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dancingbirdie · 1 year ago

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Behold my labor of love: Astarion SMUT.

This idea came to me after writing my last fic Something Imagined / Something Real. I wanted to backtrack and reimagine Astarion and Tav's first night together after the tiefling party.

If smut is not your thing, no worries! You can scroll down to the first set of asterisks (***) to avoid reading those parts. You don't miss much at all plot-wise.

This is my first time ever writing smut. Please be kind. And I hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This is a flashback fic! Part 2 is Something Imagined / Something Real. And subsequent vignettes to come!

I Want It To Be You

Rating: Mature/NSFW

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Detailed description of consensual sex, Tav's first time having sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, description of panic attack/anxiety, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

“Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”

If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for.

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TWO WEEKS AGO

THE NIGHT OF THE TIEFLING PARTY

Let’s wait until things quiet down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.

Astarion’s parting words replayed over and over again in her head as she padded quietly through the woods, away from the campsite. From the comfort and familiarity of the party. They hadn’t agreed on a meeting place, but Tav assumed his heightened senses would locate her soon enough. She was grateful for the extra moments to herself. Her stomach was knotted from nerves and anticipation for what the night might bring.

She hadn’t told him that she was a virgin. He probably deserved to know, she realized that, but she hadn’t wanted him to change his mind just because he’d be taking something no one else had before. It was her choice, her body to give, she reasoned to herself. Whether for the first time or the hundredth time, it shouldn’t matter. Right?

Her past experiences certainly influenced her reticence. Divulging that particular information about herself had resulted in people immediately halting romantic pursuits with her, or leering at her like she was some sort of top-shelf prize they were about to take home. She didn’t want to know if, or where, Astarion might land on that spectrum. Didn’t think her heart could take either reaction from him. Besides, she’d read enough of those dirty romance tomes and scrolls throughout her life (for educational purposes, of course, she justified to herself) to have a general understanding of what happens during sex. Surely she could bluff her way through this. Right?

She wanted to please him. Wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. It was no secret that Astarion had quickly become her favorite companion in this unlikely band of heroes she was traveling with. He was absolutely gorgeous, of course, but the longer she lingered around him, the less that seemed to matter. He was funny, in a devilish sort of way. Intelligent and cunning. Perceptive. And, while it was obvious that it unsettled the rest of the group, she genuinely appreciated how he prioritized his own self before bending over backwards to help someone else. Secretly, she wished she could emulate that a bit more in her own life, but years and years of people pleasing to win what scraps of affection she could was a hard habit to break.

Clearly she was no closer to doing so, as there she stood. In the middle of a forest. Preparing for a midnight tryst with a person she had just met but grown to genuinely care for. And she wasn’t even sure that he would, or wanted to, return her sentiments.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

Astarion’s voice broke the mundane quiet of the forest that had lulled her into such ruminations. She turned toward the direction she had heard him speak and marveled at the sight of him slipping gracefully between the trees, moving ever slowly toward her.

He had removed his shirt and was clad only in his leather breeches and boots. His alabaster skin practically glowed in the silvery light of the moon. He was the most beautiful person Tav thought she had ever laid eyes on, and it wasn’t only because she could now see the taut, sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He was perfectly fit in an elegant sort of way. Not like Halsin, with large bulging biceps, thick torso and sturdy legs. No, Astarion was like a leopard. Lithe, agile, regal even. And his face. Gods, the poets and painters could opine for centuries on his beautiful face without ever growing weary.

“Is that so?” Tav called out in reply, walking to close the distance between them. By her estimate, she sounded much braver than she felt. Good.

Astarion nodded, raising one hand to cup her cheek. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he finished, the pad of his thumb grazing sensually across her lower lip.

“You don’t have me yet,” she whispered teasingly, although both of them were clearly aware of how she had shivered when he touched her. How her head bowed into his touch, like a lovesick little thing.

“Don’t I?” he smirked. “You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” He stepped closer, completely absolving them both of any personal space. His free hand came to rest along the curve of her waist.

“I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” He purred, lowering his head so that his lips ghosted the shell of her ear while he spoke.

Tav was thankful for the steadiness of his hands on her. His insinuations alone were quickly rendering her a quaking mess. But she didn’t want to be a selfish lover, and so she collected herself enough to pose a question in return.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, bringing a hand to rest softly against his chest, over his heart.

She noted the way his brows drew down briefly, seeming almost confused by her question. But as quick as it came, the expression vanished, replaced by something much more confident. More assertive.

“What do any of us want?” he breathed. “Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

Gently, so very gently, he began to trail hot, open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck. Tav’s breath caught audibly in her throat, and Astarion hummed in approval at her response.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “To lose yourself in me?”

It was fast becoming difficult for her to string two thoughts together. Astarion touching her like this sent shockwaves throughout her body. That curious heat she’d only known from touching herself began to kindle low in her belly. She clenched her thighs together subconsciously, trying to sate that feeling the fire was stirring up inside her. Astarion noticed her squirming, to his immense satisfaction.

“Well?” he coaxed in between kisses across her collarbone. His prompting reminded Tav that she had yet to answer his question, so lost was she in the feeling of his cool lips against her rapidly warming skin.

“I want to be with you. Share this night with you,” she answered honestly, unable to spare enough brain capacity to consider whether or not it was a good idea to be so forthcoming.

“Such a charitable little thing,” he chuckled. “How could I deny you?”

And then his mouth captured hers. It was a searing, passionate kiss. A kiss that promised so much more pleasure to come. One that Tav had never known before, despite having partaken in her fair share of kisses over the years. But this kiss? This was the kiss of time-fated lovers. And Tav was desperate to match Astarion’s pace, desperate to feel more, more, more.

She moaned as he ran his tongue lightly against the seam of her lips, granting him entry to fully sweep in and plunder her mouth proper. Her fingers carded through his silvery blonde curls, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating in her mouth.

She finally was forced to break their kiss after a few moments, hungrily gulping in air to alleviate her starving lungs. Astarion moved to ravage her neck once more, licking and sucking the soft delicate skin there. He gripped her ass possessively as he did so, walking her backwards until he was pressing her into the nearest tree.

He lifted a knee to knock her legs apart before raising it higher to press into the juncture of her thighs. He delighted at how Tav immediately parted her legs for him, how she moaned from the pressure, how she subconsciously began grinding against him.

“Look at you, you naughty thing” he crooned in her ear. “Riding my leg for some relief?”

Primal behavior called out, a scarlet blush immediately bloomed on Tav’s neck and cheeks. It only goaded Astarion further.

“Go on then, darling. Rut against me. But I’m getting these lovely tits free first,” he whispered.

He began undoing the laces on the front of her corset. Tav watched his progress, entranced by the gracefulness of his long, slender fingers. She was nearly trembling with anticipation. Once finished, she helped him extract her from the offending garment and allowed him to lift her chemise up, over her head, so that she was fully bare from the waist up. The cool night air turned her skin to gooseflesh, her nipples hardening.

The sensation roused her lust-addled brain enough to realize just how vulnerable she was, standing there half-naked before him. She’d never been so exposed to another person before. Her fingers fluttered as she fought the sudden bout of nerves that insisted she cover her breasts from view.

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled, plainly reading the self-conscious expression on her face. “I’ve been dying to see these for days now,” he continued, cupping one full breast and flicking her nipple lightly with his thumb.

It sent a pulse thrumming directly to her core, and Tav moaned openly at the sensation. She could feel her simple linen breeches were completely drenched, was certain she was also dampening Astarion’s leg as she continued to grind against him.

Astarion chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction.

“So responsive,” he whispered before lowering his mouth to latch onto her breast. He sucked lightly, while his hand continued its assault on the other. She fisted his hair in one hand, kissing the top of his head lovingly while he worked her into a frenzy.

Tav felt like she was quickly losing any ability to maintain balance. Her body was aching, whining, for more. She wanted to be laid out on the ground, wanted him to press her into the soft earth, taking everything.

“Astarion, please,” she panted, pulling at his curls. He groaned in response, releasing her nipple from his mouth.

“Please what, pet?” he teased, kissing and licking up her sternum.

“I need… more,” she whined, bucking against his leg.

He huffed a laugh before sweeping her up in one smooth motion and lowering her to the soft grass beneath their feet.

He began to loosen the fastenings of her breeches with a practiced ease. Tav watched, breathless, as he slid the fabric down her thighs, his mouth following with indolent, open-mouthed kisses. Each touch of his lips on her heated skin left her skin tingling, her hips canting slightly into the open air.

Finally bare before him, she watched as Astarion surveyed her from where she lay beneath him. In nearly all respects, he looked primed and ready to ravage her. His nostrils flared, detecting the heady scent of her arousal. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths. For the first time, she took note of the considerable erection straining against the leathers he still wore.

After a moment, he came down to lie beside her, pulling her onto her side so that her chest was pressed flush against his. He trailed a hand down her side, over the rise and fall of her curves, until he reached her thigh. He hiked her leg onto his hip.

But something was off. Amid her clouded thoughts, Tav thought she could sense it, even if she couldn’t precisely put a finger on it. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes? Or the perfect nature of his behavior? He seemed almost too practiced, too formulaic. Like an actor who’s rehearsed their lines to the point that the words have lost their meaning. He was there with her, but somehow he wasn’t, at the same time.

“Are you all right?” Tav asked in a hushed voice, lifting a hand to cup his neck. She rubbed soothing circles with her thumb across his jawline.

“I’m more than all right, darling,” he replied with a smirk, squeezing her ass lightly.

“You seem like… you’re not wholly present,” she explained.

“It’s difficult to decide what I’d like to do to you first,” he reasoned, sidestepping her unspoken question. “I’m torn between tasting you with my tongue, or fucking you with my fingers,” he smirked.

Before she could respond, his fingers took an experimental swipe between her folds. She gasped at the feeling, her hips bucking against him. She watched, speechless, as he lifted that hand to suck the wetness from his fingers. Her wetness. In his mouth.

He groaned in approval. “Mmm. You’re pure sweetness, darling.”

All thoughts eddied from her mind. A singular, primal focus took over, and she suddenly clutched at Astarion’s neck with newfound ferocity.

He seemed to know exactly how his behavior had affected her, if his impish grin was anything to go by. He lowered his hand to swipe against her once again, his fingers stopping to circle that sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs. Tav jerked in response, but Astarion had been prepared for it. He used his other arm to brace against her back, locking her in place against him.

As she writhed against his hand, he repositioned himself to insert a finger inside her. She was deliciously warm and soaking wet. Soft, like velvet. His thumb continued to circle her clit, eliciting a long, low moan from Tav. Embarrassed, she attempted to muffle her voice by ducking her face into his chest.

He chuckled again. “That’s it, sweet one. Let me hear you,” he goaded her. Her moans pitched higher in response.

After a few moments of pistoning in and out of her, he inserted a second finger. But despite how drenched she was, he met considerable resistance, to his surprise. He stilled his fingers in response, uncertain.

It took a moment for Tav to register that Astarion had stopped moving inside her. Caught somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction, the increased sense of fullness his two fingers brought was strange but not altogether unwelcome. She exhaled, but it came out as more of a hiss than a sigh. After a moment of stillness, she raised her head to look at him.

“What is it?” she questioned..

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Astarion murmured.

Tav flushed. He’d realized, despite her best efforts to cover up that truth. Absently, she wondered what had given her away.

She said nothing at first, just studied him. He didn’t seem angry. But then again, she had quickly learned that Astarion was very skilled at masking his true feelings.

“No. I haven’t,” she admitted.

At her reply, he gently removed his fingers from inside her. He moved his hand to clutch her hip instead.

She sighed, rolling onto her back, gazing up at the stars. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Silence. It felt deafening in her ears. But then –

“I’m a bad choice, darling,” he replied, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over her hip bone. She failed to see the sad smile that graced his mouth. “A terrible choice, really. For your first time.”

“It’s my decision,” she retorted, lolling her head to the side so she could look him straight in the eyes. “I want it to be you, Astarion. But if this is going to be a… problem for you, or become some ordeal where you feel guilty or weirdly triumphant, then we can just–”

“It’s not a problem for me. It’s your decision,” he affirmed softly, interrupting the beginning of her tirade. Some unknown emotion flitted across his features. He schooled his expression before she could really identify it.

“But I have to ask,” he continued, studying her seriously. “Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

His eyes softened, obviously touched by her response. It was the first time tonight, she realized, that he had appeared vulnerable to her. He was staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time. Like he couldn’t believe that the woman between his arms was real.

Without another word, he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth at the same time he inserted his fingers again, tasting her gasp of pleasure. His thumb began circling her clit once more, and Tav was powerless to silence her moans.

“Good. So good, sweet girl,” he whispered in her ear after a few moments. “You’re so close.”

She let loose a whine, squeezing her eyes shut as she chased that ever-nearing precipice inside her. Astarion’s voice in her ear only pushed her that much closer.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he urged, and she felt her orgasm rip through her at his words. Stars collided behind her eyes as she tumbled from that cliff of pleasure, Astarion holding her and whispering soft praises as she floated back down to earth.

Eventually her eyes fluttered open to see Astarion smiling openly at her. She felt her lips stretch up to return his grin.

“That was… incredible,” she breathed.

He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m not nearly finished with you. Unless you’d like to sto–”

“No,” Tav blurted, a little too loudly, interrupting him. “No. I want more. Please. Show me.”

“Of course, darling” Astarion promised, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He gently released her and stood, beginning to remove his own clothing. Tav watched him brazenly, drinking in the sight of him.

She moaned softly as he removed his breeches, his impressive length springing free. He remained still, allowing her to take in the sight of him fully naked before her. Curious, she sat up and lifted a hand to wrap around him. She marveled at the way he felt. Like velvet-wrapped steel. She gave a tentative stroke, thrilling as he groaned in response. She stroked him again, harder, intent on learning how to give him as much pleasure as he’d already given her.

But he stayed her wrist with a gentle touch of his hand. She paused, looking up at him, confused.

“As exquisite as teaching you how to stroke me would be,” he explained in a sultry voice, “I’m much more interested in teaching you something else tonight.”

Tav nodded mutely, lying back once more. She opened her legs for him to return to her. Astarion smiled, lowering himself on top of her. He braced his forearms on either side of her head, one hand absently combing through her hair. His hips fit perfectly in the cradle of her thighs, and she moaned as she felt him gently nudge against her entrance.

“This is going to hurt at first,” he explained in a hushed whisper. She nodded, her breathing a bit uneven in anticipation of what would come next.

“But then it will stop. You’ll stretch around me. And then it will feel good,” he continued.

She nodded again, trying to remain focused on his words. But the primal part of her mind was warring against her. And it was winning. She subconsciously bucked her hips into him, marveling as she felt him slip between her folds just slightly. He hissed at the sensation, clenching his jaw.

“Greedy little thing,” he chastised teasingly. “All right, enough talking. But you will tell me if you need to stop, yes?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Good girl,” he purred.

And then slowly, gently, he sheathed himself fully inside her with a groan.

Tav gasped in response. It was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. Astarion had been right; it was painful at first. A pinching sensation. A mind-bending feeling of fullness. But then, but then, the feeling was phenomenal. She felt her walls stretch to accommodate him, felt herself clench around him, accepting him in his entirety.

Astarion’s head dropped to the crook of her neck. His whole body trembled, as if it was taking all his restraint to remain still so she could grow accustomed to him.

She canted her hips into him a bit, testing the waters. He groaned again in response, and she released a breathy chuckle.

He raised his head at the sound, peering down at her. “You little minx,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”

She thrilled at his words, crying out in ecstasy as he began to thrust in and out of her. The pace he set was addicting; the rhythm had her pushing her hips up to meet him, her legs locked around his back to pull him closer.

“You’re taking me so, so well, darling,” Astarion grunted, ratcheting up his pace. “You’re so tight. So. Perfectly. Fucking. Tight.”

His words were a fuel to her flame. She cried out his name again and again as he continued to rut into her, reveling in the feeling of him claiming her completely and totally. She was lost to the sensations, adrift in the fullness of Astarion inside her.

Finally, or perhaps all too soon, she felt his pace begin to grow more erratic. His hips lost their rhythmic pumping. His groans grew louder. Sensing his release was close, Tav clutched him tighter, digging her heels in his back to pull him closer, clenching around his length inside her.

“Yes, yes, FUCK,” he barked all at once, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he slammed himself to the hilt inside of her one final time. She could feel his release spilling inside her.

Lost for words, she simply held Astarion as he half-collapsed on top of her, one arm still braced on the ground beside her head. Listless, euphoric, and utterly at peace, Tav raised one arm to gently caress his back, listening to his erratic breaths slow. Distantly, she noted the raised, rough sensation of scars on his upper back, but she was too consumed by their mutual pleasure to give it a further thought.

Eventually, Astarion slipped out of her. He lowered himself to lie down beside her, curling one arm around her waist.

Tav closed her eyes and curled into his side, suddenly overcome with drowsiness. “Thank you, Astarion” she whispered faintly.

“For what, my darling?” he crooned, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“For making my first time so wonderful,” she replied.

She was asleep before he could think of a sufficient response.

***

The panic was a monstrous thing. Clawing at his chest, its vice-like grip squeezing his lungs until inhaling felt like breathing through a reed. He could barely think. Barely move. Barely registered the lovely woman still sleeping peacefully beside him.

The part of his brain that wasn’t frozen in fear chastised himself for behaving this way. He had taken plenty of virgins before. In fact, he had sought them out specifically. They were a much easier prey. They became attached to him so quickly, attributed so much more meaning to their first bout of lovemaking than perhaps more… seasoned individuals.

He should have been elated. She was obviously besotted with him. His plan to ensure her loyalty was moving forward without a hitch. So then why was he feeling so horrible?

He turned to observe Tav. So close to him and yet so far away. Swept into that blissful sleep that continued to elude him. He watched her chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. Watched her eyelids twitch as her mind made its way through some dream. She was so very vulnerable in this position. And so very trusting. Of him, of all people.

Astarion didn’t like many people. But he had developed a fondness for Tav, despite the short period of time they had known one another. She treated him like a person, not a monster. Not like the others in their party. She seemed to accept him for who he was, cynicism and vanity and all. He couldn’t remember ever knowing someone as kind to him as she was. She was… incredible.

And then it struck him. He was developing… something… for her. Feelings? Affection? The sentiments were so foreign to him, he didn’t even know what to call it.

But the realization caused panic to clutch him even tighter. No. He couldn’t feel this way. He wouldn’t.

This thing with Tav was purely transactional. It had to be. There was no other viable option. She had needed to feel something with someone. He had needed to secure an ally. That was all.

That is all this is, he thought, quashing the weak sentimental part of his mind.

And come morning, he resolved he would make certain that that was all this was for her as well.

***

Tav woke to the sound of birds chirping, high in the trees above her. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the forest, dappling her skin and warming her in the places that it touched. Opening her eyes, she spied Astarion, already dressed and standing a few paces in front of her.

His back was facing her, his face lifted toward the sun. She noted how he held his arms outstretched by his sides, palms facing up as though he were trying to collect all the sunlight pouring into their little grove. Despite his preternatural sense of hearing, he didn’t seem to be aware that she’d awoken, so lost was he in his enjoyment of the sun’s rays.

Tav’s heart nearly swelled to bursting as she watched him. Before all of this, he hadn’t felt the sunlight on his skin in over 200 years. Now, he was reveling in it. His joy was such an innocent, pure thing.

How many times had Tav taken the sun warming her skin for granted? Probably all of her life, she supposed. To see someone so appreciative of something so utterly mundane to her… well, it was a sobering reminder to acknowledge those little pleasures in life, especially the ones that seemed so constant to her.

She also took the time to study the strange pattern of scars on his back. She had felt some of the rough ridges last night, as she clutched him closer while he spilled himself inside her. But she hadn’t realized just how intricate and intentional the markings were. The sight of them sparked a rage inside her. Whoever the monster was who’d done this to him, they deserved to pay a price worse than death.

Someday soon, she swore she would ask him about those markings. But not today. Not right now. Not in the aftermath of spending such a wonderful night together. No, the only thing she wanted for them both today was to revel in post-coital bliss.

Not wishing to startle him, Tav intentionally laid back to stretch out her blissfully sore muscles, rustling the grass and fallen leaves around her. She threw in a halfhearted yawn for good measure. Secretly, she hoped he would return to her, take her again in this quiet forest, beneath the warmth of the sun.

“You sleep light,” Astarion chuckled, half-turning to speak to her but not meeting her gaze. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

Tav hesitated at his tone. It wasn’t cold per se, but he sounded much more guarded than he had been last night. Perhaps she was just being extra sensitive in light of what they had shared, she reasoned.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked hesitantly. She watched his back, waiting for a reply. “It felt like… you weren’t truly there…” she added, after a beat of silence.

“I was… holding back a little, it’s true,” he finally responded. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were… I didn’t want to go too far.”

“Oh, I see,” Tav replied, a bit dismayed. “I’m sorry you felt that way.”

Astarion turned and gave her a trademark smirk. “Think nothing of it, darling. Now,” he intoned, clapping his hands together. “Shall we get on? We’ve wasted enough time already.”

The words were like a lance to her heart.

“I… I didn’t consider it a waste,” she murmured, trying with some difficulty to hide her hurt.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Astarion huffed. “I just meant I’d like to break camp and get out of here before those tieflings drag us into another one of their messes.”

“Sure, of course,” Tav nodded, smiling up at him, though it came across as more of a grimace. Then she broke eye contact, bending over under the guise of collecting her discarded clothing. Really, she didn’t think she could look at him a moment longer without crying.

“I still need to dress,” she said, attempting a casual sort of air. “You go ahead without me.”

She sensed rather than saw Astarion hesitate at her suggestion.

“Are you sure? We’re a fair walk from camp. I can spare a few moments and wait.”

“Positive,” she replied with false cheer. “Go on ahead. The last thing either of us need is the party jeering at us if we’d return together.”

“Fair point,” Astarion conceded. “All right. Then… I’ll see you, back at camp.” Then he was walking away, back toward the direction of their fellow party members.

Tav waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps before she let loose a quiet sob. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had finally overwhelmed her. Maybe it was how abysmally this morning had gone. She didn’t know how she’d expected the morning after a sexual tryst to go, but she certainly hadn’t imagined what had just taken place. She hadn’t expected Astarion to slip that aloof mask he wore so well immediately back on, not when it was still just the two of them here.

Then again, she reasoned, perhaps there was a perfectly justifiable reason for his actions. They barely knew one another, after all. He didn’t owe her anything beyond general respect. They hadn’t made any promises or ties to one another. They had simply agreed on a night of pleasure. That night had passed on. She should move on as well. Right?

But she had hoped. Oh, she had hoped. That maybe last night could have been the start of something new for her. For both of them. She knew she was a dreamer at heart. But still, part of her couldn’t help but hope that some silver lining would come out of all of this mess.

In any case, she knew she needed to pull herself together before reentering the camp. She would not let anyone see her cry, especially Astarion. So she remained standing in the grove for a few moments longer, collecting herself.

She forced her mind to focus on anything, anything else. She counted the birds she saw flitting amongst the tree limbs. She watched leaves swirling in their light, airy dance toward the ground. And she said a silent prayer to whatever gods were out there and possibly listening. She prayed that everything would work out the way it was meant to be.

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pennyellee · 5 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐗 - 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐚

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

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lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N��s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction. Nor in this case, I'm a medical professional.

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fairyysoup · 1 month ago

Text

the devil i know

chapter nine: need your body when my fire's cold

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: With the full moon tomorrow, you're feeling a little more pent up than usual. Perfect time for your ex to reappear.

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking!!, 🚨reader has gone into heat🚨, oral (f receiving), piv sex, bondage with a paranormal twist, (being gagged and bound by snake tattoos that are telepathically controlled by a demon), magic, possessive behavior, past abusive relationship, attempted assault/murder, death threats, animal death mention, being held at gunpoint, immortal character(s) get shot but it's ok, gore, blood (lots of it in fact), minor character death, trauma, panic attacks, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The day before the full moon, you start to feel feverish.

And not just a normal, regular fever either. Everything feels hot and pulsing, like your body is filled with some unseen electricity that’s surging through you, lighting your nerves on fire. It’s been torturing you all day. All through your shift at the diner, all through the long, grueling hours that it has taken for you to get home. Waves of heat rushing through your body, drenching you from your head to your toes in sweat.

You wondered, at first, if Eddie was possessing you again, but it felt like your body answered that question for you– with a gush of arousal between your legs at the mere thought of him, soaking your panties. You didn’t hear his voice in your head, didn’t feel any sort of weird jerking of your limbs or touches on your skin that shouldn’t have been there. He isn’t possessing you.

You wondered if, maybe, you were somehow channeling that same strange magic again– the kind that he showed you how to use, to transform a water glass into a flower vase. That had felt so concentrated, though, in one area of your body. This is an all over ache, an all over fever. It doesn’t feel like the magic that you’ve used so far.

So… why are you feeling like this?

You considered calling out of work sick, but when you got to the diner and you looked around you, absolutely no one seemed enticing. Like your body was recoiling from anyone else, you physically shuddered at the prospect of anyone touching you but Eddie.

Which would normally be fine, except your body is going insane. Heat below the surface of your skin makes you perspire. The moon hangs overhead, bright white in the sky and looming like it sees you, and knows what you’re going to do tomorrow night.

How you’re going to give yourself over to Eddie, fully. Completely. More than you even have yet– if you can count it, it’ll be the first time you two honestly fuck, and you can’t contain yourself at the thought. Your skin flames, your heart pounds. You feel like climbing up the walls. You’re excited and you’re nervous, and just thinking about the prospect makes… whatever’s happening to your body ruin yet another pair of your underwear.

When you get home again, you run a cold bath. You tear at your clothes as you go, moving through your apartment. Dante is nowhere to be found, somewhere off in the aether doing his hellhound business again. You’re getting used to him coming and going just as often as his previous owner does.

When you sink into a cold bath, it’s like heaven on your overheated skin. You don’t know if this is technically good for you– you wonder if your body can handle this elevated temperature. Considering you can make coffee boil with your touch and telepathically transform glassware, you’re having trouble telling what’s within the realm of possibility, these days.

Inevitably, your thoughts turn to Eddie. Where he is, what he’s doing. If he’s feeling the same thing that you are, this infernal heat that’s taking over your body and making it difficult to focus on anything other than the thought of him.

Your wandering fingers dance over your wet skin and you dream that they could be his, and it’s bad enough that you’re wanting him so much you can practically taste it. But you still haven’t quite faced the realization that started nagging at you just days ago.

You love him.

This was not the plan. Ideally, you figure you would have fucked the demon on the obligatory days once a month, and otherwise you would have gone about your life, business as usual. But you guess that making a deal with a demon doesn’t exactly lend itself to business as usual. And you sure as hell didn’t expect your demon to be so… so perfect.

Perfect for you. A fucking nerd with a heart of gold, even if he does keep running around trying to maim people who hurt you. He’s adorable, he has a sense of humor. He brought you an entire garden’s worth of flowers– they’re still on your counter, miraculously still fresh nearly a week later, half of them stuffed in the vase that he helped you create before he put you back to bed. Tucked you in and kissed your forehead and then fucked off like he knew he’d made you cranky.

You think you’d do anything for him, if he asked.

If a deal with a demon is something like a marriage– and your deal includes the stipulation of sex– wouldn’t it make sense for you to fall for him? Isn’t this all just a stereotypical marriage of convenience trope wrapped up in a little supernatural bow?

Whatever the reason, rational or no, you’re falling for him. That pyroclastic flow of his that you’d sworn would burn you alive when you first met him to make the deal– it's caught you, and it’s completely decimating you. Covering you in ash and boiling your blood. You can hear it roaring in your ears.

…Actually, that’s just you boiling your bath water.

“Shit.”

You leap up, splashing water across the floor. The paint on the sides of the tub is bubbling up and peeling with the heat of the water as it rolls like a jacuzzi and threatens to spill over. You’ve been boiling it as you lay in it, thinking about you and your little demon problem.

Well, that’s the first time you’ve ever managed to do that. So much for cooling off.

You wrap yourself in a towel, and you hope that you won’t manage to set that on fire, or something. Eddie’s mark on your arm twinges, pulsing beneath your skin. You need to calm down, before you manage to burn the fucking house down.

As you pull on a thin nightshirt– something breathable, which hopefully won’t make you sweat too much in your sleep– there’s a knock at your door. You drag your hands down your face and heave a long, extended sigh. You just want to sleep. You just want to wait out the day tomorrow until you have to meet Eddie at the crossroads, and then…

And then you hope for some kind of relief to your frustration.

There’s another knock, more forceful this time. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and steel yourself to go answer the door. Whoever the fuck is bothering you at eight o’clock in the evening better have a good fucking reason.

As you cross your living room to the door, there’s a scuffling from the direction of the couch, and then Dante emerges from the darkness. At first as a shadow, and then he materializes into his full Rottweiler self, and barks. Very, very loudly.

“Dante!” you yelp, trying to shuffle toward the door as the dog jumps at you, barking and trying to bite at the bottom of your nightshirt. “Baby, I know, I’m happy to see you too, but I gotta get the d–”

The door is knocked open just as soon as you unlock it, throwing you back and onto the floor. Dante skids toward the door, snarling, growling and baring his teeth at whoever it is.

“Andy?” You look up to find your ex closing the door behind him. “I thought you were– what are you doing here?”

“Look at what you did to me, you bitch,” Andy snaps, and turns toward you.

You’re a little too distracted to do what he says, though, considering he’s pointing a gun in your face.

Adrenaline cuts through your body like a knife, making your limbs tremble. You can hear Dante barking, distantly, like from underwater. You feel nauseous, a roiling in your gut about to spring forth. Ohhh, this is a bad time to be having a panic attack. “Andy, I don’t know what you’re–”

“Look at what you did to me!” Andy’s shouting makes you tear your eyes fearfully away from the gun. You don’t want to look at his face, but you do. You do, and it makes your stomach lurch even worse– because only half of it is there anymore.

The cops who came to the scene said that Andy had sustained third degree burns, but they didn’t say where. You figured they were probably on his arms, maybe his chest and his legs, since he was reaching for the car door. You didn’t know that half his face had been taken off with it. Clearly, his time in the ICU hasn’t been enough for the wounds to heal properly; the skin is still blistered and oozing in places. His nose a burnt nub, his lips curled back from his teeth in a permanent smile that makes him resemble the phantom of the opera.

Okay. This is really bad. You’ve never tried calling for Eddie before, and you don’t know how to consciously do it– you’ve just done it on accident a few times, and he’s answered. You hope that he answers now.

Eddie. I really really need your help right now. Please.

“Shut that fucking dog up before I put a bullet in it,” Andy snarls, gesturing to Dante with the gun.

“Dante,” you whisper desperately, reaching for the angry, over-protective Rottweiler. “Down. Down, baby, it’s okay.”

Dante backs off, but only a bit.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK.

“You should be in the hospital,” you tell Andy, for lack of anything else to say. You can’t even begin to understand why he’s out, looking the way that he is. He shouldn’t be walking, shouldn’t be talking with the amount of damage he’s taken.

Andy shakes his head. It makes a disgustingly wet clicking sound, and you wonder if somehow, some way, he’s been magicked out of there by your paranormal circumstances. Wouldn’t it just be the comeuppance you deserve? You wonder if tonight is the full moon, and you miscalculated the timing of the ritual. Have you unintentionally sealed your fate? Not held up your end of the bargain?

“I left,” Andy tells you, and his voice is grating and rough with the damage his throat has taken. “As soon as I woke up– couldn’t let you get away with it. Fuckin’ witch.”

You knew Andy to be a hypocrite, sure. He roped you in by claiming to hate the bigots in town who harassed you. He would talk shit about church and about religion, and he could honestly give a fuck about scripture. You’re not sure that he’s ever actually picked up a bible. But then, he could also be known to break up dinners and conversations with the same vapid evangelical rhetoric. “Prepare to meet Jesus your Maker, my friend, because the end of the world is coming in three weeks! Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife… or girlfriend, or whatever.”

It took a while for these moments to really pile up– a few too many dinners and gatherings embarrassingly ruined until it was too much to laugh off as a joke– and ultimately it was what spurred you to finally try to “end” the relationship. This was all, usually, a way of peacocking and showing off his supposed “piety” to the other people in town. Always on a high-horse about something. Usually it stemmed from his intolerance of other people’s idiosyncrasies. But you wouldn’t have expected him to fall into the hunt-the-witch category.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” you retort, starting to scoot backwards on your hands, slithering slowly away from the gun in your face. Eddie’s mark on your wrist throbs, your hands heating up and beginning to scorch the floorboards you crawl across.

“I know that you did.” He shakes the gun, as though it’s going to get his point across further. “I know– I know you fucking did something. Black magic or some– some demonic shit! I felt it! Look at my fucking arm!”

Andy brandishes the arm that you grabbed, when he tried to cut into Eddie’s mark on your wrist. The welt is still angry and red, the clear imprint of your hand raised on his skin.

“You did this to me,” Andy repeats, looking more and more crazed. His blue eyes are wide and flashing angrily as he gestures with his gun. “You fucking cursed me, you marked me with your– your Devil’s mark! I’m gonna make you take it back, put things right. Take it back or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Dante leaps forward again at the jerk of Andy’s gun, putting himself between you and the weapon.

You shake your head, trying to figure out how to calm Andy down, or disarm him. You’re a witch, right? You’re a witch, and you have some kind of crazy power in you– you can transform objects with your mind. It can’t be so hard to just… turn the gun into a rubber chicken. Right?

Rubber chicken, rubber chicken. You can’t focus well enough. Dante is still barking, baring his teeth and growling at Andy. “I don’t know why your car exploded–”

“SHUT THAT FUCKING DOG UP!” Andy roars, and before you can even tell Dante not to, the hellhound’s eyes glow red and he springs for Andy’s legs.

You scream as the gun goes off, your heart plummeting into your stomach. A sob escapes you, tears pricking at your eyes and flowing over onto your cheeks. For a second, you fear that Andy has killed yet another dog in front of you, that you’ll have to bury Dante beside Lacey in the woods. In your panic, you somehow forget that Dante isn’t from your world, and a spirit can’t be killed twice.

You leap forward to grab at Dante, to hold him if he’s been hurt– but Dante isn’t even fazed. The bullet passes through the dog’s body, bounces off the floor and ricochets off into the living room somewhere. He sinks his teeth into Andy’s thigh, tearing into the flesh without remorse. He bears down, snarling, blood spurting from the wound and beginning to drip onto the floor.

Andy howls, and kicks his leg until he’s able to fling Dante off. Dante skids across the floor, and comes to a stop just in front of a pair of black boots, materializing out of the darkness.

A hand drops down, fingers clad with chunky silver rings, and pets the growling hellhound’s blood covered head.

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs, just as his form solidifies from the shadows. He lifts his hand and sucks the blood from his finger, gazing up through his bangs at Andy.

“Eddie.” Just one look at him, and warmth floods your system. You go to stand and throw yourself at him, but Andy points his gun at you again. He isn’t looking very good– cringing and clutching at his wounded leg, the hand with the gun shaking as he holds it towards you.

“This is your little fucking boyfriend?” He tries to sound intimidating, but his voice wobbles as Eddie lifts himself to his full height, fixing him with an unblinking stare.

Little. Right.

“Sure am.” Eddie tilts his head. “And you’re a piece of shit who’s had too many second chances.”

You watch as Eddie steps forward, and the gun swivels toward him. Andy shouts, “DON’T MOVE! I’ll shoot you, motherfucker!”

“Shoot me while you’re talking, it’ll save time.” Eddie pauses, and bends down to take your burning hand. He gingerly wraps his arm around you and lifts you up easily, like you weigh nothing.

You stand on shaky legs, squeezing his hand as Eddie presses his lips to your feverish forehead. Relief spreads from his kiss like the antidote to a poison, calming your panicked mind and urging your tense muscles to relax. Sniffling, your voice is sticky with tears when you whisper, “I called you.”

“I know,” Eddie says apologetically, wiping your tears away with his clean hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take so lo–”

“Aww aren’t you two just so fucking cute,” Andy sneers, interrupting him. “Guess I’ll just have to kill both of you. I bet you’re just as into that devil shit as she is. Couple of fucking freaks, the both of you.”

Eddie scowls, turning his head to glare at Andy. He squeezes your hand, guiding you to hold onto the counter before he lets you go. “You’re so right. We’re perfect for each other. He doesn’t even know how right he is, does he?”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out– you’re just sort of staring, dumbfounded, as Eddie turns to advance towards Andy.

The gun fires three times, and Eddie stops in place. He puffs out his cheeks and groans, turning toward you with his hands on his hips. Wide-eyed, Eddie looks at you with a perturbed expression. “He shot me.”

Three bullet holes litter his chest, ripped into the fabric of his Metallica t-shirt. There’s no blood that you can see, but the bullets force their way out of his skin, dropping to the ground with a quiet plink, plink, plink.

You blink, and you set your jaw. Beyond the fear, and the tears, your mind burns with malice. “He did.”

“What the fuck?” Andy, looking afraid all of a sudden, like he only just realized that he’s in over his head, starts backing away. “What– what the hell is happening–”

“What, what, what?” Eddie hisses mockingly, his black eyes flashing with amber sparks. He bites his lip as he gazes at you. “I should show him, right?”

Show him…? You don’t even care what Eddie’s suggesting, really. You’re just beyond mad and vibrating with it– nerves and anger and searing infernal heat that’s starting to sizzle the very sweat on your skin, the longer you look at your demon.

You nod at Eddie. “Do it, baby.”

Eddie grins. His eyes catch fire as he turns back to Andy, and grabs him by his throat, lifting him into the air with one bloody hand. “Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that, buddy. Now you’ve made her mad. And I do whatever she wants.”

You watch as his shirt and jacket melt away, baring his chest and a pair of broad, pale shoulders that are covered in the faded scar tissue and tattoos, creeping up onto his neck. The tattoos swirl and move on his skin, like they’re alive– snakes curling and slithering up each arm, bat wings wiggle like they want to pop out of the skin and take flight. Skulls scream and laugh, spiders crawl. There are so many it’s like a second skin, almost as if he carries the entirety of Hell on his body.

His hands grow long claws, his head a pair of horns. And then, just like you thought they would, the wings unfurl. Enormous, they extend from his back, inky black and pointed. Taking up what little space there is in your entryway.

Your breath stutters in your chest, realizing that this is what Eddie’s true form is. The one that he said you wouldn’t like, if you saw it.

He was very very wrong about that.

Andy kicks, his blistered skin oozing at the pressure of Eddie’s hand squeezing him, and he howls at the sudden contact. Dropping the gun so that he can grab at Eddie’s arm, he gurgles, “What the hell are you?”

Eddie’s eyes burn as red as the blood on his hands when he bares his fangs. “The Devil.”

Oh. His voice. It has that same deep cadence, but it sounds smoky, almost rumbling directly from his throat rather than out of his mouth. It sends another wave of heat through your body, the same kind that boiled your bathwater and burned the shape of your hands into your floorboards.

There’s a swelling in your head and in your chest that’s starting to creep down into your stomach. A vibrating in your bones that you feel will split you apart. You groan quietly, clutching your middle.

Eddie unhinges his jaw. All the way, his mouth practically splits his face in half to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth that shouldn’t realistically fit there. His long, forked tongue extends to lick Andy’s burned flesh, roaring at him as Andy shrieks. Eddie pulls Andy close, as though he means to swallow him whole.

But a wet crackling noise rips through the room, and then Andy explodes.

He bursts like a water balloon, splattering blood and bits of flesh all over the walls, all over Eddie, all over you. You stand tensely, open mouthed and with your shoulders pulled to your ears as it rains down from the ceiling, splashing onto your floor. In the silence afterwards, you hear Dante stop growling and start gnawing on a piece of Andy’s flesh that dropped to the floor beside him.

Eddie’s jaw closes and melts back into his normal face, his wings closing and retreating into a tattoo on his back. He blinks, stunned, and then turns his head and looks at you in shock. He raises his eyebrows, his face completely, comically red to match the color of the volcanic flames in his eyes. A piece of torn flesh hangs in his hair.

And that sick feeling you’d been having is suddenly fucking gone.

“Did–” You stop, smacking your lips as metallic blood oozes into your mouth. Your hands are clenched, held up by your face like you’re trying to shield yourself from it. Not that it’s helping. “Did I do that?”

Eddie nods slowly, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. He starts to laugh.

You shake your head, clapping your bloody hands over your mouth. It makes a wet slapping noise. “No– Eddie, don’t fuck with me right now–”

“Sweetheart… You blew him to smithereens!” Eddie cackles, rushing forward to wrap his arms around you. You squeal as he lifts you, jumping up and down with you like you just won first prize. “That was so fucking metal! Holy shit!”

You grab onto him with shaking hands, pressing your face into his neck. His bare skin is warm and slick, his scars bumpy against your cheek. “I thought I was just having a panic attack…”

Your demon, your self-proclaimed boyfriend, giggles like a child on Christmas and twirls you around. “That’s what he gets! That’s what anyone fucking gets for messing with my baby…”

“I was just so angry,” you tell him shakily, clutching to him like a lifeline. “He fucking shot you and he shot Dante and I– I just wanted him gone.”

“Well, he’s gone now.” Eddie snickers, pressing his blood soaked forehead against yours. “He’s gone now, you fucked him up so bad. Attagirl.”

You hold Eddie’s face and kiss him earnestly, fiercely, with everything you have in you. He grunts, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you flush against him, kicking up a squelching wet noise that would throw you off if you were thinking clearly. That same heat that’s been bothering you all day blasts forth, setting you aflame. A beast howls in your chest, snarling and vying for his attention.

“I just wanted to protect you, Eddie,” you tell him between frantic kisses. “You’re mine. No one touches what’s mine.”

He takes a slow breath and releases it with a warm purr deep in his chest. Your hand strokes his cheek and he nuzzles into it, his glowing eyes fluttering shut, and you feel an inordinate amount of pride welling up inside you.

You’re holding a demon in your hands– a real, actual demon– and he’s purring like a kitten over it. He has claws that could kill you with a single swipe, fangs that could tear flesh from bone, power beyond believability, and he’s yours.

Your kisses turn heated and deep. You scratch your nails down his chest toward his belt, pressing yourself further against him. Eddie chuckles against your lips.

“You know, you have a habit of trying to fuck me whenever Andy gets blown up,” Eddie points out, pulling back just slightly with a lopsided grin. “Should do it more often.”

“God, I’ve been so horny for you all day,” you hiccup, already frustrated as your fingers slip across the metal, fumbling and awkward as you try to undo it quickly. “I don’t know what it is, I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t have you right now.”

“You want me like this?” Eddie asks. Even though his voice is deep and sultry, there’s a touch of insecurity in it. “I know I’m not much to look at, sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “You’re gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous, Eddie, you don’t even know.” Your voice is coming out breathy, near panting as you lay kisses to his lips and cheeks, tasting Andy’s blood in your mouth.

The heat of your own body matches Eddie’s to the point that his skin– which always feels too hot, almost to the point of burning– feels normal to you. It makes your mind reel, and you don’t have to steel yourself before pressing your body against him, grasping him in your hands. His flesh is damp and sticky, and his hair still drips with blood; none of it makes a difference to you.

He yanks you against him, his claws tearing into the threadbare fabric of your nightshirt. He nearly snickers at it. It’s barely covering you as it is, all your curves and edges on display as the wet cotton clings to your body. With one sharp tug, the shirt rips and falls away from your chest.

You moan when his tongue gently glides along your shoulder and up the side of your throat, collecting the blood on your skin. Your cunt throbs with desire and your own blood boils with a need you haven’t felt before.

“So fucking cute,” Eddie coos in your ear, somewhere between chastising and affectionate. “Just can’t wait for it, can you? Gotta get all impatient with me the night before the full moon?”

“Yes, Eddie.” Your voice sounds pathetic. Whining, practically crying for it when you’ve got him so close, and his tongue on your bare skin is enough to give you a head rush. You think the touch of it ought to melt you to your core.

Well. Something’s melting in your core, anyway. And Eddie’s all too aware of it; he slides two thick fingers between your legs, urging your thighs apart just barely so that he can stroke you where you want it. He hisses through his teeth, his fingers coming back dripping with arousal and blood that isn’t even yours.

“I should make you wait,” he murmurs as he stares down into your eyes.

You can already feel yourself shaking your head, your hands grabbing for him desperately. It’s ridiculous– just the thought of him leaving you like this has you near tears. “No, please–”

“I said I should,” he tells you as he licks his fingers in front of you; a forked tongue flickering over the digits before disappearing again. “Not that I will.”

You heave a relieved sigh, a noise of contentment as he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw.

“You’re gonna wish that I did, though.”

“Eddie, what– HOH FUCK!”

You screech as Eddie manhandles you down onto the floor. Puddles of blood squelch beneath your body as you come in contact with the wood, flopping onto your back as he kneels and crawls over you like some kind of predator.

You hum. “You know, we tend to fuck in my kitchen a lot–”

Eddie shushes you. A tattoo of a snake slithering along his forearm leaps out of his skin, forming into a 3D image. Before you can even comprehend it, the snake circles your head and slithers its way into your mouth.

You make a noise of surprise. The snake doesn’t delve too far, just enough to gag you. It tastes like blood and Eddie’s skin. Discreetly smoky and laced with salt.

“Whose fault is that?” Eddie asks, dipping his head to lick a long trail up the center of your stomach, the two appendages of his forked tongue tickling your skin and making you squirm. “Be a good girl and lay still for me.”

You grunt, scowling down at him. Eddie snickers– even with all his skeletons out of the closet and his magic surrounding you, you still behave like such a little brat. He moves slowly, dragging his nose up your torso, and letting his breath billow across your oversensitive skin. His arms cage you in, his knee slotting between your legs until the damp fabric of his jeans just barely brushes the lips of your pussy.

You whimper, bucking your hips instinctively towards that contact. He jerks it away just as quickly; the snake in your mouth, made of his own flesh, inches forward until you just barely gag on the intrusion.

“Sweet little thing,” Eddie purrs as he stalks up your body, his tongue flicking out to lick the blood from your breasts. He groans in the back of his throat, almost as if he’s savoring the taste of it. The fact that it’s also driving you insane, the slippery and hot caress against an erogenous zone, is just a happy byproduct. “You forget that I have all the time in the universe. I can do this until the end of time, if I want.”

You’re dizzy with arousal, oversensitized from every point of contact he’s giving you. You want to tell him that you’d fucking love it if he did keep you here forever, but all you’re able to do is moan around the writhing extension of him in your mouth.

He takes his fucking time licking the blood from your skin, his inordinately long tongue dancing between your breasts and over your stomach, until you swear that he’s going to try to clean you entirely. But he stops just over your pelvis, and his tongue just barely flutters over your clit.

You scream. Your hips jump, back arching at the sudden touch, while your toes are curling and all your muscles are drawn up tight and aching.

“I know, baby,” Eddie murmurs softly. He tuts, his mouth dragging so softly over the skin of your pelvis that it makes your hips jump, and you bite down on the snake in your mouth just as he bites down on the plush of your thigh.

To offset his gentle voice, another snake leaps from his arm and latches around your waist, pinning you to the floor. You whine brokenly, just a sob around the one in your mouth, as you feel two more slithering along your skin and winding around your legs to pull them open.

“You’re intoxicating,” Eddie sighs, just watching as you lay there, pinned down with the extensions of his body that he controls as easily as his own hands. Your hands still scratch along the floor, lifting to grab onto something of his.

Eddie gives you his own hands; he laces his fingers with yours, sticky blood gluing them together.

You squeeze his hands when his tongue glides through the lips of your cunt, sweeping over the soft, hypersensitive flesh. Something about him finally touching you after you’ve been starving for it all day, and the exposing position you’re in, splayed open and unable to move, makes it easy to give up control.

The sounds coming from your throat are sharp and quick, mingling with the noises of Eddie below, of the snakes hissing along your skin. He clamps his lips around your clit and sucks, as the tendrils of smoke and metaphysical matter that make up the snakes on your skin morph and change into hands– many many hands that caress you and grab you everywhere. Your breasts, your arms, your legs. A palm on your chin, forcing your head back so you can’t look, only feel.

With a moan, you rock your hips against Eddie’s face as best you can, given the circumstances. There’s so much happening, you barely even notice when your orgasm hits, and by that time you’re completely unable to stop it. You cry out around two rough fingers, shoved deep into your mouth to replace the snake that had been gagging you, as you squeeze at the two hands pinning your own against the floor.

When the hand in your mouth disappears, you’re panting. Gasping for breath, punctuated with little moans that don’t stop, because Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps lapping up the arousal that drips from your swollen pussy, letting his tongue prod into your entrance like he means to fuck you with it again– knowing how well that went over last time, you don’t doubt that he would try, just to extend the torture.

Just to remind you that he could do this forever.

But he pulls away and sits up, and finally looks down at you, shaking on the floor. A smirk adorns his bloody, glistening face. “You still want more, princess?”

You nod with all the strength you have, reaching for him.

You should have known that, after watching him morph into half a dozen different shapes and sizes, he wouldn’t have to undress himself. It still doesn’t make it any less surprising to you when his pants just fucking melt out of existence, like it’s all just made of smoke.

“Couldn’t have done that when I was fucking with that goddamn belt buckle?” you grumble, finally finding your voice.

His eyebrows jump, a gorgeous grin spreading across his face. So much like the first one he ever gave you, there at the crossroads– brilliant, sharp teeth and dimples and sparkling eyes. Something that you’d kill to see every day for the rest of your life and beyond it.

“You’re… you’re impossible,” he giggles, crawling up your body to plant a wet kiss on your lips, tasting of metallic blood and salt and sweet smoke. Everything that you know and love about him is wrapped into one kiss.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, deepening the kiss until your teeth clash and you suck desperately on his tongue. He hums, dropping his hips to yours. The slick glide of his cock through your folds is so reminiscent of the dream he’d superimposed himself into, but this time it’s real, and it’s so much better. Hotter and wetter than you’d expected, kicking up an enormously loud, slick sound, echoing the slippery blood you roll around in. Your mouth drops open in a gasp, clinging to him as he grinds against you.

“This what you want?” Eddie’s voice wavers, a soft groan in his throat slipping out at the end. He huffs, dropping his forehead to rest against yours. “Fuck, tell me you want it, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.”

He sounds just as broken as you. Maybe just holding on by a thread, but it’s just so thin. You can’t help the mess that it makes of you, your pussy drenching him the more he rocks against you. The sound of his voice crackling, the low and smoky demonic tone of it giving way to weakness at the feeling of your body against him, is so profoundly erotic.

You try to answer him. You do. But between the slow grind of his cock against your clit and his broad hand wrapping around your throat, all you manage to do is allow yourself to moan into his face.

Eddie tightens his hold on your throat just a touch. He spits, and a drop of his saliva hits your waiting tongue. He growls, “Tell me.”

You sob, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try desperately to rock against him. “Pleasepleaseplease– Eddie, I want it. W-want you so bad all the time, oh my god–”

“No god here, baby,” Eddie tells you heatedly, the smoldering lava pools of his eyes boring into yours. “Just me.”

He splits you open slowly, like after all of this terror and bloodshed, he’s afraid you might break. His cock slides thick through your walls, stretching you until you swear you can’t take any more and melting you from the inside out.

It’s blinding, searing bliss and agony all at once. He glides in so smoothly, because you’re practically fucking drowning him with your want.

He draws out even slower, letting you feel every ridge and vein as it moves through you, making your toes curl, your chest burn. Your clit throbs hard like it’s feeling neglected, but you can’t muster the ability to do anything about it.

You’re a whimpering mess. Watery-eyed and half insane with how much lust is flowing through you. You aren’t even aware that you’re babbling and whining until Eddie tucks his thumb between your lips.

“Shhh.” He guides your head back and forth, shaking it from side to side gently as you stare tearfully up at him. “No whining.”

You pretty much do the exact opposite. You want him to go faster. You want him to go deeper. You want him, you want him.

Eddie thrusts the rest of the way in, like he read your mind. You’re almost sure that he did, or is. He must be. It’s the only explanation for how he’s able to give you everything you want, exactly when you want it. You think you want his hands in your mouth, he gives them to you. You want him to fuck you harder, he does.

The force of your cry makes it ring sharply around the room, magnified by the wetness on the walls and floor. Your back slips through puddles of blood on the hardwood. It’s frankly disgusting, and yet…

“Ohhh you’re such a fucking freak for liking this, baby,” Eddie chides, confirming that yes, he can hear your thoughts. He sees every one of them, like he’s inside your own head, and it makes you burn for him even worse. He grins down at you as he jolts you along the floor with another thrust. “I love it. Y’so fucking perfect for me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into hot skin and pulling him down until his chest is flush with yours. “Whose– whose fault is tha– huhh!”

His hips rock backwards and roll into yours so fluidly that it astounds you with its grace. There’s always going to be two sides to him– smooth and rough. Sharp and soft. Juxtaposed and yet complementary.

“You feel so good,” you whimper softly, your voice coming out small and feeble.

“And you feel like heaven,” he whispers hoarsely, his nose nudging against yours. “Closest I’ll ever be to it.”

You arch your head back, exposing your neck to him as you cry out toward the ceiling. There’s nothing in your head except him– he’s managed to take the rest of your world and shrink it down until he takes up the brunt of it.

Eddie chuckles, like he knows. He knows what he’s doing, knows that each stroke of his cock is just stoking the fire that burns under your skin. His cock dragging slow and purposefully through your cunt, hitting that spot deep inside that makes you scream with pleasure. His tongue on your exposed neck, his claws digging into your thighs hard enough to draw blood.

Not that you need any more of it.

“That’s right,” Eddie croons as you moan loudly, dragging his mouth along the curve of your throat, lingering over your shoulder. “Let me hear you, little witch.”

Your body tenses and you tighten down around him, letting out a long amalgamation of noises that you’d been holding back. You’re starting to forget where you end and he begins, like the longer this goes on the more you start to fade into him like a shadow.

Eddie tucks his face into your shoulder and whispers something you don’t quite catch. You’re dizzy and your pussy pulses angrily in warning. Your mounting orgasm feels devastating already, like you’re on the brink of being torn apart.

“Mmm, getting close, isn’t it?” Eddie muses, and he sounds far away, like he’s talking to you from underwater. His voice is soft and sinful, exactly what you think it should be. “I can feel it, baby. Dirty little girl just loves getting fucked by a demon, doesn’t she?”

“Eddie, please–” you cut yourself off with a gasp when his thumb touches your clit, and you convulse once like you’re about to have a fit.

There’s a snicker in his voice, but you don’t miss the soft staccato breaths that he takes when you tighten around him again. “What, y-you wanna hear how– how wet you are? Fuckin’ drenching me, baby, it’s so fucking good–”

You sob, grabbing at him and smacking at his shoulders like that’ll get your point across.

He chuckles again, and his voice is absolutely wretched when he rasps, “If only Andy could see you now, huh?”

His words knock you directly into your orgasm, which was… much closer than you both realized, apparently. You clench down around his cock and your hips jump up, rocking desperately against him like he isn’t giving it to you exactly how you want it, already.

Eddie’s breath catches, going silent for a second before he groans loudly into the crook of your neck. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl for me, holy shit–”

The break in his voice simply kills you, dead. You cum around him hard, while his thumb continues to circle your clit in slow, gentle circles. So much gentler than you imagined he would be. Soft to offset the sharpness of his claws.

Or the sharpness of his teeth, rather, because he gives you one ragged moan into your overheated skin before he’s sinking his fangs into it. The sting is only as intense as the second wave of your orgasm, which sends sparks and shockwaves through you so hard that you swear you actually are burning alive beneath him.

Eddie cums for a long time. He keeps moving through it, slowly pumping into you and drinking your blood like it’s a means to sedate him. By the time he’s finished you’re so spent, it’s like the very life has been drained from you. Your limbs and eyes are heavy, your hands on his body are weak.

In the silence, you hear a crackling. A wave of heat, a cloud of smoke that engulfs you both– like the hellfire that he embodies no longer just belongs to him, but the both of you.

Eddie’s fangs retract from your skin, his tongue leaves you. He says your name softly– a quiet cooing, sing-songy and sweet. You hum, and your head lolls tiredly towards his palm against your cheek.

“Sweetheart,” he says, a little more urgently now. “You gotta get up.”

“Mmmm no. Let’s stay here.”

Eddie huffs, and then deadpans, “Your apartment is on fire.”

Your eyes shoot open. First you meet his eyes– crackling flames dance in them, but not the way that you’re so familiar with. They reflect on the surface of his eyes, rather than coming from within. Half his face is lit in an orange glow, flickering and dancing, making the shadows dance across them more than normal.

Then you feel the heat. It’s more than him, more than you. And then the smoke alarm in your bedroom starts shrieking.

The room is engulfed in flames. The flowers preserved in the vase on your counter wither in the heat and crumple like paper. The walls, the furniture, the floors catch on like you live in a tinderbox. Fire surrounds you so closely that it should burn you.

It should. It doesn’t. You feel the heat, but it doesn’t hurt. It tickles, it warms you like a soft blanket.

“How the hell did that happen?” you splutter, cringing and grabbing at Eddie as you hear a cupboard lose its structural integrity and collapse, along with all the dishes inside of it.

Eddie giggles, his cheshire cat grin splitting his face wide. Dimples on show, hair reflecting a little bit of gold from the fire, he says, “We’re just a lot more powerful than you think.”

You gaze around at your burning apartment. All the mediocre remnants of your life peel from the walls and settle as char on the floor. Dante is once again long gone; you didn’t figure he would stick around.

Turning your head back to Eddie, you blink slowly, feeling lulled by the warmth surrounding you and the weight of his body on yours. You almost don’t even care about the hardness of the floor and how it’ll be murder on your spine in the morning. Eddie peers down at you with an affectionate smile, his thumb stroking your cheekbone lovingly.

“Oh fuck,” you say after a moment. “I’m not gonna get that fucking security deposit back, am I?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #tdik!fic #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #demon!eddie #demon!eddie munson #roses*

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rosesanddecay · 1 year ago

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Oscar Isaac Characters Finding You Dead

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Anselm Vogelweide, Llewyn Davis, Abel Morales x gn!reader

Sorry if anyone is ooc!

CW: death, murder, suicide, blood/gore, break-in, various wounds, torture, etc. + pet names, untranslated Spanish, so on.

Notice! Not all of these scenarios are romantically founded, the reader is just someone who knew the character/was close with them.

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best.

Not proof read or heavily edited

Miguel O’Hara - Villain Attack

There was never a doubt in Miguel’s mind, he knew that one day he’d have to save you. But not like this…

A Green Goblin anomaly had appeared and started bombing Nueva York.

You’d think with all the Spider People so close by, there’d be no casualties. But being so focused on protecting other universes, he almost neglected his own.

The moment Miguel was aware of the anomaly, he and many other Spiders rushed in to help protect the city.

The damage was already extreme, with two buildings nearly demolished.

Spiders spread across the scene, saving and moving the bystanders as Miguel focused on the alternate Goblin.

After capturing the terrorizer, Miguel started barking orders to everyone, wanting everything cleared up asap.

He was heading back to base as the spiders cleared the rubble.

“Oh god- MIGUEL!” One of the Spiders cried out as they tried to lift a large blanket of concrete up. The urgency in their voice quickly set Miguel off.

Miguel rushed over, his heart dropping seeing your dust covered body.

How long had you been under there? Why didn’t anyone sense you sooner? Miguel’s mind raced with panic.

With his sheer strength, he threw the debris away from your body and checked your vitals, his eyes focused on your face the entire time.

Open your eyes… please… mi amor…

When didn’t feel a heartbeat, he went to start cpr, but realized your ribs were broken. The broken bones had stabbed your vital organs, he couldn’t save you, it would’ve only caused more damage.

Miguel didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw his tears hit your face, muddling the dust covering your skin.

It wasn’t often he cried, hell, it took a good few minutes for him to start crying over Gabriella’s death. But after another loss, he couldn’t hold in the pain he was already barely containing.

His arms cradled your broken body with the most care possible. It didn’t matter that you were gone, you were his, the person he swore to protect.

I failed again…

Sobs ruptured through the bombing site. The boss who everyone saw as intimidating and cold, was now hunched over, sobbing over your limp body.

I failed.

I failed…

Moon Knight System - Steven / Marc / Jake - Break-in and Murder

Steven, once again, had a late night of work at the gift shop. He was exhausted when he came home, but was more than happy to be back home after stocking shelves for hours.

He was almost tempted to let Marc or Jake front instead, but Steven wanted to see you before Jake took off to do Konshu’s bidding later in the night.

“Love, I'm back!” He says, keeping up his cheerfulness. It had been a long day, he just wants to see you.

Looking around the house, Steven felt confused. You normally rushed to meet him, to welcome him back.

Where were you?

Walking into the bedroom, Steven saw your form under the blankets.

“Love? Are you not feeling well?” He asked quietly, worried he might wake you.

You looked at peace, your hair tousled as it lays on the pillow. Your skin was a bit pale, but Steven smiled softly, assuming you were just tired, he knew he sure was.

His hand fell on your covered stomach as he sat beside you. But a warmth quickly spread over where he had applied pressure to the blanket.

Looking over, Steven nearly had a heart attack. His hand was tacky from blood that now soaked the thick comforter that’s covering you.

With fear rushing through his veins, he ripped off the covers to reveal the stab wounds littered across your torso.

A scream ripped through his chest as he quickly tried to see if you were still alive. His heart dropped when he felt your cold skin and lack of a heart beat.

Despite Jake and Marc trying to desperately front, Steven wouldn’t let them or listen to their pleads.

Instead, he grabbed your body and sobbed. His hand clasped yours, wishing yours would squeeze his, that you’d wake up and kiss his worries away.

No, no, no— what happened— love… oh god…

It took a good while for Steven to let one of the others front, but Marc took over when he got the chance.

Both had been confined to the mirrors in the bedroom, wishing they could hold you like Steven had. Instead, for over an hour, they were stuck in the mirrors, cursed to grieve from a distance.

Steven faded back into the subconscious, too drained to watch Marc from the mirror.

Jake, on the other hand, took a step back into the subconscious because he had his own plans.

Marc didn’t sob as much as Steven did, but his pain was just as bad.

He had lost so much in life, he was almost confused on how to express his grief for you.

His fingers run along your face, tracing every detail he loves so much. Marc wished you would open your eyes, but your body was long since cold.

Marc wished he complimented you more. Sure, he praised you often, but did you know how much he loved you?

His heart ached with guilt. Marc wanted to make you blush once more from his compliments and soft kisses.

He didn’t know who did this. But he would. They’d find out who did this.

They all would get justice for you.

By Konshu’s word, he swore they would.

It was Marc who called the police and watched as you were dragged away to the hospital morgue.

It was Marc who watched the security footage that showed your killer breaking into the apartment and leaving an hour later.

It was Marc who found out the explicit details that came with your murder.

Marc was the one who told Steven and Jake the details.

This shouldn’t have ever happened… but now we know. What do we do next?

Jake was the protector, or so he’s supposed to be.

Standing over your body in the freezing morgue, Jake stared at your expressionless face.

He could remember the last time you two had a date night. The night was warm as he drove the two of you around town. He could remember the beautifully warm smile that broke across your face as the date came to a close.

Jake would do anything to see that smile again.

The others had already fronted to say their final goodbyes, Jake wanted to be the last one. He wanted to talk to you one last time.

“We found out who did this, amor.” He whispered, trying to contain his wavering voice.

“They won’t get away with this…” His lips brushed your forehead.

”I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” His tears finally fell down as he reluctantly pulled away.

As he left the hospital, Jake dawned the suit and slipped into the night, ready to enact revenge for you.

Your murderer will regret ever laying a finger on you…

Basil Stitt - Suicide

Basil hadn’t seen you in a while. Yes, part of it was because he had locked himself in his apartment, but he also just hadn’t seen you pass by his door.

He always had his eye to the peephole when you should be leaving or getting home from work.

Is that weird? Of course, but it made him feel less alone. He wanted to talk to you, but his scars contained him to his room.

Where were you? He wondered after spending an entire day looking out into the hallway.

Basil’s heart dropped when he saw movers taking garbage bags out of your apartment.

What are they doing to your things?

Despite his fear, Basil dawned his paper bag and poked his head out.

“What are you guys doing?” Basil questioned nervously.

“There was a suicide. The family wanted us to collect the person’s belongings.” The confused and hesitant workers answered.

Basil slammed his door and collapsed to the ground instantly. The paper bag tumbling to the floor as he clutched and pulled his hair.

His body trembled with grief and hatred as tears pooled on the floor.

He never was good at reacting to bad information, but this was worse.

Why did you leave him too? What did he do wrong?

First it was his face, then his job, then his family and girlfriend, but now you too?

His tears turned to screams and Basil went on a destructive rampage in his apartment, the agony overwhelming him.

He blamed himself for your death, despite barely knowing anything about it.

Maybe if he hadn’t gone into hiding, you would’ve lived. Maybe you two could’ve been lonely together.

But he was also angry.

How could you leave him after everything that happened to him? When he needed you the most?

You didn’t know though. How could you? Your neighbor, the only person you saw everyday, had disappeared for weeks without a word.

Basil knew that, but nothing could stop the emotions flooding and pouring out of him.

Why did you leave me? Why? Why?! Why?!?

Blue Jones - Murdered by a Client

Working for Blue always had its risks, and everyone knew that, including him.

But Blue didn’t expect this.

You had been bought out for the night by a rich newcomer. Nothing bad was supposed to happen.

Blue gave them permission to use you as you saw fit. As long as the merchandise didn’t get damaged, anything went.

Blue stood over your strangled body, his face neutral and flat.

Your glossed over eyes stared back at him, lips hung open loosely.

He didn’t expect his toy to be destroyed, let alone strangled to death.

Your costume was still on, but your makeup was out of place. Blue’s doll was a beautiful, broken mess.

Blue exhaled a puff of smoke as he turned to the killer, the man a sobbing mess.

“I didn’t mean to- they wouldn’t listen to me- please let me go, I’ll compensate you-“ He tried to ramble out, shutting up when the barrel of Blue’s gun pressed against his forehead.

The shot rang through the entire building. The girls and clients quickly rushed out of the other rooms to see what happened.

Screams and tears broke out from the girls as Blue pushed past everyone going to his office.

But it was once he was alone that Blue had the chance to process what happened.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw your dead ones. It hurt seeing something he owned in such a state.

Only one tear falls down his cheek as he reviews the footage of what happened. He always kept cameras in the rooms, it was a security measure, but he didn’t think he’d actually ever watch the footage for something like this.

Blue already knew the man was lying about why he killed you, but it hurt to watch you get choked and beg to be let go of.

The man was just angry, he only wanted to kill. You had done nothing wrong. Which made Blue mad.

He leaned back in his seat as the hot, silent tears fell down his cheeks, hidden by the cigar smoke flooding the front of his face.

Blue decided that, from the forward, he was going to be far more strict with who could touch his toys…

My poor bunny…

Poe Dameron - Spaceship Crash

You and Poe had agreed to stay safe, to meet one another after the fight concluded.

Together, you were going to celebrate the victory.

Poe knew you were an intelligent flier, that you were going to do great things for the universe.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that everything went well, until he joined the celebrations…

Everyone was celebrating over the successful stop to the First Order. But as Poe searched the crowds, he realized you were missing.

Fearing the worst, he darted to the medical tents, desperately looking for you. His fears were met when he saw your barely breathing body.

Poe fell to his knees besides the cot you rested on, analyzing the damage you had taken.

He called out your name, to no response.

“Their ship was shot and crashed. There were some malfunctions and the safety’s didn’t trigger. They don’t have much longer, there’s nothing we can do on such short notice.” A nurse sadly explained.

“So you're just leaving them to die out!?” Poe exclaimed in horror, his tears falling fast and hard.

Despite wanting to reprimand the nurse, he knew it would do nothing. Instead, he held your hand to his lips as he watched you until your final breath.

In your final moments, Poe had been whispering soft and loving words to you, hoping you could hear him.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, that any of this happened. You deserve the world, the galaxy. You helped save us. You’re a hero… you’re my galaxy…”

Poe couldn’t stop crying, and he could barely hear himself over the cheering outside.

He should’ve been celebrating with you, this shouldn’t have happened.

No one knew where Poe had gone, and hours later, Finn had to pull Poe away from your body.

Despite all reluctance, Poe eventually left your side for the night, but he didn’t stop mourning you.

That night, he spent his time in your room holding your belongings close, not wanting to lose the last bits of you he does have.

My galaxy, I’m so so sorry…

Nathan Bateman - Killed by a Prototype

You had been one of the few people Nathan trusted enough to come around the house.

Not that he ever let you go downstairs, no.

He didn’t need you to.

When first developing Ava and her predecessors, he had chosen to try and study a real person. Not through the cameras like he did later on, no.

He thought it’d be better to model the AI after someone he liked.

But he was wrong. One of the few times he had let his emotions make his decision, and it was the worst one.

While trying to work out the kinks of the AI, it had escaped. It had knocked him unconscious for long enough that it made its way upstairs.

The girl stared at you in horror as you stood in the kitchen, knife in hand from making dinner.

You looked just as shocked to see a nude woman coming up from the basement, wires hanging from her broken arm.

She even looked oddly similar to you.

Before you could even react, she tackled you, the knife going flying.

Nathan, having heard the crash, awoke and ran upstairs.

He came up from behind and broke the AI’s skull, the body falling on top of you.

“For fucks sake. That was awf…” he trailed off once he shoved the AI’s body to the side and saw you.

Nathan didn’t know how to react seeing your bleeding body, knife sticking out from where your heart is.

There was no hospital nearby, and with how glassy your eyes looked, he knew you were doomed.

Silently, Nathan sat back on his knees and feet, just staring down at your lifeless body.

He wasn’t an emotional person, but he didn’t like how he felt at that moment.

His eyes searched yours before shifting to the dead AI woman, his creation, your killer.

Nathan’s fists reacted quicker than his brain had, and before he knew it, his hands were bloody from breaking the AI down to nothing but shards.

His feet moved to the bar, and before he knew it, he had drunk a full bottle of vodka.

His knuckles, caked in dried blood, chucked the bottle at the wall. The shatters go flying, some even hitting you…

Nathan stood over your body, once again, staring down at you. His expression unclear.

After your death, Nathan was far more careful. Adding keycards to open doors, not just simple locks.

He even kept the prototypes locked up no matter what.

And who knows, maybe your death is what got him to start drinking so much…

How idiotic…

Duke Leto Atreides - Poisoning

Leto knew the dangers of loving you, yet he still did it.

He always made his love clear, practically worshiping you in private.

Leto would risk his life and title as Duke just to care for you for forever.

He wanted to propose eventually.

But your life was taken long before he had the chance.

The Duke looked down at your slumped body, your poisoned drink spilt from where your head had fallen.

In that moment, Leto regretted never marrying you.

He loved you, but in theory, it was better to stay unmarried, open to alliances with the other Great Houses.

But this wasn’t worth it.

Your life wasn’t worth it.

Leto had to keep his composure in front of his men, but in the comfort of his room, he cried. He weeped.

His sobs shook his body as remorse and grief overwhelmed his senses.

Seeing your body in such a way, it shook him to the core.

Sure, he had experienced death before, but this was different.

He loved you, and he saw where you died, he saw you dead.

Choked sobs escaped his lips as he recounted all the moments you two shared.

He wished he could’ve kept you safe, stopped you from drinking the poison.

You were in the House of Atreides, you should have been safe.

That’s what ate at him. That you died where he swore you were protected.

You died under his care.

Why you were killed, he wasn’t sure. But he swore to find out, to avenge you.

If nothing else, he’d make sure to get you justice.

He loved you, and he messed up never marrying you.

I wish I had made you mine, my dear…

Prince John - Assassination

John, the prideful idiot, should’ve never put a bounty on Robin Hood’s head.

It only made his reputation worse.

John should’ve lowered the taxes, but he didn’t.

And now all the citizens hate him, rightfully so.

But John always had you to go back to, you to love and receive love back.

You tried to reason with John, to show him he was being unreasonable and bleeding his kingdom dry.

Yet he never listened, and he now knows the danger of not listening to the advice he gets.

You had just been going about your business, crossing through the towns when you were attacked.

What was supposed to be a simple robbery, turned to an assassination. One of Robin’s troupe mates had gone rogue; they wanted to send Prince John a message.

The message was received.

John had gotten word of what happened.

He found out about how you begged for your life.

How you cried before your body was abandoned on a wooded path.

It made him angry. It made John furious.

You didn’t deserve this. You advocated for the citizens, yet you were the one killed.

John had destroyed everything in sight upon hearing of your murder.

His guards and mother had barely been able to calm him down. But once he had come down from the rage, John broke out into sobs.

He was barely consolable, all he wanted was to fall into your arms and be comforted by you.

Just one more time, John wanted to feel you caress his scalp as you reassured your love for him.

He couldn’t believe he lost you, the only person who loved him.

In spite and pure hatred, John raised the bounty on Robin Hood and his gaggle of followers.

John wanted them alive so he could execute them on your behalf, but he’d take their dead bodies as well.

As long as they were dead, he would be content.

Robin Hood… you’ll regret this… hurting my beloved…

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Car Accident

Santi had been through so much in life, and it made him extremely overprotective of those he loved.

He always was worried and tried to protect you.

He didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, especially in the dangerous world we live in.

So why did the world still take you from him?

Santi didn’t know how to react when he got the call from the hospital.

He initially had ignored the call, thinking it was a reminder to set up an appointment or something. But when they called again a few minutes after, the blood in his face drained.

“… died… car crash…” those were the only words his brain registered the operator saying.

His heart broke into a million pieces and he felt like he was hyperventilating.

You died..? How could you die in a crash? After everything tried to do to protect you?

The call had ended and Santi sat hunched over, crying into the palms of his hands. His breathing was erratic and uncontrollable.

If he had picked up the first time, maybe he could have made it to the hospital. Maybe he could’ve said goodbye. At least, that’s what he thought.

“I’m so sorry- oh god, no…” He murmured over and over, desperately wishing it wasn’t true.

He almost wished he was at the crash, that way he could’ve seen you one last time. But now, he’s stuck waiting for the morgue to call, waiting to confirm that it’s your body on the table.

Santi’s sobs only stopped when he passed out from exhaustion.

Why did this happen to you? Why you…

Anselm Vogelweide - Shot on Accident

Anselm was known for his erratic and random behavior. That included when he’d change his mind on a whim.

Despite his absurd actions, you cared for him, as he did you.

Anselm always kept you nearby, and everyone knew that. Even people just passing through his office knew that.

He treated you differently, he treated you better than most of his other employees.

Where he’d change his mind as he saw fit with his clients, he was very firm with his decisions regarding you.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

So when Anselm decided to raise the price out of the blue on a client, the client was pissed.

It wasn’t unexpected that a gun was going to be pulled, but the gunshot that rang out- that was a surprise.

His men had already detained the perpetrator before Anselm realized that you’d been shot.

Your hands clutched at your bleeding heart, and your eyes quickly fell shut, your body following suit.

Disregarding his squeaking leg brace, Anselm dove to collect your body in his arms.

His eyes were wide with horror and disbelief at the sight of you dying in his arms.

The world was practically silent for him as he watched you breath your last breath.

Anselm sat there for a moment, pulling your body close to his chest in an attempt to preserve your warmth. He felt an ache in his chest when you gave no response, your body limp and spilling blood.

Anselm didn’t give himself the time to mourn or cry, instead he went cold, his heart stilling for a moment as his attention turned to the shooter.

Looking through the fogged glass lens, Anselm ordered to have your killer chained up in the basement as he carried your body to another room.

For months after your death, Anselm tortured the person who killed you.

The basement became a crime scene of horrific activities. Teeth and nail pulling, breaking bones, slicing skin, it was all incomparable to what Anselm felt the murderer deserved.

They killed his dear dove. This was the least he could do.

His disappointment was immeasurable when he found the murderer dead one morning, Anselm felt far from done torturing them.

The body was disposed of swiftly, and afterwards, Anselm visited the extravagant grave he made special for you.

It was only then, after everything, that he let himself cry over your passing.

My dove…

Llewyn Davis - Suicide

Llewyn was your friend, and the two of you always helped one another out.

He needed a couch to sleep on, you were open. You needed a drinking buddy, he was there.

You both couldn’t offer much monetarily, both just trudging through life and old habits.

But you always left the window unlocked, just for him.

Llewyn hadn’t heard from you in a while, and it had just so happened, he needed a place to stay and was in the area.

Throwing open the fire escape window, he hopped through, entering your apartment.

He called your name as he wandered around, confused where you could be so late in the day.

Yet, when he arrived at the bathroom door he paused, knocking before entering.

He instantly wished he never opened the door.

In the tub, surrounded by bloodied water, he saw you. Your face was towards the window, like you were watching the sky before you died.

The sight made him nearly hurl, but the tears made it out first.

What have you done…

Just when Llewyn thought his life couldn’t get worse, you decided to leave him just like Mike did…

Of course, he knew it wasn’t actually a choice to go against him, but it still felt like he was part of why you took your life.

And that broke his heart.

If he had just visited you or bummed at your place more often, would you still have gone through with it?

He called the police after a bit of a breakdown, and a few days later, he was alerted that your only goodbye was a note scrawled with “I’m sorry.”

Maybe the note was for him, but boy, he wished there was more.

A simple “fuck you Llewyn” would’ve been better than this…

You had always asked him to play a song, but he alway said no. He always said he was too tired, that music was his work, not something he wanted to do all the time.

You never pushed him to play for you, not like other people did. So, he never played for you.

But now, in front of your grave, Llewyn played his heart out to you. His tears bouncing off his guitar, onto the frozen ground where you’d been buried.

‘If I had wings, like Norah’s dove,

I’d fly up the river to the one I love…’

Abel Morales - Accidentally Killed During Work

Abel knew the dangers of letting his employees continue their oil deliveries and solo inspections.

So many of his employees had already been attacked, yet he still took the risk.

He just didn’t expect the attacks to get worse.

Sure, some had been threatened with a gun, hell, one was kidnapped and beaten.

But this was the first time someone actually died…

Upon hearing about your death, Abel stopped in his tracks and demanded to know what happened.

He felt like his life was falling apart the moment his wife explained what happened.

After so many troubles and hoops he’s had to go through for his company, he didn’t think he’d be losing one of his best employees as well.

You were doing a simple house call and sales pitch.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

If he had known your colleague wasn’t feeling well, he wouldn’t have sent you out to the call at all.

He never would’ve guessed you’d decide to go alone…

Abel felt guilty over your death. You died because the competition was trying to send a message, or at least that’s what he assumed.

Abel held his head high as he found out about the circumstances of your death.

Apparently, the murderers were only meant to rough you up a bit and dump you just outside city limits, in a particularly snowy area.

But as you tried to run away, one of the goons tried to shoot a warning shot to get you to stop.

The bullet hit you in the Achilles tendon.

You collapsed into the dense snow instantly, crying out in pain.

In fear of getting arrested, the shooters fled, leaving you to bleed in the snow.

You died of hypothermia. You could’ve been saved.

That’s what hurt Abel the worst.

If your killers had just tried, they could’ve brought you to the hospital. But instead, they’re now awaiting a trial and eventual imprisonment.

But because they confessed, and it was an accidental death, they would be able to have parole, they could walk free one day.

To Abel, they deserved to rot in prison forever. But he didn’t have the right to oppose the judge, not when your family had already accepted the punishment.

Abel paid for the funeral, and there he saw you for the last time.

I’m sorry this happened… I’ll take care of your family from now on. I promise…

—————————————————

Brb sobbing in the club rn…

For real though, thank you for reading!

Feel free to send over any requests/suggestions

411 notes · View notes

nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 10 months ago

Note

Hii so idk if u are planning on doing a part 2 for the stepcest or angst for a part 2 but I was wondering if you could write an angst about how they sneak around and eventually get caught?? It’s ok if ur not planning on a pt 2 😭 love ur writing style btwwww

Yasss I hope you like it! I wanted to post this last night but my sleep meds kicked in before I got to finish this part. There will be a part 3, as long as people want to read it:)

Pleaser - Stepbrother!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 2

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 1, Part 3

Summary: Your mom and Ethan's dad come home early, catching you in the act.

*there are mentions of a panic attack and some violence-related things, nothing too graphic...except the sex stuff:)*

A/N: I didn't think a lot of people would like the first part of this, and I kinda left this part on a cliffhanger because I love to be dramatic lol. If y'all want a part 3, let me know:)

You frowned when you looked at your phone and saw that your mom and Ethan’s dad would be home in a few hours. It was like everything changed after that first night. You were both loving the time you got to spend together, not just the sex. It really bummed you out that he could’ve potentially been a good boyfriend, but thanks to your mom getting swept off her feet by his dad, there’s no way it could work now.

You could tell that Ethan hated it, too. If it was up to him, they’d never come back, and he’d have you all to himself. He knew it wasn’t right, but he was catching feelings. The only thing that was going to get him through the rest of the summer was knowing that you were going to the same school in the fall. No parents, and no one would know that you were his stepsister.

“Hey cutie, what are you doing?” he asked, as he walked into the kitchen to see you in front of the counter, your back turned to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head on your shoulder.

He got concerned when he heard you sniffle, so he turned you around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

You wiped tears off your cheeks as you looked at him.

“Everything’s wrong. THIS is wrong,” you said, your hand gesturing between the two of you.

“I thought you liked the last couple days,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the linoleum tiles on the kitchen floor. He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t breaking.

“I did, Ethan! That’s the problem. I don’t want this to end,” you cried, as he pulled you into his arms.

“It doesn’t have to,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “We can make everything work. It’ll be okay.”

“How? There’s no way,” you mumbled into his chest as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“We just have to keep it a secret.”

You hated that idea but knew it was the only option. He stepped back to wipe the stray tears off your cheeks, before leaning down to kiss you.

He started to pull away, but you pulled him back in. Your lips moved so well with his, desperate to go at it again before your mom and Wayne returned home.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to be quick,” he said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and checking the time. “Dad said they left a little early, so they’ll be here in an hour.”

“Your bed or mine?” you asked, lacing your fingers in his.

“I like yours. It’s more comfortable,” he said, “I should really complain about that.”

“Yeah, then we’d have to explain why you know how nice my bed is,” you laughed, leading him to your room.

He helped you out of your clothes, not wanting to waste a single second of the time you had left. He started to strip, his clothes joining yours in the pile on the floor.

“What do you want, babe?” he asked, his hands running up your sides as you stood in front of him.

“I want to ride you,” you said, his eyes darkening at the thought.

“Since I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait to do it again, can I please eat your pussy first?”

“Please,” you whispered, as he pushed you back on the bed.

His head was between your thighs within seconds, his mouth working its magic. His tongue darted in and out of your dripping core, trying to get every last drop of you.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you whimpered, your hands running through his hair.

He gripped your thighs as he ate you out, pulling you as close to his face as possible.

His tongue started to focus on your clit, circling it with his tongue before he sucked it into his mouth.

“Oh shit,” you cried out, your grip tightening on his hair. He groaned, the feeling making you arch your back.

You started to move your hips against his tongue as your orgasm began to build, craving that sweet ecstasy. Your brain got foggy as you started to hit your peak. The only thing you could think about was how amazing he was making you feel as you tried to form words.

“I’m gonna-“ was all you got out, before your body started to shake. He slid his tongue back inside your pussy, massaging your fluttering entrance with it.

Ethan loved seeing you like this. The pleasure coursing through your veins and knowing he’s the one that caused it, made his cock throb.

He laid down beside you after he got you through your orgasm. “Come on, baby. Get on top of me.”

You sat up, the tingling feeling in your body fading as you straddled him. Your lips went to his as your pussy rubbed against him. He was gasping at the friction against his erection, but he needed to be inside of you.

“Condom,” he mumbled against your lips.

You sighed as you reached over to the bedside table and grabbed one, making a mental note to put them back under your bed when the two of you were done.

You started to stroke him, a low groan slipping past his lips, before you rolled the condom on him.

You both moaned out when you sank down onto him, before he muttered “So fucking tight.”

His hands went to your hips as you started to move, your pace building up quickly. The palms of your hands were pressed against his chest as you rolled your hips against his. You knew you didn’t have a lot of time left, and you didn’t want to risk getting caught. He watched the way your tits bounced as you rode him, pulling you forward to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, the position of your hips making it easier for him do drill into your g-spot as his thrusts started to meet yours.

Both of your movements completely stopped though, as you heard heavy footsteps walking past your door.

Ethan’s wide eyes connected with your terrified ones, as Wayne yelled “Ethan, where are you?” from his bedroom a few doors down from yours.

You were frozen in fear as you were still on top of him. “Baby, you gotta get up,” he whispered. You tried to, but it was too late once the doorknob to your room turned, your mom walking in. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you, a look of disgust on her face.

“Get dressed, now,” she said through gritted teeth, your heart pounding in your chest as tears started to form in your eyes.

She walked out, slamming the door behind her. You looked down to see Ethan’s tomato-red face, “Oh my god.”

He wiped your tears away as they slid down your cheeks, “We need to get dressed, baby. You need to get off me.”

You raised your hips as he slid out of you, your body now shaking in your fear. He slid the condom off, throwing it in the wastebasket and quickly putting his clothes on. You heard arguing from the living room as you tried to get dressed, your hands shaking as Ethan came over to help you.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, pulling your shirt down over your head.

“How the fuck is this okay?” you whispered, as he helped you put your jeans back on.

“Look, I’ll say this was all my fault,” he said, before kissing you for what you felt would be the last time.

“It’s not, though.” Tears flowed down your cheeks as you felt your chest getting tighter.

“Hey, breathe, baby,” he said, pulling you into his chest so he could rub his hands across your back.

You heard footsteps outside of the door again, Wayne yelling, “Ethan, get out here now!”

He pulled away from you, his own anxiety creeping up as he made his way towards the door. The footsteps headed back to the living room as the arguing continued.

You followed Ethan, not wanting him to take the fall for this, even though his eyes pleaded with yours for you to let him.

“Your perverted son took advantage of my daughter!” your mom yelled, anger dripping off her words.

“You said she was on top of him! How do you know it wasn’t the other way around?!” Wayne snapped.

Your mom was about to say something, when she noticed Ethan standing in the doorway, and you right behind him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you little creep?” she asked, walking towards Ethan.

“Stop!” you screamed at her. She stopped in her tracks, looking you over. You’d never raised your voice at her. “I’m the reason this happened.”

Wayne scoffed in the background as your mother’s face dropped.

“No, you’re not. Stop talking,” Ethan said, as your mom got closer to Ethan, her hand connecting with his face. The sharp slap made your ears ring as Wayne started to yell. “Don’t touch my son!”

“Your son had no problem touching my daughter!” she screamed. “Get out. Both of you.” She said coldly, looking between Ethan and Wayne.

“Mom, please calm down. I know this is bad, but-“ she cut you off before you could finish speaking.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

A sob slipped past your lips as you felt your chest getting tighter again, your panic attack rushing over your body as you struggled to breathe. Ethan turned to look at you. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe.”

“Don’t you fucking speak to her,” your mom snapped, pulling Ethan away from you. “I never should’ve trusted you alone with her.”

“Stop blaming this all on Ethan! We don’t even know what the story is!” Wayne yelled, as Ethan started to get mad.

“You want to know what the fucking story is? You two got married before you even asked us how we felt about it! I didn’t plan for any of this to happen, she didn’t either,” Ethan yelled, “I wish you two would’ve thought about asking us how we felt about it, because I would’ve told you I hated the idea of living down the hall from the girl I caught feelings for. Having to refer to her as my stepsister makes me feel so fucking sick to my stomach. I hate this!”

Your mom walked over to you, trying to calm you down when she noticed your breathing wasn’t normal. Your vision got hazy as you struggled to take more than shallow breaths. “Hey, Ethan! Help me!” your mom yelled, as you dropped to your knees.

He bolted towards you, lifting you back up to hold you against him as he swayed with you in his arms, trying to calm you down. His arms around you were soothing, as you started to inhale deeper than you were able to seconds before.

Your mom stood there, watching the two of you. She was still mad, but there were other things she and Wayne needed to talk to you about.

“We’re separating,” your mom said, as you pulled your head away from Ethan’s chest. “We did rush into this.”

Wayne’s head nodded as he stared at the floor.

“Why did you go on that trip then?” you asked, your words still shaky as you calmed down.

“We went on the trip to see if there was any way we could make this work. We ended up heading home early because we knew we couldn’t,” Wayne said, as Ethan looked over to him.

“You seemed so happy,” Ethan said, as Wayne chuckled.

“We didn’t want you two to worry. We were going to make things seem normal until you guys went off to school.”

“We were going to tell you when you came home for Thanksgiving,” your mom said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “At this point, I think we should start to think about Wayne and Ethan moving out, as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, I’ll reach out to my friend that’s a realtor in the morning,” Wayne said, still not looking up from the floor.

You stood there next to Ethan, not sure how to feel. Your mom and Ethan’s dad weren’t showing a lot of emotion.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” your mom said to you, gesturing for you to come with her. Your scared eyes met with Ethans before you followed her through the house and out the side door. You both took a seat on the patio chairs, as she took a deep breath. “How long has that been going on?”

“You mean, how long have I had a crush on him? Or what you walked in on?” you asked, your gaze not meeting hers.

“Were you interested in him before you knew I was seeing Wayne?” she asked, smoothing a wrinkle out of her shirt as she spoke.

“Yeah, I’ve liked him for the last couple years,” you admitted, “I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

“I wish you would’ve told me,” she sighed, “Maybe it would’ve stopped me from making my mistake.”

She let out a small laugh, as you started to feel sad for her. “Mom, why did you get married without talking to me about it?”

“I don’t know, I think I just didn’t want to be alone. Wayne felt the same way. We both had a child going off to college, and our houses were going to be empty. I knew you’d think we were moving too fast.”

You both sat in silence for a few minutes, deep in thought.

“This thing between you and Ethan can’t happen. At least not while he’s in the same house as you,” she finally spoke. “I’m not sure what people will think, but the marriage did only last a few months.”

“Seriously?” you asked, a smile forming on your lips.

“I need to know though, were you being safe with him?” her heart was pounding as she asked the question, hoping your answer would be what she wanted it to be.

“Yes,” you said, as she let out a sigh of relief.

“I know you’re going to be here with him alone while Wayne and I are both working, at least until they get another house. I’m going to ask Wayne if he’d help me put up cameras in the house. Just so I know you aren’t doing things you shouldn’t be,” she said, as you felt the small glint of happiness fade to anger.

“That’s a serious invasion of my privacy,” you said, before she put her hand up.

“I’m not going to put them in the bedrooms or the bathroom. I just want one in the main hallway, one in the living room, and one in the kitchen. I meant what I said earlier when I said I didn’t know who you are,” you heard the disappointment in her voice again.

“This is stupid,” you said, getting up and walking back through the side door.

Ethan was sitting on the couch talking to his dad as you made your way through the house. His eyes were on you, observing the pissed look on your face. When you walked into your room and slammed the door, he had this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

That night, Ethan and his dad went to the store to get the cameras. You soon heard the sound of the drill outside of your door as they mounted a camera to the wall in the hallway. You rolled your eyes, irritated at the sound and the privacy you no longer had.

“Hey, I picked up some food,” Wayne said against your door. As pissed as you were, you were still hungry. You opened the door and took the bag from him but noticed Ethan behind him on a ladder with the drill. His shirt raised up a little, showing his toned stomach as he installed the camera. He winked at you when his eyes connected to yours.

“Goodnight,” Wayne said, moving away from the door. You closed it behind him and pulled out your phone to text Ethan.

You: I can’t believe you’re helping with this

A few minutes after the drilling stopped, you got a response from Ethan.

Ethan: Did you forget that I’m good with technology? I have a plan

You smiled as you read it, curious to know what his secret plan was.

#ethan landry #scream smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut

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hereforthehitsbaby · 8 days ago

Note

Heya! I have a request with your angst prompt list number 29 with Cooper!!

Just anything that comes to mind with it. Be creative and have fun, no pressure❤

More Alike Than You Know | Cooper Abbott x F!Reader

Warnings: DARK FIC: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Angst, Reader has been kidnapped, language, Pervy!Cooper, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Choking, Cooper is a sick little freak, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Over the clothes stuff, Drugging, Biting, Edging, Hair Pulling, Mentions of panic attacks, Mentions of fear,

Rating: E - No Minors!

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request sweetheart! I think this is a clear key indicator of why the prompt should not be left up to me because I made this dark, angsty, and somewhat smutty????

If you would like to be tagged, please fill this out

Trust is a funny thing, how are you supposed to trust? How do you know when to trust, or if it’ll be worth the time? We are born trusting; Our life is in someone’s hands – we know no other feat except that. But when in our lives does it switch? When does the light go off in our minds? Is it the first time we feel betrayed, hurt, scared? Is it when we have promises shattered and hopes ripped apart? Or is it when we realize nothing truly matters in life – what exists at the end of the day? It sucks away the trust you have for the world, for the universe. Why do some of us trust too much? Are we afraid that if we don’t, everything we have will crumble? It’s a blessing and a curse to trust, especially with those who only mean harm from the get-go.

That’s how you ended up in your current position, tied to an old wooden chair that creaks with each squirm you let out. Ankles bound down to the grain, wrists falling not far behind. The wirey texture scratched at your skin, causing a burn to invade the area. Your breath rough against the slight chill of the basement. The shiver running down your spine made you feel sick, at any moment you felt like you were going to pass out. Maybe it was the fear of not knowing? Maybe it was the fact that you woke up here? Maybe it was the drugs currently running through your system, on their last legs to keep you bound and complacent. Your head lolls side to side as the fluorescent lights above you buzz with anticipation; A headache focused behind your eyes pounding with the sound. A simple groan releases from your mouth as you try to bring your focus in front of you, seeing a figure sitting in the desk chair to your left, back to you as they type away.

The clicking on the keys does nothing but make you hiss, eyes finally focusing back in as your mind clears – the fog subsiding. Taking a deep breath, you felt a pain ricochet through your shoulder blades that caused a gasp, jutting forward to bend over your knees. The sharpness of it causing you to lose your breath for a moment, struggling to regain it. Unlike anything you ever felt before, this deep-set blast made you question what could’ve caused it, what could relieve it. Trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill, you caught the figure to your left spinning around – their booted feet now facing you easily. Ragged exhales left your parted lips as you started to straighten out, feeling the release of the tension in your back – the crack exhaling all the trauma you faced. “I see you’re up now, hi sleepy head.” The voice rang out in an echo, your mind reeling as you tried to place it.

Letting your eyes focused on the room, you noticed every detail. The stark white walls bare with any semblance that someone lives here. The table against the wall to your right covered in plastic, metallic tools glinting under the bright lights. Across the concrete floor sat a thick blue tarp, stains of what you hoped was rust at your feet – gliding across the entirety of the left side. Your heart started to speed up as your eyes panned closer to the voice, seeing the Victorian era desk pushed against the corner of the room, the antique chair creaking as the figure leans back. The clean yet worn boots they wore were industrial it looked like; They had to work a manual labor job. The crisp denim jeans were clean of any residue or dust – even blood. A plain burgundy cotton shirt sat across their chest, tight in all the right places whilst being loose in others. From the neck down they looked like everyone else, you’d never expect this out of someone like that. It’s when your eyes landed on his face that you threw everything you knew out the window, throwing away everything that made you scared in that moment.

Gentle brown eyes watched you like a hawk – trying to evoke something in you to say you’re safe. It worked in a way, because you felt the fear lessen as you took in his facial features. The gentle tick under his eyes, the quirk of his lips, the soft stubbled grazing his jawline and upper lip. His hair the color of mocha, a few strands falling in front of his forehead like he had been adjusting it, the pomade no longer holding the professional shape. Every other white man you have ever known looked exactly like this; Wholesome, strong, prominent. They held importance in their everyday life, no wonder no one suspected him. It made your chest burn with undercover rage and worry as to why it was you in this position, what your purposes was, and where the actual fuck you were. Sliding your tongue across your teeth, you stared intently into his eyes, never losing a moment to back down.

“Why me?” It was a simple question that held so much behind it. Yet, it was a fully loaded question. The man pondered for a moment, brows creased as he contemplated your question. His right brow cocked slightly as he leaned his head to the right, taking in every angle of your face. A small chuckle released from his lips as he came to his full height, towering over you. “Why not you?” He didn’t blink for a moment, taking in your reaction as your brows went slack, finding what he said hard to comprehend. You were confused, and he found it endearing – cute even. A gentle smile creased across his bottom lip, slipping from one side to both in a second. Reaching forward, he ran the outside of his right first finger against your cheek, feeling how you shivered under the contact. The exhale he released was one of relief, contentment. How soft your skin was against the harsh interior of the room – now realizing it was a finished basement. You shouldn’t have liked his touch as much as you did – reveling in how warm it was against you. Reality set in quick, but not enough to contemplate what this is all for.

“I’m nothing, no one.” There was no hesitation in your voice as your words slipped out, like it was factual. It was bullshit, you are someone, you are important. It was the marketability that made you choose those words carefully. To this man, if you seemed like no one then maybe he would let you go. Shaking your head to push his touch away, you huffed as you struggled against your ties, gritting your teeth against the burn of the rope. “I-I don’t have cash, I’m sorry I don’t-“ you swallowed, thrashing slightly in your chair as you shook. It was a struggle to try and get your words out, finding it difficult to think coherently when your blood was rushing through your ears, your heart thumped in your stomach. As you tried to find your words to express what else he may have wanted to hear, the man held a finger up to you – silencing you as he shook his head. “I don’t want your things. I don’t need them.” It didn’t come out as a question nor a statement – but fact. He was so sure of himself, so sure of what he didn’t need from you, and that was terrifying.

Bile rose into the back of your throat, fear gnawing at your throat, threatening to spill over. Swallowing down the harsh lump wanting to make an appearance, you narrowed your gaze at the man, twisting your wrists behind your back to loosen the rope; Though it would not budge, you needed to try. “Then why?” It made no sense as to why he plucked you, out of everyone else he could’ve had, off the street. Was I walking home, or was I already home? The night prior was fuzzy, a black hole of mystery you were trying to break through – needing to know how he got you here in the first place. The man huffed as he walked closer to you, kneeling in front of your feet. The way the bright lights glinted off of his eyes, shimmering those golden flecks within, made your heart race – you knew it shouldn’t have. There was no denying how attractive this man was, but an utter fucking psychopath is all he would ever be.

Bringing his hand up to your face, the man caressed your cheek softly with his thumb again, sighing into the touch. “You were too perfect to let go,” he whispered, letting the pad of his thumb glide across your chapped lower lip. The way his pupils dilated when he said that made your stomach simmer, a pleasant ache wiping across the area. Seriously, right now? You cursed mentally to yourself, shamed that you were turned on in the moment. Nothing is sexy, nor exciting about being kidnapped and held against your will – but yet here you are, feeling your panties become soaked at the idea of what this man could do to you. You watched at his prominent nose twitched, his gaze slightly narrowing, his lip curling upwards. Mania laid dormant behind his eyes, threatening to spill over at the smallest of actions from you – it was then that everything made sense, as to who this was. Your breath got stuck in your lungs, refusing to release at the thought.

“You’re that guy, from the Lady Raven concert. Aren’t you?” You couldn’t believe it, all this time and only now did you make the connection. Your palms became waxy with sweat, chafing against the hemp rope as your body broke out in a cold sweat. The shiver in which ran through your body made you anxious, needing to get out of this chair and put a good distance between the two of you. Alas you could not, instead stuck to your chair, watching as his eyes grew darker. His smirk never faltered as he watched you with intent, trying to gauge what you were thinking – what was running through your mind. “Which guy?” He asked, coyly.

“The Butcher.” You remembered what happened last month; The Lady Raven concert wound up being a giant trap to catch him. He kidnapped her, she escaped. He tried to kill his wife, he was arrested. He broke out of police custody and was on the run. It had been almost a month since that happened and yet – he was still perusing around. He was like a ghost, seemingly never existing after that whole debacle. And yet, even you questioned if you made the right call by saying that. Was it really him, could it really be him? He looked intrigued, curious as to how you made the connection, without him ever revealing it. “You think I’m capable of that?” He shot back with a smile, one that would put anyone else to ease. It was sweet, generous and kind – everything a charismatic serial killer aspired to be. He was unassuming, until you got too close. Shaking your head, you turned away from his grip to stare at his desk, trying to keep your emotions level. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

He seemed to have won this time, considering the grin that pasted itself onto his lip. A dark laugh seeped from his parted lips as he watched you, his grip on your face getting a bit stronger; Possessive but not enough to hurt you. It was enough to keep you in your place, to silently berate you if you even tried to do anything. Enough to show you the lack of control you had over the situation. You were trying to wrack your brain for his name, what the news had called him outside of The Butcher. It was on the tip of your tongue and yet, you lacked the capability at the moment to remember. C, it was a C. Carter. Cameron. Conner. Cooper. “Cooper. The news said your name.” A smug tone laced your words as your eyes met his; His cool was lost in that moment. That once calm demeanor he put on, the control over the situation was faltering as you said his name. You could see how his eyes grew wider, his smile tucking into a thin line. “You think we’re on a first name basis?”

Anger was prevalent through his words, the nice-guy act falling to the wayside. Pulling back from you with a blank stare, Cooper stood straight up, glaring down through his lashes at you. It all made so much sense now, he was hoping you didn’t know who he was. A triumphant snicker released from the back of your throat as you grinned, watching him. You were not going to back down, you weren’t going to give into him or what he wanted you to be. At the end of the day you are your own person, there was no fucking way you were letting him have the upper hand. Pissing him off as your goal, and by God you were going to do it. “Of course, no one would suspect you,” the words slipped out of your mouth before you could have thought otherwise. You didn’t purposely try to rile him up, it came naturally. Cooper’s gaze never faltered as he watched you, his face still blank, never letting you know his next move. “Typical trophy husband, savior to the town. God, how fucked up are you?”

Cooper began to move around you as you spoke, the last line made him stand directly behind you. Not being able to see him made you fearful, wondering what he could do to you if you did not know. Would this be the end, would everything just go black and you never have a chance to fight back? Bouncing your legs as you stared forward at the staircase, you felt your pulse thrumming against your neck, in your head, in your chest. "Your mind must be a horrible place.” You weren’t purposely trying to egg him on. You lost your sense of having a filter when you were afraid. It was a defensive mechanism for you when things got to be too much for you, and in this current situation it had a way of pissing Cooper off. Warmth started to spread across your back as Cooper got closer, the heat radiating off of him falling down the back of your neck. Letting your eyes close for a minute, you felt the hot pan of his breath over the shell of your ear, whispering: “You have no idea.”

You hated how your body reacted to his words, how close he was to you, how good it felt. Trying to focus on anything else in the moment was impossible, your mind reveling in the close proximity to him. Cooper’s large hands came to rest against your tank-top clad shoulders, enough force to keep you seated but not enough to hurt you. Enough for him to say I’m in control, versus you. Nuzzling his nose against the nape of your neck, Cooper let his hands run down to your arms, his calloused fingertips grazing your skin. “You want to know what’s on it right now?” There was a hint of possession and lust in his words, causing you to gulp down the pool of saliva in your mouth. Gripping your fingers behind your back, you inhaled sharply, licking your lips as you stared forward. “No.” You tried to sound intimidating, mean, enough to make Cooper fuck off across the room again. But to him, it was endearing. The little fight you had in you, he was intoxicated with. “Why? Scared you might like it?”

You had to give it to Cooper, he was cocky – he knew he was attractive and knew how your body reacted to him. Never would he seize the opportunity to exploit that. The dark chuckle that rang out behind you made your skin feel tight, an electric burn radiating down your spine and across your brain at how sexy it sounded. You loathed how much the sound excited you, how even if this situation you found yourself aroused. The brain rot of dark romance ruined the situation, making this out to be a dream versus reality. Trembling under his touch, he nipped at your earlobe with a groan, pulling back slightly to run his fingers over your hair, gently twirling a few strands framing your face. “I’m picturing all the fun I’m going to have with you.” You didn’t miss the groan he released at the end of the sentence, nor did you miss how his hips jutted against the back of your chair. The harsh denim of his jeans rubbing against your exposed skin. “No one around for miles, they won’t be able to hear you scream.”

The quivered whimper you let out was supposed to be inaudible, only for your ears versus Cooper’s. But alas, your body betrayed you. Hearing that made him sigh dreamily, his body dripping with arousal. Cooper’s hand that was exploring your arm came up to slide up your front, between the valley of your breasts, and settling right against your neck. His thumb and forefinger caressed your pulse points, gripping enough to where you could still breathe but, still cutting off the blood flow to your brain. You couldn’t do much except lean back into him as he did so, his lips caressing over your ear. “I bet you are so loud, I bet you beg and beg until your voice gives out.” He let out huskily, using his teeth to nip right behind your ear. The small jolt of pain caused your eyes to close, your body rolling against the chair. Cooper took this as a sign of your submittal, pressing his lips to that sweet spot on your neck, his tongue rolling over the skin. “Just taking everything I give you, such a greedy girl.”

“You’re a fucking monster,” you thought, trying to hide the fact that it was turning you on. His possessive grab over you, the way he was grinding against your back. You felt so fucked up for being turned on in this situation, you felt grimy even thinking about it. Letting your eyes fall shut, you tried to calm yourself down by thinking of anything but the predicament you’re currently in, trying to regain your mental strength if you were going to get out of this. “Call me that again, baby,” Cooper rasped, causing you to break out of your dissociation. Your eyes flicked open quickly to look at the wall ahead of you, creasing your brow as to why he said that. How could he have heard your internal thoughts? “Fuck, say it again.” Only this time you realized you had spoken those words aloud, causing Cooper to thicken in his pants at your degradation. You shouldn’t have found it intriguing at all, or played into it. But sometimes, the mind wanted to do what the body desperately hoped.

“You sick freak, fuck you.” Cooper whimpered into your ear as he grasped your neck harder, pulling your head back into him as he used his other hand to grab at your clothed breast. Through the thin, ribbed fabric of your tank top – Cooper tweaked you peaked nipple, the cold making it stiff. You hated how easily it was to elicit a moan from you through one simple action, a flow of arousal coating your panties. He wasn’t a gentle man in the slightest – in fact he was quite rough. Pulling at your nipple sent a shot of pain through your body, you couldn’t help but whine. Cooper used his torso to push you forward in the chair, removing the back easily as the wood crashed to the ground. The rickety chair made sense, but you never expected such a modification to it.

“I’m almost there sweetheart, keep going.” Cooper sobbed into your neck, biting the gentle skin around your shoulder.

His hips worked in tandem with his hand; Slipping from your nipple to the front of your leggings. Your body opened up for him, your legs falling quickly so he could slip his hands between. The plushness of your thighs made him quiver, his fingers molding to the covered flesh. He was so desperate for you, grinding against your back as he rubbed over your cunt. He could feel the hotness radiating from it; His self-control waning. The elegant sound of your small cries filled the air, your hips moving against Cooper’s hand. His thumb finding your clit through your leggings, pressing harshly against the bud to elicit a loud sob. “I said keep going,” he growled against your neck, biting tenderly at your flesh.

“Y-You’re psychotic,” you managed to let out, your hips grinding against Cooper’s hand. There were no thoughts in your brain, only enjoying the pleasure of which he was giving you. The fucked up nature of this, mixing with pleasure only made your mind reel at what you were feeling. “True evil.” The words fell out in tandem with Cooper’s moans, with his thrusts against you, with the fluctuating grip of your neck, with the deft circles rubbing between your legs, “horrible, horrible, man.” None of your words held any merit in this moment, they weren’t true slipping out from you. But you didn’t want him to stop, as much as you hated to admit it. You needed to cum, needed Cooper to show you pleasure you hadn’t even been able to make yourself feel. In this moment you were submitting to him, letting him have his way – in hopes for a jaded orgasm.

“That’s a good girl,” Cooper grinned against you, kissing over the bite mark he left. With a few pointed thrusts against your lower back, Cooper let out a hearty moan against your flesh, a small bit of drool slipping down your skin. Each thrust he produced was weaker than the last, signaling that he had reached his orgasm, his climax rocketing through his body. The whimpers he was riding out with his orgasm edged you closer to yours, needing to feel him bring you to the edge. “You’re disgusting.” You were desperate to climax, to cum against your leggings, embarrassing yourself for him. You wanted to do anything and everything in your power to please him, if it meant he wouldn’t stop. Letting your hips work in the same motion his hips were, Cooper pressed the palm of his hand hard against your clothed core, placing a few hard slaps to your center. “Sshh, stop pretending to hate this,” he mocked in your ear, sighing dreamily as he stopped thrusting.

“I know your purposely left the door unlocked for me.” The declaration was like ice water, drenching you from your blissful state and bringing you back into your reality. Shooting your eyes wide open, you spun your head to stare at him, seeing the smirk on his lips as he chortled. “I know that you wanted me to catch you in the shower.” He was relentless, driven by his own post-nut clarity to humiliate you, but he had it all wrong. You didn’t purposely leave your door unlocked, your landlord never bothered to fix it when you complained. This was his retaliation for calling him lazy. In a way it was like he knew your manager never fixed it, taking advantage of it – and you. Shivering under his touch, everything felt like acid. His touch between your legs turned to be too much, causing you to try and pull back. The throbbing of his bite on your shoulder you’re your skin crawl. “C’mon, I know what you’re doing.” He was matter-of-fact with his statement, rolling his eyes to drop the act.

Pulling away from you, Cooper came back around to your front, squatting in a low position to stare at you. The reality of the situation came back to full light as you stared at him, the tears threatening to fall once again. Between the frustration you felt of being denied your orgasm, but also in knowing Cooper waited you out, made you feel hopeless. Turning away so you didn’t meet his eyes, Cooper grabbed your chin softly, not hurting you but needing you to look at him. The reluctance you gave him only made him grow harder for you, the softness in his body for you enhancing. “Just say it and I can make it come true.” He was so out of his mind he genuinely thought you wanted this, instead of it just being clouded by lust. It made you feel physically ill, the fact that you gave into him so easily, you should’ve felt shame…but you felt something else entirely. “Complacency isn’t my thing.” Back at it you were with the stone faced act, not giving him what he wanted. It was in that moment you saw the shift in his eyes, the twitch in his jaw, the tick of his nose. He wasn’t pissed, he was silently fuming at your sudden switch.

Pulling his hand away hard from your chin, Cooper stood up on cracking knees, huffing out in annoyance as he peered down at you. “Too bad.” It was monotoned, lacking any sort of empathy or emotion. He said it like it was an inconvenience, like he was too good for you. It made your body reel with anger and fury, the silent rage brewing beneath your skin. Cooper walked away from you and to the back corner, enough out of the way to where you couldn’t see him, fuck you could barely hear what he was doing. The faint sound of liquid being muffled by something made you feel worried, trying to clumsily work the knots in your bindings. You tried to hide your thrashing but it was no use, you were full blown panicking as his footsteps drew closer. It’s when the sound of boots hitting the concrete stopped, that you felt scared.

Cooper grasped hard at your hair, yanking at the root to pull your head back to him, forcing you to stare up at him. “Stay fucking still.” Cooper seethed as he pressed a cloth hard against your mouth, covering your nose completely. Panic radiated through your body as you were bound, a cloth covering your mouth and the ability to breathe taken away from you. The harsh grip he had on your hair made your tears fall, your lungs burn from lack of oxygen. Gulping hard into the covering of your mouth, the sickly sweet taste and smell coating your tongue like an ugly film – breathing in the chemical made your lungs burn. The corner of your vision started to blur, getting fuzzier the deeper your breathed in. Cooper’s face morphed horrifically above you – the evil smirk and glint in his eyes staring intently at you. You felt your body to limp, your muscles seizing to work, your struggles subsiding as everything shifted to black. The only thing you remembered before you passed out, was how Cooper stared at you. It was primal, waiting for his prey. You, were never going back home. That broken lock, cemented your fate.

-----

Tagging: @minedofmoria @lilly3434 @lunaluvsuu @rplver @kissofdawn666 @hibiskooks @fore45fore @lustskitty69 @rottenangel @anamiad00msday @livelaughl0ve3 @cxrrodedcoffin @greenparadiseperry @ochoag31 @theoraekenslover @fl4weriesworld @exhoism @solarmoonn30 @babygorewhore @amethystblackkchaos

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 1 year ago

Note

I'm kinda leaning on the Toji x reader, Kokoshibou x reader, Muzan x Reader, or Ganondorf x reader stuff we mentioned, ngl - H

I'm partial to the Muzan x Reader one sooooooo You'll find it below~!

My apologies for how short it is, but sometimes, short is sweet

Title: In Sickness and in Health

Characters: Muzan x m!Reader

Contains: fluff, sickness, near death, pet names (love, dear)

Fandom: Demon Slayer

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI (This may not be smut, but I still want the above to be followed)

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"My love...I think...it's time."

You lie on your back on the bedding Muzan had made for you, a bedding befitting royalty. Pillows softer than an angel's wings propped up your heavy head, and blankets more plush than a sheep's wool covered your body.

A sickness had attacked your body, and despite his knowledge in medicine, Muzan was unable to find a cure for this disease, leaving him to become a mess you had never seen him become. Worry took over his own body, panic slowly creeping up on his face as you spoke the words he never wanted to hear you say.

"My dear, please, don't say such things. You merely want to rest, yes? Then please, rest."

"Muzan..." A weak, pale hand raised to gently caress his chilled cheek. "We both know what I mean...and I'm ready."

You were grateful, as this sickness had taken the years to finally get you to this point. You were able to enjoy what time you were given to your husband, and throughout that time, you had come to accept what was to come, especially since a cure seemed further and further out of reach.

You had never seen this man cry, so to see him shed so many tears at your bedside only made your heart ache, even more so when he gripped at your hand, thinking holding it tightly would keep you down to earth with him.

"Muzan, shhh...please...I promise...it's better I go while I'm ready...than to leave with regret."

He knew that. He of all people should know that, especially with the time he has spent alive. He has seen many people come and go, but never, never has he felt such a fear of losing anyone before.

"...You can't leave me...I'm sorry..." Muzan's voice shook as he spoke, pressing your hand and his to your forehead. "Please...give me more time. I can find a cure! I know I can!"

"As great of a doctor as you are...not everything is meant to be cured..."

Ah, that's right. That's what he told you. He told you he was a doctor. He had almost forgotten his little white lie amidst his rare emotions.

"But...you cannot expect me to just let you die..."

"No...No I don't." Your voice was weak, and it only weakened by the minute. "I expect you to let me go, to allow me to move on. I told you, love...I'm ready."

"But I'm not! Please just..." He choked on a sob, wracking his thoughts around for an idea.

And one came to mind.

Immediately, his emotions flipped like a switch, and he slowly gazed at you with red, puffy eyes.

"My love...If I...If I may be selfish..." He stood from his seated spot, his hands moving up your arm until one rested under your head, gently lifting it so you two could meet eyes. "Please...allow me to..."

"Muzan...?" You furrowed your brows, tiredly meeting his eyes as he moved around. "What is it you wish to do...?"

"I...I have not been honest with you, dear. There is...a part of me I kept hidden from you for so long." He thought carefully about what to say, about how to say it. "This part of me...I never wanted you to see, to experience, but..."

You chuckled lightly before it turned into a phlegm filled cough, only startling Muzan further. However, you spoke before he could utter a word. "Alright, love..."

Muzan froze, unsure if he heard you correctly. "A...Alright?"

You gave him a weak smile. "I'm not sure what you're wanting to do, but...heh...I trust you." Honestly you thought maybe he was finally losing it at this point, considering how he had behaved with you during your sickness. Your sickness was lighting the fuse, and you dying was the explosion you never wanted to see. However, who were you to deny him at this point?

Your trust was all he needed, and it was like all fear and sadness left like water rushing out of a dam. Adrenaline kicked in, and with a bite of his tongue, Muzan's lips met yours.

At first, your suspicions felt correct, though you weren't complaining. His kisses were always lovely, and you'd be a fool to leave before receiving one last kiss from your husband.

But what you weren't expecting was the rush of blood that poured into your mouth.

Metallic liquid settled against your tongue, sliding down your throat. You had never tasted anything so foul, but as you swallowed it, you wouldn't remember the taste. In fact, you wouldn't remember anything for awhile.

It felt like a blink, and you were sitting up in bed, panting heavily as your eyes darted around the room. Your vision felt...cleaner, clearer. It was...sharper than before. Your body felt famished, like you hadn't eaten in weeks.

"M-Mu...zan...?"

Even your voice was affected, hoarse and weak. At first you thought it didn't change based on your sickness from before, but no. It had changed. You just didn't recognize it yet.

Muzan stood by the bedside, his red eyes gazing down to meet similar red irises. He knew well what he had done, and he was ready to accept the consequences of it, whatever they may be. For now, he saw this as a moment of joy, and he reached for your hands once more. Again, an emotion you never thought you'd see on him molded his face, leaving him smiling slightly wider than usual.

"My dear...you're just like me now. We can walk the earth to the end of time...as demons."

In all honesty, this is a nice segue into a possible part 2, so should you desire that, please let me know once requests open back up!

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #demon slayer #kibutsuji muzan #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan x male reader

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jaykaysthicthighs · 9 months ago

Text

The Path Of A Singer | JJK

excerpt | the appearance of your old lover pops up on tv, and the horrible memories showed itself once again.

genre | heavy angst, cheating, abuse, minor fluff

rating | 18+

warnings | strong language, present & past, toxic relationship, mental & physical abuse, jk cheating, panic attack, alcohol and drug consumption, lots of crying, heartbreaking conversations, jk being vile, lots of yelling, jk manhandles the reader, mention of abusive father, mention of ptsd, reader being selfless (you might not agree with the decisions she's made, but don't hate her; she's a broken person), maybe more

wc | 4K+ (very short)

notes | it's been a hell of a long time since i wrote and posted anything....!!!

my inspiration came from watching the movie insidious: the red door lol. the reason for the mature rating is because of the strong language, the heavy conversations said, and the talks of alcohol and drugs. i want to say that i'm not romanticizing this type of relationship or the behaviors of the characters, i'm just making a story that maybe some people might have gone through. sometimes the decisions made or thought of does not make you a bad/horrible person. everyone had a reason good or bad; you just have try to be understanding. i also tried to make this as heartbreaking as possible, but for some reason i feel like it's not. hopefully it does pull some heartstrings for you guys.

You finally arrived home after an exhausting day of work. Your roommate wasn't home yet, so, luckily for you, you're able to binge eat without the concerned eyes of your friend watching you.

You walked your way to the kitchen and made yourself some sandwiches, you also grabbed some water on the way to the living room. When you made it to the couch, you plopped down heavily. You grabbed the remote and started scrolling through the channels. You came across a channel that was showing a music festival, and without thinking about who might be performing you clicked on it.

The first performer was a group called XG. As they were performing, you happily ate while vibing to their songs. At one point, you started singing as well, not caring that you still had some food in your mouth. If the neighbors were able to hear you, they would probably think someone is dying - yelling for help.

When you finished, you got up put away your dishes, and made your way to your room to change your clothes. As you were changing, you felt a bit lonely. You and your friend don't have any pets, no companion to keep any of you guys company. You exited your room with a simple sweater and shorts.

You made it back to the living room with a content expression on your face, unfortunately, it wouldn't last long. As you were about to get yourself situated on the couch, you looked at the TV screen, and the one person you never wanted to see again was singing.

You fell to your knees with a hard thud, watching the screen with horrid eyes. It's been three years since you saw him. In those three years, you tried your damned hardest to avoid anything and everything that involved him in it. The pain he caused you still resides in your little heart.

You didn't realize but you started crying; the tears rapidly falling. Your body started shaking; the little goosebumps displaying your skin. Your chest felt heavy like a huge wave crashing on you, and the water is rising up into your nose, making it hard for you to breathe. You felt like you were suffocating, and the lack of air was making your head light; dizziness taking its place.

On the outside, you were frozen, but on the inside, you were trying to claw your way out. You felt like you were scratching every surface of your body, but you weren't moving an inch. Your brain was screaming for help, but the only thing leaving your mouth was the hardness and unstableness of your breathing. Right now, you were wishing for your friend to come home right now and save you.

Three Years Ago

You were in your car driving your way to your boyfriend. Jungkook's manager called you demanding that you come and pick him up. You don't really know what happened, but from how his manager sounded, you were thinking that he got himself drunk and high again, causing thoughtless actions.

Not too long ago, Jungkook was able to get into his dream record label. After years and years of hard work, passion, and dedication he was able to pursue his dream. What you didn't realize is that with Jungkook getting to follow his dream of being a singer, he would soon lose his sense of self. In just two weeks he was starting to drink, and in another week, he started experimenting with drugs.

As time went on, so did your patience. You would try and try to stop him - to help him, but every time Jungkook would stop your advances. Pushing you away and causing you pain made Jungkook feel superior, it made him feel proud that he reached a certain height in life.

Your guy's relationship now consists of yelling and crying. Jungkook started to mentally abuse you, but even so, you would accept it. You didn't have the strength to leave him - to leave the man you love since middle school. You couldn't leave the man who would write songs about you, the man who would wake up during dawn and make you a big breakfast, the man who would call you no matter the time, the man who would always tell you how much he loves you every second of the day. You didn't have the strength to leave him.

With all your anger, you finally made it to the studio in one piece. When you entered the building, the looks on the staff's faces were concerning you. One of the staff went up to you and told you to not go inside the studio. You looked at them judgingly and pushed your way through them, but they still tried to stop you.

"What is the problem? Let me through!" you yelled. They gave you a sad look and apologized, "I'm sorry ma'am, but Jungkook is very busy, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to go inside there." Your anger was boiling, steam coming out of your ears. "Sorry for yelling at you, but I don't fucking care if he is busy. Jonny called me saying that I need to pick this asshole up, okay? If you're worried about me finding out that he is high or drunk - even both, don't. This is not new to me."

The staff in front of you looked like she was on the verge of tears. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she got the chance, a disheveled woman left the room your boyfriend was in. You watched her with wide eyes as she left the building with a smile on her face. You stomped your way to the studio door ignoring the pleas from the staff. You pushed open the door causing a loud bang, startling the man recognized as Jonny.

Jonny swiftly got up and the first thing you noticed was the bloody nose. You walked your way to him digging in your bag grabbing some tissues for his nose. Gently placing it on him, you politely demanded, "Where is he, Jonny?" The man before you faced his eyes on the floor. "Jonny, you called me here, so, don't fucking hide anything from me. Where is he?"

The man took a step back letting the blood freely fall again. He shook his head, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you. I've ruined everything." You gritted your teeth and threw the bloody tissue at his face. "Where the hell is he, Jonny?" you yelled.

A second later, Jungkook swung the bathroom door open with nothing but some sweats on. Your heart dropped from his appearance. It was evident that he had fucked the girl from earlier. You guys made eye contact, and you could tell immediately that he was high out of his mind. "Get out, Jonny," you said without looking.

When you heard the door shut, that's when you crumbled. Your eyes started blurring with the tears that were coming. Your body shaking with rage. You walked up to the fucked-up man and slapped him. "Why? Why? Why the hell would you do this to me?"

Jungkook harshly grabbed your wrists and laughed. He laughed like what you had said was something funny. You can smell the horrible alcohol leaving his mouth as he laughed. "Because it's fun, babe."

The pain rippled throughout your body. You snatched your wrists away and bellowed, "You're hurting me! You're destroying me! What does she have that I don't? I thought you loved me?" Jungkook towered over you; he grinned, "I don't love you." Your whole world died. Never had Jungkook spouted those words. It tore you limb from limb, slowly but surely. And that was all it took for you to call it done.

You were fine dealing with his hurtful ways. You were fine being the punching bag. But you were not fine being cheated on. Even with Jungkook in this fucked-up state, not once had he said that he didn't love you, and not once did he ever cheat on you. You felt lower than before, and you didn't want to feel like that. You knew that the moment he started doing drugs and drinking alcohol, the man you once knew would be gone. Still, you had hoped there might be a tiny sliver of him inside, but today proved - his words proved you wrong.

Your eyes hardened and your expression became stoic. Without trying to sound broken you seethed, "We are done! You fucking hear me? I am done with your shit - with everything!" As you walked your way to the door, Jungkook rushed in front of you and pushed you to the ground.

The wind got knocked out of you; you started bawling your eyes. For the first time, you were scared of the man before you. Jungkook locked the door behind him and dragged you by your feet. You tried kicking your feet, hoping that his release would loosen, and you could run away. But before you knew it, Jungkook locked you both into the soundproof booth.

When his grip on you was gone, you scurried to the corner of the booth shielding yourself with your bag. Jungkook walked to you and kneeled to your level. "Don't hide from me, baby." He gently grabbed your bag and tossed it to the other side of the booth. You closed your eyes; you couldn't see the monster of the man you love.

You felt Jungkook tenderly cupping your jaw. You trembled beneath his fingertips; quietly whimpering. It stayed like this for a few seconds until you felt his touch disappear. With your eyes still closed, you could hear Jungkook digging for something. You heard a rustling sound of a Ziplock bag. You knew better, you knew that he was using drugs right now.

"Open your eyes, ____," Jungkook demanded.

You didn't answer, you didn't move. This pissed off the man in front of you. He slapped you, making your body jolt, making your eyes open. You brought your hand to your cheek, tears threatening to fall. "See, it wasn't that hard?"

"W-what do you want... from me?" you stammered.

Jungkook seethed, "You can't leave me. I won't let you leave me. You owe me. All that money I spent on you, all those years I wasted on you - I want that back! And the only way you can pay me back is by being my bitch. You are fucking mine, ____!"

You finally let the tears fall again. Your whole body shook like lightning shooting throughout you. Shaking your head, you wailed, "No! No! No! Please! Don't do this to me, Dad! Stop hurting me!" For the first time today, Jungkook felt his senses come back. Your words panged his heart.

Your mother was never in your life. It was always you and your father, but your father was an abusive man. He would try to find any little thing to blame you for, just for him to lay his hands on you; from hitting, kicking, even to cutting. You had met Jungkook when you were thirteen years old, he comforted, protected, and helped you. When you finally turned eighteen, that's when you moved in with him - that's when you finally felt peace.

Jungkook cupped your face into place. He frantically said, "____, it's me. Your dad's not here. It's me, Jungkook." His touch burned you; you felt like dying. You mustered all your strength and pushed him away. You gripped your shirt and yelled, "No! You're not him! You're not Jungkook! You're a monster and I don't even recognize you!"

Monster... That simple word rang in Jungkook's mind. Monster... Such a terrifying word. If he was a monster, his reason would be because of you. Unfortunately, all the drugs and alcohol in his system weren't enough to keep him sane for one minute. Jungkook launched at you. His hands wrapped around your throat, choking you, but still letting you breathe.

You started clawing your nails on his bare arms. Digging deep that blood starts making its presence. But all that Jungkook could see right now was red. He couldn't feel the pain you were giving him; he couldn't hear the agony in your voice; he couldn't see your wrecked state. Red became his friend.

"You are the reason for my horrible being. You are the reason why I'm a monster. You bitch! If you hadn't kept pushing me to pursue this fucking career, I would've still been the same. If you hadn't been so loving and caring and supportive, we wouldn't be in this predicament. I can't believe that I fell in love with a disgusting person like you. I can't fucking believe that I let you take control of my whole being!"

Right when you were on the verge of passing out, Jungkook released his hold on you; he backed himself on the other side of the booth. You were catching your breath. Your hands shakingly touched your neck, throbbing against your frail fingers. You were painfully coughing; mentally asking God to help ease your pain. Your eyes went in and out of vision; red and black dots were the only thing in sight.

Jungkook watched you with dark eyes. He watched as you were struggling to regain your previous state. He watched as you were crying from the pain, he inflicted on you. He watched the one person who was always with him, the one person who loved and cared for him no longer be the same. He killed you, painfully and slowly.

Present

"____, look at me. It's okay. It's okay." Your friend Lia gently held your face in place. She called out your name, praying that you would settle. She watched as you were frantically breathing; your eyes looking everywhere but her; your body shaking like the room was freezing.

Your panic attacks rarely happen, but when they do, Lia feels so useless. She wished that she could help ease your pain, she wished that she had the power to prevent this. But all she could do was hold you and tell you that you're okay.

Minutes go by until you are finally back. "____?" Lia cautioned, "____, look at me. Are you okay?" As you looked at Lia, you could see the worried expression painting her beautiful face. You hated yourself for making her feel like this, but you couldn't help it. This feeling will never go away; it gets buried six feet under, but once he appears they come back.

"Lia," you whispered, "I saw him again... on TV." Lia took a deep sigh; she hated the pain he caused you before and now. She wrapped you in her arms, holding you with such care. The second you were in her arms, you broke. You cried and cried, loudly speaking your pain.

Lia felt her shirt dampen, but she didn't care. Whatever you do to her, she will take it all in, as long as you feel better in the end, Lia will gladly be your tissue, your enemy, your punching bag. Lia murmured against your hair, "I'm here. I will always be here." She held you tighter; she didn't want you to fade away from her.

You took deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You pulled away from Lia and made your way to the couch. You brought your knees up and buried your face in the space between. You hissed, "I hate what he does to me. He's not even here!" This time you whispered, "And yet, he's able to bring me down to my knees... scared."

Lia met you three years ago; months after your event. You were just a newly hired TA. When Lia first saw you, you looked like a girl who was barely keeping her life together. You told her beforehand - when you started room mating with her, that you have PTSD and that your panic attacks happen from time to time. You didn't really tell her the whole story, just that you were in a very abusive relationship and that you experienced something so terrifying. She accepted you with an open mind and open arms; from then on, Lia became your rock.

Lia got up and sat right next to you. She wanted to ask you a question, but she was scared that you would hate her or push her away for asking. But this question has been in her mind for a while now. After taking a few seconds thinking to think it through, Lia wiped her sweating palms on her pants and inquired, "____, if you don't mind me asking... why didn't you call the police on him? You should've, 'cause I don't think he should be performing after everything he's done to you."

Your eyes started getting blurry; you told yourself the exact same thing, but there was a reason. With your head still buried, you softly replied, "It's easier said than done, Lia. I wished I called the police on him - I wish I could call the police on him, but I can't. Because in simple words... I love him. I hate myself for loving him. Even after everything he has done to me, and everything he has said to me, I love him. Does that make me a horrible person?"

Lia felt herself invisibly jumping out of the couch. No way does she think you're a horrible person. You're just a person who's been through something horribly traumatic. Her heart was filled with so much pain for you. Lia positioned herself so she was facing your small figure, and expressed, "____, no way in hell are you a horrible person. Far from it! I won't be able to say that I relate or know what you're going through, because I don't. But I am able to say that I'll support you and understand your feelings and decisions."

You lifted your head but still kept your eyes on your knees; you muttered, "I met him when we were thirteen years old. He was a very shy and reserved kid - hated social interactions. I remember..." you quietly giggled without realizing when you were remembering the fond memories, "I remember when he used to make small mixtapes every anniversary with letters. He wasn't always a horrible person. He used to be kind, supportive, and loving. One of my favorite things about him was his selflessness towards me. I loved that he would always think about my needs, what I wanted, what I was thinking, and how I was feeling, but in turn, he did the opposite for himself. It was a blessing and a curse."

Lia looked at you and saw the small smile showing. This look was rare for you, and every time it made its appearance, Lia would always treasure it. "He must have been a great person for you to smile like that." You furrowed your brows; you turned to Lia with confusion. "What smile?" you questioned. Lia rolled her eyes, "Well, there's no smile anymore."

You took a deep sigh and apologized, "I'm sorry for talking about him. It's just - just talking about him in this light makes me happy and warm... even if it only lasts for a few seconds." Lia noticed that you started tearing up. Your face was slightly contorted with pain; you were trying not to cry, holding it in but it didn't work. Your tears were freely falling, and Lia comforted you once again. You quietly whimpered, "During that time I called him a monster, but really, I don't want to remember him as the monster in my life because at one point he used to be my prince who saved me from one. I try to think and talk about him in this beautiful light that he used to be under - I want to remember him as that, but the pain he brought upon me is too hard to ignore." You started wailing at this point, "It continues to haunt me, and I hate it! I want to hate him, but I can't! I can't!"

Lia felt herself crying for your pain. She felt herself slowly dying by your words. It truly kills her that her most precious and beautiful friend is going through so much pain. As you both cried into each other's arms, you could hear Lia continuously apologize through her cries. You were so grateful to have such an amazing person as her.

Once you were calmed down, you pulled away from the still tearful woman and wiped her tears away. "Don't cry anymore, Lia." you sniffled, "What happened to me - what's still happening to me would never be fully cured, but I know that whatever happens next, you'll be by my side, and slowly but surely, I won't be able to be to feel the pain anymore. Okay?" Lia nodded her head with a soft smile. You're right, as long as she's with you and as long as you are with her everything will be fine. You guys are each other's glue - each other's person.

There is no doubt in your mind that this pain will pass by. You don't know how long that will take, but until the day comes, having Lia with you eases your heart from pain as much as possible.

"You mailed her my letter?"

"Yes, Jungkook."

The tired man finished his show with a bang, and even though people enjoyed his performance, Jungkook couldn't seem to feel all that happy. For the past year since he finished his rehab, nothing has felt more depressing.

The morning of that night when he woke up, Jonny had told him that you had left, and he was to go to rehab immediately. He hated you for leaving, he hated that you left him in such a messy state. Jungkook blamed everything on you. Jonny had told the ill man that if it wasn't for you, everything that he had worked so hard on would go down the drain. At first, Jungkook didn't understand why you left or what Jonny was saying, but as time went on, he knew that everything was his fault. His addictions and his abusive behavior were all his fault. The reason for your disappearance was his fault. Your pain - everything was all him.

Jungkook knows that there will be no way for him to fix the things he has done and the things he had said, but even so, he would try his damn hardest to fix it. When he finished rehab, Jungkook made it a mission to send you a letter every week, telling you about his days throughout the week, how much he loves and cares for you, telling you how much he is so regretful. Deep down he knows that he is being selfish, he knows that he should let you go - let you move on, but the helpless man is stuck in the past. The past is what keeps him alive. The past is his only source of reason. Jungkook doesn't want to let go of that one thing he has left of you.

Jonny felt so much pity for the man, he didn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't know your address. He would accept the letters, promising that he would mail them, but when night rolls around your letters would be burned. Jonny wanted to quit being Jungkook's manager, but you begged and begged for him to stay with the broken singer. You wanted Jungkook to at least have one person for him to lean on when things get hard. Jonny admires your strength - how strong of a woman you are, so, he agreed.

"You should just stop already, Jungkook. She's never gonna mail you back. I know your reason, but you lost her, and you can never fix that." Jonny was getting tired; tired of seeing the broken singer trying with no prevail.

Jungkook walked up to his manager and lowly whispered, "You think I don't know that, Jonny? Ever since I learned that everything is my fault... I knew that she would never come back to me. Yet I still hope - even if that hope is microscopic or nonexistent, I hope that I will be able to see or be with her again."

The fatigued man took a few steps back and lowered his heavy head down. His eyes searched the floor trying to keep his tears at bay, but it didn't work. The salty tears of this poor singer escaped and landed harshly on the wooden floor. Sniffling, the fatigued man uttered, "You think I don't know that you burn my letters?" Jungkook lifted his head up and saw the ashamed manager looking back at him.

He continued, "You're not as discreet as you think you are, Jonny. I went to your hotel room to ask for a favor... and I saw you burn my eighth letter with sadness swimming in your eyes. I connected the dots from there, and I realized that you never sent any of my letters because you don't know her address, huh? You're left in the dark like I am, huh? You know nothing about her whereabouts, about how she's doing, about anything, huh, Jonny!" The manager kept quiet; didn't know what to say.

Jungkook slumped down on the nearest chair with a hard thump. He leaned his head back with closed eyes and softly whimpered, "I now understand the meaning ‘You reap what you sow’… I'm never gonna stop. I know I can never fix this, but I promise you Jonny, I will never stop. Ten years - fifty years from now, I will keep writing her letters... knowing that deep down all of this is for nothing. I don't care if I'm shaming myself by doing this - I don't care about anything but her. She's not mine anymore but I'm forever hers. Let me live like this. Let me live with the consequences. Let me drown myself in this regret."

The destroyed man opened his eyes and gently moved his head to the side to see the lone figure of his manager feet away. With a deep sigh, Jungkook claimed, "You're just my manager, right? So, don't involve yourself in my pitiful life. Just do the job you were hired to do, along with getting my letters. Don't care what you do to them - burn them, keep them hidden, rip them up... doesn't matter, just don't let me know about it; let me falsely believe that you mailed them to her. Alright? Now please get the car... I wanna go home."

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archangeldyke-all · 8 months ago

Note

Okay first time I regust something.

So the principal call Sev and reader to the office cause little fucker have been in a fight. Cause she defended herself for a bully(like she taught, come on she’s Sevs daughter)

The bully has been bullying her. She ignores it but when the bully does anything to her friends BOOM

LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

you pull up to your daughter's school in a panic, your eyes frantically searching the parking lot for your wife.

sevika's smoking on a bench waiting for you: a habit she's managed to kick unless she's really worried. and she only gets really worried about you and little fucker.

"hi baby" you say as you approach her, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

she tries to hide her cigarette, flicking it away from her body and fanning the air around her. you snort and kiss her head as she hugs you back.

"how's your day goin'?" she asks, taking your hand and walking the two of you toward the school. you scoff.

"was goin' good until i got this call. you?"

"was actually pretty shit. i was sorta glad i had a reason to leave work, until the secretary told me the little shit's bleeding." sevika sighs. you cringe.

your daughter's been having some issues with a girl in her class, a little asshole who seems to think your daughter is an easy target.

your sweet little girl-- despite the fact that sevika's been teaching her self defense and mma since she could walk-- has never done anything to escalate the situations. she just takes the abuse and comes home with tears in her eyes, crying in your or sevika's chest about the stupid little shit who's been terrorizing her.

you've had to talk sevika out of killing the ten year old about five times this month.

but now, as you push into the principal's office and your eyes land on your baby-- her eye swollen shut, her bottom lip puffy and bleeding, her nose broken-- you think tonight sevika might have to be the one holding you back from child-murder.

"oh, baby." sevika whispers. you can hear her heart breaking in her voice. she approaches your daughter carefully, kneeling down in front of the kid and cupping her cheek. "fuck, kid, are you okay?"

your little girl bursts into tears. your heart breaks.

sevika takes a seat beside your daughter, holding her and cooing at her as she pets her hair and lets her cry into her chest. you press a quick kiss to little fucker's head, then turn your angry glare on the principal, sitting in the middle of the room.

"what the fuck happened?" you growl. the old man sighs.

"your daughter attacked her classmate natasha on the playground." he says.

"that stupid bitch natasha's been pushing my kid around for weeks. and if i recall correctly, you did nothing about it 'cause natasha's parents are big donors." you growl, your fingers clenching into fists at your side.

"ma'am, verbal taunts are different from physical violence."

"did you beat her ass, baby?" sevika's voice cuts in. you chuckle as you watch the principal's face fall in horror, and then look over to your family to watch your daughter nod against sevika's shoulder.

"knocked her front teeth out." she mumbles. you burst into laughter, and sevika ruffles her hair.

"atta girl." she praises.

"ladies, please, we can't encourage this kind of behavior in response to some light teasing--"

"it wasn't light teasing, mr. rolla. she was bothering little jamie, the kid with the crutches in my class. kept kicking his crutches out from under him, so i kicked her feet out from under her. see how she'd like it." she grumbles.

you can't contain your smile. sevika can't either. mr. rolla seems appalled.

"so what are you doing to this natasha kid?" you ask the man. he gawks at you.

"n-nothing! natasha is currently at home nursing her injuries, i think she's suffered enough!"

"listen here you piece of sh--"

"sev." you cut your wife off with a hand, and she huffs. your kid giggles a little, and you wink at her before turning your attention back to the principal in front of you. "what's her punishment?" you ask. he sighs.

"suspension for rest of the week."

you shake your head, scoff, then turn your back to the man.

"well kid, looks like you got a week vacation!" you say to your girl. she smiles at you.

"ma'am, it's not a vacation it's meant to be a punis--"

"maybe me and ma'll take work off-- we can have a family week vacation." sevika suggests. your daughter's eyes grow wide, and you grin.

"i like the sound of that, babe, good thinking." you say. "i think we should get ice cream for lunch today, too. something cold to help that swollen lip of yours." you say.

little fucker bursts into giggles, and sevika grins, hoisting your girl up to carry her on her hip, then walking out of the office. you turn to follow them, but stop before you can fully leave, turning around and glaring at the flabbergasted principal sitting in his desk.

"you know mr. rolla, i know that big donors are essential for the school's livelihood, i get why you're goin' so easy on natasha. but... i also know that you and old ms. washington have been hooking up on the regular. and... i happen to know that mrs. rolla gets her hair done on that salon off 54th? on the first of the month, right? it would be a shame if she were to get a visitor at her next hair appointment with some bad news..."

the man in front of you goes deathly pale, and you giggle, turn on your heel, and leave the office.

outside, sevika and your girl are giggling with one another as they wait for you. when the three of you start your trek back outside, sevika grabs your hand and shoots you a questioning look. you giggle, then lean in to whisper in her ear.

"may or may not have threatened to ruin his marriage."

sevika grins, looks both ways down the school hallway, then pulls you into a wet, sloppy kiss. you moan against her lips, and her hand trails down to squeeze your ass.

"moms, stop! you're embarrassing me!" your daughter whines.

you and sevika pull apart with guilty chuckles, then continue to walk your kid out of the building and toward the nearest ice cream shop.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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her-power · 5 months ago

Text

So Called Chaos (Part Two: Modern single dad! e.m x fem reader)

❤️‍🩹🚨‼️18+ Minors DO NOT interact ‼️🚨❤️‍🩹

Trigger warnings/content warnings: Talk of suicide, talk of death, grief, hurt, comfort. Talk of PPD/PPA. Strong Language. Fluff. Lots of kissing, some petting, nothing explicit.

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 3.2k

(Reader POV)

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your hair dripping wet from your shower. You stare at the scar that sat below your left breast and wraps around to your back was slowly starting to fade, which made you happy, it was a constant reminder of that horrible night five years ago. You sigh, opening the bathroom mirror, taking out your morning pills. 80 mg of Prozac, 1000mg of gabapentin for nerve pain, Excedrin twice a day for migraines, 800mg ibuprofen for muscle pain. You didn’t even bother to go over the nighttime list; you were tired of taking pills, but it had become your daily routine for the last three years since you left the hospital. Moving back to your parents’ house was a decision you and your psychologist made together, but you were set on starting over, leaving the place where your entire life ended. Your mother’s death after the accident was the tipping point, you weren’t sure if you could handle anymore loss, and there was speculation that your mother took her own life. Your father was diagnosed with early onset dementia, you tried to visit him at least twice a week. He still had his sense of humor, but there were times he would ask you about her…about him, and you had to smile, tell him that they were okay, and change the subject.

Moving back to Indiana was a fresh start, and it almost felt like fate to you when you ran into Eddie Munson. The boy you grew to love in a short amount of time, the boy you thought about even when you said your ‘I dos’ to your late husband. Your stomach churns when you think about Sam, your sweet, kind, beautiful husband, he held on until the very end, talking to you while you were pinned beneath the dashboard, the air freezing, the sound of sirens swarming around you. You didn’t know at the time he was impaled in the stomach by a piece of metal, that once they removed him and the piece of metal, he would bleed out and die. He knew he was dying, but he made sure to keep you talking. “Remember when we went to Aruba?”

“I can’t feel my legs…why is it so cold…”

“Keep talking to me, baby.”

“I can’t see you…where is Lily?”

“They got her out…”

“Sam…are we dying?”

“No…stay with me…”

“Do you think there’s waterfalls?”

You were delirious at that point, you were falling in and out of consciousness, your lungs were heavy, they rattled when you breathed in.

You grip the sink in front of you, a panic attack settling in, you didn’t want to take your anti-anxiety, you need to do the deep breathing. You need this anxiety to go away before you saw Eddie, you weren’t ready to show him this side of you yet, you weren’t ready to tell him what happened to you, your husband, and your daughter.

“We can keep her comfortable, but there is no brain activity…”

“I don’t understand…she was fine…” You whisper, the pain in your bones becoming unbearable, you felt your heart turning to stone.

“You have been the reason why she has been hanging on for these last six months, I know you probably don’t believe it, but she can hear you. It’s your choice what you want to do next.”

You inhale a sharp breath. “Let her be hooked up to machines or let her die? How does a mother make that decision?”

Tears fill your eyes, and you wheel yourself over to your three-year-old daughters' bedside. You take her little hand in yours. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” You cry, kissing her palm and stroking her blonde curls. “You’re our little fighter. Daddy is waiting for you, okay? Don’t be afraid. I’ll find you.”

You sit on the floor of your bathroom, hyperventilating and you groan, holding your stomach. You let out a loud wail, full of anger and sadness. Your family never got justice; the drunk driver was released after only being in prison for a year. And you couldn’t bear the thought of staying in the same town where he resided.

You lean your head back, breathing in slowly through your nose and out your mouth. Deep breaths, baby. They’re coming I promise. Your heart rate slows, and your tremors disappear.

After giving yourself a few moments to calm down more, you step into your bedroom and get dressed. You toss an oversize knitted sweater over your head, black leggings, and your doc martens. You toss your hair up into a messy bun, dab your face in subtle make up and lip balm. You stretch your back, feeling your spine pop back into place and you grab your car keys.

You had texted him that you were on the way to the café, and he had asked you for your coffee order. When you pull into the lot, you are amazed at how quaint this place was. It must’ve been new; it was on the same strip of road where Miss Byer’s store was.

You spot Eddie’s hair as soon as you walk in, he’s making silly faces at Hunter who is sitting in his highchair, eating a cake pop. Eddie meets your eyes, and he smiles, standing up as you walk over to him. He hugs you tightly, and you look down at Hunter who gives you a large toothy grin.

“Oh hello, handsome, you look just like your Daddy.” You smile, gently tickling his cheek and he giggles. You sit down across from Eddie who hands you your coffee and Hunter goes back to eating his cake pop, while watching a toddler educational video on Eddie’s phone. Eddie leans his chin on his palm as he stares at you and you blush, sipping your coffee.

“You’re staring.” You giggle, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He laughs, leaning back in his seat. “It’s just wild that after all this time…”

“Yeah.” You smile, looking into his eyes. The same ones you fell in love with all those years ago; the eyes that held a story, even now.

“What have you been doing all these years?” He asks you, and you should’ve known that would’ve been a question he’d ask you. You swallow a lump in your throat, your leg bopping under the table.

“I graduated from college with a degree in English and teaching. I was an English teacher in the town I was living in for about ten years. Met my…husband at the school I was teaching at.” You smile at him, and he smiles sweetly at you.

“Where’s your husband now?” He asks.

Just tell him this part. Just tell him the first part of your tragic story. The rest will come later.

“He…he died, about five years ago.” Your eyes are welling up, but you don’t bother to push them back.

Eddie’s breath hitches and he lets out a huff. “Jesus, I’m so sorry.” He reaches over to grasp your hand and you take it willingly. You meet his eyes; they were sad for you.

“I’m okay.” You tell him with a grin. “I promise. I’m okay.”

You feel a damp, sticky hand pat the top of your hand and you look to see Hunter’s hand on top of yours, smiling at you. Your heart does a back flip as his blue eyes stare into yours, you take his little

“He likes you.” Eddie says with a chuckle. “He’s a lady’s man.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” You glance over at him, and he almost chokes on his drink.

“I barely had any ladies.” He laughs. “A lot of them just used me because I was in a band.”

You grin, Hunter grips onto your finger and you feel a certain love creep up on you that you have missed for so long. You make a silly face at Hunter who giggles, and then yawns. Eddie smiles, “He got up way too early this morning.” He brushes his curls from his little head. “He’s probably ready for a nap.”

You stare at Eddie, wondering if you should say what you’re about to say. “I’m sorry about Olivia.” You say gently. “I didn’t hear much about it, just that she passed, but…I’m really sorry.” You had known Olivia as an acquaintance, seeing her at parties when you were younger, or when you would sneak into the Hideout, from what you remember she was really nice.

Eddie stares at you and swallows hard, nodding his thanks. “I didn’t know you kept up with the trials and tribulations of Eddie Munson.” He jokes.

“Social media has it’s perks.” You laugh. “Robin posts a lot of pictures of this little guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah, she’s obsessed with him. She keeps telling Vicky she wants a baby.”

“That’s amazing.” You smile. “She should do it.”

Hunter makes a little squeal and giggles; you take that as a cue that he was getting tired, and it was time to go. Eddie stands up, pulling him out of the highchair and you all walk out of the café. A sudden pain jolts down your leg, causing you to lose your balance but you catch yourself.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Eddie asks, gripping your forearm while Hunter rests his head on his chest.

You try to laugh it off, but the pain was getting worse. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just some muscle spasms. The luxuries of getting older.”

Eddie could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on, and you knew you couldn’t drive. You clench your teeth, the pain radiating to your other leg as you lean awkwardly against the wall of the café. You wanted to scream at your body, for taking this moment and ruining it because of your shit damaged nerves and muscles.

“Sweetheart…you’re shaking.” He tells you gently. “Why don’t I drive you back to my place? I don’t know if I feel alright with you driving home like this. You can sit, relax, put your feet up and we can come back for your car later.”

“Eddie, I’m fine.” You sigh.

“You’re so not convincing.” He laughs and you stifle a giggle. He switches Hunter to the other side of his hip and gently takes his other arm and reaches out to you. “Come on, can you walk?”

“I can manage.” You say softly, and his arm wraps around your waist as he easily lifts you from the wall and you slowly walk together towards his truck. You lean against the passenger side door while he buckles Hunter in his car seat. You rummage through your purse to find your gabapentin, and quickly take the tablet, dry swallowing it. The medication would take affect soon, so you had to suffer with the pulsating pain for the next few moments, but you’d been through worse. Eddie shuts the door to the backseat and walks over to you, you smile at him, still gritting your teeth.

“You’re gonna tell me what this is when we’re back at my house, right?” He says, gently running his thumb over your cheek and you tremble.

“I’m fine, Eddie.” You whisper and he dips his head down to look into your eyes, giving you a sly smirk and you laugh. “It’s nothing serious. I’m just old.”

“Liar.” He smirks, opening the door for you and he slowly helps you step up into the truck. You roll your eyes, and he winks at you, shutting the door and you sigh.

“Da…Da…Da…Da…hee…hee…” Hunter says behind you, and you laugh.

“Yeah, your dad thinks he’s funny.”

“Fun…ee…” Eddie is stepping into the driver’s side and whips his head to look at Hunter.

“Did he just say funny?” Eddie looks at you, pure pride and excitement on his face. “He just said funny! Good job, buddy!”

You smile at his boyish face, and Hunter continues to say funny over and over again on the drive back to the house. Eddie is laughing, but also feeling extremely overstimulated with the repetition of the word. “He’s gonna keep saying it, isn’t he?”

You laugh. “Yup. Welcome to parenthood.”

By the time Eddie had pulled into his garage, Hunter was sound asleep. The medication you took was easing the pain, you were able to gently lower yourself out of his truck and follow him and a sleeping Hunter into the house. His drum set, guitar and musical equipment catches your eye as you walk up to two steps into the house and you smile, glad that he still kept his music talents going after all these years.

He quietly shuts the door to the garage, and you stand awkwardly in the kitchen. You feel his hand on your lower back. “Go sit down, I’ll be down in a minute.” He whispers and you nod, carefully making your way towards the couch. You flinch as you sit down, you stretch out your legs, wincing as another shooting pain radiates down your leg. You try to focus on something else besides the pain and look at the framed photographs on the wall. There was a nice one of Eddie and Hunter what looks like to be his first birthday and Hunter is holding a toy guitar. You see one of Olivia holding Hunter when he was just born, you had forgotten how pretty she was, and you could see where Hunter got his eyes from. There was a framed autograph picture and gold record of Master of Puppets. That makes you smile, and seeing all the Lord of the Rings merchandise that graced his walls. The pain subsides and you perch your feet up on the ottoman, staring up at the ceiling when you hear Eddie come walking down the hallway. He places the video monitor on the coffee table next to him, sitting down across from you.

“How long have you been in pain like this?”

You smirk, he gets right to it.

“Five years.” You whisper, pulling your left leg under you and stretching out your other leg.

His eyes widen. “Five years? What happened?”

You sigh. “Eddie, it was a long time ago. I just got some nerve damage and crappy muscles in my legs. It’s just something I have to live with.”

“What happened?” He asks you again and you sigh, pulling your hair out of your bun and letting it fall, rubbing your scalp to soothe the tightness.

“Car accident. We were hit by a drunk driver.” You whisper.

Eddie is quiet. “Is that how your husband died?”

You nod, stretching out your leg again, you wanted to leave out what happened to Lily for as long as you could. “That is how my husband kicked the bucket.” You lean forward to massage your calf and chuckle. “Sorry, my trauma response is dark humor.”

Eddie stares at you, pointing to your shoes. “May I?” You stare at him and then your shoes.

“What do you want with my shoes?”

He laughs. “I don’t want your shoes, dummy. Take them off.”

You stare at him and lean forward, untying your boots and kicking them off your feet. You stretch your toes and Eddie takes your foot, resting it against his knee.

“Where does it hurt the most?” He asks you, gently massaging the top of your foot.

“Eddie, you don’t have to do this.” You say, blushing at the softness of his fingers as they glide over the exposed skin of your ankle.

“You’re in pain, and I’m not a fan of people I care about being in pain.” He smiles at you. “Where does it hurt?”

You sigh, pointing to your middle calf area. “Here.”

He gently rubs his palm against your calf, and you groan, he stops and meets your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just…” You sigh, adjusting your position. “Why are you doing this?”

Eddie isn’t sure how to answer that, he isn’t sure why he’s doing it. He just knows he wants to; he wants to make you feel better. His hands continue to massage your calf, and he gently lifts your pant leg. The first thing he sees is the end of a stem of a tattoo, covering a large scar. The tattoo is three red roses, wrapped around a thin sword. Eddie glances up at you and sees that your eyes are filling with tears, and you have to look away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Eddie leans towards you, cupping your cheek and you shake your head, tears spilling over your cheeks. You inhale, gasping as a sob escapes your lungs and he moves next to you on the couch, pulling you to him. He holds the back of your head and cradles you to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You…you didn’t…” You gasp and you have to pull back from him. “Eddie…I’m not…I’m not the girl you remember…there’s things that happened that completely changed the person I was.”

Eddie stares at your face. “I’m not the same boy you remember.”

You meet his eyes. “This was a mistake, coming here. Seeing you…there’s so many things that are coming back and so many feelings that I can’t even process right now. I can’t let you see this side of me, you’ve already seen too much.”

He whispers your name, reaching up to hold your face and you try to flinch away, but his hands are soft, and he instantly relaxes you. “What I see is a woman who is trying her damn best to keep her head above water, who experienced too much loss. What I see is a beautiful, strong, resilient woman who I can’t believe walked back into my life.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Eddie…”

“If you want to leave, you can leave, but I’m telling you right now…there’s a reason we met at the bookstore. There’s a reason you’re here right now…after all this time.” His face is so close to yours and you can’t help but stare directly into his eyes.

“I can’t bring you into this…with everything you have going on.”

Tell him what happened to Lily, baby.

No. No. I can’t. I can’t. It’s too damaging. I don’t even like saying it.

The two of you can help each other.

No, no, Sam, please. I can’t. It’s not fair to him.

I think he loves you.

I loved you! And you died.

Tell him, baby.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, tears continuing to spill on your cheeks. This was too much; all of this was too much.

You take his hands away from your face, pressing your forehead against his. You couldn’t tell him.

Not yet.

You couldn’t tell him about your baby girl.

Your forever three-year-old.

Not yet.

So instead, you kiss him.

(Taglist - thank you for all your support my beauties, it means the world - @mysticpeachobject @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @fearless-wretch-insanity @darknesseddiem @amberolivia666

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fluff #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson series

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winchesterwild78 · 2 months ago

Text

A Night of Shadows and Strength

Characters: Jensen x Reader (wife)

Warnings: Panic Attack, Angst, fluff

A/N: Story idea given to me by @cheekygirl2309. Jensen is having a panic attack and the reader is there to comfort him.

As someone who has anxiety, it is no joke. When I’m having a panic attack I often feel like I’m dying, and the despair that comes with it fills your very soul. Then comes the guilt and embarrassment of having one. I’m slowly learning, it’s okay and isn’t something to be ashamed of. Remember it’s okay to not be okay, and if you need help, please reach out to someone. You are worthy and you are loved. ❤️

Minors DNI 18+

The soft glow of the streetlamp cast long, dancing shadows across the living room as I stepped inside. A wave of relief washed over me as I saw Jensen's shoes neatly lined up by the door. But as I called his name, the silence that followed sent a chill down my spine.

“Jensen, honey I’m home. Are you here?” My voice echoed through the house. Mocking me with the quietness that followed.

I searched the house, my heart pounding in my chest. No Jensen. His phone went straight to voicemail, and calls to his friends and family yielded no answers. Hours ticked by, each one filled with growing dread.

I paced the living room, waiting for him to call or come home. My heart beat wildly in my chest. Every second the clock ticked my mind began to panic. Jensen always called, or answered his phone. Even when he was upset.

I called Jared again, “Jar, he’s still not home. I’m really worried about him. He seemed fine this morning when I left for work. He was going to stay home and work on his script. Did he call you at all today?”

“Yeah, he called me earlier and said he was going to the brewery later. He had some paperwork to sort out before selling it.”

“Okay, thank you Jared, if you hear from him, please call me.”

Hanging up I called the brewery number but there was no answer. I knew he was heartbroken about having to close the brewery, but it started to bleed money and he was already pouring so much into it. The location was mostly to blame.

Just as I was about to call the police, my phone rang. An unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, I answered. The voice on the other end was a raw, broken whisper. It was Jensen.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice trembling. "I'm so sorry."

My heart clenched, “Jensen, where are you baby? Please tell me and I’ll be there.”

His voice, barely above a whisper, “Brewery.”

Getting into my car, I rushed to find him, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and relief. When I arrived, I was met with a sight that tore at my soul. My strong, confident husband was curled up in a fetal position, tears streaming down his face, his body wracked with sobs.

I knelt beside him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding against my chest. Gently, I guided him through deep breaths, my voice soft and soothing. Slowly, the intensity of his panic began to subside.

As his tears began to fade, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with shame. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

"It's okay," I assured him, stroking his hair. "I'm here for you, always. You're not less of a man because of this."

Jensen nodded, his expression a mix of relief and vulnerability. "You're right," he said. "It makes me stronger."

“Yes, baby it does. Closing this place isn’t your fault either. Nobody thinks that.” I said as I ran my fingers through his hair.

Jensen’s voice still low, “I know, I’ve just never failed at anything in my life. I wanted this so bad. It’s been a dream for so long.”

Cupping his face in my hands I made his green eyes look at me, “Jensen Ross Ackles, you didn’t fail at this. We just need to find a location closer to the city. We’ve got this. I promise. This dream of yours will continue, it’s just on hold right now.”

He nodded and pressed his lips to mine. His lips trembled against mine.

His breathing finally leveled off and I knew the panic attack was subsiding. Standing up I reached for his hand. “Come on baby, let’s go home.”

Jensen nodded and stood. As Jensen walked to his truck, I climbed in. “What are you doing sweetheart?” He asked. “We are going home together. I can get my car tomorrow.” Nodding he put the car in drive and took your hand in his.

He rubbed circles on my hand as he held it. I knew this was his way to help ground himself. Giving his hand a little squeeze, told Jensen you were there for him.

“I love you sweetheart, thank you for always being there for me.” “I love you too, Jensen. I’ll always be there for you.”

That night, as we lay together, I held him close, feeling a deep sense of peace. Jensen knew, as I did, that he was safe with me. And in that moment, I realized that true strength wasn't about being invincible, but about acknowledging our weaknesses and finding the courage to face them together.

Tags are open, if you want to be added, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @glenpowellheart

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jackles #jensen ackles x reader

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alwaysonthemend · 10 months ago

Text

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! Here’s a little Josh fic for you all. Just as an aside, this fic follows the reader after she’s just gotten out of a past relationship that ended badly. I used gender neutral pronouns and words for her ex and Josh is also written as being queer in this fic. I wanted to make this as inclusive an experience as possible for my readers so that is why I chose to use gender neutral language for her ex-partner. And obviously, Josh has never given us a specific label for himself and so I didn’t want to assume anything about him by doing so myself but I do write that he’s had past relationships with both men and women – but I am in no way claiming to know his dating life or how he identifies. I hope you all enjoy and happy Valentine’s Day to each of you <3

Warnings: Smut (p in v sex, unprotected sex), oral (f. receiving), fingering, pleasuredom!Josh, discussions of infidelity (past relationship - not between reader and Josh), slight panic attack (nothing major), feelings of body insecurity, parties, drinking. 18 Only. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5k

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

Fuck them was all you really had left to say. In all honesty… there wasn’t much to say at this point. You’d given them 3 years of your life – 3 years spent crafting a future around a person who, in the end, hadn’t cared enough to do the same for you. You’d been with them for 3 whole years, had spent hours and hours of time with them, loved them at their best and their worst, comforted them when they needed it, been their shoulder to cry on, celebrated their achievements, and loved them with your whole heart for those entire 3 years. And how had they repaid you in the end? By climbing into bed with someone else. A quick fuck with a stranger that they met at a bar was apparently worth more than the 3 years that you had spent loving them the way that you had. It’s crazy how even after all that time you can still find out that you hardly even knew a person at all.

And now here you are the day before Valentine's Day eating ice cream and watching The Office reruns on your couch to try and keep from actually thinking about the hurt you have in your heart. You’ve cried all the tears you have and now you’re just left with a hollowness that you can’t seem to shake. There’s a hole in your heart where all that love for them used to be and now you’re stuck in this weird limbo between heartbroken and downright furious.

Ping!You glance down to where your phone screen has lit up with a text message. You pick it up and immediately sigh at the message that waits for you.

Danny 9:08 PM

Please tell me you’re still going to come to the party tomorrow night

You hadn’t been planning on it. You’d thought since the very moment that Josh had brought up the idea of a Valentine’s Day party that it was borderline ridiculous. But you had agreed to go simply because your partn- your ex had said that they wanted to go. But now that they weren’t in the picture anymore… the thought of going to a party where everyone is going to be hanging off the arms of their partners and, as Josh had put it, love is gonna be in the air! makes you want to scream. Hell no. Fuck no, even.

You 9:09 PM

Don’t think so. Not really in the Valentine’s Day mood to be honest.

It takes hardly even a minute before Danny answers you back.

Danny 9:10 PM

Totally fair

Danny 9:12 PM

There’s gonna be free booze tho… And you’ve gotta stop rotting away on your couch eventually

You pause for a moment before answering. He’s right to be completely honest. You’ve spent two weeks holed up in your apartment and wallowing in self-pity after your breakup. And honestly it’s starting to get a little old. But a Valentine’s Day party? You’re not sure that that is going to be the best break from your self-imposed lock down. But on the other hand… free booze does make the whole idea just a little bit more appealing. Plus, it’d be a great excuse to get dressed up and feel sexy for a night and have it be just for you and not for anyone else. And you haven’t actually gotten to see Danny and the rest of the guys a whole lot recently thanks to their busy schedules.

You sigh once again before texting Danny back in defeat.

You 9:15 PM

Fine

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

Any and all excitement that you had the night before is entirely gone by the time you step through the doorway of Josh’s incredibly color-coordinated home. You’d felt sexy in your outfit as you’d stepped out of your apartment but the loud music and even louder people make you want to turn heel and run in the opposite direction. But you’re here now so you figure you might as well enjoy the free booze. You’d taken an Uber tonight solely so that you can get as drunk as you want without having to worry about driving back to your apartment.

“Y/n!”

Danny comes bounding over to you, crushing you in a hug that steals your breath away. You squeeze him back and giggle softly.

“You smell like beer.” You scold him, wrinkling your nose in mock disgust.

Danny smiles and nudges your shoulder with his.

“And you don’t and that’s just not acceptable.”

With a comforting hand placed on your upper back, Danny leads you through the crowd of people into Josh’s kitchen where an array of bottles and stacks of red solo cups await you on the counter. And amidst it all, pouring himself another drink, is the host of this over-the-top Valentine’s Day party. He grins at you as you and Danny enter and you can’t help but to smile back.

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it out tonight!” Josh starts, throwing back a shot before turning his body to face the two of you fully.

You shrug and jab your thumb towards Danny who laughs lightly.

“I’m persuasive.” Is the only bit of explanation he gives.

“And annoying.” You mutter playfully as you walk over to the counter to survey the various choices in alcohol that lay before you. “Watcha makin?”

Josh’s attention drops back down to the drink that he’d been in the middle of pouring when you’d walked in.

“Tequila Sunrise.” He holds up the glass for you to see and you’re impressed with how nice the drink looks. “I’m no bartender but…”

You shake your head, eyeing the beautifully balanced red and orange colors in the glass.

“Nonsense. You know you’re good at mixing drinks. That looks great.”

A pink blush dusts the apples of his cheeks (the color of them making the white dots of his makeup stand out even more) and even the tips of his ears turn a shade darker at your compliment.

“I think you should try a sip before you praise me too much.” He extends his hand and holds the glass out to you. “For you. And if it sucks… Jake is the one who told me how to make it so blame him.”

You take the glass and sip the drink, closing your eyes and humming at the taste. Josh is watching you intently and you wonder briefly if he’s always been so damn attractive.

“And if it’s really good?” You question, taking another sip.

He puffs out his chest and grins.

“Why then it’s all me, of course.”

You can only shake your head at him but a smile spreads across your lips despite yourself.

“It’s really good, Josh. You have my stamp of approval.”

Your eyes meet Josh’s and those brown eyes of his glint with something that you can’t quite name before it’s gone in a flash. You drop your gaze to the drink in your hand and Josh looks towards Danny.

“Daniel, care for a drink?”

–

You’d spent the last hour or two milling about throughout the house, saying hi to friends and occasionally bumping into Josh who always smiles warmly at you in passing as he busies himself with being a cordial host.

And you’d had perhaps one too many drinks and the room is starting to spin by the time you collapse onto a sofa to take a breather. Danny had stuck by your side for a while before his date had arrived, at which point you’d latched yourself onto Sam until he decided to leave early with a girl he met. You’d gone searching for Jake but he’d been nowhere to be found. Likely, he’s already gone home. He’s never one to stick around at social gatherings this big for too long.

You try not to but your heart aches slightly that you’d been abandoned by Sam and Danny. You know that ‘abandoned’ is a strong word but… they knew you were freshly single and hurting. You had hoped that they would have been more willing to spend just a little extra time with you tonight. In fact, the longer you think about it, the more your hurt feelings begin to grow. You’re not angry with them. Not all. If you’re being honest with yourself, you envy them. They both had someone to spend the night with tonight. Jake, too.

You glance around and suddenly all you can see is other people with their partners. Holding hands, laughing, touching, kissing. Your breathing picks up. Does everyone here but you have someone? It sure freaking feels like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol making you have such a strong reaction but you’re suddenly desperate to get out of here. You need to get out of this place. You stand, the abrupt movement causing your head to spin a bit but you ignore it in favor of trying to find an escape. As you make your way through the throng of people it’s like navigating through a sea made of nothing but smiles and kisses that aren’t for you. Your eyes scan frantically until at last… there! The door to the back porch.

You push your way to it and open the door quickly and slam it shut behind you as you escape out onto Josh’s back porch. You pause there, bowing your head and taking a moment to try and steady your breathing. Your throat burns with unshed tears but you swallow them down – you refuse to shed any more tears over the person who treated you so horribly. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

“Y/n?”

The sound of your name makes you jump and your eyes snap open to find Josh leaning against the bannister, his head turned back to look at you.

“Hi.” You answer him, willing your voice to sound more composed than you feel. “I didn’t see you out here.”

He smiles and beckons you over to him with a lazy wave.

“Just taking a break for a moment.” His voice carries a warmth that you hadn’t realized you needed as you come to lean on the bannister beside him. “You okay?” He keeps his face purposefully neutral but you can see the concern swirling in his eyes.

“Yeah. Just got a little overwhelming in there.”

He nods, the motion making an errant curl settle onto his forehead. Your hand itches to reach up and swipe it back into place.

“No Alex tonight?”

It’s an innocent question but your ex’s name sends your heart breaking all over again. You’re not even sure why you’re still so upset. Clearly they didn’t love you the way you had loved them and you want to say that you’ve moved on but…

“No. We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh.” Josh breathes out, his features melting into a look of pure sympathy. It makes you want to cry even more. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug.

“It’s okay, really. They fucked a stranger in our own bed so… I’d say it’s a good thing that we broke things off.”

Josh winces at the bitterness in your tone and looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m still so upset. It’s not like I love them anymore. Not really.” The alcohol in your systems seems to have loosened your tongue as you begin speaking again despite having no intentions of wanting to talk about them at all tonight.

“Anyone would be upset, Y/n. Alex betrayed your trust. Regardless of how you feel about them now… it’s still painful. That’s normal.”

You huff.

“It’s stupid. Stupid and tiring and-” You stop yourself and swallow thickly. “Sorry.”

Josh smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes all the way but it’s genuine.

“Don’t be. Trust me, I know how you feel. Once that trust is broken… it’s like you’re afraid you’ll never get it back again. With anyone.”

You turn to look at him but his face is pointed back out to the yard. As willing as Josh is to discuss matters like this with others, his own relationships he’s always been private about. He’s had a few relationships that you know of in the years that you’ve known him – some men, some women. You’d met only a handful of them in person but he’d never seemed to allow anyone in your little circle to actually get to know them other than Jake. You had no idea that maybe he’s gone through something similar.

“Sometimes I just… It feels like I’m never going to find my person. And all this-” You gesture towards the door and the Valentine’s Day festivities that lay beyond it, “just didn’t really help at all. It feels like everyone has someone but me.”

A warm, steadying hand lands on your shoulder and you swear that a tingle runs up the length of your spine at the touch. Josh’s eyes glitter in the light of the night sky and the porch light casts shadows across his sharp jawline. And as you look at him, it feels like you’re seeing him, really seeing him for the first time. And he’s beautiful.

“You’ll find your person, Y/n. I know you will. You’re too nice of a person to not.”

You can feel your cheeks grow hot.

“Thank you, Josh. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He grins, dropping his hand from your shoulder at last. “That’s what friends are for, right? Helping each other out when we’re down?”

For some reason, his words make you pause. You and Josh have been friends for so long and you’d only ever seen him as a friend. But now, standing next to him and thinking back to all the years of kindness and laughter that he’s given you… you’re struck suddenly with the thought that maybe you don’t just want to be friends with him. You’ve always been able to acknowledge that he’s attractive. And he makes you laugh like no one else can. Always there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on. Hell, he’s been one of the only constants in your ever-changing life. And he’s-

You shake your head at yourself. He’s just a friend. He’d just said so himself.

“I wish more people were like you, Josh.” You find yourself saying softly. “You’re one of the good ones.”

He blushes – the apples of his cheeks flushing a dark red that reaches all the way down his neck too. Has he always blushed this much around you? First earlier when you’d complimented his drink making and now… Surely not. Right?

“You just have to be patient.” He tilts his head and grins, nudging your shoulder playfully with his. “And hey, if you can’t find someone else you can always give dating me a try.”

You don’t mean to but you laugh, perhaps a little harder than you should have. The idea has your heart pounding in your chest and you desperately don’t want him to see how much the joke affected you. A desperate wish that bleeds into regret as you watch the light in his eyes dim ever so slightly as you laugh.

You want to take it back. You want to tell him that maybe you’ve been blind this whole time and not seen what was right in front of you. But he only smiles tightly and straightens himself, popping his back and rolling his neck before beginning to turn away.

“I suppose I should get back inside. I’m being a terrible host by hiding out here.”

With that, he turns on his heel to begin walking back inside but his name explodes past your lips before you can stop it.

“Yeah?”

The hope in his voice makes your stomach drop.

“I-” You don’t know. You don’t know what to say. You don’t even know if these feelings are real. Have they been here this whole time, hiding under the surface? Or did it take you getting heartbroken by someone else to see the kindness that he’s been offering for years? There’s so many questions swirling through your head and you can’t seem to even form a full thought. Defeatedly, you shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you later.”

Josh stares at you for a long, tense moment before nodding his head.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

You turn away before you see him leave but the sound of the back door shutting makes you wince. Should you have told him how you feel? Hell, you don’t understand how you’re feeling so you don’t even know what you would have told him anyway.

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just made a mistake. You’ve spent years desperately wishing for true love. Dates with people had come and gone and Alex had just been the first person who seemed to want the same from a relationship as you. No one had expected you to date them. No one had expected the two of you to last as long as you did. And honestly? You hadn’t expected it either. Alex was… comfortable. Safe.

You’d been so caught up, so desperate to find love… and maybe it’s been right in front of you all along. He has been right in front of you. And you just let him walk away.

Frantically, you whirl around to go and find him but stop short at the sight of Josh shoving the door open and coming back outside. He looks frenzied but determined as he strides over to you. You’re frozen in place, but with each step that he takes you grow more and more certain about the warmth spreading through your chest. Yes, he really had been right here all along.

Josh stops. He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath.

“Y/n.” His voice is soft – quiet but just as determined as his steps had been. “I couldn’t- I had to come back. I couldn’t not tell you.” He rambles, his dark eyes pinning you in place before him. “I know we’re just friends and- and I know that you don’t-”

“Josh,” you interrupt, “I love you too.”

“What?”

He’s utterly still, jaw dropped open and eyes gaping at you. If your heart wasn’t pounding so hard you think you might laugh at the sight of Josh Kiszka rendered speechless.

“I said I love you too. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before… but I do, Josh.”

His mouth remains open for a long moment and you think for one brief, horrible second that you’ve made a mistake and he doesn’t feel the same. But then his lips spread into a wide smile that makes your heart melt.

“You- you love me?”

You nod.

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner.”

He huffs, the noise a mix between a sigh and a laugh before he takes a step even closer, his lips hovering just above yours. He pauses there, waiting. You give him a slight nod and then his lips are on yours – soft and pillowy and oh so warm against your own. With a soft whine, your hands find perchance on his shoulders while his palms settle on your cheeks, thumbs caressing your cheek bones. The heat of him is delicious and you use your grip on his shoulders to pull him in closer to you. He answers with a breathy moan into your mouth that sends liquid fire pooling between your legs.

“Y/n.” Your name escapes him with a sigh, his lips parting from yours for a moment to breathe. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, lips ghosting over his once again, just barely touching. “Just of kissing me?”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head, curls bouncing.

“Much more than that.”

“Show me?”

Josh answers you with a Cheshire grin and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the party still going on inside.

“Think they’ll notice that I’m gone?”

“We can be quick.”

He shakes his head and grins but laces his fingers with yours and begins to tug you towards the door.

“No. We won’t.”

“You can’t just leave.” You start to protest but Josh silences you with a grin.

“They’ll take the hint and leave eventually. We’ll worry about cleaning up tomorrow.”

–

You barely notice the people as Josh leads you through them and none of them seem to notice the two of you as you both slip up the stairs. It feels like a dream as he tugs you through the threshold of his bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a soft ‘click.’

“So many dreams and so little time.” He murmurs, hands finding your hips and guiding you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the bed.

Josh kisses you again before pulling back and letting the moment hold for a moment. You take in your surroundings. The soft, white bed sheets. The warm glow of the lamp in the corner and the smell of incense. The room screams Josh – cluttered but organized, comfy.

“But enough time,” Josh continues, palms sweeping down your sides, “that we can do as much or as little as you want tonight.”

Josh is selfless in everything else that he does and you can’t help but smile knowing that he's selfless in here too.

“I want you.” Is all your brain can manage to come up with.

But it does the trick given the way Josh’s eyes glitter with mischief as his fingers dance across your shoulders and hook underneath the straps of your dress.

“Can I take this off?”

You nod and he slides the fabric down, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving your bra and panties on display for him. You’d gone with black lace and based on the groan that rumbles in his chest, it was the right choice. Before undressing you further, Josh tugs his own shirt up and over his head and tosses it haphazardly to the floor. His khakis are next and you exhale shakily as you take in his smooth, creamy skin. His body is lithe and toned, muscles defined but still slim. There’s something effortlessly graceful about his body and you reach out a hand to feel him, a palm settling on his pec and the other hand grabbing his waist and squeezing.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” His words come out husky and a little gruff and your core pulses. “Bra off then on the bed.”

You comply, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor before jumping up and scrambling backwards until your back hits the wall of plush pillows guarding the head board. He follows you, climbing onto the bed and settling onto his knees between your thighs. Chocolate eyes sweep up to yours, somehow filled with an almost innocence despite what the two of you are about to do.

“Can I taste you, Y/n?” He pleas– and it is a plea.

You want to nod. To let him use that pretty mouth on you for as long as he pleases. But years of insecurity – insecurity that’s only been made worse after recent events, bubbles to the surface.

“I- I didn’t shave. You don’t have to.” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate that you feel like this. You hate how every single cell in your body wants to close your thighs and hide from him despite the love that you see swirling through his eyes.

“I want to.” Josh answers, warm hands finding purchase on your thighs. “And I don’t care about whether or not you shaved, Y/n. It’s your body that you’re choosing to share with me.” His thumbs trace small, soothing circles into your skin. “But if you don’t feel comfortable that’s okay too.”

You take a deep breath. You let all those insecurities that have welled up recently come to the forefront of your mind. You let yourself feel each one. And then you let them go.

“Y-you can. You can taste me.”

Josh smiles softly, the weight of your trust not lost on him as he leans down and slides your panties down your legs. Already soaked, Josh hums at the sight.

“Stunning.” He says, swiping a finger through your folds and earning a cry from between your lips.

Hooking his arms beneath your thighs and dropping his body to lay against the mattress, Josh pulls your glistening center flush against him and sucks your clit into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the swollen bud and your hips buck up to meet the feeling.

“Oh fuck.” You whine, eyes shut tightly against the onslaught of pleasure.

His tongue works over you effortlessly, switching between circling around your clit and slipping into your entrance. The sound is obscene. Your wetness coupled with the way Josh moans into your heat has the band of pleasure in your lower belly beginning to tighten already. It’s like he somehow knows exactly what you like the most – effortlessly coaxing you to the edge. He’s groaning into you, head thrashing from side to side and his own hips pushing down into the bed.

“Josh.” You warn, your body beginning to tense as the white hot pleasure keeps building.

“Cum in my mouth, mama. I need it.”

With one last lick of his tongue against you the wave breaks. With a loud cry, you let the pleasure overtake you and Josh keeps working you through it, making sure to give you the most pleasure he can as your orgasm works its way through you.

Finally, he sits up and wipes his mouth against the back of his hand.

“How was that?”

It’s an innocent question but the cocky grin he’s sporting lets you know that he knows exactly how good it was.

“Fuck.” Is all you manage to say and Josh giggles.

“Eloquent.”

Josh sits up and you can see his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers, his flushed tip trapped underneath the waistband. Even covered you can see that he’s big. You’d always known that he was – his jumpsuits leave little to the imagination. But seeing it like this, hard and leaking for you, makes your breath stutter in your chest. You reach out to feel him but he stops you, shaking his head and grinning.

“Not done yet.” Is all he says before his fingers find your wet folds again.

Slowly, he presses a finger in and you whine, legs falling apart wider as he curls the digit. He’s watching you intently, noting every shift of your hips and every change in expression as he explores your body, finding what makes you tick. His finger brushes against your sweet spot and you cry out his name.

“Oh fuck, Josh. Right there.”

He grins.

“There it is.”

He adds another finger, scissoring them to stretch you but making sure to brush that spot over and over again as he does so. You’re a whining mess beneath him, embarrassingly close to cumming again already. No one has ever paid attention like this – actually taking the time to learn your body and its responses in order to maximize your pleasure. Maybe it's that thought that has you about to reach climax again.

“You gonna cum on my fingers, Y/n?”

You nod your head, unable to form words as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Yeah? I can feel you squeezing them, baby. You can cum, angel. Just let it go.”

Your body trembles and shakes all over as you cum and Josh moans in delight at the sight of you surrendering to pleasure, at the sight of the pleasure that he is giving you. This one lasts longer than the last and Josh works you through every second of it until you're panting and shying away from the touch as the oversensitivity hits you.

“Good?” He murmurs, eyes practically black as they stare at you.

“Very, very good.” You answer with a lazy, satiated smile. “Are you going to fuck me now?”

Josh’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and your eyes track the movement. You want him. You want him so bad it aches.

“Only if you want me to. We don’t have to do anything else tonight.”

Of course he didn’t expect more from you. And you’re 100% certain that if you asked him to, he’d lay down and go to bed with you right now despite how hard his aching member must be. But you don’t want that. You want him. All of him.

“I want you to, Josh. I need you to fuck me.”

A soft, delicate little whine escapes him.

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, he reaches over to his night stand and opens a drawer. His hand disappears inside it before reappearing with a condom in hand. He palms himself once with his right hand through his boxers before hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging them down.

You never knew that a cock could be so fucking pretty.

He rips the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex over his length, hissing as he does so.

You let your legs fall apart and beckon him to you. With dark eyes, Josh pumps his length in his hand once, twice, before he guides himself into your soaked entrance. He’s big, the stretch causing a delicious mix of pleasure bordering on pain. He moans as he bottoms out and your hands latch onto his shoulders and your fingertips dig into the muscle.

“Fuck, you feel good.” You moan, already aching for him to move.

“And you feel like satin, angel. So fuckin’ tight.”

Slowly, Josh pulls almost all the way out of you before sliding back in again. His arms come to rest on either side of your head, his weight resting on his forearms. With each snap of his hips you can’t help but moan. Every movement, every inch of him, sends sparks of pleasure through your entire body. Sex with Alex had been rough – frenzied and almost mindless. But this? This is worship.

“Don’t stop.” You beg, heels digging into his hips to keep him close.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice sounds wrecked – cracked and broken with his own pleasure.

“You’re so good.” You find yourself mumbling, eyes squeezing shut. “So fucking good, Josh.”

You can feel his length twitch and pulse inside of you as soon as the words leave your mouth. He likes knowing that he’s making you feel good.

“Wanna make you cum, mama. Wanna make you feel good.” He whines, jaw dropping open and face contorting in pleasured agony.

You nod your head frantically, tits bouncing as he picks up his pace.

“Feels so good. Oh fuck!” Your own voice sounds foreign to you – high pitched and almost squeaky. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“Please cum, baby. Cum on my cock. I need to feel it.”

His right hand slips into the heated space between your bodies and his finger finds your clit, ruthlessly swirling the pad of his finger in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, Josh. Please, please, please.”

“You don’t have to beg, baby.” He grits out, his pace beginning to falter as your walls clench mercilessly around him. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna get you there.”

It hardly takes a minute more before the band snaps. With a harsh scream, your orgasm rips through you. Stars explode behind your eyes and any thoughts that you had have been ripped from you. All you can focus on is the pleasure as Josh keeps fucking you through your high. The only words you can think of fall from your lips in a breathy whine.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Josh cries out harshly, his own body tensing as he finally lets himself reach his own climax.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming. Y/n.” His words are almost a growl, rumbling from deep within his chest as his orgasm hits him fully. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much.”

With one last thrust of his hips the two of you finally settle, Josh’s weight coming down to pin you to the mattress as you both come back to yourselves. He doesn’t pull out, allowing the intimacy of the moment to stretch on.

“My God.” You mumble, your throat feeling raw from screaming.

Josh leans down to capture your lips with his, his tongue exploring your mouth lazily for a moment before he draws back.

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I would have waited even longer so long as I got to have you in the end.”

You pull him down to kiss him again.

“You have me.”

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

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uglypastels · 1 year ago

Text

Not Wholly Evil |VII| pirate!Eddie au

a/n - ok, so first of all, i cannot thank everyone enough for the support on this fic. i am just in awe at the love its been getting recently. so i think it times out perfectly that this chapter is the one i have been the most excited to write and had been waiting to write since probably chapter 3 or something. I really hope you like it. Be sure to reblog and/or comment (and remember asks are also always welcome!)💗

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.4k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 7: Four Corners of Heaven

“The heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths it has its pearls too."

- Vincent van Gogh

The ship swayed from side to side, taking you along with it, stumbling from one leg onto the other as you struggled to find your balance. Wardrobe doors flung open, banging against their hinges. Papers flew all over the ground as the desk shifted from its secured position.

A banging noise sank deep into you, pulling you back to the Red Tail. The panic lasted until you realised you heard waves crashing against the window. How tall would they have to be to reach the glass? How strong to be able to open the hinges?

It smashed against the wall, nearly cracking, but the damage was still done as water spilt inside with vicious attacks. Cursing, you made your way over, trying to close it before the entire floor would be under water. The spurts hit you in your face, shoving it down your throat. The icy feeling froze your skin as the heavy salt taste burned your tongue. By the time you closed the window, you had been drenched. You heaved for air, bend over with your arms on your knees.

There was shouting outside the room. Incoherent behind the wood and rain layers, but the sense of emergency remained.

You let yourself fall to the ground, back against the wall. All the commotion was now accompanied by your heartbeat drumming in your ears. When you calmed down, you realised you had still been holding the letter, scrunched into a wet roll between your fist, the water dripping off it came down in dark grey tears. Quickly, you dropped it into one of the desk's drawers and shut it.

The ship also began to halt its tilt, regaining its composure, and so slowly, your anxiety faded. It allowed you to think; look around. Two longswords were hanging up on the wall, so you grabbed one and did your best to block the mechanics that opened the window. It should hold the water for some time, but you could only hope. You ignored the metal's clanking sound against the glass as the force pushed against it.

As more shouting erupted from outside, the smaller the room felt. Suddenly you were back on the Red Tail, under the desk, hiding from these men. That was how it had all started, wasn’t it? They hid you away to keep you safe… and yet. The walls closed in on you. The water seemed to rise, but only in your mind, drowning in helplessness.

If something did happen to this ship, you thought you would die either way, and you might not know many things, but one thing was certain: you would not die in Munson’s cabin.

When you walked out of the room the past days, you were greeted with plush warm air, as if you had fallen gently atop a pillow. Now, it was more like a hard fall. The wind slapped your entire body, and the harsh rain cut at your cheeks. Each step felt as if you had been anchored to the ground.

All around you was chaos. Water was everywhere. Rain poured harshly, a million icy bullets coming down your skin, soaking through your clothes. The waves reached a height as you had never seen, coming in closer by the second, threatening to spill over the railings. Some already did, drowning the wooden panelling of the deck, leaving nothing untouched as barrels rolled around. Crew members ran behind them, with meters of ropes, hoping to steady the load, but it was in poor attempts when their feet could barely remain steady. Munson threw around commands, but in these circumstances, his beloved ship had a mind of her own, and it was protesting her captain.

The rest, in the meantime, did their best to keep up with what the captain had to say. Pulling the sails, ensuring a hold on all the loose cargo on the deck from slipping away. With buckets, they threw out water that splashed onto the ship, but with each wave, the amount only doubled. The men stumbled over themselves, knocking eachother over as the boat swayed immensely.

You heard your name being called from the side and saw Harrington at the helm. Seeing him in the rain, you could not help but think of a dog. How the animals shrink in size when met with water, shaking and whimpering, just wanting to escape the cold. All of them, in fact, everyone around you, reminded you of it. They were all simply fighting for their life against the elements.

Harrington looked at you sternly, and you could tell what he was saying with his expression alone. Go inside. But you stared blankly back, with no intention of listening.

That is when the wind picked up, pushing the ship off course. The helm began spinning in circles, and Harrington held onto its spurs for dear life, turning it back with all his remaining power. You could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. His grip kept slipping. He cursed loudly, but there was no one there to help. No one except you. It took you one quick glance to realise it, and once that occurred, you immediately stepped up to him and pulled at the spurs.

Harrington looked taken aback, for a second forgetting the task at hand, and that one second had been enough for him to fall back a few steps and the helm to begin to unfold again, resulting in another loud curse.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Helping you!’ you called out; both of you were sputtering as the water of both sea and sky engulfed you.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He yelled out moments before another wave hit the vessel's side, and he got knocked off his feet. For a brief moment, until he had regained his stance, you were the only one holding the helm. The weight of the entire ship fell upon you for those brief seconds, which was overwhelming. It was too much, too heavy. You couldn’t carry on on your own.

Harrington coughed out as he regained a grip on the wheel. He glanced at you with another expression of displeasure at your presence, but there was no longer time for him to argue. You could barely hold the wheel together. Your feet were slipping on the wet floor.

‘Pull!’ he shouted almost directly into your ear, but he could have been miles away with the thunder roaring over your heads.

‘I am!’ you shouted right back, but clearly, it was not enough.

‘Pull harder than!’

I can’t, you wanted to shout back, but that would have been worthless. You were putting in every inch of power you had left in this, yet it would still take much more for the ship to cooperate. By the time you released the helm with certainty, your arms were burning with exhaustion, and your skin was numb from the thousands of pinpricks of the harsh downpour.

Not that this mattered much. The rest of the ship was still in turmoil. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought a mist had set in from how dense the water came down, covering everything in a grey mass. The wind blew you back three steps for each that you attempted to make.

You were both breathing heavily, which was hard as it was combined with trying not to swallow the loads of water that came down upon you with each breath you took. Was there even air to breathe at this point? Or had you already sunk into the ocean? Everything felt on top of its head, spinning around. You barely heard what Harrington said as you pulled yourself out of the nausea.

‘What?’ you asked, shouting everything out to come out above the noise.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. Now, what was he apologising for? And why now, as the storm was only growing stronger, it seemed. The two of you still stood side by side at the helm, holding it tightly, but now more for your own sake, anchoring yourself from the wind. Across the ship, you saw the rest of the crew battling with the weather. Munson had stopped shouting out commands and was part of a group trying to keep the mizzenmast up. He had discarded his jacket somewhere along the way, leaving him to let the water soak into his shirt, which stuck to him meticulously.

‘That are you apologising for,’ you turned quickly to Harrington. Facing his direction only caused the rain to directly attack your face.

‘For listening to him,’ he shouted. As the storm raged on, you doubted anyone could hear the two of you anymore, no matter how loud you spoke. ‘I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, it was stupid.’

‘But why—why did he tell you to do that?’

To your surprise, Harrington laughed. ‘I’ve realised long ago it is better not to understand how his mind works.’

You wanted to reply that, no, you did want to understand exactly how his mind worked because it was making you insane when suddenly, a crash sounded over the vessel. All heads turned to starboard, where something must have just crashed bast the railing beams. A large whole gaped at the rest of you; a crate had already fallen out, but it was the least of your worries as you saw an arm hanging on for dear life from one of the broken wood beams.

Munson was the first person to reach the crewman in peril. He reached for him just in time as the man’s grip slipped off the wood. The captain lay flat on his stomach across the deck. Some more men reached him and tried to pull him in, but the ship shifted again on the waves; nothing was in their favour.

‘Harrington!’ the captain yelled, but when his voice reached you, it was less than a murmur against the wind. ‘HARRINGTON!’ He looked over toward the helm, and that is when he noticed you.

You didn’t give him the same amount of attention, for you had a better view of everything around. You could see the stack of men that had now gathered at the broken ship’s side, pulling their mate back to safety, but you also saw the barrel that was lopsiding, threatening to fall over with each hit of the waves. They must have missed it when securing everything in haste. From its position, it seemed that if it would topple over, the barrel would roll directly into the panicked rescue operation.

Harrington, who had been trying to steer the ship as best as he could in the circumstances, must have seen it too, as you had only taken a step to the side, and he had already grabbed your arm.

‘Let go off me, or I will give you another black eye!’ You threatened.

‘Have you gone mad!’ He shouted over the yelling below you.

‘Yes!’ You couldn’t help but smile and possibly not even far from any truth. The last few weeks were maddening in every possible way. Whatever had or would have happened, there was no denying that you had changed, and the most evident proof was right there as you ran down the stairs in an attempt to save the men that you had thought would lead you to your death. Just as you thought you had reached it in time, the barrel tipped over entirely, hitting the ground and immediately started to roll. It rolled in your direction, the only obstruction in its way.

Without thinking, you let yourself crush against it, shoulder to wood. The pain was intense but passed quickly, and though you had let your feet slip and there was nothing to mask the fall, you had still managed to stop the large piece of refuse from hurting the others.

You could see them pulling the fallen crewmate back onto the deck when you got up. Shuffling through your memories of what you had encountered and heard the past few days, his name didn’t come up, and yet you felt a huge relief fall off you.

‘You’re welcome!’ you said, tired and feeling heavy.

Someone helped Munson get up. His hair was stuck all over his face, but when he brushed it aside, you saw his face—full of anger. He stormed over to you or tried to, considering how the ship had thrown him off-balance.

‘What should I be thanking you for?’ He spat out, primarily due to all the rain that had soaked into him.

‘For saving your life!’ You had not expected him to be thankful, that was not who Munson was, but you had not imagined him to be angry. Yet, his eyes were rageful, his jaw tense as he looked at you silently and turned to his men to yell out:

‘Someone secure that damn wall.’

Aye. There were already three men on it, trying to block the wrecked piece of the ship. Any proper reparations would have to wait until the storm had run its course. There was no way for them to sit there with the waves splashing into their faces at such speed and force and nowhere to stand without a risk of falling.

The captain turned back to you. ‘I told you to stay inside.’

‘If I had, you would have been in the water now!’ You shouted back, ‘clearly, you need as many hands on deck as possible.’

‘Not yours.’ He wiped his face off from the rain, but it poured over him with even more strength. ‘Go back to my quarters. Now.’

‘No.’ You stood your ground, pushing back against Munson’s and the wind’s will. You would not let yourself be stowed away. He could not take this away from you. He could not take you away. You wouldn’t let him. Not again.

‘That is an order.’ He snapped.

‘I do not take orders from you.' You may not have been much help, but you had already kept Harrington from losing complete control over the helm and practically saved the captain from falling into the ocean's depths. Still, it was not enough to convince the captain, as his reply was clear and straightforward, despite all the noise that muffled your voices from eachother.

‘You’ll die out here!’ A wave pushed you forward, stumbling into his chest. He held you up by your wrist before you both fell.

‘So will you!’ You looked him in the eyes, pleading. Unsure for what. Something. Anything.

For a moment, you thought you had won him over, but then he looked around, shouting out names of his crewmen, anyone who could hear him or get close enough to you. But they were all too occupied. Finally, one of the coopers, who was already tying up the barrel you had so swiftly taken care of with the rest of the cargo, ran up at the sound of his name.

‘Take care of her before I do,’ Munson told him. The boy—as he seemed younger than most men on this ship—nodded, but you saw in his face he had nothing over you. Before he could reach for you, you pushed past him towards the captain.

‘I’m not leaving you.’ Perhaps that were not the words you had meant to say. Maybe you simply wanted to say that you were not about to leave this deck, but those were the words to come out of your mouth.

As a response, he asked the same question that crossed your mind as soon as those words had left your mouth. ‘Why?’

‘Because–’ but before you could answer, a pair of arms grabbed you and pulled you away. You screamed out, demanding to be let go, but it was all washed out in the storm. It couldn’t have been the boyish cooper that had taken you; his hold was too firm and strong. Whoever they were, they dragged you back toward the cabin on the captain's orders, towards alleged safety. What would happen if they opened the door to reveal a waterfall streaming past their feet because those bloody windows broke open once more? What then?

But you felt a pinch of pride in your heart because you knew that some days ago, you would not have dared to stand up to the captain with such defiance. You certainly would not have dared to kick and scratch at the man holding you until he let you go. You would have been shoved into that room and locked away, and maybe it would have been for the better because just moments after you freed yourself, you locked eyes with Munson. He was ready to speak, yell, and so were you, but all of that was washed out by a wave. One larger than you had ever seen before. It towered over the ship, dampening everything in its shadow. And then it crashed down. You had just about managed to take one final breath and heard a scream of your name.

There was a push, and something hit your head, or was it your head that hit something. Either way—

Everything went black.

That must be what death feels like. Floating, weightlessly numb. There is darkness, and then there is light. It grows and grows, overcoming the chasm and suddenly, all the pain from before is gone.

It is disorienting at first as you try to understand where you are. It all feels familiar and yet impossible at the same time. You do not know how you got there but know the way perfectly well. You remember it all exactly—that day—like no time had ever passed. It must have been years ago. Long before the wreckage and the fire and the storm and chaos. Long before him. And yet…

As you come to, but not exactly, you hear the mewing of seagulls. A flock hovers over your head. The sun shines brightly. As you move your hand, blades of grass tickle your fingertips and that smell… the sweet scent of summer.

There’s a weight on your stomach. A book. You had been reading it for hours under the tree. The large lime tree in the garden, but to call it a garden is an understatement. The branches rock gently in the breeze, shaking their leaves in a greeting.

You sit up, letting your back rest against the tree bark. In the distance are voices, children playing, merchants selling their produce, and animals roaming freely over the streets like any other day.

Then you hear it.

‘Gentlemen, I think we have an agreement then,’ your father says as he emerges from a corridor. You want to jump into his arms, tears already welling up in the corner of your eyes, but that is not how that day had gone.

Besides, he has company.

‘Yes, sir,’ a second man replies. ‘The troops are all ready to go.’

‘Brilliant,’ your father says. None of them have realised that you were sat there yet, able to hear every word they said. If they had, they would have sent you away. Not because any of their matters are private or a secret, it is just some light conversation between commanders. They would have sent you away because you, as a lady, have no reason to be bothered by such topics.

You dare to peek a glance at the men accompanying your father. Like all the others before, they must be some kind of officer; their appearance told you as much. You had seen plenty of these types of men. Your father often invited those who harboured their ships in town. No matter where they were from. Although, they seemed to be wearing similar colours to what the soldiers around your house wore.

You didn’t know either of the two men’s names that day. Why would you? It was the first time you had seen them in a lifetime full of new faces. And it would be several years until you would see them again. Years that would barely change admiral Carver’s appearance. He had maintained his boyish young looks until the day he died.

By now, you knew you had fallen deep into a dream, but how much of it was fantasy? It felt like a memory, but why were you haunted by demons? Maybe it was your brain filling in gaps, playing tricks on you, covering up a face you had entirely erased from your memory by one you could never forget. That did not seem right, however. The pieces fell too perfectly into place. Just not in any way, you had expected them to.

It was a trick. It must be. That was, could, not him, after all. His hair was neatly tied back and much shorter, to begin with. Though mostly covered with the shadow of his brimmed hat, his face was fuller, happier, and clean-shaven. His fingers were clean, and light without the weight of those large silver rings, and his clothes were the pristine uniform of the navy, which could not possibly hide a lifetime of scars and tattoos underneath them. It simply could not be.

And yet, when he catches your eye, that same pair of warm brown eyes catch you off guard. He smiles your way, tipping his hat, saying ‘ma’am’ with a smile before catching up to the rest of his entourage.

You awoke in a sheen of cold sweat, but it might have been the storm's remnants. The gentle feeling of grass blades against your fingers was exchanged into a harch grip on the bedsheets you lay upon. The only thing you could hear was your breathing, but behind that was the tap-tap-tapping of rain against the window. That’s where he stood, leaning against the glass by his side, arms crossed as he looked at you. No expression that you could make out in any sense, not because of the lack thereof, but because the emotions came in abundance.

‘What happened?’ Speaking felt like you had inhaled a bucket of sand instead of water; your throat had wholly dried out.

‘What do you remember?’ the captain walked over to the bed with a cup of water to hand you, which you took with a shaky hand.

‘Everything… I think.’ One sip had been enough to heal your drought. ‘There was a storm and a wave—’

‘Nearly washed us out,’ Munson filled in the gaps. His voice was steady, emotionless. Somehow, that felt worse than if he had been angry. He was holding back on you. ‘You hit your head and been asleep—we assumed you were sleeping—for six hours. More or less.’ But the longer he kept on talking, the more of a shake you felt in him. How he was holding back the rage that had exploded out of the both of you during the storm.

He continued talking. ‘We should be arriving at the harbour of Saint Claire shortly.’

‘I don’t understand,’ you let your fingers ghost over your forehead, which was wrapped in bandages, and a flash of pain blinded you momentarily.

‘It’s a small island, not far off course. Safer for the night than the waters.’ The storm had calmed down but had not found its rest just yet.

‘No, I don’t mean that,’ you said, standing up.

‘Don’t get up,’ He tried to push you back but decided against making contact, which you took as an opportunity to defy his wishes.

‘Do not tell me what to do, Munson.’ You were tired of it, and his constant commands made you sick…. Or was it the dizziness you felt as you got up too fast? Munson caught you just in time before you would hit your head again. Only then you realised that his shirt was still wet. It stuck to you like it stuck to him. His hair was a mess too. He must have come out of the rain moments ago.

He set you back up on your feet just to bring you back onto the bed. Once your head stopped spinning, you weakly asked: ‘Is everyone okay?’

‘You seem to have gotten the worst of it.’

‘Of course,’ you laughed at your own fortune. ‘Look,’ you made a second attempt to get up, hitting the last of the captain’s nerves.

‘Why won’t you ever listen?’ He grunted as he held you up.

‘Because I don’t want to.’ You swatted away his hands, letting go of him entirely. ‘Will you stop that!’

‘Stop what?’

‘Pretending like you give a damn about me while we both know that I am not worth a dime of your time..’

He sighed, pivoting your tangent.

‘No, sorry, you have your bounty to look forward to, of course, but don’t worry, I will personally write a letter to my father to tell him to just give you all his money, no matter in what state I return home if you will just leave me alone!’

‘Will you please stop yelling.’ He had his head rolled back, looking up at the ceiling. His fists clenched, and he walked around the room to calm down.

‘No! I am tired of this. All of this. I am tired of being treated like vermin.’

‘Vermin?’ He scoffed this time, turning his head to you in disbelief. ‘I’ve given you my clothes, my bed and two perfectly fine meals every day, and that’s what you think this is?’

‘Yes, and I’m very thankful for that, just as I am for being locked in a cage for days and now—what, you’re isolating me from your entire crew like I have the pest?’

‘I did no such thing!’ He was quick to defend himself from the accusation.

‘So, just Harrington then? Do not lie to me, Munson; I saw how he avoided me the whole time, then tried to not sound as if you had not commanded him to not speak to me.’

‘It was his own will that followed that order. I gave him a choice.’

‘What was it, listen or die?’ That sounded about right for you.

‘We do not kill on this ship,’ he said sternly, seriously, almost more severe than you had ever heard him speak.

‘Only on every other ship?’ With a snap, the window burst open again, letting in the whistling wind and the last drops of rain into the room, but it went unnoticed by the two of you as all the focus lay in the vicious words you threw back and forth.

‘Only those who deserve it. Yes.’ His face was set in anger, and you backed away, not because of his appearance but what he had admitted to.

‘What did my men deserve? They were innocent!’’ Everyone on the ship must have heard you if they had not already been listening to the rest of the conversation.

‘Of course, we’re all just innocent men, aren’t we?’ He regained his need for theatrics as he spread his arms invitingly, laughing hysterically. ‘Everyone except for me, that is. I am the big scary monster at the bottom of the sea that you should fear. That’s what I am, right, darling? I’m the monster.’ He also began to get louder with each word, his words slurred with exhaustion. That is when you noticed the bottle on the edge of the desk. The rest of the room lay in disarray, but the bottle stood pristinely on the corner of the oaken desktop, uncorked without anything spilt it, but nonetheless half empty.

‘Are you drunk?’ You reached for the bottle.

‘You wish, princess.’ He laughed. ‘Then maybe I wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. But please, be my guest, drink–’ he pointed at the bottle you were holding, ‘eat, take my clothes, my bed, men, maybe go through all of my belongings once more, read my personal correspondence like its a bloody periodical. Jump of the ship if you please. I do not care.’ He threw his arms up, and something in you tightened. Of course, he knew about you, having read the letter. But should you feel guilty about it now? When he just admitted to targeting your friends? So many things were going through your head, and words you wanted to say to him, but only one question truly encapsulated it all.

‘What is your problem?’

‘You.’ He pointed sternly, so there was no confusion on the matter, ‘You are my problem. Have been since the very first day.’

‘Well, if only there had been a solution to that,’ you threw your arms up in faux-surrender, ‘Like maybe, not kidnapping me, or you could have left me to die on my ship or, even better, not ambushing my ship!’

‘You were never meant to be on that ship!’ He yelled out, letting out all his frustrations while all of yours disintegrated at that moment, too, as you let his words go through you. The next word you spoke was too overcrowded by confusion to be heard from a distance.

‘What?’

‘You know you weren’t supposed to be there.’ He blinked, and something in him cracked. A part of him you had never seen before that had come out by mistake and was now vulnerable against everything. ‘It was supposed to be them—him—’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I know them. You speak of what a monster I am, but I know what kind of monsters they are and what they do, and I know you’re not one of them.’

‘You don’t know anything about me!’ You gritted your teeth as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. With each sentence spoken between you, unbeknownst to either, utterly subconsciously, you had both pulled at an invisible string. Pulling each other closer and closer until there was nowhere left to pull; the knot tied you down. Inseparable.

Munson looked down at you, the angles of his features suddenly softer, eyes flickering over all the corners of your face. ‘Well, what do you know about me?’

If he had asked you this any other day, any other minute, even if it had been ten seconds before, you would have been able to answer him directly with no hesitation. But, unfortunately, he had asked it right at this moment, as you stood only inches apart. Breathing the same air in and out. Everything around you dampened. It was just you and him. No sound, no light, no touch. Time sped up and slowed down at the same time. You could have stood there for an hour or a second, which would not have mattered.

You were still fighting to find the words when he touched your cheek and pulled you in. His lips practically crashed into yours with the force of a burning sun, and that is what must have burst inside you as he did. All thoughts fizzled away from your mind to the point that the only thing you could think of was his body on yours. The touch between the two of you. His lips on yours, hand on cheek, chest to chest.

But as smoothly as those thoughts had dissolved, as quickly they rematerialised when he pulled away. And with the moment of clarity, you let your body speak for itself as now your hand met his cheek.

Harshly.

The impact ghosted your palm as the red mark across his jawline began to form. Following your hand’s movement, he turned his face away but slowly came back to you, and nothing had changed about him. You could not read anything of him. He was a closed book. A tall wall between two cursed lands.

But that is when you realised that something had changed in you. Deep within.

A fracture.

It must have been there for ages, shattering away small pieces here and there as time passed. Each day, no matter how hard you tried to keep them under control, the cracks would grow and grow, ready to burst out whatever it was hiding on the other side. This thing that was hungry for something. Something you had never known you wanted, even needed, but now could not live another second without. As your chest still rose with anger, and the final crack formed, breaking the foundations apart, you leaned in and let your lips meet his for a second time. Without letting another second go to waste, he grabbed you tightly and pulled you in, closing any possible gaps. Bursting through the walls.

Like a cannon,

straight through the heart.

The damage was done.

Chapter 8

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging. I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the Eddie Munson taglist. right here.

taglist (part 1)

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @strangerfreaks @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @vintagehellfire @raven-rust @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @imjusteddietrashatthispoint @lunar-corgimon

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jakeyt · 1 year ago

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Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great.

Was.

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home.

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .

thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

Two Weeks Later

Friday, August 26, 2022

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose.

His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him.

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine.

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.

You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way.

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

Saturday, August 13, 2022

“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.

He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more.

But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.

“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect.

He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?

Surely he had an ulterior motive.

“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”

He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”

Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”

“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”

“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.

Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him.

Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”

Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration.

It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.

“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”

You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went.

But you didn’t.

After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor.

Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah).

No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him.

And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more.

More you couldn’t have.

But for now, you’d pretend you could.

Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him.

Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .

But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already.

And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.

Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could.

It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.

So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him.

You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . .

You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep.

Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.

But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him.

You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours?

Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips.

Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip.

Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.

This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.

Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice.

“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up.

You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat.

He had a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers.

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”

“What?”

He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”

You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”

He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear.

“Why?”

“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”

It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.

Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in.

And so, without considering anything else, you did.

“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”

His brow raised, questioning your words.

“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”

You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held.

Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you.

They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”

You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay. I want to listen.”

You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him.

“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”

He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input.

“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”

“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body.

He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close.

“How old were you?”

“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”

Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction.

His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.

Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him.

This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited.

Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.

A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”

“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”

“Stayed with them until. . .?”

“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”

“And you’re going to school for. . .?”

You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”

“Don’t like writing anymore?”

You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”

He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”

“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”

He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”

For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”

“Incredible?” He smiled.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”

You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head.

A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

His next words confirmed it.

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though.

“Has no one ever told you?”

“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth.

“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

“Thank you,” again, was all you could say.

“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”

“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”

“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?”

“Mhm.”

“And you still let it happen?”

I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.

“Wanted it to,” you remarked.

He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you.

But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”

“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”

“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”

“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”

You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”

“Thank you.”

“For trauma dumping?” You giggled.

“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck.

Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled.

Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.

Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you.

It felt so freeing.

Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”

“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”

“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.

The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.

He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”

You blinked a couple times before responding.

“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”

“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off.

“Twin life?”

He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”

“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”

“I’m jealous.”

“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”

“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”

Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.

There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.

“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him.

He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.

“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock.

The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling.

His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth.

So fucking handsome.

“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”

Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved.

When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.

He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin.

It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.

Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him.

There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.

(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)

Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . .

But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.

And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.

Fuck, the length.

Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.

His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were.

You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead.

“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking.

The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.

Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back.

But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before.

Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him.

And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart.

Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black.

He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more.

“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him.

Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows.

“What do you like about them?”

He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.

“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch.

Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”

“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”

He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need.

Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you.

But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.

“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.

His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”

But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked.

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps.

Dear God.

But he seemed dissatisfied.

And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time.

But it seemed he still wanted your help.

You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth.

“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you.

You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand.

After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.

Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.

You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.

You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand.

You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to.

When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.

He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace.

“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you.

As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.

“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched.

“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp.

Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you.

“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”

And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well.

Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.

He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust.

His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.

“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words.

His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom.

“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”

The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.

“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted.

“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word.

Your toes curled with a moan.

“Still too long.”

“Impatient.”

“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth.

With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”

You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.

You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”

“I fucking love it.”

Oh.

Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper.

You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it.

It was painful and delicious all at once.

Fuck he felt so good.

The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.

“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”

You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”

A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”

He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”

You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”

“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours.

Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”

He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply.

“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request.

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”

Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did.

He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.

His body was a work of art.

His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage.

The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods.

And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry.

But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.

Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body.

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle.

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature.

His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in.

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours.

But he wasn’t.

And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer.

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice.

The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.

The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you.

You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.”

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead.

Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well.

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . .

But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation.

And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.

And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him.

And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle.

Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you.

Pieces you’d forgotten even existed.

And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man.

As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him.

But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.

He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in.

You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both.

Just as another favorite of yours came on.

The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.

Like the sweet morning dew,

I took one look at you,

And it was plain to see you were my destiny.

With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.

Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing.

It always was from this position.

And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.

Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time.

Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart.

While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked.

He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up.

The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.

You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy.

“Jakey,” you moaned.

“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”

“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.

“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”

Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings.

That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.

And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.

“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking.

He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”

You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.

You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.

Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you.

You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy.

“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.

Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.

Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music.

But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking.

No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?

It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.

A big one.

But you’d worry about that later.

Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought.

You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you.

How in the hell had you let it come to this?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school.

But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it.

To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.

And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing.

Not at all.

You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning.

And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.

He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.

The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.

As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents.

You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.

Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you.

And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them.

At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time.

Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner.

Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him.

Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :(

But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank.

I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.

Then, another text came through.

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time

He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.

While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this

Here it comes.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it

You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .

But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back.

You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.

And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car.

Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.

But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place.

You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case.

Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him.

Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back.

But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return.

Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her.

For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman.

Thankfully, you didn’t.

But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat.

You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.

At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her.

Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to?

Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again.

She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up.

Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more.

And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.

“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat.

His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.

You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons.

Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel.

The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.

We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business.

But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone.

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay.

You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”

The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”

“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it.

His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.

Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently.

When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.

“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.

“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”

Fuck.

Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.

But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek.

Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.

We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.

“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”

Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded.

“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth.

But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.

Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.

It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay.

As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near.

You were giddy with the fact that he was there.

And it just continued to get better as the night wore on.

Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people.

As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her.

You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family.

Then dinner came.

“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”

“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words.

“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek.

Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.

“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?”

Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.

To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you.

“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.

You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation.

“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic.

“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other.

“Howard, quit,” your Grandmother defended.

At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice.

“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”

“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”

For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you.

Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly.

She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.

Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way.

You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was.

It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way.

Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film.

Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well.

And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness.

Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.

You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk.

The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably.

Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected.

But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways.

But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing.

By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.

You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.

As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s.

Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave.

And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.

You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.

The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did.

But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.

Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born.

“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”

“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”

You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”

He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.

“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him.

“I did. I feel like all of us do.”

“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”

“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”

Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off.

“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”

As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t.

Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children.

You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.

He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.

It was awkward.

Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore.

Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time.

But he still ignored it.

“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.

When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little.

You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face.

“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.

“Jake.”

He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you.

You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises.

You felt vulnerable and stark naked.

Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.

You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread.

And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .

Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow.

“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”

Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”

“A 1960. . .?”

“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”

Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”

You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.

Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.

An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life.

But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.

He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.

Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you.

The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right.

The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . .

But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .

You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment.

So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible.

“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”

Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.

You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments.

You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back.

There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things.

Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’

How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents.

To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.

Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time?

Trauma-induced memory loss?

Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that.

Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things.

Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life.

You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that.

Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it.

Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day.

You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.

Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.

Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe.

Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released.

You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down.

Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.

But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings.

You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you.

He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you.

Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.

“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”

Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it.

“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible.

“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.

Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding.

After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”

Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.

You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”

“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

“Wrong.”

He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band.

Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face.

You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”

Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”

“Hm?”

“How did things change between us?”

He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”

You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.

“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”

“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone.

“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”

“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know.

“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.

You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become.

It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.

But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.

“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”

You flushed. “I had to say that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago.

The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them.

When he bit his lip, it was over.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .

Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer.

He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.

It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.

He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it.

And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.

You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more.

As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave.

You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.

“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”

“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm.

“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”

“About your mom?”

“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him.

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart.

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.

He was here to help. Let him.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand.

So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.

“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t you?”

You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”

“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re human.”

“But so were the people I hurt.”

“Who would you say you hurt most?”

“Els.”

“And has she forgiven you?”

“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.

“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”

“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.”

“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh.

“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”

“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft.

“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”

“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”

“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.

He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”

He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”

Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you.

Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you.

All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.

These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).

But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim.

It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that.

Twin telepathy at its finest.

You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day.

Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal.

But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.

They were becoming rockstars. Truly.

Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too.

But they were still your boys.

Never changing.

Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him.

“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.

“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”

Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming

“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it.

You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”

You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”

“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two.

“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”

Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.

“I ask again, who is Maya?”

“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”

“Sam–.”

“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.

He was doing what, now?

Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.

Seething was a better term.

You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return.

Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.

“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace.

Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide.

“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look.

No. Couldn’t be.

The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy.

Surely not. . .

You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion.

But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . .

You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was.

The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch.

You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.

Play it cool, play it cool.

You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit.

Stop it, y/n.

Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears. “It meant nothing—.”

You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.

“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”

Sam was the only one smiling in the room.

The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.

You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!

But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up.

Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?

It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug.

And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .

His favorite part of the day. . .

Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.

You just needed to get out of the room.

As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom.

The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.

“How about dinner?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: uh oh. . .

alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)

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