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kingofbodyrolls · 16 days

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | thirteen

🐴Chapter summary: Jimin thinks back on all this bad decisions, and how much he has truly hurt you. He loves you, and he wants you back, but unable to articulate his feelings properly, he finds himself writing a letter to you. 🐴Chapter title: Love Letter

🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc

🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst

🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

🐴Chapter warnings: low self-esteem, low confidence, hurt, sadness, overthinking, destructive thoughts, Jimin’s POV, angst, mention of sex.

🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!)

🐴Word count: 13.4k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Love Someone” by Lukas Graham. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: this is entirely from Jimin’s POV. Both OC and Jimin have been through a lot, and they have both hurt each other in different ways (but mostly it’s been Jimin hurting her 😭). In this chapter, we will get better insight into Jimin’s thoughts and his feelings all the way from the beginning! I really hope you like it— please let me know. I know Jimin has been behaving horribly, and I’m not excusing his behavior with the chapter, I’m simply saying that he is a flawed human like the rest of us, and no, we might not all agree or even understand his behavior, but.. 🥹 And if you don’t like these kind of chapters/stories were the story is essentially being retold from another character’s point of view, it’s fine, you are welcome to skip it, but if you want to know why Jimin has been acting like a douche, this one’s for you. Also, there are a bit of new stuff in here too, but it’s mostly just Jimin thinking about his bad behavior, lol, so it’s quite sad too 😭

🐴Author’s note— extra: I’m almost finished with writing the series and I got this cute idea to do a Q&A with the characters (questions for me is also okay). So, you can already send in your asks (could also be a comment/reblog, though I think asks are easier for me to keep track of). I’ll turn on anon asks, so if you prefer that, there’s that option. But please, be nice, okay? (not that I don’t expect that of you, I’ve just gotten nasty asks before). You can ask anything, to the characters, like why the behaved/thought/said something or what they didn’t say or do 🤭 You can also ask me about the story, the process or anything like that. As I said, the asks for the characters will be included in the Epilogue (I’ll also reply to the asks, I won’t reply right away, but keep them until the Epilogue will be released!)

You can send in your questions for the characters or me here → Ask away 💜*

*for people on AO3 you can also participate if you want to, just leave a comment (guest/anon or not), and I’ll reply to that and I’ll add your question in the Epilogue 💜

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“We have enough to guide usWe have enough to lastWe’re not aloneWe never wereYou and I aren’t lostOh hold me very tightlyHold me fast and strongI am your loveWon’t stray from youYou and I belong” ‘My Heart is Like a River’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Fuck.

This was the last thing he expected.

He never envisioned this moment, the one where you’d walk away, leaving him shattered and angry. He didn’t want this. Not in the slightest. Yet here he is, consumed by a turbulent mix of sorrow and self-directed fury, haunted by a year’s worth of regrettable decisions. He’s unable to find sleep, which is why he sinks into the couch at night, his knuckles white with tension as he grips a pen, its tip poised over the stark emptiness of the paper laid out before him.

He grasps the reasons behind your decision to end things, but the ache it leaves behind is unbearable. It’s a raw, searing pain that gnaws at him relentlessly. Understanding that he’s the architect of his own misery only compounds the agony. How does he begin to convey the depth of his remorse, the magnitude of his love for you? Every mistake he’s made weighs heavily on his conscience, a burden he’s not sure he can ever fully unburden. The prospect of reaching out to you now feels daunting, uncertain. He can still vividly recall the anguish etched across your face as you uttered those words, and the thought of adding to your pain is unbearable. For too long, he’s been a source of hurt, and the realization cuts him to the core.

He despises himself for causing you so much pain.

Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, he grapples with the enormity of his love for you and the depth of his remorse. Words, he knows, can only scratch the surface of what he truly feels. How does one encapsulate a torrent of emotions in mere letters? Yet, he resolves to try, to lay bare his heart in this letter, hoping that somewhere amidst the ink-stained pages, you’ll find a glimmer of understanding, a shard of forgiveness.

As he traverses the hallway, the resonating clinks of heels guide his steps, drawing him towards the kitchen like a siren’s call. Entering, he beholds a vision: a woman, clad in a summer dress that dances with every step, her attire an incongruous yet captivating sight against the rustic backdrop. A wry smile tugs at his lips as he observes her, her presence a curious enigma, tinged with a hint of déjà vu. Could it be? Has he crossed paths with her before, or is she merely a figment of his imagination, conjured from distant memories?

“Can I help you?” He ventures, his tone a blend of curiosity and a subtle undercurrent of intrigue. His gaze lingers on you, tracing the contours of your form, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you. Yet, met with silence, he repeats his inquiry, his voice carrying a note of gentle persistence.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, the nervous energy palpable in your voice as you fidget with the folds of your dress, “I’m looking for Jessi?”

He chuckles warmly, a playful glint in his eyes as he flashes you a disarming smile. “Who are you?” His curiosity piqued, he leans in slightly, intrigued by your unexpected presence.

“I’m Jessi’s sister,” you declare confidently, your arms folding beneath your chest. As the realization dawns on him, he’s flooded with a mix of surprise and nostalgia. Of course, you’re Jessi’s sister! How could he have missed it? Memories come flooding back, of days spent playing together as children, and he can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the sight of you, his childhood friend. A hint of that old crush resurfaces, sending his heart racing in his chest.

His cheeks warm with a blush, though he fights to keep it concealed. Admitting that his crush on you never waned might be too much, too soon. “You don’t remember me?” He ventures, a flicker of hope in his eyes, yet tinged with apprehension. The thought that you might not recall him is unsettling; after all, he had his own struggles recognizing you, despite the unmistakable familiarity.

As you simply stare at him, he adds, “It’s me, Jimin,” a hint of self-realization accompanying his words. It dawns on him that he never properly introduced himself, contributing to the confusion.

“Park?” You echo, incredulity weaving through your voice as you study him, and a soft chuckle escapes him, granting you a moment to recollect the countless hours spent playing together.

“Yeah! Don’t you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, gently nudging your memory in the hope of rekindling the moments of your childhood, now flooding vividly back to him.

You were such a vibrant and spirited girl back then, and you’re just as captivating now. You used to play games with him and your sister, embarking on countless adventures around your ranch and his parents’ property.

As recognition dawns upon you, he observes the tension in your features melting away, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Gesturing for you to take a seat, he retrieves a glass of water, all the while marveling at your presence. You look breathtaking, and the realization that you’re back hits him like a tidal wave. It’s been two decades since he last saw you, yet the memories flood back with a vengeance, reigniting the flames of that childhood crush in his heart.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, aware of the complexity of losing a parent, especially considering the strained relationship you’ve had with her for years, details he gleaned from your sister. Your expression shifts into one of pain, but you quickly dismiss it with a “It’s whatever,” though he senses it's anything but. Respectful of your boundaries, he refrains from probing further, though he silently wishes you’d open up. If ever you needed someone to talk to, he’d be there in a heartbeat, ready to lend a listening ear and a comforting shoulder to cry on, no matter the hour.

He offers you a warm, reassuring smile, a gesture he knows he can manage in times like these. Just then, he hears the familiar footsteps of your sister approaching, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Her usual nagging about work trailing behind her like a persistent echo. But sometimes, he thinks, a brief respite is necessary before diving back into the grind. With a chuckle, he bids you farewell, promising to return to his tasks shortly. As he returns to his work, a contented smile graces his lips, though beneath the surface, his heart races with an unexpected flurry of emotions, stirred up by your unexpected presence.

As the barn party kicks off, Jimin finds himself consumed by thoughts of you, his mind drifting back to the encounter in the kitchen. It’s a strange sensation, akin to the giddiness of a schoolboy harboring a secret crush—except in this case, it's not just a youthful infatuation; it’s a reunion with someone from his past. When you and your father left the ranch, he never imagined seeing you again, the sudden departure leaving him with unspoken feelings he couldn't articulate at the time. He regrets not expressing his affection for you back then, but in hindsight, he knows you were both just kids, and such declarations might not have been taken seriously anyway.

Now that you’ve returned and his dormant feelings have resurfaced with a vengeance, Jimin feels an urgent need to express himself. He’s torn between the desire to reconnect with you as friends or dare to hope for something more. As he attempts to rein in his racing thoughts, he realizes just how awkward he can be around women, especially you, whom he holds in such high regard. But despite his nervousness, his affection for you outweighs his fear of awkwardness, propelling him to seek a meaningful connection with you once more.

The barn pulses with the rhythm of the music, matching the frantic beat of Jimin’s thoughts. He caught a glimpse of you earlier, but amidst the sea of people, he’s lost sight of you. The desire to reconnect with you burns fiercely within him, igniting the hope of perhaps mustering the courage to ask you out on a date. As he navigates through the crowd, he can’t shake the anticipation building in his chest, eager to find you and seize the opportunity to reignite your friendship.

As Jimin steps outside into the darkness, his heart races with anticipation, but what he encounters crushes him like a ton of bricks. His eyes land on you, pinned against the wall by his own brother, Jungkook, their heavy breaths echoing in the night. The sight drains the color from his world, leaving him feeling hollow and breathless. It’s a visceral punch to the gut, witnessing you entangled with his brother in such an intimate embrace. He can’t bear to look, the sickness rising in his throat threatens to overwhelm him. With a quick turn, he retreats back inside, his heart heavy with sorrow, his body trembling with a coldness that belies the heat of the barn.

Your eyes, reflecting surprise and sorrow, haunt his thoughts relentlessly. Jimin’s anger simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the sight of you with his brother. Jungkook’s magnetic charm is a curse Jimin knows all too well. It’s a pattern he’s witnessed countless times— his dates inevitably gravitate towards Jungkook’s allure, leaving Jimin feeling like a mere shadow in comparison. The pain of this familiar betrayal cuts deep, gnawing at his insides. He curses himself for his own hesitance, wishing he had seized the chance to connect with you before Jungkook’s spell took hold. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t be entangled with his brother now.

His chest tightens with a mix of fury and resignation. Rationality tells him you owe him nothing, yet the sting of rejection cuts deep. It’s a bitter pill he’s swallowed before, a recurring cycle of dashed hopes. Jungkook’s effortless allure always casts a shadow over Jimin’s prospects, leaving him feeling like fate’s perpetual underdog. The injustice of it all boils within him, a potent blend of anger and despair.

The weight of disappointment crushes his spirit, suffocating any semblance of enjoyment. What’s the point of staying at the party when the sight of you with his brother taints every corner of the barn? It’s a bitter pill to swallow, realizing he’s become a mere spectator in the game of love, always on the sidelines while Jungkook effortlessly steals the show. With a heavy heart, he contemplates leaving, unwilling to dampen the festivities with his darkening mood.

Jimin’s heart clenches at the mere thought of encountering you again, knowing all too well the anguish that awaits him in your eyes. Since witnessing you with his brother, he’s been ensnared by a whirlwind of hurt and resentment, emotions he’s been struggling to untangle. Your return, alongside your sister, feels like a cruel twist of fate, forcing him to confront the turmoil bubbling within him. Avoiding your gaze has become his coping mechanism, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the raw vulnerability lurking beneath the surface. Deep down, he still harbors affection for you, but the shadow of your entanglement with Jungkook looms large, casting doubt on any potential future between you. He doesn’t think you’ll ever be satisfied with him, now that you’ve been with his brother. The bitter realization gnaws at his soul, threatening to consume him whole. Yet, he knows dwelling on such thoughts serves no purpose, only deepening the wounds already etched into his heart.

“Where’s Kook?” Your sister’s inquiry cuts through the heavy silence, offering Jimin a fleeting respite from the tumult of his emotions. Grateful for the distraction, he exhales a silent sigh of relief, seizing the opportunity to avert his gaze from you, if only for a moment longer.

“In the barn fixing his bike, I’ll get him,” he responds with a forced smile, determined to maintain a facade of composure despite the turmoil within. As he strides past both of you, he catches the subtle shift in your gaze, but he refuses to acknowledge it, steeling himself against the flood of emotions threatening to engulf him. Ignoring you feels like self-preservation, a necessary shield against the ache in his heart.

Jimin locates his brother, and together they make their way back to where you and your sister stand. Jungkook, ever the cocky one, can’t resist a jab, his smirk evident as he quips, “Back for round two?”

Jimin scowls at his brother’s remark, finding him insufferable as usual. Anger bubbles within him, exacerbated by the widened shock in your eyes, as if they might pop out of their sockets at any moment. With an exasperated eye roll, Jimin brushes off Jungkook’s comment.

“No, thank you,” you sputter, and Jimin can’t help but feel a glimmer of relief, sensing that you’re not interested in his brother’s crude advances.

“You’re welcome anytime, babe,” his brother teases, winking at you, and Jimin suppresses a sigh. Jungkook’s flirtatious nature is no secret, but at this moment, Jimin can’t help but feel a twinge of irritation at his brother’s antics.

“Enough of that,” your sister declares, her interruption a welcome relief from the tension swirling in the air. Jimin exhales slowly, grateful for the distraction, as the mere thought of you and Jungkook ignites a fiery surge of jealousy within him. He knows delving into the depths of his unresolved emotions would only unravel him further, and he’s not ready to confront that turmoil just yet.

He catches the subtle glances you steal in his direction, but your eyes dart away the moment they meet his. It’s a confusing dance of fleeting interest, leaving Jimin bewildered and uncertain. After all, you’ve been intimate with his brother, so why would you show any interest in him? The ambiguity of your gaze sends his thoughts spiraling, unsure of what to make of the situation. Deciding it’s best to avoid further speculation, Jimin opts to keep his gaze lowered, wrestling with the tumult of emotions churning within him.

The bar door swings open, and there you are, clad in nothing but pants and a bra. His gaze darts to your anxious eyes, taking in the tremble of your body as you and your entourage make your way over to their table.

“Did you lose a bet or something?” Jungkook’s voice rings out, accompanied by a sharp whistle and a burst of laughter. Jimin rolls his eyes, frustration bubbling up at his brother’s relentless teasing of you.

He watches as you effortlessly roll your eyes at his brother’s teasing remark, your composure unshaken as you confidently take a seat.

“Well. Someone doesn’t share clothes. Apparently.” You quip with a hint of playful spite, directing your gaze at your sister, and he can’t help but chuckle, hastily concealing it behind a hand pressed to his lips.

You’re introduced to Yoongi and Hoseok, and Soo-ah hands you a beer, initiating conversation. Jimin finds his gaze lingering on your exposed skin, noticing the goosebumps forming and wondering if you’re feeling the chill.

“Aren’t you cold?” He notices how you bite your lip, but you merely shrug in response. Jimin considers offering you his shirt, though he’s unsure of how you’d react. Despite being comfortable sitting shirtless himself, he contemplates making the gesture anyway—

“Here. You can have my shirt,” his brother beats him to it, and Jimin grumbles, clenching his hands under the table in frustration. Damn it. He had wanted to offer you his shirt, but now he’s too late because he hesitated and over-thought the situation. Again.

God, sometimes Jimin really despises his brother.

“Well, look who’s playing the gentleman,” Yoongi teases with a playful smack to Jungkook’s chest, and Jimin can’t help but roll his eyes once more. He’s well aware that his brother always has an agenda, always.

“Easier to pick up the ladies like this, anyway,” Jungkook remarks with a smirk, confirming Jimin’s suspicions. Jungkook may not be aiming to win you back, but he’s always on the lookout for the next pretty face. It’s moments like these that remind Jimin just how shallow his brother can be, always thinking with his dick instead of his brain.

As the table empties out, leaving just you and Jimin, a palpable tension lingers in the air, thickening with each passing moment. He can sense your uncertainty, and it mirrors his own nervousness. The weight of the unspoken words between you feels heavy, almost suffocating. Jimin shifts uncomfortably, unsure if he should break the silence or let it linger, unsure if his words will only add to the tension.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” your hesitant voice cuts through the tension like a knife, breaking the suffocating silence that had settled between you. With a nervous expression, you fidget with your beer, your eyes betraying a mixture of apprehension and genuine concern.

His breath catches in his throat, surprised by your unexpected apology. Nodding gently, he gestures for you to elaborate, his mind racing with a blend of curiosity and cautious apprehension. Though uncertain of the reason behind your apology, he’s prepared to listen, his thoughts swirling with tentative guesses.

“I’m sorry I slept with your brother…” Your words cut through the air like a chilling breeze, each syllable heavy with the weight of regret. In a hushed confession, you lay bare the source of your apology, and he feels his chest tighten in response. His facade wavers momentarily, a flinch betraying the torrent of emotions raging within him. Beneath the veneer of composure, a tempest of anger swirls, threatening to engulf him in its fiery grasp.

“Why apologize for that?” His voice carries a hint of curiosity, a mask for the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. With a casual sip of his beer, he studies you intently, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. You’re allowed to fuck whoever you want, he acknowledges inwardly, but the bitterness lingers, souring the taste of his thoughts. It’s not so much the act itself that stings, but the circumstances surrounding it—his brother, the witness to your intimacy. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and he can’t help but lament the unfortunate twist of fate.

“It just seems like you’re angry with me… or something,” you add tentatively, your words laced with apprehension. He notices the nervous edge in your voice, the subtle tremor betraying your uncertainty, and how you avert your gaze, as if unable to meet his eyes.

“Look,” he starts, leaning in slightly over the table, his voice measured yet tinged with underlying emotion, “I’m not really angry. Maybe I’m more disappointed?” Despite his attempt at rationalizing his feelings, he knows deep down that anger brews within him, though its target remains elusive—whether directed at you or his brother, he’s unsure. After all, they’re all adults here, and dwelling on this resentment won’t change anything. Deep down, he knows he’s harboring a sense of anger, not necessarily at you, but at the recurring pattern where his brother always seems to come out on top. It’s a feeling of disappointment that runs deeper than just this one incident—it’s a narrative that’s unfolded over years, leaving him questioning his own worth. And he recognizes, it isn’t your fault; you’re just caught in the crossfire of a longstanding dynamic.

“You are, of course, allowed to sleep with whoever you want to. It’s just… it’s always him.” His words carry a raw edge, laced with a palpable mix of frustration and resentment. Jungkook’s recurring presence in such situations gnaws at him, a constant reminder of his brother’s tendency to overshadow him. Yet, even amidst his own turmoil, he realizes the futility of roping you into their tangled sibling rivalry. It’s an unhealthy dynamic, one he knows all too well, and he doesn’t want to drag you into its murky depths.

He watches as a wave of realization washes over your features, but he feels compelled to add more. “All women are drawn to him. He’s always fucking around. Not that I’m saying I want to be like that, but sometimes, it would be nice to feel noticed, you know?” Damn it. He said too much. Did he have too many beers? No, he’s barely finished his first bottle, and yet here he is, pouring out truths from the depths of his heart.

Damn it, why did he say that? He curses inwardly, realizing he’s delving into territory he’d rather avoid. He desperately needs to steer the conversation elsewhere, pronto.

“You know… When I saw you that day in the kitchen after all those years,” he starts tentatively, hoping to shift the focus away from his raw emotions.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, a gesture betraying the turmoil within. “I never thought I would see you again when you and your father left,” he confesses, a mixture of longing and regret bubbling beneath the surface, camouflaged by a forced chuckle.

His nerves prickle like a live wire, urging him to speak, even as his mind screams caution. “Did you know,” he blurts, the words tumbling out despite his better judgment, “I had a crush on you when we were kids?” His throat tightens with apprehension, berating himself internally for the sudden confession. Was it just one beer he had? Because why on earth would he reveal this now?

“I had no idea,” you reply, your voice laced with surprise and regret, your features softening with an apologetic expression. “I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, though the tension in his voice betrays his true feelings. His heart races with nervousness, cursing himself for his lack of restraint in revealing his past crush. But there's a deeper secret he keeps buried: his current feelings for you, perhaps even love. It's a precarious balance between wanting to confess and fearing rejection. He prays his mouth won’t betray him again, divulging more than he’s ready to admit.

Sensing the danger of delving further into emotions, he swiftly changes the topic, opting for safer conversational waters. Offering to fetch another round of beers, he steers the discussion towards lighter subjects. Yet, beneath his composed facade, he finds himself unnerved by you. There’s an undeniable allure to your demeanor— a blend of nervousness and confidence that both intrigues and intimidates him. He’s drawn to your self-assuredness, yet fears the intensity of his own feelings, wary of pushing you away with his overwhelming emotions.

“I’ve been considering heading back home. It just feels like I mess everything up…” You confess, your words tinged with uncertainty, and he feels a surge of emotion. Panic grips him at the mere thought of you leaving. No. No. He can’t bear the idea of you walking away, of missing out on the potential moments you could share together. Despite his internal conflict, a selfish desire whispers in his heart, urging you to stay, if only for a little while longer.

“No, no, you shouldn’t give up. Please, give it some more time,” he urges, his voice laced with genuine concern. Each word carries the weight of his longing, a silent plea for you to stay. Memories of his childhood flood his mind, reminding him of the warmth you brought to his heart. He can’t bear the thought of losing you again, not when he feels a flicker of hope reignite in his heart at your return.

Jimin has been surreptitiously observing you as you sort wool with Yoongi, stealing glances whenever he can muster the courage. Each time your eyes meet his, it sends a flutter through his chest, a silent reminder of the unresolved emotions swirling within him. He grapples with the realization that perhaps he’s been too quick to let his insecurities dictate his reactions, especially when he witnessed you with his brother. Yet, amidst the tangled mess of doubts and hopes, one thing remains clear—he still harbors feelings for you. With each passing moment, he wrestles with the notion of reaching out, of bridging the gap that has formed between you. Could there be a chance to mend what’s broken, to transcend the shadow of past misunderstandings? As he contemplates these questions, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there’s a glimmer of mutual interest between you two. But how does one navigate the delicate dance of reigniting a connection fraught with uncertainties? Jimin finds himself at a loss, grappling with the complexities of his own heart as he yearns for a sign, a signal that could pave the way for a new beginning.

Caught off guard by the sudden outburst, Jimin’s thoughts scatter like startled birds as your sister’s sharp reprimand slices through the air. He can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for you, knowing firsthand the intensity of Jessi’s temper. Watching your gaze falter, retreating from the accusatory finger jabbing in your direction, he senses your discomfort like a palpable wave washing over the scene. A surge of concern floods Jimin’s chest as he worries about the impact Jessi’s harsh words might have on you. Could this tirade be the final straw, driving you away for good? The fear gnaws at him, a silent plea echoing in his mind for some semblance of peace to return to the tense atmosphere.

As you take a hesitant step backward, Jimin’s heart clenches with concern, his grip on the clippers loosening as he watches you dart towards the door. Without a second thought, he abandons the tools and bolts after you, propelled by a surge of urgency to catch up and ensure you’re okay.

“Please come back,” Jimin’s plea is tinged with desperation as he watches you retreat towards the house. His heart races with a sense of urgency, knowing he can’t let you leave without offering some comfort. He longs to reassure you that your sister’s harshness doesn't define your worth, that everything will eventually fall into place.

As you pivot, a look of anguish etched across your features, you confess, “I fuck everything up Jimin.” His heart aches at your admission, wondering what else burdens your mind. “I feel utterly useless on this ranch,” you add, your voice heavy with self-doubt. Jimin's resolve strengthens, determined to offer you the solace and encouragement you desperately need.

“It’s to be expected. You’ll get better,” he reassures you, his voice laced with sincerity. Despite his efforts to comfort you, he notices how you’ve withdrawn into yourself, lost in your own thoughts.

“Do you think I belong here?” Your question catches him off guard and he gapes at you, but he already knows the answer to your question, so it’s easy.

“I do,” he says, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that belies the simplicity of the words. It’s a plea, a fervent wish whispered into the air, a silent urging for you to see what he sees – that this place, this ranch, is where you truly belong. Deep down, he knows it’s selfish, but damn it, he can’t bear the thought of you leaving.

“I believe you just need time,” he offers with a gentle smile, though beneath it, he can feel the weight of your uncertainty. It’s a small offering of solace, but he knows words alone can’t ease the turmoil brewing within you.

“I don’t think I fit in, and I feel like an imposter,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Each word strikes a chord within him, a pang of sadness laced with determination. He can’t bear the thought of you feeling out of place, not when he envisions you finding your footing here, becoming a part of this place he calls home. He believes in you, in your ability to belong, and he’s willing to give you all the time you need to see it too.

One thing is a childhood crush, but delving into the depths of who you are now, the adult version of you, that’s what he craves. He yearns to unravel the layers, to discover if there’s a deeper connection waiting to be unearthed between you two, something more profound and meaningful than just fleeting feelings from the past.

As the rain cascades down upon both of you, Jimin’s attention isn’t on the weather, but on you, on your emotions. “We should get back” he suggests, aware that the rain shows no signs of relenting. Yet, amidst the downpour, he seizes a moment of boldness, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. “You belong here,” he affirms, his touch conveying a silent plea for you to stay, to weather the storm together, not just the rain outside, but the uncertainties within.

He prays silently that his words and gestures are enough to anchor you here, but deep down, he understands he can’t dictate your choices. The decision to stay must be yours alone, driven by your own desires and dreams. Yet, a fervent longing swells within him, an unspoken wish that you’ll choose to remain, not for his sake, but for your own. Oh, how he yearns for you to stay.

You left. It’s a twist he didn’t see coming, yet somehow, it makes sense. Your sister’s relentless demands and the weight of your own insecurities pushed you away. He empathizes; Jessi’s temper can be overwhelming, and she hasn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat for you. And your self-doubt about your skills on the ranch? He gets it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and he certainly wasn’t a master of everything from the get-go either. Improvement comes with time, and he believes in your potential to thrive.

Why does he find himself standing in front of your city home, heart pounding against his ribcage like a caged bird? He knocks, and when the door swings open, you greet him with a mix of surprise and puzzlement, yet your smile, soft and tender, ignites a wildfire of hope in his chest.

“Jimin?” Your voice carries a blend of curiosity and caution, eyes darting around to confirm his identity, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in their depths.

“Hey,” he greets you with a hint of shyness, his voice slightly uneven as if your mere presence has the power to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within him. You have this uncanny ability to make his heart flutter and his nerves dance, rendering him almost breathless in your presence.

“Come in,” you invite, and as he steps across the threshold, his senses are immediately greeted by the cozy compact hallway, each corner whispering tales of your daily life within the confines of your two-bedroom apartment.

“What brings you here, Jimin?” You inquire, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of anticipation, inviting him to share the purpose of his unexpected visit. His heart races with the weight of unspoken words, debating whether to reveal the depth of his feelings, to confess how much he misses you and yearns for your return. Yet, he hesitates, fearing that such raw honesty might overwhelm you, opting instead to tread lightly into the depths of the conversation.

“I came here because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he starts, his gaze wandering around your apartment. An easel catches his eye, displaying a painting in the corner. He hadn’t realized you painted. Memories of your childhood passion for art resurface, but he hadn’t expected you to continue. Your dedication surprises and impresses him. As he admires the artwork, he can’t help but think how much it reflects your beauty and depth, a reflection of the intricate layers of your soul.

“You mentioned wanting to talk?” You inquire, drawing his attention away from your paintings. There’s a hint of curiosity in your voice, and he notices the way your eyes search his face, as if trying to decipher his thoughts. He feels a sudden rush of nerves, realizing the weight of the conversation he’s about to embark upon.

“Sure, let’s go to a cafe and have that talk,” he proposes, a spark of anticipation igniting in his eyes, his heart quickening with the prospect of finally opening up to you.

You suggest heading to a nearby café, and he readily agrees, the anticipation building as you walk the short distance together. Your demeanor betrays a hint of anxiety, and he can’t blame you—after all, he did show up unannounced, eager to talk. Arriving at the café, you both place your orders, and Jimin can feel the nervous energy coursing through him at the thought of opening up to you. But as he steals glances at your radiant smile, he knows he needs to gather his thoughts and make this moment count.

As you dig into your chocolate cake, you turn to him with a curious glint in your eyes. “So, what’s on your mind?” you inquire, your voice carrying a mix of anticipation and intrigue.

He can’t help but chuckle nervously, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying his unease as his hand moves to shield his smile. “It’s about you actually,” he confesses, his gaze lingering on you, as if searching for the right words to convey the weight of his thoughts.

He watches intently as your eyes widen, your lips parting in shock. “Me?” You echo softly, the word hanging in the air, laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

He feels his heart quicken its pace, his palms moistening with nervousness. “We miss you,” he admits, his voice a blend of longing and reluctance. Jimin knows he shouldn’t reveal too much, shouldn’t tell you how much he misses you. Yeah, the other’s miss you too and your sister actually regrets how she had been treating you. The words are close to spill out anyway. He can’t help it. Your puzzled expression prompts him to elaborate, “Everybody back home.”

The words sting him like a slap in the face. “That place isn’t my home anymore,” you declare, and each syllable feels like a dagger to his heart. He knows deep down that your old home could be your sanctuary once more, if only you’d give it another chance.

“It could be,” he responds softly, his words laden with unspoken longing. He wrestles with the urge to confess how much he aches for your presence, but he reins it in, wary of overwhelming you. Yet, glimpsing your paintings in your apartment, he discerns a silent yearning for the ranch.

“Everybody misses you, even your sister,” he adds, hoping to bridge the chasm between your worlds.

You scoff at that notion, momentarily entertaining the idea that your sister orchestrated his visit. He almost finds it amusing. Sure, Jessi might regret her actions, but her pride likely won’t allow her to apologize. He came here of his own volition, driven solely by his feelings for you. And as he gauges your response, he wonders if your sentiments mirror his own. He longs for certainty before taking the next step, eager to discern if your heart echoes his.

You spend the remaining time engaged in conversation about his heartfelt conviction that you belong on the ranch. He earnestly endeavors to sway your decision, silently yearning for your return—not just to the land, but to him. Yet, he hesitates to voice these sentiments, aware of the weight they carry. It pains him to witness your despondency, your yearning for the solace of a home—a comfort he believes he could offer, if only you desired it. Eventually, you concede to mull over the prospect of returning, a small glimmer of hope that lifts his spirits.

He’s reluctant for the day to draw to a close, even after both of you have polished off your cakes. So, he proposes a shopping excursion, and as you amble down the bustling street, he revels in the simple joy of your company. Witnessing you try on various dresses fills him with delight, but it’s the moment you find one that makes you radiate with confidence that truly captivates him. As you stand before the mirror, the dress hugging your curves in all the right places, he’s struck by the desire to gift it to you. Your surprised reaction to his offer, accompanied by a blush that tinges your cheeks, only serves to further enchant him.

As you return to your apartment and settle in to order food, Jimin realizes he’s extending his stay beyond his initial intentions. He’s wary of overstaying his welcome, yet he finds himself relishing every moment spent in your presence. Together, you indulge in a satisfying meal, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. With appetites sated, you delve into a conversation that spans the years since you departed from the ranch. Each shared anecdote and exchanged experience bridges the gap of time, weaving a tapestry of shared memories and newfound connection.

As he opens up to you, Jimin shares the tumultuous story of his family, particularly focusing on his father’s betrayal and subsequent remarriage shortly after his mother's passing. Recounting these painful memories is a struggle for him, as he harbors deep-seated resentment, especially towards his father for his infidelity. To Jimin, loyalty is paramount, and the thought of betraying a loved one is unfathomable. He reflects on the challenging dynamic with Jungkook, his stepbrother thrust into his life against his wishes. Initially resistant to the idea of a new sibling, Jimin grappled with conflicting emotions, navigating the complexities of familial relationships with grit and resilience.

He notices your curious gaze, fixated on the subtle limp in his stride, a constant reminder of a past he’d rather forget. Jimin understands the unspoken question lingering in your eyes, the same one that everyone seems eager to ask about. It’s a topic he loathes discussing—the limp, the accident, and the haunting scar etched into his flesh. Yet, he opens up to you, albeit selectively, glossing over certain details. He shields you from the raw emotions that still cling to the memories, like the overwhelming fear that consumed him in the aftermath, or the excruciating pain that once threatened to steal his mobility forever. Despite the physical healing, the pain persists, a relentless echo of the trauma that reshaped his life.

As if drawn by an invisible force, your hand ventures to his thigh, your touch igniting a cascade of sensations that electrify his senses. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through him, coaxing his heart into a frantic rhythm matched only by the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. His body responds eagerly to your touch, craving more, yearning for the warmth of your hand in places where desire simmers just beneath the surface. Jimin knows he shouldn’t entertain these forbidden thoughts, but the allure of your touch is intoxicating, tempting him into a realm of pleasure he’s desperate to explore. With each passing moment, your hand inches closer to his dick, and he's powerless to resist the magnetic pull drawing him toward the world of lust.

“Is this okay?” Your gentle inquiry sends a surge of electricity through the air, and Jimin feels a wave of apprehension wash over him. He’s caught between the desire to surrender to the intoxicating allure of your touch and the fear of crossing a line he might not be able to uncross. Yet, despite the tumult of emotions raging within him, he manages to croak out a strained “yes,” his voice betraying the depth of his longing and the intensity of his arousal.

God damn it, he curses inwardly as a surge of desire courses through him, causing his body to react involuntarily. He shifts uncomfortably, prompting your hand to retreat apologetically as you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

He reassures you with a strained “it’s okay,” but inside, he’s reeling from the lingering sensation of your touch. Your hands had worked wonders, but it’s not just the massage that’s setting him alight; it’s the mere contact with you, igniting a dangerous blaze of desire within him.

He’s acutely aware of the charged atmosphere between you, a palpable tension that threatens to unravel with every passing moment. Seeking respite, you suggest watching a movie, and he agrees, grateful for the distraction. As the film unfolds, he finds himself more captivated by the way your eyelids flutter and eventually succumb to sleep, your head gently resting against his chest. With tender care, he brushes away the stray strands of hair that caress your face, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of you in such peaceful repose. He realizes, in that moment, the depth of his feelings for you—love, pure and unadulterated. Yet, the weight of uncertainty presses upon him like a heavy burden. Should he confess his love, risking the fragile bond of friendship that now exists between you both? Or should he continue to cherish these stolen moments, content in the knowledge that you’re by his side, even if only as friends?

“I love you,” he murmurs softly, the words slipping from his lips like a secret confession, a whispered promise to the sleeping form nestled against him. In the hushed stillness of the room, he finds solace in the act of vocalizing his feelings, the weight of his emotions easing with each syllable uttered. Though he knows you’re unaware of his declaration in your slumber, he takes comfort in the notion that the words hang in the air, a silent testament to the depth of his affection for you. Yet, as the echoes of his confession fade into the night, he realizes that his journey towards vocalizing his love has only just begun—a journey he’s determined to embark upon, armed with nothing but his unwavering devotion and the courage to speak his heart when you’re awake, ready to hear his words.

He hadn’t intended on staying the night, but your gentle slumber on his lap had rooted him in place. He couldn’t bear to disrupt your peaceful rest, and truth be told, he relished the sensation of your weight against him. He couldn’t recall when your head had found its way to his thighs, but the warmth of your presence was a comfort he couldn’t deny. However, the unwelcome arousal pressing against his jeans was a stark reminder of his body’s betraying response to your innocent proximity. Your soft murmurs and endearing sighs had stirred something primal within him, leaving him unable to conceal the undeniable evidence of his desire.

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, scrambling to sit upright, cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. He can't help but chuckle at your flustered reaction, finding your genuine concern endearing.

“It’s okay. I just woke up,” he assures, though it’s not entirely true. He’s been awake for a few moments, captivated by the peaceful sight of you sleeping. Is it a bit creepy? Perhaps. But at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You end up apologizing profusely for inadvertently resting on his injured leg, but he reassures you, insisting it didn’t hurt much. Suddenly, you offer to whip up some pancakes, and the idea sounds heavenly to him. He realizes how hungry he is, so the prospect of food is more than welcome.

He realizes he should head back home soon. Yesterday, he left without a word to his brother, and he certainly didn’t mention staying the night elsewhere. Jungkook might be in a panic by now, given the flurry of missed calls on his phone. Oops.

The pancakes you’ve whipped up are simply divine, and for a fleeting moment, he entertains the idea of staying here with you indefinitely. But reality pulls him back to the ranch, his responsibilities tugging at his heartstrings. Deep down, he yearns for you to join him there, to make the place feel complete once more. Yet, he knows he can’t impose such a request on you. Your decision to return must stem from your own desires. As the time draws near for his departure, he lingers a bit longer, subtly conveying how much he’ll miss you if you choose not to come back.

“I hope to see you again, maybe back home?” His gaze lingers on you, a silent plea echoing in his eyes. In that suspended moment, he senses a subtle transformation within you, a shift in the air that ignites a blush on your cheeks. And in that shared vulnerability, he feels his own heart quicken its pace, a silent testament to the magnetic pull you exert on him with each passing moment.

As you remain silent, he gathers his courage, emboldened by the delicate flush on your cheeks. Closing the gap between you, he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. A playful grin tugs at his lips, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest; he can feel the warmth rising to his cheeks, but he couldn’t resist the urge to express his longing in that fleeting touch.

“See you at home,” he whispers, the words carrying a weight of anticipation as he descends the stairs. His heart thunders in his chest, a symphony of excitement and nerves that threaten to overwhelm him. Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, a wide grin splits his face, a telltale sign of the emotions bubbling within him. In that moment, he feels like a fool — a foolish, lovesick fool.

You’ve returned, and it’s like a missing piece of his world has finally clicked back into place. Since his visit to the city, everything between you seems to hum with a new energy, a subtle shift that he can’t ignore. The air crackles with anticipation, and he can’t help but notice the lingering glances, the charged moments that pass between you. He senses the attraction growing, weaving its way between you like a delicate thread. Perhaps it’s time to take the next step, to ask you out on a proper date. But first, there’s the matter of moving your belongings from the city back to the ranch, a task he embraces eagerly, knowing it’s a chance to be by your side once more.

He chuckles at the sight of neatly packed boxes, already lined up and ready to go. He had braced himself for a lengthy packing session, but you’ve surprised him with your efficiency. With everything neatly organized, the task ahead seems much simpler. Now, all that’s left is to lift and load the boxes onto the truck and trailer, and you’ll be ready to roll.

Despite the weight of the boxes and the growing ache in his leg, he soldiers on without complaint. He refuses to let you see the strain he’s under, determined to make this transition as smooth as possible for you. Together, you lift and carry furniture, ensuring that nothing is left behind. Finally, you slide the key into the landlord’s mailbox, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new chapter.

As you navigate the road back home, he catches your gaze drifting to his leg, a subtle twitch betraying the discomfort he’s trying to conceal. Despite his efforts to mask the pain, he can tell you’ve seen through his facade.

“Does your leg hurt?” Your concern is palpable in the gentle tone of your voice. He hesitates, debating whether to offer a reassuring lie or admit to the discomfort gnawing at him. Ultimately, honesty wins out. “Yeah, a bit,” he confesses, unable to shield you from the truth.

Your hand ventures across the center console, landing on his thigh with a gentle, reassuring pressure that sends a jolt through him. As your fingers begin to work their magic, tracing soothing circles over his tense muscles, he feels his defenses weakening. Like an inferno ignited, desire surges within him, rendering him powerless to resist. A soft moan slips past his lips, betraying the overwhelming effect of your touch, and he knows he’s in trouble, especially while navigating the road ahead.

His mind is a whirlwind of forbidden desires, each touch of your hand stoking the flames of his longing. With every inch your hand inches closer, his body responds eagerly, aching for your touch. Yet, amidst the overwhelming urge, a voice of reason echoes in his mind, reminding him of the danger of indulging in such desires while driving. Despite the throbbing need coursing through him, he fights to suppress his carnal urges, knowing that some pleasures are too risky to pursue in the heat of the moment.

“Please stop,” his voice, a blend of desire and restraint, breaks the tension-filled silence, pleading for respite from the intoxicating allure of your touch. As your hand halts its tantalizing caress on his thigh, a palpable tension hangs in the air, his body yearning for the forbidden pleasure yet tempered by the awareness of the dangers lurking on the road ahead.

“I might lose focus on the road if you keep that up,” he confesses, his tone laced with a blend of restraint and longing, revealing the precarious balance between desire and responsibility. With each passing moment, the tantalizing temptation grows stronger, stirring a primal urge within him. For a fleeting instant, he entertains the reckless notion of pulling over, and just fucking you, like he really wants to do.

Jimin is rendered speechless as you glide through the doors, clad in the dress he picked out for you. The sight of you steals his breath away, igniting a fire within him that he struggles to contain. Your radiant smile lights up the room, and as your eyes meet his, it’s as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in an electric moment.

You take in the surroundings of the house, every detail seemingly more enchanting with Jimin by your side. As he gracefully pulls you into a slow dance, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless embrace. The warmth of his hand in yours and the genuine smile on your face envelop him in a sense of serenity, and for a moment, he’s lost in the beauty of the moment, captivated by the sight of you.

You sway together in the gentle rhythm of the music, but beneath the surface, a tempest of emotions rages within Jimin. With every step, he feels the magnetic pull towards you intensify, igniting a wildfire of desire that threatens to consume him whole. The urge to whisk you away upstairs, to pour out his heart, to share every secret and desire, is almost overpowering. Yet, in the midst of this intoxicating whirlwind, fear gnaws at him. This unbridled attraction, so fierce and undeniable, terrifies him in its intensity, for it’s unlike anything he's ever experienced before, and it’s already reshaping the very fabric of his emotions.

As his brother, Jungkook, sweeps in to ask you for a dance, Jimin’s eyes roll with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance. Reluctantly, he steps aside, letting you be whisked away into the arms of his sibling, though a flicker of jealousy ignites in his chest. As you twirl away with Jungkook, Jimin can’t help but feel a pang of insecurity, wondering if he’s made a mistake by relinquishing your presence, even if only for a dance.

Meanwhile, Jimin gracefully makes his way to the piano, a glint of determination in his eyes. He settles onto the bench, his fingers poised over the keys with a mixture of nerves and excitement. With a soft, thoughtful expression, he adjusts the volume of the music, letting the melody fill the room with a gentle ambiance. As he begins to play, his heart pours into the music, each note resonating with a depth of emotion that only he can truly understand. With a voice rich with sincerity, he sings a love song, his eyes flickering over to where you stand, hoping that you’ll appreciate the gesture.

In the midst of the music, Jimin wrestles with his own conflicting emotions. He knows he should muster the courage to express his feelings directly to you, to tell you that he’s head over heels in love. Yet, fear grips him, the fear of rejection, of vulnerability. Despite the undeniable connection he feels between you, he hesitates, unsure of how you’ll respond.

Instead, he lets the melody speak for him, allowing the heartfelt lyrics to convey the depth of his affection. With each tender note, he silently hopes that you’ll understand the message hidden within the music, the silent plea for your reciprocation.

Your expression betrays a mixture of surprise and curiosity as Jimin finishes his serenade. Without a word, he rises from the piano bench, his hand outstretched towards you, a silent invitation in his gaze. “Please, come with me,” he implores softly, his voice laced with an urgency that belies the calm exterior he tries to maintain. With a gentle yet firm grasp, he leads you towards the door, a sense of purpose driving his movements.

As he leads you outside, Jimin can feel the weight of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. This could be the moment, he thinks, the moment he finally lays his heart bare before you. Or perhaps he should start with something simpler, like asking you out on a date. But with every step that brings you closer to the secluded spot he has in mind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him uncertain of where to begin.

Now, with the night sky stretching out above you and the soft glow of moonlight casting shadows across your face, he finds himself unable to resist the pull of desire. With a sudden surge of courage, he pins you against the wall, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

His mind races like a speeding train, thoughts colliding and scattering in all directions, leaving him grasping for a coherent sentence. “Brothers talk,” he blurts out, cursing himself inwardly the instant the words leave his lips. Jungkook’s words about you after that night echo in his mind, a bitter reminder of a conversation he never wanted to have— he didn’t like hearing his brother talk about you like that. He wishes desperately to erase those words from his memory, to banish them to the darkest corners of his mind, but they linger like a stubborn stain, impossible to scrub away.

“I know you slept with Jungkook,” he murmurs into your ear, feeling the slight tremor that runs through your body. The tension crackles between you, a silent dialogue of unspoken words and hidden desires. He prays silently that you don’t harbor any strange fascination with brothers, because if you do, you’re in for disappointment. That’s not his thing.

“And I don’t mind. I like you,” he confesses, his words tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. Despite the discomfort of knowing about your past with his brother, he’s willing to look beyond it because his feelings for you outweigh any resentment. The image of you being reduced to a mere conquest by Jungkook leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he’s determined to move past it for the sake of what he feels for you.

“I like you too, Jimin,” you confess, and the weight of those words sends a surge of excitement through him. Finally, the confirmation he’s been yearning for, the green light to express what’s been building inside him for weeks. As he leans in to kiss you, anticipation electrifying the air, the door beside you swings open, and out steps his brother, wearing that infuriating grin. Damn it, Jungkook always manages to ruin the moment, the ultimate cock blocker.

You’ve been putting in long hours at the ranch alongside Yoongi, and he’s observed how effortlessly you’ve adapted to the work. He doesn’t mind the time you spend with Yoongi; after all, cultivating friendships here is important, and he’s glad to see you forming bonds in your new environment.

As he makes his way over to where you’re taming the wild horses, Jimin feels a surge of confidence coursing through him. Today feels like the right moment to finally muster the courage and ask you out on that long-awaited date.

He approaches, anticipation bubbling within him, but Jimin’s heart sinks like a stone at the sight before him. His steps falter as he witnesses your lips meeting Yoongi’s in an unexpected embrace. Shock and hurt intertwine within him, shattering the fragile hope he held of something blossoming between you both. It’s a painful echo of the moment he caught you with his brother, a wound reopened. With a heavy heart, he silently retreats, the weight of disappointment pulling him away.

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Jimin did notice the shock etched on your features. But confusion battles with hurt within him, a tumultuous storm raging in his heart. Was it betrayal he saw in your eyes? Or was it simply his own shattered illusions playing tricks on him? The thought gnaws at him—had you been toying with his feelings all along?

The memory of you with his brother burns like a brand, leaving him grappling with a cocktail of emotions, unable to discern truth from illusion.

You fucked his brother, maybe you want to fuck Yoongi too?

Though he hears your hurried footsteps behind him, he refuses to turn back, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Anger simmers within him, intertwined with a thread of sorrow, a tumult of emotions threatening to consume him. Frustration gnaws at him — frustration at you, frustration at himself for allowing himself to fall under your spell. For he realizes now, with painful clarity, that you hold the power to shatter his heart. And he can’t bear the thought of enduring such agony. It’s a bitter realization, but he knows he must protect himself. It’s better to walk away now, before the pain deepens any further.

“Jimin!” Your voice echoes urgently behind him, but he’s already near the door, his resolve hardening with each step. Maybe he can simply shut you out, ignore whatever explanation you might offer. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility of hearing you out, even as you grasp his arm, pleading, “Jimin, it’s not what it seems—I need to explain!”

He doesn’t want to hear it. There’s a strange ringing in his ears, drowning out your words. It’s as if his mind is adrift in a sea of chaos, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. Anger simmers beneath the surface, a volatile brew threatening to boil over. With a clenched jaw, he turns to face you. “You kissed Yoongi.” The words cut through the deafening silence like a knife, sharp and accusatory.

“No, I didn’t! He kissed me, and I didn’t want that. It meant nothing, okay?” Your words pierce through the heavy silence, but he’s not sure if he wants to believe them. He’s built a fortress around his heart, shielding it from any more pain. Watching you with his brother was hard enough, and now this? It’s not just the kiss itself that bothers him; it’s the unsettling feeling that you might be interested in anyone but him.

Since that kiss with Yoongi, he’s been nursing a hurt that gnaws at him relentlessly. Though he’s avoided speaking to you, he’s watched from a distance. Your once vibrant spirit now wears a cloak of sadness, but in Yoongi’s presence, you light up. It’s a comfort to see you finding solace, yet a pang of envy grips him. Watching you two together twists something deep inside him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Amidst the ache in his heart, he’s found himself seeking solace in familiar connections, even replying to texts from his former physiotherapist, Deiji.

Despite the gnawing guilt, he finds himself unable to bridge the growing chasm between you. The pain of witnessing your closeness with Yoongi ignites a jealousy that eclipses all rational thought. It’s not just about liking or loving you anymore; it’s about the exhausting cycle of feeling perpetually overlooked. He’s tired of being picked last.

Perhaps that’s why he extended the invitation to Deiji, fully aware that you and Yoongi would be there. In his mind, it’s a feeble attempt to feign indifference, a facade of moving on. He’s well aware of the pettiness of his actions, yet he’s powerless against the torrent of bitterness coursing through his veins.

He catches the glimmer of sadness in your eyes as they meet his across the bar, and a pang of unease twists in his stomach, a blend of hurt and confusion. He’s at a loss to comprehend why your gaze holds such sorrow when you’re evidently entwined with Yoongi. The sight of him enveloping you, a shield against the world, ignites a storm of resentment in Jimin’s gut.

Despite being officially with Deiji, a decision he’s uncertain about and made more out of a sense of emptiness than genuine interest, Jimin finds himself questioning his own actions. He doesn’t understand why he acquiesced when she asked to make things official; perhaps it was the notion that having someone, anyone, was better than facing the void alone. But the truth is, he doesn’t harbor strong feelings for Deiji. Aware of the wrongness of the situation, Jimin feels a gnawing guilt deep within him, a sense of moral turmoil that he can’t shake off.

And with every stolen glance in your direction, a reminder of his divided attention, he's torn between appeasing Deiji and grappling with the realization of what he truly desires.

Each day, you faithfully show up for work, your presence a constant in the familiar routine of taming the wild horses alongside Yoongi. Yet, with every shared moment you spend with him, Jimin can’t help but feel a surge of spite and jealousy coursing through him. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, the sight of you engrossed in your tasks, your laughter echoing in the stables, stirs up a tempest of conflicting emotions within him. It’s true, you appear happy, your smiles lighting up the barn, but beneath the surface, Jimin senses a lingering sadness, a hidden ache that eludes his understanding.

Even amidst the swirling chaos of his emotions, Jimin finds himself unable to muster the courage to speak to you. The turmoil within him is relentless, leaving him uncertain if he even wants to engage in conversation with you anymore. His feelings are a tangled web of confusion, rendering him utterly lost within himself. It’s as if he’s been thrown into a storm of his own making, unable to find solid ground amidst the tempest of his conflicted heart.

Even his own brother, in a rare moment of clarity, has acknowledged the messiness of the situation and urged him to confront it. Yet, Jimin finds himself grappling with the futility of such a conversation. What words could possibly bridge the chasm between you when you’re with Yoongi and he’s with Deiji? It’s a tangled web of relationships, each strand pulling them further apart with every passing moment.

Recently, Jimin has found himself consumed by jealousy, a venomous emotion that twists his thoughts and clouds his every interaction. He’s engulfed by an unrelenting anger — directed at you, at himself, at the cruel hand fate has dealt. Walking about with a perpetual scowl, he broods in silence, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of longing and resentment. Forced to collaborate with you by Jungkook, he remains mute, the weight of unspoken words suffocating him. Jimin, once eager to engage, now fears the irreparable chasm that has formed between you, the inevitable drift driving a wedge deeper with each passing day.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, your sister insists on throwing a party to mark the cast coming off. This entails a dinner, an event Jimin dreads. The thought of facing you, knowing Yoongi will also be present, fills him with apprehension. It’s been weeks, perhaps even months, since he’s exchanged a word with either of you, and the prospect of reconnecting amidst the festivity feels daunting.

He’s been avoiding you for what feels like forever, yet here he is, standing in your house with his girlfriend, desperately trying to hide the turmoil churning inside him. It’s not a physical demise, he knows he’s being overly dramatic, but the emotional anguish feels suffocating, overwhelming every inch of his being.

He stands there, silently seething as he watches Yoongi envelope you in his arms, whispering about how much he’s missed you. Anger courses through him like a torrent, mixing with a bitter taste of something unpalatable, leaving him with a nauseating sensation, as if he could vomit at any moment.

He averts his gaze, sensing the sudden fury emanating from you, though the reason eludes him. Desperately, he attempts to divert his attention to Deiji, but it’s futile; he can’t shake the feeling of longing for you, despite the turmoil raging within him. Every glance towards you is a reminder of the pain of seeing you with Yoongi, of his own inadequacy to confront or resolve the situation. He feels trapped in a cycle of longing and self-loathing, unable to break free from the grip of his own childishness.

You glide into the charity gala, a vision of elegance and grace that steals his breath away. He shouldn’t be captivated by you, shouldn’t be allowing his gaze to linger when he should be focusing on his date. Yet, Deiji’s waning interest in him is palpable, a silent testament to the growing chasm between them. He knows their relationship is crumbling, and he can’t blame her for growing weary of his constant pining for someone else. The truth is, he was never truly invested in Deiji; she was merely a placeholder, a feeble attempt to fill the void left by your unattainability. Now, as he watches you from across the room, radiant and out of reach, he realizes the magnitude of his mistake.

Despite dancing with his girlfriend, his eyes are drawn irresistibly to you, tracing every step you take as you glide across the dance floor with Hoseok, then Yoongi. Each moment is like a dagger to his heart, yet he can’t tear his gaze away. It’s masochistic, really, subjecting himself to the exquisite agony of watching you in Yoongi’s embrace, but he’s transfixed, unable to look away.

Without warning, your expression morphs into one of raw anger, fury emanating from every pore as you stride purposefully towards him. Your voice, sharp and cutting, pierces through the music as you demand, “Why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

Startled and taken aback, his heart skips a beat as your sudden outburst catches him off guard. Beneath the surprise, a tinge of sadness tugs at his heartstrings. He realizes he shouldn’t be so transfixed on you, yet despite his best efforts, he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away.

“Shouldn’t your eyes be on your girlfriend, huh? Why the fuck do you keep gazing at me? Look at your damn girlfriend!” Your words cut through him like a knife, and the accusation stings. He feels a knot of sadness twist in his stomach, grappling with confusion as to why you've suddenly turned hostile.

“And while you’re at it, why the fuck can’t you talk to me like a normal human being?” Your voice crescendos, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. Jimin feels a pang of shame, wanting to shrink away from your justified anger. You’re hitting too close to home—he knows he should have approached you like a mature adult.

“You’re a damn coward, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be casting your eyes my way when you have a girlfriend right there!” You jab a finger in Deiji’s direction, her displeasure evident, but Jimin can’t muster any concern for her feelings. His heart thuds erratically, a tumult of emotions swirling inside him, each one adding to the chaos. He knows you’re right, and it cuts him deeper than he’d like to admit—yeah, he’s a coward.

“You fucking jerk. If you had the decency to communicate, to use your damn voice instead of making baseless assumptions, we wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation!” You unleash your frustration at him, each word a sharp jab, and he flinches involuntarily. Deep down, he knows you’re right, but the weight of the misunderstanding presses heavily on his shoulders. He just doesn’t understand the situation. Yoongi steps in beside you, attempting to diffuse the tension, but Jimin feels his heart plummet to the floor nonetheless.

“I fucking hate you! You’re stupid. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I love you. I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” You unleash a torrent of emotions, your words cutting through the air like knives, and his eyes widen in shock. His heart races erratically, his confusion mirroring yours. Why would you confess your love for him while Yoongi stands right beside you? It’s madness, and he feels like he’s drowning in a sea of uncertainty and conflicting emotions.

“You fucking bastard. Stop looking at me like that,” you spit out, catching him off guard once more. Despite the tension, he can’t help but burst into laughter. It’s wrong, he knows, but there’s something absurdly amusing about the situation. As you glare at him, he can’t shake the thought that you look oddly cute when you’re angry.

“Stop laughing. This isn’t funny!” You stamp on the ground, your frustration palpable. Jimin feels a surge of conflicting emotions, his laughter fading as he clings to the weight of your confession. What does this mean? He longs to ask you why you’re unloading on him, but you refuse to let him get a word in edgewise.

“I don’t want to hear it! You know what? I’m done!” With a sharp spin, you pivot away, leaving Jimin in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate to understand your sudden eruption, he reaches out, his hand grasping for an explanation amidst the chaos.

“You can stick your dick where the sun doesn’t shine!” With fire in your eyes, you unleash the words directly into his face before storming out, leaving Jimin to face the fallout of your wrath. As the tension thickens in the air, all eyes turn to him, conveying their disapproval like daggers. Even Jimin finds himself grappling with the weight of his actions, acutely aware of the discord he’s sown.

Yoongi strides up to him, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You know you’re a real dick right?”

Jimin’s jaw drops, the shock of Yoongi’s words reverberating through him like a sudden bolt of lightning. Never before has he witnessed this side of Yoongi, and the revelation leaves him utterly stunned, his mind reeling with disbelief.

“Why don’t you scuttle off to your precious girlfriend?” Jimin’s words slice through the air like venom, his anger bubbling to the surface with an intensity that threatens to consume him entirely.

Yoongi scoffs incredulously, “Girlfriend?” His steps carry him closer to Jimin, his voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You really think she’s my girlfriend, huh? Is that what’s been fueling your jerkish behavior?”

Jimin’s lips part, ready to offer a retort, but before he can utter a word, Yoongi closes the distance between them until their breaths mingle in the charged air. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he declares, his voice low and tinged with frustration, “I’m gay, you fucking idiot.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in disbelief as Yoongi’s words hang heavy in the air. Then, as Yoongi exits, a whirlwind of emotions sweeps through Jimin’s being, leaving him teetering between confusion and a surge of unexpected elation.

But hold on, that means that all this while he thought you were together with Yoongi, you were in fact mad at him?

Fuck.

Deiji ended things with him, and he can’t blame her. He realizes now that he wasn’t truly invested in her or the relationship. In hindsight, it’s clear that it was the right decision for both of them.

He’s made an absolute mess of things, and now he’s left with the daunting task of picking up the shattered pieces and piecing them back together again.

He realizes the first step towards redemption is owning up to his missteps and extending genuine apologies for the havoc his actions have caused.

Your expression betrays confusion when he offers to aid in the search for Mikrokosmos, yet deep down, he yearns for the chance to finally unravel the tangled threads of misunderstanding between you. He carries the weight of knowing he should have initiated this conversation long before, but he’s here now, determined to mend what’s broken and bridge the chasm that’s formed between you.

He’s overwhelmed with gratitude as you lend him your ear, and when you extend an apology for your own actions—a gesture he feels unworthy of—he’s humbled. He recognizes he was the one in the wrong, and while he does offer his apologies, he feels they fall short of expressing the depth of his remorse. He struggles to find the words to convey just how profoundly sorry he is. In your presence, he’s painfully aware of his own shortcomings, yet he’s also grateful for the stark contrast of your unwavering kindness, a stark reminder of the person he aspires to be.

As you tenderly trace the lines of his scars with reverence, he feels something inside him fracture, but it’s not pain—it’s the barriers he’s built around his heart, crumbling in the face of your genuine affection. Never before has anyone shown such care and admiration for him in this intimate way. In that moment, his heart swells with a love so profound it threatens to overflow. In your presence, he finds a sense of completeness he’s never known before. Truly, you are the embodiment of sweetness and kindness, and he’s endlessly grateful to have you in his life.

He’s acutely aware that you deserve far better than him. In your unwavering sweetness and kindness, you shine as a beacon of light in his tumultuous world. Despite the countless times he’s put you through turmoil, you continue to stand by his side, unwavering in your commitment. A part of him struggles to comprehend why someone as remarkable as you would choose to be with someone as flawed as him. He can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t deserve a woman of your caliber.

As the blissful days turn into months and the connection between you deepens, it feels as though you’ve been together for a lifetime. It’s this profound sense of certainty that drives him to purchase a ring for you, a symbol of his unwavering devotion. From the depths of his childhood dreams, he’s always known, without a shadow of doubt, that you were the one meant for him.

Fucking hell.

Just when everything seems to be falling into place, Deiji unexpectedly resurfaces, bearing news that shatters the delicate balance of his newfound happiness—she’s pregnant. The weight of her revelation hits him like a ton of bricks, threatening to unravel the life he’s worked so hard to build. While she insists the child is his, he’s consumed by doubt, unable to find any concrete evidence to support her claim. Yet, in the midst of his turmoil, his gaze is drawn to you, and the anguish etched on your face speaks volumes. Despite the chaos swirling around him, he can’t ignore the palpable pain this situation is causing you.

He longs for the prospect of fatherhood, but the thought of having children with Deiji is a nightmare he can’t bear to entertain. If he were to embark on the journey of parenthood, he envisions it with you by his side. Yet, he’s keenly aware of your own hesitations or perhaps lack of desire for children, and he deeply respects your stance on the matter.

Damn, this just became a whole lot more complicated. But amidst the chaos, his resolve remains unwavering—he’s determined to be present for his child, and for you, no matter what. With every update Deiji shares, whether it’s pictures or ultrasounds of the baby, he makes a conscious effort to include you, recognizing the importance of keeping you informed and involved every step of the way.

However, he can’t help but notice the growing distance between you, and it’s a pain that cuts him to the core. The dilemma gnaws at him relentlessly—he’s torn between wanting to cherish both you and his impending child, yet he’s at a loss as to how to navigate the chasm that’s formed between you.

“I really think it’s best to break up,” you repeat, and he’s gripped by a suffocating sense of disbelief, as if trapped in a nightmare he desperately wishes to escape. How can you say this? The love he feels for you surges through him like a relentless tide, and the mere thought of breaking up is unbearable. Doesn’t your heart ache at the idea of leaving? Doesn’t love still reside within you?

“But I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” he pleads with a raw desperation, his heart laid bare before you. Every fiber of his being is consumed by love for you. Can’t you see? Can’t you feel the weight of his devotion?

“I know, I don’t want to lose you either. But as much as it pains me, I can’t go on like this. I need to break up,” your voice cracks, and his heart shatters into a million fragments. Both of you are unwilling to part ways, yet he's come to recognize the toll his situation with his child has taken on you, perhaps far more than he initially comprehended. Ultimately, he realizes he can't compel you to remain by his side, even as the agony of separation tears him apart.

“If that’s truly what you want,” he says, his voice strained with emotion as he struggles to form the words, “then I... I understand.” Each syllable feels like a weight upon his chest, threatening to suffocate him as he resigns himself to the heartbreaking reality of your decision.

“It is,” you confirm with a heavy finality, and in that moment, his heart shatters into a million irreparable fragments, scattered across the floor like the remnants of a shattered dream as you walk away.

Ever since you broke up, a sickness gnaws at him, but he desperately clings to the impending arrival of his child as a beacon of hope. Yet, intertwined with the anticipation is a bitter realization—he’s lost you, and it leaves a repugnant taste lingering in his mouth. He never wanted to be forced into a choice, yet it seems he inadvertently prioritized his impending fatherhood over you, a decision that fills him with self-loathing. Deep down, all he truly yearns for is to be by your side once more.

Every time his gaze falls upon you, your face is etched with profound sadness, and he’s torn between offering you the solace of space or the comfort of his presence. Though you still exchange words sporadically, the connection you once shared feels like a distant memory, a mere echo of what once was.

The ache of missing you consumes him, a relentless longing that claws at his heart. He yearns for nothing more than to be reunited with you, to reclaim the bond you once shared. But the weight of the situation crushes him under its unbearable pressure. Should he forsake his child for the chance to have you back? The mere thought is agonizing, a cruel dilemma tearing him apart at the seams. He’s trapped in a labyrinth of pain, unable to discern a way out of the turmoil engulfing him.

Fuck.

Reflecting on the myriad mistakes he’s made sends a searing pain coursing through his heart, each misstep a haunting reminder of the turmoil he’s inflicted upon you. The weight of his transgressions feels crushing, almost unbearable, yet amidst the wreckage of his past, one truth remains steadfast—you loved him, despite it all. Perhaps you still do, but the uncertainty gnaws at him like a relentless beast. Yet, in the depths of his remorse, his love for you burns bright and unwavering. He’s determined to find a way to convey his unwavering desire to win back your love, to fight for the chance to make things right and rebuild what was once lost.

That’s precisely why tears cascade down onto the paper as he pours his heart out in the letter destined for you.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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littlemisslipbalm · 8 months

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Demonology

Part 2: Unholy Affliction

Series Summary: A new demon has come to Nashville. Josh and Jake's ways of life have been thrown off by her arrival. The angel and demon have lived with an understanding of one another, but with Y/N stirring up trouble and asking questions, they're forced to work out a new normal. And why is she so powerful for a human turned demon anyway, that's unusual, right?

A/N: hiiii heres part 2!!! Pls like comment and reblog bc it helps and makes me happy to hear what you think! Also I’ve added a taglist form so add yourself to that and I’ll make sure you get tagged from now on! Happy reading <3

Summary: Y/N finally runs into the demon named Jake. What a night!

Word Count: 4.8k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, 18+ descriptions of sex (no explicit smut yet), demon!jake ayo, i think that’s it

Taglist | Series Masterpost

Part Two: Unholy Affliction

She didn’t run into the odd angel and demon duo for two months. After the brief encounter outside of the speakeasy with both of them, nothing. She was enduring her second life back on Earth as best as could be expected as someone with little to no knowledge about the modern world with no one but her dog to talk to about things that really mattered. She insisted to Rori as they lounged around the apartment that she was having fun as he stared at her dubiously.

She’d be more than damned to be upset that the other demon hadn’t come to find her. He probably thought he was too good for her or just didn’t care about her. Well, she definitely didn’t care. She didn’t need him to help her. Making trouble came easily to her. It was just everything else about being in this world that was hard.

It was an accident when she finally bumped into him. At least, it was by accident for her. She had chosen to take the long way home from the bar she had made hers for the night. Swirling around to music she blared from the phone she’d picked up after a few weeks, Rori ran circles around her howling into the night. She sang along to the music and danced, staring at the waxing moon. Mostly alone, but she felt mostly alive. Wasn’t a total loss.

She paid no attention to her surroundings. It was so late on a back road, it was unlikely anyone would be around and if they were around, she would make them sorry they bothered her.

“Is this all you do then?” A voice from the shadows inquired.

She recognized it immediately. She’d hung onto his voice as one of the few pieces of information she had about this ancient demon. Jake. Seemed silly to her that he didn’t have a more hellish name. It was practically still an altar boy’s name–she should use that on him if he said something really rude.

She stops the music and her movements, coming to a complete standstill. “Jake.”

He saunters out of the shadows, messing with his hair. He stares at her, waiting for an answer.

“How do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes and gestures his hand to her body. “Party. Cause a little trouble. Get drunk. Wander home alone.” Sad.

She laughs, certain he was kidding, and choosing to ignore the stab in her chest she felt at the word ‘alone’. “I have my—Isn’t that the job?”

“Just the trouble part. But altering bars to your liking doesn’t really fulfill that. There’s a lot of ways to get the job done even if your specialties are seduction and desire…”

He narrowed his eyes at the end of his sentence. Jake thought she was silly. He didn’t take his job very seriously but he also couldn’t stand to see someone doing it differently than him.

She didn’t feel shame but a certain strangeness about the fact that Josh had clearly talked about their night at the speakeasy to Jake.

“You seem too young to be sent up to the big leagues. Nepo baby?”

“What baby? I don’t even know what that means.”

Jake sighs in exasperation.

“Nepotism was around in the 70s before they dragged you down to Hell, yeah? A practice among those in power to give special preference to relatives. Erh,” Jake tried to think of a reference she might know. “Whatever. Forget it.”

This was the third thing he added to the growing list of ways she seemed to be struggling in the modern world. This, the bars and how she wasn’t taking advantage of online ordering—he definitely hadn’t been spying on her these last two months, he just may have stopped by her place a few times. Just to see if she’d had her earthly access revoked or not.

Jake tilts his head and his cheekbones catch in the light. He was a handsome demon. She liked his longer hair, reminding her of the boys back in the day. His brown eyes were sweet like his angel counterpart’s, but the yellow ones she had seen the other day had sent a shiver down her spine.

“If I’m doing the job so wrong, why has it taken you this long to tell me? Maybe if you guided me or gave me information I could do the devil’s will a little better?” She tried to keep the unfamiliar nerves growing in her stomach away.

“It’s not in my interests to help you, per say.” He gestures a hand out towards the road she had been traveling, wanting them to keep walking. “But, unofficially, you're doing the afterlife life so wrong it's hurting my no good soul.”

She falls into step with him, still watching him as he disregards her, pulling his sunglasses back over his eyes. “True demons have souls?”

“My consciousness, whatever that I am, it doesn’t really matter what you call it. Just is the easiest term.” He grumbles.

She smiles at his frustration with her. “So you’re gonna mentor me?” Her voice was relaxed, but she couldn’t hide the truth from herself. She wanted more than anything to have some guidance from Jake. He seemed to know what he was doing and while she denied it, she did feel unfulfilled so far.

“I guess… It’ll get Josh off my back about your fiddling with the swing of the bars.”

“You listen to your angel brother? And it’s really nothing, I don’t know why both of you keep bringing it up!”

“Because people!” Jake stops, raising his voice shakily. He takes hold of her shoulders. “People have been talking about it. The first lesson of demonology is to make sure your work goes unnoticed. Evil is insidious. It doesn’t knock at the door or even bust it off its hinges, it seeps through the cracks, uninvited and unannounced until it's too late.”

She’s alight at his touch. His hands are fire against her exposed skin that had cooled in the night air. He is literally steaming with passion and she can feel it falling off of him. She feeds off of it. Her eyes stare up into his unreadable face. His lips are parted in a perfect cupid’s bow–reminiscent of his angel origins.

“And I don’t listen to Josh. It’s just impossible to get him to shut up.”

She sighs, waving her hand at Rori who had returned from running ahead when he realized the two demons weren’t behind him anymore.

“But why does Josh care?”

“Because,” Jake shakes his head, letting go of her arms and starting to walk again. “If enough people get talking about it, then the Upstairs will eventually get a hold of it and ask Josh why he hasn’t put a stop to it.”

She’s still confused. “And?”

“For fuck’s sake…And Josh and I have a deal where we don’t step on each other’s toes. We do enough good and enough bad–at least, it had been enough–to keep the ones in charge satisfied. You’re fucking it up for both of us. Making us work.”

“It kind of sounds like what I’m doing is actually fine and you two are just mad because you don’t want to deal with it.”

They reach a black door with a lamp to the right of it, illuminating the address number ‘666’. She stares between him and the number, tapping her nose. Jake shakes his head, twisting the door handle and grumbling something about how it was establishment-issued. The sound of the lock undoing itself is heard from inside the wall.

He opens the door and responds indignantly. “Nuh-uh.”

She laughs. “Uh-huh…No wonder Hell sent me up here. You’re slacking!”

She follows him down the long dark entryway through an arch that opened into a 70s style conversation pit, completely carpeted in navy blue. The color of a deep night sky with only a few stars to keep it lit.

“What do you expect? I’m a demon. Thousands of years old, I’ve paid my fucking dues.”

There’s a bottle of whiskey open on the coffee table in the center, half drank. In a blink of an eye, they both have full glasses in their hands. Jake doesn’t offer a salutation and drinks slowly from the glass and proceeds to remove his sunglasses. His eyes flicker between brown and yellow several times when they return to Y/N. He swore he’d seen her before.

“Plus, the humans are so much better at thinking up evil shit to do. Things I’d never even dream up.” He relaxes into his seating, looking altogether like he belonged here. Far more than he did in Heaven or Hell.

She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on top while she takes a sip of the expensive looking liquor. She was trying to keep her eyes on Jake and her immediate surroundings rather than staring around the place with wandering eyes. It was expansive, filled with trinkets that looked older than most of the modern world, mixed in with incredible paintings and lavish decor. No house she’d been in had been this beautiful and some had been rockstar’s homes. Then again, she never had much time or lucidity to look around those places.

Pointedly, she stared at Jake instead of the room. He had seen through her as a newbie with no real clue what she was supposed to do. She didn’t want to seem fazed by a little interior design.

“So what do you do instead of Hell’s wishes?”

“Play my guitar mostly,” Jake shrugs. “Then I write up a report on whatever shitty things humans have done in the last month and send it down to Hell as my deeds.”

“You’re a musician too,” Her eyes lit up, her humanity slipping to the surface. “Tell me you play real music. Not the garbage that comes out of all the stereos around here.”

Jake’s laugh is loud and obnoxious but she likes it.

“It’s not all bad but I know what you mean. Nothing like the 70s around these days. Bet you would’ve liked the 90s though…There was some fantastic rock.”

She moves closer to him, eager for Jake to talk about something she liked and cared about. He could be someone who could guide her and converse with. He shifts a little bit away from her and she tilts her head in confusion.

Jake nods at her as he swallows more of his whiskey.

“I heard you succeeded in tempting Josh.”

“Not really,” She shrugs, immediately knowing why Jake was keeping his distance.

“Josh letting a demon kiss him to show him mystical porn…” Jake chuckles darkly. “That’s plenty of success.”

“He’s challenging.” She tried to keep hurt out of her voice, but considering she hadn’t seen Josh either she wondered if she’d really scared him off. “Everyone else is too easy around here—and gross.”

Jake smirks. “It’s very impressive for such a minor demon to have gotten that far with an angel like Josh.”

“It seems like you’ve had a corrupting influence on him,” she pushed back.

“Well, yeah. But I’ve never macked on him in a speakeasy dressed like that.” Jake’s eyes wander over her figure. She wasn’t wearing the same thing as she had with Josh, but it communicated the same thing. All black, low cut and high cut all at once, and the carnelian necklace, glowing like a beacon.

“I could make that happen for you two, if you wanted.”

“I do not want that. At all.”

“Just checking. You sound kind of jealous.”

Jake shakes his head at her. “You’re rotten.”

He couldn’t quite puzzle her out. She wasn’t like other demons he’d come into contact with over the years. They were solitary creatures and wretched. She wanted companionship, which was particularly human. And while she was good at the evil stuff, her desire for interaction and connection seemed to outweigh what should be her main prerogative: devilish destruction.

She wanted to hear about his music rather than talk about how she’d almost successfully tempted an angel, for Satan's sake. Half the demons he knew barely registered music as an instrument of demonic work, much less took pleasure in it.

“What were you doing in the 60s and 70s,” She asks.

Jake smiled, memories flashing before his eyes immediately. His eyes go yellow at the question and she realizes it’s kind of like him closing his eyes. Like an internal eyelid or something. Something inhuman.

Disraeli Gears began to spin on a record player somewhere in the room and her smile matched Jake’s.

“Cream was my favorite band back then. Clapton, he was the man.”

“I’m more of a George Harrison gal when it comes to British guitarists,” she says dreamily. “I saw Cream at the Troubadour when they were just starting out. But the Doors were more my style. Zeppelin, Stones and Hendrix too. God, those guys were something.”

“You were in the music scene?” Josh had said she was from Los Angeles. He hadn’t been specific about what she did.

She finished her drink and held out the glass for more. Jake just stared at it and suddenly the glass was full again. She grinned, taking a sip with a nod of appreciation.

“Yeah. It’s what got me on the devil’s list. Sleeping with singers and doing way too many drugs. Started sneaking backstage when I was 15 and getting into trouble started about the second I walked through the door.”

Jake nodded with reverence. Her expertise made sense. Why she was so powerful, still unanswered. He finished his second glass and switched to the bottle, deciding to settle in for the night that was quickly becoming morning.

The demons went back and forth, retelling ridiculous stories from the time where their lives first overlapped. Jake’s bad fashion choices. Her terrible taste in men. Jake’s inventions of evil. Their shared expensive taste for party drugs and liquor.

The first whiskey and a second bottle were gone after a few hours and they were sprawled on the navy floor. She ran her hands along the soft carpet.

“Thanks for finally coming to see me. Thought you hated me,” she murmurs.

“I hate two things in this world: Justin Bieber and global warming. I jus’ was worried you’d get me in trouble when you first got here. Needed to know if you were a snitch or not.”

She nods. Jake nods back, shutting his eyes fully.

“Wait. Who’s Justin Bieber?”

Jake cackles. “I keep forgetting you know practically nothing about what’s happened in the last 50 years. You’re like a child.”

Her eyes flash black at Jake’s teasing. Her defenses went up at any sign of embarrassment, but her head was swimming in brown liquor. She barely managed to sit up and stare meanly at him. With his eyes still closed, he didn’t even take notice. Though he heard her huff unhappily and it made him grin.

“That why you need a friend? To show you the ropes of modern life?” He pushes himself up to lean on his hands. It was like he had seen inside her mind. “You kind of got sent back at a shit time. Sorry.”

If she could still feel true shame, she might have blushed, but her body didn’t work like that anymore. Instead her eyes stayed black and her hair reddened.

“Am I hitting a nerve?” Jake chuckles again, his cruel nature peeking out at her obvious discomfort, and his eyes flick yellow. “You’re lonely?”

She huffs, feeling the liquor fueling a growing anger. Where was her blood-sucking dog when she needed him? Actually, she wasn’t sure if demon’s like Jake would bleed so maybe it was good Rori stuck to the shadows—i.e. gone to bed.

“No.”

“You can’t lie to me, Sal.”

The name she gave to Josh sticks in Jake’s voice. It’s an accusation. He knew. How.

“I’ve been lying longer than you’ve existed. I can see a liar coming from off in the harbor.” Jake continues, his jeering laugh makes her skin crawl. It’s like he’d slipped into a different part of himself. Different, but still clearly Jake. “You never asked about my speciality.”

She had a feeling he’d tell her. Wherever he had gone to with his eyes stuck in their horrifying yellow form, he was in charge for the time being.

“Tricksters, thieves and gluttons. Used to have lechery, but it got boring.”

“I didn’t get to choose,” she mumbles. She had drawn her knees up to her chest again, feeling some semblance of anxiety.

Jake’s eyes flicked back to brown and his smirk turned to a frown. “You didn’t get to choose?”

“Do human-demons normally get to choose?”

“Humans don’t normally become demons,” Jake corrects. “But no matter, you’re supposed to choose.”

“I don’t know what else I would’ve chosen besides what I got, I guess. It’s just not something I’m actually passionate about.” She laughs at the irony. “I don’t want to sleep with just anybody anymore. I already did that. I just want to have a good time on my terms this time.”

He smirked with a little surprised laugh. “You’re sweet on my angel brother aren’t you? His pristine feathers got under your skin.”

She was about to deny it when she remembered what had just happened when she’d lied to him.

“I like a challenge. That doesn’t mean I’m only interested in him…But I need a bit of a game.”

Jake knew what she was saying. She knew it. Their almost drunken fight was forgotten. The subject matter moving along to something they had clearly been avoiding all night. Their desire. She liked the power Jake exuded, even if it scared her a little too. She wanted to see if she could get him, too.

Jake rolls his eyes and motions for her to come closer. “I bet you can’t get into my mind. Nothing you could show me could sway me into sleeping with you. How’s that for a challenge?”

She smiled. “But don’t you want to sleep with me?”

“Says who?” He spread his legs, his knees bowed out wide. He motioned for her to take a seat on top of him. “I could make myself look like Josh if you’d like. All I’ve got to change is the hair, our faces are the same. I know he’s been avoiding you.”

He switches from ambivalent to cruel between sentences and she can’t find her footing. She swings her left leg over his body, settling into his lap. Her hands instinctively went to his chest as he stared up at her. He was a challenge in a different way to his angel brother.

“Okay, lay the thoughts on me,” Jake puts a hand on her shoulder when she leans in, a knowing smirk on his lips. “And I know you don’t actually need to kiss me to transfer them. There just has to be some form of skin to skin contact.”

She huffs in annoyance. “Spoil sport.”

Jake laughs. “Go on, giddy up, girl.”

She narrows her eyes at him, allowing them to slip to black as she raises her fingers to Jake’s temples. Her hands slink into his hair and take a rough grasp of his roots. He grunts in mild discomfort, but maintains his challenging stare, lowering his hands to her hips to keep her still.

Her eyelids flicker like her eyes are rolling back in her head, but the spheres of inky black don’t change. Jake watches with tempered interest, seeing her process.

Then his vision shifts, leaving his comfortable living room, it's cloudy, murky like a foggy night out on the ocean. It’s still familiar to him. Her figure appears through the mist, shifting with the fog. She steps closer to Jake and he now hears the lapping of the ocean and tastes the salt of the oceanair on his lips. She’d found a memory of one of his ships and made it the setting for this temptation.

‘Your fantasies are all nautical themed,’ She speaks in his mind, her tone is curious. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be seducing me?’

‘Yeah, but I still have questions.’

Jake laughs inside his head and he hates the way he doesn’t hate her presence there and then he wonders if she can feel that feeling. This was new for him.

The scene rocks melodically back and forth upon waves and a beautiful blue light descends on the room he begins to see. She’s a figure at the corner of it, leaning against a door, the entire room is cozy and she is surprised by the care that seems to exude from this recess of Jake’s mind.

There’s a cool breeze, but overall the room is warm and Jake is sat leaning back upon the bed while he watches her approach.

‘I don’t see anything.’ She murmurs. Jake feels a ripple in the vision, a strange dichotomy of the faux images she’s showing him and the plane of reality their physical bodies are existing on. She’s pressing harder into his real skin, in his living room, talking aloud.

Jake says nothing.

‘I know you have carnal desires, I can sense them,’ she continues. ‘Why are they so vague?’

In the vision, she has sat beside Jake now, staring at him. She looks a little different in the vision than how he has seen her physical body. Her hair is duller, her body weaker, she looks far more human to Jake. Still beautiful and sensual, but he wonders if maybe she cannot change the image of her soul in the ether as easily as she can on Earth.

She is wearing a deep blue slip, the first time he’s seen her in a color other than black. He moves in the vision and her eyes widen, confused that he has autonomy in something she is meant to control. He brushes at her hair, allowing his hand to gently trail her face and neck.

‘I usually like to pleasure my partner. I like to give them what they want.’

She stares at him intently, feeling a shiver in her spine once more. Out of control.

‘Your big wide eyes, you’re like a helpless bug, even here. All confused why you’re not in control, showing me my deepest, darkest desires.’

She focuses harder on her task, searching through the wisps of memory in Jake’s mind. Like Josh, he had only allowed her into a small portion of his mind, but a small portion of an ancient creature was still cavernous. She flipped through the images in search of concrete memories rather than memories of desire. Memories of times when he had felt fulfilled, she saw him curled around beautiful women, sometimes strong and sometimes meek and she was surprised. He didn’t seem like the one to be soft in the bedroom, but she remembered his remark of giving what his partners wanted.

‘You’re barely a demon. Still practically an angel.’ She mutters, feeling discomfort when watching the scenes of him with other people for some reason.

‘I am not.’ His voice is warning. She doesn’t press.

She kept digging, still unsure what to do to show him something that would tempt him. Images of him in bed alone surface after a while and she pushes harder, looking for the thoughts that had been in his head at that time. She looked for what he imagined when his hand was slipping around himself in the dark. The thoughts that made his breath quicken and his stomach shudder. Finally.

She shifted the image, her figure below Jake and she feels a strange sort of deja vu. The Jake in the scene was over her and she was moaning the usual obscenities as his hair rocked around her. Jake’s actual consciousness was unimpressed.

‘So sometimes I like it a little vanilla, so what? You’re still not convincing me to crave you, demoness.’

‘Your mind is strange. Hard to navigate, I guess.’

Vision Jake leans down to kiss her with a hum. ‘I like that.’

She shifts the scene, unhappy with him messing with her again. She shows them together in a few different positions and she feels herself pulling from the things she had shown Josh, hoping Jake couldn’t tell. She also shows Jake a scene of him between her thighs and she hears him groan, making her feel a little accomplished.

The final scene, she had been holding onto in hopes that she would’ve flustered him enough before having to show it to him. It was risky, even for her. He was a strong demon and this could make him more upset than aroused. But if he hadn’t wanted her to access the idea, he should’ve been more careful.

They’re in a beautiful room, draped in red and flooded with moonlight. She straddles Jake’s hips and she rocks back and forth on him. He hums as she runs her hands over every curve of his face, down his neck and across his shoulders. Then she speaks to him, her lips pressed against the curve of his ear, soft and insistent.

‘You do not have to be good to be loved.’ She felt Jake push at her presence, but she continued, kissing at his sweaty skin. ‘You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.’

She kisses him deeply on the lips and vision Jake relents, giving in to her touch. Letting it consume him, he gets lost in the imagined moment, pulling her figure closer, wanting them to meld into one. In the vision, it’s almost as if they do, their souls twisting and touching in a way so foreign to the material world she was alight in a way she never had been before.

In his living room, she releases his head and her eyes flicker back to their regular color. Jake’s hands are strong, keeping her close as he blinks back to the physical plane.

“How did you know to say that?” Jake breathes, feeling slightly off, but knowing he wanted Y/N here. “How did you see that?”

She feels the intensity of Jake’s question. “It was in a memory. You read the poem and then went to bed.”

Jake nodded, still staring at her face but not quite her eyes, wanting her to continue.

“I felt how happy you were that night when you came. The only thing different from other nights was that poem. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“Don’t ever speak of that to anyone. Do you understand me?” His fingers were burning at her sides.

“I would never.” Her voice is sincere. She worries her lip, unsure if she should say what’s really on her mind. “I meant it.”

Jake looks up at her eyes for the first time since they had come out of the vision. “What?”

She traces under his eyes gingerly with her thumbs, scared of him pushing her away. “I understand why you like the poem so much. I like it too. So, I meant it...You can tell me about your despair, and I will tell you mine.”

She pauses, watching Jake’s blank expression.

“If you want. Challenge, everything, aside. I am a demon but I am also still a girl inside somewhere. Both exist within me and I don’t even like the demon stuff all that much. I’ve had 50 years to realize just how much I wish I’d done it all differently. Maybe I wouldn’t be seducing strangers as some sort of living dead eternal 27 year old. Maybe I could’ve been alive somewhere else right now, withering with a long line of family to love me as I died slowly.”

“Oh fucking hell,” Jake sighs, releasing a hand to twirl a finger through her hair. .

“What?”

“You’re fucking brilliant,” He shakes his hair out and then presses his lips against her just like he had in the vision. “You win,” He mumbles against her lips.

She kisses him back, her arms snaking around his neck. “It wasn’t a gimmick. I’m serious.”

“I know, and you win. Sincerity,” Jake moves his lips to kiss along her jaw. “Is extremely sexy, in a world where almost nothing is true. Fuck. You’re so soft.”

She grinned up at the ceiling, befuddled but excited.

“Do those people even know the gift they were getting when you went home with them?” His voice shakes with passion and desire. She’s certain this is not from her usual influence. Her powers hadn’t worked on Jake at all.

Jake was practically worshiping her because she was herself. Because she had found a real piece of him and shown it to him and connected with it. It felt better than any meaningless hookup she’d had before. Jake, the demon who had criticized her, was the gentlest lover she’d ever had. The sweetest soul she’d ever connected with. It felt so good to be seen.

To be continued….

let me know what you think

Taglist: @joshysgirl @ofthecaravel

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nekoannie-chan · 11 months

Text

Signals

Title: Signals.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 436 words.

Rating: Teen.

Square: I1 Oblivious to lovers.

Summary: You love Steve and Steve loves you, none of you know each other feelings.

Warnings/Tags: Miscommunication, happy ending, fluff.

A/N: This is my entry to @allcapsbingo AC1078.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga

You offered Steve the biggest slice of the cake; you had saved it, especially for him. In fact, you had to give a few hand slaps to the others to prevent them from taking it.

He smiled at you when you gave it to him, although it could be a bit desperate that Steve didn't understand your hints regarding your feelings for him since, since you didn't dare to tell him, you showed them to him with small acts.

"Well, my advice is that you tell him, come on, Y/N, Steve is..."

"He is?" "If you know something, Natasha, you better tell me what you know, so I know whether I'm still trying or not."

"Just tell him how you feel; he's not the smartest person that way either, and I'm sure he hasn't figured anything out."

You arrived at your office; however, when you opened the door, you were confused to see the flowers on your desk. You hadn't put them there, so who had sent them?

You approached them and looked for the card; there was supposed to be one there, but there was nothing. You even looked under the desk; maybe it had fallen underneath; there was no trace of the card.

What struck you most was that they were your favorite flowers.

When Steve saw you, he smiled; it looked like you liked his gift, although he was disappointed that you didn't say anything about it.

You saw Steve eating the cookies you had baked for him, but he didn't say anything. You were starting to get tired of the situation, so you decided it was time to tell him that Natasha was right.

You wanted to solve the situation once and for all—to know if he loved you back or if it was better to forget about him.

You approached him and started to talk, but he didn't seem to understand anything, so you thought it was the right time.

"You know, Steve, I've had enough, so I'll just say it: I like you; I'm in love with you," you confessed; he looked at you as if he didn't understand; you sighed; maybe that was the answer. "Well, now that I've said it, I'll go."

You headed towards the exit, but he stopped you, putting one of his hands on your shoulder. "The flowers, I sent them to you, but I forgot to ask for a card," then he made you turn around and kissed you.

After all, neither of you realized that you were in love, but you were glad you had taken the first step.

#allcapsbingo #allcapsbingo2023 #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader

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kikufuku01 · 1 year

Text

I Love You Always

Sukuna x Reader

Part 10 Dancing on Your Own ♡ ♡ ♡ Part 11 Toxic in You series m. list

Reblogs likes and comments are appreciated!

Taglist is open, just message me if you'd like to be tagged in upcoming posts! Must be 18+!

It hasn’t been the same since. Sukuna acts like he’s fine with you when you’re around the others, but now his eyes don’t linger on you. He barely starts a conversation with you, shit, he talks to Kazuya more than he does with you. Kaede thought it was weird but you told her it was nothing. Just friends outgrowing each other due to hanging out too much in the past. They don’t seem exclusive yet either, so it’s safe to say that they’re still talking? You don’t know, but you’ve been trying to drown yourself in Kazuya as much as possible. You’ve been ditching Kaede’s group invites, saying that you and Kazuya were already busy, and when he’d try to join them, you would tell him to give them some space.

Another thing is, you’re completely dreading today. It just feels like it’s gonna be a bad day. You’re pushing the cart around the store with an empty mind while your mom adds things in. She’s on the phone with your dad, talking about work or whatever, so you’re just left alone to follow aimlessly.

“Did you want this, sweetheart?”

She’s holding a pack of Himemaru rice crackers in the air to get your attention. You barely look at them, “sure.”

Just like that, she drops them in the cart and continues her conversation on the phone. Nothing in particular catches your attention since you don’t seem to have much of an appetite lately. You wouldn’t call it depression either, that’d be going overboard. You just miss how things were before.

Your mom taps your arm, “are you alright these days? You’re not grabbing all the snacks you usually eat.”

“I’m on a diet,” you lie, turning into the next aisle.

She stops you right there and crosses her arms, a worried look in her eyes. They search you for answers before she opens her mouth again, “you know, before I was afraid you were eating too much and now…”

Her nervous smile quivers, “you’re not eating and it’s a drastic change. These are also signs of pregnancy, sweetheart. You’ve been going out a lot and staying out during late hours, I’m afraid of what you’ve been doing.”

“Mom–”

“I’m not stupid. I was your age once too, you know. I know that you’re having fun, but I just wish for you to be safe. Your father hasn’t caught on, but I am concerned. How about after we shop, I take you to the clinic to get a checkup?”

“I haven’t done those things yet, so there’s nothing to be scared of. We’ll just waste our time going over there.”

The attitude in your tone takes your mom by surprise but she nods in defeat, “you sound like you’re telling the truth, then.”

You stick your tongue out at her to lighten the mood, “let’s just finish this up and go back home.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Your dad has been walking on eggshells around you as well over the last few months. He doesn’t speak to you any different, but maybe he too can pick up on your shift in mood. Is it really that drastic? Surely you’ve always been a grump, so what’s the big difference?

“I’ll take those,” he says as he takes the groceries from your hands.

You allow him to take them and follow him into the kitchen to help sort out the items. Your mom also comes in to help, leaving out what she’ll make for dinner.

“Will you be joining us?”

You look at your dad with a shrug, “I think I have plans with someone, so I’m not sure.”

He juts his lips but nods understandably, “you are going out with a female friend or male?”

“It’s a mix of both genders. We’re a group of people.”

“Shouldn’t you introduce us so that we know who you’re with?”

“It’s not necessary, so no.”

You give him stern eyes and head towards your bedroom. You’re annoyed by people constantly prying into your life. You don’t want them to meet Kazuya because they’ll misunderstand what he is to you, and you most certainly do not want them to meet someone like Sukuna. They’ll only judge, because that’s all they do. Especially your mom.

Since you’re bored, you decide to change out of what you’re currently wearing and put something else on. “I’ll be back later,” you shout as you close the door behind you.

Your feet guide you through the area you first saw Sukuna. He’s not there anymore, obviously. The spot is now taken over by a guitarist, playing his heart out to make some extra cash. The tune sounds nice to your ears, but it does strike a couple of heartstrings. A grin appears on your lips as you dig into your wallet, grabbing a single twenty. You diligently place the bill in his guitar case and back up into the rest of the crowd again to listen.

The man sends you a gracious smile and tips his head at you, “thank you~”

Your hands come out in front of you and wave, “don’t mention it.”

The man leans towards a smaller build, with soft fluffy hair and delicate looking hands. He’s pretty, but you can tell he’s fairly young, possibly mid-teens. He’s completely different from Sukuna– why are you even comparing the two? You snap out of your own thoughts and turn around to leave the crowd. Probably wasn’t a wise choice to revisit such a nostalgic area.

You shove your airpods in and blast music to drown out the real world while you walk to the next destination. It doesn’t take you too long, but you push through the doors and approach the hostess, “hi, I’m sorry, do you know if Mastuyama Kazuya is working today?”

She beams brightly and bows a bit, “oh yes, his shift should be over in a few hours. Let me get him for you, he’s in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he greets, coming out from the back.

“Just thought I’d visit you for a bit,” you reason, “sorry, is it rush hour for you?”

Kazuya titters softly, “you’re fine, the kitchen can handle it.”

You push your hair behind your ear as you speak, “I’ll just be a second. I know you’re busy, so are we still going to the movies later tonight?”

“About that…” he trails off.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearms and pouts a bit, “I must be famous today. Sukuna and Kaede came to visit not too long ago.”

“Did they?”

You’re not sure as to why he’d bring them up, but you listen anyway.

Kazuya gestures towards a table, “yeah, they finished their meal like half an hour ago.”

“What do they have to do with our plans later?”

“Matsuyama, we need you back on the stove,” an employee says as he pokes his head out.

Kazuya nods hurriedly at him, “I’ll be right there.” He gently pinches your cheek, “they invited us to the club tonight and I kind of agreed without thinking. Don’t be too mad, okay? I gotta go, so I’ll see you tonight. See ya!”

“But–”

A fat sigh blows past your lips at the sight of him rushing back into the kitchen. Damn, you knew today felt shitty for a reason. Clubbing? With Sukuna? In a place where alcohol is involved? Not that you have to drink, but the environment is giving you flashbacks of that night, and it’s not bright. You will admit, there are times when you have dreams of that night and it drives you crazy! It’s that guilty conscience of yours…

Maybe you can find a way out of this, right?

♡ ♡ ♡

Kaede keeps blowing up your phone about tonight’s plan. She wants to know what you’ll wear, how you’ll do your hair etc. You’re not answering her much, just giving her short responses. Do you sound like a bitch? Probably. Do you care? Not really. Everything in your closet seems too bland and stupid but you managed to figure something out. It wasn’t anything too flashy, since you still have to see your parents, but enough to get you into the club.

You’re outside the gate, waiting for Sukuna’s car. He decided it’d be cheaper and safest to just use his chauffeur and who are you to argue against that? There’s a mix of emotions that you’re feeling as you wait, but the most defined one is anger and irritation. You don’t want to see Sukuna and Kaede flirt, mainly because you’ve been getting those flashbacks. Shit, you can barely look them in the eyes.

Right as you’re thinking this, you see the familiar black car pull up. It stops right in front of you and the passenger window rolls down.

“Get in,” he spits out coldly.

You barely catch it. That’s how low it is. Loud enough just for you to hear. He’s not even looking at you, he’s just staring straight ahead, and you want to smack that big ol’ head of his. You want to shove your hand through the window and fuck up his stupid, gelled back hair. Does he realize how stupid he looks? Okay, he doesn’t look stupid at all, you’re just being petty, but that’s okay!

You groan and open the back door to see both Kazuya and Kaede. They smile at you and shower you in compliments, ones that go in your ear and out the other. You’re only focusing on the back of his stupid pink hair. He got his roots retouched, how conceited. Ugh, and his cologne is too overwhelming. It makes your stomach churn.

“You doing okay?”

Kazuya’s eyebrows are pointed upwards in a worried way as he examines your sour face. Upon realization, you fix your face and hum, “peachy.”

You look at what Kaede is wearing and you instantly feel insecure. The feelings you feel, it’s the same as when you introduced Kaede to Sukuna. Why do you keep feeling this way? It’s annoying. Her hair is loosely curled, her makeup is done smokey, complimenting the dress she has on and her heels are sexy and strappy. Her charisma is even crazier tonight.

“You look sexy,” you compliment, sending a wink her way, regardless of the bad feelings inside.

Kaede giggles and shies away, “stop~ you’re teasing me.”

Your focus then turns towards Kazuya and your fingers land on the sleeves of his shirt, “you look great too, Kazuya.”

No one sees the red hues that glare through the rearview mirror, you’re all much too focused on your own little conversations, blabbing about this and that. Sukuna’s jaw tightens at the sight of you and he ignores the way your laugh sends shivers down his spine. You’re a fucking ungrateful bitch, that’s what you are.

Thankfully the ride isn’t too long. You’re all dropped off in the middle of the street and left to wait in line for the club. Kazuya is walking in front with Sukuna while Kaede holds your arms for support. It wasn’t too wise of you guys to pregame in the car, but it already happened, so.

“Where are you going?”

You call out with a glare and Sukuna barely looks back at you, “to the front.”

Kazuya spits out short apologies to the people you’re all cutting and taps Sukuna, “shouldn’t we be waiting in the back?”

“I work here,” Sukuna says, smiling his best.

Oh, that’s right. Sukuna works as a bartender at a club. This must be the place. Why didn’t it click in your head sooner?

Kaede’s grip on your arm is so tight that you feel like your arm will snap off. You’re about to say something to her, but Sukuna reaches out for her and takes her from you, “come here.”

He greets the bouncer and whispers something in their ear. They don’t even hesitate to let you all through, and as crazy as it is, you smile at Kazuya with excitement and raise your eyebrows, “I guess we don’t gotta pay.”

“Does that mean we get free drinks too?” Kazuya jokes, pulling you closer to him as the music begins to blare louder.

Sukuna chuckles, “that, you gotta pay for.”

You promised yourself not to drink too much, in fear you might slip up. Kaede and Sukuna, however, have been taking shots left and right. Their tab must be huge. Kazuya is the only one completely sober, but he’s having fun regardless, dancing with no shame. He’s fun to be with, at a time like this. You’re trying too, you are.

In order to distract yourself, you continue to dance with Kazuya, but not in a sensual way. Just goofy moves and whatnot. You’re not too sure how long it’s been, but maybe you guys have been here for two hours already. You’ve lost the other two in the crowd, so it helps to keep you distracted.

There’s just one thing… luck is never on your fucking side!

Kazuya reaches into his back pocket and leans towards your ear, shouting, “I gotta take this!”

You follow him towards the bathroom area and wait for him there to avoid separation. You pray that it’s a useless phone call, but something in your gut tells you otherwise. Approximately six minutes pass and Kazuya comes back out with a sorry smile.

There’s dread in your eyes.

“No, what’s wrong?”

He thins out his lips and gives you a soft caress before leaning towards your ear to shout, “sorry, y/n, but I just got a call from work. Someone had to go home suddenly and no one else could cover their shift.”

“But it’s almost eleven–”

His eyes shut, “I know, I know, but our restaurant stays open until 1am and they don’t have another chef. I’m sorry, y/n.”

You bite your tongue and huff, “it can’t be helped.”

Kazuya frowns too, since he feels sorry for having to suddenly abandon you, “I can help you search for the others before I leave–”

“Just go,” you blurt, your chest swelling with the action.

When you see the hurt in his face, you apologize, “sorry, it’s not your fault. It’d be better if you arrived over there quickly. I’ll look for them myself.”

You’re both shouting over the music, but you can hear each other clearly. He looks around the club once more before pulling you into a hug, “I’ll see you later, y/n.”

“Yeah,” you mutter against his chest.

♡ ♡ ♡

So, you might’ve had a few more shots. Just three more. Your vision isn’t fucked up, but your anger has subsided. Oh, you’re also dancing way more, now that you’re here by yourself, but it’s still fun. You get a couple of guys and girls here and there, but they know the drill, they don’t stay too long. In all honesty, you’ve kind of forgotten all about the other two people you came with.

That was, until… You’re shouting over the music with a random group of people you’ve found. It’s a mix of both women and men, mainly consisting of women. They know how to party, how to have fun. You watched them take body shots off of each other and when they offered you, you quickly denied, “it’s okay, I can’t get too drunk!”

“Awh, maybe next time then,” one of the men suggests, giving you a cute pout.

Though he suggests it, neither of you bother to exchange socials; his words nothing but empty. You sway to the loud music and look around, your eyes scanning over hundreds of faces but… you see him. You see him anywhere. You see him in the midst of the crowd, no one but him. It’s not because of his bright pink hair, it’s not because of his tattoos. You see him because he is Ryomen Sukuna.

All of your movements still instantly as you watch what’s in front of you. He’s stuck in the middle of a crowd with rowdy people, but in his arms is a very drunk Kaede. Her eyes are closed as she grinds her hips against his, her arms lifted and wrapped around his neck as a way to help support herself, even though he’s got both palms planted on her hips. Their faces are so close that it’s almost like they’ll kiss, and it sparks a fire in your chest. You feel it all at once while your head spins at the sight. Your chest stings, your heart falls, your face feels heated, and your heart is pounding so hard against you that it hurts. There’s a stupid, fat lump in your throat as you continue to watch them dance with each other.

His expensive silk shirt is unbuttoned, like always, and you see the way Kaede’s nose dips closer to his bare skin. Will she lick him? Sniff him? They’re dancing so sensually. Are they both drunk? Is he taking advantage of her? Are they together? Have they done more than this? A million questions race through your head as you stomp through the crowd, not caring that you rudely bump into people.

With hate filled eyes, you march over and shove a random girl out of your way. You’re so focused on your own heightened emotions that you don’t care if you get into a fight. She glares at you, “what the fuck is your problem?!”

You ignore her and continue to push through. Without thinking, you grab Sukuna’s wrist and yank him away from Kaede, making them both stumble.

“What the fuck are you two doing?! Are you fucking out of your minds?!”

The poor girl is much too intoxicated to understand the situation, only reaching out to grab Sukuna’s hand while her head leans on his back for support. He looks down at you coldly, “what?”

Fuck, you’re too stunned to speak now. Where did all that anger go? It seems to have disappeared the moment he laid eyes on you. His eyes pierce through you so harshly. His nostrils flare as his patience runs out and he steps back to grab Kaede by her waist. He then proceeds to use his other hand to grab at your forearm harshly, choosing to drag you guys to the bar. He quickly waves over one of the bartenders, “this girl is with me. Make sure to have someone watch over her in the back room.”

“Don’t take too long, can’t guarantee that boss will let her stay.”

Sukuna sighs in annoyance, “tell him she’s with me. He won’t care.”

He doesn’t wait for the other guy’s response and continues to drag you. You’re a bit scared with how shady the door looks, but he drags you out and you realize that you guys are in an alleyway. Sukuna’s chin rises, “what the fuck was that all about?”

You glare up at him as he continues, “I was hitting it off with Kaede. Why’d you do all of that?”

“I’m worried,” you stupidly admit.

You hate how weak you sound. You hate how unconfident you’re feeling from just his gaze.

Sukuna scoffs out loud at you, “worried about what? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He steps closer to you, “for you to be with Kazuya without needing to worry about me? You set me up with Kaede and now you’re concerned?”

His face leans down, hovering over yours as a petty smirk draws itself on his lips. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode. You raise your chin pridefully, scoffing at his attitude, even though you had one first, “jeez, you must really like her. I didn’t think you’d be that upset about it.”

“Well, I am,” he quickly replies. There’s spite laced in his voice.

You blink a few times at his confirmation, and it seems to calm your sudden burst of anger. What used to be irritation morphs into something of shame and you lower your face a bit, “sorry for acting out then. Go back to her.”

You want to leave. You want to go home and cry. You want to be anywhere but here. You’re already turning around to walk away from him but he calls out angrily, “we’re not done talking, y/n.”

You hate the way he says your name.

“I think we are,” You’re only a few steps away from him, “you can go back to being touchy with her.”

Sukuna groans to himself, his voice becoming more stern, “I said we weren’t done talking. Stay still and look me in the eyes.”

You turn around to face him, “it’s fine, it was a spur of the moment.”

You motion towards the heavy door, “let’s just go back, she’s probably worried about you.”

With heavy footsteps, you try to get past him. Sukuna has other plans. He stops you and steps in front of you again, “y/n, I’m serious. Tell me what that shit was about. You had no fucking right to do that, to her or me.”

“I–”

Why are you getting choked up? It fucking sucks. This shit fucking sucks! What the fuck are you even doing? Why were you so mad in the first place?

Sukuna’s expression mocks you, a sneer on his face, “what, you can’t talk now? All of a sudden, the words can’t come out of your throat?”

He brings his hand up to your face and his thumb grazes your bottom lip gently, “you seemed to do just fine earlier when you were telling us off.”

There’s a stinging sensation in the corner of your eyes. Ah shit, don’t tell me it’s tears. What are they? Angry tears? Sad? Hurt?

Sukuna chuckles deeply, his thumb still on your lip, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry now.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you say as you swat his hand away from you.

You quickly spin around to walk, hoping that you get to the end of the alley quickly. Sukuna’s heavy feet only take two steps forward before stopping, “get back here, right now.”

When you don’t listen, he raises his voice, “Ichihara y/n, I’m not playing with you.”

The seriousness in his tone has you stilling. Your mind is yelling at you to keep going, so why did you stop? Again, you turn around to face him, “I don’t know, Sukuna. I don’t know why I did that.”

Sukuna’s long strides get him close to you again and there’s a heavy frown on his lips, “yes, you do. I know you do.”

He heaves a sigh, mostly for himself, and then stares into your eyes. For a brief second, there’s worry in them.

“Look, let’s just take a deep breath together, okay?” he suggests, raising a brow.

Without needing to countdown, you both inhale and exhale together. He hums expectantly, “now tell me what’s wrong.”

The reason why you were so angry? Well, you don’t want to believe it.

“Sukuna, I–” the tears fall past your eyes, cascading down your cheeks, “I’m really jealous.”

His eyes widened. They widened and then his gaze turned into something bitter, “why are you saying this to me?”

He backs away from you, “why are you telling me this? Why now?”

More tears fall as you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, “I’m really jealous when you’re with Kaede, Sukuna.”

“Don’t say that shit to me,” he spits out, “what about Kazuya, hm? Weren’t you so sure you liked him? Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes turn cold as well, looking at him with hate, “I didn’t realize I liked you this much!”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches at your confession, his fists balling so tight that his knuckles turn white.

You continue with a shaky voice, “I wasn’t sure if what we had was platonic or not–” your voice breaks, “so I chose Kazuya because he was the safest option.”

He shakes his head at you, seething as he does so, “you had months to figure it out, y/n. Months.”

Your heart throbs.

“Okay, I get it! You’re mad and I feel stupid and embarrassed, so just go back to Kaede already.”

You turn around and begin to speed walk, not caring if you just ruined your entire relationship with Sukuna. He, however, has other plans, choosing to chase after you. He spins you around violently, “no, don’t try to pull this shit on me. You’re fucking manipulating me.”

“I’m not!”

You try to pry his hands off of you with your own but you’re too weak. He won’t budge no matter how much you try.

You weakly shove him away, only moving yourself with the action, “I told you why I made a scene and now you’re just upset! I’m embarrassed, and I would just like to go home.”

Sukuna’s phone makes a notification sound and he quickly pulls his phone out to look at the text. He releases you with a glare, “Kaede texted me, I’m going back.”

It takes everything in him to not hug you, to not comfort you and kiss you. He’s so angry with you. You’re hurt? Well so is he. His chest heaves heavily while he tries to calm his heart, “get home safe.”

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” you spit out, looking away from him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, “and I didn’t need to hear that shit from you either but look what happened.”

He shoves his phone back into his pocket, “whether you choose to text me when you get home or not is on you, I don’t care.” He turns around, “see ya.”

♡ ♡ ♡

You don’t remember how you got home. All you know is that you turned your phone off after catching a cab. Gosh, you’re so stupid. All of this shit is your fault. If you weren’t so stupid, indecisive and moody then none of this would’ve happened. You were too embarrassed to show yourself in front of your parents, so you crawled through your window.

After lazily locking it, you plopped down onto the bed and curled up into a ball. All of these raw emotions make you feel ugly inside and it hurts a lot. You see flashes of the look in his eyes and yours close immediately, refusing to relive the moment.

You knew about your feelings. You knew this whole time; you just didn’t want to believe it. Now that you’ve told him, you feel much smaller in the world. Your heart feels like it’s been smashed to bits and pieces and don’t even get started on Kaede. How will you ever look her in the eyes again? No, what will you say to Kazuya? He’s not the one your heart yearns for, he’s far from it, no matter how much you try. He’s such a sweet man, but he’s not who you want.

After lying in bed for a few hours, you pushed yourself up and gathered fresh clothes. You heard your parents go to bed hours ago but you were too drained to move earlier. You strip and wait for the water to turn hot, getting in once you’re satisfied with the heat. The thing that sucks is the fact that you can’t focus on anything. All you see is the disgust and hatred in his eyes.

You feel dirty.

A soft whimper falls from your lips as you begin to scrub your body harshly, hoping to get rid of the feeling. No matter how much you scrub and scratch, you can’t get the dirty feeling off. If Kaede found out about your feelings, would she hate you too? This is exactly why you refused to believe in your feelings for Sukuna. She’s always shown her interest in him; she was never discreet. You let yourself sink and hug your knees while the water pelts you.

You’re the worst kind of friend. Who in the fucking world begs the man that their friend is interested in to take them to a party, proceeds to get drunk together and then fucking makes out, almost leading to sex? Only bad friends. The worst part is you begging him to keep quiet about it, because you knew it was wrong. How dare you continue to hang out with her and act as if nothing ever happened. But, you’re a coward. You can’t fess up. You don’t want to lose another friend. You let yourself cry for a few more minutes before sucking it up and ending your shower.

The bed feels colder than usual. You feel like the loneliest person in the world. It’s funny though, since you did this to yourself. You’ll continue to talk to Kaede until she eventually finds out, because you’re a coward like that. Yeah, that’s what you are.

♡ ♡ ♡

You wake up with a headache. It must be from all the stupid crying but you push yourself up and force yourself to get through the day. You still haven’t turned your phone on, as you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Your everyday morning routine is done with ease, even with a blank mind. When you roam into the dining area, your mom jumps up.

“I thought you weren’t home. We waited all night for you,” she says while adding breakfast to a plate that’s now meant for you.

“I came home quietly.”

You take the plate from her and place it at the table, moving to help her set up everything else. She squints her judgy eyes at you, “your eyes are red and puffy.”

“Oh, she might’ve just had fun last night.”

Your dad’s voice interferes and he pops into the room with a smile. He’s obviously trying to get her off of your back, but she continues to poke at you, “or she was crying. What happened?”

“I drank a lot.”

Your unfiltered comment has your parents at a loss for words and you laugh, “I’m being responsible so please stop treating me like I’m some child.”

The breakfast that your mom cooked might’ve been really tasty but you can’t seem to taste a single thing. It’s all bland to you, sadly. You feel their eyes on you. It’s annoying. With wavering patience, you place your utensils down and stand, “I’m done.”

Their whispered argument goes on deaf ears as you walk back into your room to get ready. You do your makeup as quickly as possible and then turn your phone on. There’s a message or two from Kaede and she’s apologizing for getting too drunk. Does she even know what happened last night? You don’t have the heart to respond, so you turn off your read notifications and leave her unanswered. Kazuya’s messages are just him apologizing for leaving early. You give him a short response but that’s all. Sukuna hasn’t messaged you at all, and that’s something you should probably get used to.

Anyways, you need to end things with Kazuya. You can’t continue to lead him on like this, and you should probably tell him the truth. It’s the least you can do for him. You asked to meet up with him after work and he agreed in an instance. Now all that’s left is the waiting game.

It’s not as easy to distract yourself when you’re panicking over what to say and how you’ll say it. He’s such a sweetheart that you might break and cry while telling him everything. He’d probably even question why you’re the one crying when it should be him… Oh god, you seriously need to pull yourself together before you make any situation worse.

For hours, you practiced what you would say to Kazuya so you wouldn’t stutter for words. You looked into a mirror and trained your facial expressions so that you’d be less tense in front of him. You even imagined the pained expression that he would hold when you broke the news to him, but you still felt horrible when doing so. Kazuya truly is a soft soul and a great friend. You’d hate to lose him, but you know he’ll be gone. You’ll be left alone for a long time too, since Kaede and Sukuna won’t stay by you after this either.

It’s already a little past 6pm and you’re on your way to meet Kazuya. He chose a small coffee shop since he wanted some caffeine. You stop in front of the door and take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the last time. Just like before, you force a smile and pull the door open, the little bell dinging above your head.

“Welcome in,” you hear the employee greet. You suck in a breath and lock eyes with Kazuya who waves you down. He looks different today, almost as if he knows something. Yes, he’s smiling, but it’s forlorn. You walk to him and sit down, nervously accepting the warm drink he offers you.

“I went ahead and ordered for you too,” he says while retracting his hand.

“Thanks.”

It’s a dry reply. Oh god, you feel terrible. Kazuya taps the table with the pads of his fingers, “listen, about last night, I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, maybe a little too fast, “it’s fine, seriously. I–”

He cuts you off, “you wanted to talk to me, I know. So, what is it?”

“Uh…”

Shit! All those hours of practicing went to fucking waste! Why can’t you speak up? Are you just stupid and useless? Is that it? He deserves to know the truth, so why can’t you stop being a coward and speak up? You called him to talk, so talk.

Kazuya’s hand slides across the table and he gently holds your index finger. Only that finger. You appreciate how he still respects your space and boundaries, even after all those months of you basically leading him on. He rubs his finger over your smooth nail polish and he shoots you a kind smile, “you have pretty hands.”

“You always say that.”

A grin stretches as you recall the many times he’s complimented them. No matter what color or length, he’d always comment on it. The memories are bittersweet as well, and you’re a bit upset at yourself for even smiling at a time like this. Kazuya’s other hand brushes through his hair, revealing his forehead as he does so.

“It’s about time you smile at me, timid girl.”

Your face turns red, mainly from embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Kazuya.”

He lets go of your finger and grabs his cup, drinking the warm beverage. When he’s done, he looks back at you, “It’s alright, y/n. I think I know what this is about.”

“You do?”

Your voice is small. You hate it. How can Kazuya keep smiling at you?

“I’ve been trying for months, y/n. I’m not clueless.”

Your head falls, “I’m sorry.”

The fact that you don’t deny him only proves his theory. Kazuya didn’t know for sure, but now his questions and doubts are confirmed. He tries not to let it show and instead keeps smiling at you, “I told you that I noticed how you changed here and there over time, but I didn’t want to bother you about it in case you were also figuring yourself out.”

Kazuya becomes quiet for a short while but then continues, “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but after I saw Sukuna’s wallpaper, everything just kind of clicked. You’re not a good liar either, y/n, but I like that about you. It makes you kind of cute.”

You laugh again, because you don’t know what to say. All you know how to say is ‘sorry’ and you’re sure that Kazuya doesn’t want to keep hearing that from you.

Everything about him is calm, from the way he looks at you, to the way he speaks. He seems completely fine on the outside, but he’s screaming at himself internally. He wants to break down and cry because he does truly like you, but what good is it if the person you’re interested in just can’t find it within themselves to like you back. His right leg bounces quickly under the table, but you don’t know that.

Kazuya suddenly leans over the table to tap your hand, mainly to get your attention, “I really liked you and I hoped that we could work out, but I understand. Thank you for trying anyway, y/n.”

There’s a small, teeny tiny weight that lifts from your chest, “is this really okay with you, Kazuya?”

“Mmm… no hard feelings, promise.”

Poor guy… he’s flashing you such a pretty smile but you can see the tears welling in his eyes. You only have yourself to blame for this. If you were honest from the beginning then he wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. You tilt your head up at Kazuya when he pulls on your finger.

“It’s always been him, huh?”

Does he seriously want an answer to that? It would only hurt him more… You see the expectant expression though, so you nod with shame, “I didn’t want it to be him, I swear. He just snuck his way in.”

Kazuya lets your finger go and slowly slides his hand back towards himself, “but does he like you?”

He already knows the answer. Even a blind man can see just how much you two pine for each other; he just wishes you were more honest with yourselves.

You clench the cup a bit tighter, “I’m sorry.”

His expression softens quickly, “for what?”

“I’m sorry for not seeing you in a romantic way, Kazuya.”

Oh my god. That’s the worst kind of thing to say. Please, shut the fuck up.

You’re expecting him to cry, but he bursts out laughing, a hand flying over his mouth to try and hide it. When you furrow your brows at him, he dips his head and takes a minute to collect himself.

“Don’t say things like that, you’ll make me feel small both emotionally and physically. Anyhow,” he snickers one last time to mask his sadness, “I’m rooting for you. I don’t know what’ll happen to you guys, since Kaede is also in the picture, but I’ll always be cheering you on. I hope you get your happy ending, timid girl.”

It’s odd. You hate Sukuna’s ‘halfie’ but you don’t seem to mind Kazuya’s ‘timid girl’. Is that weird?

Your lip quivers, “I’m sorry that I can’t love you in the same way.”

“Stop,” he teases, “you’ll make me cry. I’m trying to seem tough here.”

Kazuya stands from the table first and waits for you to get up. Like a gentleman, he assists you out of the cafe and holds the door for you.

“I guess we should stop our frequent meetups from here on out.”

He holds his arms open and you rush in to return his hug, holding him as tightly as you can. This is supposed to make you feel better, but you only feel like shit. Well, you are kind of shit, but there’s no need to continue berating yourself.

Ugh, fucking bitch. You’re crying. Kazuya’s soft chuckle vibrates against you while his hands rub your back soothingly, “this must’ve been a tough decision for you, y/n. I know it’s not easy, you did good.”

“I–” you get a bit choked up, but keep going, “I am truly sorry towards you, for not being able to feel the same way.”

Kazuya pulls his face back to look directly in your eyes, a tiny grin on his lips, “I told you that it was all okay. I understand completely, alright? Friends?”

Another fat tear rolls down your cheek, “yeah, friends.”

He rests his face against the side of your head before giving it a quick kiss, “talk it out with Sukuna, alright? He’s a cool guy.”

“He’s an ass, but I will.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Welp! That’s one problem gone. Now you’ve got another storm of problems to get over. How will you confront Sukuna and how will you tell Kaede without causing any more problems? She’s going to be upset, that’s unavoidable. The problem is how upset she’ll be. You’re not sure how far she and Sukuna have gone, but based on how they acted in the club, they might’ve gotten pretty far with each other. Afterall, Sukuna isn’t exactly an in-your-face type of guy, so if they are together then it’s on the downlow, and if that’s the case then it’s no wonder he got so upset with you. You curse under your breath at yourself. You should’ve just asked Kaede a month ago if she and Sukuna were exclusive. You remember the way he held her hips and how they grinded against each other. A shudder runs down your spine at the fact that they might be sleeping together already.

Shit. Whether you say something or not, you’re gonna lose. It’s a lose-lose situation for you regardless of what you do, and that fucking sucks!

“I’m fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

When you’re back in reality, you recognize the area. Your stupid feet have led you to the train tracks you used to hang out at. All those memories of you arguing with Sukuna over little things come flying by and you laugh to yourself while the rocks crunch beneath you. You also remember throwing salt at him all the time. Oh yeah. You haven’t done that in a long while. You keep going, choosing to walk on the actual tracks instead but as you get further, your heart seems to pulse faster. Your intuition tells you to turn and run, far away, but your feet won’t listen.

And, shit. What are the odds that you’d run into him here, today? Well, that’s exactly what the fuck just happened! Why is he here? Why is he sitting on the tracks with his back turned to you? His intoxicating scent fills your nostrils and you switch to breathing through your mouth, refusing to allow him in. His hair isn’t styled today, it’s left soft and untouched, blowing gently with the light breeze. You stand still and hold your breath, trying not to make too much sound but it’s too late.

“You’re always late, Kaede. Next time I’m ditching–”

Sukuna’s words are cut short when he turns around and finds you instead. Why the fuck are you here? Who the hell invited you? He hates that you still look beautiful.

All you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from before; it’s the way his eyes no longer hold any warmth for you. You should’ve taken advantage of those eyes back then, but who would’ve known that you two would end up like this so quickly. It’s just barely 7pm and the orange sky behind him suits him so well. It complements the pigment of his skin and blends in prettily with his artificial pink hair. If you were a bigger fool, you’d think that you were in hell with the devil himself. His aura and glare are enough to burn through your skin and you’re foolish, because you can’t seem to run away.

“You should probably get outta here, Kaede will be here soon,” he spits out, turning away so that he can no longer see you.

“Sukuna, about–”

He cuts you off, “you should also stop coming here, to all the areas we’ve hung out before. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to keep on running into each other.”

So what the fuck does that mean? Is he confirming that he and Kaede are together? Are they cutting you off? You’re really sick and tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

You’re quiet, so he goes on, “I’ll still be around when Kaede wants to hang out with you, but don’t expect too much. I’ll talk to you here and there so it doesn’t come off as weird, but I won’t get in yours or Kazuya’s way.”

You’re not ready for either of this. You were not expecting to run into Sukuna so soon and you don’t know what to say to him. You haven’t had the time to try and sort this shit out, so for it to come flying at you like this all at once has you overwhelmed. Right now, you wish a train would just come and run you over, but that’s not happening. Not anytime soon, at least.

You’re too quiet. Sukuna lazily tilts his head towards you and clicks his tongue at what he sees.

“Seriously? You’re crying now?” He snickers dryly, “you’re really fucking crying right now?”

A short sob falls from your lips, “can I not cry when my feelings are hurt?”

“No, you don’t get to cry.”

He closes the distance between you, “and don’t even think about trying to cry about this later. I won’t fall for it.”

Your mouth falls agape and you think about how none of this would’ve been a problem if he had just left you alone the second time you guys talked. You try to blink away the rest of your tears, “I never asked for this. I didn’t ask for you to stay by my side and cling to me.”

Sukuna thinks it’s funny, so he laughs in a spiteful manner. Weren’t you the one who came to bother him? Asking about his name and shit? Talking about always seeing him linger on the fucking streets?

“Oh, so now you’re ungrateful too, bitch.”

You shove him away on instinct, “would you stop that?”

His tongue comes out to poke at the corner of his mouth while he chuckles, “stop what? My sarcasm?” he steps closer again, towering over you, “why? Does it hurt you?”

“Yeah, it fucking hurts me, Sukuna,” you quietly admit, a new stream of tears slipping past your eyes.

When you think about your argument last night, your heart aches and you don’t want to feel this way anymore. You just want to get it over with. When you think about how he’s waiting for Kaede right now, your heart falls to pieces.

“Seeing you with her hurts my feelings. I’m jealous, really jealous.”

Everything cunning about Sukuna drops and he backs away from you, pushing his hair back in frustration, “you don’t get to feel that way! Not now, not ever.” His chest heaves heavily as he speaks to you, “what gives you the right to, hm? That you realized you liked me too late?”

He comes to you again but you don’t move, you don’t wince at his aggression. His red hues bore into yours, “what’re you gonna do about Kazuya, huh? Tell me.”

Just tell him. That’s all you need to do. Tell him that you ended things with Kazuya. As easy as it sounds like to do so, you can’t. You just ended things with him and even that hurt. You can still see just how much he was holding back, how hard he was trying to not cry in front of you. You remember how when you both parted ways, you turned around and saw his arms raise towards his face. He broke down when he was sure you were already walking away from him, and it made you feel like the shittiest person alive because he didn’t deserve that. And even if you could tell Sukuna, you’re more worried now than ever about the fact that he and Kaede might be dating. Everything he’s doing, all of this anger, it’s possible that he’s angry with you because you’re too late and they’re already together.

Sukuna’s irises flick back and forth all over your face as he waits for you to speak up. Why aren’t you saying anything? Why can’t you ever say anything?

“Stop fucking crying, y/n,” he says in a softer tone, more so to help himself calm down.

“This is stupid,” you say weakly, “I’m being stupid.”

You quickly wipe your eyes and turn around to leave. That’s better anyway because Kaede could show up at any moment.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he chases after you with long strides, “we aren’t done talking about this.”

“Well, I am.”

“Well I’m not, so get your ass back here before I lift you over my shoulder and drag you away myself.”

You still haven’t turned around, “that’s kidnapping.”

He stands right behind you, “I don’t give a shit, y/n. I’ll do it, you know I will.”

He’s not bluffing. You hate that you know. You take a deep breath and turn back to face him.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“Says the one causing problems.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

@lucyrocks86 @mykyoon @hxlalokidottir @wo-ming-bai @yourusernames @adoraspace

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fanfic #sukuna #sukuna fanfic #ryomen sukuna #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #alternate universe #slow burn

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streamafterlaughter · 7 months

Text

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XVIII: I Gave My Life Away

pre warning: tags contain some non specific spoilers

warnings: 18+ MDNI mentions of a suicide attempt, alcoholism, narcotics addiction, depression. Adult content not meant for people under the age of 18. (spoiler for next tag!) Grinding/heavy petting, an inkling of smut. Angst, hurt feelings, heavy subject matter. reminder that this is fiction and i do not condone the actions of my characters! afab!gn!reader, they/them pronouns, rockstar!eddie, use of y/n lol i did not use y/n once!, pet names

a/n: i am… so sorry. that’s all i’ll say for now.

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

—

January 1991

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie? Eddie!” The voice is familiar, but too far away. He can’t see anything beyond a spinning figure, but he feels the harsh slapping on his face before someone drags him by his armpits into the bathtub. “Cmon, man, please.”

Then there’s water, and it’s cold, and Eddie’s trying to move but he can’t, he can only cough and choke as the shower spray gets into his nose and mouth.

“Oh fuck, thank fucking God.” Then there are footsteps, and Eddie’s hauled out of the bathroom on a stretcher, the frantic voice following closely behind.

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Ed, they’re looking for you. Two minutes.”

Eddie nods, waving the security off and turning back to her. “You’re still in Ohio, then?”

“Yeah, seems it. Nothing really goin’ on here, though.”

“Isn’t that kind of a good thing?”

She shrugs, her lips pursed. “Guess so, if it means you’re here.”

Eddie chuckles shyly. “Well, I should get moving, or Steve will have my head.

She nods eagerly, wrapping herself tightly around Eddie’s torso, causing him to shift uncomfortably. He hasn’t seen her since before, and he realizes now he’s not that person anymore. It causes his heart to skip with anxious energy.

“See ya.” She sends him a wink, and he waves as she turns on her heel to venture back into the crowd.

The security guard is still there, humming the chorus to Under The Bridge as it plays out of the house speakers, leaning against the wall as he waits for Eddie to finish with the pretty, dainty girl he’s with, and Eddie returns to him like a scolded child. “Alright, let’s go.”

“That your girl?” He asks, making small talk with the rockstar he has likely no interest in.

Eddie shakes his head. “God, no. A friend, maybe. Not even that much, not anymore.”

“Guy like you doesn’t need to dwell on that, man. Sure you got plenty of ladies lined up for a chance with you.”

He snorts, amused by this guy’s casualty. “You’d be surprised.”

The guard escorts Eddie all the way to the stage, where Steve is seething and huffing about, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Sorry, sorry. Ran into someone.”

Steve’s expression softens slightly at the mention. “Was it-“

“Yeah. But it’s fine, really. Civil, even.”

“Right. In that case, I’m still mad at you,”

“Sure, of course. Can we hold off on my discipline until after the show?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, breathing deeply as if to prevent himself from taking a swing at Eddie. “Fine. Go.”

Eddie bows his head to thank him, and takes his place next to his bandmates, who’d been left waiting restlessly for their frontman, again. “Hey-“

“Shut up.” Jeff silences him. “Don’t wanna hear it.” And it’s fair. They shouldn’t have to listen to his excuses. He’s supposed to be working on himself, and all he’s managed to do is piss off the people that matter to him most. The house lights dim, and Eddie watches as the crowd grow feral, shoving toward the stage, shaking the metal barricades standing between them and the stage. His heart thumps in his ears, in time with the crowd’s eager chants of “COFFIN, COFFIN,” a command he’s inclined to obey. It drags him forward, led by his band onto the stage to present themselves to a mass of people that want to tear them apart.

The stage lights up with the first chord, and Eddie hears the audience beyond his monitor. He looks back to Gareth, who’s awestruck at the noise, then to Jeff who holds his hand over his chest, genuinely thanking these people for coming. Eddie wants to feel it, too. The warmth these people seem to offer his friends, but he’s somewhere else. He can’t get used to it, like he’s wearing shoes half a size too small. It makes him shift uncomfortably inside his skin, constantly feeling the eyes of thousands on him, relying on him, there for him. It’s then that he realizes he’s sober on stage, for the first time in five years.

He’d stuck to his word, now twenty four hours without consuming a drop of alcohol. He feels his chest tighten, like a hand made of knives has broken open his ribcage to squeeze his heart until it pops. His lungs will fill with his own blood and he’ll choke, he watches as it flashes before him, a panic stricken fantasy but Eddie wouldn’t say unrealistic.

His friends are looking at him. The crowd is calming with their increased confusion; a late start and now a strange, empty pause. He has to fill it. He can’t find you, and he’s taking too long, and it’s starting to confuse his band, so he shouts into the blackness “HELLO, COLUMBUS!” and the room combusts with the release of tension. “I am so sorry we’re late. Thank you for waiting. Let’s burn this fucking place down.” Gareth hits his sticks together, both a warning and a courtesy that there’s no stopping now, and Eddie rides the momentum. He nails every incoming note without thought, and he can feel the vibrations through the building, both of the music and the crowd. He gets the same rush he used to, when he was wide eyed and bushy tailed, younger and in love with the life of a rockstar. For a second, he feels it again, in the same place he’d felt the least alive at this time two years ago.

Your POV

“What the hell!” You stomp up to Steve, screaming over the noise of the stage into his face. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Steve only smirks. “How does it feel, huh? To not have a fucking clue what’s going on? He’ll tell you. I can’t-“

“Blah!” You throw your hands into the air, “I get it, you can’t tell me. Just… who’s the girl?”

Steve’s smile only grows. “Are you jealous?”

You groan, more from exhaustion than embarrassment. “Of course I’m fucking jealous, Steve! Don’t play dumb! Please, don’t make me feel stupid.”

His face falls, and he grabs you by the shoulders, jolting you into focus. “You have nothing to worry about. That I do know.”

It’s not enough, but it’s all you’re gonna get. You can’t help but respect it, the commitment to keeping Eddie’s business to himself. Truth be told, Steve is probably dying to tell you. “It’s that big, huh?” He nods sadly, and you mirror him in understanding. “But he’s going to tell you. He’s gonna tell you everything, and it’s gonna be a lot to digest. So I’ll be here when he tells you.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.”

He nods. “That’s my intention. You might not get the answers you want, but you’ll get answers.”

You watch the tail end of their set with your brain going in circles. What could Steve possibly mean, the answers you don't want? What answers do you want? Who’s the girl, for starters. But mostly, what happened, in the two years without contact? What made you so angry? You can’t imagine an answer heavy enough to break you, not off the top of your head. Whatever it is, you want it. Even if it’s just to understand Eddie a little more. Even if it means he can’t be with you. Even if it means you have to let him go.

“Thank you!” Eddie shouts after the final note of a song you couldn’t name. “Thanks for comin’ out, Columbus!” The crowd shrieks, ratting your brain inside your head. “And give it up again for DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!” The crowd politely continues cheering, and a small girl next to you sends you a bright smile. “So, so grateful to have them on this whole tour with us, you have no idea.” Eddie laughs bashfully, out of character for him to do while on stage. It’s a small thing, something you shouldn’t have noticed, but of course you did. He’s nervous. You squint, as if it will help you read him better, and it doesn’t. “This is our last song, I wanna hear you all. Loud as you can, alright?” The crowd whoops, and Corroded Coffin start in on Sweetheart, and you almost choke on your tears immediately.

Eddie has always said the closing song is the most important. It’s the one freshest in their mind, the one that will stick with them the most. It has to be perfect. He’d never used Sweetheart as the closer, and it’s obvious Gareth and Jeff weren’t ready for it, probably assuming Eddie skipped it reading the setlist. Eddie’s voice shakes slightly as he sings, but it’s perfect. His eyes stay closed the whole time, and you desperately wish he’d open them, find you in the wings, and sing the words to you again. Like he had, any time you’d asked him to just because you could. You sing along, lose yourself in the lyrics for the first time in years, actually hearing the words meant for you.

And then it’s over, and they’re thanking the crowd and bowing, and walking off stage, and even though you know you’re gonna see it all again night after night, even though you have seen it tens of times already, you miss it. The feeling of a shrieking crowd feeling all of their feelings while you feel yours. The feelings you hope you can give to your own audience. You feel like a teenager seeing their favorite band for the first time, and you’d forgotten how good that felt.

Robin seems to appear from thin air next to you. “Hey!” She semi-shouts over the bustling crowd. “Are you crying?” It’s a question you should absolutely be used to by now. You hadn’t noticed this time, though. “Oh!” You sniff, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, guess I was. Not sad, though.” Not necessarily true, but for now a nonissue.

“We’re all goin’ out tonight.”

You shake your head. “I’ll catch up.” She frowns at you. “It’s okay! I’ll tell you everything I can after.”

The possibility of a gossip session soothes her curiosity, and she squeezes your arm before continuing to wiggle through the crowd. You follow her backstage, into the massive dressing area backstage, where Eddie sits with his bandmates in a circle of metal fold out chairs, each of them holding a beer. Besides Eddie, who fiddles with the label of his water bottle.

“Right!” Jeff pats Eddie’s knee as he speaks, “We’re goin’ out. celebrating our biggest show to date.”

It’s then that Eddie lifts his eyes and catches you staring. You don’t bother averting yours to the floor, already having been caught red handed. “Do you guys mind if I sit this one out? I uh, have a prior engagement.” The girl, you’re sure. The girl you have nothing to worry about, the girl Eddie knows in the nowhere state of Ohio. You chew on the inside of your lip until you draw blood, anxious and suddenly unsure of everything Steve had tried to warn you about.

“Yeah, man, of course. Come out if you change your mind, though.” With that, Gareth and Jeff exit the room, and your friends follow suit soon after, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eddie’s POV

Now, I have to do it right now. “Hey,”

You face him, eyes wide with questions he so desperately wants to answer for you. Your hands are clasped tightly together, your knuckles white and arms flexed, jaw clenched. “You wanna get some coffee?”

Your nod is vigorous, and he holds his elbow out for you. You quickly latch onto him, and Eddie feels just how anxious you must be. He can’t imagine where your head’s at, with your nightmares and your constant, irritating habit of caring about him so much. He’s exhausting you, and all he wants now is to let you rest.

Eddie asks a remaining staff member to escort the two of you out the back way, and into the warmth of the summer night. “Is there even somewhere that sells coffee around here? Let alone somewhere that’s open?” You joke, and he chuckles.

“I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. Ah!” He points down the road, to the glowing 7-Eleven sign. “Onward!” You laugh, and it floods through Eddie, like it’s drenching his head in ice water, refreshing him. He’s since dropped his arm, but yours stays locked around him, like if you let go he’d run away. As if he’d ever think to do such a thing.

He breaks the thick silence finally, after several minutes of walking through it. “You uh, said you wanted to talk?”

You look up at him. “I did?”

“Yeah, uh, this morning? We didn’t really get the chance.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah I guess so. I just,” You shake your head, frustrated, “I have questions.”

“Okay,” Eddie shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. He wants to give you the answers. Finally, he wants to be completely open with you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, shoot. I’ll answer your questions.”

“Any of them?”

“All of ‘em, sweetheart.” He can’t help it, he loves watching you shy away at the nickname, cute and soft, under all that armor.

Your POV

“Okay…” You have to be careful. One wrong move, and he’s shutting you out again. “Where’d you go tonight?” A subtle way to ask it, you think. Not accusatory, just curious, bordering on nosey.

“I ran into an old friend. From group.” You snap your neck, catching the words he says so casually.

“Group?”

Eddie nods, “NA-slash-AA.”

This is nowhere near where you thought this conversation would go. Every question you’d had crumbles at his answer. “What?”

“I’m more of a casual attendee, lately.” You feel your head fill up with more questions, and you’re drowning. “When did you-“ You’re expecting him to cut you off, but he waits. “When did you start going to meetings?”

Eddie looks to the sky as if to find the answer in the blackness above. “Early into 1991. There was still snow on the ground.”

“What um,” You’re walking the tightrope here, and you heed Steve’s warning. “What made you decide to go?”

Eddie looks at you again, his expression sad. “Had a really, really bad night.”

“What happened?” You ask, too quickly. It’s not fair, and you don’t have any right to know the answer, but Eddie snorts a laugh, like this news isn’t breaking your heart to learn. “Steve saved my life. I’m surprised he hasn’t divulged this story to you, even with the fact that I begged him not to tell anyone. Took me years to even tell the guys. I had gotten so bad, I didn’t care what happened to me. I was drinking myself to sleep every night, wallowing in self pity, barely able to function. I was worse than any time before. Worse than I was when you’d called me that night.”

“What night?”

“You were drunk, you probably don’t remember. Sometime in September of the year before, I’d been up all night trying, and you called me at home.” The memory comes back in a tidal wave. You’d just finished recording your EP, your first cohesive body of work, and with it had been signed to Sub Pop. Things had been looking up for you after cutting things off with him in July, but somewhere far away, Eddie had been drowning.

Before you can say anything, he continues, “Anyway, we were on a kind of hiatus as a band, had been for about a year at this point. I had nothing to get me out of bed before three in the afternoon, nothing to distract me from my pity party. I went out every night, drank until I couldn’t see, and did lines in the bathroom with people I didn’t care to know. I probably slept with six or seven different people a week, sometimes more. I couldn’t stop, because then I’d have to feel my feelings, and I was so afraid of them. One time,” He has the gall to chuckle, “after I got kicked out of a bar in New York for trying to fight the bouncer, I was so wasted and beaten that I fell asleep in my front yard with my pants around my ankles. Really glad I don’t have neighbors.”

It all pours out so easily now, like he’s telling you about his trip to the grocery store. “I uh, only got worse after that.” He stops, and you look up at him, waiting with wide, stinging eyes. “You sure you want me to keep going?” You nod. You don’t want to know, but you have to. As much as you suspect it’s gonna hurt, it means something that he’s finally willing to tell you.

He pushes forward. “On New Year's Eve of ‘91, I mixed whiskey and Steve’s Xanax. Way too much of it. Harrington found me passed out in the bathroom of my hotel room at around 1AM and called an ambulance. I'd written a note and everything.”

He pauses again to let you digest it all, and the silence sends a piercing ring through your ears. The words coming out of his mouth feel so far away, disconnected from the mouth they’re coming from. You’d never known Eddie to give up. Nothing had stopped him before; from finishing high school, from getting out of Hawkins, from being a rockstar. Regardless of how angry, or frustrated, or beaten he'd gotten, Eddie had always bounced back.

He finally pulls you from your thoughts. “That was the worst of it, but it had been a long time coming. When we were,” He gestured lamely to the air, “seeing each other, I was usually either on a run or coming down. I didn’t hide it well, I was almost sure you’d known, or at least suspected something. I was so angry and twitchy all the time. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t bring you into it, though. I never wanted you to know, and in a lot of ways I still don’t. Actually, please tell me you don’t wanna know. I’ll shut right the fuck up.”

“Nice try, but you underestimate how nosey I am.” He laughs, and you smile despite it all. “When did you start, I guess doing coke?” He doesn’t think about it for long. “Ironically, New Year’s Eve 1990 was the first time. I was a pro at it by May. I'd been drinking heavily for years by then, guess I wanted to jazz it up to ring in the new decade.” He stops walking and pivots to look at you, suddenly eager, and in no way aware of how jarring what he’d just said was. “Do you remember when I would get nosebleeds all the time, or when I’d sneeze and there’d be a giant snot bubble?” You nod, your face contorting with disgust at the memories. You remember a specific time, when you’d been making out with him in his hotel room in Boston, and his nose had just started dripping blood onto your bare chest. He’d gotten so pissed off at himself he’s left without putting his shirt or shoes back on. “Yeah, that had nothing to do with the humidity. Deep down, I think you knew that.”

He’s right, but you can still feel the crack in your heart spiderweb and spread as you hear these suspicions about Eddie confirmed.

“When was the last time?”

“The first or second night of the tour, I think.”

“Are you still drinking?” Dustin’s question makes more sense to you now. You wonder how he’d found out.

Eddie hesitates, as if fighting himself on whether to answer truthfully. “I didn’t today. It’s the first full day I’ve gone in a while. Touring is always difficult, and I’m sure you understand why this time is uh, particularly stressful.”

“Because of me.” Obviously.

“Because I know how badly I’ve hurt you, and because I know I haven’t made it up to you yet. I haven't earned your trust or even your time by any means, and I hate that you’re seeing me like this when you should be enjoying your first full US tour.” He chokes the last words out. You’ve stopped walking again, waiting at a deserted intersection, not yet ready to cross. “I’ve been fucking up recently, which is why I haven’t said anything. It’s not because I don’t want you. I want you so, so much. I just can’t do it yet.”

“Eddie,” You reach for him, and he lets you. You hold his face in your hands, feeling his flushed cheeks warm your palms as you look at him under the streetlights. “You don’t earn things like help and support, Eddie, not from people that-“ You pause. Not now, it’s not fair. “People that care about you. Thank you for telling me, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling; surrounded by triggers at all times, having to see me so much. I never would have agreed to the tour if I’d known—,“

He cuts you off, shaking his head, wafting the scent of his shampoo at you. “Don’t do that, please. This is not your fault, this is my own undoing. You are exempt from blame here.”

“I wish I’d known you were struggling. I wish I could have helped.”

Eddie traps your hands with his own on his face. “I know. I do, too.”

A sob shoves its way through your lips, and you can’t rebuild the dam fast enough. You’re crying, ugly sobbing with snot and mascara painting your face into a sad clown. It may be a cry of relief, having finally understood where your love had gone, so to speak, and seeing a glimpse of him right now. A version of Eddie happy, warm. He smiles at you, a big, beautiful smile, but his eyes are so sad. “I wish I had known to ask. Would have saved us both so much trouble.” Eddie drops his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to him, your coffee quest long forgotten. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” You do not fight it, because there’s so much for him to be sorry for, regardless of if you want the apology. You trust that he means it. “I won’t push you for anything else. But I need you to ask for help, when you need it. I'm not gonna turn you away.” You wrap your arms around his torso, as physical proof of your words. You feel his arms as they surround your head, and he pulls you further into his chest. His breathing deep and even, heart beating soundly, you let yourself inhale him, indulge in his closeness even for a second. You eventually start to pull away, but he catches you, and you crane your head up to look at him, your nose inches away from his. Eddie’s eyes flick to your lips. It’s a fraction of a second, but you notice because you always do. You mimic him, flicking your eyes over his soft, pink lips and back to his deep, sweet brown eyes.

He moves first, but you’re quick to follow, and Eddie catches your lips with his, and you fight the urge to once again burst into tears. The kiss is one you haven’t felt in so long, like sleeping in your own bed after months being crammed inside a van or a two star motel. It’s a deep, yearning type of kiss you hadn’t known you were missing. Eddie moves a hand to cradle your head, like he’s holding the most valuable thing in the world. He’s gentle, almost timid, like the wrong move will ruin everything, break you both into pieces you won’t be able to fit back together. His lips are so soft, with no aggression or anxiety behind them, no nervous, frantic energy like he needs to consume you before you disappear. He takes his time, and you swim in the calm of it all. You rest your hand on his jaw, your finger lightly brushing his ear, the other stuck with your palm against his chest, squished between your bodies.

The last time Eddie kissed you like this was the day before he almost died. Before he cut that stupid sheet rope and tried to be a hero, he’d held you like you were the only thing on earth worth dying for. This time, though, there’s no rush, no impending doom to cut it short. You wonder if you’re pushing it, if this is too much for him, because it’s almost too much for you.

You pull away for a second. “Is this allowed?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I think I know what you’re asking, but what do you mean?”

“Like, while you’re recovering. Shouldn’t you be more focused on that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Probably. And I will be. But I’m sober right now, at least, and all I can think about is you. And now you know everything, and you still kiss me like I’ve always been worthy of it. Even when I’m still not.”

“Do I really know everything now?” You lace your fingers through his and resume your walk.

He looks at you. “Do you have more questions?”

You have so many, but you’re so tired, so emotionally drained. “What do you think about, when you think about me?”

Eddie snorts a laugh at your question and you hide your face in your free hand. “Nothing good. You’re under my skin, doll. Always have been. Hey, look at that,” you look to where he’s pointing, the bright lights of the 7-Eleven store. “I’m kinda over coffee. You wanna watch a movie? For old time’s sake?” You nod wordlessly as your heart skips about, and he opens the door for you so you can grab some snacks instead.

Another hotel room, with boring white walls and bright white bed sheets. Eddie’s suitcases already sit in the corner, placed there by the hotel staff, complimentary mints on the pillows. Eddie flicks the bedside lamps on before fiddling with the remote, and you immediately realize, you’re once again without your own clothes. “Could I borrow-“ Eddie throws a shirt that lands perfectly draped over your face and you’re overwhelmed with his scent. “Thanks.” You deadpan, removing the fabric. He’s tossed a pair of his shorts onto the bed in front of you as well, and you’re silently grateful, because you wouldn’t have asked for them. He quickly flings his shirt off his head, and you watch as he swaps his jeans for a pair of worn flannel pajama pants.

Eddie then clicks the TV on, searching the channels aimlessly for something to watch before quickly giving up, muting it on a late night talk show. “How are you doing?” He’s already sprawled on the bed, resting his head in his hand to look at you, still in your clothes.

“I’m just digesting, I guess.” You face away from him to pull your sweat soaked shirt over your head and toss it on the floor, feeling his eyes on your bare back. You never wear a bra onstage, but you’re regretting it now. You yank Eddie’s shirt over your head to hide your butt as you yank your tights down, suddenly very aware of the color of your panties: red, and far too lacy for these circumstances. You yank Eddie’s boxers up your legs, and feel decent enough to face him again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He blurts as you slide into the space next to him, on top of the covers still.

“What do you mean?”

“After dark, sharing a bed, sharing my clothes,” He gestures to you, dressed head to toe in Eddie Couture. “Someone might see us. People are gonna start getting suspicious.”

“You think they’re not already?” You shift to lay on your side, now looking at him straight on. “We aren’t exactly being discrete as of late.”

He gives you a half shrug. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“The fans, making assumptions.”

You think about your choice of words. “I thought it would. I think it bothered me more that they weren’t right.”

Eddie cracks a goofy smile, and you swat at him uselessly. “You want to be having a steamy secret affair with the douchebag frontman of Corroded Coffin?” He teases, poking at you.

“Oh, shut up.” There’s no malice in your voice. “You know what I mean. They have it all figured out. We’re together, in love, not ready to share it with the world or whatever. Much less complicated than whatever it is we’re actually doing.”

Eddie considers this for a moment. “Guess that’s true. I don’t think I could explain any of what we’re doing to Steve, let alone the public.”

You sigh. Poor, ignorant Steve. There’s only so much you’d be able to tell him for sure. “He’d have a heart attack.”

“I’ve already spooked him enough for a whole lifetime, I can’t drop this bomb on him too.”

“Let’s not worry about that. We don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“I just know I wanna keep doing it.” The way he says it sends you reeling instantly, drawing you into him, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You melt into him, wrapping your leg around his waist as he grips the flesh of your hip. Your hand slides effortlessly into his hair, tangling around your fingers, pulling a moan from Eddie’s throat as you tug him further into you. You can feel his gentry twitch in his pants, only a few thin layers of fabric separating him from your core. You roll your hips against him, sighing as his tip bumps against your clit, desperate for friction.

Eddie moves, latching his lips onto your throat causing your brain to fog. Your chest heaves as he nips at your skin, marking you, making your head swim with pleasure. You feel his fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt, his calloused fingers sliding under the fabric to caress your skin, sending chills up and down your whole body. You shiver, and he pulls away. “Wanna stop?”

“Shouldn’t we?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

So you kiss him again, hungrier now. You help him yank his shirt over your head, abandoning it on the floor next to yours. Eddie shifts again, pressing your bare chest against his before breaking the kiss suddenly. “May I, uh,” He stutters like he’s a nervous teenager again, as if he’s seeing his first pair of boobs ever.

“Please.” You sigh, and it propels Eddie on, shifting down the bed until he’s eye level with your chest.

“God, I missed you.” He rasps, and you don’t have time to ask if he’s talking to you or your tits before he runs his tongue over your nipple, pulling a whine from your throat. You feel his other hand slide down your torso, freezing when it reaches the waistband of his boxers. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me take care of you?”

—

chapter XIX

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