shimmerwindow - Tumblr blog

shimmerwindow · 26 days

Text

I Never Really

Part Nineteen

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Marijuana use

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag List: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper @torniturntomyarrow @dannythedog

To your absolute dismay, it no longer felt right waking up in Sam’s bed. You felt guilty, somehow. Immediate anxiety flooded your veins the moment sunlight hit your eyes and you rolled over to stare at his sleeping form. He was already awake, godlike and radiant with the light of the sun playing off specks of gold in his eyes.

Motions that had once felt so natural felt odd and foreign to you now. You had become so used to waking up next to him, and he would wrap his arms around you, and you would curl your body against his chest to revel in his warmth. The embrace of his arms never came, his hands tucked beneath the pillow. You were wracked with guilt, certain that you should have never spoken to him last night. Tears were already threatening to fall from your eyes before a word had even been spoken between you.

“We should probably talk,” he rasped, his voice still broken from sleep.

“Right now?” You weren’t sure you had the capacity to have this discussion, especially immediately upon waking up.

“Maybe not this very second. But some time today.”

It felt like you were about to be scolded by your mother, or berated by your boss. Your anxiety over this situation ran so high for a moment you thought you might actually vomit, but you managed to hold yourself together. “I’m sorry,” you said, tears spilling from your eyes and your head starting to ache. “For…everything.”

“Save it.” There was fire behind his eyes, a flame you’d seen many times before, when he was annoyed with his brothers or frustrated over school. He was actually angry with you, something you’d never seen before, and it scared you a bit. Not that you were frightened of him, but you were frightened of what it would mean for your future, what it would mean for you. “We’ll talk later. In my room.”

The remainder of the morning whisked by through your tear-blurred vision. He checked to make sure the house was empty before rushing you outside, out to his car, and back to the dorms. As you closed the front door behind you, you had taken one last long look at the inside of that house. It would likely be the last time you’d see it, with its creaky floorboards, chipped paint, eclectic furniture, and welcoming aura. A piece of you would remain there forever, and you knew that.

He ushered you up to his room, though with how high your nerves were, it felt like you were being escorted to the electric chair. You may as well have been – to live without him was a metaphorical death sentence. His dorm had gone through some changes between semesters, adopting his typical maximalist style more so than before. Posters you recognized from his room at the house adorned the walls, and the window sill was lined with as many plants as it could hold, all of them lush and green.

“I hate to say this,” he began, taking a seat in the corner of his bed with his back against the wall. He picked up a lighter that had been stashed on top of the soil of one of the plants, fidgeting with it. “But I’m more disappointed that you lied to me than anything.”

You sat across from him, as far away as possible, and you realized why this felt so familiar. Your positions now were identical to the way you'd sat with him the last time you’d had a conversation of this nature. Full-circle, as always. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, but…” he sighed, eyes trained on the little pink plastic lighter as he twirled it between his fingers. “Sorry won’t fix this.”

“What about you?” You couldn’t fight the urge to immediately go on the defensive. “You were with that other girl last night. Had you still been talking to her the whole time I thought it was just me and you?”

“No, actually.” He looked at you, and you could see truth in his eyes. “Hadn’t talked to her in ages. Probably shouldn’t have called her at all.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” He scoffed, turning his eyes away from yours. “Is that what you’d call it? A mistake?”

You realized he wasn’t talking about his own actions. “Listen, I know you’re not happy with me. But why are we talking about this at all? I fucked up, and I know that. So we should just drop it, drop all of this, drop each other.”

“You know neither of us can.”

“Maybe we should learn, then.” You spoke softly, hoping your voice would not reach your own ears.

“Or maybe, we could just…keep some distance.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

He pulled his shirt collar aside, scratching at his shoulder. Just to the side of his collarbone, a circular bruise had blossomed, in the shape of your teeth. The sight of it made you ache, a feeling you knew would not be sated for a long time – if ever again. He didn’t respond, clearly trying to gather his thoughts, yet failing.

“I’m not tainted, you know,” you mumbled. “I’m not ruined because I…did that. And you’re not innocent, either.”

“I know you’re not. It’s about the trust. You lied to me.”

“You never made it official.”

“I didn’t think I needed to.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And you made it clear you wanted to wait, anyway.”

It dawned on you that perhaps you’d also been the one to put him in a difficult position. To expect him to stay perfectly faithful, when you had betrayed his trust and lied to him about it, was incredibly unfair.

“And I didn’t think about it from your perspective.” He fidgeted nervously, trying to work it out in his head. “It probably looked like I was leading you on. But I didn’t realize you’d go running to the one guy I kinda made off-limits to you. But, also, it was unfair to make someone off-limits to begin with.” He shrugged, twirling the lighter between his fingers.

“We’re both guilty.” You stared down at your hands in your lap, your eyes tracing over the remnants of the scar still present on your palm. A reminder of the love you’d shared so briefly, much more permanent than the finger-sized bruises on your hips.

“Space, then. We need to step back.”

“God, I don’t want to do that.” You whined it like a petulant child, squeezing your hands into fists.

“Do you love me?” He turned to face you, his eyes boring deep holes into you. With the gloomy sunlight hitting him, you could see the bruise on his face much more clearly. His brow was still a bit swollen, the remnants of a dark circle present in the yellowish color marring the space under his eye.

“I do.”

“Then we need to.” He held out his hand for you to take, entangling your fingers gently. “I can’t lose you permanently. Take some time to heal and I’ll do the same.”

The idea that you had to heal from anything – especially the wounds you gave each other – was mortifying. It brought you to tears, though you had none left to let fall.

“How am I supposed to live like this?” You asked.

“When you figure it out, let me know.” He tried to give you a smile, though it didn’t convey anything but sadness. “We just have to suck it up. No contact. I won’t text you, and you won’t text me.”

“No more walking to class together.”

“No more dinners together, either.”

“What if I run into you at the plant sale this week?” You said, a smile forcing its way to your lips.

“Just pretend I’m not there.”

* * *

The two of you managed to successfully avoid each other, for the most part. For a week, you didn’t see much of him, only the occasional glimpse between classes as you passed on the walkways. You’d always pretend as if you hadn’t seen each other. It was painful, but less than you'd anticipated, in all honesty. It was not a soul-crushing sadness that consumed you, but something more like a sense of relief. It was nice to finally prove to yourself that you would be okay without him, and to finally have time to reflect on your actions.

You were able to admit to yourself that you had, in fact, slept with Jake as some form of revenge. It hadn’t been conscious at the time – you'd been so deep in lying to yourself about everything, it felt natural to add another tangle to the web. But Jake had never been someone you’d wanted to pursue, not until you realized how badly it would hurt Sam if you slept with him. Neither of them had deserved any of it.

By the second week, something started to shift. You’d taken the time to own up to your actions in your own head, and the guilt that once crushed you began to dissipate. When you saw Sam, you’d stop, say hi, make up some excuse to talk – maybe you remembered some random knickknack you left in his room, maybe he remembered you still had one of his shirts, though it was always a lie. And both of you knew it.

At the third week, on one Friday night, he texted you. Something simple, only saying hello and asking how you were. You’d told yourself not to reply, fought with yourself typing and deleting paragraphs declaring your love over and over, until you wrote an equally bland response. Things continued this way for weeks, the occasional talk, the random texts, all of it cordial and simple.

Until one night, when you’d had a bit too much out of the wine you’d snuck into your dorm, and he’d been feeling a bit too bold. You’d texted him something a bit too risky, and within minutes, you heard a knock at your door. That had been the first night you’d broken your own rules, and it seemed to be a constant cycle from there.

Space was not something you could successfully keep. Not when you would “accidentally” run into each other on your way back from class. Not when he would stare at you with those eyes the color of Venus, smile at you with a mouth of perfect teeth and pink lips. Not when you would visit him in his dorm, with the intention to help him with an assignment, a code both of you learned quickly. Every time, it would end with your clothes on the floor, your naked body against his, your head on his chest as he held a smoldering joint between his teeth. Today was one such day.

“We really shouldn’t keep doing this,” he said, absently brushing his fingers through your hair. “Probably not good for us.”

You were quiet for a minute, listening to the crackle of paper burning as he took another hit. “But it’s so nice, isn't it?” You grinned, even though he could not see your face, playing the part of the devil on his shoulder.

“Sure is.”

You watched smoke curl up and away from you, sucked out the window by the gentle breeze. Spring was nearly here, midway into April, the chill finally gone from the air until the next batch of snow came. Spring in the midwest was a fickle thing. It was too cold at night to open your window, but you still always did – there was something about that smell of spring you couldn't resist. The buds on the trees, the first of the flowers poking their heads out of the ground, the birds returning, all of it was breathing new life into you. And, with any hope, breathing something necessary back into you and Sam.

It had been almost a month now of this song and dance between the two of you. It was almost as if nothing had changed, but you came closer to more arguments than before. You never fought, not outright. One of you would always back down before things could escalate too far. In all honesty, you wished the two of you could fight. There were plenty of things you needed to hash out, but you never quite could bring yourselves to bring it up. You’d both call it protecting your peace, but it felt like you were only doing more damage. You’d talked it all through to death, your mutual apologies numbering in what felt like the thousands. There were no hard feelings anymore, but the scars still lingered.

They’d started playing shows more frequently as of late. The venues had gotten bigger, cover charges had turned into ticketed events, and on a few occasions down in the city, lines had formed outside. You heard whispers of some guy down in Nashville, something about albums. It was bizarre, and didn’t quite seem to be sinking in for any of you. At the end of the day, Sam was still the wonderful, corny weirdo you’d fallen in love with. Even as you watched from the wings while women and men alike screamed and cheered for him and his brothers. The band even had a name, now. A strange one, but somehow it fit perfectly.

“There’s a show at the house tomorrow,” Sam remarked, his calloused fingers tracing shapes into the soft skin of your back. “Want to come?”

“Of course I do,” you replied. “But will that be…awkward?”

He shrugged, the motion making your head bob a bit. “It wasn’t too bad last time.”

You hadn’t seen the other guys much in the past month, only once, when you’d “happened” to run into them at a bar. The whole space thing between you and Sam had made for an interesting night. The two of you kept an almost ridiculous amount of distance, not even making physical contact once, sitting at opposite ends of the group, barely interacting at all. His brothers hadn’t quite known what to do with the whole situation, all of them glancing awkwardly between the two of you the entire night. Ultimately, they left it alone, knowing better now than to get between whatever you had going.

“I’d have to disagree,” you replied, pulling closer to him.

“For all they know, we’re still on that healthy distance kick.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“You know how I get after your shows.”

“I’m well aware.” He laced his fingers into your hair, absently playing with a few strands. “What is it about that, anyway? Does people screaming the wrong lyrics get you going or something?”

You laughed in sync with him, rolling off of his chest to lay on your elbows, looking at him. “It’s your hands, mostly. The way your fingers move…” you imitated the way his hands would fly across the strings of his bass.

“Really? These things?” He held the joint between his teeth and wiggled his fingers at you. “All calloused and fucked up?”

“That’s the best part,” you grumbled.

“Guess I just don’t get it.” He reached behind him to stamp out the end of the joint, every curve in his body a masterpiece to your eyes. “So are you coming to the show or not?”

You pondered it for a moment, turning the idea over in your head. It seemed like a perfect recipe for disaster. But the days were getting longer, the sun shining warmer on the days it didn't rain, and a part of you was aching for a drunken night of music and joy. “Sure,” you sighed. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

#sorry this one took so long it was so hard to write omg #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #inr #i never really #sam kiszka #greta van fleet sam #gvf sam #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fan fiction

28 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 27 days

Note

One update for Sammy birthday???? 👀👀👀

i rly tried but i'm totally stuck right now 😞 working my hardest for you guys i promise!!!

1 note · View note

shimmerwindow · 1 month

Text

just a heads up for inr readers - the upcoming chapters will likely take longer than normal to come out. i've been 3 chapters ahead of release throughout this entire fic, but i'm now caught up with myself.

we're getting closer to the end, and i want to make these last ones PERFECT. so please forgive me if they take 2 or 3 weeks instead of 1 like usual 🙇🏻‍♀️

#inr

1 note · View note

shimmerwindow · 1 month

Text

I Never Really

Part Eighteen

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, alcohol use, smut

Sexual content: Fingering n' fuckin. (it's a quick one)

Playlist | Masterlist

“Are you busy tonight?” Josh’s voice was cheery on the other end of the phone you held to your ear. “You should come out with me and Danny!”

You had no desire to leave your dorm whatsoever. You hadn’t felt the need to leave, except for classes, for the past two weeks straight. Most of your free time was consumed with sleeping, to avoid the aches in your heart. “I really shouldn't. I’ve got some homework I should catch up on,” you lied.

“That’s what you said last time,” Josh said, sounding a little whiny. “Just come out. You won’t regret it.”

“I can’t. Have a good night, Josh.”

“Wait! Listen, you’ve been cooped up in there for weeks, haven’t you? That’s so terrible for the mind. Just a few drinks, nothing ridiculous, it’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

He’d called you a week ago asking the same thing, but he hadn’t alluded to knowing anything about the situation. You figured he must know, but he was giving you the space to only ask for support if you wanted it. And you didn’t feel like you deserved anything of the sort. “I feel fine.”

“You sound like you’ve spent the whole day fuckin’ crying. Just come out with us. Just for an hour, that’s all I’ll ask.”

He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer, stubborn as he was. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said no, he would come knocking at your door within minutes. “Fine. One hour. Then I’m going home.” You figured that was as long as you could hold it together for, anyway.

“Be there soon.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up.

You pulled on something halfway decent-looking, trying your best in the mirror to cover up the dark circles under your eyes. You still looked a mess, but in the dark lighting of a bar, nobody would be able to tell you’d spent the last two weeks crying your eyes out nightly.

You met the two outside, Danny pulling the car around with Josh riding shotgun. You slid into the back, your mind in a daze, still unable to pull yourself out of the fog you’d been in.

“Hey, how ya doing?” Danny asked, turning around to give you a smile before he drove off.

“I’m alright.”

“You sure don’t look it. No offense,” Josh said, turning to face you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “None taken. Life’s been a bit hard lately.”

“I hear that,” Danny replied. “Sounds like you need a drink. Or five.”

“Not too much, now,” Josh said.

“I’m guessing...you guys know…” just attempting to say the words wracked your body with indescribable pain. The two of them stiffened, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. You wished you’d never brought it up at all.

“I mean, we don’t really want to…” Danny started.

Josh picked up where he left off. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen. And help. If you want it, of course.”

“I don’t want to trouble you with all of that.” You waved a hand and offered a weak smile.

“It’s no trouble at all.” Danny flashed a grin at you through the rear view mirror.

“We can talk about it later,” you replied.

Later came quickly, several drinks in, as you and Josh slurred your words and spoke far too loudly over Danny, the only sober man in the room. One hour turned into many, and your heart finally opened, and you began to pour out all of the words you’d let linger inside of you. Voices drowned out most of your ramblings, as did the droning country-pop blaring from the radio.

“They’re both just fucking assholes,” you said with a flourish of your drink, nearly knocking a bystander in the head with it. “Both of them.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Danny had been attempting to be the voice of reason, though it was difficult while caught between you and Josh.

“This whole situation is fucked up. I don’t get it, why didn’t you just tell Sam?” Josh asked.

“Because I knew he was fucking around with that other girl!”

“So what?” Josh gave an exaggerated shrug. “Fuck her. You deserve him more.”

“I think she was trying not to be a homewrecker, Josh,” Danny said.

“Exactly.” You set your drink down a bit too hard, sending droplets splattering onto your arm. “I really like him, I– I love him, so I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“You didn’t want to hurt him,” Danny began. “So you slept with his brother. Right.”

“Listen, I just thought…” You stopped in your tracks, the weight of your actions washing over you like waves of mercury once again. He had a point you couldn't refute.

“Those two, they’re always, like…” Josh snapped his fingers a few times, his eyes to the ceiling, searching for words. “They’ve got the same taste in women, I think. Causes problems sometimes.”

“Has anything like this happened before?” You asked.

“Not quite this severe.” Danny rested the toes of his shoes against the bar, leaning his chair back a bit. “You’ve got both of them all shook up like I haven’t seen before.”

“They don’t usually fight like that,” Josh added.

“Jake, he had a–” you gestured to your cheek, motioning in the shape of the bruise you’d seen. “Sam didn’t do that, did he?” You weren’t sure whether you actually wanted to know the answer.

The two exchanged glances, and Josh nodded, slowly.

You groaned, running a hand across your face. “Don’t tell me Jake busted Sam’s pretty face, too.”

Josh squinted at you, holding up two fingers in a pinching motion. “A little.”

“Jesus, I’m gonna kill both of them. Fighting over me like fucking cavemen.”

“It’s par for the sibling course, darling. Don’t worry about it too much,” Josh said. “We’ve all taken and given our fair share of ass-kickings.”

“Still doesn't make it right,” you sighed. “I wonder if Sam ever even liked me the way he said he did. Maybe he was just messing around so he could fuck.”

Josh blinked at you. “What on god’s green earth would make you think that?”

“Well, he just…he was able to move on so fast–”

“First of all,” Josh began, “All he’s talked to me about was you for the past fucking month. Also, he didn’t move on.”

“He didn't?”

“Of course not,” Danny chimed in before Josh could speak. “I don’t even think he’s seen anybody else since you. Not that we’ve heard, at least.”

“But I haven't seen him…not even once. Clearly he doesn’t care that much if–”

Josh cut you off with a loud, exaggerated groan. “Why are you arguing?”

“Josh,” Danny urged. “Be gentle.”

“Gentle? I don't need to be gentle. You–” he grabbed your shoulders, his light touch contrasting the edge to his words. “Need to realize that he loves you.”

“We never said that,” you said, struck suddenly by how Josh and Sam shared the same eyes. So kind, and inviting. “We never said I love you.”

“Then maybe you should. Because he's said it about you. Maybe not to your face, but he's made it plenty clear.”

“You just need to talk to him, honestly,” Danny said, gently lifting Josh’s hands from your shoulders. “Have you tried reaching out?”

“I haven’t,” you said, a bit guilty. “I thought that if he wanted anything to do with me, he’d have texted me first.”

“Then that’s exactly what you need to do. Call him, text him, hell – go knock on his door. Talk to him in person.” Danny watched you as your lip began to quiver, thinking about the anxiety of having to address your wrongs straight in the face. “It’s not gonna be easy. But you can’t just let this…fester. You two were made for each other.”

“Jesus, you really think so?”

“Everyone thinks so,” Josh said with a wide smile.

"Even Jake?" Just the act of letting his name grace your lips brought forth an entirely new wave of anxiety.

The two men paused, glancing at their drinks, though the silence was not awkward. "I think Jake..." Josh started, finding the right words. "I think he just wants you to be happy. He didn't really understand what was going on between you and Sam."

"Clearly," you mumbled.

"Jake is a bit territorial," Danny added, spreading his arms wide. "When Jake thinks a girl is his, he takes it seriously. More seriously than he probably should."

"Especially when he's not trying to date anyone." Josh's words betrayed a deeper annoyance, like this exact situation had played out far more than once. "It's partially on Sam for not mentioning how serious the two of you were sooner. But Jake won't sabotage you now that he knows," he shrugged. "But you still need to talk to Sam."

“Fine, then.” You took another deep swig from your drink. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him everything. Tomorrow.”

“Atta girl!” Josh exclaimed, giving you a pat on the back.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” you mumbled.

Outside, the sound from the crowd drained away, only the loudest of shouts and heaviest of glasses clinking audible behind the glass doors to the patio. You were too drunk at this point to keep a steady conversation going, but it was pleasurable nonetheless. Josh and Danny were an incredibly funny duo, and just a few minutes of casual talking had your sides in stitches from laughing.

You felt, dare you say, better. You did seem to have a terrible knack for avoiding talks you didn’t want to have. But Danny and Josh had assuaged those worries that kept you from saying what needed to be said. It was likely mostly the alcohol speaking, but you were feeling confident in your ability to finally speak to Sam. It needed to be done, no matter what. If nothing else, he deserved closure from you. An admission of the truth, straight from your lips.

The three of you couldn’t last long in the cold, huddling together to shield yourselves from the wind that whipped past the nearby buildings. Josh and Danny cracked first, and with a “fuck this,” they headed back into the bar, with you in tow. The two of them had just barely passed through the hallway back into the main section of the bar when they stopped dead in their tracks, so quickly you ran into Danny’s back, bumping your glass on him and sending an ice cube tumbling over the leather.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, peering around both of them to see what had stopped them so suddenly.

It all seemed to happen so fast. Both of them turned around at the same time, stepping towards you, blabbing nonsense about how you should go back outside. But not before you caught a glimpse of the bar, straight ahead. Many unfamiliar faces, among them two you knew. One of which you knew well.

Sam sat at the bar, a drink in his hand, his arm around a girl, who was resting herself against him. A girl you recognized from your worst nightmares, some of which were waking. He was talking to her, a smile on his lips. In an instant, his eyes caught yours through the gap between Josh and Danny’s shoulders. His smile faded, turned into something you’d never seen. Like his lips would never know the sweet feeling of a smile again. And he turned away.

Josh and Danny had to nearly drag you back to Danny’s car, as your legs threatened to give out with every step with the force of your sobs. People stared, whispered at each other under their breath, but you didn’t care. You wished you’d gone blind. Your stomach churned on the ride home as you prayed to any god to turn back time just a few months.

Everything was a blur. You barely processed anything as Josh rubbed your back through your heaving cries, or kind words were offered from Danny when you screamed that Sam never cared about you at all. You wished you were being dramatic, you wished this was all not as serious as you were taking it. You wished you’d never thought of your future with him, that you’d never given yourself the space to hope and dream. The walls he’d broken down would be replaced swiftly, and sturdier than ever, you thought.

Danny, ever the caregiver, sat with you as Josh stumbled his way to bed. He gave you all the blankets you needed to quell the shaking your body refused to quit, as many tissues as you needed to dry your eyes. He listened as you rambled, drunkenly, about the same topics over and over. Rehashing the events of the past months, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a solution, though there was none.

You'd taken Danny for some kind of frat-boy-type, player, seducer. But sitting in the living room with him, letting him hold your hand for support while he told you everything would be alright, you realized you’d painted him as far too one-dimensional. He was kind, and only wanted the best for you, even though he didn’t know you all that well.

You insisted you didn’t want to be a bother, and that you’d walk yourself home. He physically held you back as you tried to get up from the couch. “Absolutely the fuck not,” he said.

You’d pushed, saying you needed to be alone, you didn’t want to keep anyone up with your crying. “I should just go,” you insisted. “I can't–”

“Shush.” He placed a hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair a bit. “I didn’t bring down all those blankets and pillows for fun. Use them. Go to sleep.”

Sleep seemed like an impossible, far-away pipe dream right now, even through your exhaustion. Still, you were thankful he'd given you a warm place to rest your head, where you wouldn’t be entirely alone. “Thanks Danny,” you said, almost able to force a smile onto your face. “I’m sure I’m being a lot right now. I–”

“Don’t even think about apologizing. You needed a friend, that’s alright. Now go to bed.”

You did as he said, resting your head on the pillows. “Is…is he coming back tonight?” You glanced at the front door.

Danny followed your gaze to the door, looking at you plaintively. “Probably not. And Jake’s gone for at least the weekend. Don’t worry about that right now, though. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

You nodded in agreement, letting your swollen eyes slip shut as Danny turned off the lights. “Sleep well. We can talk in the morning.”

In the darkness, alone, your mind wanted you to think it all over again. You were exhausted, drained beyond belief, unable to even comprehend the events laid out in front of you. It took great effort, but you were finally able to relax just enough to drift into something resembling sleep.

That is, until you heard keys rattling in the front door. You shot up, staring at the door, your heart pounding immediately. Someone was out there. Someone was about to walk in. You prayed it was Jake, prayed he would simply walk right past you with nothing more than a half-smile and a nod. The door opened quietly, and you watched closely at the way the person swung it quickly past the points where it would creak.

Sam stood in the doorway, motionless, the door still open behind him, cold air pooling over you. He said your name, questioning, just barely loud enough for you to hear. You said nothing – what was there to say? You wished he would just ignore you, walk past you, go up to his room and slam the door. Instead, you watched, captivated, as he took his coat and shoes off, locked the door behind him, and sat down on the other end of the couch, cross-legged, facing you.

“Hey,” he said. A forced casualness tainted the word.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” You meant that. There was no saving what you’d had.

“I know.” He let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t…know what to say.”

You could just barely see him, his features only dimly lit from a light in the kitchen. You pointed to his temple, where the remnants of a bruise darkened his skin. “Jake did that to you. Didn’t he?”

Sam nodded. “Does it look cool?” There was not an ounce of humor in the words.

“Why did you fight over me?”

“Because I thought I deserved you more.”

“You deserve far better than me.”

He tsked his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want anything but you.”

“But you were with that girl tonight.”

“Because you’re not mine anymore. Or, I guess, you never were.”

“Fair enough.”

“We never fucking talk,” he hissed. You were sure he would have shouted, if he could. “This is our problem. What we're doing right now. We never just fucking talk to each other. I’ve said it before, and neither of us change it.”

“I thought we were doing alright.”

“But you didn’t tell me you had been fucking my brother on the side.”

“It was twice. And I wanted to tell you, I was planning on it, I just–”

“Why? After everything I told you, why him?” You could see tears in his eyes, glistening against the glow from the streetlights peeking through the curtains.

You took a long pause. You wished there was a better answer, something more concrete or absolute, but the truth was all you wanted to say. “I don’t know. You weren’t there, and he was. It was fucking stupid of me. It wasn’t to hurt you, though. Not consciously. I saw you with her, and I figured there was no way you could want me more than someone who looks like that.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Sure.”

“I’m trying to talk to you.” Another batch of tears was lining up behind your eyes, though you couldn’t fathom having any more left to cry. “I just want you to know the truth.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? Now, or ever?”

You could only shake your head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s been so hard,” he said, his hand coming to idly rest on yours, splayed out on the couch between the two of you. The simple touch felt like grabbing a fistful of snow with bare fingers, icy and shocking. “I don’t know…I’m just not me without you.”

“I know.” Tears started to fall again, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. Your eyes were already irritated enough from the hours you’d spent sobbing in this very spot. “I can’t bring myself to do anything.”

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“I think we have to answer that ourselves.”

“I just can’t survive without you.” His fingers walked up the back of your hand, wrapping gently around your forearm. “But we’re killing each other. I can’t…” He pulled his hand away, and hesitated. Stillness filled the air when his fingers ran across your cheek, wiping away a tear there. “I can’t see you like this. I can’t do this to you.”

“I can’t do this to you, either.” You mirrored his gesture, your thumb running trails over the tracks of tears on his face.

“Can I…” he shifted, gesturing to you to come closer. Despite your better judgment, you fell heavy into his arms, resting your cheek against his collarbone. That scent again, it hit you like waves, dredging up every hope and every wish you’d fought so hard to bury over the past two weeks. You wished you could lay this way forever, a familiar position you used to adopt when the two of you would lounge in bed together.

“Can we just pretend everything is normal?” You said, with the lightest hint of a forced laugh.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please.” The word was choked, nearly a sob. “Just give me this one night with you.”

“We can’t.” His motions contradicted his words as his hands pulled you closer to his chest.

“Just tonight and then we can both forget.” It stung to say it, like a papercut. “We can forget about each other. I’ll forget about your whole family. It can be like we never happened.”

You heard him suck in a hitched breath through his teeth. With hands that trembled, he cupped the sides of your face and drew you in, stopping short of a kiss. You wanted nothing more than to break past his hands, meet your lips with his, feel every inch of him under your mouth. You needed him more than could be expressed in words or actions, it was far deeper, something soul-crushing and gut-wrenching.

He felt it too. And he was not strong enough to resist. He pulled you in, kissing you, with the fervor of a man who has waited his entire life for this moment. He tasted salty, the taste of your mutual tears collected on the corners of your lips; a reminder of that night at the bar with him, the salt of his neck.

You tried to hold yourself back. You knew you shouldn’t let this go any further, but your hands moved on their own to wrap around his neck. “We shouldn't do this,” you mumbled, peppering kisses along his jaw.

“Then stop.”

You couldn’t, and neither could he. It was so unceremonious, but there was something sacred about your movements. The way he ripped the blankets off of you, the way his hands slipped under your shirt, the way you pulled at his hair and fumbled with the button on his pants. Neither of you needed to ask – you were far past that point. It was all unsaid, as many things tended to be between the two of you. He only needed to give you that look he’d given you however many dozen times in the past, the one that you’d reply to with a nod and dewy doe-eyes.

Things were a blur, hands grasping and fingers trailing over flesh, lips colliding with fervor in dead silence and darkness. You could just barely see his face, but you didn’t need to see much. The sound of his breathing, the scent of his skin, it all led you back home.

He shoved your pants down to your knees, dragging you into his lap, his lips never leaving yours. He shifted your bodies, leaning his back against the couch, straddling your knees on either side of his.

“You always smell so good,” he whispered into the side of your neck. “I dream about it.” He slid a hand between the two of you, running a finger through the wetness already drenching your thighs. “I wake up sometimes and I could swear you’re right there next to me.”

You’d done the same, thought you were crazy for being surprised at the other half of your bed being cold and empty every morning. You couldn’t vocalize it, not when he slid a finger into you and you had to bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself silent. But he could feel it from you, the subtle agreement present in how your nails scratched thin lines into his biceps.

“Is that good?” He asked, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

You let out a muffled mhm, your teeth still sunk into his shoulder. If you hadn’t already broken the skin, you would leave a bruise for certain. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

You trailed your hands over the fabric of his shirt, down to where you'd managed to haphazardly undo the fly of his jeans. You hadn’t realized your fingers were cold until they settled on the warmth of his cock, making him suck a breath in through his teeth and jump back a bit. The two of you stifled muted laughs at the exchange, and even if it was only a glimpse, it was heartwarming to feel a brief moment of humor.

Your bodies moved in time quickly, your hand moving in languid strokes along his cock as he worked you open with his fingers. You didn’t want to wait, having waited long enough, having suffered more than enough lately. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before you were begging him for it.

He slipped himself into you with little grace or fanfare, desperate for it. You let out a strained breath, watching what little of him you could see in the dark. You weren’t prepped quite enough, the stretch of him knocking the wind out of you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word coming out shaky. “You feel better than I remember.”

You let out a downright pathetic whimper, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, your legs already trembling.

“Move.” It was a command, not a request.

It was difficult, trying to force your body to move when each drag of your hips threatened to pull a moan from your lips.

Words piled up behind your teeth when he pulled you closer, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck. Your face buried in his hair, you tried to take all of this in. The silk of his hair against your cheek, the smell of sweat and cologne, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each shaking breath. It was so beautiful, so bittersweet, a gorgeous agony you’d never be able to forget.

“Just say it,” he said lowly. “I can tell you want to say it so just fucking say it.”

“I love you.” It spilled from your lips brutally, the sound crashing against the walls of the room like thrown fine china.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Sam.”

“More.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, you’re everything to me, you’re my stars, my sky, my universe–”

He wrapped his hands tighter around you, tight enough that you could barely breathe. But you didn’t feel the need to breathe, not when you were filled with him, surrounded by him. Your mind started to unravel, giving in to sheer, untethered bliss. Your eyes slipped shut and in the darkness you could see gold.

“I love you too,” he said, softly, casually, like he’d said it a hundred times. Maybe, in his head, he had.

This couldn't be it. This couldn’t be the last time you’d feel him this way. He broke into a steady rhythm, keeping himself buried inside you for the most part, grinding his hips against you.

You mumbled sweet nonsense against his neck, planting kisses between every word, chanting his name like a mantra in the hopes you might stay this way forever. “I never want you to let me go.” Both physically and emotionally, you meant it both ways.

“I can’t,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine me without you. I can’t imagine the sky with no moon and no sun.”

You exhaled a breathy laugh against his skin. “Still so corny.”

“I know how much you love it.”

You had to fight desperately to keep quiet when his hands wrapped around the bottoms of your thighs, lifting and dropping you slightly with each thrust of his hips.

“Stay quiet, baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

He’d never talked to you like this before, never during sex. This was more than just sex, though. What you were doing was something intimate, something deeper, something you both desperately needed. Some kind of closure, or the opening of another door, you couldn’t tell which one quite yet.

A quiet moan slipped past your lips when his hand dropped down beneath you to press against your clit, the perfect amount of pressure, just the way you liked it. His free hand clasped over your mouth, gentle but forceful.

“Quiet, my love.”

My love.

You were getting close to a peak you knew you couldn't keep silent, waves of it washing over your body and sending sparks down your spine, into the tip of every limb. He pulled his hand away at just the right time for you to warn him.

“Sammy, I’m–”

“I know. I can feel it.” You could faintly hear the rumble of his own groans that he caught in his throat, keeping himself quiet with what seemed like great effort.

“Is it better?” He asked.

“What?” You gasped, your focus faltering.

“Do I fuck you better than he does?”

There was no hesitation. “Much better.”

He pulled back a bit, searching for your face in the darkness, finding it and catching your lips in a kiss. There were so many words unsaid that passed through that kiss, every confession, every lie you’d ever told, it was all so glaringly obvious in the way your lips met.

His fingers were digging in tighter against you, his legs starting to shake with effort. He was just as close as you were, fighting, struggling to hold himself back.

“I don’t think I can– oh, god, Sammy, I can’t keep this a quiet one,” you warned him.

“Me neither,” he laughed, breathlessly.

His hand shot up to cover your mouth as you let out a sound that was far too loud. He, too, grit his teeth against whatever noise threatened to make itself known as both of you tipped over the cliffside of your peaks, together. A groan like a sob tore itself out of his chest and he had to cover his own mouth, his head falling back against the couch.

You held onto his shoulders for dear life as he plunged you down into a world of untethered pleasure, his name falling from your lips even though it didn’t make a sound. Stars exploded across your vision, your legs failing you as all you could do was grind helplessly against him. Your hips moved of their own accord, chasing the remnants of bliss.

His fingers gripped your waist after a moment, stilling your movements. “Stop, stop, oh my god,” he whispered, a desperate edge to his voice from the overstimulation.

There was no rush to separate. Neither of you wanted this moment to end. It was clear this was not something you could stop. Your love was an unstoppable force, and you both were incapable of living without it.

“Did you mean it?” His tone was nonchalant, as if he didn’t care what your answer would be one way or the other.

“Of course I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

The question caught you off guard, diving in so deep so quickly as you were still dripping into his lap. Gazing into his eyes, and the profound sadness you found there, you spoke a thousand words all at once. Wanted you, got lonely, took the next best thing. You could see it in his face; he understood.

“We need distance,” he sighed. An ironic thing to say, given where he was mere minutes ago. “If we’re not going to date. If we don’t trust each other.”

“But tonight…?” you didn’t finish the sentence, letting it play out in each of your heads.

He didn’t reply, only lifting you off of him, the two of you haphazardly pulling yourselves back together, and he lead you by the hand up to his room.

41 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 1 month

Note

Inr day inr day inr day!!!!

Highlight of my week honestly

THE WAY I FORGOR TO PSOT. i'm uploading it rn i swear SO SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING BEAUTIFUL ANON

0 notes

shimmerwindow · 2 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Seventeen

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, brief allusion to suicidal thoughts

Playlist | Masterlist

You awoke with an uneasy feeling in your chest. Something didn’t feel quite right, though you couldn’t put your finger on what, exactly. Maybe it was the fact that the daily good morning text from Sam you’d gotten used to wasn’t there. He hadn’t even told you when he’d gotten home last night, like he usually did. You were a bit anxious thinking about it, and the feeling only got worse when he wasn’t there to walk you to class.

By the end of the day, you were starting to feel genuinely nervous. You’d texted him a few times, with no response. He didn’t even read the messages. The sun set, and rose the next morning, with still no sign of Sam. Those nerves turned to a knot of pure anxiety in your stomach. You considered going down to his floor and knocking on his door, but decided against it. That seemed to cross some imaginary line in your mind – after all, it's not like you were dating the man. Maybe he’d been hit with a sudden deadline, maybe his phone was broken, maybe maybe maybe.

The sun was starting to set once again when you felt your phone vibrating on the bed next to you. You grabbed at it so quickly you felt a little embarrassed, turning it over to see the screen. An incoming call from Jake. Your stomach dropped through the floor and your palms started to sweat – something must be wrong. Jake hadn't called or texted you for weeks now.

You answered the call. “Hey, what's up?” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking.

“You’re at home, right?” Jake’s voice seemed equally strained.

“Yeah, why? What’s going on?”

“I’m outside. Come downstairs.”

You stumbled out of bed, grabbing your keys and your coat with shaking fingers. “Why? Have you heard from Sam? He hasn’t texted me all day–”

“He’s fine. But we need to talk.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, worries and relief all at once. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

He didn’t even say goodbye before hanging up the phone. You felt incredibly far away from your body as you speed-walked to the elevator, and down to the lobby. His car was out there, idling in the parking lot. You watched the steady plume of steam crawling from the exhaust be whisked away by the wind as your feet crunched over the snow and ice.

You barely had the door closed before he was driving off, down a road you’d been on once before. You knew immediately, he was taking you to the place you’d last been with him. Glancing at him, you noticed a reddish bruise along the curve of his cheekbone. It looked fresh, the spot under his eye still a bit swollen, marred with the same color. You were thoroughly trembling by the time he finally parked the car.

“So!” he began, his voice loud enough to make you jump, though you were already on edge. “Care to tell me what the deal is with you and Sam?”

Your mouth went dry, and you were suddenly dangerously nauseous. “What do you mean?” Your voice wavered.

“Please, for the love of god, don’t play dumb.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if you were already giving him a headache.

“We’re–” you swallowed thickly around a lump in your throat. “We’re talking.”

“Seriously?” He narrowed his eyes at you, slinging an arm over the steering wheel and turning his body to face you. “Talking? That’s the narrative you’re going to feed me?”

“I just mean, talking as in, like…” you couldn’t continue. You couldn’t quite place what about this conversation was making you so nervous. Jake seemed to cast some sort of aura, one that could so easily impact your mental state. When he was pissed, you could feel it, even without words. But you didn’t have anything to hide. It hadn’t been a secret, though you and Sam had been rather conservative in front of the family. Out of respect, or to hide it, you weren’t sure.

“As in, you’re fucking, right?” Jake said it as more of a statement than a question.

“Well…yeah.” He’d shown you more than enough times that there was no point in trying to hide anything from him. “But I don’t think that’s–”

“Not my business?” He smiled at you, though there was not a glimpse of humor in that flash of teeth. “As if it wasn’t me and you long before him.”

“Why are you so mad? It's been months since the last time. And–”

“And I wasn’t as important, hm?” He turned his palms up in a half-shrug.

“That's not true.” You lowered your voice, averting your gaze. You didn’t actually know if it was true or not. Jake, at the end of the day, had only been a placeholder. A seat-filler, someone to take the place of the one man you thought you couldn't have. It had meant something, but not all that much.

"So, let me get this straight–"

"Jake," you huffed, interrupting him. "Can you just slow down? What the hell is all this even about?" The pieces were starting to fall into place, although your mind would not allow you to even glimpse at the full picture. "Sorry if you heard me and Sam fucking in his room, or something, but you didn't have to drive me all the way out here to scold me for it."

"Alright, alright." He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Let's start at the top. You were with me, now you're with him."

"I haven't been with either of you."

"Sorry, you were fucking me, now you're fucking him. And I don't appreciate that all too much."

You rasped out a sigh, your stress over Sam boiling over into anger, now. "You don't get to dictate who I choose. That's not how this works. Sam already figured that out, seems like you need the same lesson."

"You're misunderstanding me. It's not that, it's because it's him."

"What do you mean?" You shook your head, already exhausted with this discussion.

“So I was just some springboard to get you closer to Sam, right? Just your launch point to reach him.”

“Jake,” you sighed. “It's not that serious. Plus, I didn’t think what me and you had was all that important to you.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Seems like every time I see you, you've got someone new in tow.” You were struggling to contain your anger at this point. “Don’t try to tell me I was anything different than your flavor of the week.”

“It was important, though. And you were the only one…” the anger in his voice faltered a bit. “You were the only one for a while. Until I figured you’d gotten bored.”

“You’re making quite the fuss over a whole two nights, Jake.”

“Two of the best nights of my life, actually.”

It felt like a line he'd said to many girls before you. “Either way, it was twice,” you sighed. “Let it go.”

“We're losing the point here,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t play a part in some jealousy game. And you played me regardless.”

“Jake, I didn’t–”

“It was all just to piss him off, wasn’t it?” His jaw was set, and his teeth bit at the inside of his cheek between sentences. You’d never seen him angry like this. “I don’t appreciate being played like some chess piece in your feud with him. Even if it ended well for you.”

“Please, just listen to me! It wasn’t like that, okay?” You were growing exasperated. “Maybe I had some ulterior motives, but if I did, it wasn’t on purpose. I wouldn’t have fucked you at all if…” you trailed off, stopping yourself before you could finish. You’d just dug yourself another hole.

“If you’d thought you had a chance with him? So I was just the backup? Next best thing?” He shook his head, his eyes looking out at the snow-covered overlook.

“As if I didn’t just happen to be the one easy girl in the room at that Halloween party.”

“You might think I’m just some kind of…womanizer, or something, but you’ve got me all wrong, angel. I liked you. I really liked you. Despite my better judgment, I still do. For you, not for the way you look, like you seem to think.”

“But you didn’t love me.”

"Does Sam love you?"

That question was one you hadn't expected to hear from his lips. You were certain of the answer, despite never having heard it directly from Sam. Every one of his actions was drenched in his love for you. "Of course he does." You said it with complete conviction.

He paused, turning his gaze back to you and letting his hands fall into his lap. “And what if I did too?”

You could feel the magnitude of those words shake through you like an earthquake. He didn’t. He doesn’t. “But you don’t.”

“Love is a strong word,” he sighed. “My feelings for you wouldn’t be correctly described with a word of such weight. But it was certainly more than just thinking you’re hot. Which is why I’m not pleased you made me a victim of your game.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” It felt like he was talking you in circles, with no clear goal to his lecturing. “I'm sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have slept with you when I knew how complicated the situation was, and when I knew Sam was the one I wanted the most. I just didn’t think it would end this way.”

“Neither did I.”

“Can we just…forget this? Leave it in the past? And can you please just keep it to yourself?”

“That's the other thing we need to talk about. Too late for that."

Those last four words made you feel like you’d just stepped off a cliff. Your body went numb, your ears ringing yet the world going eerily silent. “What?”

“He knows.”

You opened your mouth, finding the words caught in your throat for a moment. He stared at you in silence, waiting patiently. “No he doesn't,” you said softly.

“I told him.”

You had to fight the urge to reach across the center console and claw his eyes out. After all that talk of how much he liked you, he was more than willing to fuck up the once nice thing you'd ever had in your life. “Jake.” You drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep a level head as rage threatened to overtake you completely. “Why would you tell him? What did you say?” A part of you prayed he was lying, just trying to gauge your reaction as some kind of sick test.

“I wanted him to back off. I'll be honest, I didn’t realize it was so serious between the two of you. I thought he was trying to steal you.”

“Steal me?!” You screamed it at him, finally snapping. “When you– as if I even– god, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

With every word, his eyes widened a bit, and he shrunk further against his side of the car. “Maybe if you’d told me he was the one you actually wanted, I would’ve never–”

“Was it not fucking obvious?” You ran your fingers through your hair, pulling at the roots, your bottom lip starting to quiver.

“Not to me!” He bit back. “Not to anyone else but the two of you!”

“And that’s why I haven't seen or heard from him for the past two days, right? Right, Jake?”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

“I hope you’re happy.” You jabbed a finger at him, inches away from his face. “I hope this is everything you were hoping for.” Tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t bother even attempting to choke them back.

“You’re the one who decided to hook up with me,” he said, gently pushing your hand away from him. “Were you just planning on hiding it forever?”

“I was going to tell him on my own time,” you hissed. “I wanted to be delicate about it. I’m guessing you just screamed it in his face like an insult.”

“Not quite.”

“Did he give you that?” You pointed to the bruise along his cheekbone. “Did he beat the shit out of you for me?”

“Would it make you feel better if he did?”

“I fucking hate that, you know. When you answer my questions with a question.”

“To be honest with you, angel, I don’t really care.” There was a bitter edge to his words now.

“I hate you.” When it left your mouth, you expected to regret it, but you didn’t. Not even a little bit. In this moment, you meant it.

“Good. I deserve it.”

"When did you tell him? What did you say?"

"A couple days ago. Just asked him to back off, and he snapped on me."

You didn’t want to hear another word, your tolerance for him already past its breaking point. You flipped up the hood on your coat, hooking your fingers around the door handle.

"Hey now, hold on–” He reached for you as you made your way out of the car, trudging away from him through the snow. He got out after you, calling your name. “You can’t walk from here!” He shouted at you. “It’s too cold out! You’ll freeze to death!”

“I don’t care!” You called back, not slowing down even as the bitterly cold air whipped against your skin. It was brutal, but you figured you could make it. You heard his car door close behind you, and you kept walking. At this point, you really didn't care.

The mental numbness wore off within a few steps, and it all crashed down on you piece by piece, as if you were slowly being buried by an avalanche. He had ruined everything for you. You felt so fucking stupid, thinking you'd had something worth keeping with this group of brothers. You looked to the horizon, to the dark swell of the road and the mounds of snow pushed aside by the plows. You probably couldn't make it, but you didn't care. With any luck, the snow and wind would swallow you up, and you would cease to exist on this planet anymore. Maybe that would be for the better – none of this would hurt you if you'd never been born at all.

His car started up, and his tires crunched across the snow towards you. You wouldn’t look at him when he slowed to your walking pace and rolled his window down.

“Get in the damn car.”

“No.” You still wouldn't look at him, feeling like a defiant child.

“It’s at least five miles back home. You’re not walking all that way. Get in.”

You knew you couldn’t make it back. But some part of you was too prideful, too ashamed of your own mistakes, too hell-bent on disappearing into the snow to never return, to get back in his car. Even as the wind battered every inch of exposed skin, your fingers nearly numb, you didn’t care. You figured you deserved this, for putting this family through such hell.

He called your name again, more stern this time, in a tone that actually made you stop. “You’re bleeding, by the way. Get in.”

You hadn’t realized, in all your anger, you'd been digging your nails far too hard into your palm, scratching at the half-healed scab there. A single droplet of blood ran down to your fingertip, and you watched it land in the snow, spreading out along the ice beneath. Your tears were nearly frozen to your cheeks when you finally looked at him. It was a look of agony that he gave you, more expression on that face than you’d ever seen before. And it hit you that he didn’t want this, either. Both of you had been trapped. Caught in a place you didn’t want to be in, stuck between two hells. Whichever path both of you had decided to take, it wouldn’t have ended well.

Considering the severity of the bruise blossomed along Jake’s cheek, Sam likely wouldn’t have taken the news well, even if it was from your mouth. Sure, it would have been a more peaceful resolution than flying fists, but you doubted he would be able to forgive you. It was a mistake, a slip-up you should have never made, but it broke many fundamental rules these men seemed to live by. You hadn't really been able to comprehend it at the time – the weight of fucking your crush’s older brother. Put so simply, it seemed like an awful thing for you to choose to do.

“I didn’t want this,” Jake said, his voice wavering. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t I just be happy?” You asked, to nobody in particular. “Is this really what I deserve?”

“No. I'm…not happy about any of this, either. But I don’t want you to be damn near killing yourself over it.”

You couldn't think of anything more to say, falling silent as your chest heaved with labored sobs. You stood motionless as you heard his door open and close, and his footsteps on the snow in front of you. The toes of his shoes appeared in your gaze.

“I can’t fix this for you. But I can make it a little easier.”

“How?” You asked, the word exploding from your chest in a gasp.

“I don’t know yet.”

His hand settled on your shoulder, and you felt no need to push him away. He’d fucked up, but in the end, he was right. You were the one who’d decided to sleep with him. You couldn’t blame him for the outcome of your own bad decisions. You couldn’t have possibly expected all of these lies and secrets to hold themselves together forever.

Without thinking, you fell against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face into his neck, reveling for just a moment in that familiar scent of vanilla. Sobs wracked your body as you hung off of him, wetting his jacket with a torrent of tears. He said nothing more, only holding you gently and allowing you all the time in the world to cry.

“I don’t hate you,” you choked out between gulps of frigid air.

“I know.”

34 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 2 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Sixteen

Warnings: Angst, mentions of sex, physical altercation

Word Count: 3.8k

Playlist | Masterlist

Life felt, simply, good. Even as the break wound to a close, and the bustle of a new semester began, you felt so uplifted. There had been such darkness clouding your every waking moment until now. You hadn’t even realized it, really. You’d become so complacent with living in darkness that the concept of light had no longer existed to you. Not until Sam had come along, swinging open the doors to your mind and turning on every light in the room.

Sam was back in the dorms, which was a blessing in your eyes. He had your schedule memorized, and would walk you to class any chance he got. There was a bit of conflict with your daily schedules, and you didn’t share any classes, but that was alright with you. Too much of a good thing could always be a bad thing.

Your every-other-day walks across campus with him were always one of your favorite parts of the week, though. While walking recently, he’d snatched your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. You couldn’t help but feel like you were just a kid again, enjoying simple pleasures, even silly little things like holding hands.

And of course, there were the moments when the two of you found yourselves alone. Whether in your dorm or at the house, if you could catch even the slightest glimpse of solitude, you would be all over each other. The moment a door closed or a car pulled away, you would be clawing at each other's clothes, ripping them off, getting up to whatever devious acts you desired that day.

Most weekends you spent at the house, as a reprieve from the soulless dorms. Conveniently, nearly every weekend you were met with an empty house for at least a twenty-four hour period, where the brothers would go gallivanting on whatever adventures they typically got up to. Sam didn’t typically tell his brothers you were coming over. It’ll invite too many questions. They’ll get weird about it. Trust me, he’d told you. They were an odd bunch, and you did, indeed, trust him. You’d see them every once in a while, for a handful of hours at a time, but the house parties were few and far between during this time of year. The “slow season,” they called it.

Today was one of those weekends, a cozy Saturday night. You sat in the living room, watching some mindless TV on mute while he plunked away at the piano in the room over. A light snow was falling outside, and flames roared in the fireplace. He’d made dinner for the two of you, his cooking skills never failing to impress. Tonight’s had been far too spicy for you, but the flavor was so good you hadn’t minded. “We need to build your spice tolerance,” he’d told you, like a drill sergeant talking to a new recruit, while you held a tissue to your watering eyes and running nose.

It’d been close to a month now, since your confession, and everything seemed to be working out beautifully. Jake had called you a couple of weeks ago, asking if you were busy, to which you'd graciously declined. Though if you had been feeling any weaker in that moment, you were sure you would have gone for it. He truly had such a way with words, and was really a master of seduction. But although there was no formal relationship between you and Sam, you felt a certain kind of loyalty to him.

You figured that if either of you wanted to be with other people, it would be allowed. If someone else came along for him, you would not be mad. It would be crushing, sure, but you only wanted the best for him. And you were sure he felt the same, too. But right now, you made each other happy. It was enough without a label.

“Hey,” Sam called, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Yes?”

“Can you listen to this next one?”

“I’m always listening, Sammy.” You repositioned yourself to face him, his face peeking out from behind the piano. “But I’ll listen extra hard for you.”

He smiled at you, turning his eyes back to the keys. He started to play, a soft and delicate melody. You didn’t have the knowledge to describe exactly what he was doing, but it felt light, a bit airy, like springtime. You watched his brows knit in concentration as he pulled notes from the keys, everything executed perfectly. Or at least, it sounded perfect to your ears. It felt golden, circular, the texture of lush grass in a field of flowers. It seemed to bring you back to a place you'd never been before.

You swayed slightly with the beat, your eyes closing as you focused on taking in every drop of sound he ushered to your ears. It was an indescribably beautiful tune, one that felt like it encapsulated love and light. You were struck by just how much you loved him. You hadn’t said it, not out loud, not yet. You were saving it, the two of you moving along at a pace that would be agonizingly slow to anyone else. But it wasn’t bad. Not when it was him. He stopped playing, silence and the crackle of the fire filling the room.

“It’s not finished, and most of it’s just made up as I go, but…do you like it?” He asked.

“I love it. It's beautiful.” You smiled at him warmly, to which he grinned and turned his eyes away.

“I wrote it for you. I know that’s like, super corny, but I just…” He sighed, stretching his arms over his head. “You’re really inspiring.”

“Me?” His words felt like something straight out of a dream.

“Yes, you.” He stood, making his way over to your spot on the couch. “It’s weird, I've never wanted to make music for someone before. I wasn’t sure what to do with this–” he clutched at his chest, miming the action of ripping his heart out. “Like, how do you turn that into music, you know?”

“I do know.” Somehow, you did. You were not musically minded, but you understood every word. It was a language of love.

He wrapped his fingers around your jaw delicately, tilting your face up to catch your lips in a kiss. “Can I tell you something?" He asked.

“Don’t.” You held a finger against his lips. “Save it.” You knew what he wanted to say – the words both of you had been avoiding. I love you.

In the silence that followed, your eyes locked with his, a thousand words went unspoken. Save it for when it’s special. You didn’t mean any harm by keeping that word at bay, and you both knew that. Things were just so delicate at this point, given your shaky past, that it felt wrong somehow to say it. Like sailing on a ship without a name, some kind of bad omen seemed to surround it.

Though, that feeling stemmed from the scars, still healing, that you’d given each other. They were not plentiful, nor were the wounds deep, but they could still be felt. And it all just felt too good to be true. An utterance of a word as powerful as that one felt like it could shatter the both of you. When the dust settled, when you’d confessed to him your dirty little secret, when your work at school was done and you could properly settle into something serious, that was when you would say it.

“Haven’t earned it yet, hm?” He said through a toothy smile.

“No, I’m the one who hasn’t earned it.”

“Can’t say I agree, miss eclipse.” He brushed a thumb over your cheek. “You’re more of a miss sunshine these days, though.”

“That’s a shame. I love the moon.”

“I know you do. It’s a full one tonight. We should go look.”

“It’s so cold, though.”

“There’s a perfect view from my window. Haven’t you noticed?”

You shrugged. “I usually have a much better view when I’m in your bed.”

“And you're usually a bit busy, too.”

You gave him a playful shove, to which he dramatically stumbled backwards. “Wow. My girl, pushing me away like that…guess I’ll sleep alone tonight!” He put on a mock pout and crossed his arms, though a smile threatened to break his act.

“No, please!” You bounded across the room and wrapped yourself around his waist, resting your chin on his crossed arms. “Please find it in you to forgive my transgressions.”

“I suppose I can overlook it this once,” he said, pulling you closer into a tight embrace.

“Speaking of sleep…”

“Tired?”

“A little.”

He tilted your face up to his. “Are you actually tired?”

He could read you like a book. “Not really.”

Taking your hand in his, he whisked you up the stairs, into his room. The minute the door was closed behind him, his hands were on you, pushing you back against the bed.

“Wait,” you gasped, your fingers under his shirt against his waist.

He froze immediately, backing a half-step away. “Did I do something?”

“No, listen.”

You stood in silence for a moment, both of you holding back labored breaths. Footsteps and chattering filtered up through the floor below your feet. The guys were back.

“Well. Shit,” he laughed, backing away from you to lock the door.

“I could, you know…” you splayed yourself out on his bed, stretching your limbs with a sigh. “I could be quiet.”

He cupped his hands around your knees, giving your legs a little shake. “I don't know if you could. Remember your performance at the bar?”

“Okay, but that was different.” You fought back a smile. “I really could.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Tempt you?” You pulled yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of you. “Fine. Come here. We’re just gonna cuddle. Promise.”

“Right, obviously.”

Cuddling was far from the word you’d use to describe how the rest of the night went. You were just barely able to keep your volume down, his fingers clamped tightly around your mouth nearly the entire time to muffle your noises. You weren’t anything near silent when he made you cum, your muffled moans still loud enough to reverberate against the walls.

Although you were certain at least one of the guys had heard you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when most of the nights you spent here, you had to hear some kind of racket coming from at least one bedroom. If not the wails of some other woman, it was the sound of any number of instruments, the blaring of music, the loud cacophony of voices in conversation. You couldn’t fathom how anyone got a good night of sleep in this house.

Peace finally settled in the room afterwards, as you crawled into his embrace under the sheets. These moments were something you could never get enough of – the texture of his bare skin beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body against yours, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. He was always so gentle with you, physically and emotionally. He always knew how to talk you down when you were stressed or angry.

He'd learned so many of your likes and dislikes so quickly, and it showed. It was evident in the little gifts he gave you, the things he did for you, and the words he spoke to you. Not a single compliment was empty or without careful thought. You couldn’t have possibly asked for a better man for you. It seemed almost too good to be true.

* * *

When the night was said and done, and the moon faded into sunlight, a peaceful day awaited you. Sam drove you back to the dorms – you had a few assignments you wanted to crank out before the weekend was done. Sam had headed back to the house for some Sunday chores, though the peace that you felt that morning did not follow him home.

There was something in the air. Sam didn’t consider himself anything resembling a clairvoyant, but he could read the vibes of a room at an easier level than most. And today, those vibes were nasty. He’d tried to stay out of the way of the others as much as he could, even declining Josh’s offer for brunch. He was taking a poster off the wall to bring to his dorm, when he heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sam!” Jake’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Get the fuck down here.”

“What do you want?” Sam called back.

“Come here. We need to talk.”

A sense of dread started to rise in Sam’s throat. Jake didn’t normally talk to him like that, unless something was seriously wrong. It seemed that bad feeling had been more than just unfounded anxiety. He made his way downstairs, where Jake stood with his arms crossed.

“Heard you in your room last night. You wanna tell me what that was about?” There was a rage behind Jake’s eyes that Sam rarely saw.

“Oh, god.” Sam couldn’t even make eye contact, his cheeks starting to burn a bright red. “Were we too loud? That’s so fucking embarrassing, I’m sorry–”

“So you were really…” Jake clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That part doesn’t matter. But why her?” He said your name, in a questioning tone.

Sam wasn’t quite following what Jake was laying out. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me.” When Jake got angry like this, he seemed larger. Either that, or Sam seemed to shrink in the presence of Jake’s rage.

“I’m not playing anything. What are you trying to say? Because it seems like you’re implying something pretty shitty right now.”

“Sam, drop the fucking act. This doesn’t have to turn into a fight.”

“It really seems like you’re looking for one.”

“If you really want to play dumb, I can let this go. Just don’t fucking do that shit again. Leave her be.”

“Leave her be?” Sam turned his palms up, his face twisted in utter confusion. He had no idea what Jake was trying to say here, unless he was trying to say you were anything less than perfect. An accusation which Sam wouldn't stand for. Not that he would care about Jake's opinion on you regardless – Sam knew you, and that was what mattered.

“This is a dangerous game you’re trying to play with me, Sam. We both don’t want to see how this ends if you don’t drop her.”

“I’m not dropping her. What, did you hear some rumor about her or something? I don’t care what gossip you’ve heard. She’s an amazing girl.”

“Gossip?” Jake gave Sam a genuinely confused look. He could sense that the two of them were, somehow, on completely different pages. “I haven’t heard anything. But she seems to be jumping straight from me to you. So I'd suggest dropping it before this gets really messy.”

Sam had to pause a moment, each word hitting him like a bullet to the chest. He would not cry, he refused to cry in front of Jake like this. Though tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He prayed for a moment that this was all just a huge misunderstanding. He must be confused, Jake couldn't possibly be saying what Sam thought he was saying. “Jumping from…you to…what?”

“Sam.” Jake sounded stern, like he’d ran this race a million times. He wouldn’t be swayed by the kicked-puppy look Sam was giving him. “Enough. Just leave it. She was mine first.”

“Yours?!” The word exploded from Sam’s chest at a volume that scared both of them. “Tell me you’re joking, dude. Say this is some stupid fucking prank you’re playing on me.”

“Oh, so you didn’t know? Or is this just part of the playing-dumb act?”

“Didn’t know what?!” Sam nearly screamed the last word.

“That we’ve been hooking up…?”

“Of course I didn’t fucking know! She never told me a damn thing!”

“Oh, I’m so shocked she didn’t tell you,” Jake said, his voice laced with mock pity. “Even after you blew up at her for nothing? After that first party? Remember that, Sam?” His volume started to rise to match Sam’s, his words dripping with malice.

“Don’t you dare bring that up. That’s between me and her.” Sam shoved a finger against Jake’s chest. He barely flinched.

“Well, you really fucked her up. So she came to me.”

“I don’t believe this shit. When?”

“Halloween. You didn’t notice when we left? You were so busy talking about your other little thing with Daniel, you didn’t even notice, did you? Speaking of which, what'd you do with her? Just kicked her to the curb the second you got a chance to steal my girl from me?”

It was taking everything within Sam not to just start swinging at Jake. “First of all, that's not your business. And don’t fucking talk about her that way. She’s not yours. In fact, she told me she's liked me for ages. Guess you were just filler while she waited for me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Josh and Daniel, listening in from halfway down the stairs. The two of them had seen enough spats of this kind to know not to interfere, not until a line was crossed.

“And you kept her waiting forever. God knows if she’s even telling you the truth, considering she chose me long before you.”

“When’s the last time you even spent time with her, huh?” Sam was furious now, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Though his mind was far too chaotic right now to direct that anger towards anyone but his brother.

“I mean, it was– it was a while ago.” Jake’s resolve faltered, his voice breaking.

“And how many times…?”

“Twice.” Jake shrugged his shoulders. “But she was still mine long before you.”

“Wow.” Sam laughed, a humorless bark of a sound. “Slept with her two whole two times, and you’re acting like she’s your fucking property. Jesus christ, Jake, have some respect.”

“Respect? You wanna talk about respect while a few weeks ago, you were out there eating my leftovers in the fucking bar bathroom–”

Sam didn’t even feel himself move when he pushed Jake to the ground with a forceful shove. He climbed on top of him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, fist reared back. He could hear Daniel and Josh’s footfalls clattering down the stairs as he swung, his knuckles cracking against Jake’s cheekbone. Jake just barely managed to get off a shot in return, the back of his fist landing square along Sam's temple.

And just like that, the line had been crossed. Josh and Daniel were there in seconds, pulling the two brothers off of each other with shouts of “chill, chill, calm the fuck down!”

Daniel’s arms wrapped around Sam’s, pulling him away from Jake and restraining him from moving closer. Josh kept Jake pinned to the floor by his biceps. Insults flew from both of them, hurled with intent to hurt the most.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you!” Daniel boomed, his voice carrying above the commotion. “You both look fucking stupid, fighting over a girl!”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Sam asked, pulling against Danny’s arms, though his efforts were futile.

“I didn’t know it was any of your business who I fuck.”

Sam said no more – he had nothing left to say. He ripped his arms out of Danny’s grip, and trudged up the stairs to his room. Behind him, he could hear Josh’s peacemaker-voice urging Jake to please leave it.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted to break something, he wanted to call you, he wanted to cry himself to sleep, all at the same time. Above it all, he felt stupid. Of course it had been that way all along. Of course those hickeys had been left by Jake. He’d given you the benefit of the doubt, assuming it was some hookup. Since that first party, when he’d be wrong, he figured you knew the rest of the family was off-limits. You never saw it that way, he now realized. How stupid of him to try to set such a selfish limit on you.

He sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in his hands, choking back tears. It had all seemed so perfect for a little bit, there. He’d successfully navigated the minefield of your affection, he’d stopped talking to the other girl. Just another mistake – why didn’t he tell you he wasn’t talking to her anymore? He could barely even remember what her face looked like, every memory of his clouded with visions of you. Outside, the birds sang on and the sun shined, blissfully unaware of how Sam’s entire world had come screeching to a halt all at once.

There didn’t seem to be any way out of this. As usual, the one he truly wanted had slipped through his fingers. He should be used to it, by this point. Every time he got close, it ended in flames. Someone always got hurt. This was the last time. He couldn’t do this again. He swore to himself that every other girl, from here on out, would be only a friend, or hidden far away from his family.

He thought that phrase over a few times. Every...other…girl. Who else could there possibly be, besides you? You were different. You didn’t fit in the usual rigid box of his “type” that he so carefully curated. Yet, you’d still managed to captivate him, body and soul, in a way no one else ever had. He hated to think that you really were special, a league above all the rest in every way possible.

Except, you were special. It was a phrase he’d heard echo in his head without his consent so many times – the one. That was you. Everything about you was so indescribably perfect in his eyes. It was like he had fallen in love with an angel, one that flew from his grasp the moment he wrapped his arms around you. Maybe he was being a bit dramatic. It had only been a few weeks of knowing it was mutual, after all.

But this thing you two had together, this connection, it seemed so much deeper than anything he had ever felt before. He didn’t even know he had this level of love in his body for somebody. And now, it was being snatched away from him. It was his own fault in the end, he surmised. He hadn’t taken the chance when it was laid out in front of him, and you’d fallen into the arms of someone else. But why did it have to be his brother? And why hadn't you told him? Why had you lied straight to his face? Was he not worthy of the truth?

He had done the same, falling into the arms of another when he’d so foolishly assumed you didn’t like him after his various, mostly botched, attempts at flirting. He almost felt sorry for that poor other girl; she had only been a vessel for the feelings he could not give to you. As Sam lay in his bed, tears quietly staining his pillowcase, you were none the wiser. That night, you slept peacefully, dreaming of him and the future you were so eager to share. If only you had jumped when you had the chance.

35 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 2 months

Text

fun fact: all 80,000 words of i never really have been written on an iphone 13 pro max. no keyboard no computer we die with carpal tunnel

2 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 2 months

Text

Stinging - Jake Kiszka

Kitchen weapons and a good time

Warnings: NSFW Minors DNI, knife play, blood, slight daddy kink, kinky cutting, knives as dildos, unprotected sex

Pairing: Jake x reader

Word count: 2k

Keep reading

#OKAY #FUCK #JTK

209 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 2 months

Text

heyyyy yall i was told the masterlist wasn't working but i think i fixed it! pls lmk if there's any chapters you can't open 🙏🏼

1 note · View note

shimmerwindow · 2 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Fifteen

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Alcohol use, smut (18+)

Sexual Content: Semi-public sex, fingering, cum eating <3, some weird sweat-related stuff idk i was super horny i hope you guys get it

Playlist | Masterlist

When the morning sun filtered in through your window, you were awoken to immediate thoughts of Sam. Per usual, at this point. You took the morning slow, reminiscing on your dream as you made yourself a coffee. It was one you’d had before, of yourself braiding his hair and putting wild flowers in it, but this time it felt different. There was something so sweet and special about how, if you wanted to, you could do that exact thing right now. You pulled out your phone, greeted by a good morning! he'd already sent you an hour earlier.

morning :) you replied.

me and the guys are playing at a bar downtown next week, wanna go?

You didn’t even need to think twice about it.

i’d love to!!

groovy

That feeling washed over you again, the kind where you wanted to scream and kick your feet. And you actually did this time, burying your face in your pillow and letting out an excited wail. It was nearly embarrassing, how much of an effect he had on you. The way he could leave you a blushing mess even when he wasn’t anywhere near you.

Next week couldn’t come soon enough. Through the days between, you filled the time with idle work, trying to keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. On one of your nightly walks, you found yourself walking the route you’d been avoiding lately. The one past the old lot where you’d seen his car. It still stung a bit, but it was reduced to more of a dull ache than anything.

When the day finally came, you found yourself nervous in a strange way. It was a feeling you’d had before, though you couldn’t quite find the words for it. It was something like being a kid again, having a crush and no longer needing to hide it. You began the short walk over to the bar to meet him before the show started, shielding your eyes against the snow that seemed to always be falling these days.

You walked hesitantly into the bar, looking around at the rather large crowd of people gathered there. It seemed to be a full house, though the building was small. You always felt awkward in scenarios like this, and you could never get yourself to feel wholly welcome. Bars were not a place you frequented, and the environment intimidated you a bit at times. Thankfully, Sam was there to greet you as you sidled up to the bar for a drink. He called out your name, squeezing in beside you to wrap an arm around your shoulders in something like a hug.

“So you actually showed!” He shouted over the commotion.

“Of course I did,” you replied sheepishly. “I told you I’d be here.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply you’re a flake. Just didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“It’s not.” You paid for your drink, taking a tentative sip. “I’ll need a few of these before I’ll be having any fun.”

“Well, you’d better suck ‘em down quick. I’ll be up there in a few.”

You took a comically large gulp, filling your cheeks with your drink, to which Sam let out a hearty laugh. “Don’t choke to death. I’ll see you after the show.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and wove his way through the crowd, disappearing through a hallway next to the bar.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible when they made their way onto the stage. It was interesting, seeing Sam in this mindset. He looked different, more focused, a thousand miles away yet rooted in the present. He held his bass a bit gingerly, not exactly the picture of confidence, a half-smile on his face and his eyes turned away when the patrons clapped and cheered.

When the music began, you were utterly captivated. The volume in the space was deafening, but you still strained to pick out every note Sam played. They sounded incredible together, like nothing else you’d heard before. It was a feeling you could not describe, like you’d been here a thousand times before in a thousand other lifetimes. Like your soul had waited for so long for this moment, where you stood watching Sam’s fingers fly across the strings, struck with the weight of the fact that he was yours. You had to force your body to dance along; your mind wanted you to stay rooted, motionless, watching.

Their set ended earlier than you’d expected, as the patrons started to filter out. Not a big enough crowd to warrant a longer show, it seemed. You waited patiently, sipping at whatever drink the bartender had concocted after clearly mishearing your request for a vodka cran, please. There was some commotion, and then a hand grabbed yours off of the bar.

It was Sam. He pulled at your wrist a bit, urging you to your feet. You dragged your gaze up from his shoes to his eyes, taking in every inch of him.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Something you want?”

You hadn't even noticed it yourself, but you were aching for him. Your fingers found their way to his shoulder, your nails scratching along his scalp as you ran a hand through his hair. Watching him had felt so intimate, that feeling of him being yours rushing over you in waves, sending jolts straight down your spine. You wondered if any of the other girls in the bar looked at him the way you did, if they dreamed of having him the way you had him. It drove you a bit crazy, in the best way, to ponder it.

"You," you replied. "I want you."

You barely had time to grab your coat as he was dragging you away, down a hallway it didn’t look like you were supposed to be in. He opened an unmarked door, threw you inside, and quickly locked it behind him. From the singular glimpse of it you managed to get before the room was enveloped in darkness, it was a bathroom.

“Sam–”

“Need you. Now. Can I?”

Just a few words and he already had you dripping, clenching around nothing for him. He had you pinned up against the back of the door, his hand still in yours, braced above your head.

“Yes, please, but–”

He didn’t even give you a chance to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours.

“Sammy, you gasped. “It’s dark, let me see you–”

Without pausing, you heard his hand fumble in the dark for the lights, flipping the switch to bathe the room in harsh fluorescent light. You put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back a bit, needing a moment of silence to take him in.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You look so good.”

“I was gonna say the same about you.”

He was coated with a sheen of sweat, little droplets having made lines along his cheeks and his neck. His skin was flushed, a thing you rarely saw. His fingers plunged beneath the hem of your pants, immediately drawing rough circles against your clit.

You let out a shocked yelp, to which he quickly covered your mouth. “Quiet.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled out, the sound muffled against his palm.

“Unless you want the whole bar to hear you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly in your ear. He was unforgiving, almost rough, as he sunk a finger into you. But You grabbed at his shoulders, fighting not to make a sound.

“How’s that feel?” He growled, burying his face in your neck and leaving gentle bites across your skin.

“Really– fuck, really good.”

He moved quick, much rougher than the last time, like he couldn’t wait. And you supposed the both of you really didn’t have time for being delicate. Any second, a fellow bar patron could come knocking at the door.

He had you worked up quickly, already teetering on the edge of an orgasm when he withdrew his hand. “Get these off,” he ordered, snapping the hem of your pants against your waist.

You complied, both of you a flurry of hands and fabric as he shoved his pants down just far enough to pull his cock out. It was just as stunning as the first time, you noticed, staring at him. Even in the midst of your hurried movements, you paused for a moment to drink him in.

But the moment passed, and he was lifting you by your waist onto the tiny countertop next to the sink. You hissed at the feeling of the cold plastic on your bare thighs, the rough edge digging into your sensitive skin. You barely felt it, though, the feeling soon replaced by the sensation of him dragging his cock over your folds.

“Ready?” He asked, barely waiting for an answer before he sunk the tip in.

You nodded, bracing yourself for the challenge of taking him in complete silence. You failed almost instantly, when he shoved himself against you, burying into you right to the base. This angle was different, deeper. A moan tore itself out of your chest, embarrassingly loud.

“Baby,” he laughed, just above a whisper. “Quiet.”

“Sorry,” you hissed, flinging your arms around his neck. You had to sink your teeth into his shoulder when he started up a rhythm, completely unable to contain the groans he was so skilled at pulling from you.

“Is that good?” He asked, his breathing picking up to the pace of quick panting in your ear. “Is that what my baby needed?”

My baby. “Exactly what I needed, yes, thank you, Sammy.” The words fell from your lips with no filter, you were focusing too hard on being quiet to put any energy into being demure.

He pulled away from you a bit and cradled the side of your face with his palm, running his thumb over your lips. Almost involuntarily, you sucked it into your mouth, raking your teeth over his skin.

He breathed out a fuck, his hips picking up a bit of speed, and replaced his thumb with two fingers. He ran his fingers over your teeth, and you had to fight like hell to keep a moan from rising out of your throat. His fingers tasted salty from sweat, and a bit metallic, from plucking away at his bass.

You watched the thin trail of saliva chase his fingers when he pulled them from your mouth. It was quick, and dirty, and rough. But there was still such love and care even behind the brutal snap of his hips, in the way he lifted the bottoms of your thighs a bit to make you a little more comfortable. And the way he rested his forehead against yours, so you could still hear every little sound that came from him.

What you were doing here, it was so wrong. You’d never been the type to do anything of the sort. But there was such a thrill behind it, the way you kept glancing at the door to make sure the lock was still latched, the way you both listened closely to pick out any sounds of discovery of your debauchery outside the door.

You were losing yourself in him, slowly losing your ability to be rational. You threw yourself at him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist and pulling him closer by his neck. His skin was still coated in a sheen of sweat, the scent of it driving you some kind of insane. You couldn’t stop yourself – your tongue darted out, licking against the side of his neck. It was filthy, but so unbearably intoxicating, and the taste of the salt on his skin was, to your own surprise, delicious.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling away a bit. “Don’t. I’m all sweaty.”

“I know.” You latched your teeth onto his neck, sucking at him until you were certain a bruise would be left there. “Tastes good.”

“Oh?” His hips faltered a bit, and from the way he was digging his fingers into your thighs hard enough to bruise, you knew he was getting close. “Didn’t know you were so filthy.”

“Me neither,” you giggled, each laugh making you squeeze around him a bit harder.

He dropped a hand between your bodies, making quick circles around your clit. You’d already been closer to your peak than you thought, the extra contact rushing you there at a speed that made it incredibly hard to stay quiet.

“You want it inside?” He asked, his voice a bit too loud.

You nodded against the crook of his neck, holding on to him for dear life, your still-healing hand throbbing in response to how hard you gripped at his shirt.

“You first,” he hissed, circling his fingers a bit quicker, positioned just right to leave you a gasping mess. It only took a moment before you were clamping down on him, biting into his shoulder to quiet the moans that rattled from your chest. It was like fire sweeping through you, a burning heat that radiated out from your core to the edges of your body. You shook, trembling in his arms with the force of it, and your attempts to stay silent.

You could feel him twitching in you, his movements slowing to quick, deep snaps of his hips that made you feel breathless. You felt impossibly full, your eyes fluttering closed as he let out small groans through gritted teeth. Everything slowed to a stop, the sounds of music and chatter outside the door beginning to register to your ears once again.

"Fuck,” he breathed against your ear. “That was good.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

He lifted you just slightly, slipping out of you, one of his hands darting under you to catch the combination of your mutual releases that trickled out of you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders a bit harder when he ran a hand through your folds, coating his fingers.

You barely had time to register what he was doing as two fingers slipped into your mouth. “Don’t we taste good, my love?” He tilted his head a bit, watching the way you greedily licked his fingers clean. Somehow, it tasted incredibly good to you. Through the slight bitterness, you could once again taste the metallic tang of his fingers.

“I need to get back out there.” He pulled back a bit, resting his forehead against yours. “They’re probably wondering where I went.”

The two of you hastily pulled yourselves together, gazing at your reflections in the mirror and trying to make yourselves look slightly less disheveled. You caught his eye in the mirror, admiring the slight grin stuck on his face. He was so utterly perfect.

You managed to slip out of the bathroom unnoticed, going about the rest of the night as if nothing had happened. Though the slick feeling between your thighs was a constant reminder of your debauchery. Drinks were shared, the boys and you sharing a toast to a performance well-done. As the patrons began to leave, so did you, giving Sam a discreet kiss as you said your goodbyes.

You didn't notice Jake’s eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you walked back to your dorm. And you certainly hadn’t noticed him running his gaze over you as you'd walked out of the bathroom, hand in hand with Sam earlier. If you’d have known, you would be mortified. Though the remainder of your night was filled with dreamless sleep and blissful ignorance.

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #inr #i never really #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka #greta van fleet sam #greta van fleet

41 notes · View notes