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scuddisher · 1 year

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FOR WHAT IT WAS WORTH

What was once a youthful dream of playing in a band and gaining a loving relationship with the bass player quickly becomes a cold memory as Jeremy leaves you behind for his work as a medical examiner. But as a sudden redemption of his passion for being a musician brings him back into your life, you find yourself holding on to the love and lust you once had—and begging for the future you once dreamed of together.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT PAIRING — ex! jeremy x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — fic, exes! au, bass player! au, (rival) band! au, angst, smut, romance, slight science fiction WORD COUNT — 6.1k WARNINGS — mature content, emotionally painful scenarios, mutual pining, heartbreak, longing, finger biting (bc it’s norman lol), lots and lots of romantical and soft gestures btw SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, loss of virginity, protected & unprotected intercourse, teasing, begging, marking, oral (reader receiving), soft dom! jeremy, mocking, creampie, love-making, the smut is better than the plot lmao RELEASE DATE — DEC 14TH, 2022

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this fic was once posted when i was writing for kpop idols, but has since been changed because i believe it fits jeremy quite well! things have also been shifted to include the whole disease-riddled city scenario, but it’s not a huge part of the plot. my brain wanted to see more of bass player! jeremy so bad and this was the outcome lol… & i know jeremy isn't a well known character so if this flops it flops rip

PROLOGUE.

What had brought you to this moment was a segment of events once working in your favor. It was the gut feeling in your stomach as you had stood on the stage, the lights seeming to blind you more than usual that night.

Your music seemed to thump to the beat of your heart, the light stomp of your foot almost too strong like it could help you walk away from everything before it even began.

Even the nulling screams of blank faces in the crowd couldn't contain your surroundings. The bass player strung along the same as he did every night, turning around once or twice to match a look with the drummer—the one no one could see except for sticks and hair like a muppet. The mechanical keyboard still sounded through all the loud instruments, carrying each beat and matching the hitch to your voice.

They were all there, in place and sound meshing—but the darkening spot to your left felt as though it was empty. Where Jeremy stood, fingertips against the strings of his guitar never missing a beat even with his mind somewhere else, it didn't have his true presence.

That moment, his stirring eyes holding back tears with your voice filling his ears as if you were the only two people in the room. Your vocal cords were gaining a sudden shake to the lyrics as reality set in.

It was the first time you knew you were losing him.

His black eyes were sorrowful, the concert soon coming to a close. With every fiber of energy given to your form from the crowd, adrenaline running through your veins, and his—neither of you could match sight of one another. Not all at once, a hand or limb in your peripheral to reassure you that he was still there no matter how far you were going.

Cold night air draws every bit of warmth from your skin, and for the first time in over two years you don't feel the heat of his hands against your neck. Wrapping his grey leather jacket around you, his scent filling your nose—it was all an allusive thought. A chill down your spine not actually occurring.

But what had officially closed all reconsideration of fate from your mind was his frame hunched at the side of his bed later that night, pen in his hand. All evening he had stayed out of your grasp, just far enough to make your skin crawl and body ache from not having him to hold. Muscle memory, the discomfort of being away from him had finally awakened your mind to witness the scene.

His distance, the shadow of a man you once called your own—and a written note on his pillow for you to find right as the door of your once shared apartment shut behind him for the last time.

His calloused hands playing his bass guitar was what had brought your voice out, loud and clear for the interview that would change your life as you knew it. For all he had done, what it was all worth—his note of nothing more than "I love you. Things have just become too dangerous for you." wasn't enough to coat your breaking heart.

You had watched the dawn rise long before most that morning. Purple skies distorted by your tear-filled gaze, the small page was held against your chest like his final words could stitch the hole he left in your heart.

All that you had pushed out to carry on, to keep your career and band afloat—to find a new bass player. It all diminished in a split second every night that you would have to return to your own apartment alone and cold.

When your own music, your own voice, suddenly began to start sounding like it was someone else creating it—you truly learned what had been lost. But as things returned, new and fresh sounds claimed your hearing, and your band took a turn for the best—the contest that would make or break your careers landed at your feet.

Ten bands competing against one another, only for one to win a record deal and a concert in any stadium of choice—it was a fight to the death for an opening you had been hoping for forever.

All was right once more. Guitar player to your right spinning to match sights with the drummer—who carried on a single spin of a stick between beats like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. The mechanical keyboard only made your voice sound clearer, ethereal to the crowd. The latest band member added—a bass player who could play more riffs off the top of his head than you had ever seen before, and his mere existence on the stage only extended the significance of your band to the crowd and competition.

Your first win seemed easy, too easy for what you had gone through to get here.

But his dark shadow, the scent of his light scented cologne vaguely passing through the hallway as you walked off stage, melancholy voice like music in itself as he spoke to someone. That was all it took to make you halt in place and find him throughout the filled backstage space.

Jeremy, once the bassist for your band—now the leading competitor of the competition, stood in your sight with his once sorrow filled eyes finding your own.

He had claimed to leave due to his second job being a health hazard. It was his way of allowing you to step out into fresh air—to rid yourself of someone who could damage you long term if his life was lost to what he did from nine to five.

But all it took was one look into his irises, his pupils dilating to study you where you stood. And it all came fluttering back to you.

"Long time, no see." His voice cracked with a smile, the same one that made you fall in love all over again.

ONE.

In the flesh, the same skin you had kissed and licked time and time again. The muscles in his arms veiny as he gripped at the belt of his bass, ripped jeans tight around his thighs as he walked towards you.

His voice was like velvet speaking in your direction. "I was hoping to see you here."

You could hear the jingling of the chains at his waist, see the lights shining on his dulled out tattoos as he moved in closer to you. He dressed all the same, spoke in the same fashion, carried himself in the way you knew. And yet the people standing behind him weren't your original band.

"Nice trophy." Your band's new bass player was too easy for him to spot, the instrument on his back in the same way Jeremy wore his—only the member was amplified by the glare of the golden statue in his hold. "He was insane out there."

Your mind stopped time for a second, the strings being played minutes before your own bass player had hit the stage seeming all too familiar. He had been here all along, and it was clear he had seen you long before you had seen him.

His band was holding a silver trophy, a sign that you would be seeing Jeremy much more often in this competition.

The man was like a dream. Every mark on his skin was influenced by crowdwork or his practice. You once counted the hard calluses on his hands every night to help you fall asleep, could still smell the metal on his fingertips from where they would graze the strings when he refused to play with a pick.

His hands still appeared the same, black leather, cigarette behind his ear, fingerless gloves pulled from his hands and stuffed into his front left pocket just as he always did when he finished a set. Those same hands, the ones your own clung to the first night you made love—you had dreamt of them so often.

Even in the deepness of the night, darkness all around and even darker behind the lids of your eyes—you could see and feel him clearly.

How his head had fallen against your shoulder, sweaty hair dripping beads of moisture down your body. His forehead felt hot like he was running a fever, the redness in his cheeks half from the motions of his hips lifting to meet yours and half from the bashful eye contact he attempted to hold with you.

You remembered his eyes the most, their roundness becoming thinner, the small drops of tears from pleasure running from the far corners of his eyes as he fell onto his back and allowed you on top to ride him.

That was when his hands had matched yours, leaving your waist from guiding you—your first time making your body anxious. The way his length had glided into you inch by inch until you no longer felt any pain—your bodies connected in the most human way possible.

It was the first time you had officially taken account of how many callouses he actually had along his hands. On the spaces of his palms where his fingers met, at the top line of his thumb most prominent, and each finger tip being rougher from his pinky to his index finger. His hands held yours so tightly, fingers laced together as you let your lower halves control the motions and pleasure.

It was the first and last time you had given yourself to someone—out of love only, your body being the ultimate tool to share the passion you felt in your heart.

Those round puppy eyes matched your sight again after so long, Jeremy's body slightly hunched over to be face to face with you. "What are you thinking about?” His minty breath fanned over your face, the vibrations of his words making you shake. It didn’t take long for his thumb to fall in between his lips, his teeth nervously chewing on the skin around the nail of the digit as it always did. “Hmm?"

There is something so special about the relationships we have once had but lost, that when reconnected—it feels as though no time has passed since parting.

"Huh?"

Your mind had raced off, staring at his hands like they were still yours to take a hold any time you pleased. The love you had, all of the emotions you had gone through—you felt like you had been blasted into the past for just a moment. Like you had made it to this competition, this part of life, together.

"Always somewhere else." Jeremy's head shook, a sly smile on his face making your heart leap.

So easily, the cocky man named Jeremy still had the power of attraction over you. All it would take was a lift of his eyebrow, the one he always cut a slit into to accessorize his facial features and stand out. Such a simple motion would be enough to tell you he knows you were thinking of him, the following laugh breaking you into your own smiling fit.

You watched his full grown brow lift, the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, could make out the soft chuckle leaving his bubbling chest—and for a second in time you were convinced he still loved you.

"I'm right here, Jeremy."

His name rolling off your tongue so easily took his band by surprise, their shared glances making you back deeper into the hall and away from the open space where they gathered under the stairs.

Just as expected—he hadn't mentioned you to them. From the start of the competition until now, they had merely been convinced Jeremy was only a fan of your band.

Their whispers, your name quietly mentioned, and Jeremy's smiling face right in your sight. "I-It was nice seeing you again."

"Don't think you can cut this off so quickly." His voice was a whisper in your ear, blue eyes flashing with the light of something new before he blinked softly. Three steps closer, his breath blowing across your skin, and as always—Jeremy had some unknown reason for making himself known to you that night. "I don't bite."

"Yes you do." Your eyes were swelling just as his nose scrunched, laughter loud from your enclosed distance.

"Not unless you ask, remember?" His plump lips were just a few centimeters from your ear, his tongue poking out between them to tap at your neck.

It was almost as if he forgot who left that night.

"Jeremy." Your voice was stern, his body backing up enough to see the entire frame of your face. "I think we need to talk."

That one word: talk. He hated that word. All Jeremy ever wanted was to speak his mind to you, day or night—and reciprocate the conversation. Not once did he ever enjoy the use of the statement. He believed saying that a talk was necessary took away the magic of just holding the conversation itself.

You could see his skin crawl. Watching as his brows knitted, his lips fell into a pout, and his eyes watered with worry—even he knew this had to happen at some point.

"We do." His voice had turned so soft, a weak tone in his two words that made a chill run up your spine. "I need to tell you what happened."

TWO.

The buzzing sign of the twenty-four-hour coffee shop welcomed you in with an additional chime of a bell over the door. Jeremy walked before you with nothing but his bass in its bag on his back, and your mind couldn't help but remember how often you had seen this image before things ended.

The first time you confessed to someone, it was Jeremy—standing out in the midst of the snow on the long walk home. Transportation had taken away the seclusion, going with friends to the corner store for some quick drinks and food would have lessened the privacy. And for once, you and Jeremy had full control on when you wanted to be alone together.

"Isn't there a saying—never date the lead singer of the band?" You remember his words so clearly, even the laugh that followed them. "I think I've broken a rule here."

"Is that a yes?" Your voice held cheer, cheeks changing temperature quickly from the freezing night air.

"There's no way I'm passing you up." His arm wrapped around you, pulling you in.

Cheek to cheek, not even a kiss placed on your face would have made your heart beat as hard and fast as it had. Witnessing him pull the thick and already warm leather jacket off his back and around yours made you swallow hard. Adjusting your coat, he placed his gloved hands against your cheeks to hold you in place just so he could look deeply into your eyes.

"Of course it's a yes."

"I never meant to leave you like that."

He sat across from you, steaming drink cupped between his hands to warm his cold fingertips. He looked all the same the more you stared, but the subtle changes from time having passed still stood out.

The natural dark blonde locks of his hair were longer, a few extra piercings along his ears, and his once sliced eyebrow now grown out with the mark of another piercing recently removed beginning to heal. His clothes seemed new, not thrifted as he used to wear. And even as he spoke, his voice seemed to have grown sadder from what you had last heard.

"There was just so much going on."

"Like what?"

You never considered what he could say that would fix what was broken. Words don't carry as much weight when spoken out of comfort compared to when spoken out of spite.

Thousands of times your mind raced with what could have been the real reason he left you that night without any words ever spoken aloud. Was he seeing someone else behind your back? Had he felt differently about the choices of the band? Was it you? Had you done something to cause him to leave? If his work caused so much sudden change to occur, why had that night specifically driven him to depart, claiming it was out of his care and the safety of your well-being?

What words could possibly cover that?

"I was promised a raise. A new job had become available as the CDC needed more examiners within the city, but the real cost of the job was needing to be fully quarantined." He began, words soft and slow like he regretted saying them now instead of then. "When I got there, they had me practically twiddling my thumbs while doctors with full degrees did the work for me."

"They treated you like the custodian even though they asked you to be there?"

Jeremy, as much as he appeared to be this head-strong bass player with nothing truly figured out—was actually a well-known genius in his department, working for health and services as a part-time examiner and occasional forensic executive. Every glistening piece of jewelry, his beautiful features and likable personality always put him in the spotlight of the stage, but so few people knew what he actually did for a living. All he wanted to do was make music and work off his school loans.

"Exactly." His hand flattened out with his palm up in your direction, a way of showing his appreciation for you following along with what he explained. "I was told, and I swear to this—"

Agony, pain, restless nights of not knowing why. All you wanted was him to come home to you, but all he was trying to do was what he believed was right for himself and you along the way.

"—that you and the band would be safe until we found the leading string of the disease. Something for the authorities to put on the death certificates of all the innocent lives lost to something we couldn’t entirely explain." You could hear him holding back a stutter when he spoke of you. "That this nightmare would come to and end, and I could come home.."

"Can't trust scientists." You had said it dozens of times as a joke.

"But after the first breakthrough, they needed more. As much as I was there to help, and as little as they gave me to do—they refused to let me leave. They made me sign an NDA and everything."

It was a mistake. He had gambled everything on his own thinking he could change the course of your careers all in one go. Fix all the damage his job and debt had done. But he had forgotten about the team effort you and your band had originally created in his solo act of braveness.

"I didn't know what to think." You almost cut him off, the words about to leave his mouth behind sucked back in by his deep inhale. "When you left me that night and I woke up to a note, I couldn't find any reason."

"I thought I would have things sorted and be back home to you in no time."

There was that word again. Home, you both still referred to each other as home.

"But when I came back from quarantine, I saw the billboards of the band's new release to be played live in concert." He breathed so unsteadily. "For some reason, I believed you had moved on without me."

"We did." The tears that had been held down all night slowly began to leave your eyes. You took notice in the whites of Jeremy’s eyes slowly turning red from irritation, finally allowing himself to cry, too. "Because we got the flyer about this competition from our manager. He said it was our chance to get signed, that all we needed was a bass player."

"Right—"

"And when we finally saw you again—" Tears dripped into your drink, long turned cold from the slow conversation pursuing between you and the man you still love like he never went away. "Your name was plastered with some other band. The one you're with now."

"When things started becoming clearer, we finally got a release date for my floor. After that, they pretty much put us out back on the street to return home. Some of us were gone so long, we didn’t have a home to return to. And when I came home, the locks were changed. I knew you had changed with it."

Jeremy, always concerned about others, never stopped fighting.

"I didn’t know any other sort of hobby than the band, so I had to turn to what I knew and find another one that needed me.” He laughed gently, peering down at his shaky hands. “None of us thought we’d even get anywhere until we found the flyer on some random diner's bulletin board. We barely even made it into the sign in list earlier." Jeremy's hand pressed into his face, wiping away the tears he could no longer hold back. "And when I saw the band’s name written on that list—"

Reality was so different, but the two of you still lived in a world where things were connected and flourishing.

"I knew fate was telling me to find you again. No matter the cost. I just—had to tell you what actually happened and let you decide for yourself."

"Decide what, Jeremy?"

"If you would even take me back."

THREE.

You could still feel those calloused fingers pulling at the strings of your heart. It wasn't just his soft eyes, the tears he wept beginning to dry into his skin, or his shaking hand reaching out for your own that made you realize everything was happening for a reason.

It was him, Jeremy sitting before you as himself—as new and old as he appeared, but still the same man you had fallen in love with.

What words could comfort you? None. There was nothing to be said between two broken-hearted people finding themselves in a familiar space all over again.

Tailored to a crowd or to a job’s space, working the energy of so many people time and time again—you and Jeremy had long surpassed basic criteria needed to read a room.

Your body lifted from your seat, hunching over the table and taking his chin between your thumb and index finger. You heard him gasp, felt the sudden breath being sucked into his body as your lips met—and most importantly, felt him fall into a deep kiss.

Although your mind had convinced you to fight it, to black out Jeremy and carry on—there was nothing like feeling his kiss. His plump lips moving along yours, the gentle smell of his sweated out shampoo filling your nostrils from such a close angle. And Jeremy, shaking as he fell back into his seat with a giddy smile on his face.

"So, is that a yes?" This time it was him asking the question that made your body rock back and forth in wonder and excitement.

A paid tab, his hand in yours, and his body guiding you out of the cafe out into the cool night air. Even the lights shined in a similar way, the moon overhead igniting more adrenaline to push through your veins.

And the shiver up your spine didn't go unnoticed—Jeremy's hand falling into a pocket of his leather jacket, the one item of clothing you never imagined you'd see again.

That jacket, made of soft string and thick fake leather—once black but now faded into a gray—the piece wrapped around your form like it had never left.

"I think we're getting a redo." Jeremy was witty towards the scenario, his own sense of deja vu overcoming him and causing him to speak. "Too bad we don't have our apartment to go back to."

You could see his face contort in confusion at the sound of the jingling keys, his eyes matching the loop around your fingers as you pulled the object from your bag. "Thought rent would be more than it was."

His smile, wide and cheeky watching the keys he had left behind—the second object he left in hopes for you to find—still in your safekeeping.

"Nice trick." You claimed, a laugh stifling your words. "Putting your key on my key ring before you left."

"Force of habit to leave hints, I guess."

With Jeremy moving into the room, the apartment's air seemed to revert back to how it smelled then. A scented candle lit somewhere, his natural scent moving throughout the space and claiming it all over again.

You had kept from moving anything. The furniture seemed dented into the flooring from where it sat for so long, even your matched collections of vinyls still stood in the same order on the bookshelf. The same plates and silverware, rugs only cleaned annually and placed back into their spots, blankets folded the same—the apartment still catered to a first time couple's comfort and solace.

"It's—" His laugh, that sweet sound you dreamed of hearing in this space again. "—the same. All of it."

His eyes were as wide as his grin, sight following every familiar feature to the home as he circled the studio apartment.

His calloused hands feeling at the blanket he always covered you and himself with when you would begin to doze off on the couch. His eyes wandered the framed pictures and drawings along the walls, laughing at the randomly placed polaroids scattered across the apartment. It was all joy, the remaining piece of his hold on his emotions finally giving way when he found sight of the bed.

His side was completely made, stiff and the same as he had left it. It was almost as if he could still see the note on his pillow, remembering his own handwriting on the little piece of paper that broke his heart to write. Your side of the bed was entirely messy unlike his made-up side, an obvious sign that you still wished him to be there during the night.

You could see his Adam's apple bob, hear the sounds of a choked up man begin to crack. The tears that fell down his soft cheeks—they were held in for years when they were meant to be released that night, same as everything else.

"I really—" He sniffled between words, your sudden appearance before him pulling him into a hug only making him cry harder. "—left all of this behind for some stupid job that I thought would make things easier in the future?"

"You were thinking of everything at once, Jeremy." On the off-style occasion that words do comfort, now was the proper example. "Thinking is how I became the one you loved. How I got on that stage every night with you. And how I continued to get up there even when you weren't by my side."

"H-How? How did you have the strength to do all of that after what happened?" He cried.

"Do you remember the first thing you said to me that night after we made love for the first time?" Your words were fast, like you yourself wanted them out and into his ears to catch him up to pace—to make him feel what you felt then and now. "It's the same thing you wrote on that note that night, Jeremy."

"I love you."

"You put your forehead against mine so all I could see was your eyes. All I could do was hear your voice as I came back into reality. And that was the first thing you said to bring me back. To make me understand—"

"You were the last person I ever imagined parting from. Ever." Jeremy rambled, his eyes clouded with his own tears as his head fell against your shoulder and grip tightened around you. "You were the first person I ever made love to. And the last."

"I never wanted anyone else more than I wanted you." Your words became softer, his brown but gold highlighted locks running between your fingers as you tugged at the strands to get his attention. Lifting his head and matching your sight, it was like lightning had struck your heart with true love. "And you gave me more."

"I-I love you. I still love you. No—I never stopped." His words ran together, body shaking in your hold with his eyes watching yours. "My back aches in every motel bed. My ears can't enjoy music when you're not the one singing along to my bass."

He appeared so weak, strengthened by your frame before him just as the last of the painful images of loneliness he suffered through faded away, his lips matching yours. Your mind, once racing with a million thoughts of what was or what could be, finally shut up at the sake of having Jeremy back in your hold and his kiss surpassing every other meaningful occurrence in that moment.

When you finally backed away, his head pressing into your neck to place soft kisses while he caught his breath—things had fallen into place. His bag on the sofa, scent filling the space more each second he stood within its walls, and you—falling deep into the sensual spell of your ex boyfriend's lust once more.

"I need you."

FOUR.

His mouth attached to your neck, bringing a low moan from between your lips. His soft hair chilling against your skin from the fibers still holding the temperature of the night air from minutes before.

Scent thick in your nostrils, the same cologne he always wore to a large show—it seemed to drown out all your senses at once and allow him to be the only thing on your mind.

Jeremy always had a way of pulling you from reality, placing you in a dream-like state for hours at a time. His voice calling into your ear with light sounds of pleasure, your name the loudest of them all. His skin heating up quickly against your own, the discarded clothing now laying over the same objects he couldn't take his eyes off before.

And for a split second—a dash of your eyes around the room witnessed everything you had missed. Finding his shirt tossed on the bookshelf where the vinyls were stacked. His pants slowly falling off the arm of the sofa. Jermy on top of you, the weight of both your bodies falling into the same dip in the cushions as you always did. It was heaven.

"Fuck—" The word was subtle from his mouth, his tongue’s main focus on kitten licking the soft spot on your neck. "I missed this."

"Me too." You whined, combing your fingers through his hair.

His shirtless form, abs tightening and expanding with each breath that overtook both his chest and stomach from how hard he panted. You could hear his hisses, each bump of your thigh against his length making it harder for him to not lose himself right then and there.

"Still a tease." He nearly growled.

Your neck began to bore him as his mouth moved lower. Across your chest, a lap at your hardening nipples, and finding himself sucking at the skin of your lower abdomen right above your underwear.

It was by accident, the loud gasp you released at the feeling of his lips finding you through the thin fabric of your underwear. His tongue poking between his lips to taste you, arousal overtaking your own body in the same way it was his.

Your mind felt fuzzy at the feeling of him lapping at you through the fabric. Legs shaking, kicking at his own bent knees pressing into the sofa. His arms at either side of your head, the strong scent of his deodorant once clouding the scent of your lightly-sweated bodies beginning to fill the room. And you felt like you were on cloud nine.

The mess he had created from his own saliva soaking against your underwear mixed with your own responsive juices made a wet sound as he pulled at them. Peeling them from you, separating your legs to place himself comfortably between them, and the man seemed to lose himself over you.

His tongue was like hot water overlapping every sensitive spot, his fingers coating where his mouth couldn't. You could hardly make a sound from the amount of pleasure filling you all at once, Jeremy's name the only syllables you could mutter.

"What do you want?" That eyebrow lift, his smirk covered in a glistening, light coat of arousal and saliva, and his arms pressing beneath you.

Without missing a beat, it only took two steps and Jeremy's strong arms to lift and toss you onto the bed. Shaking from the cool air against your hot skin, he could only laugh at the way your hand reached out for him.

"Want me?" He begged the question, but you were the only one truly begging. To feel him again—he knew you needed him badly. "Am I what you want?"

"J-Jeremy—I, please."

"Please! Please!" His tone was mocking but soft—dark, his eyes darker, and his body leaning over you like he was the only one you'd ever want to see again. And he was right. He spoke just above a whisper, calmly although it seemed as if his head was buzzing with excitement. "Can't believe I left you all alone."

This time the statement wasn't out of sadness, not a drip of worry on his tongue. He knew you'd touch yourself to him, whine his name that only you could hear, and find yourself wishing your hands were his. The man had you wrapped around his finger, your heart beating rhythmically as he finally sunk into your walls.

Maybe it was the amount of saliva he poured onto you through his tongue, allowing himself to match the natural wetness your body was already creating. But the squelch from his cock slipping into you, it was nothing like the cry that left your mouth.

His calloused hand found yours, stretching your fingers from the tight fist it clenched into from feeling full. The rough calluses, a huff from Jeremy to tell you he was already too close to hold on much longer, and the deepest thrust into you he could create.

Your hips matched his own, feeling him hitting so deep into you made your words even less coherent than they were to start. You could feel the sweat from his body dripping onto your own, feel the heat radiating off him.

With your body finally getting the fill it needed, wanted, dreamt of, and begged for—a white light quickly took over your sight, slowly turning into darkness and stars.

You could hardly make him out, Jeremy's cock burying itself inside of you until the flush heat you felt coming from his body suddenly filled your insides.

"Fuck—my, ahh. I'm—" Jeremy was just at a loss for words as you, his hand holding yours tightly and forehead pressing into yours the only sign for you to come back into reality.

Sweat from both your bodies mixed together, his body keeping upright above yours with only his head leaning against you and cock slowly pulling out.

"Jere-my—" You stuttered, his eyes quickly looking into your own as he tried to catch his breath.

"What is it, baby?"

"Please don't leave me this time."

His pearled smile was bright in your eyesight, closing to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat slowing down to a normal rate, and hear his breath regain a steady pace. "I'm not going anywhere."

Falling to his side of the bed, the space cold enough to make him shiver—you finally realized how full circle things had come. The lonesome nights had ended, any tears falling from now on were only out of happiness—and Jeremy was right by your side.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, pulling you into his side and watching you rest your head on his chest.

"I was just thinking—" Your words were finally full of energy and not breathless. "—where to go from here."

"With the competition?"

Your head nodded, eyes catching another smirk growing across his lips.

"I've been thinking about that, myself." He grinned. "And you know what I figured out?"

"What's that, Jeremy?"

"Nowhere in the rules does it state that two bands can't form one band together in order to win."

Clever as they come, a man with the lights shining on him before he even understood his talent or power of enthrallment, and especially where his head and heart lay in the world. Jeremy had been put right where he belongs in life, and as your partner—and was quickly learning that there was more in store for the both of you, together.

"So, what do you say? Want that do-over?"

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#this is my first fic posted here lol please go easy on me #norman reedus smut #norman reedus imagines #norman reedus scenarios #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus fanfiction

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