°˖➴ Masterlist + Buy Me A Coffee
Pairing ➤ Curly x Reader x Yan! Jimmy
Scenario ➤ Jimmy has an infatuation crush! On you. He's felt the string of fate connecting you two since the first time you stuttered a sentence his way. He thought for sure that he'd sweep you off your feet...
And then Curly got in the way.
Warnings ➤ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! Yandere Jimmy! Possessive behaviour, obsession, stalking, violent fantasies, sexualisation of Reader, delusional Jimmy, Jimmy's a bit of an incel, sexual fantasies, non-con fantasies, non-con touching, dub-con, drugging, unspecified age gap, masturbation, inexperienced reader, slight bimbofication (on reader through Jimmy), torture, tit-slapping, slapping, hair-pulling, dacryphilia, choking, cunnilingus, dirty talk, degradation, praise, character death (not reader). Pathetic Jimmy, then Psycho Jimmy. I'm ngl this is for freaky bitches bro.
AU where the Tulpar crashes, but you're not doomed! And Anya is safe!
He was meant to be yours.
Everyone knew it. Even you knew it! God, what did a fucking pussy like Curly even have that Jimmy didn't? You probably didn't even like Curly; you were just playing hard to get, waiting for Jimmy to prove himself to you. Like he needed to prove himself, look at him! He was the co-pilot for the Tulpar; the money he reeled in weekly would be enough to earn those bra straps of yours falling off your shoulders. No, maybe you were scared. Yes, that was it. You must've been scared of it:
The pull. The string on your pinky fingers, the stars perfectly aligned, the very chemistry that charged the air the first day he met you. He had been doing his usual routine: scaring the newbies. Daisuke was too full of sugar and sunshine to be intimidated, though Anya was significantly easier to cast a shadow over. He figured you'd be the same - most women were - but the second he stepped in front of you with that mean scowl twisted on his dark, stony face permanently weathered to the storm of his emotions, he froze. All it took was the tremble of your bottom lip and the very brief connection of your eyes to send his jagged walls crumbling down. He felt like a deer in the headlights, heart sharp like Cupid had just struck him with a heart attack instead of an arrow. You bowed your head to Jimmy, eyes disappearing from his gaze as you stuttered out your name with a quick breath. He stood there a few moments longer after you spoke, Jimmy's mind processing the sensation that built a foundation in his chest, one foreign and yet the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt in the entire world. Daisuke noticed, made an all-too-obvious double take at the sight of the older co-pilot seemingly fixated on his younger crewmate, and had Daisuke not been as subtle as a brick, Jimmy probably would've stood there forever.
Jimmy was at a loss. This was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Like flowers had bloomed in his heart vessels, or fireworks ignited in his intestines. Hell, he'd even entertain the idea of butterflies in his belly, even if he did think the metaphor was a bit childish. How could a woman do all these things with just a simple flicker of her eyes? He'd never once cared for others, not his shitty parents, nor his colleagues. Hell, he didn't even care about his childhood friend, Curly, even if the dumb blonde thought otherwise. Jimmy was a selfish, narcissistic bastard, and he'd be the first one to admit it (well, he wouldn't, because James Zare doesn't have flaws). So why was it that he was weak to that little lip tremble? Why did he yearn for you to just look up once more, batting your thick eyelashes at him? Why did his shoulders ease at the simple mention of your name, even if he was irked by it coming from another's tongue?
From day one, he was following you around the ship. His sharp glare kept anyone from questioning why he wandered so much, but that didn't stop them from noticing patterns. Patterns that were completely foreign to Jimmy's regular nature. Suddenly, he wasn't slacking off in his co-pilot's seat anymore; he was working - actually working. He offered to lift crates, requested assistance at the controls, and even made breakfast one morning. It's as if one day Jimmy fell asleep, and someone else woke up. Curly was beaming, convinced his brother had finally started warming up to his job. That's all Curly ever wanted, really, for Jimmy to have a good, easy life. Swansea was a bit more sceptical, and he was the first to notice the real reason:
You really thought Jimmy was helping? Please, he hated every minute of it. The storage room smelled like dust and decay, and he grit his teeth every time he neared it. He hadn't even intended to help; he was very happy just stalking around the metal tin without a word, displaying his power to everyone who dared step near him. Until the storage door hissed open, and his heart sank. You were there, shoulder to shoulder, with Daisuke. And you were smiling. Jimmy had thought for just a moment that maybe you were smiling at him, maybe his presence had sent that angelic curve to your lips, but he knew it wasn't true. You were looking up at Daisuke, laughing at a stupid joke the idiot had said. This wasn't right, this wasn't fate. This was a test - a challenge. One he'd taken up swiftly. Jimmy whistled sharply, your necks snapping in his direction as he stepped into the room, fists clenched by his sides as he glared straight at Daisuke. The boy stiffened - good.
"Daisuke, you've been working for a while. Why don't you go have your break?" Jimmy suggested, clenching his knuckles so tightly they numbed. Daisuke hesitated for a split second, the useless slack of his jaw threatening to grant him a moment to speak - to reject Jimmy's offer, but the heavy weight of Jimmy's gaze silenced that threat and Daisuke set the crate down. Once the boy disappeared down the hall, Jimmy eased. Just you two now, together. Alone. You shut your mouth promptly when his eyes trailed you, turning your back to him as you continued to work in silence. You expected to hear the distance of his footsteps, but they opposingly closed until he was right beside you, shoulder to shoulder, staring down at you. His breath was hot, puffs hitting your hair and sending a shiver up your spine. You were a timid thing, so easily scared of Jimmy since the first day you locked eyes with him. But Jimmy wouldn't have that. You stacked one of the boxes atop another when you heard the unmistakable sound of Jimmy clearing his throat.
"...so, er...what d'ya think of the job?" He sounded...awkward. Off-balance, like a schoolboy talking to his crush. Your eyes widened fleetingly, and you craned your neck to him as you massaged your overworked hands. "Oh - um...the crew's very nice. And the work is good." It was a simple, non-offensive answer, the best one you could muster beside the bulking figure shadowing you. Jimmy nodded, smart enough to know it was a bullshit answer, yet giddy enough to convince himself that by the crew, you meant him. You wiped the sweat off your brow as you finished loading the crates, Jimmy placing the final one at the tippy-top just out of your reach. He sighed, brain fogged by Daisuke's closeness to you. The boy was practically drooling; who knows what could've happened if Jimmy had been even just a few minutes late. You were so lucky you had him here, with you, for you. You grabbed your water bottle near the doorway, checking over your to-do list to see what it was exactly you had been rostered to. However, before you left, you paused, clenching the notes in your shaky hand as you gathered the courage to turn back to Jimmy, finally looking him in the eyes and flashing that sugary smile of yours.
"Thank you for helping me, Jimmy." You voiced and then spun on your heels, leaving Jimmy alone in the room. He froze, his heart loose and ricocheting around his chest. You...thanked him? He felt light-headed; the sight of your gorgeous eyes burned into his brain like it was a glimpse into eternal paradise. He froze mid-step in the room, half-hunched and identical to a cat caught in curiosity as he stared at where you once stood. That's all it took? Seriously? All it took for you to lift that pretty face of yours up and flash that saccharine smile at him was for him to lift some fucking boxes? A shaky exhale rolled from his throat, choked with a laugh that mimicked a madman, one you'd find chained and bound in white. You thanked him. You wanted him. Wanted him there with you, wanted the help only he could provide. Wanted a strong, powerful man - which he was! - by your side. Not that scrawny excuse of a boy. Him.
It was the first time you'd willingly granted him your attention, not from obligation due to his position, nor intimidation from the stories you heard in the halls, ones from Anya and Daisuke who revealed just how unfavourable Jimmy could be. You wondered when you'd be next, after all, he was around you so often, maybe he was waiting for a screw-up just to unleash his wrath on you. Jimmy, meanwhile, had found the cheat code to your attention - no, not just your attention - your approval. Working. Fucking, working.
Jimmy waited in the control room, leg bouncing with anticipation as he flicked through the cameras, waiting to see you. He'd disconnected one of the controls, leaving the Tulpar without air-conditioning. Jimmy already knew how to fix it; he'd done it before when he was trying to fall asleep in the cockpit, and Swansea had touched something he shouldn't have. He wasn't even intending to touch the damn thing until the older, corpulent man made a sly comment about Curly being the most capable on the ship, sending the brunette into a fit of stubborn determination. And as irritating as the memory could be, at least it led to something good. The second Jimmy's eyes landed on your figure heading down the hall closest to him, he called out.
"Hey, I need a hand here!" He grinned ear to ear when he heard your footsteps, struggling to not seemingly predict that you'd be the one entering the room. You glanced around, face flushed from the heat trapped in the stale room, and when Jimmy caught sight of you, he bit his tongue nearly in half. Sweat rolled down your temple, your lips parted as you sucked in the air thick with sticky humidity. Your uniform was unzipped only a few centimetres, but Jimmy didn't need to see past the dip of your collarbone to know how hot you must've been, literally and figuratively. His lower half pooled with a different heat that stirred something angry in his pants, leaving the two of you slightly breathless for significantly different reasons. God, he wanted to lick the sweat off your skin.
He nodded to the controls, slowing his pulse with a cool, controlled breath. "The cords got pulled, 'course, it's gotta Swansea again." He glanced at you, hoping to see you agree with his comment on the older man, but when he saw your brows furrow at the unnecessary jab, he stammered. "I, er, I need you to reach behind there and connect the cords back to the outlet. Thought I could do it, but, heh, guess I got more muscle than I realised." He bit his lip, a self-satisfied grin on his face from what he thought was a humorous line sure to pique your interest in him. He watched you bend down, reaching behind the control station and stretching your arm as far as it could go.
For a split second, Jimmy considered slamming the station against the wall, pinning you in place, imagining the way your small voice would yelp. He trailed his eyes down your body, from the curve of your breasts to your perfectly accentuated ass. This uniform could make a model look raggedy, and yet it seemed the fabric bent to your will. Jimmy's heart raced, imagining how you'd react if he came behind you, his rough hands on the globes of your ass, how you'd whine as he cupped your cunt through your pants. Fuck, he could feel himself hardening at the thought. You'd be trapped there, at his mercy and will. He swallowed as he imagined how you'd moan with each harsh love bite he left on your neck, how the scent of your fear would roll off you in waves that would crash against him until his groin ached. But then he remembered how sweetly you smiled at him in the storage room, and he shook his head, turning his face back to the station. He couldn't do that, not to you. You'd be terrified! You'd probably never look at him again. You'd be hurt, no, not just hurt, you'd hate him. Jimmy couldn't risk that; he couldn't risk you hating him. Hell, if you hated him, he'd fall apart.
A small 'woop' snagged his eyes back to you as you stood back up with a proud smirk, glad you'd finally connected to that stupid outlet. You were so blissfully unaware, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes that still hesitated under his gaze. He returned that grin, leaning against the button panels while the vents rumbled back to life, buzzing softly in the stale room as cold air wafted through. You waited for any further directions, shifting your foot to the door until words fell from his mouth. "Guess you've got the brain and the beauty." He flashed his teeth in an uneven curl, trying to play off just how sleazy the comment truly was. Your cheeks reddened, flustered by the compliment the older man gave you before bowing your head in a simple, polite nod. "Heh, thank you." You were grinning ear to ear, just like he'd hoped. Man, this was easier than he thought. If you were that easy to sway, then, by all means, he already had you.
As you turned on your heel to leave, Jimmy's eyes fell from your face to your chest, hidden beneath the thick fabric of the uniform. His imagination was running wild, gritting his teeth to distract from the throb in his boxers. He should've left the AC off for just a bit longer, just to see if you'd sweat enough to soak your shirt. Maybe even give him a peek at those perky nipples through your bra. He'd bet his life you were a virgin: perfect. Perfectly made just for him. He'd earned you, after all, through his years of suffering. It only made sense God would send him His best broad. No marble carvings of Goddesses and idols could equal just how ethereal you'd look when you were bare beneath him. You'd make the most perfect sounds and squeaks. Hell, those pretty lashes of yours, wet with tears of pleasure, would be enough to make him bust right there and then. You slipped out the door, smiling to yourself as Jimmy watched with his brooding eyes, a thousand thoughts planning out everything he'd do to you if he just got you alone for just a minute.
Jimmy hated mornings; he'd usually sleep in until everyone else had gotten to work. The five hours of sleep a night was inhumane in his opinion, and he refused to be constricted to those little nights' rest. After all, the stress he had as a co-captain was enough to halve his lifespan; he didn't need a sleep debt on top of that. He'd rather deal with a cheery suggestion from Curly to be an early bird (no doubt caused by various crewmate complaints) than actually put the effort in to be punctual.
Well, that was how he used to be. No, now he had a reason to wake up on time - not even on time, early. He loved sitting there, on that old, dusty couch, staring at the televised sunrise. Not because of the peace, or because it was fun, God knows that couch had been there since the Tulpar was first built. No, it was because you'd be there. He'd sip his coffee, pretending like the brew didn't taste like shit, reading whatever newspaper he found lying around. A faux of who he was, but was it really a faux if he was willing to bend to your ideals? You probably wanted a guy like that anyway, a peaceful man. It took every muscle in his body not to toss the drink and paper aside when he heard your footsteps, forcing himself into some feigned interest in sports or whatever shit his eyes first landed on until he saw you step into the living space. You were always quick to greet him, and even on the days when you were slow to; on the days when he'd internally panic and slip out a desperate 'good morning!' you would reciprocate his words with equal delight.
It was on one of those mornings that Jimmy stood up from his placement on the couch under the guise of getting more coffee (He dreaded how it would taste on his tongue, but anything to keep himself near you). He watched you closely as you ate a protein bar, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. What he'd do for it to be his cock in your mouth instead. You'd be a good sucker. Even if you were shit, you were perfect. He hitched his breath eagerly at how you'd choke around him. You'd probably look up at him with those big, teary eyes, too, maybe even gag on his cum and hit his thigh desperately for air. Fuck, Jimmy had already handled his morning wood, but just the thought of you had him ready to go again and again.
"Not much of an appetite?" Jimmy queried, taking a sip of the burnt, black tar in his mug. You tensed when he spoke, taken off guard by his sudden inquiry before shrugging your shoulders. You'd warmed up so much since your first day. You still stuttered occasionally, and there were days when you couldn't meet his eyes, but you weren't as skittish or ready to flee. You were learning. Learning your place beside him. That was fine; he could be patient. You were making...progress. Even if it was slow. Even if he did get so frustrated that he gripped the kitchen bench to keep himself from just grabbing and forcing you flat against the top.
You chewed your mouthful of food, covering your lips with your smaller hand in a polite act. How innocent. You were such a dainty little thing. "Honestly, I'd much rather pancakes or something..." You joked, tossing the wrapper in the bin. Jimmy perked up. Pancakes, huh? A sweet tooth for a sweetie like you. He took his eyes off you for only a second to check out the food storage. Some of the food was off-limits, only accessible through the captain. But Jimmy could get it. He'd get the sun for you if you asked him to. All he had to do was prod Curly a bit, and he'd get access just like that.
The next morning, he had just what he wanted. The pancake mix was torn open on the counter, half of the powder on the bench and the rest in the bowl. Jimmy was fuming. He just couldn't get it right. The mixture was clumpy, almost dough-like, despite being a 'just add water' package. He had hoped to surprise you, and yet when you walked out, he was still stirring the lump-filled mixture, brows furrowed, and his lips curled in a snarl. A thousand excuses already formed on his tongue, incoherent blurbs, but he could improvise a bullshit answer if given a second to think. Even if it was hard to think about anything other than you when you're here. You paused, eyes scanning the empty box, dirty bench and a red-handed Jimmy with a wide-eyed expression. You nodded your head once the image became clear of what exactly he was trying to do before you walked over, hands clasped behind your back. You lowered your head so as not to impose and parted those plump, bitten lips he stared at so often.
"Do you...need a hand?" You asked cautiously, afraid to offend him in case he'd actually had some elaborate plan for the mess on the counter. Jimmy swallowed the lump in his throat, doing his best to compose himself. It wasn't even a vulnerable moment, but it was the most vulnerable he'd ever been in front of anybody that wasn't Curly, and yet you looked past any possible embarrassment to simply help. What a sweet angel you were, like cotton candy and desire wrapped into a perfect young woman. His woman. You added more water to the mixture, cleaning the kitchen of Jimmy's mess as he stirred the mixture. It smoothed out, his lips parting as he realised just how easy it was to fix what he was convinced was a failure. No, it's because it was a failure. He had followed the instructions, and it turned out like shit. But you, you were just different. Better. Above any of the other people on this goddamn ship. You were just a fucking saint.
The pancakes sizzled in the pan, the aroma wafting throughout the living space. You were setting the table, humming a tune so soft that it sounded like flower petals flowing through the breeze. He liked this; this...domesticity. Him cooking in the kitchen, you setting the table, the silence of the morning: perfect. His mind drifted as he stared at you. He could imagine this life every day: a gold ring on your finger, a couple of ankle-biters running around, a big house, a white-picket fence. He cracked a smile - it was so close. That was a life he was so close to snatching. A life he'd earned. With you. He flipped the pancake, a smile falling as a pair of footsteps entered the space.
"Good mornin', Jimmy." A chipper voice called out to him.
Jimmy's lips twisted into a scowl, one he beat down so you wouldn't see it. Jimmy grunted, a wordless acknowledgement to his friend's presence, before lifting his tired eyes up to your face. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong. You were looking back, but not at him. At Curly.
Why the fuck were you staring at Curly?
Curly walked over to you, your eyes on him the entire time. This was a mistake; you never made eye contact with anyone. Because, if you did, it'd be with him first. You should be staring into his eyes, smiling up at him. The spatula fell slack in his grip. Curly greeted you, taking the utensils from your hands and helping you divide them evenly for everyone. You struck up a conversation with the blonde, Curly's eyes crinkling with every sentence slipped from your lips. The easy camaraderie between you two made Jimmy feel sick to his stomach. This was wrong, this wasn't real. Maybe you were just...trying to show off. Yeah, you were trying to show off just how friendly you were, how perfect you could be for Jimmy. But he knew that wasn't true, because your eyes were locked onto Curly like he was a fucking God. Like he was your God.
Jimmy sat at the table, fists clenching around the fork in his hand as he watched you two. Conversation buzzed at the table. Anya and Daisuke got lost in some chatter about a musician Jimmy could give two fucks about. Swansea was grumbling occasionally to the two young people, the playful laughter grating on his ears. Jimmy didn't care about them; he didn't care about anyone. He only cared about himself and you. And right now, you were staring at Curly.
Your plate was empty, and your cup was dry. You had no reason to be at that table, no reason to stay. Jimmy entertained the idea that maybe you had stayed for him, maybe you adored how his warmth soaked into your side. He never sat anywhere else aside from the head of the table, so you should've been honoured that he even considered moving just to be closer to you. But as he watched you, his eyes narrowed. You hadn't spared him a glance since sitting down, hadn't even flickered your eyes to him. No, you were devoted to Curly's eyes, those baby blues that followed every curve of your face. It was sickening just how close you two looked. Curly stuffed his mouth with the bland, flavourless food, lips tugged up in a smile as he listened to you yap attentively. Your voice was like honey, easy on the ears, and Jimmy swore a single minute of conversation with you could've left his heart intoxicated with yearning. But you were here with Curly instead.
As everyone parted, Jimmy stood in the hallway by the sleeping quarters, his eyes darting. He had meant to go to his room, to pace out his frustration - maybe punch a wall if it got too bad. But as he passed, his eyes landed on your room. He hadn't entered it yet, didn't have a reason to. Not until now. Not until after seeing how fucking intimate you and Curly were. He flickered his eyes to the dining area. Everyone had thanked him for breakfast, surprised by his sudden good attitude. He didn't spare them a glance, though; he just stared at you. Waiting. Waiting to hear that sweet praise grace your lips, to hear your delight in how considerate he was. Your face turned to his, your eyes met, and his heart clenched as he waited...
And then Curly got in the way. Opening his big, loud mouth, praising Jimmy with words that meant nothing to the brunette man. And Jimmy's throat bobbed as you looked away, attention re-directed to the captain. The captain who got everything. Even Jimmy's soulmate.
Jimmy twisted the metal knob, and the door to your room opened so silently that the air didn't disturb it. Chills rose up his spine, prickling his body hair. The room smelled like heaven. It smelled like you. The bed was made neatly, and your table, desk, and cupboard were all clean, without a single pencil or book out of place. He liked that, liked to know how disciplined you were. It meant you'd be more willing to listen to him, and easier to train. His hand grazed over your bed, the temptation to lie on your bed and soak in the warmth of where you once lay so profound that he had to pull himself away to avoid disturbing the unwrinkled sheets. Next, the cupboards. He opened them carelessly, mind locked onto one thing, the one thing he'd wanted to see for days now, the one thing his cock bounced at the thought of.
He clenched your panties in his fist, bringing the soft cotton to his nose. He inhaled deeply, frustrated that all he smelt was the floral scent of the laundry detergent and not your essence. He pocketed the underwear, digging through your lingerie drawer to pick and choose which ones he wanted to keep. He knew he couldn't take too many, knew you'd realise if half of your drawer went missing. That's why he only picked his favourites. The first white one he picked was cute and simplistic; the next was a cute white one with a pink bow at the front. He loved that pair; it reminded him just how innocent you were. But his favourite pair, the one that made his mouth drool, the one that made his cock throb with arousal, was a black thong. A translucent black g-string that looked like a slut's dream. He couldn't believe his eyes - his perfect angel was a secret succubus. A perfect blend of innocence and sin. He sniffed each pair, keeping the black one to his nose for a particularly long time. He could imagine you touching yourself in it, rubbing your clit through the fabric as you moaned out his name. Fuck, he bet you brought them knowing he'd be there - knowing your soulmate would be waiting here just for you.
An alarm blared through the ship. Something was wrong with the controls. He jumped to his feet, glancing around to ensure he hadn't left anything behind to suggest his presence before swiftly making an exit. By the time he got there, everyone had gathered, and Curly had fixed the issue with ease. Daisuke, the idiot, had touched something he wasn't supposed to, sending the system into panic mode. Christ, being stuck with these imbeciles for the next one hundred days would probably get him killed. Jimmy's focus landed on you, on the way you stuck to Curly's side, shoulders eased as you two laughed at the silliness of the panic. His brows furrowed, hair falling across his face as he watched. His face felt tight, his nose scrunched in disgust like a potent smell hit his nostrils. Curly didn't know the first fucking thing about you; he didn't care about you, not like Jimmy did. Curly didn't feel the pull. He didn't have a pinky finger strangled around an invisible hook of fate. He wasn't worthy of your attention. You were the one thing Curly couldn't have. The one thing Jimmy deserved to have. The only thing Jimmy needed.
From the first day you set foot on the Tulpar, you knew you were in for the experience of your life. You'd been training for this moment since you were a teenager. Space had dazzled you, and to be surfing through the night with the stars was a dream come true. The crew was lovely, too. Daisuke was a beam of sunshine, Anya was a close confidante, Swansea was a comedic grouch, and Curly was a heart-throb. You couldn't have asked for better company! You'd grown close with each member throughout the days, especially Curly. He was so sweet and considerate, the first to lend a hand when needed and the last to clock off. You'd kept your interest at bay, initially. He was the captain, after all. A significantly older captain, nonetheless. You were fresh out of university, and he was, well, he already had a few years of experience. But it was hard to hide the shy smiles and the way you'd pitch your voice ever so slightly whenever he was around.
Oh- right! There was Jimmy as well. Jimmy was...well...
Something about him spiked your nerves. You'd tried to warm up to him, had tried to create a friendly relationship, but he always seemed on edge. Like a rubber band about to snap. The first day you met him, he just stared down at you wordlessly. His shoulders were stiff, and his shadow seemed to absorb any nearby light into its void. You cursed yourself for the stutter on your tongue, and it seemed it had irked Jimmy, who stood over you, waiting, like a bomb on its last few ticks. If Daisuke hadn't made his confusion clear, then you were sure Jimmy would've slashed you with his tongue.
From then on, you kept your distance. You'd chat with Anya throughout the day, enjoy your breaks with Daisuke, occasionally banter with Swansea, and, although you knew it was wrong, you'd have a bit of a flirt with Curly. You kept it subtle: a simple compliment on his cologne, admiring his go-lucky attitude, batting your pretty eyelashes at him every time you looked up at the man. Then he started reciprocating it. He always flashed you a smile whenever you entered the room, but now they were softer. Sweeter. His eyes would linger on you for a few moments longer than necessary. He'd speak more when he knew you were listening. Sometimes his heart would pound so loudly when you stepped closer that he feared you'd hear it.
Curly was the first to approach you one afternoon as you sat on the red couch, knee tucked to your chest as you stared at the fake sky on the screen. You were distracted, lips pressed into a thin line, and eyes droopy. Concern glazed his eyes as he sat down, offering a kind simper. "Hey, Y/N. Are you alright?" He kept his tone light, wanting to ease whatever burdened you. Your cheeks grew hot as Curly neared your body, blinking up at him as your word-retrieval failed. Then, you stuttered. "U-um, yeah, sorry. I'm a little...out of it." You tried to remain level-headed despite how your heart raced, and you yearned to inch closer to him. Curly tilted his head, his soft blonde locks bouncing. He didn't buy it, and you knew he didn't. You sighed, eyes falling to the dirty ground as you struggled to figure out just how to express your concerns to him. After all, how do you tell someone that their best friend - their brother - creeps you out?
"...Um, Jimmy, he's..." You paused, waiting to see his reaction. His brows had furrowed slightly, but not in anger, in concern. Worry. You considered the words on your tongue carefully, softening them to ensure they avoided any possible offence. "...have I...irritated him? He seems to follow me around a lot. I mean, I know he's the co-captain, but..." You trailed off, stomach flipping anxiously. Curly waited a moment, digesting your words. He knew Jimmy was somewhat of an acquired taste, more of a confrontational hardhead than the gentle giant Curly was. But Jimmy had it tough! His parents didn't understand him, school was difficult - (sure, Jimmy never studied or put in any effort, but he was a good man! If you squinted hard enough). If Curly hadn't gotten Jimmy the job here, he'd probably be in jail. Curly's calloused hand hovered just above the small of your back, hesitating for just a moment before he tenderly pressed his hand down. He glanced at your face, testing the waters to see if his touch was welcome or not, and when you curved your back to lean into his touch, his heart skipped a beat. You looked up at him, eyes snagged on his lips before falling into his ocean blue eyes. His lips curled, flashing his pearly whites and inching closer.
"Jimmy's...tough. But he's a good guy." Curly grumbled, voice toasty like a campfire crackling in winter. You nodded, focusing more on the proximity than the justification of Jimmy's actions. "He's a bit of a mystery sometimes, but he just wants what's best. Don't worry about him." Curly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared down into your pupils, his mouth dry with nerves. Was he making you uncomfortable? Was he overstepping? You shifted in your seat, lowering your leg and turning your body to face Curly. He could feel his face burn as his smile grew, his palms sweating as he tried to not look like a fool in front of you. And, little did he know, but that's exactly how you felt also. You felt short of breath, almost alien, as you kept your position. Did he think you were weird for breathing too long? Did he think you looked weird as you adjusted yourself? God, did Curly think you were weird? It was such a childish concern, and yet you felt like you were standing on the edge of the waterfall, risking a slip at any misstep. You broke eye contact, a bashful smile on your lips, biting the plump skin as you chuckled on a breath.
"Thanks, Curly." You murmured, relaxing your muscles. Curly watched you for a second longer before slipping his hand from your back to your hand, which fit so perfectly in his own. "No problem. And, you can call me Grant." He waited, hoping he'd made the right call, that he hadn't been too intimate or assertive. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, especially considering his position as captain. But when you intertwined your fingers in his, batting your eyelashes up to his soft gaze, he knew he'd made the right call.
Curly was a sweetheart. Your relationship had been blossoming throughout the weeks with inside jokes, teasing banter and whispered flirtations. On the surface, you seemed like nothing more than a pair of good friends, but beneath it all was a confession not yet surfaced. You two hadn't uttered a word of love to one another, not even an admission of liking each other, despite how clear it was (to Swansea, at least) that you two were far closer than the others. You'd told Anya about your silly crush, and she'd been your biggest supporter, winking at you every time Curly entered the room or quietly clapping every time she passed you two working on a task together. Even hugging you when you told her quietly one night that you feared Curly would forget you at the end of the cargo run, reassuring you that Curly wasn't like that. He'd never ghost a girl; hell, he'd need to be dead before he broke your heart.
The days were growing blurred, and the work was significantly more overwhelming the longer you were there. Maybe you were just sleep-deprived, maybe you were imagining it, but it really felt like things in your bedroom were going missing. The first thing you noticed was your underwear. It was such a strange thing to realise because who in their right mind would even go into your room, let alone steal your underwear of all things? Some of your deodorants had been opened, too. New ones. Ones you'd been saving for the return trip. It wasn't so much of a big deal, but you knew you hadn't opened them. Well, maybe. Maybe you'd opened them in a morning rush? Was it possible? Yes. But was that something you'd done before? No. It was just such a strange thing to experience, like a ghost had been summoned to move little things - things so subtle that it drove you crazy. Some of your pens were missing, also. Not important ones, just regular black and blue pens you used when you wrote in your diary. Which, speaking of, where the hell was your diary? You swore you had left it on your desk after going to sleep, not its usual spot, but you had been so tired that you didn't think it was a big deal, and, again, who would notice? Then, the next morning, it's like it evaporated into thin air. You checked under the desk, under your bed, your drawers, everything, and yet it seemed to have simply vanished.
Jimmy couldn't believe his luck.
He'd been growing bolder since the first day he entered your room. He'd peek in during the busy breakfast period, disappearing before the sight of you and Curly could boil his blood. At first, it was just the panties. He already had three pairs, he didn't need more...but then he found the dirty hamper in the laundry room and, well...how could he resist? He was perfectly content with sniffing the clean ones in your room, though. He had been contemplating taking a bra, too, but you only had a few pairs, and it'd be really obvious if one of those disappeared. Instead, he liked to grope them, imagining it was your breasts cupped in his palms and not the fabric that held them. Besides, you'd need all the bras you could find on the Tulpar once he had you, because he'd be ripping them off every night. He liked to sniff your deodorants when he could, too, groaning softly as he rubbed his manhood through his pants. Fuck, it smelled good, and he imagined how it'd smell mixed with your sweat, melted into your body oils.
He liked to lick your pens, too, convincing himself that in some sick way, he was technically licking you. Had you touched yourself with them? Had you held these pens while shakily writing about how hot he was? It's not like Pony Express would allow any self-pleasuring toys on board, so you'd have to use whatever you had on hand. And why not the very pens in your hand, the very pens now wet with his saliva. He'd dry them off, of course. With your panties.
Nighttime was his favourite time to visit you, though. At first, he could barely twist your doorknob, breathing shakily at just the thought of entering your room while you were still in there. He had his excuses lined up already: wrong room, thought he heard something, escape before you could see his face. But he already knew you wouldn't do that to him. No, if you saw him in your room, you'd be ecstatic. Probably invite him into your bed, confessing your love a thousand times over. And apologise for letting Curly get so fucking close.
His breath was manic, soft growls no louder than the buzz of the aircon straining from his narrow throat. He was really doing this. He was really going to violate your privacy in the dead of night. The door slid open, not a single disturbance in the air.
And there you were: unconscious and tangled in your sheets, no less than a couple of metres in front of him. He could've died right there with how fast his heart bashed against his ribcage, bludgeoning itself into a puddle of mashed blood and gunk. Hell, his mind was going through so many motions he might've just had a brain hemorrhage from the intensity of each introspection justified through narcissism.
Each step was slow and calculated, like a fly dancing around a web, testing the boundaries between fate and unthinkable consequences. He stood in front of you, eyes trembling with each second of adrenaline bursting through his blood. You were fast asleep, taking in slow, deep breaths. Your face was at the perfect level for his cock. Hell, if he just angled himself right, he could probably whip his cock out and slide it into your mouth. You would choke so soundly, maybe even flash those pleading eyes until he filled your mouth to the brim. He lowered himself slowly until he was crouched face-to-face with you. He grinned as he watched you intently, fixated on you. You looked angelic, emanating a glow identical to a princess pulled out of a fantasy novel. You were so oblivious, so unaware. You wouldn't even realise he was there unless he was right between your legs, and you'd be a good girl and spread them for him.
Jimmy raised his right hand slowly, so slow that one might mistake him for a statue. Then, he touched your cheek. It was a ginger touch, like some stray strands of hair had tickled your skin, and you reacted appropriately. You stirred in your sleep as a soft groan rumbled in your chest. You scrunched your nose, readjusting to squash your face into the pillow to keep your irritations at bay. Your hair splayed on the pillows, and Jimmy's eyes pierced through the dark, straight at your soft locks. Could he? He glanced around the room, seemingly waiting for a sound to suggest he leave, but there was none. His eyes shot back to you. Should he? Jimmy dipped his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a shiny pair of scissors.
They were a last-minute resort. A solution, had he found Curly in your bed with you. He ran his fingers through your hair: soft, like a bird's feathers. He pinched a small clutch of strands between his pointer and thumb, the hair located right in the centre of your scalp. You wouldn't notice it was missing, nor would anyone else looking your way (only he should be the one looking at you, anyway. Shit, he should stab out the eyes of anyone else who dared to try take that away from him).
He kept his fingers tight around the thin lines of hair, breathing heavily as the excitement pumped through him. Fuck, that was exhilarating. He stood back up, a satisfied smirk on his chapped lips as he sauntered to the door, looking over his shoulder at you when he noticed something peculiar. A small, black book on your desk, flipped open to a random page. He knew he should leave in case you woke up, but the curiosity was worth the risk. He pinched the book silently before disappearing into the night, leaving you completely unaware of what had just happened.
Jimmy, though, was anything other than silent in his room. He couldn't believe he'd lucked out on snatching your diary. His eyes skimmed through the words, blocking out all the irrelevant information. All that mattered was you and him; anything other than your personal thoughts or his deserved name on the page meant nothing to him. He sat on his simple, sturdy chair, fly unzipped and cock bobbing in the air. He'd been fapping for hours now, unable to tear his eyes from your diary. Jimmy had found the most wonderful thing in your thoughts, something that had sent the blood rushing to his groin. A crush. You admitted you had a crush. You didn't name who, but he didn't need a name - he knew the name. Jimmy fucking Zare. He slid his hand up to the tip of his cock, the head flushed red and swollen. Pre-cum sputtered from his hole, jagged breaths straining from his lungs and choking on his bobbing throat. He narrowed his eyes down at the paper.
"He's a wonderful guy. He's so tall, and his hair is so well-kept."
Jimmy grinned, squeezing his cock as he rubbed himself down to the base, his balls tight with anticipation.
"Every time he smiles at me, I feel so shy. I wonder if he thinks I'm pretty."
Jimmy's eyes rolled back as he increased his speed, legs stiff as his muscles clenched. Shit, yeah, that's what he wanted to hear. He jerked forward, the pleasure in his pit building.
"I think he likes me, too. Well, Anya thinks so. I don't know, though. I think I'm reading into things. I just want to confess to him and see if he loves me, too."
Jimmy groaned as his cock trembled in his grip, thick ropes of cum shooting onto the bedroom floor, pebbles of fluid trickling down the base of his shift and onto his thick fingers. He choked out a guttural moan, head thrown back as he sucked in as much air as he could into his lungs, which strained with rapid growth. His cock softened, but one glance at that diary and he was stiffening once again. His cum-covered hand slammed onto his bed, snatching a pair of your dirty underpants and scrunching them to his nose, breathing deeply. Smelled like heaven. Smelled like you. His member twitched as he thought about how you had worn this, had this piece of fabric rubbing against that perfect, little pussy he so desperately wanted to fuck. He was so horny right now, he might just go check up on you tonight after all. He wrapped your panties around his cock, pumping himself once more as he continued to read.
"I really like his stubble. He told me he wanted to shave it, and I nearly cried."
Jimmy breathed a chuckle, your playful sentence sending serotonin throughout his system. You cared about him so much that you were willing to shed tears over a little stubble? Good. Jimmy jerked himself faster, chasing another high.
Wait...when had he mentioned his stubble to you?
"I know he's a bit older, but he's never once made me feel stupid. He even offered to teach me more about the Tulpar after we landed."
His movements slowed, still trapped in his pleasure but now much less oblivious to your words.
"I think I'm in love. With the captain, nonetheless."
Jimmy froze, hands stilling on his genitals as he stared at the paper. You had meant that as a compliment, right? Because Jimmy was so capable. Because you knew Jimmy was a true leader. You hadn't meant to word it that way. You write at night, after all, maybe you'd just had a simple slip of the mind. Jimmy released his shaft, grabbing both sides of the hardcover now.
"Anya said-" Boo, who cared?
"Daisuke was so-" Unimportant.
"Swansea-" Old bag, old news.
"Grant and I-" Who gave a fuck about -
Jimmy stared down at the paper, hands unsteady. And then he blinked, rereading through the diary much more clearly. Why was it that you were referring to Curly by his first name? He hadn't taken much notice of the name Grant, because no one called Curly that name. It was a name Curly had left for his personal life, a name that wasn't a secret but was simply unknown unless asked. And yet here you were, doodling in your diary, writing Curly's name on every single fucking page. Jimmy scanned the pages, his pupils thin like a snake's. Grant. Grant. Grant. Grant Curly. What the fuck? Jimmy's breath came in sharp, ragged breaths, like a violent ocean crashing against a cliffside. His previous euphoria was lost to the rage bubbling inside of his intestines, hot and lethal in its volume. When the fuck did you and Curly get so goddamn close?
"I'm not paying $700 for two shitty properties!" You stated with a bright smile, giggling at Curly's playful eyeroll.
"They're not shitty properties. If they were, you wouldn't want them." Curly affirmed, inching his face closer to yours with a cheeky grin that sent your heart into a thousand roses. You two had been playing Monopoly for nearly an hour now - well, Daisuke, Anya and Swansea were there, too, but you and Curly had been in your own world the entire game, whispering stupid jokes, entertaining teasing banter, exchanging long glances...
Anya smiled fondly at you as you not-so-subtly flirted with the captain, perfectly content to laugh along with Daisuke's horrible methods and Swanseas grouchy humour. She batted her eyes at you, nodding her head to Curly in a silent acknowledgement of your closeness to the captain. You looked away shyly, though it was clear between the two of you exactly what she meant. You and Curly were so clearly crushing, and that realisation made butterflies swarm your insides.
The game ended with you bankrupt and Curly the sole winner. Turns out you should've just paid that $700, and Curly was quick to tease that. You both were packing away the game, playfully jabbing at each decision you'd both made throughout the game. Daisuke and Anya were chit-chatting on the couch, Daisuke eagerly showing off his Game Boy and demonstrating how to play a few of the games he'd packed aboard, and Swansea was off having one of his naps. Jimmy passed by briefly in a foul mood. It seemed his day off was going anything but swell, and he chose to keep his bitching and complaints to the silence of the cockpit.
You took Curly's hand, guiding him far away from everyone else and into the privacy of your sleeping quarters. Your hands were shaking, and your throat was tight, wrapped with hesitancy and a fear of consequences. What if you had misjudged things? What if you were in over your head and had just assumed his friendliness to be a romantic interest? What if he rejected you?
You didn't shut your door, too suffocated by the presence of Curly in your room and the thoughts scrambling your brain to mush. Curly followed you with overwhelming trust, guided by your movement to wherever it was you wanted to speak. His eyes warmed as he thought about how sweetly you had asked, a plea in your tone and a hint of excitement. He found his tongue caught when you invited him into your room, doing double takes to ensure no one saw him enter, especially not the certain someone privy to teasing the poor blonde into bashful shame (to be fair, Jimmy had always meant it degradingly, but Curly always seemed ready to bounce any insults off him).
Curly stood in front of you, his eyes so gentle that they could've been clouds on a soft sunset. His smile was faint - a patient expression meant to put your clear anxiety at ease. You relaxed your shoulders and breathed calmly, nervously taking one of Curly's hands in your own, to which he reciprocated your touch by circling his thumb on the back of your hand.
"Grant, I've been wondering..." You began, your chest vibrating slightly. You looked like a flower in an earthquake, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of what would happen should you have mistaken your real position in his life.
"I know we're still crewmates and I hope this doesn't interfere with anything, but...I've been really thinking about..." You swallowed. "About how...close...we are." Curly nodded his head closer, soaking in every single one of your words. His smile grew, his canine catching in the dim light in an uneven grin, and he released a chuckle of an exhale. You bit your lip, giddy that Curly reacted so sweetly, like an excited puppy.
"You're so sweet, Grant. And you enchant me like no one has before. I've never met a guy who makes me feel the way you do." You looked down, body trembling as you finally uttered what your mind had been blocking out for weeks now. "Grant, I...I think..." Your nose twitched, anxiously tapping his hand in yours.
Silence. Curly's hand stopped circling yours. His eyes widened, a dumbfounded expression planted on his chiselled features. You felt like a tectonic plate crashing in on yourself, colliding with the stupid thoughts and feelings you'd convinced yourself were true. You felt like such an idiot. You slowly pulled your hand away, assuming his silence as rejection when Curly tightened his grip. His other hand came to your jaw, tilting your face up to his own, which were shining with a newfound light. Then, he began to laugh, a bright laugh full of fervour as he cupped your cheek in his large hand.
Curly couldn't believe his ears. He was sure you'd never take any real interest in him. He was just the captain of the ship. Sure, in his youth, he might've been considered a lady-killer, but he never put any time into that concept to let it grow. He was a working man, one now doomed to be married to his job. But now that bleak reality melted away as he stared into your sparkling eyes, so full of nerves and yearning that he couldn't help but lean down to lessen the distance.
"You're so beautiful, Y/N." Curly complimented, gingerly pressing his lips to your cheek. It was a tad prudish, but he was concerned he'd overstepped had he connected his lips to your softer ones. After all, he couldn't fathom the idea of making you uncomfortable after you had just laid out your heart to him. He connected his eyes to yours, his face bloomed into a red blush and a gaze that could only be described as loving.
"I loved everything about you from the moment I met you." Curly asseverated, his heart bouncing around in his chest. You perked up, leaning into him and meeting his stare with your half-lidded one. As he pulled away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close enough to press your lips to his. It was only a peck, but when you broke it, he reconnected, your lips locked in a few shy pecks that grew easier and longer as you found each other's balance.
Finally, you both parted, slow, deep breaths keeping you both from being light-headed from the intensity of your confession. Your eyes fell down shyly, and he grazed your cheek to keep himself tethered to you, even twirling your hair on his finger.
"...so, does this make us..." You weren't sure exactly how to say it, but the eager smile gracing your lips made it clear. Curly matched your expression.
"If that's your pace, that's mine, too." He reassured, showing great comfort in your relationship, whether it was ready for publicity or not.
Jimmy paced around the cockpit, growling and grunting each time he thought about it. Your sunshine smile, Curly's cheerful grin, the way you two were so fucking close, so fucking intimate.
He threw the paperweight across the room, the heavy iron banging against the wall and crashing against the ground. He was steaming with fury. What were you playing at? What were you trying to do? You must've known he had been visiting you - you had left that diary out on purpose, to encourage him to be more forward - to force his hand.
Jimmy collapsed into his co-pilot's seat, clutching his head in his hands. He needed a break. He needed something to take the edge off. He pulled himself from the chair, barging through the door and down the hall, directly towards your room. He muttered to himself, angry rumbles about how unfair it was. Curly got everything. The world bent to his fucking will - the one time he had been given something - given someone so clearly his, Curly just had to get in the fucking way. Jimmy's eyes locked onto your bedroom door, his adrenaline surging. He didn't know what he'd take: maybe another pair of panties, maybe another pen. Hell, maybe he'd actually go through with it and snatch a bra. If you wanted him to be forward, he'd be fucking forward.
Jimmy paused. Your bedroom door was cracked open ever so slightly, just enough for light to seep through and reflect off one of his eyes. Voices. Your voice, your unmistakable, angelic voice...and Curly's...
Jimmy listened intently, his eyes darting across the scene with each syllable. At first, he thought you were going to tell Curly to back away. You'd been thinking...of what? How you love Jimmy? How you can't live without him? How you were made for him? You hoped your rejection didn't interfere with the crew? But those fantasies fell flat when he heard it: the dreaded confession. The most hellish, vile words spat out from those cotton-soft lips.
Jimmy saw red, his eyes wide, his pupils narrow, his face twisted in a scowl so deep it revealed an animalistic, primal rage never before felt to him. The blood pumped through his veins like thunder bellowing over mountains, the adrenaline making him feel so sick he could throw up right there and then. How could you have fallen in love with fucking Curly? How could you have denied your love for Jimmy?
What did Curly have that Jimmy didn't?
He wanted to grab Curly's neck and squeeze until Curly's eyes went bloodshot and his throat swelled. He wanted to bash his head against the fucking wall until all that was left was a pathetic clump of wet sludge. He wanted to rip out Curly's throat and watch him gurgle on his own blood. His mind fogged, and he fell back a few steps, his body moving before his brain could catch up. He retreated back to the cockpit, dry heaving as his oesophagus strained. This wasn't real; you weren't fond of Curly whatsoever. He would've noticed if you were. No, you must've been testing him again. Again? Why? Why did you have to keep giving him these fucking tests? He collapsed back into his seat, rocking back and forth as he thought back to every single encounter you had with him: you smiled at him, you laughed when he was around, you looked at him with those beautiful, magnetic eyes. That wasn't for nothing - that wasn't just friendly, there was more to it. There had to be more to it.
There was more to it.
He needed to take things to the next step. He needed to eradicate the problem. He needed Curly dead.
Jimmy's eyes shot to the route map, hands shaking with a newfound determination. There was only one way to remove Curly and keep you safe. Only one way for him to secure an immediate position as Captain. Only one way to truly prove to you just how worthy he was of your devotion.
In a few days, they'd be in range of a communication centre. It was the best place to be if you wanted an immediate response to an incident. It'd guarantee a rescue should something happen to the ship, especially if it were to be adrift in space. The best thing about it? Asteroids were extremely common in this area, too.
You and Curly had been going steady for two days now. You had told Anya the very night you'd confessed, the two of you celebrating with giggles and a long conversation about just how handsome and perfect Curly was. You were a proud girlfriend, kicking your feet at just the thought of your new, beautiful blonde boyfriend, and Anya was the most supportive best friend you could have. Aside from her, though, no one else was told. And no one needed to be. Your chemistry and attraction was so clear that Swansea and Daisuke didn't need to question whether you were dating or not because you and Curly never stopped talking about each other. It was the little things that really set it.
Curly would help lift something heavy onto one of the shelves, flashing his iconic, toothy grin before rushing off to help someone else, and you'd twirl a piece of hair on your finger, sighing, "Isn't he so thoughtful?"
Or you'd help Anya finish off some of her paperwork or clean up some things in the medbay, ensuring the place was tidy enough for her to work effortlessly, and Curly would walk in, place a hand on his hip and smile at you then look down at Anya. "Isn't she just the sweetest?" He'd rhetorically ask, already set on his answer as he returned to his task. Anya always gave you a look afterwards, and you'd both laugh together.
On the third night, you were in his room. You'd been cuddling since downtime, lying atop Curly, who had wrapped one muscular arm around your waist and the other on your back, giving him access to fiddle with your hair. You'd been talking about your day, yapping about the morning, and your conversations with Anya, and some of the silly jokes Daisuke had told you, typical things that always lit up your day. Curly had assigned himself as the listener in your relationship, patiently nodding to each and every detail you uttered. You nuzzled into him, your head against the crook of his neck. He was so warm, like a natural heat radiator, and you wondered how he hadn't suffered heat stroke yet in his uniform. You glanced at the clock, beginning to get restless. It was getting late. You knew you should go back to your room and let Curly rest up, but the thought of your bedroom made you queasy. You couldn't explain it, but something was wrong. Maybe it was haunted, maybe it was the quiet darkness getting to you, but you never felt alone in there. You always felt like there was something just around the corner, like you could feel hot breath on the back of your neck.
Curly furrowed his brows at your sudden silence, slowly rubbing your lower back. "Hey, what's on your mind?" He whispered, his deep voice grounding you from your paranoia. You gulped, shaking your head. "...it's nothing, it's just...I feel like I'm losing my mind." You confessed, pressing your face against his warm body as though it could absolve all your fears. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not alone in my room, like someone else is there. I know it sounds silly, but in the middle of the night, I swear I can hear somebody else breathing while I sleep." You looked at Curly for an answer, anything that could ease your anxiety. He didn't say anything at first, simply twirling your hair around his fingers before kissing your cheek.
"It's your first time on a ship, Y/N; it's natural to feel this way. I was the same." He reassured, wrapping his arms tighter around your smaller body. "Once you've done this a few times, you'll feel better. I promise." You nodded, your heart less unsteady as his words sank in. This was...normal. Okay. Sure. You trusted Curly, and if he claimed these fears would go away, then you'd believe him. Curly noticed your apprehension, still uneasy about the unknown noises in the night that had you dreading sleep, and the last thing he ever wanted was for you to feel like you couldn't come to him for something. So, he dipped his hand down to the back of your neck, moving your face to his.
"How about this: why don't you stay here tonight? It might ease your nerves a little bit." Curly offered, his breath fanning your cheeks. Your eyes widened: Really? Stay here? You blushed, smiling softly. "Really? Are you sure?" You asked, afraid to overstep, but Curly nodded. "Of course. I want you to feel safe. I can't let my girlfriend go to sleep afraid." Curly affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, one you reciprocated. You deepened the kiss, your hand behind his neck as you leaned in closer to him. You slid your other hand down his chest, feeling his toned body beneath his singlet. Then, you began to kiss down his jaw, leaving small, red marks across his flesh. Curly's hand came to your jaw, pulling you back up to kiss your lips.
"No, baby," He voiced, already aware of what you were trying to do, "not yet. I want your first time to be special." You paused, a bit disappointed, but ultimately, it was a respectful thing for him to do. He wanted to make your first time wonderful, and you smiled sweetly at him as you kissed his lips once more.
"Okay, we'll wait for a different day." You nodded, curling back into his warm body. Curly wrapped his arms around you tightly and pulled the blanket higher, ensuring you both were warm and comfortable.
You woke up on top of Curly, a small dribble of drool tracking down your chin and onto his singlet. You had been exhausted that night, your eyes so heavy that they felt like bricks. That was the first time you had slept well in weeks, and it felt somewhat poetic that it was the same night you spent with Curly, tangled in each other's limbs, atop one another and in a deep slumber. Curly was still fast asleep, snoring softly with his hand still tightly wrapped around your waist. You bit your lip and kissed his jaw, resting against him once again as you waited for his alarm, the same one that would signal another working day.
The morning went by pretty standardly. You made Curly a cup of tea, the two of you watched the televised sunrise, and Jimmy came out not too long after (though he was clearly irritated, so you chose not to say more than a greeting) and then it was the start of work. The tasks were easy enough, simple procedures, cleaning, checklists and the like. You'd just finished your first break when you passed Curly, your blonde boyfriend briefly stopping to check up on you. You liked these quiet convos, the ones that you technically shouldn't be having but felt like a cute one-on-one briefing. You told him about the mess in the storage room and how the crates were stacked like a maze, and he told you about how chaotic piloting through here could be and how he was glad he had Jimmy to assist in the safety of the Tulpar. You two parted, a quick peck before you did that left you in giggles and him with his staple sweet smile.
That should've been how the rest of the day went: giggles, tasks and a tired finish. That day should've ended like every other day you'd ever had here. But it didn't. You remembered exactly where you were when the ship suddenly jolted, sending you tumbling into a few boxes in the storage room. You stood steady again, inhaling sharp breaths. Had that just happened? Another sharp jolt sent you flying back, and then the alarms started blaring. They were loud, furious alarms, ones that screamed in your ear until your ears were ringing. You slapped your hands against your head, running out into the hall to see what the hell was going on. Had someone tampered with the controls again? Was the Tulpar air ventilation obstructed? What could've happened that caused the ship to scream? You called out to Curly as loudly as you could, unable to hear the sound of your own voice over the blaring alarms.
And then it happened. The worst sound anyone on a spaceship wanted to hear. Something slammed into the front of the Tulpar, the sounds of metal screeching as it was forcibly bent in on itself by an unstoppable force, the sounds of pipes exploding, glass shattering and fire blazing. The force had sent you flying back against the wall, hitting your head on a power box and knocking you out. You awoke not long after, with the alarms quiet and the sounds of buzzing, escaping steam and strange crackling noises from around the ship reminding you of what had just happened.
You stumbled around the halls, croaking out the names of your crewmates despite the agony in your throat. You inched closer to the cockpit, tenderly touching the bruised top of your head that had slammed against the power box, the lack of blood relieving, but the pain concerning. Hopefully, you didn't get a fracture. You paused outside the cockpit. You hoped to God that Curly would be in there, fixing whatever happened, making things better like he usually did. The door hissed open, and you choked. It smelt horrible, like fuel, burnt flesh and blood. Anya was already inside with Swansea by her side, Daisuke standing off to the side. The poor boy looked sick - hell, they all did. Anya was staring down at something behind the pilot's chair, petrified, and Swansea was at a loss for words. The second their eyes landed on you, they all tensed, the welcome not so warm nor so welcoming.
"...what happened?" You muttered, stepping inside. Why was everything so tense? Why was everyone avoiding eye contact with you? Where were Curly and Jimmy? You took another step closer, and Anya held up her hands.
"Y/N, no, please, stay there." She politely warned, and your heart sank at the sight of blood on her hands. You shook your head despite your unwellness, refusing to be useless in a clear time of need.
"Are you bleeding? Anya, let me help." You were no less than a metre away from the chair when something crunched beneath your foot. It was a sticky crunch, like crumbs and watery starch mixed together in a strange combination of thick fluid and soft crackling. It stuck to the bottom of your shoe, and you hesitated as you glanced at the soul. It was black and maroon, the two mixed together in a strange velvet concoction. You don't know why you did it: maybe you were just dazed, or curious, or both, but you dipped your hand down to touch the odd scrap, peeling it off your shoe with strange ease. It felt odd, like brittle leather, yet the soft belly was squishier and redder, too. You glanced up at Anya, opening your mouth to inquire about the odd item when you noticed more flecks of it around the ground. Some were smaller, some were larger. Some even resembled things all too familiar to you. One piece had a thick centre with two longer digits connected to one end, and some small ones were in thin cylinder shapes that were only a few centimetres long. There was one particularly strange piece that was the size of your palm. It was flat, like a disc, but there were small, tiny curls at the end of it. You gently pinched the curls in your pointer and thumb, surprised by how easily it snapped off. It almost looked like burnt -
You froze. Hair, it was burnt hair, shrivelled by the heat. Which meant...
You gagged, stumbling closer to Anya. The entire floor was covered in specks of burnt human flesh. You turned to Anya, intending to grab her, warn her, tell her, do anything that your frantic mind could think of. But Anya wasn't looking at you, nor the fried skin confetti'd around the room. She was looking down. And as you followed her gaze, your mind slowed to a halt, you saw it.
Red. A clump of red. Red that, in the worst way possible, somewhat resembled a human. And staring up at you from that bloody puddle of gunk, flesh, and muscle on the floor was an eye. A baby blue eye. You didn't need to think to instinctively know what - or who - was laid out in front of you like a fresh kill, except this one wasn't dead. No, you knew he wasn't dead because of the rattling. The sickly, strained, choked rattling that burst through his chest in puffs. The eye didn't falter; it just stared straight up at you, unblinking and aware. A thousand words trapped behind a slack jaw.
You knew you didn't pass out because you never saw black, but you didn't remember anything after that. Maybe it was the shock and inability to process such a traumatic sight, but you had no memories between seeing Curly's mangled body on the cockpit floor and seeing him now through the medbay window. Anya had wrapped his wounds as best as she could with what little they had. The return trip was supposed to be easier, supposed to be the guaranteed end to the long journey, and yet it was the most incomprehensible horror you'd ever witnessed. Anya was traumatised, that much was clear. She couldn't bear the sight of Curly, or the sounds he made as he gurgled on the pain killers. You'd taken up the role as Curly's caretaker, not just for Anya, though. Because...it was Curly. Your boyfriend. Your lover. Now reduced to burns, blood and muscle. But it was still Curly. You could see him, sometimes, pleading to you through his gaze for you to understand him, even if it felt like staring at a monster rather than your lover.
You hadn't spoken to anyone since it happened, not Daisuke, or Swansea, not even Anya. Jimmy was just as shocked as everyone else when he saw the state of Curly, gagging at the stench and even excusing himself to supposedly throw up. He took up the role as captain not too long after, being the one to carry Curly to the medbay and monitor his condition before Anya finished patching Curly as best as she could.
You opened the medbay door, gagging at the overwhelming scent of a salty, metallic combo sludging its way down your throat and violating your senses. Immediately, you covered your mouth, tears blurring your vision as you stepped inside. Curly looked so helpless. In a puddle of his own blood, his skin was torn away, leaving him vulnerable. Nothing uniquely his remained, nothing except for his one baby blue eye, the same one you'd stared into multiple times before: a part of him that you'd fallen in love with. You took the pain meds from the drawer, hands shaky as you stepped closer to Curly.
"Grant, are you still there?" You asked softly, waiting in silence for a few seconds. A long groan filled the air, followed by that same rattling. You swiftly held up the pills, tears brimming in your eyes. "I have some pain meds, okay? I'm gonna help you." You told him clearly, dropping the tablets in his mouth. Immediately, he began to gag, gurgling on the tables as his broken body strained to be of any use. You grit your teeth at the sound, praying it'd stop soon, but it always seemed to drag out just a little bit longer than the last. When the noises finally stopped, you eased your muscles, trying your best to be the supportive, loving girlfriend even though life had just turned in on itself.
You spent most of the day sitting on the metal chair beside Curly, refusing to leave him alone. You hated the stench of blood and the horrible moans he'd made from the pain, but you didn't hate Curly, far from it, you loved him. Loved him more than the stars in the sky. You refused to leave him for the first night and the second, insistent that you needed to stay in case the pain medication wore off in the middle of the night. After all, you couldn't leave him in so much pain for so long, and you could survive a few nights out here with him. And he needed you. Even if he knew that you couldn't stand the sight of him, or that you were disgusted and horrified by the coppery, mangled mess he'd become, he needed you, and you'd stay right by his side for every minute of it.
He'd done it. He'd actually done it!
Jimmy couldn't believe his eyes when he walked into the cockpit on that fateful day. The sight of Curly's burnt body, a pile of muck on the floor, was exhilarating. He had to leave before anyone saw the Cheshire grin on his face or heard his cackling turn into cruel jeering, bursting into his room and then bursting into a fit of laughter. He played the part of a shell-shocked friend pretty well, refusing to speak to anyone or look them in the eyes, but it wasn't entirely an act; it was partly because if he did, he wouldn't be able to keep his excitement down very long. Curly was irreparable, a useless clump of cells soon to be squashed into the ground, and now Jimmy was the successor. The captain. The winner.
And so began his dictatorship on the Tulpar. He was quick to scorn Curly, reciting how selfish it was for him to crash the ship, that he should've known how to avoid asteroids before he became captain, that if Jimmy had been in the cockpit, then none of this would've happened. It's a good thing Jimmy sent out an SOS to the communication centre before the asteroid hit; otherwise, you'd all be doomed. Wasn't he just the best?
And yet, you hadn't even turned your head his way.
He didn't understand. He was the captain now, the hero of your journey. He'd called for help, he kept things running, he had proven himself to you, hadn't he?
So why did you keep going back to Curly?
He paced outside of the medbay, glancing in occasionally to see if anything had changed, but it hadn't. You were still there, arms and head resting against the metal table, exhausted from the sleepless nights you spent beside Curly as if you could truly help him. It was sickening just how devoted you were to that clump of shit. Jimmy had burnt him to a crisp - Curly was literally just blood and muscle now - and you still stood by the bastard?
You really were testing him, huh?
The door hissed open, and he stepped in, watching as you strained your neck to look at him. You were tired. Deep purple eye bags dragged down your cheeks. Your lips were bitten to the point of bleeding from the stress and trauma. Trails of dry tears carved your skin. Your eyes were red and burning as you could muster no more water to leak down. It ached Jimmy's heart to see you so deflated, over a sack of dead weight, too. His face was stony as he stepped closer, stopping by your side. You both didn't say anything, choosing to instead focus on Curly, who released slow whines and raspy wheezes, incapable of filling his burned lungs.
"...How are you holding up?" Jimmy asked you, his eyes still dead straight on Curly. He feared that if he looked down at you, he'd smile. You shuffled, shrugging your weak shoulders as you softly sighed, the sound like a harp from heaven.
"I'm not," You answered truthfully, the nasally sound of your voice giving away just how many tears you'd shed since the incident. "I just don't understand how this could happen. He'd told me we were on course; there shouldn't have been any problems." You recalled, voice shaking as you remembered the sound of Curly's voice and how he had laughed off your concerns only a few days ago. God, you missed his voice.
Jimmy nodded to your words, placing his hand on your shoulder and waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. When you eased, he gently massaged his thumb across the dip of your bone. "Shit happens. Curly was too naive to see that." His eyes traced your face, each hard feature of his softening at your beauty. Even in despair, you were the most elegant creature he'd ever seen.
"You look tired, doll. Why don't you go to sleep?"
You shook your head. You couldn't leave, not now, not when Curly was awake and aching. Your hand trembled around the pill bottle. "I can't yet. It's nearly time for his meds." You stated simply, your words strangled as they ended unusually fast on your tongue. Jimmy gritted his teeth. You just wouldn't leave his side, would you? The darling, doting girlfriend - that should've been his. Not Curly's. His. Jimmy inhaled a sharp breath, biting his tongue, and he clenched his fist until the knuckles whitened. This was just a game - a game to test him. And he'd not just play it: he'd win it.
Jimmy sighed exasperatedly, folding his arms as he feigned a memory meant to invoke your empathy. "You know, I don't know if Curly ever told you, but we grew up together." Jimmy started, watching as your eyes lifted to him: as they should. "We've been close since childhood. Hell, he's like a brother to me." Jimmy turned to look down at Curly, from his scalped crown to his limbless nubs. He could feel his lips curl, and he forced them downwards. "I think you're the only person here who understands me." His tone shifted slightly, a different meaning altogether behind that statement that he hoped you wouldn't notice. His eyes shifted down to you. You were quiet and contemplative, considering what he'd said. Then, you held his hand in your own, squeezing it reassuringly. His heart skipped a beat: a lump in his throat he wanted to swallow down with a smile.
"I'm sorry," You voiced, struggling to your feet. You were off-balance and light on your feet, so tired you could collapse with a breeze. "This must be so hard for you." Jimmy smiled at your kindness. You really were an angel. He adjusted his position to be directly in front of you, bodies only a foot apart. Your head was down, but your eyes peered up to his, searching for a vulnerability: an understanding. You were coming around. Hell yeah, you were looking to him for support. Jimmy covered your hands with his large, calloused ones, feigning sensitivity to disguise his elation.
"It's hard for both of us." He corrected, circling his thumb on the back of your hand to ease you into a false sense of security. "I'm the only one who knows what you're going through, Y/N." He boldly moved one of his hands up to your face, pinching your chin and guiding your face to meet his. "I'm here for you." He grazed his thumb along your cheek, wiping away some of the moist trails that trickled down from your waterline. You sniffled, breathing softly at the tenderness of his tone.
"Thanks, Jim- er...captain." You corrected quickly, shifting your eyes down. Jimmy chuckled, a cocky grin spreading across his lips for just a moment before he schooled it. "Don't worry, doll. Jimmy's just fine." He couldn't deny that the sound of 'Captain' rolling off your tongue was arousing, the title secured to his name. It suited perfectly: it was supposed to be. But he much preferred the sweet shift your voice made when you pitched out each syllable of his name. It sounded better, sounded right. It didn't matter that he had berated and snapped at Daisuke and Anya for the slip of their tongue, or that he had been furiously reaffirming his position as captain to them, because it was...you. You already knew. And you had earned your right to call him by his first name by being perfectly tailored to him.
Jimmy brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice grumbling like distant thunder. "Why don't you go to bed, dollface?" He asked once again. Your mouth opened, ready to remind him about the medicine, but Jimmy simply slipped the bottle into his hand. "I'll take watch over Curly. You go rest those pretty eyes." You bit your lip, partly tethered to the medbay out of obligation and yet so unsteady that you might collapse at any minute. Your lips twisted into an unsure curl, thoughtfully considering the offer, but when you strained your jaw on a yawn, you knew the answer. And Jimmy did, too.
You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Jimmy, too lost in your sleep-deprived mind to realise the unusualness of the act. But Jimmy didn't complain; he instead wrapped his arms around you instantly, pulling your body tightly against his. He wasn't as warm as Curly, you noticed, more neutral, like lukewarm water. But that didn't matter, because you weren't seeking Curly in Jimmy, you were seeking assurance and understanding, and Jimmy was right there for all of it.
Jimmy was in disbelief. He hadn't expected a hug, not yet, but he wasn't complaining. Hell, this was a good sign, a great sign! You were initiating affection, proving just how devoted to him you really were. He knew you had just been testing him, and now he'd earned that affection he'd been chasing for so goddamn long. He pulled your head against his chest, his arm across your shoulders and his hand on your lower back. You felt perfect against him, like two puzzle pieces locked together. He took the opportunity to quickly sniff your hair, catching a whiff of that gentle, sweet scent he'd long learned to associate with you. How perfect.
Jimmy's head lowered, and he stared down, directly at Curly. The hunk of flesh just lay there, uselessly, seeping into the bandages, pathetically wrapping his body. He looked so broken. And Jimmy loved it. He smirked at Curly, his brown eyes locked onto Curly's ocean blue one, and then Jimmy's smirked cracked open into a large, maniacal grin, his eyes wide in a state of hysteria. He looked insane, completely lost in silent derangement as he looked down at the remains of his supposed 'brotherly best friend'. Curly could only stare back, his eyes panicked and iris shaking. His eyeball caught a watery shine, but now with burnt tear ducts, nothing could sustain: He was just there. A witness to an end.
You left Jimmy and Curly alone, rubbing your irritated eyes as sleep began to catch up to you. The second the medbay door hissed shut, Jimmy engaged the lock. He waited for a second, ensuring nobody would pass by before dropping his head, strands of his brown hair curtaining his shadowed eyes. And then, he began to laugh. A rumbling laugh that bellowed into frenzied cackles. He spun to Curly sharply, a mad buzz in his pupils as he strode to the living corpse. "I hope you're fuckin' happy, because I know I am." Jimmy mocked, pocketing the medicine bottle as he stared down at Curly. Curly could do nothing but lie there, listening. His eyes were glassy, moistened by a realisation he should've come to a long time ago.
"If you'd just stayed in your fuckin' place, maybe you wouldn't be all burnt up to shit." Curly groaned, laboured breaths passing through his strained lungs. Jimmy glanced at the clock. Two hours past midday. He was overdo for a pill. He cocked his head. "Feeling a lil' hurt, Grant? Medication worn off?" Jimmy raised his hand, the sight of his nearing digits sending Curly into frantic wheezes and gasps. "Why don't we have a look?" Jimmy dug his fingers into Curly's squishy, bloody arm, wriggling into each curve of his muscles and veins. Curly's breaths spiked, panicked and sharp, but he couldn't utter a scream. He couldn't express any of this burning and excruciating agony Jimmy forced onto him; he could only take it and hope it'd end soon.
"You should've known she was mine. It was so fuckin' clear. Always on me, flirting with me, she wanted me from the start, but you just had to swoop in. Be the fuckin' hero of the story. Well, guess what!" Jimmy slammed his palm against a thick layer of muscle, shooting pain up Curly's arm. "This is my fuckin' story. And now you're just a pile of shit. No hands to touch her, no dick to fuck her, no fuckin' voice to even talk to her." Jimmy leaned forward, digging his nails into Curly's limb and down it until small clusters of blood and gunk piled under his nails.
Jimmy harshly snatched his hand back, his palm soaked in Curly's blood as the man lay there, still staring. Jimmy wiped his hand on Curly's bandages, grunting from the scent of stale copper. Revolting. Pathetic. This was the great Captain Curly? Jimmy stared down at him, his eyes swimming with disgust but his grin brimming with amusement. Reduced to nothing. As he always should've been.
Usually, you can tell what a person will be like within a few minutes of conversation with them. Sure, there's the depth that comes with a closer bond, but an initial briefing can provide a lot of information about their character. When Jimmy met you, he knew exactly what fate had designed. You were so sweet, like sugar water, and just as tasty to the senses. Your voice was like a harmony, your features like a painting, your skin as soft as cotton. You were everything Jimmy had needed in life: an equal. Someone who could understand him and test him. He'd never felt so passionately for anything in his life, not until he met you. That black void in his pit had been sealed - his tormenting brain now silenced. Your eyes had never reflected degradation when you looked his way. They never seemed mean-spirited or rejected. You were always so...bright. Like heaven incarnate.
Like an angel.
His angel.
From the beginning, he knew you were everything he'd ever needed. A lover. A devoted partner. Someone who would love him unconditionally. You'd see to him every night and look to him when you needed help. You'd be unbelievably loyal, so that he'd never have to question your position. Because you were perfect. And Jimmy had earned that perfection. That's why God had gifted him an angel in the first place. The most gentle, sweetest, beautiful angel.
And right now, his angel was devoted. Just not to him.
To fucking Curly.
After your nap, you came back, blissfully unaware of the torture Curly had been through from Jimmy's hand and the painkiller deprivation. Jimmy had hoped you'd praise him for his part in the play, for discarding Curly's position of power and claiming it for himself. But you didn't. You simply thanked him, took the meds back and went right back to your place by Curly's side, like a loyal little puppy. It was revolting, watching you degrade yourself to a position next to the croaking mould of a monster, and it made no sense to him. The test should be over by now. He'd eliminated Curly - cast the man into flames and watched him burn black and red. What more did you want? What did it take to end this gnawing sense of desperation? He'd crashed the Tulpar - he'd earned the title of 'Captain', he was doing everything at your whim just to earn a moment of validation.
He watched you closely from sunrise to sunset (as he did most days). You'd lend him a clue, right? A hint for what he'd forgotten. He watched you in the medbay during the mornings, barking orders to Anya, Daisuke and Swansea and sending them as far away from you and him as possible. It didn't matter if his commands made sense or not; they were crew, they should've known their tasks already. Even with tasks necessary to the captain's role, it seemed Jimmy couldn't handle them. At least not with the same grace as Curly. Swansea needed the captain's gun to access supplies? Jimmy would shove the old man off, demanding he wait until Jimmy was finished 'working'. Yeah, working. Totally not leering at you from afar. Daisuke had a question? He'd direct Daisuke to Swansea. The old man was his mentor, after all. He should then act like it. Anya needed to do a mandatory check-up? Anya was easy to scare. A simple glare at her and she'd excuse herself. Well, not for long. He knew he needed to do it eventually, but he'd rather do the mandatory shit when you were sleeping, slipping away to do real "work" for an hour at a time until you were awake again.
Jimmy took over for you daily now. Once night hit, he'd enter the medbay, taking the pills from your hand just to toss them aside once you retired to bed. That's when his sadistic fantasies came to life in the form of gruelling, sweat-inducing hours of torture all at Curly's expense. He'd experimented with a few things now: rubbing alcohol, salt, small incisions on small sections of his body, enough to hurt like hell but be unnoticeable in the chaotic folds of his tendons and flesh. His favourite part, though, was digging into his flesh with his bare hands. He'd ensure not to wash them of whatever alcohol, salt and dirt was already clinging to him, purposely gripping the fragile bone of Curly's jaw and staring directly into his eye as he dug into the maze of his muscles, sinking his fingers into the ends of his burnt nubs and thighs. It felt right. Like an earned treat for all the rage and jealousy that bubbled inside of him - the envy that made him want to rip out his insides and tear apart the dreaded feeling that greened him.
The torture always ended the hour before morning when he'd clean himself of any evidence. No one would question why one of the towels was now soaked in blood - Curly's constant bleeding excused that. No one questioned why Curly's breathing would hitch every time Jimmy entered the room, after all, the ex-captain was now just flesh and blood. He could be straining his breath for a variety of reasons, considering his condition. If only someone could just see what Curly saw. If only someone saw the monster behind the facade. The very poor facade. The same one Curly had defended for years.
Jimmy watched you intently throughout the next few days. Waiting for a hint at what he'd missed. He heard a lot of the same shit. "Good morning, I love you, I hope it doesn't hurt," blah, blah, blah. Meaningless shit. He had to force himself to stare straight and not roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of your faithfulness to a blob of tendons.
"I was so worried I'd lose you last night." Jimmy rolled his eyes to the ceiling, feigning a yawn.
"Come on, just stay a little longer." That was a plea not even a saint could preach faith into.
"Don't scare me so much, okay?" Jimmy internally scoffed more at the underlying meaning than the pathetic humour accompanying it.
"Please, don't leave me." That one frustrated Jimmy the most. Don't leave you? You were mocking a corpse on the verge of death. If you wanted a man who wouldn't leave you, then Jimmy was right there! No, instead, you focused on the weak one. The pathetic, crisped, coward that was now nothing but a sick joke - an excuse for what was true power.
Why were you so obsessed with a dead man? What was it about Curly that kept you tied to him, no matter how mangled and fucking ugly he was? Why did you still insist on being so goddamn stubborn?
Jimmy watched you slip two pills into Curly's mouth, cradling Curly with your company. You talked to him every day about this and that: how your day went, how you felt, all the lovers' shit that made him sick to the stomach. You always loved to talk, talk, talk. Talk about shit that you could talk to him about. At least he could actively listen to you. At least he could actually utter a sentence! Instead of croaky groans and puffed wheezes.
He thought over your interactions with Curly. There had to be something to clue him in, something underlying that would secure your heart in his hand.
Worried about him all night.
Stay a little longer.
Don't scare you.
Don't leave.
Jimmy paused, his lips parting as he mouthed the words. Oh, God, it was so obvious! He burst into laughter in the medbay, controlling himself swiftly to ensure no one heard him, and once he was sure he was safe, he leaned forward. Die. Curly had to die. That was the only way to keep you to himself. That was the only way to end this constant torment that made him want to rip out each strand of his greasy hair. The only way to release the envious monster leaking into his very soul.
He chuckled. Wow, weren't you just a little sadist? Pushing a man to his very limits.
You'd been tossing and turning for ages. Ever since Jimmy had taken over as captain, the sleeping hours had been extended by three. You were grateful, definitely. Your sleep debt had been racking up, and it helped to have a longer time to drift in and out of consciousness, considering the night terrors awoke you often. But tonight was different. It felt draining, like a battery with a busted charger: an attempt that would never work. You'd slept in every position your body could allow, and yet each one filled you with more adrenaline than the last. It didn't make sense: you'd slept fine - as fine as you could - the nights previous. So why is it that you couldn't catch a wink of sleep tonight?
You sat up on your bed, your loose shirt hanging off one shoulder while your pants rode up, a cold breeze chilling your thigh. You couldn't shake the uncanny tickle up your spine. The intuition that something was wrong: something...had shifted. As much as you hated the dark twists of your mind in the depths of your rest, you'd rather deal with flashbacks than this cruel, unsettling flicker hatching in your belly.
You just needed a walk. Some fresh air. Maybe talk with Jimmy and see if he had these same issues, too. He'd been so helpful lately. He'd watch over Curly while you slept or helped around the ship, sit with you when you had a concern. He wasn't your first choice, but he was definitely the second, and it was a comfort to know there was someone else who could understand the depths of your trauma to a similar degree.
You dragged your feet down the cold, quiet hallway, careful to not disturb your sleeping crew. The darkness seemed wary, as though any imaginary monster was cowering back, stripping you to vulnerability to the ship itself. Your bare feet tensed on the freezing metal floor, your heart pounding against your ribs. You were just anxious, for many good reasons. The crash, Curly, the nightmares, you had a reason to be on edge. You hoped Jimmy wasn't too tired of listening to your blabber. You always did avoiding telling him much, certain it was information that'd be stored somewhere less favourable. Maybe not rumours and gossip, but...something else that you weren't too familiar with. You turned the corner to the medbay section, freezing at a strange sound.
Your ears perked as you focused, trying to determine the sound. Was it one of the broken pipes? Was there another issue to repair? No, it sounded wet. Was something leaking? You shuffled forward with tentative steps, light on your toes to try find the source of the sound. It was getting closer to the medbay. No, it was coming from the medbay. Your brows furrowed, doubling your pace. What the hell was going on in there? Your stomach twisted when you felt a fresh wave of air hit the hallway, the only location it could come from being the room. But that couldn't be possible - the door was always shut. At least, every time Jimmy was in there, it was. It was a contamination risk considering Curly was more susceptible to diseases without his skin, plus, no one could stand the scent of Curly's failing flesh, and the pungent aroma had been limited to just the medical centre. So why now, in the dead of night, was the door open?
You crept closer to the open doorway, straining your eyes in the dark. The lights were off inside. That wasn't right. That wasn't protocol. The gurgling grew worse, more strained and strangled before sudden bursts of rasped puffs softened in the air. And then there was silence. You stood frozen in the doorway, hunched over as you tried to make out the shapes in the darkness. You blinked a few times, beginning to see silhouettes of the tables and chairs. And directly in front of you, at Curly...and a figureright beside him. You flipped the light switch on, flooding a dirty white hue throughout the room, and what you saw right in front of you sickened you to the core.
Jimmy was hunched over Curly, his hands clawing into Curly's weak throat. His arms were soaked in blood, from his hands to his sleeves, and as he looked over his shoulder, you could see the red staining the front of his uniform, too. Curly lay there on the table, bare, his bandages unwrapped and strung down the side or clumped at the floor. His eye was glassy and his mouth agape, his tense jaw now slack and loose. You were at a loss, frozen in incomprehensible terror and horror. What the hell had just happened?
You didn't linger on the thought for too long, your body moving long before your mind could catch up and slamming yourself against the table edge, grabbing at Curly desperately.
"Oh, my God, Curly? Curly, baby, don't do this to me. Please don't do this." You pleaded, tears burning your waterline as you tried to find a place to feel for a pulse or to see a breath, but there was none. Even his beautiful eye had clouded over. This wasn't true; it couldn't be. You refused to believe it. He couldn't have been gone. You had seen him only a few hours earlier when you had swapped shifts with Jimmy. You'd blown him a kiss, reassuring him you'd be back. That you'd be there. And now he wasn't.
Tears slipped down in rapid lines, your chest heaving as you pathetically pleaded to a man no longer there, lost in a deck of fates created in your mind, filled with 'what-ifs' and heroic scenarios. Curly couldn't have been gone. You dropped your head against the table, snot trickling down your nose and drool soaking on your tongue as you sobbed out. Then, you turned. Jimmy stood beside you, breathing heavily. So heavily that you thought he might be in hysterics, lost in a world of grief like you were. But you were poorly mistaken.
Jimmy stared down at the corpse of his childhood friend, his eyes widened to the point they looked like saucers. His pupil was shaky, and his lip quivered. He looked confused, almost dazed. But then he flickered his eyes to you, and his cheeks tightened, his lips cracking as they stretched into a wide, maniacal leer. His eyebrows lifted as though he were pleased, unfazed by the fact that his brother was now gradually cooling on a metal surface. Then, he snickered, dropping his head down but not breaking a moment of eye contact.
"He's dead," Jimmy stated simply, his tone so casual with ease. You dropped your shoulders, your eyebrows dropping as you watched Jimmy with a struggling and slow shake of your head. He was laughing. Laughing at the sight of his dead friend. Laughing at the literal blood on his hands.
"You did this?" You realised, hand falling down to what remained of Curly's arm. Jimmy's smile slackened, an uneven curve to his lips. He rolled his eyes, seemingly exhausted by your question as though it was the most obvious and childish inquiry. "Of course I did, stupid. What else was I supposed to do? Chase your tail until he croaked?" Jimmy chuckled, so relaxed as though he were telling a joke and not reciting the murder of his brother. You shook your head, static in disbelief. "You didn't make it easy to figure out, dollface. But I got there. I always do." Jimmy stepped closer to you, and you flinched back, choking on a blocked exhale. A single tear rolled down, one frozen from the grim reality you'd now trapped yourself in.
"You killed him." You choked, breathing, hiccuping as your sobs fell from your tongue, held back by the adrenaline surging through your veins. Now was not a time for weakness; it was for survival. Jimmy held up his bloody hand, silencing your voice as it hit the air. "For us! I killed him for us, Y/N, don't act so fuckin' innocent!" Jimmy snapped at you, your body stiffening. He'd never snapped like that at you before, and after seeing what you just had, you wondered if you'd be next. Another body on the chopping block.
"If you weren't so stubborn, I wouldn't have had to work so hard," Jimmy accused, taking a step closer to you. You jumped up to your feet, no longer crouched to Curly's level, as you kept all of your focus on him. Jimmy noticed your staggering, but he didn't care. This was the moment: the confession. The unity he'd been waiting for since the day his eyes fell on yours.
"There's nothing in our way now, baby. No more tests. No more bullshit. I'm fucking done with the bullshit." Jimmy's voice strained as he spoke, each word more guttural and primal than the last. He was coming undone: falling apart at the seams. And accusing you of his downfall. You shook your head frantically, eyes darting between his blood-soaked uniform and his unhinged expression stretched wide on his face. This wasn't your fault! You didn't even know what he was talking about. You took another step back, suffocating on the tension and gagging as Jimmy closed the distance with a step forward. You opened your mouth, struggling to form a sentence before blubbering out a flurry of stutters.
"I-I don't know - I'm n-not -" Fat tears bubbled down your face as your head spun, bile rising up your throat. "You're sick, you're fucking sick." You snapped at him, shutting your mouth as Jimmy's smile faltered, half his joy replaced with an uncontained rage. He waited a moment, a muscle twitching in his cheek, before flashing you those white canines, any happiness in his smile dispersed and replaced with fury. "Don't. Lie," he warned, his body towering over you. You swallowed, knees weak as you froze, caught like a bunny. "Not to me." Jimmy breathed slowly, leaning forward ever so slightly to you until you flinched, still uneasy. He frowned. You were scared. Of him, nonetheless. Jimmy softened his face, attempting to relax your quelling anxieties.
"Shh, I know, I know. It's a lot more intense when you see it, but I did it, baby, I set you free. And now that Cur-he's gone...we can be one, like we were meant to be." Jimmy's face shadowed, staring down at you with a burning intensity, one riddled with an anguish he'd been fighting for weeks.
"I'm not playing any more games, Y/N. I'm sick of the games."
Jimmy went quiet, and the air stilled, thick with the tension of his warning. Everything else he'd been saying, though laced with misunderstood delusion, had at least been lighter on the mind compared to his final warning. Games? What games? You inhaled sharply, your heart beating rapidly. Jimmy hummed at your silence, watching you for a long, long moment, and once he saw the anxiety roll over your shoulders and the anticipation shape your figure did he smile. A soft smile. A genuine one.
Jimmy tilted his head, looking down at you like a flower yearns for the sun. "Don't be scared, Angel." He whispered slowly and sultrily, raising his rough hand to your jaw. He licked his lips eagerly, ready to finally taste you. And then you locked your eyes onto his hand, and before Jimmy could react - before you yourself even realised - you turned and sprinted. Fast. Your bare feet slammed against the metal floor, your brain numbed from thoughts, as escape became your only solution. Run. Run fast. Before it was too late. You imagined his breath on your neck as you ran, imagined the cruelty it took to end your lover's life, and any sleep you'd once had was now re-energised into pure adrenaline. You didn't even know where you were going, just far from Jimmy, far from the medbay, far from...everything.
You slammed your hand against the button to the storage room, tears wetting your cheeks. You hadn't even realised you were crying; you hadn't made a single sound in your distress. You couldn't, you physically couldn't utter a phrase. It was like you were completely locked into survival. The second the door opened, you threw yourself inside, running through the maze of boxes in an attempt to find anywhere to hide - anywhere to cower from Jimmy Zare.
Jimmy watched you run with a sigh. Of course. Fucking games. He turned to his right, pocketing a syringe he'd already set. He had planned to visit you after Curly was dealt with, but it appeared he'd have to do things the hard way. He stalked after you slowly, listening intently to any taps or clutters. He walked through each part of the ship, analysing each room with a sharp eye. He had a feeling he knew where you were: the only part of the ship someone could realistically hide, but as much as he despised them, he kind of liked this game. This one was fun. This one made him feel powerful.
He skulked to the storage room, his lips curved as the doors hissed open with ease. He took a single step inside, perking up to the ambience present. Yeah, you were in here. He could feel it. Feel the pull that had him hooked since the first day you'd met. He walked slowly but purposefully, ensuring to hit crates and rattle plastic. Anything to let you know that he was here, and he knew exactly how to find you.
You had cornered yourself behind a half-stack of crates, the boxes so lazily strewn about that it would be nearly impossible to get near you without making a sound. The room was pitch black, the only light coming from the doorway, which promptly shut after a few long seconds. Then, it was an abyss. You trembled beside the crates, knees pulled to your chest as your breath laboured, struggling to calm yourself as you shook. Each little noise Jimmy made echoed through the room, each rattle bouncing off the walls until you couldn't identify its origin. You huddled into yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if it'd go. As if he'd go away.
Tap. Rattle. Tap. Rattle. Silence.
You held your breath, waiting. No sounds. Your lungs burned, desperate for a fresh breath, but you refused, turning your head to stare in the direction of the door. Silence. Your throat bobbed, and finally, you exhaled.
And hot breath hit your cheek.
Time slowed as you widened your eyes, turning your face to see two vivid, brown eyes staring straight back at you. Everything stopped as you both just stared at one another, lost in two very conflicting emotions: your fear and his exhilaration.
After a very long moment, and before his second breath could fan you, you moved, brushing your shoulder against his before his hand tangled in your hair, brutally ripping you back towards him. You were winded against his chest, gasping for air as Jimmy slapped his hand over your mouth, your feeble hands clawing at his. He cursed as he struggled to keep his grip, your sobbing voice ringing out into the room.
"Please, don't kill me! Please, Jimmy, don't - don't do this!" You pleaded, sobbing until drool dribbled down your chin and your eyes brimmed with overflowing tears. Jimmy sighed dreamily, harshly clutching your jaw in his hand until the bone creaked. "Oh, all this time and you still haven't caught on, huh?" He snickered, forcibly tilting your head to look up at him. "Cute as a bunny, and as dumb as one, too." He dipped his head to your hair, inhaling deeply before releasing an exasperated breath. Then, he licked your flesh, savouring the warmth on his tongue and leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, pressing his face to yours. "I'm over the excuses, Doll." He licked the salty flavour of your tears off his lips. "You can't just carve me open and leave me to bleed." He craned your neck painfully, a soft whimper falling from your lips. "So quit being a fucking victim."
You squeaked as his warm muscle trailed your cheek, completely dumbfounded as your eyebrows creased in confusion. What the hell was he talking about? When the hell did he get so psychotic? You gulped, straining to control your breaths which clawed at your ribs. "...what?" You whispered. Your hands gripped around Jimmy's, weakly trying to pry him off, though every strain led to a tightening grip. Jimmy chuckled darkly, pulling your hair back to extinguish any thoughts of rebellion. "What?" He mocked, shaking his head. He was almost amused by your baffled face - half-amused and half-tired. He nuzzled against you, kissing every bit of exposed skin that met his eye. He was like a leech, sucking at every spare section he saw, stuck onto you like a parasite. You wriggled beneath him as he loosened your jaw, the bone aching and bruised. Begrudgingly, he pulled away, his free hand slipping from your view.
"God, I love you." He confessed, pulling back a few inches to stare directly into your glimmering eyes. He was so fond of them - fond of you. His lips curled into an even smile, a gentle one so opposite the chaos you'd just endured. "And now we can finally be together. Like we were meant to be." Something sharp poked against your neck, and you jumped, making Jimmy yank you back into place. The small, sharp sensation returned, teetering on the fragile layer of your skin, prodding as it prepared to insert deeper.
"Don't be scared, sweetheart." He angled the syringe, staring into your eyes. "And don't be stupid, either." The needle pierced your skin, sinking deep into your flesh as a cold liquid oozed into your body. You yelped, fresh tears falling down your lashes as you peered up at Jimmy, black dots obscuring your vision. Jimmy returned your gaze, his eyes never once leaving yours as your eyelids grew heavy and your breathing shallowed. And then it was all black.
Your bones felt creaky, like a rusted door hinge. Your muscles were locked, too, as though they were hardened cement. What the hell happened?
Jimmy. Jimmy's what happened. Your mind flooded with memories of Curly, your poor, loving boyfriend, now lifeless due to one psycho's breakdown.
Your eyelids were heavy, and you blinked a couple of times before a small sliver of light peered through the darkness. Your body was slack and heavy, and your mind was a maze, but you could at least register some things: That Jimmy was a murderer. And this wasn't your room.
The doorknob clicked, and you flickered your gaze in that direction, squinting as you made out the outline of a dark figure. His uniform was still bloodied and dishevelled, his hair flat and his posture easy. You didn't have to stare long to know who it was who stood there, and your eyes narrowed at the man who'd ultimately destroyed one of the best things in your life.
Jimmy was humming a tune to himself, a casual smile on his lips as he unzipped his uniform, the coppery scent of Curly's blood a refreshing reminder of how far he'd come. How easy it all would now be. He spun on his heel to look down at you against his bed, hair splayed across his pillows and eyes staring straight at him - it sent a thrill up his spine, heat building from his groin to his heart. You were finally awake.
He strode over to you, uniform discarded, and now wearing only the stained, white top and loose, black pants. His body was marred, his hands covered in scars and scratches from a life of rugged violence. His arms held marks, too, of a story too old to be retold. Jimmy cradled your face as he stared down at you; all the rage and violence from yesterday dissipated into what was now a lovesick, neurotic simper.
"Good morning, beautiful." He cooned, leaning down to press a kiss to your frozen lips. You tensed up as he smothered yours with his, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip and gliding along your teeth. He gently pried open your jaw, forcing his tongue into your mouth and licking aimlessly in your moist cavern, his actions thoughtless and on an impulse. You wanted to throw up and run, struggling to gather your strength, but you were only able to shift ever so subtly. Jimmy pulled away as he felt your strain; a line of saliva connecting you as he flashed a bashful grin.
"Heh, sorry. Used a bit too much last night." He teased, referencing his miscalculation of the strength of the drugs he'd pumped into your bloodstream. He crawled on top and straddled you, both of his hands grazing up and down your sides, mapping up your curves, dips and features. He dipped his head back to your neck, inhaling your scent as one hand slid up to your chest, gently groping you through your pyjama top. Your breath hitched instantly, eyes darting around the room in a quick panic before he kissed your temple to calm you.
"It's okay, baby, it's all sorted now." Jimmy crooned, squeezing your breasts once again before kissing down your neck, placing sloppy, hot kisses until he reached your collar. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples, pebbling them to his satisfaction. "There's nothing in the way anymore. We can finally be together." He lay beside your unmoving body, one arm pulling you close to his until he was practically spooning you, the other hand on the back of your neck to guide your face to his. He just stared at you, as if taking in every single line of your face, like you were a scripture from the Gods and he was a devoted prophet. He slipped his leg between yours, tangling you together like a vine strangles a tree and rested his face in the crook of your neck, now at peace and without a worry. He listened to the pulse of your veins and the anxious breaths that lulled him into a state of relaxation. Exhausted, his eyes fluttered shut, and you listened to his breathing fade into slow breaths and an eventual deep snore.
The day was uneventful, aside from the shuffling outside of Jimmy's door that no doubt belonged to Anya, Daisuke and Swansea as they processed the grief of Curly's death. Jimmy faded in and out of sleep, content with the feeling of your frame snugly clicked into his. He'd speak every so often about everything, mostly praising, uttering how lucky he was to have found you before someone else did, or how aggravating your 'tests' were - though he understood your reasoning for them. Understood that they were necessary for the prize to pay off. You recovered slowly throughout the day, your limbs less weak, allowing you some basic movement. By nightfall, you could sit up on the bed, forced against the pillows and in Jimmy's lap (so, it really didn't feel like much of an accomplishment), but at least you could push against his arm every time he got too touchy.
And touchy, he was. The second his body clock sensed the incoming approach of night, his touches got bolder. He began to suck at your neck again, even nipping it in some sensitive parts until purple hickeys were left in scattered splotches. His hands began to wander, too, from the sharp angles of your shoulders to the dip of your hips. His hips would gyrate ever so slightly whenever you shifted from the uncomfortable proximity, the feel of your body on his already shooting a million thoughts from his head to his dick, which you could feel was hard and pressed against your ass. At first, you simply rubbed his arm and nudged it away, growing increasingly irritated as he persisted, eventually resorting to swatting and smacking.
Jimmy scowled as you brushed him off. What was with you and your fucking games? Couldn't you let him just have one win? Why was it always a dance with you? He tried to entice you with his actions, initially snatching your hand in his and kissing it, hoping to sway you into giving up this pathetic act, but every rejection was a tear in his heart. He'd fought for you, hurt for you, killed for you. And you were still hurting him. Like he didn't matter. Like you hated him. Finally, when you grumbled an irritated 'stop' and smacked him again, he snatched your hand in his, pushing you off him and flat against the bed. He stood up, turning to you with an enraged expression which he struggled to soften. It was just a game, he reminded himself, just another fucking test. Because if it wasn't, then that meant you didn't love him. And that wasn't an option for you.
"You're pissing me the fuck off, Dollface." He snapped, puffing up his chest as he towered over you, shadowing your body. You struggled to sit up, legs still under the effect of the drug and heavy beneath you. You slipped them off the bed, anchoring you to the side as you faced with a cautious but firm gaze.
"You're a fucking psychopath, Jimmy." You replied swiftly, hands gripping the mattress to comfort you in a gaze that stared down at you so uncomfortably. Jimmy sneered, his cheek muscle twitching in fury at your bold claim. He grabbed your jaw roughly, pushing you back an inch to re-establish his position above you.
"Psychopath?" He breathed, narrowing his eyes as if waiting for you to correct yourself. You didn't. "Fine, you wanna be a fuckin' brat?" he growled, heaving breaths before releasing slow, deep chuckles. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your cheek and grinning when you flinched. He kissed further down your jaw and then your neck, his kisses like a vile venom threatening to pierce your skin with his sharp teeth. He continued until he was on his knees in front of you, kissing all the way down your clothed chest until he was resting his head against your stomach. He hummed and waited for a moment, his chest pressed against your knees until he began to rise up once more, tangling his hands in your hair. He yanked your head back, the burn making you yelp and tears prick in your eyes, and then you felt it: a cold, sharp metal graze against your leg.
Jimmy stared down at you with a half-tired expression and a glimmer of amusement. Hell yeah, you pissed him off. But you were the most entertaining thing in his life, and he'd do anything to keep that spark of yours burning. "If you don't quit acting like a fuckin' idiot, then I'm going to slash Anya's throat." He propped up the axe in his hand, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. "Unless that's what you want, baby. Is that what this is all about?" He twirled your hair. "You want me to kill Anya? What about Daisuke and Swansea? 'Cus I'll do it. I'll axe them in their fuckin' sleep if that's what it takes." It was an offer, and when you didn't reply and only looked up at him with that dumb, doe expression, he took it as a promise. Without another word, Jimmy turned on his heel, leaving you on the bed in a world that crashed down with each step that he took to the door.
You felt sick. Like you'd been punched in the gut and stabbed in the chest. He was lying, he wasn't serious, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't...but when his hand reached the doorknob and twisted, the axe in his hand lifted in preparation for a pre-planned blow on the first to meet his gaze, you crumbled.
You pushed yourself off the bed, collapsing instantly to the cold, hard floor that echoed a 'thud' throughout the room. But you didn't care if you were winded and weak, legs turned to jelly and trembling, because you were terrified. Terrified to hear the screams of anyone else you cared for. Terrified of causing another death. Tears were streaming down your face as you crawled to him, weak and pathetic and utterly hopeless. You choked out a strangled plea, looking up at Jimmy with snot running down your lip and eyes flooding till you couldn't see.
"No! No, please, don't - Jimmy, don't, please." You begged, chest rattling with each desperate whimper. He paused, looking down at you with a neutral frown and interested eyes. Your arms burned as you tried to move, and eventually your body collapsed, simply lying there as you looked up at him from the floor, a drooling mess.
"I'm sorry," You hiccuped, your face curled down. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. Please don't kill them, please...you can do anything to me but don't hurt them." Your head fell to the ground as your sobs overtook, puddles of water forming on the cold metal with each blink from your eyes. You waited there, expecting to hear the door open and the inevitable slam of an axe on squishy flesh, but as you waited, your ears ringing with a reality not yet told, only silence followed. Then the footsteps returned, slow and methodical, until they stopped right at your head. You peered up to see Jimmy, staring down at you with a shit-eating smirk. He was overjoyed, almost vibrating with excitement at the sight of you so broken down. Prick.
"Oh, baby doll, did I scare you that much?" He cooed, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. You didn't move, simply staying pressed down as though you could ignore him forever. He cupped your face in one hand, pulling you up to look him dead in the eye. Your teary lashes fluttered as you met his gaze, and his heart skipped a beat. So pretty, even at your lowest point. Jimmy slipped his hands beneath your body, propping you against his as he carried you back to the bed, resting you gently on the cushions. You were as stiff as a brick, but you didn't speak this time, keeping your mouth sewn shut. Jimmy wiped your tears with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss to your nose before he pushed you down against the pillows. You didn't dare to move, didn't dare to even breathe too loudly. Maybe if you were still enough, it'd all disappear and wouldn't have happened at all.
Jimmy slipped his hand beneath your shirt as he pressed gentle kisses along the angle of your jaw. His hands contrasted your cool skin, the heat soaking into your bones and sending goosebumps over your body. One of his rough hands slid further along the curve of your stomach, resting on your ribs right under your boob. He nipped your neck as he cupped your bare breast, leaving a love bite in his wake. His hand was rough and worked, calloused from years of experience on both the ship and in violence, though despite the gruffness of his skin, his touch was gentle and tender. He rolled his thumb over your nipple, circling the pebbled bud as he continued to grope and mould the sensitive flesh. You sucked in a deep breath, heart pounding in your chest as the pleasure lulled through your body, easing your eyes into half-lidded semi-circles. It was hard to deny that euphoria bubbling through your abdomen or the way your heart caught in the bob of your throat. You wanted to hate it and reject every moment of it, but Jimmy’s touch was gentle - gentler than you’d expected - and when you glanced down at him, you could see the fascination in his eyes. He kept pawing at your breast, his mind wandering as though he was taking in every shudder and shift of your body.
He pulled his hands out for a moment, leaning up to place a kiss on your lips before his fingers pinched the hem of your shirt, pulling it up in one swift movement and bunching it over the swell of your chest. You stiffened as the cold air bit your vulnerable flesh, your nipples perking in the cold, and your legs shifting from the tension. Jimmy held your face in one of his hands, angling you to look up at him with your flushed face. He stared into your eyes for a moment before a smug smirk trailed up his lips, and he kissed you once more. “Ain’t you so pretty?” He rhetorically asked, his teeth flashing for a moment before he palmed both of your breasts in his hands. He crawled back down to face your chest, his hot breath fanning your skin, before a hot, wet strike pressed down on your nipple. You gasped, head falling back as his tongue flicked your tit. He waited a moment to gauge your reaction before lowering his face once more, capturing your right nipple in his mouth.
He didn’t even wait for the realisation to hit you before he sucked harshly, biting down just shy of painful and making you yelp. The pressure was intense, and he matched the shock to your system by pinching your other nipple between his thumb and finger, sending your back to an arch. You whined at the pleasure as your mouth fell open, sucking in gasps of air to help even out the surprise of his clear experience. Your hands gripped the bedsheets tightly as though you could squeeze out the feeling, but each suck to your nipple sent rolls of heat down to your core, making you squirm and whine. Then, your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping him tightly to keep him from getting too rough. Jimmy moulded into your overwhelmed pushes and subtle pulls, adapting to your comfort level.
Finally, he popped his mouth from your breast, his eyes glinting with an experimental excitement. He hummed as he pressed his mouth to your tit, placing a few sloppy kisses on the wet surface before moving his face to the other one he’d neglected. He licked the side of your boob, blowing on the areola as his stubble tickled your skin. “Yeah, you like that, dollface?” He teased as he nipped your nipple, chuckling when you squeezed his shoulders. He twirled his tongue around the perky bud, blowing on your sensitive swell with a cocky grin. “Slut.”
He popped your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it softly as his hand kneaded your aroused breast. You bit your lip as the pleasure coursed through your veins, rocking your body with his touch. Jimmy bit on your nipple once more, tugging on the delicate bundle of nerves before pulling it between it tight lips and releasing. You hitched your breath at the waves of pleasure, gyrating your hips for a moment before stopping as quickly as you started, turning away with a shy face.
Jimmy slipped his hands down your body and to your hips, firmly keeping you in place as his kisses dwindled down to your pelvis. He dipped his hands to your thighs, the numbed flesh at the mercy of his strength. Had there not been drugs in your system, you likely would’ve tightened your thighs like a vice or even kicked him. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But you weren’t so sure. There was a heat in the pit of your core, one that had grown the longer Jimmy played with your chest. Jimmy pushed your thighs apart, hooking his fingers around the elastic of your waistband. He yanked down your pants until they pooled around your knees, and he propped up your legs to throw them over his shoulders, allowing his head to be right between your thighs, fanning your clothed cunt through your panties.
Your heart skipped a beat when his hot breath hit such a vulnerable spot, a spot no one had access to before. His fingers drummed along the fat of your ass, squeezing the firm globes as his nose nuzzled against your clothed lips. He sniffed, moaning as your scent infiltrated his nostrils and making his eyes roll back. “You smell so fuckin’ good.” He praised, his kiss-swollen lips pressing against your clit. You gasped, chewing your lip to suppress the sounds that Jimmy had already heard. He curled his lips upwards, poking out his tongue to drag slowly up your slit, feeling the fabric soak beneath his muscle. An indication of your arousal.
“Yeah, you like this, don’t you?” He sneered, his cheeks tight from the grin that stretched too wide. His thick finger pressed against the hidden bump of your bud, circling the sensitive bundle before guiding it down to your hole. He pushed slightly, parting your lips around your panties and wetting them further with your slick. Shit, he couldn't hold back anymore. He was desperate: desperate to finally touch you. Desperate to finally bury his face between your thighs and lap at your cunt until you came. Desperate to taste you. He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic stretch of your underwear, tugging the fabric off with a swift snatch, a soft gasp inflating your lungs. The cold was immediate, settling on the cool fluid between your folds and tensing your muscles hastily. You bit your lip as the cold nipped every part of your body, from your bare breasts, curved abdomen and the fat of your thighs.
Jimmy was awestruck, like a kid in a candy store. He was seeing you there for the first time, finally seeing what had been hidden beneath the panties he'd stolen so often. He pried your thighs open wide, pushing them up and flat to give him the best view of your cunt. There you were, laid out like a flower, your folds parting slightly to reveal the small peek of your clit and the slip into your hole.
"You're so gorgeous," Jimmy whispered. He placed two fingers on either side of your lips, spreading your vulva to his gaze. He exhaled a hitched breath, almost bursting at the seams with anticipation. Jimmy gently blew against your slickened making you quiver and instinctively try to close your legs, but he slapped his hands on your inner thighs, keeping you spread. "No, doll," Jimmy warned with a sly grin and crinkled eyes, "just let me have a taste." The tip of his nose grazed the throb of your clit, and you could feel each rumbling vibration from his eager breaths and groans. Then, a sudden, cold blob of spit hit your clit. You arched your back as the saliva trickled down your bedewed slit, his thick fingers catching the blob and gliding it throughout your inner lips. You gasped at the feeling of his digits so comfortably trailing your most vulnerable spot, moistening your pre-lubed folds.
"J-Jimmy," You stuttered, voice lost as when his tongue peeks out from between his cracked lips and darts straight into your hole. You moaned loudly as the muscle slides inside deeply, lapping at each slippery liquid coating your insides. You try to get up to look down at him. However, he lays a hand flat on your tummy, keeping you submissive to him and flickering your wide eyes to everything else in the room that could distract you from the overwhelming euphoria massaging into your body. His tongue is magical, dipping into every crevice of your cunt and dragging through the most pleasurable sections you weren't even aware of. Small drops of your syrup dribbled down the sides of his mouth, his stubble now soaked with your juices. You wriggled as your body weakened to him, gripping his shirt tightly as though that'd prevent any more mind-blowing ecstasy from intruding your brain - but then, his thumb pressed down hard on your clit, rubbing sloppy, rough circles and sending jolts through your system. Instinctively, your fingers curled into his hair, and your back arched as you screamed out a moan.
Jimmy was delving into your cunt like he was possessed. His nose nudged against your clit, his thumb rolling over your small bud as he kept tongue-fucking you until his senses were enveloped by you. Then, his tongue slipped from your cunny to your clit, clasping his lips around it and sucking harshly. You cried, mixed with pleasure that morphed into small hints of pain. Pain that was the most euphoric thing you'd ever felt. Your back arched, arms so weak and shaky that they fell slack, your hands locked into a death grip around the locks of his hair. Jimmy couldn't care less about the burn on his scalp; all he cared about was you. His thumb moved from the hood to the sap trickling from your hole, pulling the delicate flesh from your entrance to better show the mess your hole had become. So wet and glistening. Evidence of your love.
Jimmy glanced up at you, a blush clear on his face and eyes so blown that you could've sworn you saw love hearts for pupils. "Such a pretty pussy," he praised, one of his fingers prodding at your hole. Then, without warning, it slipped inside of you to his knuckle. The sensation was unlike any other - like a burn and kiss at the same time. The sensation made your head tip back into the pillows, profanities flying out of your mouth in an incoherent slur. In an instant, you lifted up your hips, burying Jimmy's face deeper between your thighs until his stubble prickled your skin. He muffled out a surprised groan that made your eyes snap open, immediately lowering your hips just to pull him closer as your thighs clenched around him, his fingers curling at your g-spot and sending your body into convulsions.
"O-oh, my God. Jimmy, I'm-" You could barely speak - barely think. A tightness formed in your womb, and you fluttered your eyes shut, eyes rolling back as the pleasure coursed through you. Jimmy prodded another finger to your core, waiting not even a second before slamming it inside of you, ripping a moan from your throat that fell into a cry. Jimmy's thrusts increased in speed until your fluids were flicking into the air, wetting your thighs and trickling down his wrists. His free hand grabbed one of your asscheeks, arching you up to bury himself deeper into you. He rutted against the bed, his cock now rock hard and desperate to be inside of you. Your eyes rolled as you swirled your fingers in Jimmy's locks. The rope in your womb grew tighter and tighter, each muscle in your body squeezing until they cramped.
Jimmy pulled his face away, his chin soaked with your fluids as he kneeled between your legs. You blinked, whining from the loss of pleasure when your eye caught sight of the massive tent in Jimmy's pants. Holy shit. It was bigger than you'd ever expected, definitely a fair amount of inches that were completely foreign to you. Jimmy climbed on top of you, pressing a kiss to your lips once more, allowing you to taste your flavour on his tongue. He rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone, his hand coming down to tug on his black shorts. "I'm g'na make you feel so fuckin' good, dollface." He breathed, his cock springing from his boxers. The tip was flushed red and angry, pre-cum bubbling from the slit and rolling down his veiny shaft. There was a slight curve that angled to the right, his veins prominent through the girthy length. You stared down, eyes wide as you swallowed down your heart. It was the biggest thing you'd ever seen, and you subconsciously attempted to tighten your thighs despite the numbness buzzing through you.
"J-Jimmy," You began with a warning tone, clearly intimidated. He hushed you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and marking you with more hickeys. "S'ok, baby doll. It won't hurt a bit." He glided the head of his cock up and down your slit, lubricating his dick and wetting you further with his sperm. The head flicked your clit, making you whine with each jolt. He pressed one more kiss to your cheek, lining up his fat cock with your hole. He pushed in a half-inch, barely penetrating you before he pulled back, then he did it again, but this time pushed himself in just a half-inch more. He listened intently to your breaths, pausing with each sharp inhale that passed your perfect lips.
"Heh, I bet Curly never even made it inside, huh?" Jimmy mocked quietly, not to you but to the ghost of Curly's memory. "Too much of a gentleman." Jimmy jerked his length, pumping himself to ease his aching cock that throbbed with desire. He gripped your hips hard, keeping you in place as he lined himself up with your moist slit.
"You ready, doll?" He asked quietly, slipping the tip in just a few centimetres. You didn't say anything at first, your hands clawed into his shoulders to stabilise you. You bit your lip, face falling to the side. "...Mm," You hummed, unsure. Jimmy pushed further inside another inch, making you gasp softly, not out of pain but out of anticipation. He rubbed his cock as he waited, pumping the shaft as he prevented the desperate, primal need to jerk forward and slam himself inside to the hilt. You flickered your eyes up to Jimmy, your pupils glistening as you finally dropped your head in a simple nod. Then, Jimmy rammed into you without a second to waste. You hadn't even had a chance to gasp before he rutted inside of you like a bitch in heat, your head dropping against the pillows as you screamed out. It stung a lot worse than you thought it would, and your voice caught in your throat as you fought your brain for a response. Jimmy immediately stilled inside of you, the fat tip of his cock nestled into the back of your womb, kissing your cervix. His untrimmed pubic hair nipped your clit, his member pulsing inside of your tight cavern. A small trickle of blood coated his shaft and rolled down to dot the white linen of his bed, and you scrunched your nose at the scent, sucking in slow, deep breaths to ease your pain.
"I-it's big," You stuttered out in shock, squeezing around his cock. Jimmy groaned, his hips stuttering a few times before he stilled, struggling to keep himself from pistoling until your cervix bruised. "Fuck, you feel so good, doll. So tight and wet and perfect." Jimmy cooed, his cockhead twitching against the back of your hole. He slipped sloppy kisses up your neck and face, biting his lip to prevent a crashing wave of lust, encouraging him to ram into you. He focused on your deep breaths and slow sighs, your chest kissing with each shaking inhale that inflated your lungs until you were ballooned. Maybe you were buying time with denial, or maybe you were lost in a world of pure bliss. Either way, Jimmy was sure he'd make this the most wonderful thing to ever break you in.
He rocked his hips back until just his tip remained inside. He slid his thumb over your cheek, watching as your eyes fluttered open to look at him, the light glistening off your wet lashes. He gingerly kissed your neck before holding your hips in place and then slamming his cock back into you, hitting your womb with a harsh thrust before continuing to ram into you in an endless stream of sexual stamina. You yelped out as you held him tightly, fresh tears slipping down your face from the combination of strange pleasure and blissful pain. Your legs involuntarily jerked when he hit that special place in the back of your cunt, stars dancing across your eyes with each violently desperate thrust. His pubic hair pinched your clit, small shocks of pain running through your body until you were open-mouthed and drooling.
"Oh, God, Jimmy..." You moaned with a squeaky voice, arching your back as you gripped onto him like he was an anchor in your chaotic sea of euphoria. You rocked with his body, your hips meeting his as he pinned you beneath him, fucking into you so feverishly that the bed creaked and squeaked. You were lost in a sex-drunk haze, eyes rolling back as he kissed your cervix with each violent thrust. You groaned when the tightness returned to your core, wrapping around your nerves and tugging each time his cock slammed at a perfect angle or his untamed hair tongued your clit. His hands began to wander, one squeezing your breast in his hand while the other wrapped around your throat, his grip tightening enough to make you gulp, though not cut off your air.
"Yeah, you fuckin' love it, slut." He spat, pinching your nipple until it stung. You hummed out a low moan, your head swaying. "No..." You rejected, cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of his degradation. Then, you felt it, a sharp, stern slap across your breasts, leaving a burning mark on your flesh. You yelped, voice caught on his tightening hand. "I said you're a fuckin' slut who loves my cock." Jimmy slapped your tits once again, his cock still pistoling into your insides. "Isn't that right, bitch? You're a fucking cock-hungry whore, and you love it." You cried out from the pain, biting your lip with a tremble. You werent, you told yourself. You didn't love this; you didn't love losing your virginity to a crazed stalker like Jimmy. But it did feel good. Fuck, it felt so good that your eyes rolled back when he slammed into your womb once again, tearing a moan from your mouth. "Say it!" Jimmy snapped, spittle flying onto your face. You held onto him tightly and turned your head away.
"I-I love it-" You stammered, losing your voice in between gasps for air. Jimmy tilted his head mockingly. "Love what? Speak up, dolly." He sneered, eyes locked onto your teary ones. When you jerked your head away again, he squeezed your throat until it pulsed, the sudden lack of oxygen sending your face back to his in an instant, and your blown-out pupils met his deranged, shaky ones. "Say you love my cock. Say you love it when I fuck you." He leaned closer, his breath fanning the apple of your cheek. "Say you love me." You sucked in desperate breath after desperate breath, whimpering beneath Jimmy as he ploughed into you, your breasts now tender from the earlier abuse and still groped beneath his rough hands. Everything was so overwhelming, and the tightness in your womb only grew with each moment, leaving you a squirming mess. You held your tongue for a moment, hoping you could muster enough stubbornness to survive the violation of your autonomy, but it was a losing battle. Your clit was twitching, and your breasts were receptive to Jimmy's calloused hands. You could even feel yourself squeezing around Jimmy's cock now, greedily sucking him inside until his cock was nestled into your heat. You were close, close to coming undone and succumbing to arousal, and you gave up your fight as you neared your pique.
"I-I love you," You stammered, your soft voice hidden beneath your squeals and Jimmy's animalistic grunts and groans. His ears perked at your sounds, locking onto you with his undivided attention. "What was that, baby doll?" He smickered, leaning in so close that your noses brushed. You gulped. "I love you, Jimmy." You finally confessed, snapping your face from his as you wriggled with your incoming high. Jimmy's face cracked open in a massive grin, his eyes shaky as sweat rolled down his face and dropped onto your hot skin. He began to laugh, an exhilarated laugh that bounced off the walls and surrounded your close bodies. Then, he picked up his speed, slamming into you over and over again. Your legs twitched helplessly at his mercy as his own body dripped with sweat, his veins pulsing as he gripped you tightly to keep you in place. "Fuck yeah, I fuckin' knew it!" He roared, squeezing your throat tightly as he rammed into your aching womb. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, greedily attacking at whatever he could until your saliva trickled down your face. "I love you, too, baby." Jimmy declared, pushing up both of your legs and pressing them against your chest. "We're made for each other." You screamed as he thrusted into you from a new position, the fresh angle allowing him direct contact into deeper places in your hole. You held onto Jimmy tightly, the knot in your stomach tight with anticipation before, in a sudden flash of white light and bliss, it snapped.
You screamed as your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body rigid and flooding with bliss that resurfaced with each twitch and gasp. Your head fell into the pillows, eyes rolled into the back of your head as your toes curled so tightly they numbed. Jimmy kept pounding into you, staring down with a cackling smile, before his balls clenched and he leaned down to bite into your shoulder so hard that his canines sank into your flesh. He buried himself into the back of your cunt, cum shooting thick ropes into the back of your cervix and flooding your tender womb. You cried at the hot, sticky sensation soaking into your pussy, falling limp beneath Jimmy as he collapsed on top of you, still deep inside. He panted heavily as his own high piqued and slowly vanished, his strength regaining quickly. He licked the bite wound on your flesh, grinning at the sight of his mark before slowly pulling out his softening cock.
"You were amazing, beautiful." He complimented, sloppily kissing your messy mouth as he fell onto his shoulder beside you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Cum trickled down your pussy and thighs, the wet trails of your slick now staining the bed sheets and forever holding the scent of sex. You said nothing, choosing to remain silent as you counted your breaths. Jimmy didn't care, though. He already got what he wanted. You were here, now, beside him, leaking with his cum. In his bed. In his room. You'd confessed you loved him. Shit, he nearly came right there and then when you did. He cupped your cheek gently as he wiped the remains of your tears, pulling you against his hard chest as he did his best to soothe your quick heart.
"I love you so much, dollface," Jimmy grumbled with heavy eyelids. He sniffled in the stale air, now filled with a scent uniquely yours and began to nod off, your shaking, sex-weakened body in his muscular arms that chained you there to him. You were too lost in your own head to speak. Too lost in the what-ifs and the theories of a life where you hadn't ever met Jimmy at all. But you shook your head and sighed. You didn't want to think about that right now, not when he was breathing down your neck. Not when your clit still twitched from the thought of how he'd filled you with his cum. It felt hypocritical. To insult him while equally squeezing your thighs together from the thought of how he'd so ruthlessly fucked you until all you saw were stars. It'd been a long day: a long week. Fuck it, it'd been a long life ever since Jimmy walked into yours. But at least everyone was safe now. At least the problem of Jimmy fell onto your shoulders and no one else's. At least you didn't know how rough the future would be with a man like Jimmy tethered to your side at every waking moment.
At least you could just shut your eyes, fall asleep and reawaken in another world where everything was completely fine.
Holy guacamole, this was approx 26,000 words.
Anyway, hi guys!! I hope you like my Jimmy Zare fanfiction!! I want to fuck this man so badly its genuinely appalling, but I hope you all like this! I'm sorry for Curly, but I do have something in the works to make up for him ;)
If you want any more Mouthwashing fanfics lmk!! I will write for everyone (only platonic Swansea tho).
Btw this is my first fanfiction with a Beta reader!! Tysm girlie ur literally my goddess ilysm. She wanted me to let you all know that you're all "freaky ass bastards" for liking this loll
I love you guys sm and thank you for being patient with me as university starts up once again. Much love and kisses <3
