#like what you expect me ti be alone with my brain in a car in the middle of no where and not fall asleep at the wheel or think about killing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

casicroaks · 6 months

Text

Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 7

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW JERSEY, 1972

The egg sizzled loudly on the pan, almost as loud as the music on the radio. I seasoned it with salt and pepper, pushing the already white edges with the flipper so it didn’t spread over and stick to the frying bacon slabs, before taking a dish from the sink, giving it a quick rinse with hot water, and rubbing it dry with the dishcloth I had tied around my waist to improvise an apron.

“For five long years, I thought you were my man,” I hummed while watching the egg so it didn’t burn. “But I found out, I’m just a link in your chain…”

I turned off the stove, laid two slices of toast on the dish, and put the bacon and the fried egg on top. It would have made a great sandwich if we had some cheddar, but I had forgotten about it at the grocery store… Next time it would be. In the meantime, I added a generous dash of hot sauce on top to compensate for it, hoping the egg yolk was runny enough to give it the color it was needing.

I went into the living room with the dish on my hand, swaying my hips to the chorus. “You told me to leave you alone… My father said, ‘come on home’,” I sang along. “My doctor said ‘take it easy’, oh, but your loving is much too strong…”

Heath was still asleep on the couch, ashes on his chin, mouth wide open and drooling, in a posture that was probably not very comfortable. I gave his leg a little playful kick. He woke up suddenly, blinking and blinded by the sudden bright yellow light of the morning.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He stretched and yawned, scratching his messy brown hair. I left the warm breakfast on the coffee table, kissed his cheek and sat on the floor next to the couch.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah…” he muttered, still kinda groggy. “How ‘bout you?”

“Like a log,” I smiled, hugging my knees. He looked so cute when he was sleepy.

Heath finally noticed the dish in front of him, and gave me a big half-grin. I giggled. He leaned down and kissed me, sweetly, lovingly, and I put my hands on his cheeks, trying to keep him close to me for as long as possible.

Several months had passed since that first kiss we had shared in his car. This was not the first time I stayed overnight at Heath’s place, nor the first time I had fixed breakfast for us. Maybe, apart from the kisses, out of everything that I had the luck to have ever since we became a couple, that was what I liked most: to feel right at home in his house, to work the kitchen as if it were mine, to wake up beside him as if we were already married. Even if some other things about being a girlfriend weren’t like I expected them to be, at least in that aspect I felt more than comfortable. In some other aspects, though…

By then, I had enough experience touching myself to know exactly what I liked, which did make things a lot easier. Besides, I knew Heath liked it when I put on a show for him. In a way, I had to admit, knowing I was the only thing in his mind, seeing myself reflected in his green-hazel eyes –it made it all worth it.

Still, actual sex with him, even as I got more used to it, had barely gotten any better. Most of the time I just felt numb and uneasy, especially when he got on top. Once, I burst out crying, and I didn’t know why (it never hurt that much for me to cry) and Heath kept asking me what was wrong, and I didn’t know, and he kept asking how could I not know, and I kept crying and crying, and he left the bedroom, and I was left alone a sobbing mess on the rumpled sheets, feeling completely unlovable. There was something wrong with me, it seemed. But I knew that, despite whatever I felt, Heath still liked it. When he touched me, even if I didn’t like it very much myself, it did feel like he loved me. So we kept doing it, and I made my best not to lose hope in that, someday, it wouldn’t feel as awkward anymore.

In the meantime, I could kiss him and talk with him and cook for us and stay over, and I never felt alone. I loved him, and he loved me. That was everything I could ask for.

Heath moved away from me, yawning again and rubbing his eyes. I smiled at him, humming the rest of the song, as he sat on the couch and picked up the fork.

“How did you pay all this?” he asked, going straight for the bacon.

“Don’t worry,” I said, resting my chin on his knee. “I used some of my poker money.”

“Oh, right.”

By then I had learned to choose my battles and lose from time to time when gambling, since otherwise I wouldn’t get anyone to play with me –especially when most of Heath’s friends that I had beaten were convinced I was just really good at cheating. If I allowed others to think they stood a chance, I could bet higher sums of money, and they would be none the wiser. That was how my savings increased tenfold, all saved up in a thick roll in a sock that I kept in the spider jar in my bottom drawer for safekeeping.

“I counted it again, just to check Bri hasn’t taken anything… And you know what, Heath? I got quite a bit saved up already.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…” I said, twirling my pigtail. “So, I was thinking, maybe by mid-June we could start packing and properly plan our life in New York…”

Heath frowned. “Our what now?”

“New York!” I repeated with a big smile. “Remember when we talked about it? I’ll try out auditions to be an actress…”

“Ah, right,” he nodded. “I remember you saying you wanted to be an actress…”

“And you said you’d come with me,” I added. “You’ve always wanted to leave Hackensack, like me. Wasn’t your dream to go to New York, too?”

“Sure.”

Heath was so glum lately, he was no fun to be around anymore. I had to wonder if it was something I had done or said, especially since he seemed to be so happy around his friends during those weekly parties.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked him, and held onto his left arm. “Please don’t be mad at me…”

“Do I look mad?” he said. “At this point I thought you knew me, I don’t get mad… I just thought… See, it’s a whole thing, growing up. You know, so many of my friends were shipped off… And with dad sick, it’s like… Like everything’s falling apart somehow.”

I frowned. For me, nothing was falling apart. It seemed to me everything was coming into place.

“And I thought…” He gave a sigh. “You, of all people, might understand how that feels.”

“I do understand—”

“Do you, really?”

I looked away. I wished I could understand. I loved him, and wasn’t that enough? I spent all weekend at his place, every waking hour I wasn’t at home or at school with him. I cooked for us, I cleaned up for us… What more could he want from me?

But I didn’t want to argue. I never wanted to argue with him –I just wanted us to be happy, together, forever. We had been making plans. We had an idea of a future together. And I didn’t want to ruin it by my stupid complaining.

I stood up with a smile. “Hey, darling –you promised you’d teach me to drive shift gear before the end of the week,” I reminded him. “You think I could cash in on that promise now?”

“Sure…” he said, scratching his cheek. “Just gimme a minute, alright? I need a shave.”

I nodded, bouncing a little on the balls of my feet. Heath went into the bathroom with the beaded curtain, and I watched him as he quickly rubbed some water and white soap to get some foam, and spread it hastily over his face. He should have first warmed his face with hot water, I thought. Then again, it was his face, not mine, and I assumed he had done this before enough times to know what he was doing, even if it didn’t quite seem so. He ran the razor so carelessly against his cheek, I just knew he was gonna—

“Agh –dammit…” He had nicked himself. The tiny drop of blood bloomed and colored the white foam around the cut.

“You got to shave in the direction the hair grows,” I told him with a little snicker. “Not all the hair on your face grows the same way.”

He glanced back at me. “How do you know about shaving?”

“My dad explained it to me,” I said simply. Some years ago, he was shaving in the bathroom, and I was fascinated by how he moved the razor along his face, so close and so precisely, without getting a single wound. “His father was a barber. He was supposed to be a barber too, before he and his brothers were drafted to fight the Germans.”

Heath nodded and smiled in amusement. “Would you look at that.”

“Your hair in particular grows sideways and in swirls,” I added, going through the beaded curtain, moving closer to him and pointing to a spot just under his chin. “You need to keep the angle in mind when running the blade against your skin, otherwise you’ll just keep nicking yourself, or irritating the skin.”

“Aren’t you the specialist…” he said, lathering more soap on his cheeks to cover the bloodstain. “Say, would you do it for me? You’re clearly the professional here.”

It was no problem: I had a steady hand, and I took any chance I had to stay close to him. He sat on the toilet and handed me the razor. It was a silly thing, but I felt a little proud that he trusted me enough to let me bring a blade to his beautiful face.

“Roll me a blunt, will you?” he asked, pointing back at the living room. “Before you start.”

I nodded. I already knew where he kept the weed, somewhere where the rest of his friends wouldn’t find it. Another little perk of being his girlfriend.

“Do people drive around in New York?” I asked him, putting the joint in between my teeth, lighting it, and taking a quick hit before handing it to him. “I remember you telling me Dave told you that the traffic in the city is nightmarish…”

“Oof, yeah. I went there last month to help my father out with some dumb paperwork that needed to get done, and…” He snorted a laugh, shaking his shoulders, his eyes squinting from his wide smile. “You know, we needed to be at the office by two, but the streets were so bad we ended up arriving so late, around four—”

“Don’t laugh, sweetface,” I snickered. “Or I’ll end up giving you a matching cut on the other cheek.”

“Alright,” he said, biting his lips. Even with his face covered in soap, sitting on the toilet of his dimly lit, dirty little bathroom, Heath seemed to glow. “But yeah, it’s not easy…”

“’Cause I was wondering… I mean, I’m gonna try to get myself a job too, of course,” I continued. “But what are you gonna do?”

“In New York?”

“Of course that in New York, silly…”

“Something’ll pop up,” he shrugged. “Worst case scenario, I’ll get some gig waiting tables, I guess.”

“Hm… You think that’ll be enough to afford rent in a big city?” I asked him, hoping the worry in my voice wasn’t too obvious.

“Don’t you worry your little head about stuff like that,” he said. “And in any case, we can always come back here, where we still got the house, the auto shop—”

“When I leave with you, Heath, I’m not coming back,” I cut him off, pulling the razor away from his cheek for a moment. “I told you, I haven’t even told my parents about us, and I know they’d throw a fit if they knew we were planning to skip town together—”

“What’s the worst thing they would do if they knew?” he laughed again. “Spank you? Lock you up in your room? Forbid you from watching TV?”

I wiped the soap off the blade on my skirt. He was right, of course. It was stupid to worry about something as meaningless as my mom’s disappointment. Especially when it was something I should have already gotten used to a while ago.

“You put too much weight on what your mother says,” he commented.

“I know…”

“What does it matter what she thinks? It’s not like she owns you or anything,” he said, bringing the joint to his lips. “You’re your own person, not her shadow.”

“I know, I know, it’s just that… I just wish she could understand that I’m trying my best,” I said quietly. “Before Bri was born, I can remember a few times that my mom saw me crying, and that she made an effort to make me stop, beyond just telling me to cut it out. But after she got pregnant again, and after she had my sister… I don’t know, I guess she just became tired of hearing so much crying. Had no patience left in her,” I sighed. For a few years I’ve had this clear memory of her kneeling down and kissing my cheek, wet from tears. Then again, it could have been just a very vivid dream. I can’t even remember why I was weeping in the first place. “Now, if she sees me crying, she gets angry at me. She thinks I do it on purpose. As if I was trying to annoy her.”

Heath remained quiet. I wondered if he had been listening to me. Maybe I was being too chatty. But that was another wonderful thing about him: he never told me to shut up.

“… I don’t know. I guess she just thinks I’m already rotten to the core.”

Sometimes I wondered if my mom hated me, like I often wondered if I hated her. It could be that she just didn’t like having me around. It could be that she just grew tired of me. It might just be that I hadn’t done enough to earn her love.

Whatever the case, the only thing that was clear was that it had been like this for many years, and that I knew that neither me nor my mom would be changing any time soon. I let out another deep sigh. “You’re so lucky you don’t have a mom, Heath—”

Heath turned his head and stared at me. “Kid, you can’t just… Say stuff like that. That’s dark.”

“I –I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright, just… Don’t say that sort of stuff. Geez.”

I mumbled another apology under my breath. He took another drag, while I continued shaving him, running the razor as close to his skin as I could, softly turning my wrist to go through the curves of his face. I knew I could do it quicker, so I could have that driving lesson sooner; but I liked being there, under in the soft warm light, his soft angelic glow becoming fuzzy with the cloud of smoke.

“Um, Heath… Could you please not call me ‘kid’?” I asked him, once I was almost done. “I’d rather you just called me Tiffany… It feels like you think I’m dumb, or something.”

“It’s just a nickname.”

I kept silent, just staring at him, and turned my eyes down to look at my chipped nails, fidgeting with the razor.

“… Alright,” he said, with the smallest of smiles in his voice. “Tiffany it is.”

I smiled, too. “Thank you.” And I kissed him, getting some of the foamy soap on my chin and nose.

Six months had passed, of boring schooldays and great parties and staying over at Heath’s house. After a certain point I managed to balance being at home for dinner, at school for classes, and the rest of the time at Heath’s place. I was the happiest I had been my whole life. But still, there was this feeling that there was something missing… Like everything was picture-perfect, except for one lost piece of the puzzle. I couldn’t see what it was, or where it fit, but I just knew that somewhere there was a little hole, a flaw in what was so close to being heaven.

Just in case, I kept praying at my love altar. I wouldn’t even admit it to myself, but I was afraid, to some level, that as quickly as Heath had turned out to love me back, he might fall out of love with me too.

Sometimes, while I was lying in bed back at home, I liked to think that life could be like this forever. I was already getting used to him touching me, even though I still felt that weird disconnected sensation I couldn’t quite shake off. Heath had called me ‘frigid’ once, as a joke, and I had to pretend I knew what that meant and look it up as soon as I got home. It meant something like cold, like unresponsive. I wished I had known before, so I could deny it. I was never cold, after all. Each time he called me I came, I smiled at him and laughed at his jokes and loved him as much as I could, in the only ways I was familiar with. I was still pretty young. But in my mind time would pass and we would become wiser, and learn how to love each other properly, eventually. For the time being I froze without even understanding why, but someday, I would make Heath truly happy. I smiled and told myself it was proof of how much I loved him. I was willing to be patient and learn. If I didn’t love him, after all, I would have left already.

I tried to spend the weekends with Heath, too, especially since mom had decided that Bri was now old enough to help her around the house, allowing me to slink away and avoid doing the chores. There was this one weekend, though, not very long after Heath’s dad finally died and he was even gloomier than usual, in which mom was sick with something –so the responsibility to make lunch and dinner and do the cleaning fell on me. At least, when I took care of things at Heath’s home, he would smile at me and give me a kiss at the end of the day.

Mom had told me that Bri and I should watch less TV, and that we should play outside or find something else to do with our free time. Obviously, I was far too old to play with my little sister, so in the end I convinced her to help me bake almond cookies. I couldn’t even remember how old I was when my mother taught me the recipe, but I had done it a few times already, and since I was leaving for New York soon, I thought it would be good for Bri to learn how to make them, too. She was too distracted munching on toasted almonds while I was not looking at her, or sucking her fingers to dip them in the powdered sugar jar to lick them off. I told her off many times, but I had to keep in mind that I used to do the same, back when I was her age.

After leaving the dough to rest for a few minutes, Bri and I went out to our badly-kept backyard, hanging the wet clothes on the clothesline. I glanced, out of the corner of my eye, the pink bunny Bri was still allowed to sleep with, hanging from the cord by its ears, and took another drag of my cigarette.

“You smoke a lot,” Bri said.

I scoffed. “You don’t even see me much apart from home.”

Bri stared down at her little dangling legs. “… Can I try?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just a kid.”

“You’re just a kid, too.”

“No, I’m a grown up,” I insisted. “At least, I’m more of a grown up than you.”

Bri pouted… And then she shrugged. “Okay, I didn’t even really want to try it anyways. It probably tastes bad. And I’ve heard that it’s bad for you.”

“Yeah, that’s probably about right.”

“If it’s bad for you, then why do you do it?”

“Because grownups can choose to do things that are bad for them.”

“Huh… When will I be a grown up?”

I gave her a long hard look. Finally, after a moment, I sighed and handed the cigarette to her. She smiled smugly, and took a drag. She immediately coughed and hacked so loudly I feared I had killed her, and that mom would then find out and kill me.

“I thought I’d taste better—”

“Well, now you know,” I said, grabbing the cigarette before she dropped it.

“Why do you smoke that, then?” she asked, still coughing.

“You grow to like it,” I said. “It’s like with everything. After a while you get used to it.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You’ll get it when you’re older,” I told her.

We couldn’t watch TV, and we couldn’t turn on the radio either because mom had a headache… I really wanted to go to Heath’s place, but with our mother bedridden, I couldn’t leave Bri unattended, no matter how much I wanted to. I even considered taking her along with me, before realizing how stupid of an idea it was. She was already a whole snitch, and I didn’t want to give her more material for her to tell mom –especially when I had decided to stop spending money on candy to bribe her with, being more preoccupied with saving my bucks for when I left for New York.

Time passed by, and soon it was around four. Mom liked to have red tea, which was a whole issue since dad never had tea, only nasty burnt-smelling coffee, and that meant mom had to prepare her own kettle and also dad’s coffee pot every morning, which if she did not time properly could mess up the entire morning, leading to another argument between the two about how he would be late for work at the office and about how she was the first one to wake up in the house and that he should be able to iron his own shirts by now. My parents argued a lot less, now; I used to harbor the hope that it was because they were falling in love again, and that they would start being nicer to one another. But, after a while, I think it was just because dad arrived later than usual, and when mom began arguing with him, he just ignored her. Still, that was better than having to bear their yelling at each other late into the night.

“Too much lard,” she remarked, putting a cookie down after giving it a taste. I had brought her a tray with her tea, so my mother had at least something to eat. She hadn’t had breakfast, nor lunch. All she did that day was stay in the darkness of her bedroom, in a thick fog of herbal cigarette smoke. “At least you remembered to toast the almonds first.”

That was as close as she would get to a genuine compliment. I forced a smile, and reached for a cookie –but she moved the dish away from me.

“Don’t,” she said firmly. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

I had made them myself from scratch; I thought I deserved to have one, at least. Never mind, I told myself. I’d pocket two while she slept. Bri herself was probably already gorging herself with the almond cookies, even if they burned her tongue, even if she knew she’d get a stomachache later.

“Did you make your bed?”

“Yes, mom.”

“And hung the clothes to dry?”

I nodded. She frowned.

“Use your words, Tiffany, you’re not mute.”

“Yes, mom.”

She pressed her temples with the tip of her fingers, letting out the quietest, most dignified groan. I thought of all the times I had told my mother I felt sick, too sick to go to school, and she had scoffed it off and told me I was exaggerating, or lying, or was just being lazy.

“Mom… How did you and dad meet?”

Mom shot me a look that was somewhere in between exhaustion and annoyance.

“Well, then… How did he propose to you?” I insisted.

“Why do you need to know?”

I shrugged. “I just… I think it’d be nice to know.”

“Make up a version of it in your head,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “It would be the same as the real thing.”

“Are you angry?”

She let out a deep sigh and had a sip of her tea. “No, Tiffany. I’m just feeling awful. Have a little sympathy.”

I almost apologized. I didn’t, though. I had nothing to apologize for.

“Why did you marry him?”

Mom huffed, putting the teacup down. “Why do you think?”

“… Because you loved him?”

“Sure,” she muttered between gritted teeth. “What’s with all these questions?”

Ever since his father had died, Heath was more detached than ever before. When he kissed me, it was almost out of obligation. It reminded me far too much of the cold cheek kisses my parents exchanged before he left for work.

“Just wondering,” I shrugged again.

“Is there a boy in school bothering you?”

I scoffed. There certainly were, even if they didn’t quite dare to annoy me right on my face. “I… I might be in love.” Me and my mother, we barely ever about this stuff. Now that she was stuck in bed, though, I thought this could be the best chance I would have to get her thoughts on a few things. She was the only person I knew who was married, after all. She surely had some wisdom to pass onto me. “How do you know when you’re in love?”

Mom took a moment to think. “… I’d say you feel it, in your gut. It’s like heaven, and also like you’re being turned inside out.”

“Does love truly last forever?” I asked, leaning forward, quite surprised that she had decided to answer me in the first place. “Like in the songs?”

“If you love someone forever, then it does,” she replied, making a dismissive gesture with her hand.

I thought of that Ronettes song I liked so much, and hummed it to myself, remembering the lyrics. ‘Wonder if he’ll love me forever, and ever…’ I could do that. I loved Heath enough for the both of us. Sometimes, when I looked at him smiling, eating, sleeping, smoking, talking, dancing, it felt as if my heart was gonna burst. I loved him so much, forever might just not be enough.

“As much as it can hurt… Love’s supposed to set you free,” she said thoughtfully, in a puff of smoke. “I know it set me free.”

“Free from what?”

She didn’t reply.

“Did you and Brittany have lunch?”

I nodded, before remembering her previous comment. “Yes. I made sandwiches, and set the chicken out to defrost on the sink, so I can prepare it with some rice for dinner.”

She nodded and sighed, holding her head. “Did Brittany brush her teeth after breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Did she help you with the laundry?”

“Yes,” I said, and smiled to myself. “She saw me smoking, and asked if she could have a smoke, too.”

Mom turned to look at me, her thinly plucked eyebrows raised high. “Oh?”

“She hated it,” I snickered. “She almost threw up.”

Mom laughed quietly. “Your sister can be really clueless sometimes.”

“Right?”

We both laughed with our mouths closed; I saw the tiniest sliver of wet teeth from between my mother’s lips. I didn’t see her smiling very often, but when she did, it really reminded of how I looked myself, when practicing my smiles in the mirror. We were so much alike.

I grinned, thinking of Heath without me that afternoon, asking around whether they had seen me, growing more and more desperate to know where I was. Maybe it was a bit mean of me, not telling him I was not going to be there that evening; then again, maybe it was better to not become too dependent on the other. After all, Heath could manage to fix himself dinner for once.

Next Friday, like most Fridays, I took the bus to the mall; that was when it was most crowded and it was the most fun to people-watch. Usually, I went to the record store first of all and listened to what was new, so I could at least know what Heath’s more music-savvy friends were talking about. After that I had an ice cream, so I wasn’t just wandering around empty-handed while window-shopping. When I was done with it, I would go into a couple of fashion stores, pick everything I liked, and spend an hour or so in the changing room, trying it all, imagining the sort of events I would wear these outfits to. An elegant sundress, to an audition on Broadway; a flower-patterned skirt and blouse set, for a picnic date in Central Park; jeans and a printed top, for a dinner and a movie in the heart of Manhattan, by Heath’s side. These stores tended to give out cheaply-printed, complimentary catalogues that I could take home and use as references to modify the ugly dresses my mother made for me, to make them more fashionable and flattering.

Obviously, I always considered taking something from those stores, the kind of clothes or makeup I couldn’t just replicate for free. A few of Heath’s friends would show off the items they shoplifted, either by being chummy with the security, knowing where they could get away with it, or just by being really good at swiping. Once I asked them to teach me: they told me to start with little things, tubes of lipstick or mascara, which were easy to hide in my bra or my panties, before I eventually moved on to actual garments, which would need for me to bring a coat or a bag to stash them in, which would be a lot more suspicious. Following their advice, I soon got pretty good at smuggling small makeup cases out of stores and into my bedroom drawers. Ever since I began doing it, I could stop worrying about mom finding me stealing her own makeup, which was a real relief.

I did, eventually, get caught once. It was the last time I would go to that particular mall, in the end: I wised up and realized how dumb it had been of me to think they wouldn’t notice anything weird about me passing by every Friday, buying nothing, and then seeing they had a few things missing from their inventory. I did always take only makeup, and in small amount, with just one exception. Only when I got too confident –that was when I got caught.

Really, it was all because, one day, I was at Heath’s place, helping him clean up, since he was still very bummed out by his old man’s death. He was smoking in the living room, like always, watching TV, while I sorted out which clothes of his needed to be washed, and what just needed to be folded up and put in its place. ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’, I told him, like my mother had told me once before. It couldn’t hurt to try. Besides, there was no more food in the house, not even eggs, and he didn’t seem to hear me when I asked him for money for groceries, so finding some loose change in some jeans’ pockets would have been nice too. Picking up old worn socks off the floor, looking for their pairs, I stretched my hand under his bed, grimacing a bit at the amount of dirt and dust that had gathered there. My fingers touched something unusual –it felt like papers, like books. For some reason I assumed it was his old textbooks, from back when he went to school, and wondered to myself if he also used to doodle on the edge of the pages like I did. I took out those papers –but it wasn’t school stuff, they were just porn magazines. I sighed, noticing how dusty my hands were now, and leafed through the pages, hoping to find some dollars hidden between the photos of tits and asses. My attention was caught by one of the girls, though: she had short black hair, eyes narrowed and half closed in pleasure, her lips barely parted in something that was almost a smile. She was stunning. There was a black background behind her that made her skin seem milky white, almost glowing. And she wore (yes, she was wearing something) a lingerie set, lacy and tight-fitting and bright red, which made the red of her mouth and flushed cheeks pop out even more. I spent a while staring at the picture, I’m not sure how long. The noise of gunshots coming from the TV snapped me back to reality, and only then I realized how worn that magazine was, even though it was the newest one in the stash. Heath must have thought that woman was perfect in some way. And then, it dawned on me. More than tidying up his room, what would make him truly happy again was to be with someone like that girl –beautiful, and perfect.

I took off my dress and, angling myself to fit into the little mirror on the wall beside his bed, I made my best to copy the girl’s position and expression. My hair was far too long, but that was just a detail, easy to ignore. What wasn’t so easy to ignore was my dull, basic white underwear, compared to that red set that made her look even more striking. I put my dress back on and thought about my options. I knew my mother didn’t have anything even remotely similar to that, and sewing something like lingerie myself was out of the question. My best choice, I decided, was to take it from the mall. After all, since it was such a small amount of fabric, it had to be easy to hide, right?

Not really. Apparently other girls had thought the same as I did, because a security guard caught me trying to stuff a bright-red bra, the closest one I could find to that of the picture, under my blouse. I had hoped I could have put it on at a changing room, but the lingerie store didn’t have one; so, I had to improvise. And I chose a really bad time to do it.

The guard grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out of the store, through the crowded halls of the mall, and into the small dirty office of the security team. It was like being at the principal’s all over again. I was told to sit in a chair in front of a desk, and expected to tell my version of the story, which would be promptly ignored. A man with a thick moustache asked my name and my parents’. I refused. He kept insisting, but I wouldn’t budge. After what felt like hours, he finally left the office, to be replaced with a younger, probably more patient guard who would take it from where the other left off.

“Listen, this is clearly your first incident…” he said, sighing down at the paper he was staring. “I think we can let you go this time. You just have to promise you’ll never do this again. Got it?”

I held one hand up in an oath, and the other behind my back, crossing my fingers. “I swear. Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“Good,” he said with a little smile. He shot a glance to his wristwatch. “Alright, considering it’s almost eight o’clock, you should probably be on your way.”

I nodded enthusiastically in relief, already about to stand up and leave.

“Though… Listen, you should at least allow us to escort you home. It’s late, and you’re clearly a minor.”

“I’m certainly not,” I frowned.

“Really?” he asked, leaning back on his chair. “What year were you born?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”

“I’m not asking your age, just your year.”

I thought about it for a moment, before realizing that thinking about it for too long made me look even more guilty. “Nineteen… Forty… Five.”

He laughed out loud. “You’re twenty-seven?”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “I know, everyone says I look young for my age.”

He laughed again.

“I’m perfectly able to take the bus!” I insisted.

“Well, a young woman shouldn’t go out so late on her own,” he pointed out. “Are you close to home?”

I wasn’t. I mean, I wasn’t that far away, but the mall was definitely not in any way close to my neighborhood. Besides, the bus stop was a good few miles away from the mall itself, so I would have to walk quite a bit regardless. And who knew how long the bus would take to arrive?

“… Alright,” I grumbled. “I guess you can take me home.”

He smiled and stood up, opening the door for me to leave the office along with him. We got into the car in silence. I told him the general area in which I lived, taking care to not be too specific, and he didn’t ask any further questions, just drove quietly.

“You can leave me just around the corner,” I said once we were close enough. “I can walk from here.”

He slowed down, but didn’t park. I pushed the door to open it –but it was still locked.

“I think you should tell me the address,” he said gently. “So I can drop you there.”

“No, I think you should drop me here.”

“How far are we from your place?” he asked, glancing around the street.

“What’s it to you!?” I said, raising my voice, losing my patience. “Let me out!”

“Just tell me where it is—”

“Fuck you!”

I tried to unlock the doors, but he grabbed my hand –and I threw a punch to his face –he managed to dodge it, just barely, and grabbed my arm even harder. I let out a little cry and pushed my head against him, as hard as I could, and I got to shove him towards the steering wheel and hit his elbow against the car horn, making quite the racket. He groaned and tried to restrain me. I bit his arm, sinking my teeth as deep as I could through his shirtsleeve. It was difficult to move in that tiny car, but I still squirmed and writhed and yelled and screamed as much as I could.

Some neighbors heard the noise, and came out into the street. None got too close, they just stayed by their porch in their pajamas, watching what little they could see through the windshield.

Finally I got to slam my fist against the lock, and stumbled out of the car. A few neighbors went back inside, a couple blinked at me but did nothing else. I rushed through the street, still feeling the strain on my jaw from trying to bite down. Behind me I heard the steps of the security officer’s heavy regulation shoes.

“Hey –stop!”

I got running. And just then, about to cover my face with my arm, embarrassed by the unblinking stare of the neighbors, I saw my mother standing on the sidewalk, curlers in her hair, wrapping herself in her faux-silk nightrobe.

“Tiffany?”

I stopped right on my tracks. The security officer got me and grabbed my arms behind my back. I screamed and went back to writhing and pushing back, but it was too late now. Mom hurried towards us while the neighbors went back inside, surely to watch everything from the anonymity of their windows.

“What on Earth—!?”

“Are you her mother, ma’am?” the officer asked her.

“… Yes, I am.”

“Your daughter was caught shoplifting at the mall, ma’am,” he said. I winced and whined, hanging my head, avoiding my mother’s glare.

“What?”

“She was trying to steal a set of underwear.”

“Mom, I didn’t—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Tiffany.”

I grit my teeth, holding back all the words I wanted to hurl at her. She turned back to the officer.

“Thank you, mister. I’ll take it from here.”

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

And with that he left, and my mother dragged me back into the house.

“… What are you even wearing, Tiffany?”

Only then I realized I was still wearing the top Janey had lent me, one of the few I got to take home and hide in my backpack to wear at school, and to put back out when I had to come back from Heath’s to be home for dinner.

“I cannot believe you really went out dressed like that,” she said in a hiss, finally letting go of my arm, looking at me up and down. “Where on Earth did you get those clothes?”

“My friends lent them to me—”

“You’re clearly hanging with the wrong crowd, then.”

“Mom, please, I got nothing to wear—!”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, Tiffany, and you know that!” she said, raising her voice. “I got you blouses and skirts that actually fit you—”

“But they’re all dull and ugly, mom!” I replied. “All the girls at school have these beautiful blouses and dresses and necklaces and jackets, and I’m the only one who wears these old things!”

“You are so thankless.”

That was it –her usual argument. I was thankless. I was clueless, I was demanding, I was thankless. Wasn’t it her fault, though, that I turned out the way I did?

“I have devoted my entire life to you. To raising you, to feeding you, to dressing you, to keeping you well and healthy,” she continued ranting. “And this is how you thank me? Stealing underwear, of all things? Dressing like a damn floozy, like a cheap slut? Do you want boys to see you as trash? Do you want to be treated like trash, Tiffany?”

“No, of course not—”

“Then why do you do this!? What possible reason could you have to do such a thing!?” she yelled. “Are you so desperate for attention, you’d stoop this low? Have you no goddamn self-respect!?”

My cheeks were burning. “Well… I feel like you don’t pay attention to me.”

“So you admit that is what you’re doing. That all this charade is your own desperate little plea for attention.”

“Well –if you actually loved me, then I might not be doing this… This ‘charade’, or whatever you call it— “

“Who says I don’t love you!?” she cried. “I love you, Tiffany Valentine! You are my own flesh and blood! You are my daughter! And I will love you, no matter how much it hurts me, until my last dying breath! But I expect an ounce of respect in turn! You owe me that same love I give to you!”

I didn’t say nothing to this. It made me angry, to realize how right she was. I was furious at her, and I wanted to call her a cunt and a bitch and a shitty, cruel mother, but I knew that, if I was in her place, I would feel the same. I looked down at the clothes I was wearing, at the little folding of my belly. My mother clothed and fed me. She worried about me. She did love me, and I was stupid for even suggesting she didn’t. And I was ungrateful… But would it kill her to be kinder? A little more patient?

“You are so lucky. You have food on your table, and a roof over your head, and your own allowance…” she said. Mom would only bring out this speech of hers about her own childhood when she was especially angry at me. She knew it made me uncomfortable to hear it. “I had to share bread crumbs with my brothers, I had to work since I was twelve, I had to bear my mother’s bad temper… You have a wonderful life. But you just have to go on, wanting more. You just have to find ways to ruin yourself and your own future.”

My mother began sobbing very quietly. Her eyes became glassy and red, to match the rest of her head.

“I… I worked so hard when I was your age. I did my best at school, I worked my fingers to the bone, and I bore the brunt of everyone around me. I learned to fend for myself. I made myself strong,” she said with a trembling voice. “But then, then I was pregnant with you. And I gave it all up on the spot. I gave up everything I had built for myself, to devote myself to your father –and to you and your sister.”

I knew all that. I knew my mom had it tough growing up. I knew she wished she had it as easy as I had it. I knew she loved me, even if I often forgot. It was hard to remember when it felt like all I did was something she could never be happy with.

“I love you, Tiffany. I really do…” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “… But you make it so hard on me sometimes.”

“It doesn’t seem like you love me, mom,” I replied. I knew she did. I really did. I just wanted her to show it…

She seemed offended. And I guess she was. And, once again, I felt a part of me wanting to apologize, and another part wanting to tell her to fuck off.

“I have loved you your entire life, because you’re my daughter,” she stated coldly. “Because it is my job to love you, as your mother. Just because it doesn’t look like it does on TV doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

Those were her last words on the matter. She glared at me in silence, until I finally hung my head and left to change in my bedroom. After I got in my pajamas, though, and came back clean-faced and barefoot to the dark, empty kitchen, I realized that I was not going to have dinner that night.

Next morning, mom surprised me and Bri by waking us up even earlier than usual, hurrying us to gobble down our breakfasts, and walking us to school. Bri kept bitching about being tired and her feet hurting, begging mom to give her a piggyback ride. Mom, surprisingly, just ignored her. When Bri changed her complaints to demand to know why we weren’t taking the school bus, mom simply said:

“I want to make sure you both get to school on time.”

Which was, obviously, just an excuse. What she really wanted was to watch me and stop me from skipping class. If she didn’t have stuff to do back home, washing the breakfast dishes and fixing dinner and changing the sheets and buying groceries, I was sure she would have stayed by the school gates like a guardian dog.

Back at school, where I had to spend far too many hours of the day locked up in a crowded classroom full of noisy kids and where the teachers’ jabbering became a monotone hum, I really felt like I was bored to the point of torture. My grades had been in freefall for a while now, but that added to the fact that, it seemed, the only solution my teachers and my parents could see was to keep complaining about my lack of effort and yelling about how I was set on ruining my own future, I really had no solution to it. No class could hold my interest for long. Everything was just a constant exercise on apathy. There was a point in which, for every test, I basically flipped a coin on any possible answers. At least, though, I wasn’t called to the principal’s office again. The school was full of deadbeats like me, and I guess they preferred to focus on the whiz kids and the teachers’ pets than wasting time with those that they had given up on.

I think it’s clear now why I was waiting so anxiously for the end of the school day, so I could rush to Heath’s house.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if nothing had changed for me after deciding to keep going to class for fear of expulsion. Not long after I became Heath’s girlfriend, he passed by to pick me up after school so he could take me for a drive. He didn’t do that often, because he had work to do at the auto shop, of course, but still, the few times he did it was an absolute delight to see his beautiful face, his sweet smile, as he leaned against his blue Falcon and waited for me after grueling hours of having to sit still in a stuffy classroom. First time he did, though, it was just as Peggy Buckman and her toadies came out of the school as well, and they saw me kissing Heath and climbing into the passenger’s seat of his car. I still remember their awestruck gaping faces as they stared at us, as Heath revved the car up and drove us away from them. I might have been jealous of Peggy Buckman and her public makeout sessions at some point –she had been the first one of any of us to have a boyfriend –but now it was their turn to be jealous. What was a dumbass like Johnny Curtis worth anyway, compared to a dreamboat like my Heath?

The day after they saw me leaving with him, Peggy, Amy and Lisa officially accepted me in their friend group. I had thought that day would never come. Of course, I knew that if they hadn’t seen me kissing Heath, they would have never even given me the time of day, but I didn’t care. At least I had friends, now. Or so I told myself.

Being friends with Peggy, Amy and Lisa wasn’t the field day I had expected. None of them liked each other very much, and most of what they did was gossip and brag. Me, I didn’t care about the boring lives of our classmates, and I could only brag about Heath and his parties; I didn’t have holidays in Hawaii or a brand-new dress for Christmas. Amy in particular (no doubt because of the nose incident) was always trying to bring me down with side-eyes and snide comments. Lisa was the nicest of the three: she also had an interest in baking and an annoying little sister –two of them, actually. Despite our shared interests, though, we never got to being real friends. At least, not in a way I could recognize as friendship. Maybe they wouldn’t agree, but I did see Janey and a few other girls that went to Heath’s house parties as my friends: true, they were a couple years older than me, and sometimes they treated me in such a way that made it clear that they saw me as a kid… But more often than not, I knew that they liked having me around. I wasn’t sure of that with Lisa, and I was certain I was not liked by Peggy and Amy. At first, I assumed it was just because Peggy and Amy would talk shit about me to Lisa, but as time went on, I had to believe that it wasn’t them –it was me. Lisa was friends with other girls from the class, the sort of girls who didn’t even talk to me, who when I tried to approach them just avoided me. Peggy, Amy and Lisa, at least, were interested in knowing all I had to share about kissing boys, about dancing and dressing and styling our hair like the cool older girls, about what music was in and what was out; these other girls at school, they just thought I was some weirdo.

I thought of what Heath had told me, about me being a handful. Was I too much? I tried being quieter, a little nicer, a little kinder to my classmates. To put myself out there, so to say. It didn’t come easy, especially when I knew that I had quite a reputation already. Tiffany Valentine, the crazy bitch that punched Amy McNab at a garden party. The crazy bitch that kicked Kelly Johnson behind the school. So what if I lost my temper now and again? That didn’t mean I couldn’t be nice and kind.

After the time that Peggy had gotten me to accept her dare, suddenly I wasn’t untouchable anymore. People actually looked my way, they paid attention to me –but not in the way I wanted –not like back at Heath’s place, where I felt seen and appreciated. Here, back at school, it was as if whatever I had done or seemed to be to them before had shifted. People were no longer afraid of me. Did I seem vulnerable, out of a sudden? Was it because I had run away, back then? Did they see a sliver of fear to latch onto? Whatever the case, I missed it when I was feared. At least then they wouldn’t dare to be cruel to me.

Still, I made my best effort at being nice and kind. It hadn’t worked at helping me make any new friends, though.

“Is it true you sucked Darry Cade off?” Lisa asked me at the school’s bathroom, where we stayed every morning for a little while before we had to get to class.

“What?”

“I just found out… Is it true?” she insisted, staring at me through the mirror, leaning forward and lowering her voice, as if it was some terrible secret.

“Of course not,” I frowned. “I’m with Heath.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he would know,” Peggy said, fixing her mascara. Unlike me, Peggy, Lisa and Amy were allowed to buy makeup and to wear it to school. I still had to do mine in the bathroom before class, and wash it off at Heath’s place before getting home –otherwise I risked getting yelled at, and spending another night with an empty stomach. “Right?”

“I don’t care about that,” I said while putting on my lipstick. “Where the hell did you hear that from?” I asked, turning back to look at Lisa.

“My brother said that Cade’s been bragging about it all week. He overheard him from behind the bleachers.”

I closed my hand into a fist, but told myself that I was trying to be nice. Nice girls don’t go around punching people, no matter how much they deserve a good punching.

“Your brother shouldn’t believe all the shit he hears.”

“It’s not particularly hard to believe, though,” Amy said, shooting me a brief glance, with a smirk on the edge of her lips. “Of all the boys in the class, Cade’s obviously your type.”

I grimaced. That wasn’t a compliment. Darry Cade was a known menace: even the teachers were afraid of him. Last year, he was almost expelled from school for good after he set a desk on fire. It had taken his parents paying for the expense and promising they would get special therapy for their son for the school to allow them to keep Darry enrolled. I had a feeling Darry had found a way to avoid going to those therapy sessions, though. If I was pretty friendless, he was probably the least liked boy in the whole school. Even some other bullies, like Peggy, had a bunch of supposed friends to follow them around. Darry was alone. All he could really do was beat up the younger kids, since he knew that he hadn’t a chance looking for trouble with boys bigger and stronger than he was.

But, despite everything, I saw Darry fidgeting in class like I did, scribbling on the pages of his paper-bag bound notebook like I did. If he didn’t feel like pretending to pay attention, he didn’t. He knew he was not going to save his grades from dipping further, so he just did what he felt like doing. I had to respect that. I had to admire his guts. It still bothered me, though, that Amy could see how clearly I related to a loser like Darry Cade.

“He’s not my type, at all,” I replied.

“You don’t fool me, Tiffany. If you weren’t dating that burnout hunk, I’d have bet good money you’d end up with Cade.”

I scoffed. “You’re just pissed because Gary didn’t want to dance with you at your birthday party.”

Peggy and Lisa smiled wide and went ‘ooh!’, and I laughed. Amy just glared at me and pretended she didn’t hear me, now angrily brushing her hair hard over and over. I kept on chuckling, fixing my lipstick, wiping the excess with the tip of my finger. Peggy in particular (since neither Lisa nor Amy had boyfriends yet, though not by a lack of trying) was extremely interested in whatever I could share with her on the topic of boys. She had been in an on-and-off relationship with Johnny Curtis for years now, and they always argued, made up, and broke up again.

“Don’t worry about it so much,” Lisa told Amy. “Boys are all jerks. You’re better off waiting for a decent guy than giving the wrong one any attention.”

“That would be assuming any decent guy’d have any interest in you,” Peggy said with a snicker. I grinned.

“Maybe Gary will get your hints,” I continued, raising my eyebrows with a shrug. “Once you manage to learn how to cover all those splotches you got on your face during your last summer in Hawaii. Don’t you think?”

Peggy stifled a laugh. “Yeah, Amy. You’d probably have better luck with Gary if you’d ask your mom to buy you something to get your skin from acting up. It’s getting really out of hand.”

“But don’t worry,” I smiled. “I can teach you how to apply some foundation. You’d have to get the big jar, though.”

Amy glared at me again, rubbing her cheek. She was the one of us who had gotten the real short stick of the teen acne experience. I was really glad mine wasn’t half as bad as hers.

Biology class was done, finally, and I got to the back of the school, to the shadowed area beside the trashcans of the kitchen, where I could have a moment to be by myself. I knew I should have been with my new friends. I could be on my own at any time. Regardless, as much as I had wanted to have a friend group of my own, I needed some time away from them every once in a while.

My little smoking break was cut short by Johnny Curtis, of all people, approaching me. How did he even know I was there? If the back of the school was the secret area where the cool kids gathered, the hidden section beside the trashcans was the part nobody would even bother to consider a hanging out spot. Amy had said that there were rats there, and she had seen a junkie there once, hiding from the cops, but that last thing sounded kind of unlikely. With all of Hackensack to explore, why would a junkie even think of nesting behind an elementary school?

“Hey, Valentine,” Johnny said, raising his chin, his hands firmly stuck in the pockets of his blue tailored pants.

I huffed. “What do you want?”

“As nice as always,” he grinned. I huffed again.

“As if you were the nicest,” I grumbled. “As if you’d say hello to me out of sheer kindness.”

“Can’t really be kind to someone known to be the bitch of the class.”

I glared at him. For a moment I considered giving him a well-deserved slap, but I thought it over. Not only was he taller and stronger than me, he was a lot higher on the social ladder than I was. “I’m the friend of your girlfriend,” I said. “Doesn’t that make me at least a little deserving of some respect?”

Johnny laughed. “Are you her friend, really? I thought you were just her little project.”

I closed my hand in a fist, but reminded myself that it could end up worse for me than for him. For a lack of swift payback, I had to content myself by thinking of his face hitting the pavement and my saddle shoe stomping on it, over and over, until I could calm down.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what I want,” he said, pulling some bucks out of his pocket and counting them. “Bobby and Gary told me you take twenty for a hand job—”

“What!?”

“And Peggy, you know, she’s super hot, but she’s kind of a prude,” he continued, as if I hadn’t said anything. “She wants to keep it all over the clothes, and it’s not fun anymore. And besides…” He grinned again, staring at me up and down. I felt sick. “She’s something, but you’re something else.”

I was absolutely amazed by even thinking that I could have found Johnny Curtis handsome at some point. Being tall and blonde didn’t begin to make up for the piece of shit he had turned out to be. “Whatever Bobby and Gary told you, that’s a goddamn lie.”

“Why’re you so shy out of a sudden? Everyone knows you’re the school slut—”

“Fuck off,” I said, shoving him to the side and stomping away.

“Alright –ten, just to see your tits, okay?” he insisted, following me and waving two bills, now almost pleading. “Come on, I know for a fact you did that, Peggy told me so.”

My cheeks were burning red. Who the hell did he think I was? Even worse, I considered bartering. After all, ten bucks was not nothing, and if it just meant I had to lift my dress for a couple seconds… But I decided against it. Who the fuck did he think I was, a damn whore?

“I said fuck off!”

Johnny grabbed me from behind and pulled me back into the shadow. “Hey—”

“Get off me, you asshole!”

“Just for a minute—!”

“Eat shit!”

Johnny’s hand suddenly clutched my left tit. I saw red. I tried to elbow him but he was stronger than me, and despite my thrashing and yelling he, pressing his chin on my neck to get a good look down at me, managed to slip his other hand under my dress—

The side of his head was just inches from my own face. I didn’t have to think about it –it came naturally –the only way I could see of breaking free. I opened my mouth and bit down on the soft tender flesh of his ear, and it was Johnny’s turn to scream, but he still didn’t let go. I didn’t give him enough time to even consider it. Biting down even harder, feeling my own lower jaw through the thin gristle, I pulled and ripped a good chunk of his ear off with one quick jerk of my neck. He screamed louder and, finally, let go.

Johnny raised his hand to the right side of his head, screeching and howling like a madman and opening his eyes wide. Soon thin lines of blood were dripping from between his fingers, as he pressed them against what was left of his ear. I stared at it, wanting to see but too startled to even ask, before I remembered I had a piece of someone else’s meat in between my teeth. I spat it out. The ear fell with a splat! on the concrete floor. I gazed at it, then back at Johnny, and licked my lips. Johnny was trembling now, too shaken to keep screaming, staring down at the ear I had torn off him. I wiped the blood off my mouth with the back of my hand, remembering too late that I had probably smeared my lipstick too.

“Don’t you fucking mess with me again,” I managed to blurt out.

I felt powerful again. Hopefully that little stunt would shut up the boys for a good while.

To hell with classes. I wasn’t gonna stay around to have Peggy cursing me out for flirting with her boyfriend, like I knew that fucker would try to spin it. I headed home instead, knowing that mom was out buying groceries that afternoon, and I went straight into the bathroom and got the water running. To get the little bit of blood that had splattered on the front of my dress, I figured the best I could do was to wash it along with myself in the tub. Mom had taught me how to rub out period stains, with soap and a handful of baking soda, for when the monthly curse was too heavy for a quick rinse. First time I had gotten my period, two years ago, while I was touching myself and thinking of Heath, I had noticed it hurt a bit –but I didn’t give it a second thought. When I saw blood on the water, though, I became terrified. Nobody had told me that this could happen. At first I thought I might have hurt myself, digging my fingers in an open wound, as I had been tearing at my own flesh. I spent a while trying to hold back sobs of panic, and wondering whether I should tell my mother or not, while the bathwater grew cold. I finally did, and she had to calm me down and tell me that it was normal, and that I just needed to clean myself up better next time. I was almost sure that Bri hadn’t been there when mom gave me the whole speech. I wondered when it would be her turn, and whether I could get away with telling her that she was rotting from the inside, like I thought I was.

I got into the bathtub and scrubbed my face first, to take all the makeup off. I hadn’t gotten a look at myself in the mirror, so I didn’t know whether or not the blood had dripped to my neck. I wondered if anyone had seen me with blood on my mouth and asked themselves what had happened, if I was alright. Dipping the little bit of fabric of the dress in the water wasn’t gonna cut it. The blood had dried already. Mom might ask, if she saw the dress all drenched at hanging from the clothesline, if I had gotten it dirty with oil or something at the school cafeteria –though I didn’t think she cared that much anymore about what I did with my clothes, at least not half as much as she cared about which clothes I chose to wear.

Thinking of my mother at the grocery store, though, I had an idea. Maybe, after my botched attempt at getting some pretty lingerie to wear for him, it was the next best thing to cheer up my grieving, recently orphaned boyfriend. Heath’s next house party was that Thursday, and I wanted to make something easy to eat, something good with few ingredients that filled the stomachs of a big bunch of hungry people, but that didn’t make too much of a mess.

“He’s the kind of guy that you give your everything, and trust your heart, share all of your love, til death do you part… …” I sang to myself, quietly, wandering through the aisles of the supermarket that Thursday afternoon after school, thinking about what I could prepare for that night’s party at his place. “I wanna be what he wants, when he wants it, and whenever he needs it…”

Lamb skewers was the way to go. By that point I had gotten really good at cooking, even in Heath’s tiny kitchen.

It was still early when I got to Heath’s; only another friend of his had arrived, and they were chatting in the auto shop, so in the meantime I got started with the meal. Firstly, I needed to clean the grill, which was really dirty and clearly hadn’t been used in a long while. Once it was good enough to cook in, I lit a little fire and fanned and blew on it until I was sore; and then I remembered that I had to soak the wooden skewers on water, or otherwise they’d catch fire too. While the fire was crackling and the skewers were soaking, I sliced the meat I had bought with the only knife in the kitchen, a dull and kinda rusty old thing that was as good as a wooden spoon; still, I managed. And, when the fire was ready, I got the skewers ready and put them on top of the grill, and mixed the cumin and chili powder with a fork in a little jar I found in a cabinet. The meat cooked slowly, but it was alright: meanwhile, Heath’s friends arrived and passed by the yard, wanting to see what I was preparing. I was very focused, though, in my task. I couldn’t let it burn, and besides, it had to be seasoned at the right time. I had to wait till it was seared, and then sprinkle the cumin and the chili on top, and then watch it for a little while more till it was ready.

By the time I piled the lamb skewers on the largest dish I could find and made my way to the living room, a crowd had already settled and a dense cloud of smoke was growing bigger and bigger. A couple of Heath’s friends hurried to me and began devouring the meat hungrily, messily, getting spice and grease all over their mouths and noses. I wanted to find a place to set the plate, but everywhere I looked there was someone sitting on, or had a half-empty can of beer. I stayed by the doorway, holding the plate, bopping my head to the music and wondering where Heath was.

“Hey, kid,” Janey greeted me with a tired smile, suddenly appearing by my side.

“Oh –hi…!” I replied, smiling back, until I saw the baby she was carrying. The baby looked at me, and I smiled wider. “… And hello to you too!”

I had heard about Janey having baby, though a lot of the girls would sometimes say stuff that they knew wasn’t true, just for the hell of it. But when a girl shows up with a baby, the safest assumption is that it’s hers. I just knew that the rest of the girls talked about it like she was already dead. And, quite honestly, it felt like it: Janey barely showed up to Heath’s parties. There was a reason, then, for marriage before sex. An actual reason, beyond your run-of-the-will sin and damnation and whatnot.

“What’s their name?”

“Bobby,” she said, bouncing the baby. Just hearing the name made me think of Bobby Farrell and Gary Lamotta and Johnny Curtis and all their damn dirty lies. “Like Jeff’s older brother.”

“Jeff’s the father?” I asked, a bit surprised, trying to focus on the conversation. I knew Janey and him used to date, but it had been a while ago –back when Jeff was still in Jersey.

“Yeah… I’m getting worried, y’know,” she admitted. “He hasn’t written back in so long… I sent him a little picture of Bobby, but I haven’t even heard of him.”

I could barely remember Jeff’s face. He wasn’t very attractive, nor particularly smart or funny. God knew what Janey saw in him. “Have you asked his parents?”

“I’ve tried… But they’re still refusing to talk to me! I don’t ask for anything, I just want to know if they have any news on him…”

I nodded, hopefully sympathetically. My dad insisted on listening to all news about the war during dinner, despite mom’s complaining. Nobody that he knew, as far as I knew, had been recruited. Still he tuned in every night, as if it was his favorite show. I wondered if he wanted to know the death count; after all, he had lost quite a few brothers back during his time as a soldier. I wondered if Jeff might be dead already, lying in some jungle in Vietnam. I wondered if Janey had considered that possibility.

“… I wish I didn’t have to bring Bobby, but… I don’t have anywhere to leave him, and my parents… It’s a whole deal,” she sighed. Indeed, Janey looked pretty damn tired. “I really need a smoke.”

“I don’t have one… Want to switch, though?” I asked her with a little shrug, offering her the plate of lamb skewers. She chuckled and, while she grabbed the dish, I held Bobby for a moment, bouncing him like Janey had done.

And Janey was hungry: she immediately got to gobbling down one of the skewers, smacking her lips and clicking her tongue. “Ah, it’s spicy… Hey, it seems like Bobby likes you!” Janey said with a smile. Bobby turned to his mother, then to me, and laughed a big toothless grin.

“He’s such a cutie,” I said, giving him a kiss on his chubby cheek.

“You know, nobody wants to talk to me anymore, now that I got Bobby to take care of,” she said with her mouth full. “And the few girls that do are always telling me how tired and sad I look… But I’m not sad! I’m just… It’s just that things are hard, you know?”

I nodded. Bobby imitated me, nodding while shoving his fat little baby hand in his drooly mouth.

“You see, kid…” Janey quickly took a cigarette out of her jean pocket and put it between her greasy lips, and, balancing the plate in one hand, lit her cigarette with a little lighter she had hidden in her other fist. “You see, you just can’t trust a guy… You can’t trust a guy unless he’s committed. Commitment, it’s not just a pretty word. ‘Cause guys see a chance to dip and they always take it, no matter how much you think they might love you.”

She kept smoking with a bitter expression on her face, biting down on the filter, looking away. I had noticed she had been eyeing Pete lately, but giving her situation, I didn’t think she would really dare to make a move.

Someone put on a new record, and a new song started. It wasn’t my favorite Aretha Franklin album, but it had a couple of really good songs. And I’m not usually the biggest fan of slow ballads, but there was something about her voice that was so tender and loving, it made me feel all warm inside. It was like the choir songs at church. It was hopeful, and majestic, all the while it was like it talked to you and you alone…

“To make you laugh, I would be a fool for you… Although the people turn and stare, I really don’t care…”

“I know I can trust Heath,” I said with a smile, turning to Bobby, moving him as if he was dancing along to the music with me. “He loves me so much, it’s almost funny… We’ve already been discussing leaving Jersey, moving to New York… We’re just waiting until he has enough money saved so we can start a new life there, together.”

Janey stared at me with wide open eyes. There was a moment of silence –and she burst out laughing, so loud that a couple people glanced at us with a puzzled look, and even Bobby was so confused he started to cry out.

“Oh –sorry, baby… Come, come here,” she said, and she handed me back the dish, and held her son again, bouncing him again, a bit faster this time. It didn’t seem to change a thing. “It’s alright, baby, it’s alright…”

“What’s so funny?” I asked her. I could feel the heat of where she had held the dish.

“It’s just that… Kid, don’t you know?” she chuckled. “Look, I love Heath, but he’s… Well, he’s a player!”

I frowned. “A player of what?”

“A serial romancer. A libertine, a bed-hopper, a rolling stone,” she insisted, trying her hardest to stop herself from grinning. “A whoremonger… Tiffany, please, he’s been with almost all the girls in the room, including me! Don’t you know?”

I blinked. “What?”

“We dated last year, before I got with Jeff… Just a month or so, but—”

“What? No…”

Janey sighed and reached out to touch my hair. “I’m sorry, kid, but I thought you knew… It’s public knowledge—”

I moved away from her hand. Baby Bobby began crying again. I didn’t want to talk to Janey anymore. There had to be somewhere I could leave the plate, I thought, looking around, when actually what I wanted was to find Heath, and smile at him and offer him what I had cooked for him, and for him to give me a kiss…

There, next to the turntable, beyond the crowd that danced and smoked, were Heath and Dee, dancing slow and close to each other. He was saying something into her ear.

“Oh me, oh my, I am a fool for ya, baby… Oh me, oh my, you know that I’m crazy, baby, yes you do—”

I walked towards them, and called his name, but I guess he couldn’t hear me, since he was standing so close to the music. I was about to call him again, louder, when I saw it happen. He put his hand on her back to pull her closer and she smiled, looking up at him like I did, closing her eyes like I did, circling his back with her arm while holding a cigarette between her fingers just like I did, and they kissed…

It was as if something broke inside me. My heart, maybe, but it felt higher –like something in my throat –like a bad taste that lingered in the bottom of my tongue. I was in shock for a couple seconds, but soon enough I found my voice, and I ran to him and yelled, I screamed and cried and cried and cried… Some girl grabbed me and tried to pull me away, but I thrashed and elbowed myself free and continued pummeling Heath as best as I could. He was taller and stronger, though, and I barely managed to hurt him, if at all, no matter how much I tried… He held my wrists and shook me to make me stop, and I was finally so heartbroken (then I really felt it, like a hole in my chest, something ripping and being pulled apart like a growing tear in my dress), and it all felt so senseless, that I just fell to my knees and cried my eyes out. I felt like such a child, in the middle of those cooler kids, whimpering and weeping like a damn baby. But how else could I react? Even when he was distant and cold, when he didn’t seem to want to talk to anybody, Heath still welcomed me with a smile and a kiss. How was I even supposed to know that he could be so unfaithful?

“I hate you!” I managed to blubber, at the top of my lungs, my eyes all blurry from the tears. “I fucking hate you!”

And with those last words I ran away from Heath’s place, stumbling and sobbing my way out of the house, out of the garage and into the street, all the way back to my home.

I’m not an idiot. I knew that sometimes people cheated on their partners. Of course I knew that, even if I still did not know whether my father was really cheating on my mother or not. I watched TV, I went to the movies from time to time, I read those little novels Janey lent me. I knew it was something that could happen; I just thought it would never happen to us. After all, Heath and I were so in love, it still seemed impossible to me that he could ever want anyone else.

I had one of those romance novels on my bedside table right then, ‘Secrets of an Accidental Duchess’, by Jennifer Haymore. I picked it up and desperately leafed through it, trying to find the scene in which the Duke admitted his wrongdoings to the wife he had married through an arrangement done by way of a bet with his crummy friends. How had the Duchess solved her own infidelity problem? I skimmed through the paragraphs till I found the conversation I was looking for.

The Duchess simply forgave him, kissed him, and declared she would always love him. I groaned and tossed the book out the window.

Ever since I began dating Heath, in my efforts to be more mature and to show myself that I wasn’t like bratty little Bri anymore, I had sworn off my toys and left my teddy bear and my few dolls on the shelf. But now, though, with how lonely I felt… What else could I do? I stood on my toes and managed to pull my teddy down. He wasn’t too dusty, all things considered. Definitely not enough to stop me from snuggling him, rubbing my tear-stained face against his soft belly, and hiding from the world with him under my bedsheets. I didn’t care about anything anymore. If the day of reckoning came right then and there, I couldn’t give less of a shit. All I wanted was to be left alone.

Obviously, I just had to think about how much I wanted to be alone for Bri to show up.

“Tiffy?”

“Go away, weirdo…” I whined, covering myself further with my sheets before she could see me hugging my teddy bear.

“It’s my room, too,” she replied.

I heard Bri walking up to me, her naked feet pitter-pattering on the wooden boards of the floor, and felt the mattress sinking when she sat on it next to me. I was too tired from crying to kick her off the bed. We remained silent for a few minutes.

“… What the hell do you want?” I finally asked her.

“You’re crying… I just thought you could use some company,” she said. I heard her, muffled but clearly, from the other side of the sheet. “When mom’s sad, she wants me to stay by her side.”

I blinked. I definitely didn’t know that. “Why’s mom sad?”

Bri hesitated before answering. “… I think she’s just a bit tired sometimes. Between managing the household money and the expenses, and doing all the chores, and with the things people say to her—”

I pulled the sheet away to look directly at my sister. “What do people say to her?”

Bri rubbed her nose and looked away. “Um… Things, I don’t know. Well… Really, she doesn’t want me to repeat them. She made me swear on it. But people sometimes call her things on the street, at the store… Have you never noticed?”

It had been a while since I had gone grocery shopping with her. Bri was the one mom was now dragging along with her, anyways.

“Is she sad because of dad?” I asked her, sitting on my bed.

“I don’t know,” Bri shrugged. “She doesn’t like talking about him. She doesn’t like answering my questions.”

I scoffed. I knew that much.

“Mom and dad aren’t gonna split, are they?” she asked, looking up at me.

“No… I don’t think so,” I replied. “After all, what would even happen to us if they split?”

“That’s what I was wondering…”

“Like mom said… ‘He’s the one who keeps the lights on.’”

Bri nodded. I kept staring at her. She was so much prettier than me, pretty enough not to need to wear any makeup. It just wasn’t fair. Then again, life was just not fair. That night had ended up confirming what I had always known.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, do you, Bri?”

“No, not yet.”

“Good. Don’t have one,” I sniffed, wiping my runny nose. “Being in love is so difficult… So much more difficult than I thought. And it hurts so much… I didn’t even know it could hurt.”

There was a silence. Quietly, slowly, Bri leaned her head against my shoulder. I allowed it.

“I wish it didn’t hurt,” she muttered.

The next days were spent in a miserable daze. I didn’t want to eat at all, skipping breakfast and lunch, until I felt my stomach growling and rumbling and pushing me to raid the fridge for the previous day’s leftovers. When I passed by Heath’s auto shop I walked faster, forcing me to keep my eyes on the ground, just in case he was out and about and I was forced to look at him or, God forbid, actually talk to him. I thought about him almost all day, and when I managed to turn my thoughts elsewhere, it was only to how pathetic I was and how nobody would ever love me.

I had to wonder, was it because I wasn’t fully there during sex? Did I not love him like he wanted me to? Did he end up replacing me with Dee because, in some way, she had something I did not have and that he was needing? I was told I looked mature for my age, and I believed it. Looking the part was not enough.

Apart from just wanting to be left alone in my misery, I had to finally accept that I really had no true friends. Janey and the other girls at Heath’s parties were a world away, once I avoided going to his place. And I couldn’t tell Peggy, Amy and Lisa about what happened; I knew none of them would extend a sympathetic arm to me. At best they’d tell me they were sorry and then change the subject; at worst, they’d ask why he cheated on me, and how I didn’t see the warning signs before. It was as if living underwater, with my head sinking lower and lower in the bathtub water. Words became mangled, and everything looked deformed and strange. Dad still came back from work every day to listen to the news on the radio, and mom prepared breakfast and dinner and washed the sink and chopped the vegetables and watched that the rice didn’t burn, and Bri babbled on and on about her day at school and how she did in her exams, and what her friends were up to, as if I wasn’t coming apart and having to excuse myself from the dinner table to run to the bathroom and cry my heart out. In the end, Bri, despite being bullied by Kelly Johnson, still had good friends. Still had good grades. She was probably the best version of herself. She was even gonna be the better version of me. When she became fourteen like me, she’d get some wonderful boyfriend who’d think she was sweet, and beautiful, and heaven-sent, and he’d never even think of cheating on her. She’d be mom and dad’s pride. She’d graduate top of the class, be homecoming queen, and her life would go on as it was expected of her. She’d marry, and have a lovely house, and lovely children. I could see it all so clearly, it was as if it had already happened. Now, if I thought about my own future, I could only see a blur.

“I’d also love to do nothing but stay in bed all day,” mom huffed every morning, before pulling me out of my room. “You’re not sick, you’re not dying, so you better get going or you’ll miss the bus.”

I hadn’t realized til Bri mentioned it, but it was true that mom was getting tired more frequently, now often complaining she had had ‘an awful day’, like dad would say when he came home from work, to avoid any requests or even to get us to shut up when we were, in her words, ‘making too much damn noise’. Even if Bri hadn’t mentioned it to me, I would have ended up realizing it, though. Mom never told Bri to shut up –she only ever told me.

“God, Tiffany –dour much?” Peggy asked me at the school bathroom, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Hey –Earth to Valentine! Are you even here?”

“Yeah, I’m here…”

Now that Heath had cheated on me, Peggy’s constant fawning over her boyfriend was unbearable. I knew that if she had a botched nose surgery like Amy McNab, or if she didn’t have her long soft blonde hair and pretty blue doe eyes, nobody would give a shit about her. It seemed Johnny hadn’t told her about his little stunt at the back of the school, and by what I could make out he had been telling everyone he had been mugged on his way back home and that he had been cut his ear off for refusing to hand over his allowance. I don’t know who really believed it, but everyone in class had decided to not question his story.

Weekend came around. Just one week, but it had felt like ten years had passed me by, and now I had turned sad old woman, religiously looking away when I passed by the auto shop. I realized I could not keep on like this, crying myself to sleep and thinking of everything I should have done instead. My mother was getting sick of my whiny exaggerated dramatics, my few friends were growing tired of me stumbling around like a zombie, and it really did feel like I was swinging violently between pure numbness and brutal emotion. I couldn’t go on like that.

I had to face the issue head on. I had to go to the house and talk to him. I couldn’t really expect for him to show up at my porch with a flower bouquet and asking me to forgive him. No, I had to be the bigger person.

“Heath?” I called.

The door was open, like always. I walked in. The place was a mess, even more of a mess than usual. There were empty bottles everywhere, even some broken glass. The turntable was still spinning a record that had ended a while ago. I turned it off. I thought of turning the radio on, at least to fill that unnerving silence, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Heath?”

What I was even doing there? I hated myself for it. Why did I still love him, when he clearly didn’t give a damn about me? Why did I decide to hurt myself like that? I guess I just couldn’t help myself. Maybe I just felt too much, I was still too in love with him to simply be able to forget and move on.

I finally found him hidden away in the overgrown backyard, surrounded by the lush greenery, lying on a folding chair, with a joint almost completely burnt out between his fingers. I almost thought he was asleep. His gorgeous green eyes were staring at nothing.

“Hey, Heath…”

Startled, Heath turned to look up at me, and gave me a half-smile. “Hey, kid… Tiffany,” he corrected himself. “Long time no see.”

“Just a week or so,” I said with a little shrug. His comment echoed in my mind. Did he mean that this week felt longer? Did he really feel my absence? Did he miss me? I hoped so. I hoped he felt as lonely as I did without him.

“We were wondering where you’d gone.”

I kept quiet. Maybe I was just exaggerating, like mom said. Surely Heath still loved me. You can’t go so long spending so much time with someone without having some affection for them. Even if it wasn’t enough to keep him from cheating, I knew that he had to love me, at least a little bit. Besides, if my parents could still stay together even after mom had the strong suspicions dad had been unfaithful, surely, I could do the same –as shameful as it was.

“How’ve you been?” I asked him, fidgeting with my nails.

“Good, good…” he said, absentmindedly, dragging his words. “Finally finished the paperwork of… You know, the whole—”

“Your father’s death?”

Heath pursed his lips. He seemed like he was feeling sick. “Yeah.”

There was a silence. I waited for him to apologize, or to at least acknowledge that he had kissed Dee at the last party, in front of everyone, in front of me. I was not going to bring it up –Heath had to know that was why I was angry. Then again, he probably knew I didn’t care enough about it so as to not come back to him.

He stood up and went back inside. I followed. It was as if he was an astronaut who had just landed back to Earth. My very own space cadet. I giggled quietly, watching him curse and kick the bottles on his way to the bathroom. He had a piss while I waited patiently outside the beaded curtain.

“Dee told me that I look kinda scruffy with this stubble… What d’you think?” he asked out loud at his own reflection in the little cracked mirror. “I mean, I don’t really give a damn, but… I don’t know. I don’t want to end up looking like Santa Claus here, you know.”

“I think I like you better without stubble,” I said. “You look much more handsome that way.”

Heath turned around and looked at me as if he had just then fully realized I was there. “Hm. Yeah, Dee was right.”

I swallowed my annoyance at him mentioning her name twice already. Regardless, I told myself that it was because of me that he had made the choice. He took another deep drag of his joint, grabbing the straight razor and the can with shaving soap from the bassinet and coming out to the back of the house to sit on the folding chair. I followed him again, wondering why he didn’t stay in the bathroom to do it. He dipped his hand in the can and was about to slather it on his cheeks, when he stopped, blinked a few times, and snickered.

“Shit, I’m too high… Can you do it for me, Tiffany?” he said, handing me the razor and the can with a slippery hand. “Thanks.”

I picked some of the soap with my left hand and carefully slathered it on his chin, his jaw, his cheeks… He really was the most handsome man I had ever met. I gave him a quick kiss and looked at him in the eyes before bringing out the razor, wondering if he ever wanted to kiss me back. If he would ever look at me with as much love as I looked at him. But there didn’t seem to be anything behind those eyes.

He was not going to apologize. For a second I considered breaking up with him. I could do that, right? The relationship wasn’t instantly destroyed just because one cheated on the other. We could still fix it… But maybe he was just trying to prepare me for the inevitable breakup. In that case, wouldn’t it be better if I did it myself, just to save myself the heartbreak? Heath knew me so well. He knew what would hurt me the most. If he got angry at last, if he got mad at me…

“Hey, Heath… I, uh, I was thinking…” He kept quiet. Maybe he was too far off to listen to anything I was saying… But I told myself I had to talk about this with him, and it was better I did it sooner than later. “We’ve been together for, like, almost ten months now, right?”

Heath frowned at this, a confirmation he was actually listening. “Huh. That’s a good bit more than what I thought…”

“Time flies, right?” I chuckled. “So, well, I was thinking… Heath, sweetface, you must know that I love you.”

Heath looked up at me and gave me another half-smile. I smiled too. A half-smile was better than none.

“And so, I wondered… I mean, I know you might end up messing around with other girls from time to time,” I continued. “And –I promise, I don’t mind… But I think it’s very telling that I know you’d always come back to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’re a gas, Tiffany,” he said. “And you cook like the gods.”

I giggled again, flattered. “Yes, well… But do you love me?”

Heath took a deep breath. “Do we really need to talk about it now?”

I wiped the razor against my skirt. “When, if not now? I just want to know how you feel about me.”

“Listen, Tiffany, you’re alright,” he said with a chuckle, patting my leg. “You’re a great kid. But you got this crazy imagination… What does it matter, how I feel about you?”

“It matters,” I frowned. “It matters a lot to me.”

“Yeah… Well, I don’t know, Tiffany. I mean, it’s not like we’re gonna get married or anything. We’re just messing around. Just having fun.”

I took a moment to process his words. “Just having fun?”

“Yeah. So, like… Don’t expect a commitment from me, or anything,” he said, tensing his jaw, squirming in the chair. “I thought that much was obvious. I really don’t know where you got the idea that this was anything more.”

“… Oh…”

Heath smiled a bit wider. “It’s fine. Just… Keep your expectations realistic, you know?”

I forced a smile and nodded. But I could feel the anger boiling up.

“… I see what you mean,” I told him, I told myself. “I-I mean, I clearly… I clearly made this whole thing up in my head that you never even thought about—”

He brought the joint to his lips and took a drag. He didn’t seem to be listening to me anymore, if he had ever listened to me in the first place.

“… But you’re right,” I said, now fully to myself, trying to convince myself of it. “Got to keep my expectations realistic. Otherwise…”

Heath blew a cloud of smoke. It remained over our heads for a moment, in which it looked just like the clouds in the sky, before swirling and vanishing in thin air.

“… Otherwise, I guess I’m just setting myself up for disappointment.”

The blade moved smoothly from his chin to just under his ear. I thought of how many times I had kissed him there, kissed his whole face, practically begging for him to kiss me back. Always hungry for it. And he, he had become fickle with his affection. Sometimes he grabbed me and held me so tight I felt we could never be apart. Other times, it felt like he was a world away. I held the razor very still against his skin. Was that normal? That distance we felt? Was that something we could ever overcome?

Would he ever love me like I loved him?

I grit my teeth. Clearly not. We were just having fun. Just messing around. I was the crazy one, imagining things.

I turned the blade of the razor inwards, slightly askew, just enough to begin to cut. I think he was high enough that he didn’t even feel it at first. Watching closely, I moved my wrist as if it were a paintbrush, drawing a red line from under his ear down to where his Adam’s apple was. Somewhere in the middle of this Heath opened his eyes wide, now feeling it, as the first drops of blood trickled down. I was still going quite delicately, barely scratching his tanned skin. Heath gave two quick, small, nervous breaths as he realized, before opening his mouth –ruining my drawing –and let out a brief scream—

That I cut short by sinking the razor in the middle of his throat, with the kind of blunt force I had used for Peggy Buckman and Kelly Johnson and Johnny Curtis –only that this time I was armed. And it was a completely different feel, to have such an effective little tool in my hand.

After cutting deep, he couldn’t utter a sound. His gorgeous green-hazel eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. His mouth remained open but silent. When I pushed the razor just a little bit deeper the blood began gushing out, soaking the razor, soaking my hand. I hadn’t seen so much fresh oozing blood like this before. It was thicker and warmer than what I could have expected, much more different than that of a nosebleed or a fallen baby tooth. This felt like the real deal. The sort of stuff that kept bodies moving.

Heath made a funny gurgling sound while I pulled the razor carefully out of his throat and went on up to continue the line, curving now back up to finish under the other ear. The more he tried to say something, the more blood came out. I giggled, quite impressed with myself, as I took a step back to admire it all. His hands were trembling and shaking. His legs convulsed and his hips moved like he was trying to get himself off the folding chair. But he couldn’t move any further than that. Blood kept pouring down his white tank top, down, down to his belt buckle.

All the while I still held the razor up in my hand. The blood dripped down my arm as well. Fascinating as Heath’s death was, I found myself turning to the razor, to this ordinary thing I had handled so many times before and which now had helped me kill a man. I was in awe, really. And probably more than a bit shocked at myself. I turned the razor around, watching the few silver spots where it wasn’t blood-soaked, reflecting the midday sun. In the light, clinging to the metal, the deep red stains looked like gems, like stunning expensive rubies. Blood went down to my elbows now. I gave thanks for having worn a short-sleeve blouse that day.

And then Heath stopped moving. His body went limp. His arms finally hung lifeless from the sides of the folding chair, his legs stretched in front of him, his head turned slightly to the side. His eyes were wide open. I remember thinking that was weird. For some reason I always thought people closed their eyes before dying.

My heart was beating so quickly, I could feel it pounding in my throat, trying to slip out of my body. I took a deep breath and exhaled. That felt good. Like I had gotten something off my chest. Something stronger than relief –a feeling of freedom. I had loved Heath, but now that he was dead, that I had killed him –I was free from the weight of that love. I had set us both free.

But most of all, I felt like this made me realize that, after all, this might not be true love. I had felt enamored by him… And yet, as Heath’s body kept bleeding out in the folding chair, his green eyes staring blindly at me, I felt none of that love. He was still handsome as hell, that was undeniable. But I felt no grief, not anymore. No pity at all. Only the typical fascination of watching fresh roadkill. It was as if he wasn’t the man I had been madly, hopelessly in love with for the last few years.

Well… He wasn’t. Not anymore.

Alright, I’ll admit it. I was a late bloomer. I didn’t actually make my first kill till I was fourteen…

But I think I did a pretty good job, all things considered.

No cops came to my house wanting to interrogate me about what I was doing that morning. Life went on as usual. The days after Heath’s murder, I was half expecting to feel bad for not having him with me anymore. I didn’t feel bad at all, though; I felt better than ever. Happier, for once. Free, like mom had said love would make me feel. Nobody knew what had happened, but I did, and suddenly I didn’t feel like everyone else’s chew toy.

Most importantly, I knew now that, despite being the family’s disappointment, I could do anything I wanted. There was nothing standing in my way. If I wanted, I could run away to New York myself, without Heath, and start anew. I could be anyone I wanted to be.

Once the idea had settled in my mind, I gave it a lot of thought, between my daily daydreams during class. It was entirely possible: I had my poker money, and I could take the bus. There was the possibility of stealing dad’s car, but that would be too much of a hassle. Back at home, smoking a cigarette while soaking in the bathtub, I mentally went over how much food I would need for a week, more or less the time I assumed it would take me to get settled in the city, find a place to stay and a job to work. I could manage, I was used to skipping dinner every once in a while. Swirling my hand around the floating strands of black hair, smiling wide before dipping my head under the water, I thought: I could really do it.

So I began planning. I was anxious to just leave already, but I had to plan it properly. I should take a bus during the night, so the next day my parents could assume I just had left earlier to stay at a friend’s house, the excuse I had blurted before when I spent the night at Heath’s. Besides, if I arrived early at New York, that meant I had more hours in the day to find a good place to sleep, a hotel or something. Apart from all these practical thoughts, though, I returned to my old fantasies of visiting the famous tourist spots of the Big Apple: Broadway and its shining lights, the fairytale forest that was Central Park, the Empire State Building and the ferry going to the Statue of Liberty, Little Italy and Chinatown… All of those places, I would be visiting alone. But I’d find someone, I reassured myself. There were so many people in New York, I’d find someone who would truly understand me, someone who could love me like Heath could not.

And, beyond all of these happy thoughts that put a goofy little smile in my lips while I dozed off at school and at the kitchen table, I always came back to the feeling of exhilarated triumph I got from pulling the blade from under Heath’s head. I remembered the warmth of his body and of the blood, the way it gushed as if it had been wanting so hard to be released from his veins, how his body shook and jerked as he died. I had shivers just thinking about it.

A couple days after killing Heath, deep in these thoughts, on my way back home from school after having a little ice cream treat and watching the toy store’s display one last time, before I kissed Hackensack goodbye, Darry called me and took me out of my fantasies.

“Hey, Tiffany!”

I turned around, even when I knew that I should just ignore him. He walked up to me, all badly chopped hair, dirty t-shirt and hand-me-down pants. It was a sunny day, and he had to shield his eyes with his hand, blinking and squinting to get a good look at me.

“Wanna see something cool?” he asked.

I looked at him up and down. “I don’t think your dick’s part of that category.”

He laughed. “No, I mean something really cool.”

Goddammit, I thought, my curiosity was piqued. I sighed and, with my hand inside my backpack and grabbing a pencil, ready to stab Darry in the neck with it if he tried anything, I followed him. We walked through the old stores and familiar sights in silence, passing by neighbors’ homes, barking dogs and children playing on the street, until we arrived to the area of abandoned houses, a little meadow of reclaimed nature in the middle of a sleepy Jersey suburb. I was surprised to know that Darry even knew of the place. All the times I’ve been there, I had never seen another living soul: maybe a squirrel, maybe a rat; a couple times, a few younger children trying to play ball in a forgotten spot that didn’t allow anything but exploration and shelter. Never another kid my age. I picked a couple wildflowers as I walked a few feet behind him, eyeing different sized and shaped rocks in our path in case I needed to bust Darry’s head open, in case he knew something he shouldn’t. I was nervous and anxious to leave Hackensack: the last thing I needed was another Johnny Curtis-like incident, or a surprise witness that could try to blackmail me into keeping his mouth shut.

But in the end it was nothing of the sort. We stopped at what used to be the front yard of a smaller house, its windows all smashed, pieces of debris all scattered around and covered in leaves of the wild overgrown trees. He grinned a crooked-toothed smile and pointed at a furry little thing in the ground.

“A raccoon?”

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing a broken branch and poking its eye like he wanted to squeeze it out of its head. “It’s been dead for three days or so.”

I gave it a little kick to roll it over back on its belly. A bunch of ants crawled out from under its back, a few of them still clinging to its pelt. I turned my head to the side. Just out of curiosity, I raised my foot and leaned it against the raccoon’s squishy body. I pressed down, slowly, until there was a soft crack! of the bones, and it began to leak some sort of weird juice, not quite red enough to be blood. I looked up at Darry, curious about what his reaction would be. He kept staring at it, with an unreadable expression. I stepped away and wiped the sole of my saddle shoe against a tree trunk. He crouched and kept poking at the mangled body of the raccoon, now turning the guts that were peeking out of its swollen torso.

I sat on a piece of rubble, smoking my cigarette, wondering how Darry had even come across the raccoon. I wondered if he had killed it himself. Now that it laid all squelched like a bug, I had no way of properly figuring out how it had died.

“You got a light?” he asked me.

I shot him an unimpressed glance. “I’d expect you, of all people, to have a light.”

“Huh?”

“You know… The desk on fire incident?”

“Oh.”

Darry said nothing to this. I sighed, and lit his cigarette.

“Um… You were dating Heath Shepard, right?”

I froze, my pulse racing.

“Did you hear about his suicide?” he continued.

How does one pretend to be surprised? Should I cry? Should I pretend I didn’t believe him? “… How did you find out?” I asked him.

“My older brother used to be friends with him. I’ve always wanted to go to his house parties… That was before my brother was drafted, of course,” he said with a little chuckle. “… Was Heath as cool as he seemed?”

“He was sweet… But he wasn’t that great.”

Darry frowned, clearly disappointed. It wasn’t as if it mattered much. He was already dead anyway.

“I’m gonna run away from home,” I declared, rather stupidly. “Heath and I, we were gonna live together in New York.”

“Really? You’re gonna leave anyway, even without him?”

There was a chance for me to say I was just joking, and stop from going ahead and just spilling all this information to this random boy from my school. Still, I nodded.

Darry raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Huh. You’re pretty ballsy… To dare and go on your own.”

I smiled proudly and blew some smoke. “I know.”

He nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. I looked away, avoiding his gaze. A few minutes passed. Out of nowhere, he spit at a broken glass bottle that someone had left there. I smiled and spat there too, aiming closer. Darry smiled too, and we kept spitting, aiming for the bottle’s mouth. He clearly had a lot more practice than I did, but I wasn’t doing that bad either. He won, in the end, but I didn’t care that much. It wasn’t like we were betting anything on it.

“… Would you be my girlfriend?”

I looked up at him. He was now gazing at me, jaw clenched shut, hands tense, clearly nervous about what I my response would be.

I thought about it. I would lie if I said I wasn’t flattered, even if it was just Darry fucking Cade. To have anyone want me at all, and to ask so gently, it was a real delight. But I had to be practical. And besides, I knew that, if I was as flat as I used to be, back when I was eight, he wouldn’t even look at me.

“Would you come with me to New York?” I asked him.

Darry gulped. “Uh, well… I mean, I’d like to, b-but I’m not sure I… I mean, I don’t—”

“I knew it,” I replied in a sigh, flicking the butt of my cigarette. “You pussy.”

Janey was right. Commitment was hard to come by.

“I’m going back home. You better not tell anyone at school about this,” I told him. I thought it over. “Or do. I don’t give a damn.”

I stood up and fixed my skirt. He watched me with hungry eyes. I kept avoiding looking directly at him. It disgusted me, once I decoded what that feeling was, how much I wanted to give it a try and have one last kiss in my hometown. Darry was just a boy. He was probably a shit kisser.

“And Darry…”

“Yeah?”

“If you tell anyone that I’m leaving, or where I’m going… I’ll kill you.”

I didn’t stay to see his reaction. I couldn’t afford to even care. I had stuff to do, things to prepare and a backpack to get ready for the trip.

Back at home, I felt so anxious I was barely hungry at all. I did have to eat something, at the very least not to awaken any suspicions.

Besides, I had one more matter to take care of.

While mom made dinner and Bri watched cartoons on TV, I slipped away from their sight and went into our parents’ bedroom. I looked around in my father’s drawers: I was looking for a gun. As a veteran, I had to assume he still had one; and, most importantly, it was possible that I could be mugged in the city. I had heard horror stories of the girls at Heath’s house parties, of being robbed at gun point. Having some way to defend myself was essential if I wanted to make a life for myself. Better safe than sorry, after all, like my mother said.

I found some money that I quickly pocketed, but no gun; instead, at the very bottom of the underwear drawer, I found a switchblade, pretty similar to the one Darry had.

“Cool,” I whispered to myself, with a big smile, holding it carefully. Even better than a gun –it didn’t need bullets, it was lighter, and far easier to carry.

I opened it –and nicked my finger, getting the smallest dot of blood on the blade. I sucked on the wound. And, very carefully, I wiped the blade with the tip of my thumb, before closing it and slipping it into my pocket as well.

“Tiffy?”

I jumped. Brittany was standing behind me, in the darkness, barely lit by the light that came from the open door to the hallway.

“Jesus, Bri, you scared the hell out of me—”

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it to you?” I grumbled, closing the drawer quickly and pushing her to the side so I could get out. “Get out of my way, weirdo.”

“What’s in the drawer?” she insisted, opening it herself and peering inside. “What did you take?”

“What are you, a cop?”

“You took something, I saw it—”

“You didn’t see shit.”

“Mom!” she screamed, running through the hallway past me, dodging my arm as I tried to grab her. “Tiffy’s doing something—!”

“She’s lying!” I cried and ran after her. “Whatever she tells you, it’s a dirty lie!”

“Girls, stop that!” our mother said, just as I caught a strand of my sister’s hair in a fist. “For God’s sake, it’s like you were raised in a barn… Brittany, go get washed for dinner. Tiffany, you set the table.”

I let go of Bri’s hair. “I need to go to the bathroom first—”

“Don’t try to get out of doing something as insignificant as setting the table, Tiffany…”

“I’m not trying to—”

“Don’t argue with me,” she said. “Just do it. You can go to the bathroom later.”

I huffed. Taking the cutlery out of the kitchen drawers, I caught a couple glances she threw my way. Could she suspect what I was planning? Of course not –I hadn’t done anything suspicious, anything that could call her attention. I was just being paranoid.

Regardless, I held back my need to go to the toilet for as long as I could. After all, my mother had the key to the bathroom. If she wanted to, if she assumed anything, she could lock me up there again, and keep me prisoner in that house for the rest of my life.

I had to be patient. I had to be careful. Most of all, I had to be quick.

While I changed into my pajamas, I looked around at my bedroom. There was the dollhouse I had neglected, and the old storybooks that were gathering dust on the shelf, and the few framed photographs of baby pictures and of the family at birthday parties, and a document that certified I had had a Holy Communion, and the fashion magazine cutouts glued to the wall next to my bed, and the three baby dolls that I didn’t play with anymore and that had become Bri’s, even despite my pouring fake blood inside their mouths…

I wasn’t sure yet if I was gonna miss all this or not. I guessed I wouldn’t know until I was far gone.

I climbed into bed, under the watchful eye of our mother, as I juggled with the decision of taking my teddy bear with me or not. I definitely didn’t want Bri’s grubby little hands anywhere near it; then again, it would take a good amount of space in my backpack. And, besides, teddy bears are for babies… But I felt like I needed to take something, anything from that place with me. Something that could make any homesickness I might feel easier to swallow and, eventually, forget about completely. Think about it like a set of training wheels, I told myself. You know you don’t actually need it, but it makes the whole process a lot more comfortable.

Once I could hear my mother’s snoring in the next room, I got out of bed, put my teddy bear in my backpack, and quickly changed into the outfit I had chosen for my journey. All the other clothes I had decided to take along with me were already in the bag. I had also packed a few snacks, some toiletries and a little bit of my mother’s makeup. Since I was gonna be far away by the time she realized it was missing, I finally wasn’t afraid of her finding out.

I opened the window and released my last spider. I hadn’t been properly taking care of her, honestly, so I wasn’t too offended when she scurried away as quick as her eight legs allowed. I took the money out of the jar, recounted it, put some in the backpack and some inside my bra for safekeeping. I was tying my saddle shoes when I heard a quiet little whimper, and, holding my breath, I listened to my sister tossing and turning in her bed next to me. I hadn’t made a noise –so why was she waking up now, of all times?

“Tiffy…?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and sitting on the bed. “What are you doing—?”

I shushed her. She stared at me with her big brown eyes, and for a moment, she seemed stunned enough to keep quiet. I hadn’t planned for this situation. I thought about giving her some of the candy I had in my backpack to bribe her into silence, but I couldn’t trust her to truly shut her mouth anymore. We kept staring at each other for a while. At some point though I had had enough, and I kept tying my shoes and, after that was done, I finally headed for the bathroom.

“Wait –what are you doing?” Bri asked.

“Keep it down,” I said, turning to her. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re… You’re leaving?” she insisted. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

She frowned. “Are you really leaving?”

I didn’t answer. See, there’s a reason I didn’t even consider saying goodbye.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Wait… Please, don’t –don’t go.”

“I said go back to sleep.”

“Please, Tiffy…” she started sobbing. “Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be here alone with mom…”

“Tough luck,” I grumbled, struggling to close my backpack. “You’ll have your chance to run away when you’re older.”

“B-but… If we go together, then I can help you! It’ll be better if we go together—”

“Really, Brittany? How, exactly?” I snapped. “You’ll slow me down. Any food I manage to get I’ll have to split with you. And besides, you’re still a kid.”

“But I’ll… I’ll miss you…”

I stared at her. “Don’t you give me that shit.”

“If you don’t take me with you, then I’ll tell mom,” Bri said with a pout. “I’ll tell her, and she won’t let you out ever again.”

I shot her a look. She opened her eyes wide. And she was about to scream –when I managed to grab onto my bedside lamp –and hit her on the head with it. Only a little bit of blood –a speck on the porcelain –and she dropped onto the mattress with a short grunt. I had to act fast. While she was out, I grabbed a bunch of socks from my side of the room, the longest bunch I found, to tie her hands and feet to the bedposts. And, when she began to blink back into consciousness, I stuffed another balled sock into her mouth.

“You’re always trying to please her, to be her favorite!” I whispered. “You won’t miss me –you’re just trying to get me to regret this and come back.”

Bri said something in muffled cries. But I hadn’t any time to keep wasting with her.

It was an hour to midnight, and ahead of me I had the tall task to change my hair on my own for the first time. First of all, I laid a towel on my shoulders, carefully reading the warning on the bleach bottle I had pulled from under the sink while I sectioned my hair in halves. I wished I could play some music on the radio in the meantime, but I had to work quickly and quietly. Wielding my mother’s fabric shears, I chopped strands of hair to about chin-length, watching myself in the bathroom mirror and turning my head to check how it was looking. There was no plan –just an itching hurry to change how I looked, enough so I wouldn’t be recognized.

The sound of the blades closing in next to my ears made me think of when I was six and, on my first day of school, a boy stuck a piece of chewed bubblegum in my pigtail, and how I had cried and whined when my mother said she would have to chop it off. I was so worried about how it would look, back then…

Once the haircut was done, I slipped my hands into the rubber gloves and took a deep breath. I spread the bleach on top of my uneven hair strands with an old toothbrush, I covered my head with a shower cap, and kept checking on it every five minutes or so. After an hour, as far as I was going to be able to wait it out, I finally took the cap off, closed my eyes and dipped my head in the sink to wash it all off. Sinking my fingers in the now-thinned-out hair, massaging my burning scalp and drowning the chemicals out of the strands, I gasped and blinked to breathe face-down under the dripping water, feeling the warmth of the water in my hands.

The sound of slow-running water over my head made me think of when I was five and, one particularly cold winter, we didn’t have any hot water, so my mother had boiled a few liters in the kettle, and carefully washed my hair in the bathroom. She had mixed the hot water with the cold in a jar, and, lying my chin down on the frozen porcelain sink like Marie Antoinette would wait for the guillotine, she poured the water on my neck, on my nape, on the back of my head, with her long fingernails digging into my scalp and shampoo foam getting in my ears, asking me if it was too hot or too cold…

It wasn’t the blond I wanted –it was more like a weird, pale orange –but it would have to do. Regardless of how far it was from the color I wanted, it was undeniable that, with my hair now short and light, I looked like someone else altogether. If I looked different, then, maybe I could feel different –act different –be different. I’d kill who I was supposed to be to become who I wanted to be.

I smiled at my reflection.

The walk to the bus stop felt shorter than I had expected. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly. Maybe I was just impatient and restless, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep on the journey. I bought a one-way ticket, gripping my bag close to my chest, going over how much money I would have left. Not that it mattered much. I knew I had enough to last me a week or so, I had assumed.

I took a seat next to the window and watched the streets I had grown up in rushing past my eyes, dark and silent, as the road brought me closer to the noise and the lights of the mysterious and bustling city.

#childs play #chucky series #fanfiction

0 notes

ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Situationship

Day 9 of #RampItUp1Kinktober

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris makes sure you know that Vegas wasn’t just a hookup.

1Kinktober Kink: Cum play/ Breeding kink

Word Count 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT! Read at your own risk, angst, fly out, floor sex, oral (m receiving) cum play, size kink, dirty talk, sloppy toppy, talk of and allusions to anal, breeding kink, pregnancy sex (unknown). Not Beta’d. All errors my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

A/ N: This is set in the How I Met Your Father Universe. This is for the 9th DAY of #rampitup1Kinktober! TYSM for following me! 🧡

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were up til 6 in the morning. That was when everyone was finally out of Chris’s LA home and everything cleaned up.

Luckily, you slept on the plane.

Chris flew you out first class to see him for another long weekend and invited all of his west coast friends over to meet you.

He sprung it on you when he picked you up from the airport. You didn’t register what he was saying at all, agreeing to anything, because you were feening for his touch.

Weeks of facetime and phone sex had left both of you wanting badly. You didn’t know if Chris had anyone else, but for you, Chris was the only person you’d been with in months.

You needed him. And you stopped yourself from thinking about anything further.

Lips, hands, mouth, bodies collided and you both got much yearned for release. Chris told you that you were the only one and you decided to believe him.

After the quick, rough, hot as hell sex you had as soon as you hit the door to his home, Chris fed you delicious take out tacos and then you got ready for the gathering. You didn’t know what to expect, but you decided to just go with it.

You weren’t prepared.

Chris was in love. As soon as you cut him off in Vegas and he did everything to speak to you again, he knew. You were different.

When he finally got another chance, he promised himself he wouldn’t let you get away. Even as you went your separate ways at the airport.

He didn’t know why he planned a party for tonight. Maybe it was to keep from being alone with you, thinking too much and saying what he really wanted to say.

When he picked you up at the airport, it was a surprise. He said he was sending a car, not that he’d be in it.

Chris was sure but he didn’t want to scare you away. So he planned a high pressure get together with his famous friends.

“Ahhhh! I’m such a fucking bonehead!”

He muttered it to himself as he saw you emerge from the terminal. His heart sped up, his cheeks flushed and he started sweating a little. He was going to scare you straight away.

When you jumped on his lap in the backseat, he blurted out the news about the party to keep from telling you that he loved you, missed you, needed you.

Damn, he was a goner, his Romeo heart overriding his Mercutio brain as you kissed him silly, all the romantic things he was going to say washed away by nasty sexual commands composed by his cock.

He carried you into his home and fucked you on the entry way floor, leaving the driver to leave your bags on the front porch.

When you had a chance to think, you were too scared to be nervous. Adrenaline kicked in and you just went with the flow. And as a result, you were loose, funny and charming. The complete opposite of your introvert self.

It wasn’t the fam, but it was kinda serious. His agent, a few actor friends that you knew, but now you actually knew. They were all there, and all cool and supportive.

They all seemed to know a lot about you. You hadn’t told too many people in Atlanta about Chris. First of all, they wouldn’t believe you, and second of all… yeah.

All night, Chris’s eyes were on you. You circulated and had fun, not tied to his hip, but every time you looked up, Chris was watching. With that smile.

You never felt yourself blush so much at a party. You felt like you were… his. And you didn’t even think that he was that serious about you. You knew it was intense, but you figured it was just a physical thing for him. After all, it was just a weekend in Vegas

Chris watched you make everyone fall in love with you, including Chris, a little bit more. He was proud that you were here. It hadn’t just been a weekend in Vegas, it was fate. And there was no use wasting time now, he decided. He wanted to be with you.

When you were with him, he kept contact with you, his hip was against your side, his arm around your waist, or thumb on the back loop of your jeans. There was no mistaking your relationship.

What was your relationship again?

Even though you still craved each other, there was no rush to end the party, only furtive kisses and touches in the hallway or kitchen until someone invariably caught you, Chris grinning and you hiding your face in his shirt.

Was this life? You could get used to it.

As Chris closed the door on the final departing guest, he kicked off his shoes, leaned against it and stared at you, crossing his arms and staring at you. Early morning sunlight filtered in the open windows.

“Let’s go to bed.”

The way he intoned it was everything. His deep voice rumbled through you. He came toward you and held out his hand.

“Are you tired?”

You nodded your head and bit your lip. “Yeah.”

You didn’t know why you were scared. You’d fucked him just the day before, and ten ways from Sunday three weeks ago. This just felt like it was going to be more… intimate.

You’d put your things down in his bedroom, eyeing the huge bed with white down bedding. Looked divine. It did again as Chris led you there this morning. He kept his eyes on you as he took off his shirt.

You felt faint as you saw his form, perfection. You approached him and ran your hand over his tattoos as he unbuttoned his shirt that you were wearing and watched your skin pebble with goosebumps.

“So, did I pass the test?”

You weren’t mad, you just realized what had just happened. You looked up at him, genuinely curious.

Chris looked up from his work ridding you of his clothes and gazed into your eyes, worried. You looked uncertain. Shit, he was such a dolt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize until it was too late what I set you up for.” He bit his lip. “But if there was a test tonight, you aced it and rewrote the book. You’re amazing.”

You smiled up at Chris and stretched as you let the shirt drop onto the floor. You let Chris pull down your jeans and you stepped out of them as he lifted your thigh and started kissing toward your panties.

“Oh, Chris...feels good.”

You raked your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan and nip at your sensitive skin.

“I enjoyed the night. It was just… different from what I expected this weekend.”

Those baby blue looked up at you as he rose, holding you against him as he slid up your body.

“What did you expect?”

It was his turn to be curious. He leaned down and kissed you, making your head spin. He leaned his forehead against yours as you pulled apart. You put your arms around his shoulders and stood on your toes, moving your feet on top of his as he walked you back to his bed.

“Ummmm. I don’t know. A weekend of sex and takeout. Hiding out in your house the whole time. No one knowing I was here…”

You were looking down as you were sat down on the bed, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“Hold on.”

Chris was kneeling again at your level, fingers tipping your chin up to see your face.

“So you thought this was just a hookup?” Chris looked worried. “Is that what you wanted….?”

“No! I mean… Yes...I wasn’t expecting anything more I… I was just trying not to catch feelings like I said in Vegas. I don’t want you to think…”

You didn’t know why you were about to cry.

Chris watched your eyes well up and understood.

“Well, let me be perfectly clear. I know you think it’s crazy to say that I’m yours, or you are mine, so I must be crazy.”

Chris looked so wrecked.

“I feel like we are connected. Not just when we have sex. Fuck. Make love. When you are 2500 miles away in Atlanta. You have my heart. You’re mine. Like I told you in Vegas.”

Chris looked down.

“So tell me now if you don’t want to be. I can’t invest anymore of myself in this if…”

You lifted Chris’s face with your palm on his cheek.

“Chris. I didn’t want to admit it, but I think I'm falling in love with you.”

He nuzzled into your hand and kissed your palm to hide his smile. He was elated.

“It doesn’t make sense…”

“Shhhhh. We make our own sense. This is us. Not what anyone else thinks. Me and You. Because I don’t think I’m falling in love with you.”

Your heart sank.

“I fucking know it.” He was deep in the pools of your eyes again. “I love you angel.”

You smiled and lunged for him, but he pushed you back on the bed, feral with desire now that he knew you loved him too. He climbed over you and his hands and mouth were all over you.

“I wanna do so many things to you, but I’m here for you right now. What do you want?”

“Take off your underwear.”

Chris obeyed as he stood and took off his boxer briefs as you quickly took off your panties and unhooked your bra.

What a joy to see it in person again. You reached for the satin smooth cock that barely fit in one hand. You moved your palm up and down, as Chris looked in pain to watch you, leaking as if he hadn’t had release a few hours before.

Chris fucking needed you. Watching your little hand take control of him was testing his limits somehow. He clenched his jaw as he saw your hungry look at his package.

You were sizing him up as you licked your lips. You caught his little gasp as you did so and watched him under your lashes as you opened your mouth and slowly moved toward his tip.

You opened your mouth just wide enough to push him past your lips, causing Chris’s knees to buckle. He grabbed your head as you slid your hot mouth down his shaft, bottoming out with your nose at his shaved pelvis.

You inhaled his scent as you concentrated on breathing, and reached up to gently, then just a little more firmly, play with his balls which were already tight against him.

You started sucking and slurping him, bobbing up and down his length, as he moaned and pushed himself deeper down your throat as he carded his hands through your hair, short nails on your scalp.

A tingle ran down your spine as he grasped your head and started using your face to fuck his cock.

You felt him pulse, warm salty precum over your tongue and down your throat.

“Angel, I’m about to cum already. Haven’t had a blow job this good, or at all, since Vegas.”

You smiled around the base of his cock as he was now deep in your throat, proud that he was talking about you. You hummed okay and Chris pressed further, causing you to choke as he started shooting for you to swallow, then pulled out, leaving cum on your outstretched tongue and dripping down your chest and torso.

Chris held your mouth open to look at you, painted with his seed, and then told you to “Swallow, Angel.”

You did so and smiled as Chris gathered more of his cum on his fingers from between your breasts..

“Open. Let me see.”

You opened your mouth to let him see that you had swallowed. He smiled and nodded, cock coming back to life as he stuffed his fingers back into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You did so, happily, as Chris took some more cum and spread it around your nipple until it became sticky, the friction increasing as he twirled it around your areola.

When you took some cum and started lubricating your clit with it, fellating his fingers as you twitched, was when Chris leaned down and grabbed your thighs, throwing you back on the bed.

“Mine. Give me this shit.”

He looked down at you hungrily. As he lined up and speared into you quickly, “Oh my God Chris!”

He felt like he was going to split you in two immediately, then the sting turned into slippery delight as your oh so wet pussy accepted him. He started fucking into you quickly and relentlessly as you held your thighs open for him.

“Gotdamn! Tell me that this pussy is mine. And you better mean it.”

Chris was glaring down at you, angry for no reason.

“It….it’s fucking yours Chris! Damn! You’re so fucking huge.”

You were almost crying.

“Fuck. We forgot a condom. Again.”

Chris was in your ear. His cum getting sticky between you. He leaned down and sucked some off of your nipple.

“Do you want me to pull out, like I did yesterday?”

You just huffed. You decided that you lost your mind as his cock met your cervix again and again, bulbous head brushing against your spot. Your eyes were sparking white behind your lids.

“I’ll tell you what I want to do.”

You knew what he was going to say and that only got you wetter and hotter. You groaned.

“I want to fucking pump my cum into you and make you sleep with it inside you.”

You whimpered at the image.

“I feel like I have a huge load inside me and I want to see it drip out of you.”

He grunted in your ear.

“Hell, I might even lick it out of you.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Fuck, Chris!”

“Is that too nasty? You make me wanna do things to you… you’re mine…”

“Do what you want...I’m yours.”

Chris grabbed your ass and tested a finger inside, feeling himself in your cunt. You started almost convulsing at the fullness.

“Whatever I want?”

Chris smiled against your neck, which was purple with love bites.

“Could you handle it?” He wiggled his finger.

“You’re so thick, but I want itttttttt.”

Your back is bowing into his body now, just wanting him to possess you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Chris started pumping faster, the idea of what you were saying getting him close. “Can I have your ass?”

“You can have anything you want.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“FffFuck fuck, shitttttttt!”

Chris pounded you into the mattress as he came. It did feel like a lot.

He collapsed on top of you and you welcomed his weight. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, and brushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

He rolled on to his back and looked over at you, dimple appearing as he smiled.

“You ok?”

He was tracing his finger around your face. You turned toward him, smiling back softly.

“I’m amazing.”

“Yes. yes you are.”

Chris leaned over and kissed your nose.

“Don’t Move.”

Chris got up and went to the bathroom, cleaning up a bit and getting a wet, warm washcloth for you. He wiped you down tenderly and with love in his eyes. Yeah. This was it.

He made you open your legs and he watched what was going on down there. Your beautiful, puffy lips were oozing of his spend, and that kinda turned him on.

He reached down and ran his thick finger between your folds, gathering it and pushing what was seeping out back in side you.

He brought his finger to his lips, and then climbed on top of you, caging you in with his arms. You could feel his cock against your thigh, hardening again. Your eyes widened.

“Ummmhmmmm.”

Chris’s eyebrow was up and he had on an evil grin.

“I think you can hold some more. Time to give it to you.”

“Wanna have my baby?”

You gasped as Chris laughed and captured your lips.

The funny thing was, it was already too late to worry about that.

Doubly so.

Idk. Do you like it? Let me know.

Tags

@summerofsnowflakes @riiyy @sillyteecup @theselilwonders @chattykathysquietsister @nikole-witha-k @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @lovebittenbyevans @maroonsunrise83 @curlyhairclub @chcblndnrd75 @marvelfansworld @olyvoyl @undergroundstyle @donutloverxo @royallyprincesslilly @ysmmsy @sebastianabucknettastan @geminixevans @na-nou83 @subwaysurf45 @batboysdoll @kiwisa @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @aliceforbes @photmath @iconicshit @maroonsunrise83 @denisemarieangelina @harrysthiccthighss @simpinforu @sunshinexsin @celestialbeingz @the-1900 @mrsbawar21-blog @lovebittenbyevans

#rampitup1kinktober #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #rpf #chris evans x you

2K notes · View notes

christinebloodwrittings · 2 years

Text

Anon request: Could you write for Loki with an s/o who tries out using 🍃 for the first time after a long day of being overwhelmed? and Loki is there to look after them?

You ask I write! 💖💖

If I step someone's tail, I deeply sorry.

With all my love to you, my darling!

*My requests are open*

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's easy to tell someone to breathe, but what if that's not enough? Loki understands the feeling, that's why he'll be there for you, even in your lowest.

Warnings: Illicit drug use for medical purposes, overwhelming feelings, comfort.

Loki taglist: @lokisprettygirl22 @lucky-foxface @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @high-functioning-lokipath @thereadinggeek @el-zef @apine7 @beakami @lokiprompts

Needed

Being the replacement for Pepper Pots as Tony's secretary wasn't easy, you had to follow Tony Stark wherever he went, or wherever he was called to go. That included being around lots of people for long periods of time, standing up and smiling, putting up with comments about either your boss or your body and your usefulness, the sluts who couldn't keep their claws off your married boss, the assholes who swear that by attacking your self-esteem you will follow them to their luxury car and then never see them again.

You hated those events, they bring out the worst in you, and to top it off after all that fiasco you had to go back to the office to finish paperwork.

You felt it rising, an uncomfortably warm sensation in your chest that hugged your lungs tight; to try to ease it you breathe deeply a few times, but it still felt warm, your sore neck was giving you a hard time, the heels you were wearing were making your spine hurt a lot.

"Hey Y/n! How about you take the night? My wife can handle it from here!" you forced out a smile and nodded, loosing yourself in the crowd as you were looking for the exit.

Where was the exit again?

The music in the background was muffled, a loud high pitched ring made you cover your ears, but the noise came from the inside of you. Your stomach lurched from disorientation, yet you seemed calm, you were finally able to breathe when you got into your car and drove home.

You took off your heels and threw them to who knows where, sighing and growling, the bright light of the kitchen hurt your eyes, "Welcome darling, are you hungry?" your boyfriend appeared rose up from the couch, leaving his book aside to greet you, yet his face shifted when he looked at you, "My love, are you okay? You look pale" maybe you wanted to cry? no, that damned light! the awful party, you were just feeling too much. "I really just want to lay down baby, I just...I" your brain got a bit tied, as it couldn't think of another thing than just getting into bed.

"Words my love, you can do it…may I?" Loki knew what kind of state you were in, so he would ask for your consent before touching you, even though every time you just nodded and melted into his soft touch, which brought a bit of clearness into what you needed in the moment.

"I'm just not up for anything, alright? I'm tired" that wasn't fair, you were being mean to him, over something that he has no fault in, "I'm so sorry my love, I-" he cut you off with a soft peck on the lips, "Sounds like you had a hard day, do you want me to stay with you? maybe eat something? or do you wish to be alone?" he softly spoke.

It was wonderful that he gave you options, all to allow your brain to rest, "I want to be alone, can I still call you?" he petted your hair and kissed your forehead, "Whenever you want my love, go rest” one last kiss on your forehead made your muscle memory work, otherwise walking would have been a real hazard.

At some point at work you decided you just wouldn’t go through another episode, so you called your therapist and she told you something you didn’t expected. She recommended a medical dose of cannabis, she said it came with more pro’s than con’s with your situation, but that in simpler words, it would work as a temporary distressing or coping mechanism, since your usual pills weren’t making you feel any better.

The dose she prescribed was “safe”, she said that it would be controlled and measured so that there would be no risk of your body becoming addicted to the drug. She also asked that your boyfriend meet her to explain him the procedure and how he could help you improve your situation.

Loki loves feeling useful when it comes to you, so it wasn’t really a surprise when he told you he was 100% ready to help you, he looked like a dark fur golden retriever.

You were at a very non sketchy place to get it, somehow you expected it to be a dark alley or the back of a gas station, but since it was a rescripted dose, you could safely ask for it at a normal drugstore.

You weren't supposed to consume it right away, your therapist advised you to make a tea out of it, or bake it, but neither of the servings had to contain a high dose of cannabis.

You got your solution, but you were scared, of the effects, the way your body could react to it, all of it kept you away from the drug, being reluctant to even think about consume it, it being still a substance that could harm you, it had an important weight in a moral sense, but then again it had the purpose of making you better. So there you hanged on a mental thread.

Until one day, same as any day at work, you came back with your heels in hand, drenched in your own sweat and the rain that poured like a wild ocean. You ran away from a party that Tony hosted to celebrate a victorious mission, it ended up with you locked up in a public bathroom in a gas station, your eyes shut, the coldness of the tiles somehow soothed your headache.

You felt inclined to move your body towards the WC, your stomach and your head managed to send your senses to hell, the command was to vomit, but you had nothing inside you. It hurt so much to try to force all the pain out by hurling, and failing miserably, so you ended up falling against the wall giving up, exhausted and in pain.

“Loki, please my love…I need you” you hugged your body close, hoping he would hear your broken sobs, and luckily he did, he appeared by your side, held you close to his chest and after passing his arm under your legs he scooped you up. “I think it’s time my love, should I brew the tea for you?” you nodded, massaging his silky black curls as he teleported you back to your shared bedroom.

“Would you like me to dress you, or you can manage?” you groaned, he lowered your body to the bed, “I don’t know Loki, it hurts” you did felt better knowing that you were in familiar grounds, his fresh scent sent the dizziness away, his soft caresses…but it still bothered you, why if you were so well, why you succumbed to pain so easily? It made you furious.

“My love, I’ll do it for you, I feel your frustration, just concentrate in my voice and my hands, please?"

"JUST!..." you took a deep breath, his touch was lovely, but in your state it was just too much. Felling him, then your head, then the light of the room, how everything just started to spin around. Your body, you couldn't figure out where that tingling, like an electric sensation, was coming from, it hurt and infuriated you, not knowing.

"Please my love" you had taken his hands off of your body with such urgency, he understood that he wasn't helping. He didn't let you alone for much time, he came back with your favorite mug filled with the funny smelly tea.

"I diluted a little portion in this tea, but it will take longer to be effective because your system will process it, but read that if you smoke it, it will take maybe ten minutes" in that desperate moment, you pushed away the cigar and took the cup. It's that you needed the pain to go away, but ruining your lungs was out of the question.

You drank the mug's content, a couple drops fell from the corner of your mouth but Loki was quick to wipe them off, earning a warm smile from you.

"Will you wait with me?" He nodded, sitting beside you with his back against the bed, lowering just enough so your head could flop on his shoulder.

Around ten minutes went away, and you woke up from Loki's lap with a smile on your face, feeling giddy, light. You brought your fingers up to Loki's forearm, drawing a line back and forward to his wrists.

"Hello~" you giggled, watching a smile forming on his face, "Hello gorgeous, how are you feeling?" The hems of his fingers barely touched your cheek, the electric sensation left, instead you leaned against him and encouraged to caress you with his full hand.

"Cloudy, floaty, lovely" he watched you breathe, it was relaxed, deep, and you really seemed to enjoy the coldness of the air filling your lungs. And he just loved to see you better, or at least not in pain.

“Take it easy love, there's nowhere to go, nothing to do, it's just you and me. Besides, when you were sleeping I called Stark, you have the rest of the week off” he lowered his head to leave little kisses on your face, “You're mine, only mine for a whole week” you laughed, as you used to do before all the disaster, “I'm yours every day, Loki, always” you love to see him smile, you imagined a little tail wiggling from side to side every time he was happy.

A rumble on your stomach made him look at you funny, he corrected your posture from his lap to cradle you in his arms, so your face would be merely inches from his, "Hungry, love? What do you crave? Sweet, salty, sweet and sour?" so many options to choose from, and yet you went with "Cheetos with Nutella", his eyes widen in surprise, he thought it was a joke, but it wasn’t.

He left you watching cartoons while he teleported to the market, he didn’t took long but you didn’t even notice, you were fascinated with the colors and the quietness in your brain. It was just you, in cloud 9.

He handed you a portion of Cheetos on a bowl and the jar of Nutella. He assured you that it was only yours so you didn’t need to worry about leaving any for him, that sparkle in your eyes will never leave his mind.

He passed his hand behind your back, with his strength it was easy to push you forward gently for him to accommodate you between his legs, with his back resting on the cushions and yours on his chest. Your head and your body reclined in the search of his warmth, his affection, he would die to see you that happy without needing to be drugged, however, his beloved mortal did not work like that, and it was fine, he liked feeling needed.

“Loki?” he saw your eyes perk up, as well as your drowsy smile and silly giggles that made him chuckle, “Yes my love?” your hand that didn’t had Cheeto dust went up to caress his hair, “Thank you, for being in my life” you finished giving him a heartfelt smile before paying attention to the drawing on screen, you head nuzzling against his shoulder.

“No darling” he pressed you more against him, “Thank you” after whispering, he placed one kiss to your cheek, inhaled on your scent and closed his eyes, feeling your content and simple joy as you munch on your strange delight, “Someday” he thought to himself.

Someday he was going to take you away, from your pain and Earth. To a shack he was building on a distant planet while you were working. It was filled with flowers and protected with its own orbit, shielded with a spell and a giant snake that would prevent strangers to taint his gift. Someday, he repeated to himself like a prayer while eyeing the lowest drawer under the TV, where he kept the ring.

198 notes · View notes

darkmulti · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your blog! So hard to find a non con writers! Ignore the haters, just keep doing what you love! You’re not alone!

So happy to see your request open! I’d like to request a NON CON where Mafia JK fell in love at first sight with innocent reader and bought her in an auction. He is obsessed with her so he marries her and deflowered her, stuffing his thick manhood in her and. JK has a bloodplay kink. He wouldn’t stop fucking her until she passed out everyday. Milking her dry from orgasms. Thank you 💜

-> Thank you for the reassurance❣️

⚠️: BLOOD PLAY, NON CON, human trafficking, virgin reader, physical, mental & emotional abuse, little/innocent!reader, ddlg-ish, manipulation

“Get the hell up, you have to get ready.”

The man kicked you in your stomach and grabbed your arm, pulling you upstairs to the bathroom

“Wear this dress and fix up your face.”

He left the bathroom and you quickly jumped into the shower

Today was the “big day”

You were being auctioned off

Obviously, you were terrified and nervous

However, your current “owners” said that if someone doesn’t buy you today, they’ll make your life a living hell

They were hungry for money and if no one wanted you, you would’ve been a big waste of their money, time and energy

Well, not really — they just needed to blame someone for their lack of success

Plus, you’re the first person that they’re selling

They kidnapped you when you were walking home from the train station

You didn’t have much family nor friends which kinda made you the perfect target

You cooperated with your two “owners” because you didn’t want to get hurt

Yet, it still happened anyways

They’d often kick you, or slap you, or pull your hair

Nevertheless, you didn’t complain because you wanted to stay out of trouble

When you finished getting ready, your “owners” tied your arms and legs together and threw you into the trunk

The auction event was big

You could tell that you this event had plenty of rich and powerful people just by looking at all the cars

Your owners took you inside through the back door and told you to fix your hair

Once you did, they dragged you behind the stage and made you wait there for nearly 3 hours

There were other girls lined up in front and behind you, half looking terrified and half looking excited

In those three hours you overheard some girls talking about a certain man they wished to be bought by

Those were the girls who were “excited”

They were talking about how they went “all out” to impress him

You tend to not judge people but, you couldn’t help yourself

Who the fuck wants to be sold to anyone?

You couldn’t wrap your head around their thought process

They were practically gushing about this mafia guy who was supposedly young and handsome

Even if he was, why the hell would you want to be someone else’s property?

You muted their voices so you didn’t have to hear their nonsense and soon enough the auction started

One by one, girls and boys went up on stage and the bidding started

You were surprised because some of those girls got sold for only a couple hundred bucks

When it was your turn, your owners basically dragged you on stage and held you wrist as tight as they could so you couldn’t run

“A young, ripe, virgin finishing up university. Starting bid, $50,000.”

One by one, people raised their auction paddles and offered more for you

Your owners went wide eyed after the bids started increasing by $10,000

You eventually passed 1 million and were near 2 million

Random old men were raising their paddles higher and higher, determined to buy you

Eventually one of them had enough and said “5 million dollars!”

The room went silent and your owners were about to say “sold!” when someone interrupted and said “10 million dollars”

Even your mouth dropped

10 million?!

The man stood up and walked closer to the stage

Your two owners recognized him and started bowing multiple times

“S-She’s all yours, Mr. Jeon! Thank you so much. Please take her.”

This was the first time you saw the two males scared and nervous

And it kinda frightened you

It took a lot to scare those two but, this guy did it effortlessly

So, what in the world would happen to you?

You got dragged off stage again and the auction continued

You were dragged into a private room where the man who had just bought you gave the two men 10 million in cash

7 brief cases stacked on top of each other, full of hundreds

The two males happily accepted and let you go with the man

He didn’t want to stick around for the event so, he pulled you out of the building and pushed you into the car

“Anders, drive us home.”

The car ride was silent in the beginning

You’re eyes were glued on the window and his were glued on his phone

About an hour later, you fell asleep against the window and he noticed

He slapped you across the face and pulled you’re body away from the door

“What’re you sleeping for? You did absolutely nothing today. Do you think you’re some kind of princess? Do you think can sleep wherever you want whenever you want? Keep your eyes open. If I catch you sleeping again, I’ll make you regret it.”

Tears gathered in your eyes and you couldn’t hold it in

You started to sniffle, making Jungkook look over at you

“Shut up! If I hear you cry, I’ll force you to walk all the way home, barefoot”

You covered your mouth with your hand and lowered your head

After taking a moment to breathe normally, you apologized

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows

“How do you know my last name?”

“I heard my owners call you by that na-”

Another smack on your cheek, this time a little harder

“How dare you call them your owners?!”

Your eyes held so much terror, and it was a turn on for Jungkook

That was the moment he realized how much control he had over you

You were so naive and innocent, it made him want to ruin you

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon! I didn’t realize! It was an honest mistake.”

“Just wait until we get home” he muttered under his breath but you were able to make it out

You were terrified and rightfully so

Once you got home, Jungkook didn’t have any mercy on you

You were running from him, not knowing where you were going

You ran upstairs into a large bedroom and locked the door

“Please, don’t hurt me!” You cried, clutching onto the top of your dress that he ripped apart

You thought he was on the other side of the door, calming down but the closet door busted open and there he was

You tried to open the room door but he was faster and pulled you back onto the bed

“Already causing so much trouble for me, little one.”

He hovered over you

“I’m sorry. I’m scared. Please, don’t kill me.”

You started to cry under him

You looked so precious, begging for your life

He couldn’t resist

He took off his suit and ripped your dress open

Underneath, you were wearing a red and black lace lingerie

He let out a low growl before attacking your neck and marking you all over

“Wait! Sir! Please! Mr- agh! Mr- Mr. Jeon! No! I’ll give you money! Please! I can give you all the money in my bank account if you just let me go! $59,000 is all I have! I can-”

Jungkook started to chuckle against your neck

“59,000 dollars? That’s all? You expect me to set you free after you give me 59,000 dollars?”

He laughed right in your face which broke your heart

It was your hard earned money

You hated to see someone discredit your hard work just like that

You frowned and got tearful

“It’s all the money I have.”

You said in a quavering voice

Jungkook looked at you

You were dead serious

“I bought you for 10 million dollars and you want me to set you free for $59,000. Anyone with a brain would deny that offer.”

He slapped you again and continued on

Jungkook sucked your neck, breast and chest; leaving dark, purple marks all over

“Wait! Mr. Jeon, I-I’m actually waiting till m-marriage.”

“That doesn’t matter, anymore. You’ll be getting married to me, anyways.”

“No! Please!”

Jungkook pulled down your underwear and rubbed two fingers up your slit, making you shiver

“So pretty. I can’t wait anymore.”

He pulled out his thick shaft and you started to panic

“No! No, no, please! I don’t want this! I don’t want to do this, please!”

He spat on your opening for some lub and pushed his whole length in harshly

You groaned in pain when he did but couldn’t fight back

Your hands were against his chest but, pushing him off wasn’t easy

He started thrusting inside of you at a cruel speed, causing you gasp really loudly before wailing

“Hey! Stop! Please! It hurts!”

Jungkook pinned your wrist next to your head and fucked you deeply

After hours of fucking, cum and blood covered his cock and the bedsheet

He smeared the blood and cum mix all over your body

“Look at you, covered in your virgin blood mixed with my cum. You look so pretty.”

You were mumbling incoherent words, unable to think straight

He forced three orgasms out of you, of course you weren’t able to think straight

Sweat covered your forehead and your tight hole was leaking cum and blood

He pushed in one more time and began fucking you hard

You were squealing under him, telling him to stop yet he slapped your ass and grabbed your throat

“Your cunt seems to love my cock. That’s why you’re cumming so much around me. So stop telling me that it hurts because I know it’s a lie.”

One more deep push and you both came together

He laid down next to you and pulled you onto his chest

“Next week, you’ll officially be mine.”

You weren’t listening

Because you were passed out

It was your first time and he had made you cum at least 17 times

It would be surprising if you didn’t pass out

Jungkook didn’t lie when he said that you’ll be his in the next week

He made one phone call and whoever was on the end of the line planned a huge wedding in a week

You woke up one day and were forced into a white gown

Once you put the pieces together, you had a panic attack

You were getting married to this man you’ve only known for a week

You were being so uncooperative to the point where Jungkook had to come to you and set you straight

He quickly fucked you back into submission and made you get ready for your wedding

After your wedding, loads of fucking

You guys didn’t even show up to your reception party because Jungkook could not stop fucking you

And it continued like this for a very long time

You weren’t sure how you were still producing cum

Every morning, every night, sometimes in the middle of the day, he wants to have sex

It’s not like he’s slow or gentle either— he’s aggressive in bed, it’s tough to handle him

You usually end up passing out and even that doesn’t stop him

The next morning you wake up tired and sore however, he wakes up needy and wanting more

Sometimes he’ll fuck you hard enough to make you pass out right in the morning

Even when he comes back from a mission, he still has the energy to fuck you

You just don’t understand

For weeks, you can’t walk straight because of him

And it hurts to put any sort of pressure on your lower abdomen

Despite all of that, you still love him

After all the manipulation and brain washing he’s done to you, he’s convinced you that you’re in love with him

And that you won’t survive without him

You’ve been craving for love and attention for your whole life and Jungkook was finally giving some

Why would you want the person who makes you feel loved and appreciated gone from your life?

Jungkook used guilt tripping to make you stay with him

Not to mention, taking advantage of your toxic past

Stockholm syndrome ending for the win 🥇

Sorry for any mistakes!! Have a good day<3

#jungkook smut #jungkook yandere #non con #bts smut #mail: 📭

432 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes rather possessive over Spencer when she learns he’s been been with someone else since they hooked up four months ago. Category: SMUT (18+) Content Warnings: Language, mutual masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hand-on-neck (no choking), praise, degradation kink, possession kink, dirty talk Word Count: 7.1k (I didn’t mean for it to get this long I swear aldjfsdlfksk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

MASTERLIST

NOTE: HERE IT IS!!! 🥰 Thank you all for showing so much love to Part 1, I seriously wasn’t expecting all the requests for more of the story, so it was fun coming up with ideas! I’m still not sure if I want to do 3 or 4 parts yet, but I’ll let you know soon! In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy reading this second installment! ❤

***

He's been a ghost in my head for four months.

Everywhere I went I could hear his voice, hear the way he whimpered out my name and how cries got higher and higher as I clenched around him. I felt the rough grip he held on my hips as I rode him, the pads of his fingertips leaving behind faint bruises that I currently wished I still had.

And more prominently, I saw his face. It was always in the back of my mind, burning into me with lust-drunk eyes and a pouty mouth in the shape of an O. It sizzled into my brain, the sound definitely sounding more like raindrops than fire, but I was more than okay with that.

Though, every time it rained, I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same— if he stood outside or watched from the safety of wherever he was and replayed that moment over and over again until he was aching to be in my presence once more.

I also had to wonder if he knew about the ring I'd left in his front seat.

Did he leave it in his car, perhaps in the glovebox or on a string that he tied around his mirror? Or did it fall somewhere between the seats? Maybe he found it and did what I never could, pawning it off for some happily-accepted cash while he laughed at how careless I was to take a stranger's virginity and then leave my expensive diamond ring behind like a fool.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the means to find out.

It's not like I could have wandered up to the FBI building and ask to meet with a Dr. Spencer Reid... Right? Because that as absurd. I'd only met the guy once, and he'd probably think I was crazy for trying to track him down.

It was a whole ordeal that I'd mulled over again and again, and I ultimately decided that it was ridiculous.

If anything I was happy to be rid of the ring. I could move on with my life, and maybe Spencer sold it for money or he's held on to it as a souvenir for a special night.

Win-win.

It didn't dull the small ache I felt for him, though. Every once in a while I found myself remembering how great that night was... I hadn't felt that way—sexy, confident, fun—in a long time, and as much as it sucked that he was getting picked on by some drunk idiots at a bar, I was glad it led me to him.

Some nights, when I was missing him significantly more than usual, I even went back to Waterson's in the event that I'd run into him again, hopefully under better circumstances.

Tonight was one of those nights.

This time I didn't have a ring to keep most of the men from hitting on me, but now that I was well and truly over my ex-husband, I was glad I didn't use that as an excuse to keep the ring around anymore. As annoying and painful as the drunken flirting was, I was way better equipped to handle it and truthfully somewhat relieved that I could get back to normal.

You know, save for the fact that I was only at Waterson's in the first place to maybe see some guy I hooked up with four months ago and still haven't stopped thinking about...

Because that was totally a normal thing to do.

I was on my second beer of the night when I felt a presence behind me. And even though I was pretty sure than I'd be able to tell if it was really Spencer, a part of me still buzzed thinking of the prospect of seeing him here again.

I turned around though, and was met with an entirely different person. I tried not to look disappointed, but it must have shown because the man who'd caught my attention gave a small laugh.

"I'm sorry, are you expecting someone?"

I liked to think that I had a good read on most people, especially when it came to men in bars. This man was someone I looked at for a few seconds and immediately knew that he wasn't looking to make me uncomfortable. He had come over to flirt with me, no doubt, but the difference here was that where most men would have gone straight into it, this man genuinely looked like he was willing to haul ass if I really was waiting for someone and didn't want his company.

That alone made me willing to entertain him a little, even if I was disappointed that he wasn't who I desperately wanted him to be. But it certainly helped that he was attractive.

The first word that came to mind was smooth. Even as I laughed back at the man and answered him, my eyes did some wandering of his figure and admired what I saw. A crisp, tight grey tee shirt that hugged some rather nice muscles, and brown skin that was just a few shades lighter than his eyes, which were kind and a little playful. His smile was stunning, sharing that same playfulness that his eyes held as he practically sparkled to life at my answer.

"Oh, no, I'm not... But I certainly wasn't expecting you..."

I made sure to smile at him, a little smirk that complimented the admiring eyes I was offering him and a little laugh that never failed to get me what I wanted.

He gently leaned into the bar, one of his hands coming to rest of the cool wooden surface. "I'm Derek."

"Y/N."

"Pretty name."

I don't know what made me so bold, but I nodded and shot him a wink. "Not as pretty as you."

We shared another laugh, and then I took a swig of my beer, finishing the last of it and then sliding towards him. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"We just met and you're already stealing from me... That's my line."

"What can I say, I'm quick... Hey, Carla! Can I get two more for me and my friend here?"

The bartender—and my longtime friend—laughed a little, taking my empty bottle. "Sure thing."

The look she gave me right before turning away practically yelled, I thought your type was helpless skinny white guys who can barely look you in the eye without creaming themselves...

Yeah, well, you worked with what you were given. And besides, my type was practically anyone with just a shred of decency.

Real high bar, huh?

But after Patrick, I couldn't complain. Derek seemed like the type of guy who would flirt with you at any given chance, but respected your boundaries all the same. Unfortunately that was hard to find nowadays, especially in bars like Waterson's.

So, yeah, he wasn't the man I was naively wishing to see here tonight, but he was into me, he was decent from what I could tell, and he was hot.

So we had a drink and spent a good twenty minutes chatting it up. Since it was my third beer of the night, I was accumulating a pretty steady buzz, and the longer I talked with Derek the more I opened up a little. I found myself leaning into him and finding excuses to lightly touch his arm, but I kept noticing that he was glancing down at his watch occasionally.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked, playfully.

"Right, uh... Yeah, I was supposed to be meeting a friend here. He's usually early, but I think we got our times mixed up again..."

"Again, huh? You two aren't very good coordinators?"

Derek laughed, the sound making me feel all warm. "Well, for FBI agents you'd think we'd be better at it."

"O—Oh," I said, my heart stopping for a beat. Had I heard that right? Was I more tipsy than I thought? "FBI?"

"You seem stunned," he said with another laugh. "What, you're not a criminal, are you? Do I have to take you in?"

I laughed, albeit nervously, but decided that this all had to be pure coincidence. If I didn't, I would have gone insane. Even still, it was difficult for me to sit here and openly flirt with this man when I knew he just confessed to having the same profession as the literal man of my dreams— and as of late that also included daydreams.

In fact, I was positive that's what it was when I saw Spencer approach us— a daydream.

Derek was calling my name, I knew that much, but I couldn't do anything but look over his shoulder where Spencer's ghost practically froze in place when he spotted me.

"Y/N?"

That wasn't Derek's voice. Spencer's mouth moved in time with the calling of my name, and it even sounded like him. I blinked rapidly, hoping that I could snap out of it and excuse myself for the rest of the night, so I could go home and sleep it off.

But even when I finished blinking, expecting Spencer's figure to be gone, he was still there.

At this point Derek had turned around, and what he said next snapped me out of it pretty damn good.

"Reid? You know her?"

"You're real," I said, speaking for the first time in a while. My throat felt dry, and my heart came alive at the sight of him.

Spencer stared at me, his eyes softening after I spoke to him. I saw his lips twitch into a shy smile before his hand came up in an equally shy wave. "Y—Yeah, I'm real." What followed was a huffed laugh that cemented his nervousness at seeing me again for the first time in four months, and it was the most refreshing thing I'd heard in a while.

"Oh my God," I said, a smile of my own starting to creep up.

I'd completely forgotten about Derek being there until he spoke up, snapping us out of our reunion, his voice conveying every range of confusion.

"What the hell is this?"

***

I knew there was always a minor chance that I'd run into her again, but it still rendered me utterly still and practically useless when I spotted her across the bar with Derek.

She was just... there. After months of debating whether or not I should send her a letter with the ring mailed back or stopping by to see her, or even using Garcia's help to find where she might have been so I could 'surprise' running into her... It happened to chance that I didn't need any of that at all. Because she was really there.

And she was flirting with Derek.

I'd have been lying if I said that didn't really bother me, but truthfully I'd always felt a bit insecure around him, mostly when it came to being surrounded by women who were most likely fawning over him instead of me.

Not that I particularly wanted or even needed them to fawn over me in the first place... It was just... Telling.

And it's not like I knew or thought I wasn't at least somewhat attractive. But seeing the one and only woman who'd ever made me feel very good about all of that for probably the first time in my whole life openly flirting with my best friend? It stung. It felt like now that she'd seen me and him in the same place, she'd decide that she'd made a mistake before and that she'd be better off with someone else— someone who was stronger and more skilled and probably easier to look at.

Even when the three of us sat at a booth and Y/N decided to sit next to me, her proximity dizzying after all this time apart, the first thought that came to my mind was, She doesn't want to see me. She'd much rather sit across from Derek so she can look at him instead.

I was starting to think maybe I should have stuck to mailing her a letter...

"So... Are you gonna tell me how you two know each other?" Derek asked, leaning back and easily amused.

Y/N seemed to be amused by all of this, too, because she answered immediately, a tone in her voice that I'd only dreamed about for four months and nine days straight.

"Oh, we were engaged."

If I didn't know any better, I would have thought Derek's eyebrows were going to fly straight off his head. "Engaged? Like... Engaged?"

"I—It's not what you think," I jumped in, suddenly a little embarrassed. "Not really engaged, but... Y/N pretended to be my fiancée once... There were, um... There were these guys who wouldn't leave me alone and she came over and told them off."

I hoped he wouldn't piece it together, but it was inevitable, and the look of realization that crossed his features made me feel extra warm with embarrassment.

"Oh... Is she the reason why you actually said yes to that date last month?"

Y/N turned to me, an eyebrow raised. "A date? Because of me? I don't... I don't follow..."

I was going to explain, but Derek beat me to it.

"I've always tried to set Pretty Boy here up for a date, but he's always said no, and then out of the blue I ask him and he agrees. Which was a shock in its own. I knew something was up, something had to have given him the confidence to go on the date... And all along its been you, hasn't it?"

"Well, I... I don't know, I guess so?"

They both looked at me then, and I stared down at my hands, unwilling to look either of them in the eye. "Y—Yeah... I don't know, I guess Y/N just... helped me see something in myself I hadn't seen before."

I half expected them to think it was silly, but Y/N's hand dropped down onto my knee and I stared at it for a moment before flitting my eyes up to meet her gaze. It was soft, and a small smile grazed her pretty features.

"Oh, Spencer, I'm so glad I could do that for you... How was the date?"

"O—Oh, it... It was fine. Not... I'm not seeing her anymore, but it wasn't bad... Just, um... There wasn't much of a connection, that's all."

In simpler words, She wasn't you.

But I couldn't tell her that, not when she was staring at me again with those sparkling eyes and her hand burning a hole through my pants with her electrifying touch, and most certainly not with Derek sitting right in front of us.

"Hey, whether it worked out or not, whatever you did to get him out there, it must have been one hell of a job," he said as if he'd been reading my thoughts.

Y/N gave me a knowing look, though, and suddenly I was transported to my car, feeling her hand explore my body as she showered me with filthy words and names that set me alight and cemented something about myself that I'd never known. Since then I had dreams about her, telling me how much of a 'good little whore' I was for her, and I always woke up from those dreams clutching her ring around my finger.

"Well, like I said, I'm glad I could help. Your boy here is one in a million."

It was awkward. This was all very extremely awkward. And even though I knew that, I still couldn't bring myself to stop it. I couldn't bring myself to stop staring at Y/N, soaking her all up like she was going to leave again at any given second. I couldn't stop thinking about her, our predicament, what we did and what I discovered about myself back then...

God, I was talking like we hadn't seen each other in years. It was only four months and yet I was acting like she'd left me alone after years of being together. This was ridiculous, right?

Thankfully Derek's phone rang, snapping us all out of the bubble of silence we'd been in for what seemed like forever.

"Uh, I'm gonna... get this. Be back in a few."

I expected Y/N to drop whatever act it was she had going on with me after he left the table, but her hand remained firmly on my knee. And then she moved a little closer, turning to me completely and tilting her head with a smile that only meant mischief.

"So... Looks like we have some catching up to do..."

***

I was practically giddy when Derek excused himself for a "Garcia Emergency". Though, I was concerned until he assured us that it wasn't anything bad, and by the look on his face as he quickly talked things over With Spencer, I got the feeling he was expecting his friend to 'have some fun' tonight. And that's what truly made me giddy.

We sat close to each other again, a few drinks between us and only a few booths away from the one we sat in the first time we met. If it weren't for the rock missing from my finger, I would have been convinced we'd actually transported back to that exact moment.

"You getting Deja vu, Doctor?" I asked with a smile, watching as he swallowed.

"Y—Yeah, kinda. It's great seeing you again, I... I really didn't think I would."

I laughed. "You know where I live, and you're an FBI agent... I'm pretty sure you could have saw me again if you wanted to."

"Well... Yeah, but I didn't want to be creepy or anything..."

"Trust me... If you randomly showed up at my door, I'd be anything but creeped out. I missed you..."

Spencer looked up at me for a moment, his eyes shifting before he seemed to relax. "You... did?"

"Of course... I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met. And I hope that's not creepy," I added in a laugh.

"No, not at all," he reassured with a nervous laugh of his own. "Actually, um... I've been thinking about you a lot, too..."

"Even on your date?"

I'd only meant it as a little joke, maybe another conversation starter, but at the mention he seemed... embarrassed.

"Oh, no, that was... That wasn't really... I—I only really did it to get Derek off my back, it—"

I rested a hand on his arm and smiled gently. "Hey, it's alright... I didn't really mean anything by that, I'm just... I meant it before, I'm really glad you did it. I know you said it didn't really work out, but did you have some fun at least?"

He laughed again, but this time there was hardly any humor in it. "Well, she wasn't you..."

I smiled a bit, but immediately following his words was a wide-eyed terror and instant regret. "Oh, I didn't... I'm sorry, I—"

"So, you did think about me on your date, huh?"

He froze then, presumably at the low, seductive drawl I blanketed over my words. His mouth slightly hung open, tongue flittering behind teeth as he tried to find the right words.

I smiled at him, and then he settled on, "Yeah. I did."

"It's not very polite to think of other girls while you're on a date, you know..." I made sure to let him know I was only teasing, and that I just wanted to know what his reaction would be.

Still, he surprised me when he said, "It's not my fault you're impossible to forget..."

He flashed me a smile then, and my stomach twisted deliciously at the little dash of confidence he'd grown in the past minute.

Maybe I could bring more out of him...

"Okay, fair... But it is your fault that you didn't come find me."

"Also fair... But... You're here now..."

Spencer inched closer to me, and I smiled, taking my bottom lip gently between my teeth before leaning in, too. "How about that..."

Our lips brushed for a second, so gentle it was like being tickled by a feather, and then he spoke again, his breath hot on my mouth. "I've... dreamt about seeing you again for so long now... Kissing you..."

"Me, too," I responded, bringing a hand down to graze the inside of his thigh. "Guess it's a good thing I'm a firm believer that dreams come true."

"Yeah," is all he said before he finally took the initiative to finally kiss me.

I sighed, melting into his touch and tightening the grip I had on his leg. Meanwhile his hands rested at my forearms, fingers dancing experimentally over my skin and making me tingle in their wake. And once I parted my lips, he took his shot and gently brought his tongue out to meet mine in a collision that quite frankly made me throb.

He'd been a decent kisser before, but... It's obvious he's had a little practice since then. Not that I'd have minded either way, but damn if this newfound experience didn't give me the most sinful idea.

I felt him whine as I pulled away, and that made everything even better.

"You wanna get out of here?" I said in the cheesiest way possible. But he didn't seem to mind.

In fact, he nodded rapidly and took a quick drink of his beer before following me out of the booth and towards the door.

***

Leading Spencer up and through the doorway of my house was probably the most electrifying 'date' experience I've had... well, ever. I'd been excited to sleep with people, sure, but with Spencer I found something greater. I wasn't entirely sure what that was, yet, but it was definitely good.

He reiterated that thought nicely once the door was closed and his hands were on my face, bringing my mouth to his again while I dropped by keys and haphazardly threw my phone and wallet on the side-table next to us in favor of gripping his shirt.

Just through his kisses I could tell how much he'd longed for this moment. I know he told me, and I'd certainly understood the feeling, but when it came down to actually acting it out in the flesh, I was much more in favor of that method of communication.

I gladly accepted his wordless confessions, through every groan and gentle graze of his tongue that he offered to me. And in return I gave him sharp tugs of his shirt and hair, conveying my urgency and the need to be closer to him.

When my legs started moving, his did, too, and we reluctantly pulled apart in favor of not tripping up the hard wooden staircase on the way to my bedroom. Though, I was thankful he was in just as much of a rush as I was, because otherwise I probably would have gotten embarrassed.

And that didn't happen easily.

I fumbled for the light switch once the door shut and our mouths connected once again, and I could have sworn it was like something out of a trashy TV show. The thought almost made me laugh, but I held it in in favor of moaning when Spencer lowered his hands to my ass and squeezed, pulling us closer together. I finally hit the light switch and then flow both of my arms to wrap around his neck and draw him even closer.

He was everywhere all at once, and it fueled me. I'd come to miss physical human interaction, but I hadn't realized how badly I craved it until he was right there, taking up all of my personal space and aiding me in creating this perfect recipe of frantic, glorious electricity.

It was going to kill me, and I would have gladly let it.

I experimentally rolled my hips forward and felt him gasp into me, and it wasn't long before he started growing hard.

Good... Now I could set the plan in motion.

"Remember what you told me?" I asked breathlessly before our heads switched sides and leaned in for more kisses.

In between them, he returned, "When?"

"The first time we met..." I trailed my lips down the column of his throat as I continued. "When you said you edged yourself..."

"O—Oh... Yeah, I remember."

"Mmm," I hummed, sucking a mark into his neck for the time being. As I did it, the grip he held on my ass tightened a bit, and I laughed lightly over his skin, slowly licking my way up to his ear. "I wanna see..."

The trembling he provided under my influence was a good sign. And then another came when he whispered. "Y—You want to see... me? Touching myself?"

"Mhmm..." I planted kisses all along his jaw before pulling back to look him in the eye, making sure he knew I was serious when I told him, "But only if that's okay with you."

He didn't even take a second to think, nodding rapidly once more and giving me a flash of a smile. "It's okay."

I hummed happily, leaning forward to give him one huge kiss, long and hard, before pulling away from him completely and nodding towards the bed. "Clothes off..."

Our hands got to work as soon as the words left my mouth.

And it wasn't until my shirt was on the ground and Spencer's eyes remained glued to my chest with trembling hands that I realized, even though we'd slept together before, our clothes had never actually come off. Tonight we were completely baring ourselves to each other, and that was somehow more intimate than the idea of taking his virginity was.

I reached out and grabbed his shirt, gently assisting him in removing it, and it must have snapped him out of wherever he'd gotten trapped because he shook his head and let out a nervous laugh, averting his eyes from me and staring at the ground.

"S–Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," I reassured, throwing his shirt to the ground next to mine and bringing his hands to rest on my bare stomach, slowly sliding them up. "I like when you look at me..."

His eyes reached mine once again, breath hitching as I guided his hands to cup my breasts over the bra. "Well, I... I like looking at you."

I kissed him again, hoping to bring forth some familiarity to our current routine, and it worked like a charm. Our movements were slow and steady, each article of clothing joining the floor one by one until we were down to nothing but my underwear.

I led him to the bed then, breaking us apart and making him sit. Now that I was taller than him, I gripped his chin in my hand and tilted his head up to look at me.

"Lay back for me?"

He scooted further along the bed until finally he leaned back, his head resting nicely on my pillows. I climbed up after him, kneeling at his feet and bringing a hand down trace lines along the inside of his thigh. Meanwhile I looked him up and down, finally getting a decent look at his full, bare form.

"Ohh, so pretty... And I bet you're even prettier when you're touching yourself... You wanna start?"

He reached out for his dick in answer, wrapping a delicate hand around it and slowly stroking up and down as he looked up at me with the stars in his eyes. "Like this?"

"However you normally do it, baby. Just relax. Make yourself feel good..."

After a slight nod, his hand picked up a little speed. He swiped his thumb over the tip to gather some precum for lubrication, but as hot as that was, I had a better idea.

"Here, let me help," I offered with a smile, leaning down and bracing my hands on his knees. I let spit gather on the end of my tongue before allowing it to drip down and land right on the tip of his cock. The sound he let out, broken and dripping with want, sent a jolt of electricity through my blood, only amplified by how wet he sounded once he started moving his hand again.

I let my eyes roam all over, taking in every heave of his chest, the veins in his arm and hand as he worked himself, the soft fluttering of his eyes as he lost himself in the moment... At the risk of sounding absolutely cheesy, it truly was a magical sight. I felt entirely lucky that I got to see him again at all, and now like this, bare and vulnerable and exuding lust while I was left to my own devices.

All that to say, I hadn't realized I was touching myself as well, until a whimper came from my mouth, my clit gently throbbing with stimulation at the hands of... well, my hand.

Upon seeing me, Spencer let out a whine of his own, picking up speed with his hand and throwing his head back onto the pillow.

"Y/N..."

He wasn't addressing me, wasn't asking me anything at all... My name on his lips was more of a declaration, like some type of chant, a string of letters and syllables formed specifically to bring him closer to the edge he knew he'd have to resist falling from.

"You getting there, baby?"

"U—Uh huh..."

"You better hold it," I drawled lowly, bringing myself into the more strict persona I wanted to bring out tonight, given that's still something he was into. "Just like you promised."

After a few more hard strokes of his hand, Spencer leg to quickly, bringing his hand to rest on his chest as his mouth let out the most delicious whines and grunts of determination to keep it all in. Without the stimulation, I noticed his dick slightly twitching over his stomach, glistening and hard...

Fuck, if it wasn't the hottest fucking thing I'd ever experienced with my own eyes and ears...

I pulled my hand out of my underwear, too, still a little shocked that I hadn't realized before that I was doing it to myself and a little turned on at the fact that it had that big of an effect on him.

"I—I would have been able to go longer, but... But you were there, and you were... And I only ever have you in my head, not right in front of me..."

It was obvious that he was probably afraid he'd let me down somehow, and that was definitely not the case. So I leaned down and dragged my hands over his lower stomach, feeling inch of skin while my mouth came down to press featherlight kisses to the base of his dick. "Spence, that was hot as fuck... You really think of me when you do that?"

"Mhm," is all he offered, currently reveling in the way my tongue darted out to explore the lines of his cock.

"I think of you, too," I admitted, pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his tip. "When I touch myself... I think about how pretty you were the first time I called you a slut... Tell me, baby, you still like that?"

"God, Y/N, yes..."

I sucked gently on his tip now, watching as he watched me, his bottom lip occupied between his teeth and his eyes on the brink of closing.

He was getting close again. So I stopped, pulling off of him with a soft pop and smiling as I crawled up his body and planted a kiss to his cheek. My legs straddled his hips, and I got close to his ear.

"Tell me, what about this... other girl you went on a date with... Did you sleep with her?"

"Um... Y—yes..."

"I'm willing to bet she didn't make you feel half as good as I do..."

"She didn't..."

I smiled against his jaw, bringing one of my hands to stroke his hair. "Was she mean to you? Did she make you her dirty little whore?"

I could feel him let out a trembling breath as he answered, "No."

"That's right," I said softly, right before switching gears and tugging on his hair, pulling back to look in his eyes. "Because you're my dirty little whore."

His cock twitched along my ass at my words, and it made me smile. But before I could speak again, he did it first.

"I'm all yours, Y/N... No one else's..."

I couldn't help it then. His words, our position, the needy look in his eyes as he confessed this to me... All of it was enough to make me snap.

So I leaned in and kissed him, hard. My hands tangled in his hair while his flew to my waist, sliding down to play with the hem of my underwear as his tongue slipped into my mouth and against my own with ease. I swallowed each whine with the greatest pleasure, my hips involuntarily grinding down and spreading the evidence of my arousal along the fabric of my panties. I wondered then if he could feel how wet I was, how much I wanted him.

I didn't have to wonder for long though, because he slipped one of his hands around front and dipped into said fabric, finding how wet I was and groaning into my mouth at the feel of it.

"You've been dying to get another try at this pussy, haven't you?" I whispered into his mouth.

Unsurprisingly, I was met with a whine in return. "Uh huh... I missed you so much..."

I ground down into his hand, nipping at his lips a little before giving my next demand.

"Then prove it."

Rather than fingering me like I expected him to, Spencer rolled over and straddled my legs, tearing my panties down and leaving me with a smile.

"I love the confidence you've grown, baby boy... Proves how dedicated you are... to being the best little slut you can be."

"Yes, Y/N," he responded, leaning down and kissing the inside of my thigh. "I wanna be good for you... Let me show you, please..."

"Show me..."

His tongue came in contact with my pussy, and it immediately sent my head flying back into the pillows, a low whine escaping my throat. He flicked it over my clit expertly a few times before going down and licking a broad strip up the entire area. Vibrations flittered along his path through his groans, and just hearing how much he enjoyed it had me clenching the sheets for stability.

"Ohh, what a good boy," I praised, bringing one of my hands to stroke his hair back. "Who's my good little whore?"

He grumbled into me, but I tugged at his hair.

"Say it."

He pulled away briefly then, still in contact with my pussy as he breathed out, "I'm your good little whore..." And then he promptly got back to work, devouring me with a hungry precision that made me laugh.

"Needy, too, I see... So desperate for that cunt..."

"Yes, " I heard him mumble into me. He repeated it a few more times, chanting it as his tongue flicked through me and tasted every last drop of my impending orgasm.

I sat up a little and held his head to me, his tongue moving at a quicker, more relentless pace. My stomach started to twist and my legs clenched, holding Spencer firmly between my legs as my hips rolled forward and met his every movement. Moans fell sweetly off my lips with every second, getting higher and higher until I finally held myself still and let the high take over. His tongue drew out one of the sharpest orgasms I'd ever had, the fervor he delivered making me see stars for a solid twenty to thirty seconds before it finally subsided and my muscles started to relax.

"Fuck," I breathed, almost whining when he removed his mouth from me and just kneeled there, studying my form as I tried to catch my breath. "Get up here," I asked more than demanded, though it might have been hard to tell what with my head spinning.

Spencer climbed over my body and I pulled his face down into a warm, wet kiss that had me tasting myself and growing wet again at the taste. I pulled away then, looking into his eyes and playing with his hair.

"I can't believe you didn't come see me sooner... Depriving me of that pretty fucking mouth..."

He kissed me again briefly, whining into my mouth before I continued. "But no... You were busy going on dates..."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said, kissing my cheek softly, over and over as his lips made their way down to my neck. "I'm so sorry, I... I wanted to see you, I just..."

"I know, I know," I cooed, closing my eyes and relishing in the feel of his lips on my skin. "But tonight you're gonna make up for lost time, got it?"

"Yes... Yes, I'll do whatever you want..."

I hummed, bringing his head back up to meet his gaze, and my thumb stroked over his bottom lip. "I want you to put that pretty cock to good use and fuck me like the desperate little slut I know you are..."

I kissed him then, gasping out once he shifted his hips and entered me slowly— I knew he was going to get to it quickly, but I guess I'd underestimated his need to please me.

The sentiment had me curling with want, more of it coming when he bottomed out inside me and trembled. Really, I could feel him shaking as he started to pull out and then back in, setting a steady pace that would surely become more erratic once I started talking to him again.

"Shit..." Spencer cursed, shifting up on his arms for more leverage as he steadily drilled into me. "I m—missed this... Missed you..."

"I know, baby, I know... I missed you, too... And you know what else?"

I drifted one of my hands down in between us, spreading out my fingers so that his cock fit nicely between them as he fucked me. The added friction of my fingers had him whining out, dropping his head down so that his ear was right by my mouth.

I whispered. "So did my pussy... So you better fuck her good..."

The sudden brutal velocity in which he slammed his hips against mine felt like a strike of lightning, and the loud groan he let out against my neck was the thunder. Everything shifted then, Spencer lifting himself up and holding onto my legs as he drilled into me at full force, his body glistening with exertion and my own succumbing to his wind.

"Yeah, that's it," I cooed through a laugh of pure pride. "That's a good fucking whore... Giving me that cock like I own it..."

"Y—You... do," he stuttered through a broken whine. He was getting close again, and I knew just the thing to do the trick.

I reached my hand up to hold his neck, not applying any pressure, but just holding as I forced his eyes down to look at me. "That's right... That slutty cock is mine... Now give it to me..."

The end of my sentence was punctuated with a sharp cry out as another orgasm tore through me. I shouted Spencer's name into the abyss as He fucked me through it and started twitching inside me, signaling his end as well. And the added warmth from his cum as it coated my insides well and truly marked me as his, despite the words we'd just exchanged.

I belonged to him just as much as he did to me, and I wondered if he knew that. If he knew just how much he inhabited my every thought.

I wanted him to know that I was practically infatuated with him.

But that conversation could wait until after we were... settled down.

He was still inside me as he slumped forward, laying his head on my chest and rubbing lines into my forearm.

"You okay?" I asked gently, combing through his hair with my fingers.

"Most definitely... Just... tired."

I smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome to stay here for the night..."

He was silent for a long while, almost so long that I thought he'd actually fallen asleep. But then he said, "Right here? With you?" and my heart soared.

"Of course."

Truthfully, I'd have let him stay forever.

But when I opened my eyes the next morning, the other side of the bed was cold, and his body was nowhere to be found.

***

Dear Y/N,

I'm sorry for leaving you alone last week. I know you must be a little hurt and confused, but if you aren't, then just forget I ever said anything.

Nonetheless, I regretted leaving you behind last time without at the very least sending you a letter, so I hope this one finds you well. After all, you have shown me experiences I never could have imagined enjoying as much as I did, so I should thank you for that.

But that's not all that this letter is for.

I also want to invite you out to dinner some time. I know this might be a little unconventional, but given how we met and also how we reunited, I figured this would be a fun, romantic way to ask you out. I understand if you don't feel that way given that I've more or less abandoned you twice now, but I promise it was all for good reason.

If you'd like to talk more, about anything I've disclosed in this letter, I've attached my phone number below, otherwise I'd love to hear back from you. I know this sounds strange, but I've been dying to know what your handwriting looks like. I bet it's pretty, like you.

Once again, I am truly sorry for leaving you behind without a word, but I want a chance to make it up to you. Please say you'll reach out. Otherwise, I know where to find you if you'd rather I make some cheesy romantic comedy—esque gesture of affection that either makes you fall in love with me or hate me.

Yours, Spencer Reid

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @big-galaxy-chaos

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

574 notes · View notes

slasherhaven · 3 years

Text

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1 HERE

People wanted a part 2, so here you go!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 2:

What had started with you and some friends trying to get a fan belt for their car and maybe some mild flirting with the man who owned the garage, had all ended in hell breaking loose. Bo had been charming and helpful, you had felt an instant connection to him, the type of connection that soulmates so often talked about.

At first you had been disappointed that he didn't seem to recognise your scars, proving he wasn't your soulmate, but now you were thankful for it. At least you weren't cosmically tied to the man who had just turned and attacked your friends.

He had shot Wade and Carly had disappeared. You had been dragged to a basement beneath the garage and left there, him promising to deal with the rest of the group you came with before returning.

Out of the people you came on the road trip, you only really knew Carly. She was the only one you would truly have to mourn but seeing Wade shot like that and knowing the others were next was undeniably traumatic.

Left alone in the basement, you tried to find a way out but there was only a heavy locked door between you and your freedom. When trying to open it failed, you settled for banging on it and shouting for help. You hoped that some other of Carly's friends would come looking for the three of you when you were gone for so long, maybe they would hear you and you could get out of here.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, hands becoming bloodied from repeatedly hitting the door, throat becoming sore from shouting. But you were finally interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. You stopped and stepped away from the door, looking up at the ceiling as the car came to a stop.

God, you hoped it was somebody from the camp...

You began to panic as you heard feet descending the stairs outside of the locked door, moving yourself further away from it. You heard the lock clicking before the door was pushed open, Bo stepping into the dimly lit basement.

"Stop banging on the fucking door" Bo snapped, clearly frustrated despite likely not having heard it if he was out in his truck...

You didn't respond but he moved closer and you noticed that he had left the door open. At this point, you had run out of options and had to take every opportunity that presented itself.

You suddenly darted towards the door, trying to pass him, but it was fruitless. Bo quickly caught you, grabbing you by the arms and standing in front of you to further block your path. You thrashed and fought against him but it was no use.

"The others?..." you asked, dread clear in your voice.

"My brother is dealing with them" Bo informed you, like it was nothing.

"...are you going to hurt me?" you were already sure of the answer, you just didn't know what he wanted from you. Why had he left you in the basement rather than just disposing of you like he had done the others.

"No. That would be, quite literally, self destructive" he chuckled darkly. He was too calm, you just knew what he had done to your friends...he had done before.

"What?" you didn't understand his comment.

Bo grabbed your wrist, his bloody hand wrapped completely around the scarring on your wrist, almost like it was instinctual. As he released your other arm, you tried to pull your hand away but his grip was too tight. With his free hand, he pulled up the sleeve his coveralls, revealing scarring that was identical to yours.

You stared at the twisted skin, processing what this meant. You had been right from the beginning when you first saw him, this was your soulmate.

"No...no" you shook your head, trying harder to pull your wrist out of his grasp. You just kept repeated the word 'no' as tears streamed from your eyes. How could you soulmate be somebody who did such awful things.

"Shhh, it's alright" Bo cooed, almost ironically. He continued to shush you as he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

Your brain told you that you should be a far away from him as possible, to kick and scream, but his embrace was strange comforting. Of course it was, you were fated to find comfort in his arms. Destined to meet him and love him. The universe wanted you both together, it was meant to be.

Maybe that was why your body began to relax as you cried into his chest, clutching at his coveralls. You hated him, you wanted to hate him, you needed to hate him. Yet, you were destined not too.

Bo kept you held against his chest and you couldn't even find it within yourself to pull away, finding comfort in the source of your pain.

Slowly, the sinking realisation settled. If you were Bo's soulmate, there was no way he was letting you leave. He had already made sure that there was nobody left to tell anyone where you were. If anyone eventually worried about your group going missing, they would assume you all ran off somewhere or eventually decide that you were the next mysterious case of missing people. It was unlikely anyone would track you down to a random, deserted, little town.

"You're home now" Bo whispered into your hair.

You sobbed at the realisation, and yet you clung tighter to him. He just held you tighter.

Bo smirked to himself as he ran a hand over your hair, only to have you shift closer to him. He knew that you hated him but he was confident that would change over time. Just from the way you were acting now, he knew he could win you over, and he knew you wouldn't be leaving him.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up" you didn't respond as he pulled away, grasping your arm before guiding you out of the basement.

He kept hold of your arm as he walked you through Ambrose, towards the house he had taken you too earlier that day. As you were walking along the road, a familiar truck pulled up beside you both, bringing you to a halt.

Lester, the man who had brought you into Ambrose in the first place, hopped out of the truck.

"Everything's cleaned up" he informed Bo before looking at you and grinning. "they're your soulmate?" Bo just nodded, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. "It must be your lucky day" Lester teased his brother, who only rolled his eyes. You frowned a little. Meeting your soulmate was meant to be a good, a lucky, day...unfortunately this had also been one of the worst days of your life.

"Go see how Vincent is doing, alright?" Bo asked, sending his younger brother away.

Lester just rolled his eyes before climbing back into his truck. He had wanted to stick around and get to know his brother's soulmate a bit more, but he understood that you were probably shaken.

Finally, you and Bo returned to his house and he led you into the kitchen, where he sat you down in a chair. You stayed silent, processing, as he washed his hands in the sink, washing the blood away.

Once his hands were clean, he wet a cloth and returned to you, pulling a chair out opposite you before sitting down.

He grasped your hands and you allowed him too, letting him pull them into his lap as he began to wipe away the blood.

"You're in shock and you're angry but you'll come around" Bo sounded sure about that but you supposed he had every right to be, you were his soulmate after all. You had to come around. "You know I can't hurt you, or let anyone else hurt you, right?" he asked and you just nodded. Of course he can't hurt you, it would only be hurting himself. Literally. At least you had that peace of mind.

You watched as he cleaned your hands, it was almost tender. A complete contrast to the cruelty he had treated the rest of your group with.

"Why did you do all this?" you asked quietly when it fell silent.

"I'll explain everything later" Bo promised, knowing he had a lot to explain and that he had to tell you everything. You would find out one way or another.

You just nodded, hanging your head. "Hey, c'mon now, the worst is over" he reassured you, lifting a hand to wipe a tear from under your eye with his thumb. "I know this probably ain't how you expected to meet your soulmate but you're gonna be just fine, darlin'" he did sound genuinely sympathetic, at least to some extent.

Removing his hand from your face, Bo stood from his chair, going to drop the now bloodied rag into the sink.

You weren't sure what came over you but you quickly grabbed his hand, stilling him. You just felt safer, the closer he was. A instinctual part of you wanted him to remain close, as if it didn't understand the nuance of the situation. He seemed a little surprised but turned to you expectantly.

"How did you get those scars?" you asked. Something you had wondered all your life.

"You still feel bad for me?" Bo asked, almost sarcastically, like he couldn't imagine you having any sympathy for him anymore.

"You were a child...I would never blame you for that" you shook your head.

"...I'll tell you later, okay? When you actually want to talk to me" Bo promised. You opened your mouth but quickly shut it again, knowing he was right. How could you talk to him about something like that after what he just did? You shouldn't have even asked.

You reluctantly released his hand, letting him dispose of the cloth.

You didn't want to admit it but you knew that eventually you would want to talk to him, that your fated connection would become much stronger than your determination to hate him for the horrible things he has done. There would come a day when you simply...didn't care anymore, and you would want him by your side despite it all.

#bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

343 notes · View notes

crysalita · 3 years

Text

Left Behind

Bo Sinclair x Reader

Word Count: 2439

Warnings: Suicide mentioned when Bo is telling the story about Trudy.

I had to admit that I never actually wanted to be here, on a road trip that is, but somehow I had managed to find myself getting an invite from Carly, who claimed there needed to be more girls. I reluctantly agreed to tag along, and so far I was regretting that poorly made decision.

I was a third wheel as I lagged behind Carly and Wade. I felt as if all I had done so far since we arrived in this town was either roll my eyes or sigh at their constant flirting. If I had of known that this is what my day was going to consist of then I would have said no in a heartbeat.

The small town we had arrived in gave me strange vibes, whether it was because the town was oddly empty even though we could hear chatter, or whether it was because of the two men that we had come across.

Bo, the man that works at the gas station, spent most of the time eyeing me down after the run in at the church, I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“So, Y/n. What did you think about Bo? He seems to have taken quite an interest in you.” Carly teased, nudging my shoulder.

We were in the gas station looking for whatever part that Wade needed.

“Don’t be stupid, he was just being friendly.” I scowled.

“Coming from a guys perspective, he definitely finds you hot.” Wade spoke up.

I sent him a glare. “Just look for that part.”

“He’s got everything, but a 15 inch. I’ll just have to use a 16 inch.” Wade grabbed a hold of the strap that he needed, but we were startled when we heard another voice.

“Are you planning on stealing that?” When I turned around, I was met with Bo leaning against the door frame, still in his suit and tie. I had to admit that the suit did look good on him.

“No, we just didn’t know how much longer you were gonna be, and you know, we didn’t wanna interrupt again.” Wade rushed out. “But I left you some money on the counter, but you don’t even really have the right size. You don’t have any 15 inches.”

“I do at the house.” Bo replied, not looking in the slightest bit like he was convinced by Wade’s constant stuttering, I couldn’t blame him though, Wade made us look more suspicious than we actually were.

“Look, I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea that we’re in here.” Carly attempted to ease the tension.

“Yeah, we already feel bad enough after interrupting the first time, we just didn’t want to do it again.” I smiled politely. In return, Bo sent me one of his own smiles and gestured for us to come out of the shed.

“No worries. That was in the past. We can move on from that.” Bo replied as he held the door open for us.

“You keep fan belts at your house?” Wade asked.

“I get things delivered there when I’m not here. Look, if you want to hold onto the 16, that’s fine by me.” Bo was looking more agitated by the minute.

“No, it’s okay.”

Bo led us outside of the gas station and we began our journey to the house that Bo lived at. My legs were already tired enough as it was from all the walking we had done, and I honestly wasn’t trying to do anymore.

“So, is it too late to sign Carly up for that beauty pageant?” Wade asked with a smirk on his face.

“Now unfortunately it is, well at least for you-” Bo turned and nodded in my direction. “-Because you have won, hands down.” I blushed slightly at his comment but shook it off quickly as I looked away.

“Thank you.” I mumbled. My gaze landed on Carly who was giving me a smug smile to which I rolled my eyes at.

“That house of Wax is pretty cool.” Wade changed the subject. This caught Bo’s attention.

“You went inside?”

“Yeah, it was unlocked.”

“I did try to tell them they shouldn’t, but they both happen to be very stubborn.” I didn’t dare step foot into the House of Wax. Knowing myself I would probably end up ruining the art in there, and I would never forgive myself if I destroyed someone’s art that they, more than likely, spent hours trying to create. I did manage to get quick look inside when Carly and Wade entered, and it truly was amazing.

“Everything seems to be unlocked ‘round here, don’t it? Thank you for having respect.” I was rewarded with another one of his smiles that really did compliment his face, although he did use quite an odd choice of words as it made him seem all the creepier.

I shared a look between the other two, who were also very creeped out.

“I did get a look inside though, when they opened the door that is, and the wax sculptures are amazing.” I complimented. I was a bit bummed out that I couldn’t see the artwork up close to see their full detail, but my conscious got to the best of me and now I was glad that I didn’t go in.

“Yeah, people used to come and see it from miles away. Trudy was the main artist.” I could imagine the amount of people that I wanted to see it, but for some reason there wasn’t any.

“What about Vincent?” Carly questioned. “I saw his name on a lot of the work.”

“One of Trudy’s boys.”

“That family must be very talented. Are any of them still around? I would love to meet them, and maybe they could help me out with some of my own art.” I commented.

“Oh- no. It’s a horrible story. Trudy’s husband, Doctor Sinclair, he was a doctor. He got his licence revoked for doing surgery’s on the side, you know, stuff that most doctors wouldn’t do. So, he moved him and Trudy out here to Ambrose, made a fresh start in medical practise and Trudy found her calm with the whole wax sculpture thing.” Bo explained as we walked past the House of Wax. “It was her dream to do something incredible here. Then she had a couple of kids-”

“What’s so horrible about that?”

“Trudy got a cyst in her brain, she just started rottin’ away.” My eyes widened as Bo continued the story. It was really starting to take a dark turn. “Couldn’t work no more, she went crazy, and it got so bad, that Doctor Sinclair had to strap her up to the bed. The whole town could hear her screaming from the house. And Doctor Sinclair was so depressed that he couldn’t save her he-” Bo creates a gun with his fingers and pretends to shoot himself in the head. “Blew his head right off.”

“That’s horrible.” I mumbled.

By now we were approaching the last house on the road, meaning this was where Bo was staying. The sky was getting darker and darker by the minute, making the situation all the more terrifying.

“Hey, uh, why don’t you three hop in, and I’ll go get that fanbelt for ya’” Bo opened the door to his car and gestured for us to hop in.

“No, we actually have some friends picking us up where the roads washed out.” Carly interrupted.

“I’ll give ya’ a lift there. It’s the least I could do then for making ya’ll wait.” Carly and I both turned to Wade who was nodding his head.

“Could I use the toilet?” I asked Bo as Carly hopped into the car.

“Yeah, of course. You said you need to use the can too, didn’t ya?” Bo faced Wade. He then proceeded to ask Carly the same question before he led us into his house.

The house was nothing less than what I expected, not that I expected much. To no surprise, it was quite messy, but I couldn’t hold that against Bo, as he most likely wasn’t expecting guests.

“So, where ya’ headed too anyway?”

“Uh, where just headed to a football game.” Wade answered.

“Bathrooms just down the hall. Let me get out of this jacket and tie, and I’ll get the fanbelt. I have another bathroom upstairs for ya’ to use.” I followed Bo up the stairs as Wade walked down the hall. I began feeling nervous as now I was left alone. “You interested in football?” Bo cocked his head to the side as he looked at me. I found myself staring a little longer than I should have, which Bo took notice of too, as his lips twitched up into a sly smirk.

“No, not really. Just here for Carly.” Bo nodded his head along with what I was saying before he popped another question, a very unexpected question.

“I take it ya’ single than?”

“What makes you think that?” I stammered.

“Well, considering those two are tied to the hip, that would most likely mean that if ya’ were seeing someone, then they’d be 'ere too.” Bo explained as he shrugged off his jacket. “And if it were me, I wouldn’t let ya’ out of my sight. Especially in a town I’ve never been in.” Bo opened a door that revealed to be the second bathroom he owned. I walked in and closed the door and instantly let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

This man was making me feel all kinds of things, and I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

I did my business and exited the bathroom to see Bo waiting outside, this time he was dressed in casual clothing, and no longer rocked a suit and tie. I had to admit that this man could certainly pull off both looks.

“Did you need help getting anything? I don’t mind helping.” I offered.

“That would be nice, thank you.” I followed behind Bo, who led us into the garage that was covered in tools and what I could only assume was car parts.

“Is it always this quiet in town?” I watched as Bo gathered some things and placed them in crate he had. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I waited where he had placed down the crate.

“Depends on the day, I guess. Sometimes it can be noisy, believe or not, and some days it’s dead silent. Today just so happens to be one of those days.” Bo mumbled.

All of a sudden the lights were cut off and everything went pitch black. I immediately put my arms out to reach for something to grab a hold of. “Bo?” I held my hand out in the direction of where Bo was last stood. “Bo? Where are you?” I felt his hand come in contact with my own.

“I’m right here, sweets.” I was thankful the lights were off so Bo couldn’t see the blush spread out across my burning face. “I don’t know what happened.” The sound of metal hitting the ground echoed throughout the garage, and then I heard the sound of the horn from outside.

“They must be waiting for us.” I muttered to no one in particular. The lights then turned on and I found myself extremely close to Bo as his chest was almost plastered to my back. “Sorry about that. That was childish.” I apologised I pulled myself away from Bo.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Ya’ get a little scared of the dark, nothing to be ashamed of.” Bo picked up the crate of tools. “I’m going to take this stuff out to the truck. Would you mind finding the wrench for me? It should be in one of the drawers over there.” Bo nodded his head in the direction of where the cupboard filled with drawers were before he exited the garage.

Everything felt scarier now that I was alone and everything around me was silent. I could hear my own breathing with how silent it was, and I hated it.

I searched through the different drawers before I found the wrench that I was looking for.

I began hearing shouting from outside and I quickly made my way outside, only to find the truck driving away and Bo standing outside, the tools scattered across the ground. “Bo, what happened?” I slowly approached Bo who was seething with anger, that was until he turned around to me. His face relaxed as he locked eyes with my own.

“Your little friends just decided to drive off with my truck. I guess they forgot that there was a third one with them.” My mood dulled at his words. How could they just leave me like that? “Hey, don’t let them get ya’ down. You don’t need 'em. Especially after the way they’ve acted today.” That didn’t change the fact that someone that I considered to be my best friend, had just left me behind to run off with her boyfriend, did I ever really mean anything to her. “Listen, I have another truck at the station, if ya’ like, we could walk down tomorrow morning and I could drive ya’ where you need to go.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.” Bo walked back inside, forgetting about the tools that were lying all around.

“You can sleep on the couch for tonight. I’ll get ya’ some blankets to keep ya’ warm. Did ya’ want something to eat?” Bo yelled out as he walked up the stairs.

“I’m good.” I called back. I sat down on the couch and stared off into nothing, this day was going horrible. I sighed as I placed my head into my hands and tiredly rubbed my eyes.

“Hey, ya’ know. I’d love to see ya’ some more. I wasn’t lying when I said ya’ were pretty. Definitely caught my eye.” Bo placed down the blankets on the end of the couch as he sat down beside me.

I found myself blushing for what felt like the millionth time today. “Really? I’d like to see you more too.” I whispered, looking everywhere but the man beside me.

Bo placed his finger on my chin and guided me to look in his direction. “Look at me when ya’ speak. I want to see ya’.”

Before I knew it, we had spent what felt like hours talking on that couch before I eventually got tired and fell asleep, and that was definitely the only good part about my day, getting to talk to Bo.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #sinclair brothers #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax x reader #slashers #slashers x reader

187 notes · View notes

samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

I Will Stay

Summary: Spencer returns home after leaving Gideon's cabin, but is haunted by the ghosts of his past and the finicky fate of his future.

Content Warnings: Spoilers for a major character death (canon in season 10), Spencer is very sad/heartbroken, but reader helps to mend him, abandonment issues galore

Author’s Note: Based on The Archer (the most Spencer song) & this is for the fantastic, lovely, and wonderful @shemarmooresfedora 1K celebration! I remember first reading Rebuilding Family on Ao3 and completely fell in love with it. I absolutely adore everything you come up with and love interacting with you on here. You can find her masterlist, here! My personal favorites are Rebuilding Family, Home, and It's A Love Story!

Prompt: “I’m still here, I always will be.”

Navigation: Masterlist | Ask Box (Send Me Feedback) | Taglist Form

I Will Stay

Spencer is numb.

He’s numb to the car lights that would normally blind his eyes. He’s numb to the cars honking for him to go faster. He’s numb to people that flip him off as they pass him angrily in their cars. All Spencer can think about is the body bag that covered his mentor’s face. Everything in the little cabin was frozen in time, like Gideon was expecting to wake up the next morning and enjoy his quiet life. Nothing, no amount of FBI training or brain tricks could ever prepare Spencer for the way his blood went cold when he walked into the cabin. He came to peace with Gideon being gone a long time ago, but watching him being wheeled out in a body bag….

Spencer grips the steering wheel, as if it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the Earth. He glances at the clock, wondering if it’s too late to show up there. Spencer thinks about what Gideon would do, he’s done that from time to time on cases where it seems like there is no end in sight. Jason Gideon is the closest thing he’ll ever get to a father. There’s something almost ironic about both of Spencer’s fathers, his biological one and figure, leaving him with nothing but a paragraph scribbled ink on crumpled piece of paper. Strangely, they are both ghosts of the man Spencer can become: consumed by his job or terrified of reality.

Spencer grits his teeth, thinking that it’s too late to bother her. It’s always too late to bother her with his problems, he thinks. The last thing that Y/N deserves is him crying on her shoulder about how his hero died all alone. Spencer has to choke back another sob, because he knows that once he lets go there’s no point of return.

He’s so tired of being left in the dust. First his father, and that blow, Spencer suspects set off a chain reaction of events in Spencer’s life. He can sit there until he’s blue in the face, trying to convince himself that if his father was actually a father, his life would have been more full. Then there was Ethan. They were so young and Spencer licked his wounds till he no longer felt empty and alone. But he soon learned that it seemed like he was fated to be alone.

And his found family, Derek, Hotch, JJ, Penelope, and Emily, all, in their own ways will leave him. Some might come back, but the scars of absence left him empty and vulnerable. Everything is temporary and nothing is forever.

And then came Y/N, in all her wonderful, sensitive, and kind glory. Spencer knew he loved Y/N from the moment she showed up at his apartment dressed in a pair worn overalls and a bandana tied in her hair. Looking at her standing there in his doorway, Spencer was breathless. He knows it’s a little absurd to fall in love so fast, but he swears that even the most hardened person on Earth would fall fast for Y/N. It’s too bad for Spencer though, it’s hard to love someone when all you’re anticipating is them leaving you.

As Spencer speeds down the highway, he thinks about the countless blind dates he’s been on before he opened his eyes and realized what was right in front of him. The dates where the people seemed to be annoyed whenever he opened his mouth or frustrated that he didn’t invite them in something a little more intimate than a nightcap. He figured those were just meaningless dates to fill the void of what could never be. Spencer considers himself to be a smart man and he’s smart enough to know that it isn’t logical for a person like Y/N to love a man as painfully broken as him. Even though she tells it to time everyday. She tells it to him when he’s exhausted and she’ll run her fingers through his hair. Her sweet affections seem to be the only thing that’s able to glue him back together again.

Spencer looks into the rearview mirror, his eyes are bloodshot from crying. He brings up a sleeve to mop up some stray tears that make their way down his cheeks. Spencer drums his fingers against his steering wheel. He closes his eyes and thinks that he never wants to open them again. He never thought that living could be so exhausting, but it sure as hell is. It’s exhausting when all you do is watch the backs of the people you love fade into the distance. It’s all consuming to know that that day when it’s Y/N’s turn is just around the corner.

Spencer pulls into the gas station, his hands are shaking and his eyes cloud up. The calm before the storm is over and the winds are here with a vengeance. Spencer mangages to dial Y/N’s number on his phone as the sobs take over his body.

“Spencer, are you alright?” Y/N asks, her voice full of concern.

“I-I need you to get me. I’m at Sunoco off Exit 18,” Spencer starts, hating the desperate way he pleads with Y/N, “I need you. Come and get me. I can’t drive anymore, I can’t do this anymore, Y/N.”

“Hey everything’s gonna be fine, darling. Stay where you are, I’m on my way,” she says, Spencer focuses on her voice. Every part of her being, every fiber that makes her her, is his anchor, but sitting there in his car, Spencer can only hear her voice. He supposes that will have to be enough.

“Spencer, I’m going to stay on the phone with you, okay? You don’t have to talk, but just please stay with me,” Y/N says. Spencer’s ears are numbing her voice and it’s like he’s underwater. He doesn’t notice the waiver in her voice. It takes seconds for his brain to think about how dim and dark the world without her would be.

***

Spencer sees the headlights pull into the parking lot. Y/N parks her car next to his, and turns off the soft music and the engine. Spencer watches her as if she’s a booey out at sea and his the only thing that’s keeping him floating in the vast emptiness of the ocean. Y/N slams her door shut and walks over to Spencer’s side of the car. For a profiler, Spencer should be able to read the expression on her face. But maybe he’s too tired, or thinking about body language pains him too much because it reminds him of his past-- of Gideon.

“Spencer, baby. I’m here now, why don’t you get out of the car,” Y/N says, she sounds like she’s talking to a wounded animal. Spencer, like always, wants to wrap himself up in her voice. She sounds safe. She sounds like home.

Spencer doesn’t say anything as he gets out of his car. Y/N doesn’t try to coax it out of him either. She just perfectly reads his body language when she wraps her arms around Spencer’s torso and squeezes. The pressure is comforting. It’s reassuring in a way that Spencer is sure he’s never quite felt before. He could stand in this parking lot for the rest of his life, as long as Y/N was there to pick up the shattered pieces of his soul.

Slowly, like she’s handling a wounded animal, Y/N takes Spencer’s soft hand into her’s. She squeezes tightly, so tightly that if Spencer’s chest didn’t feel like it was about to explode, he'd have winced in pain.

“Spence, I need your keys,” Y/N says softly, reaching into Spencer’s coat pocket for his car keys.

“You can’t leave your car here, Y/N,” Spencer says. He can’t bear to look Y/N in the eyes, because he knows, deep down, that if she’s what a broken shell of a man he is, she’d get in her car and never look back. All he’d be left with is the ghostly touch of her skin against his, like a flickering tattoo that’s just waiting to be blown out.

“Don’t worry about that, Derek and I will come and get it tomorrow. Okay, baby, please don’t worry about that. I need you to just get in your car,”

Spencer nods, not wanting to talk just yet. He knows that if he tries to talk, he’d cry and there would be no stopping him. If he cries in front of Y/N, she’d see right through him. She’d see his broken heart, his weak soul, his dark side. She’s always been the person that can see right through him, despite his attempts at patching up those peepholes. Secretly, Spencer knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, her mending hand seems to sew him back together with the softest, sweetest thread.

“Okay,” Spencer says, sounding broken and dull. He doesn’t feel like himself, yet he thinks that this must be his reality— and he’s tired of it, “thank you,” he manages as he sinks down in the passenger seat of his Volvo.

“Let’s get you home,” she says, turning the engine on as she drives out of the parking spot and back onto the highway

It’s strange driving in the passenger seat of your own car. Seeing the street and other drivers from a different perspective makes you look at things differently, you notice more and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. When you’re in the driver’s seat, you’re in control, but when you’re in the passenger's seat, you’re at the mercy of the person sitting next to you. It’s like life, you’re either gripping onto the wheel as you speed past others or digging your nails into seat cushions as others pass you.

The sound of the road and Y/N’s quiet hum mixes with each other in the background as Spencer digs his nails in the passenger seat cushion.

***

“We’re here, Spence,” Y/N says quietly, leaning over and squeezing his hand, “let’s get inside, baby,” she suggests, letting go of his hand to slide out of her seat.

Spencer plants his feet on the ground, but he feels nothing close to grounded. Everytime he tries to ground himself, he feels his head floating above the trees. Is the cure to pretend like this never happened? Will he fool himself that he’s whole if he twists his numb face into a sickly smile? His feet are on the ground, yet Spencer’s never felt further away from Earth.

She must have realized that, because the next thing Spencer feels is an arm around his. Y/N’s tight grip guides him up the three stairs to her apartment. Her blue door is a dark gray in the nighttime. Everything looks more haunted at night, Spencer thinks. He wonders, by daybreak, maybe the gray hue to the world will be lifted. Or, maybe, the world will just be a little grayer from now on.

“Do you want to shower? Maybe get changed?,” Y/N asks him, slipping off her shoes and jacket as she locks the door behind her, “you want some tea?” she asks, taking his coat and stuffing it in the messy closet that’s filled with mostly her things.

“No, no thanks,” Spencer says, “I, uh, I just want you to hold me,?” Spencer says, sounding awkward. He leaves off while I still get you, because she can’t know he’s thinking about the last time she’ll kiss him.

He’s never awkward around Y/N. The conversation usually flows without end. But it’s hard keeping a conversation going when all you’re doing is imagining the last time you’ll talk. It’s all he can think about. He wonders if it’s all in his head, if he’s cooked up some impossible scenario in his mind, but he knows it’s bound to happen. The odds, it seems, have never been in Spencer Reid’s favor.

“On the couch or the bed?�� Y/N asks, not missing a beat and looking at Spencer, not like he’s broken, but like he needs to be healed.

“The bed,” Spencer says, thinking that maybe there’s a slim chance he’ll get some sleep tonight. He knows that consistent sleep is one of the healthiest things you can do for your body, yet, for him, it continues to be the most challenging.

“Let’s go,” Y/N says, holding out her hand for Spencer to grab. He links their hands together, thinking that he never wants to let go. Her hand is soft in his and he can feel every bump and scar on her hand. He can feel the healed scab from a couple weeks ago when they made homemade pasta. He knows she can feel his scars too. Their hands are a tapestry of their experiences and joining them, without the intention to let go, is a testament to their love.

His bed seems softer than normal. Y/N must have washed his bedding because as he buries his face into his pillow he can smell the clean detergent. His hands, the have broken their link from Y/N, search for her in the bed. He can feel the bed dip as she slips in bed with him.

“I know that must have been hard, Spence. Gideon was very important to you,” Y/N says, running her hand over his back, feeling the texture of his cardigan as he breathes slowly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes, Spence, sometimes it makes you feel better to just cry it out,” Y/N tells him, her voice low in the dark bedroom. A room that once seemed so lonely, so barren isn’t anymore.

“I-he left me,” Spencer says, trying to regain the composure he lost the moment he drove up to the cabin, “just like my dad did,” Spencer tells her, his voice muffled. He moved so his face is tucked into Y/N’s neck. Her legs wrap around his; she knows the surrounding pressure is a comfort for him. It makes him feel less alone.

“Spence, it’s okay. Please don’t hold back for my sake. This is something you’ve been carrying on your shoulders for a really long time,” Y/N says, moving so she can see his face. His angular face and soulful eyes look even more haunting in the moonlight.

“I don’t want you to have to bear my burdens, Y/N. I can’t have you do that. Not for me,” Spencer says, tears streaking his face and glistening his cheeks. He’s tired of the combat and having the world move on while he’s stuck.

“Spencer, you’re not a burden. You’re not a burden, darling. You’re the best man I know. And we all got our baggage, but you’ve been dealt a hand-”

“For years and years,” Spencer starts, sounding stronger than he did before, “I hated my reflection. All I saw was the little boy that was too much for my dad to stick around. And the whole thing with Ethan left me thinking that I’d never find anyone else that would tolerate me,” Spencer tells Y/N, mumbling as he draws patterns on her arm.

“Spence-” Y/N says, seemingly ready to cut him off and kiss away all his worries.

“Please, let me finish, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I did a lot of things to spite myself. I never particularly liked myself. Gideon saw that I could be good in the BAU, so it became my life. It gets old, but it feels like I’m still 23 and I’d wake up in these crappy hotels and wonder if I was doing enough? Who’d be the next person to leave me?”

There’s a beat of silence when he stops. He knows it’s a lot for Y/N to hear, but saying it for the first time gives him a sense of comfort that he never thought he’d get.

“And then he dies. He dies alone. And I-I can’t help thinking that’s gonna be me one day. It’s gonna be me when you realize that you can do better,” Spencer says, his voice, finally, breaking.

“Spence,” Y/N says, sounding broken and lost. There aren't mirrors for voices, but if there was, hearing her would be like looking at your reflection.

“Please, just help me hold on to you,” Spencer pleads, tugging on her shirt and burying his head back into her neck. He can feel his hot tears against her skin. She leaves a quick, sweet, reassuring kiss on his head. He wishes magic was real, because if it was, he’d be all better by now.

“Of course, we don’t need to talk anymore. You can just sleep right here. I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N says, holding him tighter than he’s ever been held, “You don’t need to fight anymore, darling. You’re not alone anymore,” she whispers, kissing his forehead sweetly.

***

When Spencer wakes up the other side of the bed is cold. Y/N, at some point in the night, left him. He doesn’t want to let his mind venture into the worst, yet he can feel his neck heat and his heart tighten. Spencer slowly feels himself think that the inevitable was finally here.

Part of him, a naive, trusting part, thought that maybe he had found his chance. Yet, he stares at the calling fan, thinking he’s alone. Again. It’s probably too much for her. Spencer’s too much for any sane person to want to handle. He’s too anxious, his job is too time consuming, and there’s that looming threat that one day he’ll wake up and forget the person he loves most in the world. And that— forgetting her when she’s still here, that’s too much for him.

He doesn’t want to go into his living room that still smells like her linen cleaner. Or see their smiling faces shoved in photographs that litter the entire apartment. He can’t bear that, especially after last night.

But he does, because he knows that he has to get out of this bed at some point. With his feet on the cold floor, Spencer picks up a cardigan to wrap around his shoulders.

Strangely, he hears a noise in the living room. Lively music plays from the Alexa that Y/N bought him. Spencer turns around into the kitchen and is greeted by Y/N, who is covered in flour.

“You’re awake!” she says, wiping her hands off on her pajama pants, “I didn’t want to wake you up. You were sleeping so peacefully. You’re rather cute when you sleep-,” she says, stepping back slightly when Spencer launches himself towards her.

His mouth is dry and he knows that he can’t find the right words to say. He hates that for even a second he thought he was alone. Spencer tightens his grip on her, joining his hands behind her back as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. She smells like pancakes and fresh coffee. The music in the background still booms, but it’s nothing but a quiet murmur compared to the sound of his beating heart.

“You’re still here?” Spencer says, whispering into her shoulder. He knows he sounds pitiful, maybe even pathetic, but he needs to hear it from Y/N herself.

“I’m still here. I always will be.” Y/N says, rubbing his back soothingly, “even when we wake up halfway across the country or in separate apartments or whenever. I’m always gonna be here, Spencer,” Y/N tells him, emphasizing her point as she kisses each side of his cheek and then his forehead. He wants nothing more, but to bask in their shared love forever.

He’s far from okay, but tomorrow is another day. He’s far from okay, but when he wakes up tomorrow he’ll roll over and bump into Y/N. He’s far from okay, but he’s not alone.

He’s paper thin and fragile, but it’s okay when he has Y/N to tape him back together again. Spencer’s done with the thousand of thrown out speeches he never said to her. He’s ready to step out into the daylight holding Y/N’s hand. He sees the daylight and doesn’t want to turn back.

Spencer isn’t numb, but buzzing with hope.

***

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any feedback :)

***

Taglist (Fill this out to be added)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @spideygenius @ssacalumsg0lden @breadqueen95 @thisismynerdyself @doctcr-reid @writingintheroses @meganskane @idonotexiste @spookydrreid @strawberryspence @calm-and-doctor @measure-in-pain @saspencereid @spencerreid9 @muffin-cup

190 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 3 years

Text

The One Good Thing

Rowaelin Month, Day Two

A/N: again, I'm gonna fail all my exams because of this stupid app, I'm sure. Also, I miss the off campus boys so much I kinda made Fenrys one of them and I love the idea of the tog men as hockey players so yeah, enjoy;)

Word count: 2,581

Aelin would have killed for a second of silence.

She daydreamed of that almost noisy quiet that makes you feel every deepest thought hidden in your brain that exists only at 3 a.m., when every soul is resting and cars can't drive around the campus. And there are no children screaming at the top of their lungs or parties going on all night long.

That was what she had been promised, the flyers she'd been handed during the open days, when she had come to visit the college.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Aelin had tried so many times to ask her upstairs flatmate to hold his Twitch live streams strictly in the afternoons or mornings when she wouldn't be home, but when Fenrys Moonbeam had first opened the door to his place, the girl had known immediately that she wouldn't be able to change his mind even by paying him.

Especially since his live streams were followed by such a large audience that Aelin couldn't even begin to understand how he had managed to build an empire so big in just under a month. Surely it had something to do with the long blond hair, different from her own but just as beautiful, and the arms covered in tattoos so colourful they blind you. They had their own charm. Add to the pile the fact that he was the goalie on the hockey team, and he was the perfect mix for the guy to marry.

From what their common friends had told her, he was already earning enough to afford an off-campus home, but that he liked the comfort the college dorm gave.

A comfort that Aelin, after three years in those filthy rooms and shared bathrooms, had yet to find.

When yet another howl of celebration at yet another victory that everyone expected pierced through his floor and her ceiling, nearly drilling her eardrums, Aelin gritted her teeth so hard that for a moment she feared they might shatter.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to whisper, "Shut," failed miserably to keep her tone under control and shrieked the second word, "up!"

A booming laugh rang out upstairs and a millisecond later a message lit up her phone screen.

From Lys: Girl, maybe you should take a chill pill, I heard you on the live stream. Are you still studying?

She tossed the phone to the side, pulling her hair up and pinning it back with a pencil.

"Fuck off." she muttered under her breath.

Lysandra was one of the few in their group of friends who never missed a Fenrys broadcast. Whether it was at eleven at night or five in the morning, she was always one of the first to join in.

Aelin often wondered if she was just doing it because Fenrys was helping her sponsor her YouTube channel, but then she remembered that Lysandra would do the same for all her friends.

She got out of bed, taking all her books and notes in her arms, pen in her mouth and holding her phone between her pinky and ring fingers. She threw open the door to her room and found herself facing a wall of muscle, slamming into her roommate's chest.

Rowan's hands snapped forward and kept her from falling backwards and when Aelin looked up at his face, she almost lost her balance again.

His face was sleepy, only one eye open as he suppressed a yawn. The imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek just another sign that he had already been sleeping.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, stepping back and letting her through, "I heard you screaming. I was coming to check on you."

Aelin grimaced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head, moving a hand in mid-air, "Don't worry about it." then his gaze snapped to the ceiling as another laugh from Fenrys cut through the thin material dividing their quarters. He frowned, lowering his gaze back to her, and it was at that moment that he noticed the books in her arms.

If possible, his frown deepened even more.

He closed his eyes, gently grabbing her wrist and leaning against the wall behind him, pulling her towards him.

Aelin let herself be tugged, arranging the books so that they didn't poke at either her or him in that uncomfortable hug, but she positioned her head against his chest, letting his fingers expertly massage the nape of her neck.

"Baby." he sighed into her hair. Her toes curled.

It had only been a few weeks since they had decided to start dating, a few weeks since Rowan had confessed to having feelings for her. They had exchanged a few kisses in secret from their friends, wanting to enjoy that first phase of their very fresh relationship in privacy. They hadn't done anything too steamy yet, and Aelin had more than agreed with his decision to take it slow, but one thing Rowan hadn't held back in the slightest from the first second she'd agreed to go out with him had been the pet names he'd given her whenever they were in the safety of their dorms.

Baby was definitely her favourite.

His hands slid lower, down her back, and she looked up, resting her chin on his chest and fixing her eyes in his. His gaze softened, still clouded with sleep. "You shouldn't be studying at this hour."

Aelin grunted, smacking her forehead against his chest, "But I have a test tomorrow."

Rowan sighed again, pushing her away and taking the books from her arms. "Precisely why you should be sleeping." He walked towards the common room, speaking softly and hoping Lorcan wouldn't hear them. They both knew their roommate suspected something, but he didn't have enough worries in the world for him to actually give a shit about their possible relationship, and they also knew he would never say anything to anyone. Maybe to Elide, but neither of them would bet on it. "I left you alone tonight because you needed to rest, not stay up until morning melting your brain."

She followed him like a lost dog, dragging her feet on the ground, finally feeling that visceral fatigue get the better of her.

"I can't leave the study half done."

Rowan dropped the books on the table, turning around just in time to block her before she bumped into him again and slipped the pencil out of her mass of hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

"You're not leaving the study half done," he told her as he rubbed her arms to keep her warm, "you've spent the last five weeks studying this stuff and I'm sure you know it like the abc. You need a break." he told her.

Aelin looked up at him from under her lashes, a little annoyed that that was true, but completely distracted by the lines his fingers were drawing on her arms. She took a deep breath through her nose, puffing out her chest and thrusting out her breasts, catching the attentive gaze of her almost-boyfriend for a nanosecond.

He smiled wearily at her, "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

Aelin just nodded and took both of his hands, pulling him down onto her. Rowan squinted his eyes and placed his lips on hers in a quick, chaste kiss. She hummed in satisfaction as his hands slid under her bottom and wrapped around her thighs, pulling her up. She tied her legs around his hips and rested her head on his shoulder as Rowan made his way into their tiny flat.

He lowered her onto the bed, pulling the blankets out from under her body and laying down beside her before covering them both. Aelin moved as close to him as she could, pressing her back against his chest and her butt against his crotch, tangling their legs together.

Rowan's arm wrapped around her waist as the other slipped under her head and his hand found hers under the pillow.

The second they were settled, every bit of their bodies touching, Rowan left a soft kiss on her shoulder, pulling her even tighter against him.

She smiled weakly, in a drawling tone, "Thank you."

He hummed against her skin, "That's what I'm here for."

"Don't let me die around finals time?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Rowan chuckled softly, making her back shake, "Exactly."

Aelin tried to turn towards him, wanting to trace the pale freckles that were starting to sprout on his nose now that the days were getting longer and the sun kissed his cheek every afternoon, but his arms blocked her.

"No, it's not fair for you to be the big spoon every night. I'm fucking sick of it, I want to hold you today." he muttered, the chains of sleep already dragging him towards that blissful unconsciousness.

She huffed, stopping struggling against his grip, relaxing and feeling her muscles scream with pleasure after being tense for hours on end while she studied.

She hadn't realised she'd stayed up so long, but she was terrified of failing this last exam. If she failed it she would have to wait months before she could retake it and the idea of it was getting her down more than perhaps it should have.

She started thinking about the various questions the professors might ask her the next day, repeating the answers in her mind, closing her eyes as she thought.

"Baby," Rowan grumbled, "you're talking out loud."

She hadn't realised she was biting the cuticles around her nails until his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth. He took a deep breath, helping her turn to face him.

When she looked up at him from under her lashes, she saw the way he was fighting sleep. And she felt terribly guilty. If she was having trouble sleeping the day before an exam, that didn't mean he had to stay awake for her too.

She was about to speak, tell him to close his eyes again and let her go into the living room so she could finish going over the last few pages and then return to his room, but he put his hand on her cheek and in a soft voice asked, "What's bothering you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head, "Nothing."

He tried to hold back a yawn again, but couldn't this time and Aelin's guilt grew immensely inside her. "If you tell me right now what's wrong, I could help you fix it sooner. And we could get at least three hours of sleep before we have to go to class." he pointed out in an exhausted tone.

She blinked once, twice, searching for the right words.

"It's Fen. If he'd stop playing so late every night-"

Rowan quickly cut her off, closing his eyes, almost as if he could no longer physically stay awake. "Ace, Fenrys never really bothered you. You've always managed to study and ignore it. What is it that's bothering you?"

Aelin let go of a shaky breath, "It's nothing, really. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He only opened one eye, watching her carefully as she hid her face against his chest and wrapped her thin arms around his torso.

His hand began to slowly massage her back, "If we don't talk about this now I'll be up all night worrying."

She huffed, knowing full well how true those words were. For the love of the other, she began to ramble on about the real reason she hadn't been able to focus on the textbooks.

"I don't want to tell anyone we're together yet," she confessed under her breath.

Rowan opened both eyes then, fixing them on her and giving a small nod with his chin to keep her going.

"It's not that I don't want to tell the others," she said, referring to their closest friends, "but the second they find out, the news will become public knowledge and there are some people I really don't want to let that information get to."

He nodded, understanding perfectly who she was talking about.

"We don't have to tell anyone," he kissed her forehead, continuing to talk in that position, his lips brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, "it'll be our little secret for some time more, until we figure out how to get all the puck bunnies off our backs."

Aelin smiled, lifting her chin and kissing him.

Being the captain of the hockey team, Rowan didn't exactly go unnoticed on campus. Not many people approached him during the day, especially when Lorcan was at his side, knowing full well that they would receive nothing but a rude invitation to leave, but their friend couldn't spend his life attached to Rowan's hip, and the few times the two of them had gone out alone it had happened that a horde of fans had overwhelmed them. After those afternoons, Aelin had found herself the victim of not so nice threats from unknown numbers, as had happened to Lysandra when she had first started dating Aedion.

With Manon's help they had managed to track down the senders and Rowan had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that it was one of the girls he always partied with after the games. A girl he'd always considered a friend.

Rowan had taken all the blame, feeling responsible for those attacks on Aelin and it had taken months to convince him that he had no part in the insanity of others.

They'd started limiting the dates they went on as a pair, even when they were just friends, to prevent similar things from happening again, but Aelin felt trapped.

And she knew it was the same for Rowan.

She wished she could get a place off campus, where she could retreat with him, away from the prying eyes of the world, but it didn't seem right to bring up the topic of 'let's move in together' after not even three months of dating.

Rowan rested a hand on her cheek, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, "It'll be fine. And if anyone finds out and the threats come back, we'll do something about it."

She nodded, not entirely convinced and not at all reassured.

He knew instantly, "Aelin, whatever happens, I don't care what others think. I've waited years to finally have you. I've been on the sidelines all this time, watching you go on date after date with everyone and never with me-"

"You never asked," she mumbled in annoyance.

Rowan continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I would have preferred not to be the talk of the town all the time, but I'm not going to let public opinion take away the one good thing in my life."

She opened her mouth wide, "What about hockey?"

He shrugged, looking at her, "Hockey is just a sport."

"If Lorcan could hear you right now..." she shook her head.

"But Lorcan's not here. And you won't tell him," he made her silently promise.

They exchanged another brief kiss, before they carried on talking about all the worries she had and every word that came out of his lips acted as a sedative for her fears, killing one at a time, until she fell asleep in his arms, lulled by his soft breathing on her neck.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj

#rowaelin month #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin month day two #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic

179 notes · View notes

shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Hey buddy,” Spencer sat down in the chair next to Henry who was coloring at the table after dinner.

“Hi Uncle Spencer,” Henry replied, switching his orange marker out for a green one.

“So Josephine seemed pretty cool,” Spencer started.

He wanted to know more about his possible kid before going to Y/N. If it was true and she would let him meet her, he wanted to know all about her.

“Yeah, she sits at the same table group as me in class. One time when we were playing tag at recess, I fell and hurt my knee but she kissed it three times and said that’s what her Mommy does when she has a boo boo and it didn’t hurt anymore,” Henry explained.

“Does she talk about her Mommy a lot?” Spencer asked.

“She loves her Mommy like sooooo much. She says her Mommy says she doesn’t need a Daddy because her Mommy loves her extra,” Henry smiled.

“That’s nice,” Spencer said, getting up from the table.

Spencer was glad to hear that Y/N and Josephine seemed to be having a good life. He was just saddened that it didn’t include him even if she wasn’t his kid. He didn’t blame Y/N for not telling him if it was his. He honestly would have had no idea how he would have handled that news back then.

“And that is the difference between a stressor and a trigger. Any questions?” Spencer slid his hands into his pockets as he looked out into the audience.

The students were silent. Most of the girls appeared to be in a daze but still looking at him. Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Okay well then, I will see you next Monday. We will be covering chapter four section three of your textbook regarding victimology so I would suggest skimming it over before class,” Spencer finished.

He grabbed satchel from the desk and quickly exited the lecture hall. He had looked up the class schedules in the administration office and Y/N was also finishing a lecture at this time. Spencer was hoping to catch her before she could run away again.

He quietly slipped into the back of the lecture hall, taking a seat in the last row.

“Okay! That is it for today. Remember, we have a lab next class so closed toe shoes only and long hair tied back please. Have a great day, everyone,” you announced.

Students began to file out of the room, some coming up to your desk with questions so Spencer hung out in his seat a little longer. Once the last student had their question answered, Spencer got up and made his way to your desk as you were packing up your things. When you heard the footsteps, you looked up with a friendly smile that was immediately replaced with a grimace.

You grabbed your bag and keys and bolted. However, Spencer was expecting this and was hot on your tail.

“Y/N, please slow down. I just want to talk,” he pleaded as he chased you across the campus, garnering funny looks from people passing by.

You sighed and halted your movement. Spencer was not expecting this so he almost crashed into you. You took a step back to regain your personal space.

You looked around, noticing some people were staring.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop on campus,” you suggested.

Spencer still remembered how you took your coffee after all these years and insisted on paying even though you told him that wasn’t necessary.

You both sat down in a quiet booth in the corner. You were nervously fiddling with the coffee cup sleeve and avoiding eye contact.

“I-Is Josephine mine?” Spencer asked.

You could feel his eyes burrowing into your skull. You couldn’t lie to him, I mean you could but you wouldn’t get away with it because he was a profiler.

You finally looked up and made eye contact, “Yes, she is,” you stated.

Spencer smiled softly with tears brimming his eyes.

“Did you know before I Ieft?” Spencer sniffled.

“No, I found out after,” you responded.

Silence fell over the both of you.

“Why did you break up with me, Spencer? It all happened so fast that I never got a reason. We could have made long-distance work if you actually cared,” you spoke softly.

“Y/N please do not doubt that I cared about you. I loved you, I think I still do after all these years. I just thought you would be better off without me holding you back and not having a lot of personal time to visit you. It doesn’t mean I ever stopped thinking about you. I just thought you deserved someone better,” Spencer explained.

“Yeah well no one wanted to date the single mom in college. Guys would run for the hills when I told them,” you chucked sardonically.

“I’m sorry” is all Spencer could manage to say.

He thought he was doing Y/N a favor by breaking up with her but instead he made everything worse. He abandoned her to figure out how to take care of their child on her own.

“Can I-um...I would love to get to know her more,” Spencer stuttered.

“Spencer, I don’t know if that’s the best-” you started to say.

“Please,” Spencer begged.

You closed your eyes and exhaled.

“You can come with me to pick her up from the school if you want. You can play with her for an hour with my supervision. Under no circumstances are you to tell her that you are her father,” you demanded.

“Understood,” Spencer nodded.

You finished the last sip of your coffee and slid out of the booth, tossing it in the trash can.

“Let’s go,” you motioned for him to follow you.

Spencer scrambled out of his seat to catch up with you.

You unlocked the car and you both hopped in. Spencer noticed the backseat of your car had random toys and articles of children’s clothing scattered around and he smiled at just the thought that they belonged to his daughter.

When you pulled into the school parking lot, you turned to speak to him for the first time since he entered the car.

“You stay here,” you said as you turned the car off.

Spencer watched as you approached the line of kids and a genuine smile grew on your face. Josephine ran over to you and was immediately scooped up and littered in kisses. Josephine was dressed in overalls with a dinosaur sweater and a mini pair of converse. Y/N whispered something in her ear and she nodded as they made their way back to the car.

“Jo, you remember Spencer, Henry’s friend?” you opened the car door.

“Hi Josephine!” Spencer greeted.

Jo snuggled herself closer into your neck.

“Why are you being shy today, Baby J? Remember you already met him? He told you all those cool dino facts. Maybe he can tell you some more on the way home,” you bounced the child in your arms a few times before gently placing her into the car seat and buckling her in.

“Josephine, I remember you said stegosauruses were your favorite. Stegosaurus actually means ‘roofed lizard’ and their brains were the size of ping pong balls,” Spencer was looking at the child through the rearview mirror.

He heard the sweetest little giggle. The sound was music to his ears.

“Mommy, did you hear that? They have ping pong balls for brains,” Jo laughed.

“Yes, baby, I heard but I think Spencer said they were the size of ping pong balls, not actual ping pong balls,” you smiled as you corrected her.

Spencer turned around to face her now that Jo was feeling more comfortable.

“They also weighed about two tons which is about the same weight as this car,” Spencer smiled.

“Woah,” Jo exclaimed in awe.

“Okay! We’re home! Jo, you can play with Spencer for a little but then we have to do your ABC’s homework,” you explained as you parked the car in your driveway.

You lived in a small grayish blue house. It had a tiny gated backyard but you usually just took Jo to the park anyways. It was enough for the two of you. You moved in last year after accepting the job at Georgetown.

You unbuckled Jo and unlocked the front door with Spencer awkwardly standing behind you until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“I want to show you my room,” Jo said.

“Sure! I would love to see it,” Spencer replied as he was tugged by Jo up the stairs.

Spencer laughed when he saw Jo’s bedroom. It was decked out in everything dinosaur. Dinosaur wallpaper, bed sheets, toys, and a carpet.

“You really love dinos, don’t you?” Spencer smiled.

Jo nodded, beaming as she seemed to be very proud of her room.

“Jo, I’ve got a snack for you,” Y/N called out from downstairs.

The little kid lit up even more and ran down the stairs, leaving Spencer alone in the room. He saw a small little bookshelf with picture books, mostly about dinosaurs. It was nice to know his daughter shared his love of reading.

“You have a lovely home,” Spencer complimented as he entered the kitchen.

“Thank you, I don’t know if you want some apple slices and peanut butter too. I would offer you something else but I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping this week,” you explained.

“It’s all good. If you ever need help-” Spencer began.

“We’re quite alright,” you snapped.

A silence fell over the room, even Jo picked up on it and stopped the loud chewing of her apple.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, patting the top of Jo’s head to tell her she could continue eating, “We’ve been on our own for so long that I can sometimes get a little defensive when someone suggests I can’t handle it.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I think you have done a wonderful job raising Josephine. But, I also had a single mom so I know that sometimes there just aren’t enough hours in the day,” he replied.

“Thank you,” is all you said.

Spencer glanced at his watch, “I should get going. My hour is up. If it’s okay with you, I would love to come over again sometime,” Spencer said.

“Leave your number and I’ll text you,” you replied, handing him a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

“Bye Josephine!” Spencer smiled at the kid who had peanut butter smeared all over her face.

“Ew, Jo! Did you get any in your mouth?” you laughed.

“Bye Spencer!” she attempted to wave to him as you were wiping her face and hands with a damp paper towel.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #cm fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #reid x reader

444 notes · View notes

mrsmaybank · 3 years

Text

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding,

“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”

“Where were we?”

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.” he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?”

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.

What the FUCK?

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.

Where am I?

How’d I get here?

Why am I here?

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this?

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head.

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.

“Is that-- is that a camera?”

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”

“Was it, you know, friendly?”

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”

“What Spence? What?”

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?”

“A student.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”

“I’ll tell the team.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

496 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

dancing on dreams, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, (very) minor jungkook x reader

summary: The wrong guy shows up in your car – Jeon Jungkook. Big sigh. He’s drunk out of his mind and blabbering away. Then the right guy who you’re supposed to pick up, Min Yoongi, says Jungkook’s apartment is on the way. Might as well drop off passed-out Jungkook and make sure he’s okay. Or Yoongi could fuck you on Jungkook’s bed. That also works.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; alcohol consumption; smut (fem reader, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluff; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi; you two fuck slightly on top of and next to sleeping Jungkook, tsk tsk; technically JK is in his red My Time outfit lol

repost, originally called ‘a–dick–ted’ and then I realized tumblr doesn’t like that lmao

now playing – don’t threaten me with a good time by panic! at the disco

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

That’s what Jeon Jungkook slurred to you as he flopped into your passenger’s seat, the stench of alcohol so strong you recoiled. He was wearing a thin red blazer and his sheer black shirt was missing half the top buttons, revealing his tan, muscular pecs.

Also, he wasn’t supposed to be in your car.

“Get out.”

Jungkook hiccupped and squinted at you. “Noona! What’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here,” he continued, completely ignoring your annoyed look. “I thought you didn’t party.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s because I don’t. I’m picking someone up. Get out of my car.”

He shot two finger guns at you. “Eyy, that could be me.”

“It most certainly is not you, Jeon Jungkook. Now yeet yourself out of my car, please.”

He spread his legs, red slacks way too tight for him and his thick thighs and calves. He was wearing patent black leather oxfords as well. The only reason Jungkook bothered to look this good was to get attention. You sighed loudly. You shouldn’t have left your doors unlocked. You had been waiting outside the party house for only ten minutes. Lights and laughter boomed from the home, livening the late night. Too many drunk people were making out on the porch. It was a fucking mess. A minute ago, you were alone, playing on your phone, only to hear the door click and to see the wrong person saunter into your car.

Jungkook slapped his thighs and you flinched, looking away.

“Hey, I thought we were cool,” he grinned, tilting his head. His long black hair was half-tied back, curly from sweat. “I only tried to kiss you that one time.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, you tried to put your hands down my pants, you manwhore.”

Jungkook made a disgusted face. “Whoa, hey, no, no. I’m not a manwhore.”

Your eyebrows rose so high you thought they left your face.

“Your harem says otherwise.”

You pointed outside your car. Seven girls were clinging to the railing, staring at Jungkook in your car. Jungkook turned his head and grinned, waving. Then he abruptly shook it, turning back to you.

You gave him a deadpan stare.

He struggled to complete a full sentence. “What I’m saying is…” Five full seconds of Jungkook trying to conjure five brain cells and failing. “Yeah, okay, I kiss people and touch and stuff…” You were ready to punch him out of your car. “But I’m a…” Hiccup. He looked slightly green.

Then he opened your car door and stuck his head out, vomiting.

“Ugh, gross,” you frowned, repulsed. You looked around your car and found a half-full water bottle in your cup holder. Jungkook turned around and you shoved it into his face, shooing him.

“Rinse out your mouth before you speak to me again, animal.”

Jungkook stared at the water bottle and took it, grimacing. Then he unscrewed the cap, placed it to his lips, and took a big gulp, sloshing it in his mouth before gargling and spitting onto the grass. You looked away, shaking your head.

Ew.

Not to mention he just indirectly kissed you.

Double ew.

You heard him do it again and then noisily drink the rest, crushing the plastic with suction. You turned back to see Jungkook shoot the crumpled plastic bottle out your car.

“What the fuck? Why did you litter?” you scowled.

Jungkook looked out the window, surprised. “Oh. You’re right. Sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Jungkook’s harem rush to the fallen water bottle, claiming it triumphantly like crows to a shiny bit of aluminum foil. Okay, well… at least it wasn’t litter.

He cleared his throat, pointing at you. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m not a–”

“Dirty little fuckboy?”

His head jerked back, dark brown eyes narrowing at you.

“How do you read my mind?” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, I’m a virgin.”

You blinked at him and his half-open shirt.

“What?”

Jungkook grinned at you and gave you two thumbs up. “Eyyy.”

Your jaw dropped, but before you could say anything else, you heard a sharp tapping at the driver’s seat window. Two pointed, dark brown eyes squinted at you, frowning. Oh. The person you were actually supposed to pick up. His upper lip upturned a bit, giving him a kitten-like pout.

“Why is there vomit on the passenger’s side and why is Jeon Jungkook passed out next to you?”

You started your car and rolled your window down, grimacing at Min Yoongi. He was wearing a black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. Ah, his hair was black again. You always told him he looked best in black hair. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I left my doors unlocked for you and he just waltzed in.”

Yoongi looked past you. “He looks dead.”

You snapped your head back. “He was awake a sec–”

Jungkook was asleep, mouth open, half-slid down the passenger’s seat. Absolutely gone.

You heard Yoongi open the backseat door and slide in. He smelled like whiskey and his pale face was a bit pink, but he didn’t seem as drunk as Jungkook.

“Well, he lives in my building, so I guess we’ll just take him home,” Yoongi said absentmindedly.

You shot him a pained look. “Yoongi, why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s the moral thing to do?”

You groaned and began to drive.

“You have to help me carry him.”

“I most certainly will not. He’s your friend.”

“You will.”

Five minutes later, you and Min Yoongi were dragging Jeon Jungkook’s dead weight up three flights of stairs, absolutely hating life, and wondering why you decided to wear your heeled black ankle boots today. Sure, they weren’t insanely high, but they weren’t the right shoes for the job. Plus, your flared red miniskirt and gray cropped long-sleeve weren’t helping either. Your shirt had a cat graphic on it that said, “go away,” with two middle fingers.

You felt it described you very well, actually.

Finally, after having made it to the metal door of Jungkook’s apartment, Yoongi crammed his hand into Jungkook’s tight pants’ pockets, feeling around.

“Key’s on your side.”

“I’m not touching him any more than necessary.”

Jungkook raised his head for a half-second, eyes barely open.

“Where’d the party go?” he mumbled and then dropped his head into your shoulder. His chiseled jaw cut into your flesh, alcohol-stained breath against your cheek.

“Save me from this hell, Yoongi.”

Yoongi chuckled deeply and reached around Jungkook’s waist. The back of his hand brushed against your hip and you flinched, eyes flickering to him. His pink lips curved into a crafty smirk. You rolled your eyes and waited as Yoongi yanked Jungkook’s keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door.

“Come on, Jungkook, step please,” Yoongi murmured softly, nudging Jungkook’s legs with his own. Jungkook groaned, head lolling.

“He’s dead,” you muttered as the two of you lugged him into the apartment. “Let’s leave and let the Grim Reaper find him.”

Yoongi ignored your complaining. He lowered himself, throwing Jungkook’s full weight on you. You grunted, extremely disgruntled, as you fell against the wall, using it as support. You had to hold Jungkook’s upper arms to keep him upright, squeezing his hard biceps. His hips hit you in the lower stomach. Ow. Yoongi closed the door and locked it, meandering on where to put the keys, settling on the hook next to the door.

“I’m going to be crushed to death. Is this guy made out of rocks or something?”

Yoongi continued to ignore you, crouching down to remove Jungkook’s shoes. You sighed loudly, staring up at the ceiling. If Jungkook wasn’t Yoongi’s friend, you probably would have pushed him into his own vomit and let the she-wolves have him.

Alright, no, you wouldn’t have, but you weren’t happy about these current events either.

You jumped as you felt Yoongi’s large hand encircle your left calf. You jerked your head down to see him staring up at you, raising an eyebrow. His fingertips kneaded your bare skin slowly. You narrowed your eyes at him and he reached for the zipper of your black boot, sliding it down. One first and then the other, hand holding your calf the entire time. Then Yoongi stood up, dark brown eyes observing you with a spark of amusement. You thinned your mouth into a line and abruptly kicked your shoes off in his direction. Yoongi dodged you easily, smirking.

Jungkook shivered and slumped, his shoulder blades hitting your sternum.

“Motherfuc–”

Yoongi laughed, pink gums flashing, and grabbed Jungkook by the armpit, hauling him up.

“Let’s get him to the bed.”

“I’m ready to chuck him to the floor,” you hissed, rubbing your chest ruefully.

Using the last of your patience, Yoongi and you managed to dump Jungkook onto his bed. Thankfully Jungkook’s apartment was tiny and somewhat clean, so you didn’t have to go very far. You sat on the edge of the bed, panting, as Yoongi calmly removed Jungkook’s blazer and tossed it aside. He gently slapped Jungkook’s face, and Jungkook made a noise like a dying duck.

“Hm, he’s pretty far gone.”

“No shit, you think?” You prodded the soft navy sheets of Jungkook’s bed. They were pretty nice. Maybe you could find the tag and write down the brand later.

Yoongi adjusted the taller man so he was on his side. He looked down at him, pursing his lips.

“We should stay for a bit. Make sure he doesn’t choke.”

You groaned, slapping the bed impatiently. “Who cares, Yoongi? He did this to himself!”

Yoongi smiled, walking around the bed towards you. Jungkook started to snore. Very loudly. His dark hair was curled around his forehead, his long lashes fluttering.

“See? He’s not dead.”

You stiffened as you felt Yoongi stand in front of you, his hand tracing your cheek to turn your head to face him. Your eyes shifted from Jungkook’s sleeping form to Yoongi’s sly smirk. His slightly rounded cheeks were still tinted pink.

“Shh, don’t complain. I’m here with you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You owe me.”

He leaned down, eyes shimmering with amusement. “That I do.”

And then he kissed you, inhaling your scent and tasting like whiskey. You sighed softly into his mouth, licking his soft lips and pressing back against him. You forgot how it started, really. Perhaps a passing touch? An accidental brush of his fingers against yours? His knee leaning against your thigh for a little too long? Your hand holding onto his shoulder to grab something, maybe a little too tightly? Soon it had become a game of cat and mouse, sneaking hints of each other in innocent public gatherings. Your clothed breasts pressing against his back, trying to squeeze past. His hand brushing against your hip, fingertips tracing the waistband of your pants.

It didn’t really have a name. You two just did it, relying on eye contact, seeing the reaction of the other, spurred on by more and more dangerous actions, upping the ante. Shorter and shorter skirts, his fingers touching your bare thigh, making you shiver.

Yoongi placed a hand on your thigh now, sliding it up. You slapped yours over it, drawing back a little from his intense kiss.

“We’re on Jungkook’s bed,” you breathed, cocking your head towards the sleeping male.

Jungkook snorted in his sleep.

Yoongi grinned. “So?” His dark eyes dangerous, so dangerous. “Bet you still want it.”

He pulled his hand out from under you and put them on your knees, eyes locked with yours. You gave him a warning glare but he spread your legs, lifting your knees up and back. You fell onto your elbows, gasping as he tilted his head, licking his lips as he viewed the wet spot of your red silk panties.

“You wore the nice ones today,” he observed. “Excited to see me?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Maybe I just like being pretty for myself.”

Yoongi smirked, getting onto the bed, crawling over you. “You’re already pretty. You don’t need clothes for that.”

Your felt your ears burn at the compliment. You reached up to pull his head down so he could kiss you again, hungry, deep kisses as he lifted your hips, pressing the wet spot on his bare thigh where a massive hole had been ripped in his jeans. You moaned softly, feeling him grind into your soaking pussy.

“I love those jeans,” you whispered, grinning.

Yoongi chuckled. “Me too.”

Snoring Jungkook rolled over and his leg smacked against your elbow.

Yoongi reached down and eased your panties to one side, pressing his thigh against your bare slit. You whimpered quietly, rocking your hips into his leg, stimulating your clit. He continued to kiss you, light, feathery kisses, playing with your tongue and lips, gently nipping at your skin.

“Don’t you feel nice?” Yoongi purred. “Doing something wrong?”

You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “Isn’t that what we always do?”

Yoongi kissed down your neck, humming. Your elbow rubbed against Jungkook’s leg as Yoongi began to suck on your flesh, making your back arch. His tongue licked at your hot skin and he blew on it, sending shivers down your spine. He slid down, removing his leg, and replaced it with his hand, pressing it into your wet heat. You gasped, sliding down, arm pressed against Jungkook’s muscular thigh and calf.

“I love the sounds you make,” Yoongi whispered, breath tickling your skin. “Music to my ears.”

He slid a finger into you.

“A-ah, Yoongi…” You clutched the sheets, catching a bit of Jungkook’s pants in your grip.

He thrust it in and out of you, slow, pushing your shirt and bra up. Licking your nipples lightly, watching you tilt your head back, eyes closed. He inserted another into your tight, wet hole, feeling you clench around them, sucking him in.

“So sexy,” he mumbled around your nipple, pushing it with his tongue. “So fuckable.”

You gasped as he increased the pace, simultaneously sucking on your nipple. The wrongness of it all made it even better, pleasure mounting fast as you felt your stomach tighten, so close, Yoongi knowing all the best spots to melt you. You breathed his name, pussy tightening as you came, soaking his fingers with your slick juices, humping his hand slightly.

He thrust into you a few more times, slowly, before sliding out and placing them in his mouth, sucking off your taste. He smirked.

“Turn over.”

You exhaled before trying to roll to your right. Yoongi stopped you.

“Other way.”

You frowned. “Jungkook’s there.”

Yoongi grinned mischievously.

“Yoongi…”

He licked his lips, purring your name. So sweet, so enticing.

You let out a puff of air and lifted yourself to your elbows. You turned your head, seeing Jungkook’s head flopped to the side, mouth open. The sharp line of his jaw, his pouty pink lips, his closed eyes. Still very not elegantly snoring away, and yet you noticed the way his dark hair curled around his forehead, his tiny ponytail mussed from being asleep.

“He likes you, you know,” Yoongi said.

You snorted. “He’s upset I’m not trying to make out with him so he’s trying to touch my lady bits.”

“Same thing.”

You turned your head back, seeing Yoongi shrug out of his bomber jacket. “Did you know he’s a virgin?”

Yoongi’s dark eyebrows raised. “Oh? Interesting.”

You shrugged. “Well, that’s what he said in my car anyway. I don’t know if it’s true.”

Yoongi chuckled. “It probably is. Jungkook’s sappy like that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Needs to be the love of his life and stuff.”

You tilted your head at him. “And you?”

Yoongi smiled at you. “I don’t need that. I only need you.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Hah, right.”

Yoongi leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You think I’m lying, but you know it’s true. I always have the most fun with you.”

You scrunched your face and felt Yoongi grab your shirt, yanking it and your bra over your head. You puffed your cheeks at his insistence, but Yoongi grabbed your breasts, rubbing his thumbs onto your hardened nipples. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him back, tongue against tongue, drinking him in. He nudged you to your left.

“Come on…”

You sighed against his lips. “Alright, alright, you bad boy.”

He smirked as you rolled over, careful not to touch Jungkook’s thighs and placing your hands on either side of his hips. Your knees ended up in between his, tightly together. Jungkook’s sheer shirt had eased out of his waist, abs peeking out from the bottom. You swallowed, feeling Yoongi moving behind you, grasping your panties and pulling down.

“You shouldn’t try to fu–”

Your words turned into a gasp as Yoongi’s tongue swiped up your dripping pussy, licking it all up. Your arms trembled, cries dying in your throat as you stared at asleep Jungkook, trying not to make any sound. Yoongi began to noisily eat you out, shoving his tongue inside you and scooping out your juices, his hands spreading your ass. Your shoulders dipped, hands spreading outwards. He slid down a little, finding your sensitive bundle of nerves and licking at it roughly.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you hissed, arching your back. His tongue was too good, so good you almost forgot you were positioned above dozing Jungkook’s dick and abs. Jungkook sighed, turning his head the other way and resuming his snoring. If Yoongi’s tongue wasn’t going to make you pass out, then you were definitely going to get a heart attack if Jungkook woke up in the middle of this.

Yoongi’s mouth latched around your clit and he sucked, hard. Your shaking hips rolled into his face, raspy breaths rattling your chest as you struggled to stay silent, feeling your pussy leaking onto his cheeks, so wet you could hear it behind you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, sliding down, nipples brushing against Jungkook’s clothed thighs. “Fuck, Yoongi, I’m so fucking close…”

If Jungkook woke up now, you wouldn’t have noticed because pleasure raced up your nerves, intoxicating you, Yoongi’s expert tongue licking and sucking on your clit, so wet and wonderful and tight it was taking over you. Your hand lost balance and your righted yourself, planting it onto Jungkook’s abs. The contours of his muscle molded to your palm as your hand slid up, low moan leaving your lips as you came again, Yoongi opening his mouth and sucking it out of you. Your body shuddered, fucking his face as your rode out your orgasm, nails curling onto Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook moaned in his sleep, breathy and deep.

The sound brought you back to reality and you jerked your hand away, startled at you were touching him. Yoongi lapped at your pussy leisurely before straightening. You turned your head to see his very self-satisfied expression.

“Looks like dream Jungkook liked that,” Yoongi smirked.

You shook your fist at him. “I touched him!” you whispered angrily.

Yoongi looked unbothered. “A tragedy.”

You pushed yourself off the bed and stepped towards him, legs tangled in your panties. You irritably kicked them off before poking Yoongi in the chest. Now you were only in your red skirt.

“What was that for, huh?” you whispered heatedly.

Yoongi grinned. “Fun.”

He took you by the waist and pulled you to him, kissing you deeply. Now you could taste yourself and the whiskey, sweet and bitter, mixed with Yoongi’s lust as he led you with him. He pushed you back onto the bed, kissing you eagerly, smiling, making you smile too because Yoongi was so much fun, so naughty, and you would never know it from his usual bored expression when he was out in public.

Yoongi undid his jeans as you reached into his back pocket for his wallet, squeezing his ass as you did so. You took the condom out, still kissing him, still licking his lips, unwrapping it. He pushed his clothes down, freeing his cock and you rolled the condom down, moaning as your felt his hard length in your hands.

“Right here?” you murmured against his lips.

“Fuck yes,” Yoongi drawled. “Right next to your favorite drunkard, Jeon Jungkook.”

You laughed. “Alright, he’s annoying, but he’s not a drunkard.”

Yoongi thrust into you and you whined in pleasure, raising your hips to meet him. A playful smirk danced on his lips as he began to roll his hips into you.

“He’s not, but he is today and so I’m going to take advantage of it,” he panted, fucking you nice and slow and perfect, making sure to stretch you out, filling every part of you with his cock.

“Ah, Yoongi, you’re so good,” you gasped, tightening around him, heightening the pleasure. “Such a nice dick.”

He grinned wickedly. “Excuse me, I think you mean the best dick you’ve ever had.”

You smiled back, meeting his hips, slapping them together and making a deliciously sloppy wet smack. “You’re right, the best dick I’ve ever had.”

Jungkook rolled over a bit, exhaling serenely.

Yoongi dipped his head against your ear, moaning softly as he increased the pace, fucking you hard into Jungkook’s bed. “Think he can hear us?”

You chuckled. “You want him to hear us.”

“No,” Yoongi replied, far too mischievously to mean it. “But maybe he should, because your pussy sounds sexy as fuck.”

You sucked in a breath as Yoongi pounded you, falling back a little so your tits bounced. Yoongi’s dark eyes flickered down to you, sparkling with appreciation as you bit your lip, flicking and pulling on your nipples lightly, heightening the pleasure.

“I’m close,” he groaned. “Squeeze me harder.”

You did, tightening your core and he threw his head back, moaning silently as his hips slammed into yours, once, twice, and he came, loud smack of your hips meeting and his cock throbbing into your walls, spurting his cum into the condom and making it swell inside you. You exhaled hotly upwards, tipping your head back, Yoongi’s name drifting out of your lips in bliss.

He just felt so good.

It might not have a name, but it didn’t need one, because Yoongi’s eyes found yours and there was only ecstasy, perfect, lovely, wicked ecstasy of the mighty who had already fallen.

Jungkook woke up immensely groggily, head pounding, his sense of space and time completely and utterly fucked.

But he wasn’t dead, so… yay?

He frowned and rolled over. He was in a soft place. A bed. He breathed in deep. His bed. Nice. But he smelled something else. Jungkook squinted. He could see someone. He touched his chest, finding his shirt still on, barely. He still had his pants on. Oh, good. He didn’t accidentally lose his virginity in a drunken stupor.

He recognized that large pale hand. Jungkook frowned again, squinting harder. Yoongi-hyung? But the hand was over a pair of soft breasts, squeezing them together.

“N-noona?” Jungkook croaked.

You reached over and placed a hand over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Jungkook. You need to sleep.”

That’s true. Jungkook did need to sleep. This was probably just a dream anyway. No way Yoongi-hyung and noona were naked in his bed, tangled in his blankets. That would be nuts. Totally crazy. Jungkook drifted back into slumber, softly snoozing away.

second act. dreaming in reality a–dick–ted au

masterpost

extended playlist where did the party go by fall out boy the mighty fall by fall out boy

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you

857 notes · View notes