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zorobraun · 10 months

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ex husband ghost at your kiddo’s football game

“love, i’ll find us a seat while you wait for simon.” your boyfriend says in the most calm and mature way possible, making you nod with a little smile. you hate when he calls you ‘love’ — memories of when you and your ex husband were together start filling up your mind. you quickly shake it off, though, clearing your throat as you wait for simon’s arrival. your son grabs your hand, looking up at you with a smile.

“mom, where’s dad?” theo sounds excited to see his father, as if it was rare to see him. simon, however, is a very involved dad in your child’s life, he’s never absent; which is obviously, a very good thing. as for your relationship with him… the two of you still get along together. but at the same time, you still put up a fight with simon every now and then, just because you can’t really let go of your resentment for him — you’re not proud of it, though.

“i guess he’s here, baby.” you answer in a playful tone as you smile at simon from afar. he’s walking awkwardly towards the two of you, all alone. simon sighs quietly as he approaches theo with a big smile. “hey there, champion.” he greets his son with a messy stroke on his hair, before crouching in front of him. “you ready to win?” simon grins as the kid nod with a happy smile. “that’s my guy!” he chuckles, picking theo up as they hug tightly. you just stand there with a genuine soft smile on your lips.

“let me say hi to mom, right?” simon says to theo in a playful soft manner as he turns his gaze at you. “hi, simon.” you say with a friendly smile, staring at him. simon hugs you with his free arm, while the other is busy holding theo. he strokes your back gently, kissing your cheek. your heart misses a beat for some reason, you hate that simon has always been too touchy for your liking. “what’s up?” he grins.

“where’s your girlfriend? we were expecting her.” you say with a sincere smile, since his girlfriend is a lovely woman that treats your son very well, just like your boyfriend. “we broke up.” simon chuckles, shrugging. he doesn’t seem to care at all. “what? why? just like that?” you frown, curious. theo alternates his gaze between his mom and dad. “it didn’t work out.” he mutters in a tired tone. what he wanted to say was: if it isn’t with you, it won’t be with anyone. “i… i think i’m better off alone.” simon adds with a half hearted smile. you swallow hard, nodding softly. you sure can’t keep talking about this subject with him.

“let’s go, then. it’s time, huh?” you say with a happy smile while you stroke theo’s cheek. he kisses your cheek before wrapping his tiny arms around simon’s neck. you chuckle quietly as the three of you head to the football field, since the game’s about to start. simon puts theo on the ground with a smile. “good luck, buddy. you’re a champion either way, don’t forget that. you make me the proudest dad in the entire world. i’m sure mommy is the proudest mom in the entire world too.” simon smiles sweetly as he strokes theo’s hair. “i truly am. don’t be nervous, baby. just do what you do best.” you smile too, kissing his cheek. “i love you, dad. i love you, mom.” he replies with a chuckle before waving at the two of you as he runs into the field with the team.

“where’s your man?” simon looks at you with a side smirk, mockingly. you roll your eyes, chuckling. you both keep walking to the bleachers to meet with your boyfriend. “he’s… there.” you point at your boyfriend with a chuckle. he’s on his phone, waiting for the two of you. “of course he is.” simon mutters with an annoyed chuckle, more to himself than to you. however, you hear it anyway. you sigh heavily, ignoring his words. “hey, simon!” your boyfriend greets him with a smile and a shake of hands. “here, i saved a place for us.” he adds. simon nods with a smile as the two of you sit next to each other. you’re in the middle. and you want to die.

“i bought a bottle of water for you, love.” your boyfriend says as he caresses your thigh. you smile nervously as you grab the bottle, swallowing hard. “thanks, babe.” you mutter, drinking it instantly. simon briefly looks at your boyfriend’s hand on your thigh and he sighs quietly, licking his lips. he looks at the ground, wondering why the hell he’s still sitting next to you, when he could be sitting anywhere else. simon tries to be mature when it comes to you, but he can’t, because he knows that you were the one who asked for a divorce, when all he wanted was to be by your side and try to make things right again.

the game finally starts, making simon clear his throat and shake these awful thoughts off his mind. he focus on theo. you focus on simon’s knee touching yours. god, you feel so bad, so guilty. why are you even paying attention to simon’s knee when your boyfriend’s hand is caressing your thigh? or when your son is on the field, during an important game? you’ve never changed. it has always been about simon. it’s all for him. all you ever do, all you ever think about. you sigh heavily, but you regret doing so when both of them stare at you.

“you good, love?” your boyfriend asks with concern in his voice. simon almost passes out when he hears this stupid man calling you ‘love’ again. he sounds pathetic. simon clears his throat while looking away, trying to focus on theo’s game. “y-yeah.” you reply silently, touching your boyfriend’s thigh in a reassuring way. god, simon just wants to take your hand away from this asshole’s thigh and hold it to himself. he can’t keep doing this anymore. “i think i’ll watch the game from the grid, i can’t see theo from up here.” simon says as he avoid your eyes.

“you’re lying, but whatever.” you mutter with a dry chuckle, as you both still don’t look at each other. your boyfriend gets tense. “don’t even start, y/n.” simon replies in an annoyed tone, shaking his head impatiently. “you’re such an asshole, i swear. you just can’t have a good time in family.” you roll your eyes, you just realize now that you’re standing next to him as you two start a fight again. “oh, so he’s family now?” simon frowns in disbelief as he looks at your boyfriend briefly before looking back at you.

“i came here because i love my son and i’ll always be an example of father figure in his life. so don’t you say to me that i can’t have a good time in family. and by family, i mean us. you, me and theo, only.” simon explains with anger in his voice, even though his tone is low, he hates to make a scene in public. you sigh impatiently as you close your eyes for a second. you grab simon’s arm and lead him out of the bleachers so the two of you can argue in private. “your boyfriend will never be a part of the family, whether you like it or not.” simon pulls away from your touch just to grab your arm and push you against the wall in a very subtle, gentle way.

your face are inches away from his as you swallow hard, trying to control your breathing. it’s been months since the last time you’ve been this close to him. “you’re too close, simon.” you remind him in an annoyed whisper. he stares at your lips before locking eyes with you. “i’m sorry.” he swallows hard before pulling away. you finally can breathe normally. “listen, i understand that my boyfriend will never be a part of our family, but he’s my family too, whether you like it or not.” you say in a firm tone. simon just seems even worse now.

“you can’t be serious.” he chuckles dryly as he stares at you from a certain distance. “are you, by any chance, willing to marry him?” he frowns, crossing his arms in disbelief. “what if i am?” you bite back, crossing your arms in annoyance. “then you’re dumber than i thought.” he mocks at you with a dry smile. “you know what, y/n? just marry him, get it over with. it would save me from a lot of stress.” simon licks his lips nervously as he sighs. “we can’t keep fighting every time we see each other, simon.” you sigh defeatedly, stepping in his personal space.

“no, we can’t keep seeing each other.” he replies in a low tone, looking into your eyes. “or else… you might be my downfall.” simon adds in a sad mocking tone. “just go back to your boyfriend, y/n. he’s waiting for you.” he points at your boyfriend with his head, feeling defeated, for some reason. you look at your boyfriend’s worried face. suddenly, you get angry. it’s not his right to watch you and the father of your child argue about important stuff. or not so important.

simon gives you one last look before walking away. he regrets putting up a fight with you this time, for stupid reasons. for his jealousy. maybe he should accept the fact that you’re over him, even though he’s right where you left him. simon stares at the field with empty eyes, watching theo score a goal. he can’t help but smile, a sad one, but still. theo is what keeps him going. you watch simon from afar as your boyfriend hugs you tightly.

the game ends and you walk towards the field to see theo. you told your boyfriend to stay away from it, because you don’t want simon to lose it again. theo sees you and simon from afar and starts running towards his parents. you both crouch to give him a family hug. “i told you!” simon chuckles with a huge smile as theo keeps squeezing the both of you. “congratulations, baby.” you kiss theo’s forehead. “i saw that goal, little one. you’re a professional.” simon adds with a caring playful tone in his voice. “you and mom, together… was my motivation.” theo says with a lovely expression, sweat running down his forehead.

the statement makes simon’s smile fade away, just like yours. you both look at each other, then at theo. “we’ll always be there for you.” you say with a soft smile, caressing his cheek. “always.” simon adds, smiling weakly. you both stand up, avoiding each other’s eyes. “mom, can i sleep at dad’s house tonight?” theo looks up at you with a smile. simon chuckles quietly, squeezing theo’s hand gently. “of course, my love.” you reply with a smile, looking at simon briefly.

“i’ll miss you, though.” you say in a playful tone, caressing his hair. “i’ll bring him home tomorrow night, if that’s okay with you.” simon looks at you with an empty expression. you nod in silence. you’re both staring at each other with so much resentment. simon seems to constantly swallow all of the things he wants to say to you, just like your words keep getting stuck in your throat. “i’m sorry for earlier.” simon breaks the silence, still staring at you. theo frowns slightly. you press your lips together, holding back a cry or something among those lines.

“you know that i’ll always care for you. i’ll always want to see you happy, even without me being a part of your happiness. i’ll always love you, you’ll always be the second most important person in my life, because the first is our child.” simon adds with a sad smile as he caress your cheek softly. “s-simon, stop.” you mutter in a tremble voice as you smile sadly. “you know that i feel the same. you’ll always be a part of my life. of me. so please, let’s just… work together. let’s stop arguing over the stupidest things.” you’re tearing up and you think it’s embarassing.

“don’t cry, love.” he says in a firm but soft tone, you and theo can notice all of his love for you. when simon calls you ‘love’, it feels right. his hand is still on your face, caressing your soft cheek. “shh, it’s okay…” simon pulls you into a tight hug, stroking your back gently. theo is confused but he hates to see his mom cry, so he hugs your legs as well. “i’ve got you.” he mutters with a mournful voice as he places a sweet kiss on your forehead. you pull slightly away with a little smile as you nod weakly. simon wipes your tears with both of his thumbs as you caress his arm.

“drive safe.” you say as you look into his eyes, squeezing his arm gently. “of course. we’re gonna have a lot of fun, right?” simon looks at theo with a small smile, picking him up. “yes, mom. don’t worry.” theo reassures you with a kiss on your cheek. “stop being sad, mom. it’s okay.” he adds with a concerned look, but he has a weak smile on his lips. you chuckle quietly, pouting. “you’re just the sweetest, huh? just like your father.” you cup theo’s face, kissing his nose. simon’s heart misses a beat with your words.

“i’ll see you tomorrow. take care.” simon looks at you, smiling half heartedly. you nod, smiling back. “you too. i love you guys.” you sigh quietly, pulling your hands away from theo. simon starts walking away as they both wave playfully at you. “love you, mommy!” theo yells, making you laugh quietly. “love you more!” you yell back, blowing him a kiss. your boyfriend appears next to you after a few seconds, making you smile at him.

“dad, why didn’t you tell mom that you love her too?” theo says next to simon’s ear, since they’re already in the car. “because she knows it, buddy.” simon chuckles softly as he stares at his son with a raised eyebrow. “but… if she loves you and you love her back, why aren’t you together?” theo frowns, touching simon’s face. “because… she loves me as a friend. mommy’s in love with someone else, now.” simon tries to put it in a simple way, theo seems surprised, but he ends up nodding. “then who is your love, dad?” theo scratches the back of his neck.

“still your mom.” simon chuckles sadly. “but don’t tell her that, kiddo. it’s our secret.” he says in a playful tone as he tickles theo.

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n

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perlelune · 4 months

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Creep | Oliver Quick

Though you can’t grasp exactly what, you know something is very off with your boyfriend’s peculiar new friend.

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Stalking, Voyeurism, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Drinking, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamic

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Felix’s long digits drum over your back as he pouts, “You really brought me here just to study, babe?” His raspy, flirtatious tone tugs your lips skyward. Still, your attention doesn’t stray from your laptop screen. Sentences bleed from your fingertips at a quick-fire pace. A little under three thousand words on Bentham’s theory of utilitarianism, due by Monday. The topic isn’t exactly thrilling but you have to hand it over in time.

“If I don’t ace this essay, I’m going to fail this class,” you absently reply. Failure. The one thing you literally can’t afford right now, though you forbear sharing that particular bit with Felix. Best he perceives your single-minded determination as a core stare of your character rather than what it actually is…a necessity, one born of dire circumstances.

He takes a long drag off his cigarette. Grey smoke floats around you, smudging the words on your screen. You repress tears as your eyes burn. You wished he’d curb the nasty habit. You’ve dropped hints before.

But no one tells Felix Catton what to do. Many would kill to even breathe the same nicotin-infused air as him. Felix is the sun and everyone on campus craves to be in his orbit, eager for the slightest chance to bask in his warmth, shower in his light.

You’re no different. The day he asked you out, a little over a year ago, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Felix Catton wanted…you? It couldn’t be real.

This was the boy you held in your heart for a decade, the only one you ever had eyes for.

And while your relationship suffered its share of hardships, namely Felix’s wandering eyes, you couldn’t picture life without him at your side.

He’s your everything.

He could hurt you a thousand times and you’d forgive him each of those times.

Felix’s bare shoulder grazes yours as he states, “They won’t fail you, not with who your dad is.”

Your stomach knots with his comment. Still, you shrug, pretending away the guilt steadily gnawing your insides.

“I don’t want to get special treatment just because of my family name, Felix,” you say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Though his smile never falters, his jaw ticks. “And I do?”

The ice in his tone scatters in your veins. Immediately, you discard your homework, concerned gaze finding his.

“I’m not saying that.” When Felix doesn’t respond, panic roars inside you. You touch his exposed chest to bring his attention to you. He doesn’t move. “I didn’t say that.”

A thick blanket of silence engulfs the room and your airways constrict. It feels as if your heart is on the verge of collapse as you wait for a reaction from your boyfriend, his chestnut gaze glued to the ceiling.

His head turns to you slowly. He releases a large puff of smoke in your face. Tears rush to your eyes, filling them to the brim.

Felix shrugs.

“It sounded like you did. A little. But that’s okay.” His tone is mellow in that way that oozes displeasure. “I’m just a legacy kid getting by on his trust fund and good looks, right?”

Your mouth quakes and he bursts out a chuckle. He cups your cheek, a wide grin breaking onto his face. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”

You swallow your budding tears, wiping your eyes swiftly as Felix reaches around you to put out his cig in the ashtray.

You punch him in the chest, your own laughter bubbling out.

“You’re an arsehole.”

His grin expands. Twining your fingers with his, Felix’s tone gets softer.

“I wanted to ask…” He trails off, brown gaze clinging to yours. “Can Ollie come to the party you and Anabel are throwing tonight?”

You tilt your head in befuddlement. “Ollie?”

He traces the lines in your palm, adding absently, “Yeah, Oliver. I told you about him. Saved my arse when my bike broke.”

“Right, bike guy,” you say, remembrance hitting you. You tilt your head. “What’s he like?”

Felix sighs.

“He doesn't have too many friends. He's also had a rough upbringing. So I thought we could help him a little, you know?” You study him. However casual your boyfriend attempts to sound, you instantly recognize what this is. Yet another try at playing knight in shining armor. Whoever this Oliver guy is, he’s now become your boyfriend’s side project. His charity case possibly.

“He’s not like us so we could try to be nice.”

Not like us. You mask your discomfort with a bright smile.

About a year ago, your dad’s company filed for bankruptcy. Thankfully your scholarship still allows you to attend Oxford, but your lifestyle has drastically changed. No more shopping sprees. No more casual leisure trips to Europe. No more frivolous spendings with daddy’s black card.

The last straw was when your father emptied every account, including your trust, and left the country without as much as a goodbye text. Since those events, your mother has taken refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle. You can barely get a hold of her these days.

So not only are you penniless, you might as well be an orphan.

Felix is all you have left. You can’t risk him finding out the truth. He can never know about the part time jobs you’ve had to take to cover tuition costs or the small flat your mum had to move into after your father had to sell the family manor. He might think you’re beneath him now, working class, destitute. Or worse, he might pity you, treat you like a charity case too.

You follow the curve of his dark brow with your thumb, sweeping over his silver stud.

“Hm, sure. I can be nice,” you promise.

“I know you can,” he teases, large hands pulling on your thighs to spread you across his lap.

You squeal before scolding him, “Felix…I really really need to finish this essay.”

His eyes darken with lust as he licks his lips. He wiggles his hips, causing the bulge in his jeans to rub against your clothed center. Your breath hitches. “And I really really need you to take care of this for me.” His hoarse, desperate inflection makes your core clench. His palms run over your thighs beneath your short dress. “Just five minutes? Come on, I’ve been hard for like an hour, babe.”

He hums, already playfully fiddling with the edge of your lace panties.

“It’s your fault for wearing this fucking pink dress. You know the way your ass looks in it drives me crazy.”

You resolve crumbles beneath Felix’s heated stare. You can never tell him no. And he knows that. Releasing a deep sigh, you relent.

“Five minutes,” you offer.

He slides one finger inside your weeping core. As you draw a sharp breath, Felix beams.

“It’s all I need,” he coos.

The party’s at his height, loud music blasting from the gigantic speakers and glow sticks waving in the pitch blackness of the underground cellar. You thread your way between tipsy students, carrying two cups of beer in your hands.

As you reach the VIP corner, you hand Annabel her drink. The redhead mumbles her thanks as she bobs her head to the music. You peer at your surroundings, glad to see everyone having fun.

It’s a frank success. Pride trickles inside you at that. It’s been hard collecting pockets of free time to put it together between classes and assignments. But you did it.

Truthfully, you’re also craving some fun tonight. All you’ve done lately is studying. You miss the days when you were more carefree, unconcerned about your grades deciding the course of your future.

You glance down at your watch, scowling as you notice the time. He was supposed to be here three hours ago.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask Venetia. Your boyfriend’s sister lazily opens her eyes, a drunken smile spreading onto her lips. She shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.”

You pivot to the rest of the group.

“Have you guys seen him tonight?”

Annabel shakes her head apologetically while Farleigh brings his blunt to his mouth with a taunting smile.

“Desperate much?” he teases.

“Farleigh, come on,” Anabel chastises. She bumps her shoulder into yours, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t mind him, you know he’s always a jerk after a few drinks.”

Farleigh sighs. “Darling, you know I love you. It was just a joke.”

“A joke, right…” you mumble. Your cheeks heat though you try not to let your feelings show. Still, Farleigh’s words linger in your head. Maybe you’re being too clingy. It’s something you should mind. What if you became too needy and Felix grew bored of you? It’s not like he wouldn’t find a replacement for you in a heartbeat.

You lie back on the plush couch, sipping from your beer cup as your friends continue their chat. The conversation has long since stopped making sense, fueled by drug-inspired ramblings. Your attention is halved by your straying train of thoughts, the current whereabouts of your boyfriend still at the forefront of your brain.

Another hour flies by before Felix’s towering frame finally pierces through the crowd. A smaller boy trails behind him, his expression mirroring that of a lost puppy. He adjusts his glasses, awkwardly avoiding the drunken bodies around him. The word “Sorry” doesn’t stop pouring from his mouth.

You realize this must be Oliver. Astonishment flows through you. This isn’t the kind of company Felix traditionally keeps. But you elect to try your best to be nice and welcoming.

It’s what Felix asked of you after all. Besides, entering a new group of people cannot be easy, your tight-knit circle having known each other since kindergarten for some.

You don’t miss Anabel’s fleeting, condescending glance as she takes in Oliver though. Getting her assent to let him come had been a hassle, as she regards him as some weird, scholarship kid who’d just bring the mood down. But you insisted and she finally caved.

You trade a meaningful look with her, silently nudging her to be nice. The redhead practically rolls her eyes but squeezes her lips shut. Annabel may be one of your best friends but even you’re aware that she can be quite snobbish at times.

A sullen expression decorates your face as Felix enters the private booth.

“You’re late,” you blurt out. Farleigh snickers behind you and your cheeks flare. But everything around you fades as Felix grabs your face and presses feverish lips over yours. Your irritation melts in the heat of the passionate kiss.

When he frees your mouth, his thumb runs over your swollen bottom lip as he explains casually, “Yeah we were just hanging out and we lost track of time.”

He then introduces the shy boy.

“That’s Ollie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Likewise,’ you reply smiling.

You gauge him. Beneath the large glasses, you note the slanted blue eyes and soft, round boyish features. Felix’s friend is cute. If only he weren’t so painfully awkward.

“You should sit with us. There’s plenty of space,” you say.

Felix draws you onto his lap as he sits. Oliver takes a nervous seat next to the two of you. His eyes keep rising to Felix, as if seeking perpetual approval from your boyfriend. You’re a little perplexed. Farleigh hands Felix a spliff and he lets his hand rest on your thigh while taking a long drag from it.

“So, where are you from exactly?” you ask Oliver.

His gaze on you and Felix is sharp, somehow constantly darting to where your boyfriend’s holding you.

“Prescott,” he answers.

You mull over his response. It’s a few hours away from Oxford. You don’t know much about it. Though, based on what Felix implied about the way he grew up, you expected him to originate from a rougher area. Prescott doesn’t seem too awful.

“Prescott? They must be proud of you back home, especially your parents.”

“Probably not, actually.”

Your curiosity is piqued. “Why are you saying that?”

Oliver shrugs. His eyes find the floor before meeting yours again.

“Just don’t talk to them much,” he mutters. “They got problems and stuff…”

You slant your head. “Problems?”

Felix’s hand tightens atop your thigh. “Babe, that’s enough prying, don’t you think?”

“I’m just making conversation, trying to get to know him.”

“You’re embarrassing him, babe.”

Oliver’s blue gaze lifts to yours, his face unreadable.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, though you detect a slight edge to his timbre that wasn’t there before. A small smile tugs his lips. “I don’t mind questions. Got nothing to hide.”

You nod. An icy tickle blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward as Oliver’s intense focus doesn’t leave you. You turn away, shifting your attention to your boyfriend. Throughout the entire night, a strange sensation thunders through you, like the lightning before the storm. You can’t explain it. It’s like the world shifted off its axis, though you can’t pinpoint the reason.

Thankfully the strangeness is cast aside by Felix’s soft lips and heady, masculine scent. As the party goes on in the background, the two of you sneak away. You end up making out in a dark corner, Felix’s greedy hands slipping beneath your short skirt to grab a fistful of your ass. He pinches your flesh and you squeal.

A warm chuckle spills from his lips as he peppers tender kisses alongside your neck.

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.

You readily agree. He takes your hand and the two of you hitch a ride back to campus. The two of you giggle in the backseat of the car every time the driver berates you for getting too handsy with each other. You laugh it off all the way back to his room, lips locking as you cross the threshold. You jump to wrap your legs around Felix’s tapered waist. He purrs, his hands latching around your hips, pulling you closer. He pushes you against a wall, tracing a scorching path in the valley between your breasts. Moaning, you toss your head back.

As your eyes flutter however, you catch sight of a silhouette standing outside Felix’s window. Your heart bounces, your eyes growing saucer-wide. You gasp and leap away from Felix.

“What the fuck?” he curses as you race to the window. Chest pulsing with your quick heartbeats, you peel the window open to peek outside. The cold night air whisks inside the room. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

Your gaze wanders, searching the darkness. Confusion swells within you as you find nothing. Nothing but greenery, the same trees and grass flanking your path whenever you stroll through campus.

“There was someone outside, w-watching us,” you stammer.

Felix’s frustrated breath grazes the back of your neck. “Babe, there’s no one out there.”

You squint, dumbfounded when nothing but pitch blackness stares back at you. For a minute, you really believed someone stood there. In fact, whoever they were bore a peculiar resemblance to…

You catch yourself before finishing the thought.

Now that’s just crazy.

“But I saw…”

Felix shifts your body towards him. He cups your cheeks and rasps, “Hey. Hey, look at me. There’s no one but us here.” His lips collide with yours. He starts groping you again and you push him off you, stunned that he wants to have sex at a time like this.

“No, Felix, I-I can’t.”

He stumbles back and scoffs, “Oh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, glowering at him.

His gaze flicks over you, his expression cold. “All that teasing just to leave me high and dry?”

“Felix, wait…”

He avoids your touch, collecting his jacket from the bed when your fingers stretch towards him.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna have a smoke. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Your stomach sinks.

“O-Okay,” you say as your hand retreats to your side.

The door slams shut and you collapse on Felix’s bed. Your eyes veer to the window once more. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of someone. Maybe all those late nights writing essays and revising for the upcoming exams are slowly catching up to you, dragging you to the brink of madness.

Felix doesn’t call you the following day. Of course he doesn’t. You broke the mood. You acted weird. What reason does he have to want to be around you again? It’s bad enough you neglected him in favor of your assignments and club activities for the last few weeks. Now you can’t even enjoy the sparse time you have together.

Still, you flip your phone open all day long, longing for a word from him, any trivial, insignificant word.

You get nothing.

You gloomily drag your feet around campus and somehow find your way in one of the empty student lounges, save Farleigh and Venetia. Lying flat on the carpeted floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, the two of them are sharing a spliff. You wedge yourself between them, lying on your back also. You steal the roll from Venetia’s fingers and bring it to your lips. Your throat burns and you cough as you inhale a puff. Venetia’s lips curve upward as your eyes water.

“You gotta take it easy the first time,” she says, amusement lighting her olive orbs. “Tiny inhales.” She shows you how and you mimic her gestures. You go slower the second time and a pleasant numbness sets into your limbs. Your eyes shut. You kind of get it now. For the first time in several weeks, your mind’s almost at rest, your stormy thoughts quieted.

“You don’t smoke,” Farleigh notes near you.

“I am today.”

“You guys will be fine,” Venetia assures. “You’re always fine.”

Your eyes open, settling on the pristine white ceiling.

“I fucking hate him sometimes.” You pause, sucking a deep breath. “But I love him more.”

“Yep, that’s Felix,” they utter in unison.

You heave out a weary sigh. They grew up with him. They know better than anyone, how sweet and wonderful he can be, but also cruel and careless sometimes.

Just like the sun, Felix’s light can also burn whoever gets too close.

For a while, the three of you hang out in silence, the spliff switching hands every once in a while. Eventually, each of them rises, leaving you to your mopey thoughts.

Before taking his leave however, Farleigh whispers in your ear,

“Oh and darling, next time you wear a rental…make sure the price tag isn’t sticking out. It gives you away.”

You sit up immediately. A smile dances on the boy’s lips as he disappears. You grab the back of your neck, face warming as you feel the tag poking through the collar of your shirt.

You nearly forgot you’re due to return the designer piece in two days’ time. You can’t believe someone noticed. Though you suppose if anybody would, it’d be Farleigh. Nothing gets past his keen eye. You surmise it was a necessity with the way he grew up. Learning to read people, knowing what makes them tick, being able to spot a pretender from a mile away…which you are now.

Maybe it’s ludicrous, acting like you can still afford to live like this, like your life wasn’t turned upside down.

Still, you can’t fathom the alternative. The judgement, the pity, from your friends…from Felix. The thought alone makes you sick. The echo of Anabel’s voice as she disparaged Oliver’s background a few days ago never left you.

Dunno what Felix even sees in him. He’s some weird scholarship kid who buys his clothes at Oxfam.

That was harsh…and made you wonder what your best friend would have to say about your current situation.

So you’d rather lie, even if you sometimes look like a fool doing so.

You swallow a wide lungful, willing yourself to be calm. You repeat the mantra, again and again. You’re okay. You’re okay. You just need to keep your grades up and get through the semester.

The rest of the week is hell. Felix all but ignores you, not even sparing you a glance when he brushes past you in the university corridors. The itch to talk to him sears inside you. Unfortunately, he’s always surrounded by a swarm of people, the center of attention as usual, making approaching him near impossible. You can’t picture bringing up your relationship problems in front of so many eyes.

Besides, you don’t want to project desperation, Farleigh’s pointed gibe still resonating in your mind. You need to play it cool, wrap yourself in a disguise of indifference…despite the way you wither away every second he’s not texting you back.

The agonizing wait is made worse by him. He’s everywhere now. Wherever Felix goes, he goes too. Oliver Quick has essentially become your boyfriend’s shadow. Whether in class, at pub meetups, at parties, the quiet, nervous boy never abandons Felix’s side, always peering up at him with those round baby blues of his, a strange mix of admiration, devotion and…something else you can’t pinpoint etched on his face.

It’s sort of creepy in your opinion.

Though you’d never say it aloud. For some reason, Oliver’s his new toy. And you’re acutely aware of how Felix is with his toys. He plays with them for a while then moves on to the next fancy, shiny new one. He did it to Eddie before. Now Oliver.

And maybe it’ll be your turn one day…if you don’t do something.

It’s how you end up in front of his dorm one night, already tipsy from half a bottle of vodka. Liquid courage to get you to knock on his door. It’s pathetic. Of course it is, but you just can’t wait anymore.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shaking off your nerves. Your knuckles are less than an inch from the door when a broken whimper reaches you from the other side of Felix’s door.

Brows furrowing, you place your ear against the wood. You hear a moan this time. Deep, distinctive, masculine…familiar. Your heart stops.

You plummet to your knees, peering through the keyhole. You feel wrong for doing so, for invading Felix’s privacy like this. But guilt crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak at what you witness.

You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t looked. Almost.

Rivulets of anguish flow down your face as you watch your best friend and boyfriend lip-locked, practically swallowing each other’s faces. Their clothes aren’t off but the urgent way they’re grinding against each other is a dead giveaway as to what’s to come.

Legs trembling, you stumble back from the door. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. You’re a fool.

You drunkenly stagger through the corridors, clinging to the walls each time you almost trip over your own feet.

You wind up slumped on some stairs, too inebriated to carry yourself much further. Your lids sag as you exhale. More hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest aches, a knife piercing through your heart as the memory of Annabel and Felix lost in the throes of passion fleets across your brain. Why are you even shocked? It’s not like you never caught Anabel leering at him while she thought you weren’t looking. And it’s not like Felix is some kind of saint. Still, you can’t help but feel massively betrayed. You thought you meant more to him. You thought they wouldn’t…not with each other.

When your eyes flutter open, you find a pair of intense cobalt orbs studying you.

“Oliver…” you mumble. In your drunken stupor, you don’t bother wondering how he got here, seemingly materializing from thin hair.

He hunkers in front of you. His scent tickles your nose and it twitches. The smell of his cologne is so strikingly reminiscent of the one Felix wears. A wave of emotion engulfs you. Sobs shake your frame as you shrink against the wall.

Oliver’s gaze rises to your weeping face as he questions, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine…” you slur, wiping your snotty nose. You must look a fright, a pathetic heap of tears aimlessly wandering the university corridors.

He tilts his head. “You don’t look fine.”

You consider Oliver. He is cute, which you noticed before. And in the dimly lit stairway, his blue eyes burn even brighter. You loathe that Felix is allowed to hurt you the way he did and can just…keep on. If your friends aren’t off-limits, why would his be?

You bat your lashes at Oliver.

“You got any alcohol?”

His lips curve upward as he rasps, “Would you like me to have alcohol?”

How did you end up there? The question keeps swirling in your head as Oliver’s mouth hungrily devours yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. He trails fevered kisses down your neck and you squirm. As his teeth sink into the flesh at the crook of your neck, you let out a sharp cry. You tug on his dark locks and Oliver growls against your skin. The pain mixes with pleasure in your haze. His tongue then circles where he punctured your flesh, dragging slowly as an elated purr rises from his chest. His hard-on presses into your thigh. Alarm bells ring inside your mind.

It’s all a little too real, you realize. You got carried away. You draw back, pushing against his chest. “Oliver, wait…”

You might as well have said nothing, your words falling to unlistening ears as Oliver grabs your wrists and nudges you on the bed on your back. You peer up at him. Lust darkens his blue gaze, making him appear almost inhuman in the darkness.

Your mouth wobbles.

Pinning your wrists at your sides, Oliver kisses you senseless. Soon his lips are tracing a scorching path down your body, his hands moving to peel off your short skirt and panties.

His attentive gaze doesn’t leave yours as he sluggishly drags the tiny layer of lace down your legs.

His throat bobs when your bare cunt is exposed to him.

Biting his bottom lip, Oliver crawls his way to your core. Your legs quake. There is a strange glow in his eyes that sends chills down your back.

“Oli-” you start, but the protest dwindles in a helpless whimper when Oiver buries his head between your thighs and flicks his tongue against your bundle of nerves. Oliver’s firm hands clasp around your thighs, keeping you in place when you attempt to close your legs. He greedily eats you out, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He suckles your tender button in his mouth and your eyes roll back. Your fingers get lost in his dark mane as your back arches against the sheets. Oliver’s feverish tongue sweeps around your folds and you grow weaker, slumping against the pillow.

Quickly, stars dangle in your vision. Your fists tighten around the sheets while your legs turn to jelly. A long breath flows from your lips.

You don’t remember ever coming that hard before, not even with Felix.

Tingles are still dancing over your legs as a sliver of clarity returns to you.

Oliver’s tongue slowly moves, collecting the remnants of your essence off his lips as a look of sheer bliss decorates his face. You shiver.

You try to move off the bed. “I think that’s enough,” you say, folding your knees.

Oliver’s mouth quirks lopsidedly. “Oh, we’re nowhere near done, luv.”

Much quicker than you, Oliver slithers his way up your body and cages you beneath his frame. He steals your lips in a hungry kiss, trapping your wrists above your head. His fingers are tight enough that you just know it’ll bruise. You taste your own bittersweet flavor on his tongue. His hand creeps under your shirt, groping your tits. He plants urgent pecks on your face, dragging his teeth along your jaw.

“Oliver, please…” you beseech, shock making your voice shake.

He sinks a finger between your slick walls. Your stomach tightens.

Oliver releases your swollen lips and twists his finger inside your core. Your breath hitches.

He smiles down at you.

“But you’re gushing down there, luv. This is what you want.”

Your face warms. You hate that he’s right, that your body clings to him, making space you wish it didn’t…almost inviting his actions.

But Oliver’s mouth and hands are far too good at knowing which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering mess. Shame pools in your gut as sharp keens leave your lips.

He pumps inside you at a steady pace, his thumb teasing your heap of sensitive nerves every once in a while, pressing until you cry out. He adds another finger and the air in your lungs falters. His hands feel everywhere at once, his teeth and mouth scattering marks all over your body.

He doesn’t stop until you clench around him, soaking his hand with your juices when you shatter with a high-pitched wail.

You crash over the pillows. Your body is still coming off the high. Half-lidded eyes blindly rise to the ceiling. Oliver yanking off his shirt and discarding his pants doesn’t register, not fully, the entire bottle of vodka you emptied before making your mind slow.

He’s suddenly inside you, his thick length splitting you apart as he places his forearms besides your head.

Your lips part in a quiet shout. It feels like if you might break, your walls aching as they stretch around him.

He begins to rail into you, each of his thrusts blunt and animalistic. As if he were possessed by some beast. You know it’s ludicrous. But as the lewd clapping of your damp skin against his rises each time he buries himself balls-deep inside you…it’s how you feel. Like a wild animal somehow broke free and started rutting into you.

Your head lolls against the pillows, your thoughts going blank every time he grazes your sweet spots. Your fingernails rake down his back.

“Does Felix fuck you like this?” he rasps. He presses his chest against yours, his cock hitting an angle that draws a lengthy moan from you. A crooked smile ghosts over Oliver’s lips. “Or maybe more like this…”

His warm breath fans over your earshell.

“Tell me luv… How do our cocks compare?”

When you don’t respond, he roughly shoves inside you, his fingers cinching around your windpipe. You gasp in horror, gaping at him through tear-filled eyes.

“Answer me,” he instructs, his voice deeper than before.

“Y-You’re bigger than he is,” you sputter, struggling to get the words out with his hand squeezing your throat.

A peculiar blend of excitement and disappointment swims in his gaze when you answer.

You weakly claw at his chest, squirming beneath him. He doesn’t let you go, bending to shove his tongue in your mouth. He drags his tongue over your face, licking your hot tears. Sobs jostle your frame.

“Oliver, please,” you repeat.

He shushes you, framing your chin. His thumb follows the outline of your bottom lip, bleeding and swollen from all his rough kisses.

“Stop fighting it. Be a good girl.” He showers tender pecks across your collarbone before softly whispering against your temple, “Or I’ll tell Felix everything. That you came onto me, begging me to fuck you.” His devilish smile sears into your skin. “I’ll tell him what a good little slut you were for me.”

Your stomach drops. Oliver collects your tears with his fingertips. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, emitting a throaty moan at the taste of your despair. He then dips those same fingers in your mouth, his pelvis snapping into yours.

“It’s beautiful, how much you love him,” Oliver mumbles, growing harder inside you as a fresh wave of tears brim beneath your lashes. “You’re beautiful. I can see why he always comes back.” He rests his forehead against yours, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself when this is all done.”

The awakening in the early morning is rude, the wicked headache and ache in your limbs reminding you of last night’s events right away. Strips of sunlight sneak between the curtains, caressing your face. The usually pleasant warmth does nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Your stomach clenches as you peer at your side. Oliver’s completely naked, only wearing the silver chain always around his neck. His arm is lazily spread over your belly. You don’t dare move, fearing he’ll wake up.

What would you even say?

This is a disaster. You somehow ended up in Oliver’s room and…had sex with him.

You swallow a shaky sob as your gaze travels low. Your panties are torn, which you didn’t notice last night. At least your clothes can still be worn, lying in a messy heap at the bottom of the bed. Carefully, you writhe your way out of Oliver’s hold and grab your clothes.

You hastily put your skirt and shirt back on, trying not to cry when you realize you’re going to have to walk back to your dorm without your knickers. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

You toss a glance behind you, relieved when you find him still sleeping soundly.

You climb off the bed. Your heart leaps when the mattress squeaks as you rise.

Pulse quickening, you head for the door.

Pain radiates through your lower body when you move. You stagger the rest of the way, constantly tugging on your short skirt as you pray not to encounter any strong gust of wind on the way back.

Before leaving, you look back.

Oliver’s still sprawled on his side on the bed but his eyes are wide open now.

No word leaves his mouth as he studies you in silence.

A wide, lazy smile slowly unfans on his lips.

Your blood turns to ice. Fumbling with the doorknob, you scurry outside the door.

Once you’re outside, you slam the door closed.

You dart panicked glances around the corridor. Relief fills you when you note that it’s empty. For now. It won’t be long before students start milling about.

You shamefully return to your dorm. The entire walk back, paranoia lurks at the edge of your mind. You keep wondering if every stranger you come across can tell what you did.

And you keep hoping not to run across anyone you know.

When you reach your bedroom, you lock the door. You make a beeline for the bathroom. You need a shower, expeditiously. Oliver’s smell still lingers on you. When you catch your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, you’re shocked. You approach the mirror on unsteady legs. You crane your neck, your fingertips skimming over the two puncture wounds on your neck. A cool wave ripples down your back. It’s twisted. You feel like a character in a Polidori’s tale. Except this is reality somehow.

The one where you have to face the fact that you shagged your boyfriend’s new friend…and you’re not even entirely sure that you wanted it. Your mind throbs as you search through your memories. You changed your mind midway through. Oliver did not care.

Oliver did not care…

The ghastly realization has you keel over the toilet bowl to empty the meagre contents of your stomach. You slump to the floor and start quivering over the bathroom floor.

A sudden knock on your door has you rising from the floor.

Your heart skips a beat when you glance through the peephole.

“F-Felix?” you stutter, panic hitting a peak inside you.

His deep voice penetrates through the door.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks.

He sounds heartbroken, desperate. You almost unleash a sigh. You recognize this. You’ve been there before. This is a rollercoaster you can never get off of, the thrill when you’re high up entirely too intoxicating.

“Right now is not the best time.”

He heaves out a deep sigh. You can literally picture his kicked puppy expression, even with the door between you two. Your heartstrings flutter as you lean against the door. The craving to toss yourself in his arms wars with the sizzling betrayal still sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck. Are you still mad at me?”

Swallowing the surge of tears, you reply, “No. Just feeling a bit rough. Had a tad too much to drink last night.”

“I could take care of you…”

You nibble your lip. It’s tempting. He’s done it before. Bought you pastries and showered you with kisses and cuddles until you got better. When he wants, Felix can be the perfect boyfriend. When he wants.

“No,” you say firmly. “What do you want, Felix?”

“Can’t you just let me in, just for a minute, babe?” His pleading inflection shatters your meek fences.

“The park. In two hours,” you concede. “I got microeconomics right now, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

He’s overjoyed. You can’t bear it anymore. You race back to the bathroom as another wave of queasiness engulfs your insides.

Jittery steps lead you through the park as you rejoin him under an oak tree. You spent the last hour in class totally unfocused, your chest tight as you dreaded how this conversation would go.

“Felix,” you greet.

He wraps his arms around you. You remain still in his embrace, the distinctive scent of his cologne floating around you. You feel sick. Now it doesn’t remind you of Felix anymore.

“I really missed you.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” you mumble coolly.

His long exhale tickles your shoulder. “I know. I’m a wanker.”

“More like a selfish arsehole.”

His hold on you slackens as he draws back a little.

A look of hurt and shock covers his face. He isn’t used to you speaking to him so harshly. To him, you’ve only ever been sweet and forgiving. His brows crumple.

“I deserve that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Listen I… I almost did something awful last night.”

“What thing?” You fiddle with the scarf around your neck. It’s the sole last minute resort you found to conceal the mark decorating your throat.

Of course you know exactly what thing Felix is referring to. You saw it with your own eyes, that thing. If it weren’t for that, you may not be a complete wreck today.

“Doesn’t matter, cause I stopped. It’s not who I want to be anymore.” He cups your face, warm brown gaze diving into yours. “You make me better.”

Words leave your mouth without forethought.

“Who was it this time?”

He hesitates, his jaw tensing. But beneath your heavy stare, he finally caves in.

“It was Annabel.”

“Oh.”

The knife inside your chest twists. It’s one thing to know, to have seen. It’s another to hear it confirmed from your boyfriend’s own mouth. Last night wasn’t some dragged out nightmare; it was reality. When you turn your head, Felix pivots it back to him.

Sincerity vibrates in his tone.

“I ended up kicking her out though.” He wipes the single tear that spills down your cheek. “All I could think about was you, the entire time.” He strokes your face. “You’re the only one for me, babe. This is the last time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Fuck…”

You spot something you never heard in Felix’s voice before. Fear. And instantly, you break.

He leans his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he states.

You’re dumbstruck. Those words have crossed Felix’s lips at least a thousand times. He’s said them to so many, even strangers…but never to you.

He came close a few times, but never has he been this clear, firm, his meaning unmistakable. Butterflies swarm your stomach.

“I love you,” he repeats.

Felix plants a feverish kiss on your lips, leaving them tingling when he releases you.

“I love you too,” you whisper as your hot breaths mingle.

A sunny smile breaks out on his face.

“No more lies from now on.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you, but you ignore it, returning his smile.

“No more lies,” you echo. Guilt eats at you the second you utter the words.

Felix’s attention veers from you as he waves at someone behind you.

“Hey, Ollie,” he shouts.

The air around you plummets to a few degrees. You go still against Felix, nudging a shaky smile onto your lips.

“I need to go to class,” you chime.

You don’t even turn around, his presence alone sending your senses into alert.

Confusion scrunches Felix’s features.

“Your next class isn’t for another hour.”

You pat his chest, willing yourself to sound more cheerful than you feel.

“Just got some studying to catch up on beforehand.”

Felix’s fingers cling to yours as you try to leave.

“I’ll see you tonight at the pub?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t let you go until you give him another lengthy kiss. You’re uncomfortable, the weight of a certain somebody’s stare drilling holes into your back.

Things recede to relative normalcy, in some ways better than before, and in others worse. Better because of your relationship with Felix. It improves tremendously. He dotes on you more than he ever has, showering you with gifts and small attentions.

Worse because he’s still there, his unsettling presence the dark cloud over your rekindled romance. Each time you’re forced to be around him, there’s a knowing, smug glint dancing in his eyes, a subtle smile tugging his lips skywards. Perpetual fright eclipses your happiness, all because of Oliver Quick.

What if he told Felix everything? This was a mistake and you’re fairly sure you tried to stop it. You still have nightmares about that night, the way he held you down and wrapped his hand around your neck, stealing your air and ability to defend yourself.

You were helpless. Even letting Felix touch you is hard now, the memory of what Oliver did to you seeping through the cracks whenever you expect it least.

He branded you. And while the marks on your body may have faded, the ones engraved on your soul won’t vanish so easily.

It’s a blessing when Felix finally grows bored with him. You have no idea how it occurred. You simply know that they seem stitched at the hip for months then, suddenly, Oliver is gone. Felix shows up at group meetups without him and stops mentioning him altogether.

As if he took an eraser and wiped him from existence. Just like he did to Eddie back in the day.

You’re relieved…for an ephemeral while alas.

Oliver’s dad's abrupt passing changes everything overnight.

Once more, Felix feels the need to be Oliver’s knight in shining armor.

And once more the two of them are inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

You elect to take some distance. While you understand that Felix wants to help him, it doesn’t mean you have to. Thankfully, with summer fastly approaching, you won’t have to bear with Oliver Quick for much longer.

As usual, James and Elspeth urged you to come spend the summer at Saltburn, particularly Elspeth who couldn’t stop gushing about what a gorgeous couple you and Felix are. And while you may have tried to decline every other year, finding his family to be an awful lot, this year is different. This year, more than ever before, you long for an escape.

Even the pits of hell would be a suitable vacation spot if it meant not having to run across Oliver Quick for two whole months.

It’s a thrilling prospect. These days you can’t be around Felix as much because being around him means being around Oliver, and you just can’t do it. You look forward to having your boyfriend all to yourself. All day long, you dream about lazy afternoons by the pool and cloud-gazing in the grassy fields.

These are the balmy thoughts floating through your mind as you return to your dorm that day after classes end. A carefree smile decorates your face. You can’t wait to finish packing your suitcase. You saved every penny from your part-time job to buy a new swimsuit. And while it made a small dent in your savings, imagining Felix’s face the first time he’ll see you in it makes the tiny sacrifice worth it.

But the smile on your lips dies when you cross the door to your bedroom. Your jaw drops, the stack of books in your hands crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper. You shrink against the door, maintaining as wide a distance as the small room allows.

Oliver doesn’t even spare you a glance, casually lying on your bed with one knee bent like it’s his.

“Your taste in books. A bit of a letdown I gotta say, luv,” he says, flipping the yellowed pages of one of your favourite novels.

You lick your lips. “Look, I’m sorry about your dad…but you can’t be here.” He doesn’t leave your bed, engulfed in his reading. Your brows knit. “Get out of my room, Oliver,” you repeat, folding your arms as you approach the bed.

His cobalt gaze finally settles on you. He places the book on the night table, slow and unhurried as he gets to his feet.

Your pulse soars as he inches closer.

“Or what? You’ll scream?” he challenges. He circles you, gauging you in a way that summons a picture of a lion stalking its prey in your head. Your blood curdles when Oliver’s breath caresses your nape. “Then you’ll have to explain what I’m doing in your room and make a scene.” His voice lowers to a taunting rasp. “Do you want to make a scene?”

Your voice comes out shaky. “What do you want?”

Oliver takes a deep breath while placing his hands on your shoulders. His thumbs trace a slow path along the column of your neck. His lips graze your earshell.

“I want you to come over here, lie on this bed and spread your legs like a good girl for me.” You suck in a sharp breath. His fingers drag down your arm as he adds, “I’m feeling…peckish.”

When you don’t move, he releases a deep sigh.

“...Or I can tell Felix everything.”

Your heart starts hammering in your chest. “What?” you exhale, spinning to face him.

Oliver smiles.

“You guys are great right now. He says you’re the best you’ve ever been. No more lies. No more secrets.” Oliver bends close to you, his smile expanding. “How do you think he’ll react when I tell him that we fucked…” He pauses and you hold your breath. “And that you’ve lied to him about your family this entire year.”

Goosebumps spread across your flesh. You stumble back, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. “H-How do you know about that?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Oliver takes small steps forward, causing you to retreat until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He places his hands on each side of you. His gaze traces the motion of your neck as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“I…It’s not the right time of the month right now,” you lamely offer.

Oliver’s blue eyes rise as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Tingles bounce over your skin as he rolls your plaid skirt up your thighs.

“And you think it’s something I’m worried about?”

A moan tears from your throat when he buries two fingers inside your core without a warning.

“From now on when I tell you to spread your legs for me, you do as I say,” Oliver informs, his fingers curving inside you. You choke on your breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?” The threat laced in his tone scatters ice in your veins.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, Oliver,” he corrects.

“Yes…Oliver,” you sputter, legs tensing as his digits reach deeper inside you.

“I’m sure it’ll be a summer to remember.”

Between uneven breaths, you stammer, “W-What do you mean?”

He strokes under your thigh absently.

“Oh didn’t Felix tell you?” He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “I’ve been invited to Saltburn, as a guest.”

When Oliver leans away, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Excitement sways in his cobalt orbs as he studies your crestfallen expression.

“I know. I’m looking forward to it too.”

#saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #dark!oliver quick #dark!oliver quick x reader #dark!fic

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sundrop-writes · 22 days

Text

Careful - Chapter Five

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Five: Brick By Boring Brick

Her prince finally came to save her, and the rest you can figure out.

Summary:

The world is closing in around you. You're supposed to sit in your home and wait for a killer to come to you, and your son seems to prefer a man that you were convinced never should have been in his life in the first place.

What happened? Where did you go wrong?

The only way to find out is to reflect on the past - and to perhaps, forgive something you once thought was unforgivable.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 9,700

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder, stalking; the reader character is being victimized by a serial killer; angst - lots of emotional angst; the reader character and Spencer argue and hash things out; this chapter shows the flashback of how their relationship ended; mentions of drugs/drug use/drug addiction - there is mentions of Spencer’s drug addiction after the incident with Tobias Hankel; mentions of the reader having an eating disorder (in the past, before meeting Spencer); mentions of how pregnancy can affect eating disorders; mentions of the reader having an absent father; mentions of Spencer’s trauma/PTSD after the Hankel incident; mentions of lack of hygiene/lack of cleaning his apartment due to trauma and depression; Spencer uses his profiling skills to insult the reader; I believe that is it for this chapter.

A/N: This is it! This is the big chapter where we all find out what happened for them to break-up! I hope everyone enjoys it. (I am not gonna lie, I am really starting to mentally stall with this series, and I am really eager to work on something else lmao. So let's hope I can stick it out and get it done.)

...

Spencer considered lying to you.

He knew that you were going to have a hard time taking the news - there was no safehouse, no protective custody. Just him. Everything he had been offering before, nagging you about - it wasn’t truly being offered to you now. You would take it harder because now, in a sense, you and your son were being used as bait to lure the killer out and catch him in the act.

He considered lying to you. But he knew that it would ruin all the progress that the two of you had made.

So he made what he hoped was the right choice. He laid it all out for you as plainly as he could. They needed to catch him into the act, or he might choose a different victim. More innocent women might get hurt, their children being orphaned in the process. There would be unmarked cars stationed nearby, ready to help when Spencer called them in.

He would be there to protect you.

You still had a glisten of tears in your eyes, and he thought that you were going to panic. He was surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him again - but he embraced you tightly, feeling a certain selfish joy at having you back in his arms.

“As long as you’re here to protect me.” You sniffled quietly, burying your face in his chest once again.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He promised. “I don’t care what happens - I won’t let you out of my sight until we catch him.”

You didn’t bring up the fact that this likely meant sleeping in the same bed with Spencer. You weren’t sure if that was something you were looking forward to or dreading.

…

Spencer encouraged you to go about your usual routine - especially because he didn’t want Sebastian to be afraid or paranoid, even if such a smart boy could sense that you were upset and didn’t understand why.

Sebastian was easily distracted from the underlying tension when he realized that Spencer would be around to tuck him into bed.

He became so ripe with excitement that you thought it might be difficult for him to sleep. Even though his bed time wasn’t officially until later, he skipped his evening TV time to rush up the stairs so that Spencer would come with him. He insisted that Spencer help him pick out his pajamas, and then he wanted to show Spencer his toothbrush that played Moonlight Sonata (a toothbrush that was designed to play exactly two minutes of a song so that kids knew how long to brush their teeth).

You followed them upstairs and any efforts you made to help - showing Spencer which drawer the pjs were in and pointing to the drawer with the toothpaste in it - you were brushed off by Sebastian, who insisted that they didn’t need your help. He only wanted help from his new best friend.

Observing the whole thing truly made you wonder what the past four years of your life would have been like with Spencer there.

It caused a kind of lovesick nostalgia to flood you. Something that overtook you as you watched Spencer kneel down by the sink to get on Sebastian’s level, quietly complimenting him on his brushing technique and reminding him not to miss any spots - ready with a cloth to wipe your son’s face when he was all done.

You could only imagine how sweet he would have been with the newborn, tightly swaddled Seb; how he would have taken care of you so well after you gave birth, how perfect he would have looked with a baby in his arms. All of it left you stewing in regret, and you tried incredibly hard to hide a frown from Sebastian for the dozenth time that day.

Soon, Sebastian was rushing to jump into bed, and shouting an all too familiar request.

“Mommy, the stars!” He cheered brightly, pointing toward the lightswitch.

Spencer’s expression grew confused at this, and you felt a tingle of delight surge over the fear and anxiety for the first time in hours.

You turned off the lights, and then you walked over to a bookshelf on the far side of the room - on top of which, you had set up a star projector for Sebastian. It was something you had gotten for him as a night light when he was still very little. Even if it was an unconscious whim at the time - you couldn’t deprive Spencer’s son of the stars.

You switched it on and an array of bright stars were projected onto the ceiling, causing Spencer’s neck to crane upward in awe. Sebastian giggled in delight and flung himself backward in bed to look at it.

“He usually sleeps with this on as a night light, but he’s probably gonna want a story before he goes to sleep.” You said, motioning toward the book shelf. “You can turn the side lamp on.” You pointed to that as well. “Are you guys gonna be okay while I go get my pjs on?”

You knew that Spencer wasn’t likely to let you out of his sight - and that was exactly the look that came in his eyes; hesitant dread, clear to you even through the semi-darkness with the bright swirling lights moving across the ceiling reflected onto his face.

“Don’t lock your door.” He told you quietly. “And make sure to holler if you need anything.”

He chose his words carefully, not wanting to alarm Sebastian.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him. “I’m right down the hall.”

Then you turned to Sebastian - who was laying on his back, still admiring the stars, already looking sleepy. He’d had quite an exciting, usual day - so that wasn’t entirely surprising to you.

“I’ll come back and kiss you goodnight in a minute, okay?” You told him. “Spencer is gonna read you your goodnight story. Sounds good?”

“Yeah!” Sebastian easily agreed. “I love you, Mommy!”

That grin, those big eyes looking up at you - it really reminded you why all the pain was worth it. That you would do anything to protect him.

“I love you, too, Seb.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead, and then you moved to walk out of the room.

He added something on that caught you off guard, though, causing you to freeze in the doorway.

“Mommy?” He called out, and you turned back to look at him. “Can Spencer stay forever?”

You felt as though a fist had been jammed into your throat.

All of your bones were concrete stiff, and you couldn’t bear a single glance in Spencer’s direction - you felt his eyes on you, but you couldn’t face him.

“We - we’ll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?” You replied, having to clear your throat roughly in order to get the words out.

“Okay.” Sebastian huffed quietly, rolling into a yawn.

When you left the room, Spencer felt an intense temptation to follow you simply to pursue that subject - but he had an obligation toward his son now. Something he hadn’t had the privilege of partaking in before.

A simple bedtime story.

Spencer settled in with Sebastian and you rushed down the hallway toward your room. You closed the door behind you (not locking it) - the second that you were alone, the tears rushed out before you could stop them.

Of course your son had missed his father’s presence in his life. Even if he didn’t know that Spencer was his father - their personalities were so well-matched, and Spencer was so good with him.

How could you have been so stupid? Who were you to deny a child of his father?

You walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, and then you took your jewelry box out of your bedside table drawer - you kept it right next to the lock box that contained your gun. You opened the jewelry box and took out the star necklace that Spencer had given you, staring at the pendant in the middle of your palm with deep contemplation.

You had broken up with him for a good reason. Many good reasons. And you had known your reasons back then - and they had been life-altering. Back then - it felt like choosing between a secure life for your baby and choosing the chaos of chasing the life of your love. Back then - Spencer was so unstable. He hadn’t been fit to raise a child.

The Spencer who had swept you off your feet and treated you like a princess - the man who had given you the necklace; he was not the same person you had faced down, vicious and bitter on the night that you had broken up with him.

But that man who gave you the necklace - it felt like the same man who held you in the kitchen and promised that nothing would happen to you. It felt like the same man who looked at your son like he had hung each and every star in the sky.

You put the necklace back on with shaking hands, struggling to clasp it for a moment. You hoped that it would be an omen. The man who had given you this necklace was back, to stay - he could raise a family with you. He could be your stability. He could be what you and Seb needed.

Then, you tried to shut off your mind as you went about getting ready for bed yourself. Even though you were pretty certain that you weren’t going to sleep with all this hanging over your head, it was still nice to be in comfortable clothing; to have a routine. You did your nightly skincare (but you didn’t bother to brush your teeth, knowing that you were likely going to want some coffee soon), put on your pajamas, and uncaring if Spencer noticed - shed your bra, needing to relieve some tension from somewhere.

You left the room wearing a pair of loose, thin pajama pants and a large tee shirt with Garfield on the front of it; along with your slippers and an unzipped hoodie. You had the necklace freely untucked from the neckline of your shirt, knowing that Spencer would spot the silver chain and know what it was anyway.

He was a profiler, so he could read you like a book anyway. You hated that.

When you walked back to Sebastian’s room, you found it oddly quiet.

You were surprised that you didn’t hear the sounds of Spencer’s soothing voice reading a story, Sebastian’s laughter - his small voice egging Spencer on to read more even though it was time to go to sleep.

You stood out of view, just beyond the doorway for a moment before you decided to peer inside.

The sight inside made your chest twist with a very unique kind of pain.

Spencer was laying half on the small single bed, one of his feet on the floor to keep himself from falling off completely, his head awkwardly propped up against the headboard. Sebastian was about half a foot off the wall, cuddled up closely to Spencer, his head laid in the middle of Spencer’s chest. The Rubble plushy that Spencer had gotten him was curled up under his chin, Spencer’s arm gently petting his curly hair while he peacefully slept on top of his father for the first time in his short life.

The way Spencer looked at him was what truly broke your heart.

You knew that was the gaze of a man who had missed so much - whose own heart was breaking from all the time he had missed. Someone who was enjoying this moment more than anything in his life because he had missed out on so much of Sebastian before this.

After a few moments of you standing in the doorway silently, tears gathering in your eyes, Spencer felt your presence there. He was finally able to tear his gaze away from Sebastian’s gentle, sleeping face to look up at you.

“He said he wanted to hear ‘a new story’.” Spencer told you. “I started reciting The Old Man and The Sea from memory, and he only got about five pages in before he fell asleep.”

It didn’t surprise you that Spencer knew the novel by heart. It didn’t surprise you that his theatrical, meditative speaking voice had so easily soothed Sebastian to sleep.

You nodded, and deeply against your will - a thick tear rolled down your face.

Unable to face it any longer, you left once again - feeling like a prisoner in your own home, running from corner to corner in a poor attempt to avoid the inevitable. You rushed to the kitchen and clicked on the coffee machine before you began attending to the larger dishes from dinner - pots you had left to soak in the sink that you now wanted to scrub at in an effort to distract yourself.

Spencer felt a sense of urgency rise up in him when he saw you start crying (seemingly out of nowhere). He hated watching you run away from him for the dozenth time that day.

Any calm he had felt from watching his son fall asleep was chased out of him. But of course, he didn’t want to wake the peacefully sleeping boy, so he had to very slowly, very carefully wiggle out from underneath the sleeping boy. He adjusted Sebastian’s head onto the pillow, making sure to cover him up and tuck him in with his toy before he left the room - leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar behind him, with the star lights still circling the ceiling.

And then he practically raced downstairs to see you.

What had he done to upset you?

You wanted him to be a part of his son’s life, right? You wanted him to be a good father, right?

What the hell had he done to upset you now?

When he came into the kitchen, you were standing at the sink with your back to him, furiously scrubbing at one of the pots from dinner.

“What the hell happened?” He sighed, tired and frustrated. “What the hell could I have possibly done now?”

“You didn’t do anything.” You replied, your voice short, angry, and still choked off by tears.

In truth, it was your most honest view of the situation.

This made Spencer spike with an even deeper frustration.

He thought that the two of you had been making progress. But now, you were cutting him off again. You were trying to placate him with lies when he so badly wanted the truth. He wanted to air it all out. The two of you needed it out - out it in the open instead of festering away like a damn secret.

“No, no.” He pressed, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, swarming with bitterness. “Come on, I must have done something.”

You remained silent, letting out a single sniffle as you continued to scrub - the only sound going through the kitchen being the sloshing of water through the sink and the bubbling of the coffee maker.

“Trust me, I know how it is.” Spencer sighed. “I don’t open up enough, I don’t trust you… it’s always my fault.”

In the months after the break-up, he had done a lot of thinking. He had gone over it in his head again and again - he had picked apart his own flaws in his mind, wondering how he could have been better for you.

“That’s just it.” You replied, your throat closing up due to your own tears. “You’re perfect.” You sniffled again. “You didn’t do anything.”

This left Spencer silent and confused - wondering for a moment if you were being sarcastic.

You put down the sponge and grabbed a dry dish cloth off to the side, drying your hands as you turned back to Spencer.

When he caught your eyes, he knew then that it wasn’t sarcasm. You were swimming in sadness, turmoil, but most of what he could see was guilt. You didn’t blame him for any of this.

“Y/N-”

“All day, you’ve been perfect.” You huffed out, cutting him off. “I’ll be honest, at first, I thought it was an act. I thought you were just playing at it, trying to show me that you could be a good father to get in my good graces. To maybe get me back.”

Spencer was hurt by this. But with the way you had started off the sentence, that didn’t seem to be your opinion now. He remained silent, letting you continue to get the full stream of your thoughts out.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to keep it up. I thought something would happen. I thought you’d slip… but then, I realized: you can’t fake it. You’re not faking it. The way you are… you’ve changed. You really have changed.” You sighed.

He was glad to hear that, but he knew that there was something else. Now, he was determined to find out why you were upset.

“Look-”

“Did I hallucinate the whole thing?” You spoke suddenly. “I just feel so crazy… Did I really break up with you for no fucking reason?”

This stung Spencer.

He knew that there had been a myriad of good reasons at the time. But something he had gone over in his mind, stewing with regret over and over again - he had never wanted it to be a break-up. He had wished over and over again that the two of you could have worked on things instead of just ending them so suddenly.

“You did have your reasons back then.” Spencer admitted quietly. “I know that you did.” Then, after a moment, he felt the need to add on: “I… I know they were good reasons. I don’t blame you for wanting to end the relationship.”

He chose his words carefully in that sense.

He fully understood ending the relationship. That was your choice. But the one thing that still plagued him-

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?” He asked, entirely exasperated.

It was as though he had flipped the knife around, plunging it into you this time.

You remained stunned and silent, not prepared to be confronted by the question, and Spencer, utterly hurt, continued on.

“You stole four years of his life from me! Four years!” He shouted, his words whipping at you in a way that made you flinch. “And you were never planning on telling me! You were gonna let me miss everything! His first day of school, his college graduation, his wedding! You never wanted me in his life! You-!”

“Because you weren’t good enough for him!” You shouted back, utterly defensive.

You hated that you couldn’t take it back - you hated the pain that flooded across Spencer’s features.

“Not back then.” You added on, knowing that it was barely a worthy addendum. “The man I left standing in that apartment wasn’t someone I wanted to raise a child with-”

“How is that any excuse?” Spencer spit back bitterly.

You glared at him.

You had your reasons then. It felt like you were on trial, now, though. And you had to scramble to put together a defense - to explain it to him when he had been the accused in the crime at the time.

“You really can’t understand why I didn’t tell you that I was pregnant?” You gaped, still defensive.

“No, I really don’t get it.” He agreed, shaking his head. “You had to know that I would have done anything to become a father. No matter what, I would have stepped up, I-”

“Oh, don’t give me that!”

You were raising your voice now, years old anger bubbling up in your veins, awoken by his self righteous attitude - his foggy nostalgia when viewing his past self.

“It was bad, Spencer. It was a bad time. And you can’t tell me with all honesty that you would have turned it around like that,” You snapped your fingers to help demonstrate the point. “Just because you found out that when you came inside me, it stuck.”

“I would have tried.” Spencer pressed.

“But you wouldn’t have tried for me?” You replied desperately.

That stung you deep, tearing open some of the wounds you still had from that night.

It was something you had suspected, but you had never heard him confirm it for certain.

When you had been back there, begging him to change - he had turned on you. You alone weren’t good enough for him.

Spencer’s face fluctuated rapidly between shock and discomfort, and with no words from him, you continued.

“A baby would have been enough for you, but when I was sobbing, begging you to get better - that wasn’t good enough?” You continued, fresh tears clutching at your throat, beginning to simulate the sight he had been met with on the night you had broken up.

It was a terrible mirror. You standing in front of him, your face a picture of pure pain with glassy tears dancing in your eyes - begging him for answers, begging him to show that he loved you. That he would step up and improve out of love for you.

Because that’s what it was.

It hit him so suddenly then.

He saw that night - that deadly, world ending fight - in a whole new light now.

…

Just before the break-up, you and Spencer hadn’t officially moved in together, but you did have a key to his apartment. Moving in together was supposed to be the next logical step in your relationship, and he was heavily considering asking you to move in with him.

Well, he had been thinking about it - before his entire world was turned upside-down by a man named Tobias Hankel. When he came home scarred and emotionally chaotic, thinking about taking ‘next steps’ in life wasn’t really something he was doing.

Instead, he was in survival mode. And for the first time in his life, he was trying to do as little thinking as possible. Whenever he spent too much time in his own head, he had nightmares - he found himself back in that tiny room, strapped down to that chair, cold and unable to escape, with death looming over his head.

He hated that he relied on the drugs to drown it all out.

Among the mess that he often found between his ears - he often forgot that you had a key to his place.

When he came home that night, he was expecting to take a particularly heavy hit that would hopefully put him right into a long, dreamless sleep. He definitely did not expect you to be there. It wasn’t something that the two of you had discussed beforehand. If you had asked to come over, he likely would have said no. He squinted against the lights as he opened the door to his apartment and a particular wave of nausea hit him as the smell of food cooking hit his nose.

Perhaps it was that ironic kind of nausea that only comes after starving for so long. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Of course, his body seemed to run perfectly fine on nothing but coffee and that precious thing that felt so heavy in his pocket. As far as he knew, he didn’t need to eat.

“Spencer?” You called out his name when you heard the door creaking on its hinges, and Spencer sighed deep in his chest when he realized that the interaction was inevitable.

So much for a peaceful night.

You had been so much of a nag lately. The way you had been acting, he would even border on calling it bitchy.

When he wanted you there for meaningless sex to get his mind off things or even if he just wanted to cuddle, when he needed you to hold him - you always wanted to talk. You were constantly on him, asking him what was wrong, and how you could help. You wouldn’t just shut up and leave well enough alone; no matter how many times he told you to lay off and insisted that he was fine. (He knew that it was a lie, but he didn’t force you to talk about your problems. He wished you could see that he just wanted to be left alone. That he could get through this on his own.)

The last time he had seen you, he had torn out of your apartment at the speed of sound when he had taken off his sweater in anticipation of some hopefully mind numbing orgasms - and instead, you had asked about the marks on his arm.

And he had been dreading seeing you again ever since.

“Hey.” He called back dully, slinking in the door and closing it behind him.

He tossed his keys onto a nearby table - one that was already messy with books and newspapers. He took off his messenger bag and tossed it down carelessly too, still not turning to look at you as he peeled off his outer jacket. He left a sweater on underneath to keep his arms covered; he didn’t need any more questioning from you right now.

“I made you dinner.” You pointed out, your voice tentatively hopeful. “It’s that cheese tortellini that you said you liked. And I stopped by that little shop downtown and got some of those chocolate cupcakes.”

When Spencer finally turned around, you were holding a bright pink box with the lid open, displaying two very plump, beautifully decorated chocolate cupcakes - a small, tired smile on your lips while you waited for him to say something about the kindness of the gesture.

A fresh wave of nausea rolled over him at the sight and all he felt was annoyance.

(What made things worse was that you had clearly taken the time to dress up. You were wearing one of your nicer dresses, a matching cardigan thrown over your shoulders. A light, but well done dusting of makeup across your beautiful features. If Spencer wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the clack of heels beyond the counter where he couldn’t see your lower half. You looked gorgeous, and it made him feel all the more like garbage where he stood.)

“You didn’t have to.” He huffed out, still trying to be civil, even though all he wanted at the moment was to be left alone in his own home, rather than having you there, bothering him.

“It’s okay, I wanted to.” You giggled, closing the box and setting it aside. “You’re absolutely worth it.”

That was it. That was the comment that truly cut through him.

Because he wasn’t worth it - he was a scumbag. He was a piece of trash who pitied a man who had killed seven people, and he should have died in that shitty little shack in the cemetery instead of standing here with you while you took the time to buy him cupcakes and make him dinner. He shouldn’t get to be spoiled by you after everything he had done.

Every ounce of that anger that he was feeling toward himself boiled over like a terrible overcooked pot and came spitting out like hot oil, ready to burn you.

“Can you just shut up?” He snapped. “I didn’t ask you to do any of this.”

He felt regret churn in his stomach when your face curled with hurt, and he was surprised when you didn’t immediately leave.

“It’s okay.” You said quietly.

The fact that you rolled over so easily, so apologetic - that annoyed him more.

He watched on with shock as you reached a hand toward your purse, which was sequestered off on one edge of the counter - a space you had clearly cleaned off before you had started cooking.

(Spencer could only imagine how much you looked down upon him, considering him a lazy pig with how messy and generally unhygienic his apartment was because - even though he hated it - he couldn’t bring himself to clean with his generally mental disarray as of late.)

You put a hand into the open zipper of your bag and soon came out with something you easily knew was there, didn’t even have to dig around for, and Spencer watched on curiously as your hand came back with a thick fistful of colorful pamphlets.

“I also got these for you.” You said, extending the arm out to him.

He had a terrible knot in his gut.

He stepped forward on shaking legs and when he grabbed them from you - surely enough, it was exactly what he had feared.

Spencer’s eyes grew tense with anger as he scanned over it all.

A bunch of crap about sober living with generic stock images of people smiling - well paid models who had never known a single day of pain in their stupid, well groomed lives. People who could never even imagine what Spencer had been through.

“We can talk about it when you’re ready.” You told him, anxiety keeping your breath tight in your chest as you spoke. “I know it’s hard, so-”

What the hell did you know?

“God, you are so fucking full of it!” Spencer shouted, tossing down the pamphlets, causing them to scatter across the counter in a mess, his sudden spike in volume making you flinch.

As though you had been slapped, it took you a moment to recover from the pure shock of his words before you could actually speak any kind of reply.

“What?” You gaped at him. “Spencer, what the hell do you mean? I’m trying to help-”

“‘Oh, I know it’s hard.’” He repeated your words in a mocking voice. “Please, what the hell do you know?”

That caused a dangerous shift in you, turning the understanding and pity inside of you toward fed-up anger.

“I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me!” You shouted back. “You won’t even tell me what the hell is wrong! It’s like you don’t even fucking trust me!”

Unconsciously, this is exactly what Spencer had wanted. He had wanted a fight - claws, noise. He needed to be punished. He couldn’t stand you sitting around, acting so damn calm, being so sweet to him when he was so awful.

“Why should I tell you?” Spencer argued, grasping blindly at nothing, yelling just to make noise. “It’s none of your goddamn business!”

“Why wouldn’t this be any of my business?” You gasped. “Spencer, we’ve been together for - what? Almost three years now?”

It had been two years, eleven months, and three days since your first date. It had been two years, eleven months, and fifteen days since he had first spoken to you. It had been three years and four days since he had first laid eyes on you - thinking that you were the most beautiful woman on earth, thinking that he would never, ever work up the courage to speak to you. Thinking that there was no chance on earth that you would ever actually be his.

And now, he was about to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

All good things must come to an end, right?

��I care about you.” You said, your voice cracking around the words - the ghost of tears beginning to form in your throat, like dark clouds forming in the sky before a storm. “That makes it my business.”

Spencer huffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s not just ‘whatever’, Spencer!” You screamed, your frustration flaring up once again.

He didn’t speak, he just kept on glaring at you. This pissed you off more - finally gave you the balls to say it.

“You’re on drugs!” You finally found the courage to speak it aloud. There was a tense stare down as you waited for him to deny the accusation. When he didn’t, a sharp spear pierced your chest, and the first tears fell. “You’re hurting yourself. This is a big deal, baby. You need help.”

Looking back on it now - it had been four years, nine months, and eight days since the last time you had called him ‘baby’. He should have seen it then, but this was the beginning of the end.

He should have latched onto it as a safety line and pulled himself ashore. He should have accepted the help that you were so graciously offering him.

But instead, at the time - it only stung him more. It only showed him a display of the sweetness that he didn’t think he deserved. It only caused him to turn on his defenses more.

Like a poisonous plant evolving his instincts in the worst way - it made him fight back harder.

“Don’t tell me what I fucking need!” Spencer cried out, every inch of his voice utterly insulted. “So what if I’m on drugs? You’re not a fucking peach yourself!” He let out a bitter, airy chuckle with these words, and instantly your face shifted.

A very large part of you knew that he was resorting to personal attacks because he was desperately trying to shift the attention away from himself - away from talking about his own problems. But with the shock and hurt pulsing through your system, you couldn’t truly focus on the logic of it all.

“What?” You gaped. “Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“You - you act so goddamn perfect all the time, but-”

He stuttered, hesitating for a fraction of a moment, watching the hurt and confusion tangle over your beautiful features - he could have blamed it on the drugs in his system or the fact that the trauma had been so recent and he technically had not ‘recovered’ from it. But he made the final move, then, hurling a harpoon into your relationship, making a giant wound that couldn’t be recovered from.

“But you’re a pathetic, shallow little girl with abandonment issues because your father left you before you hit puberty-” He said, breaking you down in that intense, psychological, profiler way. “You seek validation from me, the man you’re having sex with, in the most utterly Freudian way, and when you don’t receive that validation, you starve yourself in the name of vanity, seeking satisfaction and control that you’ll never truly obtain because you’re a narcissistic control freak!”

He managed to hit every point perfectly; he had used his skills to look into your soul, hand-picking every single thing that would have hurt you most. Given, he also had information that you had told him during late-night conversations where the two of you had bonded. You had told him about your shitty father and the eating disorder that you struggled with on and off since childhood (and still occasionally struggled with since you had met him). He had told you about his mother and his own shitty father - but it was never something that you would have used against him.

You knew that it was meant to hurt you - to distract you. You knew that he was lashing out in order to put a wall between himself and you. But you couldn’t help the giant lump that rose up in your throat, the flood of tears that poured freely down your face.

Hearing those words right from his mouth was one of your worst nightmares come to life - as though one of your safest, softest places to land was now a bed of thorns.

Spencer’s gut twisted when he saw you crying, but like a man possessed, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Did you honestly think that being with me was going to fix you?” He let out a dark chuckle, sounding well and truly like a super villain, punching right through your heart. “Maybe, you should spend less time focusing on me and my supposed problems,” He griped, sarcasm tight on his lips. “And spend a bit more time fixing yourself.”

You sucked in a chest rattling breath, and began gathering your purse, leaving the pamphlets on the counter as you moved to grab your coat off the hook.

You would forever regret turning back for one last word, your throat quaking hard and struggling to even get the words out.

“And how would you recommend that I do that?” You asked, entirely bitter.

“Well, for starters, you could use a few less cupcakes in your life.” He replied, snarky, demanding.

He was angry about the cupcakes because they represented everything good about you - your generosity, your kindness, your propensity to view the small things in life as a representation of life being good as a whole.

It came off sounding like a jab at your weight, degrading your perfect body - especially after he had called you narcissistic for having an eating disorder.

A sharp jolt went through his chest when the words fully penetrated his own ears - when he truly heard how terrible it was.

Especially when he saw the look of horror that struck your gorgeous, tear-soaked features.

“Y/N-” He said your name so softly, and an apology begging to be chased from his lungs.

But you wouldn’t let him.

“We’re done here.” You declared, a dark finality in your voice as you turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind you.

At the time, Spencer simply thought you meant - done with the conversation. He didn’t know that you had already decided that your words were declaring - done with the relationship. At the time, you were well and truly done with Spencer Reid.

He ached to chase after you, to scream apologies down the hall, no matter who would hear him - but his feet only carried him as far as the door before he collapsed against it, pressing his forehead hard into the wood while his soul clawed at the inside of his chest, aching to get to you, mourning that he had hurt you so badly.

Spencer left the food to go stale, turning off all the lights in the apartment. Then he took a strong hit, and cried himself to sleep.

He woke up the next morning stewing in regret. He called you, and of course, you didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. He wondered if he should go to your favorite coffee shop, get your favorite breakfast and go to your place to force his way in so that he could talk things over with you. He wondered if he should agree to go to one of the sober treatment programs that you had picked out just to please you.

While he was considering all of this, his phone rang, and he rushed to pick it up, thinking that maybe it was you. It was JJ, alerting him to a case. He gathered his things and left for work, letting you fall into the back of his mind, thinking that he would be able to pick up the pieces and apologize when he got back.

But it had been too late.

The next time he opened his apartment door, he tripped over the key he had given you. You had slid it under the door in order to return it to him after locking up.

You had let yourself in to gather your things from Spencer’s place, and to leave a very large box of his things that had been left at your place in the middle of his kitchen counter. Beside that box was an envelope with his name on it. A six page handwritten letter from you, explaining all of your reasoning for not wanting to speak to him in person, wishing him well in getting sober, telling him not to make any efforts to contact you again because he had hurt you so badly and you simply needed to heal - and declaring the end of the relationship finite and official.

(Your pregnancy, of course, was mentioned nowhere among those six pages.)

Several weeks later, Spencer would receive a similar letter from Gideon when he left the BAU without telling anyone.

When he read your letter, Spencer sobbed so loudly that his throat hurt.

And after reading it several more times, letting it truly hit him - he flushed the last of the stash he had down the toilet. A few weeks later, after he had worked up the courage, he went to your apartment. After a while of him knocking on the door and calling your name, begging for you to come out and see him, one of your neighbors came out. They yelled at him to shut up, and informed him that you had moved.

That was the first day Spencer went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

…

It had all happened so fast.

You found out you were pregnant, and you knew that the end of your lease was coming up. It had been a time you were hoping to move in with Spencer, but with that hope blown to shreds, you needed a fresh start.

Your mom knew someone selling for cheap because it was in a newly developing area, and most of the other houses around it weren’t finished yet. She thought it wouldn’t appeal to you because it was in a different state, but - you found yourself calling the real estate agent and packing up your boxes that week.

You figured that because you had done so well growing up without a father, your kid didn’t need one either. You didn’t want Spencer to cause more trouble being in his life and being unstable than not being there at all.

So you fled. It seemed like the wisest decision at the time.

…

Spencer had been so stupid.

Not only had he hurt you badly - but you had wanted him to get sober out of love. You had been so patient with him, so soft, so loving. You weren’t talking about his addiction because you wanted to pick apart his flaws. You hadn’t gone to his apartment that night because you wanted to hurl around accusations. You hadn’t wanted to be invasive; you hadn’t thought that he was a genuinely horrible, broken person and you simply wanted him to admit that.

You saw that he was hurting and you had wanted to help him heal.

At the time, you had nothing but love for him - and you had even loved those broken parts of him. He hadn’t been prepared to accept that love. He had made a terrible mistake. And there was only one thing he could do now.

Spencer shocked you when he moved from leaning on the kitchen counter and got down on his knees in front of you. Your jaw slacked in shock and you stared down at him as he clasped his hands together as though praying, staring up at you with his wide, wet eyes.

“I am so sorry.” He said, his voice quaking around the words. “I know that I could never apologize enough for what happened - I was horrible to you back then. You definitely didn’t hallucinate that.”

“Well… it wasn’t all you, right? I mean, you weren’t really yourself then.” You sniffled, clearly making an implication toward the fact that he had been taking drugs.

All this time, you had put a lot of emotional stake in that. When you looked back on your memories with Spencer, you hoped that drugs was solely the reason he had turned into a different person - a kind of person who would make such harsh personal attacks toward you.

It made a lot of sense as to why he was so sweet, so normal, so personable, so good with Sebatian, so himself now. He must be sober.

“That’s no excuse.” He told you. “I need to take full responsibility for my behavior. I treated you with the type of cruelty that no person should ever have to experience, let alone a partner.”

“Spencer, get up, please.” You reached over and grabbed the fabric at the shoulder of his shirt, and he let you haul him to his feet.

It felt all too natural to stay close to you.

As you leaned up against the counter beside the sink, your hands drifted to his waist and pulled him to you. And his hands lingered behind you on the counter, bracketing you in. His face hovered close to yours - this was the closest he had come to kissing you all day. His eyes lingered on your lips.

But he knew that the two of you were too close now - too close to the truth.

He had to let you speak instead. He couldn’t risk ruining things again.

“I accept your apology.” You told him quietly.

It was something you had been waiting years to hear him say. This moment - this whole day - it was like something out of your distant fantasies. You didn’t think that you would ever get to see this version of Spencer again. And now, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with him. You still felt too cautious.

“I really want to work on things.” It was the truth, and you knew that you had to speak it out loud. “I really want you to be a part of Sebastian’s life.”

I really want to work on things.

It was the tiniest scrap of hope, but it was all he needed to pursue things.

“Are you and I gonna work on things?” Spencer asked, barely above a whisper, reaching a hand up to oh-so-gently brush his fingers across the side of your face. “Is there a future for us?”

He closed his eyes and tentatively pressed his forehead into yours while you tightly gripped onto the fabric of his shirt. His soul was clawing at his chest once again, feeling all too much like the night you had left him in the apartment all alone.

But this time, he wasn’t prepared to let you go.

“Can you answer something honestly?” You whispered.

“Anything.” Spencer replied.

“Have you…?” You breathed out, unsure how to phrase the question. “When was the last time… are you clean? Like - are you sober?”

You were almost certainly sure that he was. He was acting so different, so much more like the version of Spencer that you had fallen in love with. But you couldn’t have someone who was actively on drugs parenting your son. And you had to hope that his prolonged trip to the bathroom earlier wasn’t for that reason.

“One thousand, seven hundred, and two days.” Spencer replied. “That’s how long I’ve been sober.”

That was a very long time. You let out a breath of relief, and Spencer felt it puff out against his chin. To clarify, he then said:

“It’s about - four years, eight months, and two days.” He added on.

“So… a little after the time I ended things.” You concluded.

You felt a pang of guilt flow through you. At the time, you knew that breaking up with him was a risk. It was a painful event, and he could have turned to drugs even more for comfort. You had taken away his support system, something that could have helped him in getting sober. But he was spiraling, and you couldn’t stay there and let him take you down too.

When you found out about the pregnancy, you realized that a large part of how quick you were to act and how rash you were was likely due to the pregnancy hormones. But you weren’t going to rush back and apologize to Spencer because you didn’t want an addict helping to raise your child. You didn’t think that he would simply quit cold turkey because he found out about the baby - not from the way you had seen him.

But apparently -

“The break-up… the way things ended, it was a huge catalyst in helping me get sober.” Spencer told you. “And I’m thankful for that.”

That part surprised you.

At the time, you know you could have severely relapsed in your eating disorder.

The only reason you didn’t was because you found out that you were pregnant. Knowing that you had another human life to support, that your body wasn’t just your own - it pushed you to eat healthy, and allowed you the mental room to eat ‘treats’ when you wanted to. Nobody cares if a pregnant woman gets fatter, and that did make you feel safe, in a sense.

You knew that you didn’t want to date after Sebastian was born - you were focusing so much on him that you didn’t have too much room to be self conscious of your Mommy body. You exercised by lifting Sebastian and carrying him around. Later, you got plenty of exercise chasing him around when he could walk. You didn’t think too much about your diet, because you mostly just ate what he did, and made sure that he was eating healthy.

In a lot of ways, he saved you. Becoming a mother was the best thing that could have happened - for your mind, body, and soul.

“What I was doing… it was not the kind of coping mechanism I should have used.” Spencer spoke up again, distracting you from your own thoughts. “But knowing that I hurt you like that - knowing that I lost the best thing in my life… it made me realize that I was turning into someone I didn’t want to be. I was turning into this utterly horrible person, and I needed to change.”

“Spencer-” You choked out.

Hearing him describe himself as an ‘utterly horrible person’ did hurt.

“It’s okay.” He said softly.

“Can - can I ask what happened?” You whispered. “What made you turn to-? I mean… you left and then when you came back… you were so different.”

He knew what you were talking about.

He wasn’t even sure how he could put it into words for you.

A man in Georgia who had taken on the personality of his father in order to survive. Seven murders in the name of religion. A case that was supposed to be straightforward - a time where Spencer had nearly met God himself.

He had refused to tell you back then because he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want to taint you with the details. He wanted to be comforted and coddled by you without you knowing why he needed that comfort.

After a moment of Spencer not speaking - standing there with distant horror in his eyes as it all replayed in his mind, you spoke again.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” You said, reaching up and gently petting a hand down his arm. “You’ve done a lot of healing since then, and I know it’s in your past now.”

“Tobias Hankel.” He told you, confusing you slightly for a moment before he continued. “He - he was a man who killed seven people. It was a case in Georgia. It was supposed to be standard. We were called in to profile the murders, and actually - he was listed as a witness, and JJ and I went out to interview him. It was a really secluded area. And we got separated.” Spencer took in a breath, and you continued touching his arm, a gentle assurance that you were there, that it was okay. “And… he caught me off guard. He knocked me unconscious.”

Spencer didn’t feel the need to give you all the dirty details. How he had been shocked by Tobias speaking in the voice of his father, by the appearance of ‘both suspects’ in one body. How he had begged for mercy.

“And he took me to another location. And when I woke up… I had no clue where I was.” He said, this throat tightening up as the memories came flooding back to him.

“Oh baby, that must have been so scary.” You said, the word flying from your lips out of instinct as you moved your hand to his chest - instinctively trying to protect his heart with the whole of your palm.

Hearing it from your lips, so gentle, so soothing - baby.

Spencer felt like he was at home again. It was the last thing he needed to crack open that door - everything he had been holding back, every raw emotion - it came flooding out.

He blinked out tears, and you thought that it was terror resurfacing from that day.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You told him, reaching up to wipe those tears away. “I’m here now.”

That’s all he had ever wanted. To be here with you. All he had ever needed.

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

“You don’t have to thank me.” You replied, your voice gentle.

“At the time - he drugged me.” Spencer continued the explanation - the one he so dutifully owed you. “That - that’s why.” He stuttered out. “When I came home… I couldn’t stop. It was the only thing numbing the pain. The only thing stopping me from… truly facing it all. From thinking about everything that had happened to me - processing it. I didn’t want to like it, but… it was the only thing that got me through when I was… when I felt like I was so close to death. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to exist without it at the time.”

Spencer took in a sharp breath.

“And when you left, I realized that I needed to stop - I needed to stop the drugs, or I was just gonna lose everything.”

“You are so strong.” You said, your own voice ripe with tears as you continued to hold Spencer’s face, holding both of his cheeks now, forcing his gaze toward you. Your eyes were burning passionate, every inch of the declaration intense and strong. “Spencer, you got through that and came home. I don’t know if I could have done what you did.”

“You could have.” He told you, entirely truthful. “You’ve been raising a child by yourself for four years. Never doubt how strong you are.”

He wanted to deflect - eager to stop talking about himself now. But he was doing it with compliments this time. He knew that he could never make it up to you, but he would never stop with the flattery. He would never stop trying.

“God, Spencer. I missed you so much.” You said, your throat clenching around the words. Then, before you could stop it:

“You know I never stopped loving you, right?”

He swore that his heart stopped in that moment.

“I - I don’t think I could have stopped loving you if I tried.” He replied, his tongue fat and dry in his mouth, having to swallow tightly after he spoke.

You used your hands on his cheeks to pull him toward you, then, and like the inevitability of the earth rounding the sun as the years passed - Spencer came home to you, sighing into your mouth as he felt your lips in that perfect, beautiful kiss. He finally felt that tightness ease in his chest - maybe it was a feeling he had been waiting to pass for years, his heart locked up and tight with that love for you strangling him from the inside, clawing to get out with you not around for him to truly love you the way he needed to. With his son somewhere out there in the world, waiting to be loved by him.

Your lips were so smooth and perfect against his - and it wasn’t long before that sweet love turned aching, insistent, and passionate.

Spencer put his hands on your hips and scooted you back up onto the counter. You let your body naturally shift with the movements, letting yourself slowly fall into the trust of being touched by him again. You let out a moan into his mouth and embraced his tongue past your lips, one of your hands moving to tangle into his now much wilder hair. You loved the feeling of his voice vibrating a moan against you as you gave his roots a gentle tug.

Heat surged through your body as he stepped between your now wide open knees, pressing himself right up against you where you were sitting on the counter - he needed to get closer. He needed to feel you. His crotch pressed tightly against yours - causing a stirring of heat and wetness in your underwear matching him as he was just beginning to get hard.

He had missed you so much. And it had been so long for both of you - you had barely looked at other people since the break-up, and having the touch of a lost loving stirred something in your bodies that made you both so hungry.

Spencer pulled away from your lips and began kissing down your neck, eager to suck and lick and kiss and consume as much of your skin as possible. When he came across the chain of the neck sitting on your skin, he gave it a loving lick and hummed into your skin, and you moaned his name into the air.

“Spence, oh!”

And then-

Then there was a crash from somewhere else in the house. The sound of glass breaking.

You hadn’t set the alarm - because typically that was something you did before going to bed.

Someone was breaking into the house.

The killer was coming for you.

“Spencer!” You said his name with more urgency now as his head whipped up from the crook of your neck, looking around for the danger, not yet moving from between your legs as he assessed the situation.

There was a crash from your office as something was knocked over. The sound of someone stumbling as they climbed in through the broken window.

He grabbed one of the nearby kitchen knives from the block, quickly realizing that his gun was his bag by the front door - too far to run for.

“Go upstairs, get Sebastian, take him in your room and lock the door.” He told you, his voice as authoritative as you had ever heard it. He took his cellphone from his pocket and thrust it into your shaking hand. “Call JJ or any contact in this phone labeled BAU. Call until they pick up and tell them that we need back up here. No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody. Got it?”

...

Keep reading here: Chapter Six - That's What You Get (Finale)

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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