#wrote it listening to margaret by lana del rey

[madwomansapologist]

would you mind writing some tamerlane usher x fem! reader that’s just tammy and reader being silly wives and being married and it’s just really fluffy

(because I have not recovered from her death and I am BEGGING for tammy content )

i am obsessed with her since her first scene! the way i folded when i understood what was happening during that dinner scene was.... it was something.

what i wrote is so sweet that it may give you cavities. because that's exactly what tammy deserved. LIKE SHE'S JUST A BABY LEAVE HER ALONE!!!

her death wasn't the most gore (rip prospero) but damn it felt so cruel. i mean she wasn't sleeping, were alucinating, and her neck...

i was so mad at the end of the series with roderick. like to keep on having kids was the absolute worst decision ever (wrap it before you tap it). but fred *vomit sound* and tammy were the ones that were exchanged you know what i mean? like they were alives, and roderick make the deal

anyway, here is your big mac and fries.

[lov1ngreid]

BOYS LIKE YOU | 2

back to PART ONE

(pairings): highschool!spencer + cheerleader!reader

(warnings): none <3

(word count): 4K

(author’s note): hii i’m so happy to see all the love on part one! i’m so sorry this took a little longer than usual to be posted i’ve had a busy few days, i’ve got plans for one more part for this series, i hope you’ve enjoyed so far 🩷🩷 also I don’t know how i feel about the end of this part, so let me know any feedback!!

listen to what i did when i wrote this! ➘

Quickly, you opened his bedroom door to stand at the top of the stairwell, scanning over the living room with ease considering how high up you were. Making sure both your families were occupied with whatever thanksgiving nonsense had presented itself.

Quickly turning your head back to Spencer who stood in the doorway of his bedroom incredibly confused, you silently gestured to him to follow you with the nod of your head, it takes him a few seconds of internally fighting himself before he follows your lead, hopping down the stairs a few beats behind you before the both of you reach the bottom.

“You ready?” You say, getting on your tippy toes to whisper it quietly in his ear, you almost had forgotten how tall he was.

Confused, Spencer’s brows furrow before answering “ready for wh- Ow!” He groaned, hunching over a little at the pain, you felt a little bad for kicking him in the ankle with your boot, but you knew he deserved it a little for being so mean about your cupcake.

“Oh no!” You exclaimed, obviously acting to Spencer but you seemed to have convinced everyone else “I think Spencer sprained his ankle!” Gasping you pretend to comfort him moving him to the dining room chair as he glared at you from the side of his eye, almost instantly his parents had rushed over to the both of you instantly drowning him in worry.

“Are you okay sweetie?” Diana rushed reaching down to touch the ankle he had his hand over, he took a second to look up at you before answering.

“I don’t think so, it really hurts” he huffed rubbing the ankle in question, it shouldn’t have made you smile, but you thought it was sweet that he was going along with your plan and not immediately telling everyone you had just kicked him in the ankle.

It was like when you were kids creating elaborate stories as to why you needed $20 from your parents, claiming it was so you could buy a new textbook for class, when you really just bought Call of duty and played it in his room.

“I can take him to the ER” you offer looking down at Diana “he really shouldn’t be walking on it” nodding, you look between her and Spencer, attempting to read her facial expressions for any suspicions that this one really one big lie.

She looks up at Spencer for a moment, breaking her gaze with him to look at you before nodding “I think that’s a good idea” she smiles reaching up from Spencer to grab your hand in hers, you feel her soft warm palms grasp yours before she rushes to the kitchen for a moment.

Having both your families huddled around the both of you made keeping up the facade incredibly difficult, sure, you could lie to just about everyone and anyone, but lying to your family who knew you more than anything was beginning to become a little difficult.

Diana rushes back with an ice pack before leaning back down to Spencer’s ankle to press it against the bone softly. “Here” your dad mumbles, fishing his car keys from his left pant pocket before tossing them in your direction, so unexpectedly that you barely catch them, fumbling them in the process which causes Spencer to laugh a little beside you.

The first time you had heard him laugh all night, the first time you had heard him laugh in years.

“You’re dead if you scratch that car” your dad sternly tells you before he takes another swig of his beer, pressing your lips together nodding quickly, you glance back down at Spencer for a second seeing a small smirk grow on his face knowing everyone had believed your little coordinated stunt.

After a few moments of hustle, you recruit Brodie to help hobble Spencer out to the black suv as both your parents follow behind, you were still shocked that the scheme had even worked, and that Spencer had gone through with it.

“Why are you here?”

“I thought I’d come along?” Brodie shrugged, clicking his seatbelt before switching his gaze from the backseat between both you and Spencer.

“Get out” you smile nodding for him to leave.

“Why?” He spits, suspicions growing in his mind as his gaze flicks faster between you and Spencer “and since when are you guys even friends?” confused his mouth agape while memories of both Spencer and you being absent from the night caught up to him, if you were going to get away with something, it wasn’t going to be with brodie, that boy was seemingly always one step ahead of you.

He continues to look between the both of you as you both stammer for a response “Oh gross!” He exclaims unbuckling his seatbelt in an instance “are you guys hooking up?” His mouth drops, absolutely staggered by his own conclusion.

Seemingly one step ahead.

You and Spencer stare at each other mouths agape before Spencer begins to loudly, and rudely start fake gagging in response to Brodie claims, shocked you slap Spencer on the shoulder shaking your head in offense, there is no way on earth that boy was seriously fake gagging at the thought of hooking up with you.

“I don’t think there’s a single universe where that would happen” Spencer presses his lips together rubbing his arm where you had inflicted your second act of violence against him tonight.

“Oh?…” Brodie trails off, still incredibly confused on what sort of game you both were playing here.

“I’ll you don’t leave I’ll tell mom how you accidentally linked her credit card to your ark account”

“Okay see ya!” His eyebrows raised before scurrying out of the backseat of the car slamming the door behind him.

You and Spencer sit in comfortable silence for a moment taking deep breaths, both shocked your plan had actually worked.

After a few minutes you break the silence “by the way, in that alternate universe where we don’t hook up, is because I rejected you not the other way around” you point at him before buckling your seatbelt, Spencer only responds by holding his hands up in defense.

The car ride was almost silent other than the sound of the radio quietly playing and your blinker clicking away at each turn, Spencer spent the time gazing out the passenger window watching the houses zoom past him and watched the trees sway in the wind. His mind catches up when he sees the familiar 2 storey white paneled house with your baby blue volkswagen beetle convertible parked in the driveway.

“Why are we at your house?” Spencer questions, concerned, every possible situation flashes through his mind, were you pranking him? Were all your friends waiting there to laugh at him?

You switched the car off before turning to answer “did you think you were going wearing that?” Raking your eyes across his outfit, cringing again at the sight of it “it’s thanksgiving, you’d think you’d at least wear something nice” scoffing you open the drivers seat door before hurrying into your home.

Spencer opens his door before rushing to trail behind you “this is my nice doctor who shirt” he mumbles looking down at his own outfit, ignoring whatever loser sentence had just come from his mouth you push open your door nodding for him to follow.

You don’t turn around to make sure he’s keeping up with you before you hurry up the stairs making a beeline for your bedroom, once Spencer realizes where you’re headed, his footsteps behind you slow down a little only causing you to turn around confused.

“Um I don’t think I should go in there” he mumbled, staring at your bedroom door like he had just seen a ghost.

“Why?” You question, confusion painted over your face.

“It’s just- I don’t know, I just don’t want to” he rushed, face turning pink in embarrassment, it was as if any sort of confidence he had before completely diminished in front of you.

What if he was right? All your friends were sitting in there waiting for him to enter obliviously. He could only imagine how loud their laughs would be, he could almost hear it ringing through his ears.

Tilting your head you watch Spencer as he stands in shock staring at your door, you wave your hand in front of his face, clicking him out of whatever world he had entered “You’re scared of my room?”

“No- no… there’s no one in there, is there?” He sheepishly responds, pink traveling up to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah Spence the whole cheer squad is in there” the colour instantly drains from his pink embarrassment ridden face “no, there’s no one in my room… weirdo” you whisper pulling the door handle to swing it open, Spencer almost flinched at the sight of your bedroom.

Unlike his, your room was completely re arranged, the colour of your walls even had even been painted from pastel pink to light grey. He took a moment to scan around the room, everything had a place, every colour cohesive. He paused a little when he glanced at the numerous photo frames scattered across your bedroom, frames that once held photos of you at dance competitions, photos of you and Spencer riding your bikes or at your birthday parties, had been replaced by photos of your cheer team or you and your group of friends at parties.

Except for the picture frame on your bedside table, inserted with a photo of the both of you from science camp discovering how hydrogen peroxide and potassium iodide reacted for the first time.

He felt his heart unwillingly tighten at the thought that you still cared about him at least a little.

“Alright” you mumble digging through your wardrobe drawers completely oblivious to Spencer wandering your room deep in thought “here!” You exclaim pulling the grey hoodie from the bottom of your drawer, you chuck it at Spencer unexpectedly causing him to stumble backwards a little at the impact.

“Who’s is this?” he wonders, holding the hoodie up to see the garment, which was evidently much too large for you.

“Mine” you answer, while you tried to tidy up your now messy wardrobe, he shoots you a look, and despite you not being able to see, you could feel it by the silence “I like to buy boys hoodies” shrugging you stand back up brushing past him to Brodies room, in search of some pants, letting out a little ‘aha!’ when you found the one nice pair of jeans brodie owned, which you had bought.

You tossed the jeans at his chest which is he surprisingly caught this time around. You stood in the doorway of your room for a moment while Spencer held the pile of clothes in his arms, stunned like a deer in headlights.

“I’m gonna go downstairs so you can change” you nod before closing the door and hopping down the stairs before he could respond.

You hadn’t even had time to check your phone since you had gotten to thanksgiving, switching it on, the screen filled with numerous group chat messages and texts from your friends asking if you were still coming, which only earned a groan from you, you loved your friends, really, but sometimes it felt like they always wanted something from you.

Snapped out of your thoughts by your door snapping closed, you look up from the kitchen island to see Spencer’s black converse stepping down the stairs.

You’d never actually seen him wear anything other than graphic T-shirt’s and sweaters before, and although you thought those were indeed very him. It was like you were seeing a completely different version of him.

a version that didn’t dress like a clone of your brother.

“I feel stupid” he chuckles looking down at what he was wearing.

“You look cute” you smile at him laughing a little before switching your attention back to your phone.

Although a small gesture from you, your words made Spencer huff with a loss of breath, not one person in his entire life besides his mother had called him cute, other than you.

He stood there reminded of the times you used to ensure he looked cute while wearing a tree costume for the annual middle school play, or when he broke his arm and you had to convince him he looked fine with his cast, although he felt stupid you had told him he looked cute, you even drew pink hearts on his cast to make sure he knew.

But you called everyone that, he knew it was your favourite adjective.

“Alright” you chirp snapping him from his thoughts “you ready to go?” Spencer fizzles out from his thoughts to respond with a nod, which you return with a smile grabbing your keys from the kitchen bench.

The car ride remained silence for the most part, ears filled with the speakers softly playing Faye Webster and the sounds of cars buzzing around you.

“You know, you’re a lot quieter then when I tried giving you that cupcake” you chuckle turning for a moment to look at Spencer’s jawline as he gazed out the passenger window.

You only watched him shrug from the corner of your eye before responding “I feel safer in my room… in my house I guess” mumbling Spencer looks down at his lap before he starts to pick at his fingers.

You glance over again, watching how the red like from the traffic light shone over his face, you lick your lips before answering “I like it when you’re nice to me” you admit sheepishly snapping your head to meet the road again.

“I’d like it if your friends were nice to me” he mumbles again not daring to meet your eyes scared of your reaction.

“What?” You respond furrowing your brows in confusion “are they not nice to you?” A concerned look shoots through your face turning to face Spencer once again, this time his gaze meets yours simultaneously.

Spencer’s face reads confused as well, why were you confused? You’d been at high school for almost 4 years at this point, you’d had to be stupid to not realise the social ladder that your peers had created to make people like Spencer feel inferior.

“Are you kidding?” He responds, same confused look painted across his face “they’re not nice to anyone but themselves, you’d have to be blind not to see it” convinced you were playing some sort of game, he doesn’t show any sort of affection in response, but he knew you weren’t stupid.

You both sit in silence for a minute before you muster up a response, you weren’t stupid, you knew your friends weren’t the nicest to everyone but you convinced yourself that if you never indulged it didn’t count, you were never mean to anyone so you never felt as if you had their words on your conscious.

Selfishly because they were never mean to anyone you really cared about, you thought.

“Am I mean to you?” You questioned quickly, searching his face for a reaction, it only twisted in question before he responded.

“I don’t think so” he whispers softly which you barely register over the music.

You knew you were, not outright mean but mean by association, you never stopped their comments about passing by students, you usually never indulged but you were just as mean for letting them go so nonchalantly, cause although not about Spencer, they were about somebody’s Spencer.

It’s almost like you could feel Spencer’s heart beating yourself, the view of the 3 storey modern shaped grey and white home was enough to make Spencer’s heart beat spike while he watched people run in and out of the house, people he knew, people he had classes with.

You couldn’t help yourself but reach over to grab Spencer’s cool hand “you’ll be fine” you nodded giving it a squeeze before letting go to unbuckle your seatbelt.

His heart did something other than beat profusely, it tightened as you dropped his hand, and he hated it.

Trailing behind you like a lost puppy he took a moment to examine his surroundings, he recognised almost every person stumbling in and out of the house from classes or kids he tutored.

Almost instantly, you were embraced by a wave of girls who he had recognised as your cheer friends, laughing and giggling while they squealed about your outfit and hair, he stood behind you feeling like he was made from glass being absolutely ignored by anyone in his vicinity.

He stood staring at the tops of his laces for a moment, the sounds of loud music and chatter filling his ears as he waited for you to turn your attention to him instead.

“Ready?” You chirp as your friends wondered off in different directions, you told them not to wait up, and frankly they were much too indulged in themselves to even register the 6 foot boy hiding behind you like a child.

The last time you had asked if he was ready, you sent your shoe straight to his ankle so he shot a confused look in your direction.

Noticing his concern you chuckle before grabbing his hand to drag him through the sea of drunken teenagers.

He looked down at your hand, your cool rings flush against his own, his eyes widened a little when he felt his heart beat a little faster at the contact, and god he couldn’t stand it.

Eventually you dragged him to the kitchen where only two people had occupied, you dropped his hand behind you to embrace the girl sitting on top of the kitchen island, Spencer recognised her, you and Gianna had been friends since the first day of high school, and she was the only one of your friends Spencer could stand.

“Oh hi Spencer!” She smiled after breaking from your hug, she took a swig of her cup before taking a chance to scan over his outfit “not to be mean or anything, but did you get invit-” although she asked innocently you slapped her in the arm before she could continue.

“I have a love story to witness” smiling you nudge Spencer in the shoulder a little only earning his cheeks to turn pink as he looked down at his shoes a little longer “Sadie Keller has a big fat crush on him and so does he” you laugh making your way over to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, Spencer only nervously laughed at your words.

“Sadie Keller?” Gianna questions tilting her head a little earning a shy nod from Spencer “oh! are you her tutor?” She points at Spencer grinning a little.

“Um..” he mumbled turning to face you “yeah”

“God, she doesn’t stop yapping about you” giggling she takes another sip from her cup, she turns around for a moment scanning through the crowd “Sadie!” She yelled flailing her arm to grab her attention.

Almost frantically he turns to you who looked more than entertained seeing how embarrassed he got, you both look up at the sea of people watching as Sadie’s cherry red hair gets closer and closer pushing through the crowd of teenagers.

Spencer jumps a little at the grasp of your hand again, smiling up at him for a second giving his cold hand a squeeze “good luck Spence” you nod before you beckon Gianna from the kitchen island to leave spencer to fend for himself.

Spencer’s eyes follow you as you walk to the direction of the pool arm in arm with Gianna, before snapping to the pretty girl in front of him.

Your heart tightens just a little as you leave him there, furrowing eyebrows as you notice the feeling, the same feeling you had in seventh grade when he got partnered up with Ava Milligan instead of you.

The sounds of the thumping music fades out at you both walk to the pool outside taking a seat on the edge, it was typical for you and Gianna to sit at the pool together at parties, she was the only person that agreed the party scene wasn’t her favourite, you both were homebodies, but high school hustle made not attending parties sound like social suicide.

Giggling as you slipped your boots and socks off to dip your feet in the cool pool you both sit for a little leaning on each other in a comfortable silence in each others company.

You can’t help but glance through the glass doors into the kitchen, and feel the way your heart thumps at the view of Spencer and Sadie sitting on the kitchen island giggling at god knows what.

What could they possibly be laughing about? what could she have possibly said to make him laugh?

“Okay spill” Gianna mutters, snapping you from your Spencer induced trance, you only shoot her a confused look back “You show up at a party with the boy you’ve been in love with for like forever, I know something’s going on in that pretty little head” she chuckles nudging you a little, causing you to laugh in response.

“I’m not in love with him” you mumble back turning your attention to your feet swaying in the cool water, she raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing a word coming from your mouth.

“Okay, you keep thinking that” she smiles slinging her arm over your shoulder while your heads lean together gazing at the blue water “I just didn’t think you’d pass him off so easily… you know he looks at you the same way you look at him, deny it all you want” she whispers, only the faint sounds of the party and the small water splashing occupying your ears.

You knew she was right, god you were in love with Spencer Reid no matter how much you wanted to deny it, that’s why you kept his stupid photo on your bedside table, and why you made cupcakes every thanksgiving, and why him completely shutting you out hurt so much.

Giannas head lifts from your shoulder at the sound of the glass door snapping shut, your eyes raise to meet Spencer standing there smiling a little at you “my queue to leave” Gianna laughs before leaving a kiss on the top of your head before hopping up from the pool edge grabbing her shoes in one hand nodding at Spencer as they brushed past each other, she turns around to mouth a quick ‘good luck’ before returning to the commotion of the party.

“How’d it go” you beam as he made his way down to sit next to you criss cross at the pool.

“Good… I think but she asked me to go ice skating” he mumbles furrowing his brows a little.

“That’s great!” You foreign excitement reaching to grab his shoulder “why do you look so sad about it?”

“God..” he groans reaching to rub his face with his hands “I can’t ice skate”

You giggle a little at his despair “sure you can… we went together in sixth grade remember?”

“I broke my arm that day”

“Oh” you respond, memories flashing through your head “you did didn’t you, you had that cute little cast I used to draw hearts over” giggling at the memory you continue to swish your feet in the water.

There was that feeling again, his heart thumping a little louder than before, it was like anytime you said something about him that he was sure you wouldn’t remember, his heart skipped a beat, and he could feel his palms get warmer.

“I’ll teach you” you smile pulling him from his thoughts “I don’t think Sadie will want to drive you to the ER for another broken arm” you chuckle bringing your lip up to your teeth for a moment.

“Think of it as a practice date”

“A practice date it is” he chuckles smiling back at you, you both meet each others gaze for a moment, you felt a pit grow in the bottom of your stomach as you both sit in silence searching in each others eyes.

You never could admit it, but he was still the boy you fell in love with in fifth grade, and you were still the girl in love with him.

PART THREE

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[glittergelpensblog]

When You Know, You Know

Azriel x Reader! Note: I may have gotten drunk and listened to Margaret by Lana del Rey. Here is a little blurb I wrote while doing that:) Summary: Y/N is scared of love, but a certain Shadowsinger throws those fears out the window. Word Count: 1015

When you met Azriel you just… knew. 

It was over. All of it. Every single piece of yourself was handed over to him whether you liked it or not. Because every single piece of bone and flesh, every drop of blood, every nerve in your body yearned for him. 

You had met Feyre at one of her painting classes in Velaris, one which you had taken your niece to. You had decided to stay with your niece during the painting, and when your sister came to pick her up, you had offered to help Feyre clean up.

The painting with your niece became a weekly occurrence. And over the course of time, the classes got busier, and Feyre had asked you to work for her. Organize the classes, help clean up, just simple tasks that were too much added to her plate along with her High Lady duties.

They were also simple tasks you were paid way too generously for. 

It was on one of those days, simple and peaceful, when Azriel walked through the doors of the studio and wrecked your entire being. 

Everything you knew, everything you had been taught, everything you loved had a new meaning. And that meaning was turned into the being of the elusive Shadowsinger. 

Because, gods damned, he was beautiful, and charming, and he was everything you should avoid. But all you wanted to do was know him. 

You contemplated the last time a person had ever made you feel that way, or ever at all. Had you allowed yourself to get that close to someone? Ever allowed yourself that vulnerability of loving someone like that?

No. The answer was no. You knew what love could do. How it could destroy one’s entire being. How it could make the most intelligent of people look so… stupid. But you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe just this once. Maybe it would work. 

Maybe you knew. 

And all your self restraint was gone when you peered up at him from the sink, washing paint off of the last class's brushes. You couldn’t just sit there like an idiot. You had to say something. 

“If you’re here for Feyre, she just left. But if Rhysand sent you here to get information on her new assistant, that would be me.”

And from there it was history. 

What you did to earn the Shadowsinger’s love, you didn’t know. And you never dared to ask. You gripped onto what you were given so hard, you were sure it had claw marks, but you did not care, did not think, and yet every day you were scared that all that was left of your love would be those claw marks forever embedded into the fiber of your being. 

Scared, you were so scared. You had yet to love like this, yet to have allowed yourself to feel as deeply as this in a long, long time. 

You had sort of loved, once long ago. Almost fifty years ago. And it had ended so tumultuously that you had barred yourself from ever loving again, from ever allowing yourself to feel the kind of pain you had felt when that love had left you in the dirt. 

“Are you just going to stare at me all night, or are you going to watch what this party’s actually about?”

You blushed, tearing your eyes from the Shadowsinger and finally aligning your gaze with the night sky. 

Starfall. It was Starfall. And there was nothing you’d rather look at than the male before you. 

“I’ve never actually watched Starfall from a rooftop before. Or at a whole party dedicated to it.” You answered, eyes still fixed on the stars. 

“Really?” Azriel mused, coming behind you and wrapping his arms around your body. “And why is that?”

And you let yourself sink back into his chest, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of him behind you. “I don’t know… Starfall parties are common. I guess no one’s ever invited me. I guess I had never gotten close enough with someone to invite me to one.”

Azriel bristled, but kept his arms around you. “And why is that?” He rested his chin atop your head. 

You sighed, gaze still fixed on the sky, waiting for the first star to careen through the air. “I think… I think I was too scared to give someone room to hurt me. To give someone that ability. It's a lot, to hand someone a piece of your heart and to trust them with it.”

Azriel sighed, and there was a long pause before he spoke his next words. “And with me? Do I have a piece of that heart?”

“Yes, for a very long time. Longer than I’d like to admit.”

“You’ve had a piece of my heart as well, my love. Ever since you accused me of spying on you.”

You laughed, as bubbly as the wine in your hand. “I barely remember saying those words. I was so stunned by you. You were the most beautiful male I had ever seen. You’ve had my heart since you walked into Feyre’s studio. And it’s scared the shit out of me ever since.”

“Scared you?”

“Scared me. I had never felt so drawn to someone, never wanted to know someone so badly the way I wanted to know you. Like I said, it’s a lot to give someone a piece of your heart and to trust them with it.”

“You really wanted to give me a piece of your heart? Right then and there?” Azriel smiled.

“Yes, I did. I guess, when you know, you know. And I’m glad I did. And I’m glad my sarcasm swindled you.”

Azriel laughed, placing a kiss on your head. “I will protect that piece of your heart with every fiber of my being.”

Tears filled your eyes as the first star shot through the sky. “I love you.”  It was the first time you had said it aloud, a small secret you kept  to yourself for the past months.

Azriel placed another kiss upon your forehead. “I love you too.”

[hecohansen31]

Fire Of My Loins

Trevor KIrchner+Younger Margaret’s Sister! Reader:

(A/N): Hello, lovelies!

Before you extract your knives to fight me… just know that I am working on “More Than You Bargained For” (2), which will be named “More Than You Can Give Me” (these shits are getting longer than Fall Out Boy’s titles).

But while I was working on it, I ended up not being truly able to focus on it (I still can’t), and this fic low key helped me a bit!

I STILL HATE TREVOR WITH ALL MY GUTS (and haven’t seen 9x07, when I wrote this) but hey… he low key inspired me to write this, so I honestly couldn’t help but write this down, and I hope it won’t be too much!

(Alongside the fact that “Lolita”, “Off The Races”, “Put Me In A Movie” by Lana del Rey have been on my youtube playlist since for-freaking-ever...).

Also the title is inspired by “Lolita” and it is nothing more than a quotation of a book that a truly appreciate for his writing style, which if you have read doesn’t glamorize any kind of relationship between an older man and a child, so please don’t make a shitstorm for that.

Reader in this case is an adult, since she is completely legal, being 22.

This was just a little disclaimer, because I know it might be controversial, and if anybody feels even slightly offended by it, just let me know!

Much love!

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a  “bright new start”, but apaprently it is much easier than it seems to go back to your previous life, mostly when your sister’s husband seems so attractive...

WORDS: 9 K.

WARNINGS:

Older! Man+Younger! Girl (Trevor according to me is either 36-40, meanwhile Reader is 22), Mention of Child Neglect and Domestic Abuse (alongside attempts of Sexual Assault), General Violence and Use of Drugs, Daddy Issues, Seducing an Older! Man, Mention of Reader’s past as a sex worker, Fingering and Oral Sex (Male-Female Receiving), PTSD, Nudity.Vulgarities.

Being Margaret Booth’s sister wasn’t an easy thing.

The big age gape had made you always take a deep distance from the other, but honestly the more they went on, the more she didn’t want to be associated with that psycho.

After Margaret’s traumatic experience at Camp Redwood, the first one, their parents’ attention had been all on her, not matter how much she cried or asked for it, as a small child in need of her parents’ help.

She remembered perfectly the night when her stomach had hurt terribly and she had cried till it had given her an headache, meanwhile her parents comforted her older sister from a nightmare, completely ignoring her, she had had to call the ambulance herself and at the hospital she had discovered her appendix had busted open.

When the social services had asked her why her parents hadn’t taken her themselves to the hospital, she had lied, not wanting to be separated by them and the silent abuse had perpetuated but the more she grew up the more she found herself to search the lacking attention, everywhere outside home.

Older men were her favorites: she had once fucked one and he had left her a good grand on the bedside table of the dirty motel they had met at, and she had felt that rush of adrenaline that got her to become an escort for older men.

They doted on her desperately and she was good at fucking and listening to them.

It might have seemed an ideal paradise, but it hadn’t lasted: any of the man she “doted” upon seemed to have a flaw.

Jack had gambling debts and whenever he would be with her, he would steal some of her money and she was unable to say anything.

Bill liked to snort coke off her body, and he had tried desperately to get her hooked up on it, no matter how many times she told him she wouldn’t ruin her pretty head for it.

Kent was the worst: he was the reason why she was going back to her sister’s house.

He was violent, but he was the lover she had loved the most, desperately letting him control every single aspect of her life, alongside quitting her escort career, to move with him and the first days were idyllic.

She had had the best 21st birthday party ever and the following day she was in hospital, avoiding brain damage just because the police had been alerted by the hosts of the party promptly.

Kent had tried to smash her head against the wall, after he had seen her “drunkenly flirting” with one of the guests.

She hadn’t been able to press charges but somehow Kent had never talked to her, and she was pretty sure it was all due to Margaret, who had chosen to take care of her, as the good Samaritan.

She didn’t understand this change of heart, so suddenly made by Margaret.

They had always had this cold distance and she knew perfectly that her Jesus-fearing sister didn’t approve of her life, promiscuous and disgusting as she thought it was.

But she had been there once she had woken up from the hospital and had helped her through the rehabilitation eventually asking her to move in with her.

“… I just feel so guilty for stealing your childhood, sweetie” she had commented, as if she knew half of the things she had gone through “… come home with me, little sister”.

She hadn’t been able to say no, since she usually relied totally on the met she met with and fucked, and without Kent she had no home and money, hence… she would have been homeless.

It was better to stay in her psycho-sister’s house than the open air.

She had come home with Margaret on the day they had dismissed her, although she hadn’t completely healed, since headaches and nightmares plagued her mind.

“Welcome home” uttered Margaret, opening the door for her and showing her an extremely elegant sitting room, extremely modern and distasteful, but what could she have expected?

“Thank you, Margaret, I would like to sleep a bit, so if you don’t mind, can you show me my room?” she honestly just wanted to move in her room, settle the few things she had owned in her small suitcase and then sleep a bit, but Margaret promptly grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks-

“Listen to me, little tramp” oh here comes the Jesus-fearing bitch, hadn’t she missed her “… if you want to live under my house, there are some few rules: you don’t bring your “dates” here, I won’t let you desecrate my temple!”.

It took all her strength not to laugh in her face, but she just smirked a bit, nodding softly.

“… you stick to your room and don’t go out unless I tell you to” and then Margaret grabbed her chin in her hands, tightening the grip enough that she found herself panicking a bit, making her remember Kent’s bruising hands “… don’t embarrass me more than you have already done… “.

And she immediately left her chin, pushing her slightly, after she brushed away imaginary dirt from her elegant clothes fixing them and her own smile, gently leaning down to kiss her sister’s cheek, before she moved away, calling over a maid to show her the way.

She had been able to take a quick shower, at least her room had a bath linked to it, since it seemed to be the smallest one, something that she honestly didn’t like, but she knew better than to ask her sister for more, mostly after the little “discourse” they had had.

She honestly needed to get a grip on her life, in order for her to move away as soon as she could.

She had worked through her teen years before her “career” took over, but she hadn’t been able to attend college, since not only it made her anxious and nervous, but also, she was addicted to those men’s attention and when she “fell” for them, she devoted herself to them.

What a shitty life, had she chosen?

She was brushing her hair to dry them, simply dressed in a cotton nightgown she had found on her bed, definitely more modest than the ones she had owned, but the color gave her some kind of innocent allure.

When she moved to drop the towel in the bathroom, she found the door opening, without knocking.

She immediately turned around, as a deer in the headlights, scared that it might have been Margaret, and annoyed by the thought that somebody wouldn’t respect her privacy.

But it wasn’t Margaret.

It was a man.

Even worse.

Her heart started beating roughly and she found herself holding her hand out towards the handle of the door of the bathroom thinking that if she rushed she might hide behind it, but the man, almost as if sensing her nervousness immediately, raised his hands, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“You must be (Y/N)” he commented, his tone was nice and sweet, clearly trying to calm down “… Margaret’s sister”.

“You surprised me” she simply mumbled, not knowing who this stranger was and keeping her hand onto the handle onto the bathroom door.

“I should have knocked” he muttered, clearly seeing her trembling “… I am Trevor Kirchner, Margaret’s husband”.

Margaret had never mentioned a second husband, in her visits.

So, she was a bit suspicious, but with the way he moved and acted he seemed not to want to scare her, and she relaxed a bit.

“… Margaret never talked about you” she simply uttered, and pushed herself to sit onto the bed, moving towards the little bottle of lotion she had managed to sneak away from Kent’s house, the smell of honey and roses intoxicating and comforting for her.

She tried to act nonchalantly, calming softly her nerves with the usual gestures, and immediately Trevor’s gaze shifted onto her legs, where she was smearing the lotion, and this didn’t go unnoticed from her, who took this time to analyze him better.

He was certainly charming, although some of his charm seemed ruined, shadowed by life and with the way his arms and legs moved spasmodically she knew it was drugs, and she couldn’t help but pout a little.

She would have gladly fucked him, before Kent.

Maybe just to spite Margaret.

“… she never talked about you either, till a week ago” he replied sassily, moving his eyes way from your shiny legs, as you pushed your arms up, as with them slightly your breast showcasing them more, in an act of subtle seduction that got Trevor quite engrossed, although he tried not show it “… just wanted to meet you and say that you are welcome to stay as long as you like”.

“I am staying here till I get a grip on my life” she stated, but Trevor just smirked at you, as if he didn’t believe you, as if he had said something like that to himself “… can you leave me alone? I prefer to do my beauty routine all alone, without creepy men staring at me”.

Most of her first week at the Booth Manor had been passed in her room, joining Margaret and Trevor only for dinner, when she felt like it.

When she didn’t, she just didn’t eat.

But at the start of the second week she felt bit better and most importantly due to the warmth of that summer day and the sunny weather she had thought about a little dive in Margaret’s tacky pool, although she didn’t own a bikini.

She hadn’t wanted to ask her sister, mostly due to the fact that Margaret had treated her like she was invisible and because she knew what kind of bikini her sister owned: matronly to say the least.

In the end, she had dipped into the water in her nightgown, a cotton white, very simple in details and puffy on the “sensitive zones”, such as her stomach and  her breasts, but as the water drenched her body, the fabric immediately attached itself to her body, revealing her skin.

She was enjoying a few breaststrokes in the water, when she heard a low whistle and realized that Trevor was leaning onto the swimming pool’s side, lounging onto it in a costume that showcased his “best attribute”.

She didn’t mind him any attention doing a few more laps around the pool, till she had enough, and another migraine hit her, making her quickly exit the pool, and reach out for her towel.

Which had been brought around herself with much care and when she opened her eyes, a bit comforted by the warm hug, she found Trevor gently helping her, and not looking at her almost naked body.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” he asked, seriously worried and she promptly pushed away from him, quickly sitting on one of the sunbathing chair on the side of the pool, trying to regain a bit of composure.

“It’s just a headache, I strained myself today” she mumbled, meanwhile she adjusted her drenched hair and tried to stop her legs from trembling.

“Margaret said that you tend to have some headaches… can I do something about it?” he asked softly, and gently moving closer and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was like this.

He was certainly attracted to her: she had seen the way his stare lingered onto her, but he never dared, and she was sure it wasn’t out of respect or faithfulness to her sister.

She had heard them fight, and during those times her head would be hidden under the pillow, memory of Kent in her mind flashing and her tears rushing down.

“… just stop talking…” she uttered sharply, seeing Trevor’s mouth move onto a straight line, clearly displeased, before he moved away and entered the swimming pool, effectively leaving her alone.

An hour later she was back inside, but she was unable to stop watching Trevor from her window, the way he brushed his hair away wet and drenched and the way little drops of water caught fire in his skin as light hit them.

This would end badly.

By her third week with her sister, she understood perfectly why Margaret had brought her there.

She had thrown a party to celebrate some kind of business milestone and had paraded her sister as a rescue case, constantly getting praised for her good heart and kindness.

“Oh Margaret, you truly are a saint” they muttered, meanwhile she simply smiled behind her glass of champagne, hoping they could serve something heavier, just as Trevor did, whenever he would excuse himself to snort some coke, in his office.

Already, after only an hour since the charity event had started, she was damnably bored.

And wasn’t the only one.

The man she picked out was dressed elegantly, jeweled cufflinks, linking a sober attire that seemed the incarnation of purity and bigotry.

He wasn’t so chaste as she went down her knees and bobbed her head up and down around his length till his release stained her pretty red lips.

It was the little pick up she had needed, and she quickly turned towards the elegant marble sink to clean her face, but he quickly got ahold of her arm and pushed her to face him again.

She honestly didn’t find him in the slightest attractive anymore: his red face had a terrific smile and she felt dirty and used.

“Don’t expect me to let you go after you blew me as a pro, I bet that you fuck even better”.

Everything that Kent had done to her, before almost killing suddenly came back and her fought as the man tried to drag her back in the little bathroom cubicle, but he quickly shut her up, with one hand, meanwhile the other went between her legs, under her gown, hastily pushing down her panties.

He pumped himself a few times, but before he could penetrate her, some force rammed into him and he was pushed onto the ground and when her eyes finally focused, she realized it had been Trevor.

Almost ashamed, she rushed to push her panties back in place and adjust her dress, meanwhile the man screamed against Trevor.

She knew he would fucking judge her an whore.

“What the fuck, man?!”.

“She didn’t want you, Carl, you were fucking forcing yourself on her” he shot back, before picking up the little shit from the floor, and pushing him towards the exit, his pants still undone and his face red “… and if you so much as try to utter something, remember about that pre-nup with your wife… she’ll fucking ruin you, for having cheated on her”.

The man went immediately from red to white and before she knew it, he pushed himself back in control and exited hastily the bathroom, muttering something about “whores being fucking bitches”.

She rushed again to the sink, this time it wasn’t to check her lipstick, but she threw up into it, although she hadn’t eaten much, so nothing but liquid came out of her mouth, a truly disgusting show, but Trevor gently rubbed her back, holding back her hair, and uttering gentle encouragement.

He was nice enough to collect a bit of hygienic paper to clean her mouth, totally smearing her red lipstick, the only exception to Margaret’s modesty rule on her outfit, but effectively cleaning her up.

It was such a gentle gesture that it broke her.

“Get the fuck away from me” she ushered, slurring it as soon as she felt like she could walk away without her legs shaking “… leave me the fuck alone”.

Trevor sent her a bewildered look, one that told her that he didn’t understand her.

Well, he wasn’t the only one.

She had spent the following night, not sleeping just staring at the roof and crying.

Why was she like this?

Why did she feel this morbid need to screw somebody to feel better?

… and to push away anybody who was remotely gentle to her…

She didn’t join Margaret for breakfast, but she eventually went down the stairs to collect something to eat since her troubled stomach was grumbling loudly and she knew that death by starving was a bad look on her.

Not to talk about the fact that it would just take too long.

No, she needed something quick.

She caught Margaret on the threshold, with too many suitcases for a single person, and she immediately smirked as she saw her.

She was low key grateful that Trevor hadn’t uttered anything about catching her blowing some of their friends and then having a mental breakdown.

“.. this week I’ll be on a trip” she commented, cheerily “… the newest haunted house just ready for Halloween!”.

She faked being happy for her sister, before she turned to her mission, collecting something easy to eat, thinking about how she was stuck there with Trevor.

Had he ever cheated on her sister?

She hadn’t noticed any maid sneaking in and out of his “office” or any pretty young thing looking at him with malice.

Meanwhile she was thinking this, she heard knocking onto the kitchen’s walls, and when she turned around she saw Trevor looking at her as if he had found her a wounded animal, not knowing how to approach it.

But she was thankful he had knocked.

And pushed one of the sandwiches she had been doing towards him, a peace-offering.

“Oh no, sweetheart” he commented pushing it back to her “… you need to eat, you look like a scarecrow”.

This got him a playful fist to the side, which he faked had hurt him.

It was such a light moment that she honestly let out a laugh.

This seemed to take aback Trevor, as if he had heard the angelic voice of God.

“… by the way, since Margaret is not here I thought we could go out shopping” he mumbled, a bit shy, as if he was sure she would shoot down his idea “… you can’t go around with those nightgowns, and certainly can’t swim in them”.

She didn’t know why but the shyness in his voice intensified as he muttered the “nightgown” part gaining a smirk from her, and her hands gently traced the light patterns of her nightgown, indeed.

The cotton of it had brushed against her nipples enough to make them bloom in pebbles and she knew that he could see them, although he avoided to look straight up at her body.

“What is wrong with my nightgown?” she asked, feigning innocent, meanwhile he released a light laugh to hide his embarrassment.

“Just think about the heart-attack that we’ll give Margaret once she receives the notice of how much we spent”.

He didn’t have to say anymore.

She was used to men showing off her body, whenever she tried on clothes for them.

They didn’t want anything more than a quickie in the changing room and a pretty girl who smiled for them and wore pretty things.

But strangely with Trevor it was somehow fun: he constantly commented and made her wear the most absurd dresses, muttering about how much she looked ridiculous, just for her to do the same till the shopping clerks had enough of them and threw them out… kindly…

She hadn’t had this much fun… since ever.

They went to lunch to some fast-food place, something that got her to utter:

“Aren’t we supposed to be rich? We can do better than McDonald’s”.

Just for him to shot back as he stole some her fries:

“Is that sarcasm? Because I thought it was your usual tone”.

She just pouted a bit, kicking him under the table but he smirked, eating up his hamburger meanwhile she picked around her food, knowing she needed to speak up.

“… I am sorry for last night” she thought about ripping the band-aid immediately “… I don’t know what came onto me…”.

He stopped holding up a hand, to calm her rushing tone.

“It was the trauma, and I know about it…” he spoke as if it pained him to talk about this “…I was a survivor at Camp Redwood, one of the three alongside Margaret and Brooke”.

She knew that story all too well since Margaret didn’t lose any occasion to remind everybody about the fact that she had survived a camp murder spree not once but twice.

But Trevor, unlike her, seemed like he wanted to forget.

Hence the need for coke.

“… there are some things that make us feel that way and I am not going to judge you for that” he explained as if he got her and the way his eyes were shadowed, as if he was worried about something on his mind “… but if you ever need to talk…”.

“Margaret will pay me a good psychoanalyst” she replied, trying to shift the tense area that was created, although she shot a thankful smile on Trevor’s way, who moved onto slurping his drink.

“… that is the spirit” he commented but his tone was too serious “… if you have money, you can have anything”.

After lunch they were supposed to move away back home, mostly because she was again getting a migraine, but she was unable to stop herself from wanting to visit a bookstore again.

She hadn’t visited many, during her life with Kent, mostly segregated in the “trophy wife” role, so she couldn’t help but brush eagerly her hand through the papers, meanwhile Trevor had gone to the bathroom, asking her not to run away, in the meanwhile.

But she couldn’t help but move through the shelves checking out the newest releases and choosing a few to read meanwhile she looked out to the glasses outside the shop to check on Trevor, but she quickly become too engrossed on an illustrated version of “Little Women” by Louisa May Alcott, one of her favorite books.

She related to Jo on a personal level, remembering her all about the possible dreams she had had about becoming a journalist and a novelist, when she still thought that there was hope in the world.

She was so interested in the re-reading that she didn’t realize that Trevor who hadn’t found her outside. had gone in the bookshop and was gently shaking her, trying not to scare her.

“Hey, found anything interesting?” he asked, eyeing the book and she pushed it closed, immediately rushing to push it back on its original shelf, but Trevor stopped her, collecting the book and moving towards the cash desk, extracting his wallet “… you want to get only this one…”.

Clothes were one thing: she needed them, mostly if Margaret wanted to parade her as her personal corgi.

But books… books were something that made her almost nervous to be gifted, it was a window on her soul she couldn’t accept, and couldn’t let Trevor stare into, but he hadn’t seemed to mind, instead pushing Margaret’s card to the clerk, smirking gently at him.

When they walked away, she was holding a few more packages, Trevor carrying the rest, almost as if they were some kind of happy couple, finally coming back home.

It had been a truly good day, one of the first since she had opened eyes, and she made sure to say so to Trevor: she might still think that he was hiding her something, but she definitely couldn’t help but feel a bit soft around him.

“Thank you, it was a nice day” she thanked him, taking the little bag of books in her hands to try to hide her secret from him, and he smirked, gently caressing her face, and strangely she leaned herself into that simple touch.

“Don’t mention it, I have to say you are the funny sister” he giggled, and she found herself blushing.

“… you are the first one who ever thought this”.

The night she and Trevor had decided to treat themselves to a nice dinner outside in an expensive restaurant, mostly for her to try out the newest outfit she had bought big shoulder-pads with sequins and a tiny waist, giving the perfect hourglass figure, in a very fashionable style.

She almost looked like when she hanged onto older men’s arms, who showed her as if she was  their newest Rolex.

She was almost expensive as one.

“… don’t you think that they will talk about this?” she asked, almost worried: she didn’t want her sister to kick her out because she was standing too close to her boytoy.

“Not if we leave the waiters a huge tip” he replied, making her smirk, meanwhile he helped her out of the car, gentlemanly giving her his arm to hold her close to him, meanwhile they strutted inside.

Dinner was nice, and she was used to this kind of elegant setting, falling back in her charming persona, after a good chalice of wine, which Trevor continued on pouring, insisting on the fact that it made her almost funny.

“… well it almost makes you handsome, so…”.

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice with family?” he retorted, meanwhile he played around with the food in his plate, almost as if he couldn’t focus on it, as she, instead, tried to cut perfectly what she had chosen, into tiny bites.

“Are you my family, Trevor Kirchner?” she replied, sending him a slight glance, under her eyes, almost teasing him.

“I married your sister, or did the wine already get to your head?” but his retort was stopped short, as her legs brushed against his, the silkiness of the stockings she wore against his elegant dress pants, making her laugh loudly at his stunned surprise “… yeah the wine got to your head”.

“Did Margaret tell you what I did before I come to you” she didn’t know if it was the wine talking or the fact that strangely she felt nice, almost comfortable with Trevor.

Alongside the fact that she wanted to fuck him desperately.

Before dinner she had spent a good hour igniting a soft fire in her most private parts, gently touching them and caressing her skin till she reached a lazy and aching orgasm, thinking about him doing it to her.

She couldn’t deny that no matter how much she tried she was attracted by him.

And without no inhibitions she just couldn’t stop her blabbering mouth.

“I got paid to sleep with men…” she linked their eyes together, and pushed her legs apart under the table “… but I had a type you see, I liked old men, older than boys, and they would pay me with nice things”.

“I didn’t know, (Y/N)” his voice was dark, definitely lower and aggressive, asking for more, almost desperately.

“… I liked it, I liked the attention, the gifts, the lavish lifestyle…” she continued, meanwhile she adjusted herself onto the chair, unable to sit straight “… but nobody fucking loved me, isn’t it such a horrible thing”.

“Sweetheart, you are…” Trevor seemed almost confused about what to do, she could feel that he was aroused, but also, he somehow had reigned himself back in control from the state he had gone in, after her confession, as if he pitied her.

“I don’t need your pity” she replied, harshly hissing through her teeth and quitting all her movements, instead reaching out for the wine glass, which Trevor took from her hands.

“I think it is enough” his tone was stern, and before she knew it, he was by her side, helping her up, although she protested, attracting quite the attention.

She seriously hoped the thing about tipping the waiters to keep them quiet was true.

He pushed her into the car, definitely with much more force than when he had helped her out, saying to the driver to rush them home and she immediately pushed herself away from him, almost burned from his sudden reaction.

“(Y/N)…” he tried to call her, but she kept on facing the window, looking out at the cold night, since it started raining and she pushed herself to look at the way the little droplets moved down the window of the car, letting it all lull you in a comfortable nap.

She was awoken by soft arms, pushing her into them, and when she opened her eyes, she found Trevor looking down at her, he seemed worried, but this time there was no pity, which made her wonder if there ever had been.

“… is your head hurting you?” he asked, treating her as if she hadn’t just confessed to him that she was a prostitute and that she had a thing for older men.

She shook her head, lightly pushing herself to bring him closer to her, tightening the grip onto his shoulder, finding comfort in that gentle contact and letting him lead her inside, cradling her closer to his chest and once they were inside he let her gently and softly down, holding her close, till he felt like she was steady again.

He then moved to leave her, but she tightened the grip onto his hand, bringing him back towards her and before she knew it her lips were onto his.

Her hand gently but steadily shifted onto his shirt, already opening the buttons she could slip an hand inside, meanwhile the other slung onto his neck, to bring him closer.

His hand shot up to her thin waist, caressing softly her hips, almost to gently reassure her to keep going.

A thunder shook them apart and realization shone in Trevor’s eyes and as she pushed him closer, he pushed her away.

“Babygirl, we can’t…” she didn’t even stay enough for him to finish.

It was always the same.

For the rest of the entire week she had avoided Trevor, as much as she could in a house in which they were all alone, except for the service maids, with whom she had developed some kind of strange friendship, to spite Trevor.

She spent most days off in her room reading and writing, mostly keeping a diary, but starting again with poetry, writing a few lines.

Even the silliest helped the confusion in her mind.

And they helped her mind going off the swift rejection she had received from Trevor still fresh and hurting.

She was low key glad when Margaret came back, although their first dinner was tense and she was more than happy to get away to the swimming pool, this time with a proper bikini, a red one, which fit her physique and as she dipped back in the water she finally felt like she was breathing freely, away from anything.

She emerged and found two brown eyes following her: Trevor.

She took her sweet time, with a few more laps, hoping he would be annoyed by the time she exited the pool, but suddenly she felt cold and to avoid getting a flu she immediately exited the pool, trying to avoid Trevor, but he quickly moved towards her.

“Can we talk, (Y/N)” he pleaded, but you simply covered yourself with your robe “… or are you going to continue to avoid me?”.

She turned around with violence, suddenly a frenzy anger taking over her.

“I am not the one who pushed away, firstly” she replied spitefully, pushing him away, with a shove of her shoulder, seeing his eyes brighten with surprise “…  I am not the one who refused, I am only doing what you asked me to”.

“Would you let me explain?” he screamed, almost as if he was tired of this argument.

Oh, she had just started.

She surprised him again, gently pushing herself closer to him, their faces so close that their lips brushed again and her hateful eyes became slightly honey, in a deer-eyed expression of purity and want for him, her legs pushed themselves between his pants, completely touching his screaming manhood, wetting it even.

“… I don’t want you to explain” she replied, her voice pointing out each word “… I just want you to fuck me”.

And as she had moved closer to him, she moved away, quickly grabbing the towel she had brought with her, and moving lightly her hips to a non-existent music.

And like this she ran away from him.

It was a week later, when Margaret was away on her trips, that Trevor did the first move, knocking on her door, meanwhile she was finishing her latest poem, which she hid quickly under her pillows, worried that it might be Margaret who had come home earlier.

But again, it was just Trevor.

She didn’t want to say that their relationship had changed, although they had been both civil with each other more for Margaret’s pleasure than because they had worked their issues.

Closer They were cold to each other, if Margaret wasn’t around.

Or better she would be as cold as ice with Trevor, although it didn’t stop her from teasing him, bending a little when she was stretching herself out in her red bikini or bringing her cleavage to be shown more through her new nightgown, a scrap of dark blue lace, much more provocative than her cotton ones.

And Trevor would just look at her as a kicked puppy.

“Caught you off guard, sweetie?” he asked with a poisonous edge to the “sweetie” part, which got her to huff, and adjust herself more comfortably onto her bed, showing off her legs.

“Stop using petnames” she mumbled instead, giving him zero attention, picking up the magazine the maid had left in her room “… it’s annoying”.

“… you just don’t look very like a (Y/N)” he replied, settling beside her and she still gave him no attention, but he grabbed her chin, raising it so their eyes would meet “… you look more like a little girl to me”.

“Ah ah, very funny” she mumbled drily, trying to get out of the grip, but it didn’t work, mostly because Trevor silenced her sarcasm, kissing her.

She immediately tried to rush the kiss, licking his upper lip, and opening her mouth, but Trevor seemed to like taking his time, gently brushing his lips against her own, at first against her upper lip, and then the lower one, before his lips separated themselves from hers.

But they stayed near her, wanting her to beg for more.

But after Kent, she didn’t beg anyone.

Her kiss was more aggressive, but she tried to keep it teasing, nibbling onto his upper lip, and pulling it between her teeth, releasing it with a pop, and pushing herself away.

“… what made you change your mind?” she asked, meanwhile Trevor moved closer to her, pushing himself onto her bed and cornering her gently against the wall “… aren’t you afraid of my sister finding out about us?”.

“As if I would ever give a fuck about that bitch” he replied, and sincerely showed up in his eyes, but if it wasn’t enough, he gently pushed an hand between her hair, bringing her close and gently kissing her cheek “… it’s just, things are going to be complicated with me”.

“I don’t give a fuck about all that, I just want a nice fuck” she retorted, her legs opening beneath him and bringing herself closer so that she could whisper in her ear “… can you do that?”.

Trevor just smirked and before she knew it she was laid onto the bed, with him gently pushing up her nightgown to reveal her baby blue underwear, matching with a lighter tone her nightgown.

“… you just have to say, please, sweetheart” he simply mumbled, meanwhile his voice was muffled by soft nibbling at her exposed thighs, brushing his moustache against it “… you have driven me crazy”.

Her fingers immediately tangled itself in the sheets underneath her, meanwhile she tried to buckle herself up to be more close to him, but Trevor quickly pushed her back, plunging his fingers into her hips, to keep her steady on the mattress against him.

But they shifted their position quickly: one finger started prodding over her panties, as if he was making sure that she was wet enough, as if he wanted to learn the ways of her body.

“… were you already this wet, before I came in the room?” he asked, his voice appearing closer to her head and as she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her as if he was worshipping a goddess, looking at her with intensity and decision, meanwhile his finger didn’t stop his attentive ministrations “… or was this because of me?”.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, old man” she replied, refusing to surrender herself to him so easily and he simply smirked, before he laid a soft kiss onto her forehead, something that her previous lovers had never done and it low key…

… it low key made her feel almost cherished.

Trevor’s finger dipped under her panties, simply playing with the hair he found underneath there, them moving back to teasing her over her panties.

And then back in them.

And then back outside of them.

In a teasing torture that brought her to whine pathetically.

“Is this too much for you, sweetie?” he taunted her, but she didn’t give up, spreading even more her legs, and letting him do her bidding, meanwhile her head turned to face the pillow, her hair a total mess around her “… don’t you want some relief, pretty girl?”.

She did desperately and Trevor knew it, gently dragging her panties down thighs, something that surprised her extremely: he wasn’t treating her as fine china, with his constant teasing, but the soft little attentions he gave her, made her feel damnably alive.

Almost as if he cared about her.

As if it was more than just sex.

He finally gave up to her desire and pushed a finger inside her.

The intrusion, although not unwelcome, was slightly unpleasant, since it had been quite some time since she had last taken something inside of her, but she tried her best to avoid showing anything on her face.

But still Trevor caught on her discomfort, and stilled his movement, backing up a bit, so that he wouldn’t be overwhelming her.

“… is everything alright, little one? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, again… strangely caringly.

“No no….” she tried not to blush, like a virgin “… it’s just been a long time since I last have done this”.

She almost thought that Trevor would make fun of her, but he just grabbed her hand and softly brought it to his lips.

“We are going to take it slow, lovely… don’t worry” he calmed her down softly, treating her with the most kindness she had ever been reserved, and she was just able to nod speechless “… just give me a minute and I’ll make it all better”.

He then lowered himself till he was between her legs, and before she knew it, his lips were onto her clit, suckling it softly at first, wanting to get her used to sensation, although she was unable to stop a soft moan from leaving her mouth, and then with more force sucking the delicate pearl in his mouth, till he engulfed it completely.

And as he felt her shiver pleasantly under him, he started moving his fingers, wetness oozing onto it, and collecting in the little pathway between her ass and cunt, in a creamy liquid, that Trevor licked clean with a quick play of his tongue, once his finger exited her, collecting all her wetness.

And then he re-entered her again, pushing two fingers inside her, and although it was again so sudden, she adjusted more quickly, buckling up and down onto them and onto Trevor’s rough face, his moustache leaving traces onto her thighs and folds, and she could have sworn he was smirking proudly at her.

He moved his fingers inside of her, at first without too much force, and then scissoring them inside her to spread her more, since he, himself, felt the tightness of her walls, slowly crumbling apart due to his attentive ministration.

And when he curled his finger into her, she basically found herself losing herself completely to him and her fingers quickly grappled his wrist, pushing it to stay inside of her, and he just smirked at her, again kissing her forehead and holding her, meanwhile trembles went through her.

“Just let go, lovely, I am here for you” and she did, watching him in the eyes, meanwhile he brought her over the edge with his mouth a breath away from her womanhood, and his fingers in her, letting her ride the orgasm till she had enough.

Sensitive and shaking she pushed him slightly away and Trevor quickly understood her need, and moved away a bit, but he kept watching her, analyzing whether she wanted his help or not.

But as soon as her orgasm finished, and pleasure didn’t obscure her brain anymore, she moved closer to him, searching lazily his lips, mostly to distract him from the hand that went into his pants pushing itself onto his belt, wanting to unlatch it.

But he stopped her.

“What do you want to do, babygirl?” he asked, almost surprised as if he didn’t understand what you had in mind “… you don’t have to���.

“Well the fact is… “ she unlatched her belt, and then pushed it away, lowering his pants, without a single look at anything, finding herself with a very evident bulge in her face, barely contained in his red boxers “… I want to”.

And then her hand came onto his dick, teasing him over his pants as he had done with her, feeling him whine pathetically against her, who simply smirked, meanwhile she continued her teasing, slipping him outside of the boxers just as he started begging her, a constant plead of mercy, that made her feel strong and in power.

And in control.

She smirked as she lowered onto his dick, a majestic one, definitely the biggest she had ever had and the thought of trying to envelop it all, made her nervous, but she didn’t waste time, at first teasing him with kittenish lick, and then gently plopping her lips around the tip, gently teasing it, meanwhile Trevor shifted forward, his hand going up to her hair, but immediately he retreated them, almost scared.

She pushed his cock out of her mouth, with a slick “pop”, gently letting him tangle his fingers in her hair.

“You don’t have to be gentle” she mumbled, meanwhile he softly huffed slightly annoyed “… I am a big girl, I can take it”.

“Can you” he retorted back, but was shut up as she gripped him tighter in her hand, literally holding him by his dick, before she ended again enveloping him, pushing herself even more through her limits and swallowing more, till it hit the back of her throat and she had to grip the ground, trying to calm herself and relax.

In the meanwhile, Trevor had pushed his hands in her hair again, but putting it softly, mostly pushing it away from her mouth and face, in a soft ponytail, loose enough not to hurt her, but steady enough that he helped her taking the rhythm, till she found one on her own, comfortable enough that the sensation almost soothed her.

And so did to Trevor, and she had to remind him, gently bruising her teeth against his cock, making him startle, meanwhile her eyes sparkled maliciously.

“Beauty, let me come” he mumbled, because she had kept him on the edge quite a bit, with a gentle stimulation, but she knew he had had enough and she moved herself to do that trick with her tongue, pushing her tongue under the underside of his dick, probing it till she found the right spot and a salty taste invaded her mouth.

It was so sudden that she had to retreat quickly and some of his seed stained her nightgown and her mouth, which she quickly tried to clean up with the back of her hand, but Trevor was quickly and cleaned up with a little tissue, attentively not to leave any stains.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit like a child.

Then Trevor pushed himself gently against her, kissing her forehead, before he gently pushed himself even closer to her, raising her nightgown, and although some alarms went off in her, she let him take her nightgown off, her body not tampered anymore by any livid.

He kissed her tasting himself deeply, his taste still lingering in his mind, and he then pushed his hand to gentle caress her pebbling nipple and her swollen breasts.

“… you made me feel so good, babe” he mumbled softly, nosing her neck and then whispering in her ear, meanwhile he shifted her in his laps, and there everything went off.

She pushed him off, sweat dripping down her back meanwhile Trevor collided with the ground, achingly moaning out of pain and she swiftly moved off the bed to check up on him.

“Shit, babe, I would have preferred you just said stop” he mumbled as she helped him up.

“I am so so sorry, Trevor” she tried to apologize, helping him back onto his feet “I swear I don’t know what overcame me”.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry” he sighed gently, trying to push her a bit closer, checking with her whether she felt like being held or not “… I just hope that I wasn’t the one who hurt you”.

“No no you didn’t” she mumbled , meanwhile she gently adjusted herself, allowing him to bring her onto his laps, as she decked herself up in an elegant robe in order to shelter her modesty, meanwhile Trevor gently held her in his arms “… you don’t know you why I am here, do you?”.

“Just that you were in hospital, before” he replied innocently, but suddenly his face became more worried, and she honestly felt like he was caring desperately for her, and that this would hurt double if not triple when she final realized it was all so fake.

“… I was put in the hospital, actually” she corrected him and found a sudden anger being harbored in his eyes, but she kept herself from thinking about it “… a year ago, I decided to quit the escort life, because I thought I had found someone who would love me, Kent… but, oh boy was I wrong”-

Trevor didn’t even smirk at her poor attempt to humor, but brought her close, since she had started slowly trembling.

“Little one, you don’t have to continue…” he tried to calm her, but she just smirked sadly at him.

“… no no I want to” she replied, gently hugging herself “…I ditched my life to live with Kent, he said he loved me, and I actually did love him, but… then he started being more violent”.

“At first, he was just possessive, which wasn’t so bad to me, didn’t it mean that he cared for me?”.

“He had never been truly violent, he would grip me tighter and have me have sex with me, although I wasn’t in the mood, but… I owed it to him, he took care of me and I never gave him anything, back”.

“Sweetie, you don’t owe people anything, nor sex, nor your body, nor your time” stopped her discourse Trevor, moving her to look at him in the eyes “… do you understand me?”

He waited for her to nod, before he let her continue.

“On my 21st birthday, he thought I had flirted with this dude, I actually didn’t, I was just being gentle with him, but for him… I was cheating in front of his eyes, making fun of him in front of all his friends, and this wouldn’t just do” she couldn’t help but move back at that night: the way her dress had shifted meanwhile she had tried to move around the room to avoid being hit by the objects thrown to her by Kent “… he slapped me, and I started crying, telling him I wanted out, he didn’t love me anymore…”.

“… he just smirked back at me and told me that he had never loved a fucking shit about me, ‘I was just a fucking good fuck’ and he then proceeded to undress me, to…” her voice broke and she felt Trevor trembling around her, rage coursing through him, but it was in no way directed to her, whom he continued to caress softly, as if petting a scared bird “… he couldn’t, he had drunk too much and I was able to fight him off, but just when I was trying to get my back, he got me from behind, and he started choking me”.

“He almost smashed my head against the wall” her body was suddenly shaken by sobs and Trevor cooed her softly “… I thought I was going to die, but then I heard the ambulance, the guests had been alerted by the screams and they had called the police…”.

Margaret had been alerted by the hospital and she had woken up to her sister’s blonde halo and this constant pain in her head.

The migraine a long-lost sign of anything she had gone through and survived.

She gently leaned onto Trevor’s naked chest, there listening to his soft heartbeat, meanwhile she was lulled to sleep, by that and the soft caress he kept donning to her head.

Truly sleeping peacefully.

The following day, she woke up before Trevor, and although she didn’t regret what had happened the previous night and she didn’t have to worry about Margaret catching them.

Still she didn’t want the maid to worry about the entire thing, since she might end up referring everything to her sister.

That wouldn’t just do.

She had breakfast alone, although she found herself pleasantly enjoying the soft pain between her legs, and the pleasurable ache that went through her as she shifted, taking her time, to choose what she wanted to have, peeling the apple she had chosen and gently waiting for her tea to cool down.

Every attempt to keep her body calm was brought down by a soft hand gently touching her shoulder, not wanting to startle her, showing a smirking Trevor, dressed in that horridly ridiculous pink robe which made her raise her eyebrows, annoyed.

“…started without me, lovely?” his voice dripped with a sexual undertone, she didn’t give too much thought, sending him an annoyed smirk, before he brought her lips to meet his, in a soft “goodmorning kiss” that made her ache for more, wanting to throw away everything that was in the table and let him lay her down on it…

Alongside that she couldn’t just discard the feeling of warmth in her chest.

She had had anything she had wanted and some more…

… it was that “more” that worried her.

“We have to be careful, Trevor” she had to remind him, once their lips parted, but he kept them close to his “… the maids and personal staff might see”.

He giggled, softly setting beside her, his hand gently setting onto her thigh, barely exposed by the new nightgown she had changed in that morning: a beautiful light pink silky thing that complimented her complexion.

“C’mon, babe, I know all the timetables of the people working here, and I know that we could have a quickie on this table and still have some time for something more” she blushed at his bold mention, pushing him lightly away with her shoulder “… you are so cute when you blush”.

She tried not to blush even more, but she didn’t think it as physical possible, mostly when Trevor Kirchner looked at her as if he wanted nothing else but you.

Although he knew how broken she was.

“… and about last night” could he read in other people’s mind “… I’ll fucking kill this Kent, if you want to”.

A strange source of power went through her body and her center started aching for attention again.

The previous night, she had been scared with him, and right now she wanted just to be bend over and given some relief: how the hell did her body work?

Her mind was too far gone that rabbit hole.

“… and you don’t have any fault, sweetie, in case your pretty mind tells you it does, it wasn’t your fault, and I am sorry that you had to undergo everything, most importantly alone, you are not alone anymore”.

“You think that a hook-up means that much for me?” she didn’t want to sound so harsh, but there was no way in hell that they would end up living happily ever after together.

First of all, she was a mess.

Secondly, he was married to her sister.

“I just know that I am glad that we had that talk and that I really like you, (Y/N)”.

Again, with the blushing: she was used to hearing man say that they loved her, but it was never “her”, truly.

It was her body, her cunt, her legs…

Instead Trevor truly meant her.

“Let’s just make no expectation on the other” she simply mumbled, and Trevor nodded, brushing his hand against her thigh, before slowly raising up and finding her wet and aching for him.

“We are going to take things slow” he traced lazy and slow patterns, onto your barely covered core “… take all the time you need”.

And with this he was off: up and running for the swimming pool.

“I think that such a nice day should be celebrated” he mumbled, meanwhile he ran discarding all his clothes around, and she followed him smirking silly.

Meanwhile he jumped in the water, she quickly pushed herself onto the board of it, before she discarded her nightgown, as bare as him.

Offering him a chance to turn away.

He didn’t, he softly grabbed her by the waist and brought her in the water, much to her protests.

But she was happy for once.

---

Lately my fics have done extremely shittily so if you end up coming across this, and feel like it... PLEASE LEAVE AN HEART, A REBLOG, OR A COMMENT... I would truly apprecciate it!

@lovelylangdonx​ @blakewaterxx​ @ bonnieangelface @bish-ima-clown​ @ vrezra

[jafreitag]

2020

On January 1, 2020, I went to LNHQ. The holiday party had happened a few days earlier – a sorta-epic “booze cruise” with Lana Del Rey off the Catalina coast. Everybody nursed hangovers on flights back home, and then bugged off to celebrate their new years with their people.

The office was spotless – just a few dust motes floating across the afternoon sunlight in the conference room. I grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote “What if…” on the green board. It was intended as a turn-the-page talking point. OM and I had had a sit-down after we got back from Cali. Good talk, honestly. He’s well-versed in stuff that I do not understand, and he’s driving the proverbial bus as the new LN CEO. Lotta heartfelt questions from him, lotta heartfelt idks from me. “You gotta…” and “Yeah, I suck at that, but what about…” Some bourbon later, we adjourned. “Love you, dude” and “love you back, man.” Let’s meet next week and ok.

So that’s why I was there. What are we doing? What if… What if we actually try hard? What if ECM keeps killing it on Instagram? What if Jane and Trevor come back? What if we move to a new location, and the corporate and content wings find a new synergy? What if all of the sponsorships pan out? And O’s settlement with Adidas? Sky’s the limit, right? Let your imagination wander. I mean, what if Fiona Apple puts out a new album in 2020, and it’s not just great, but better than The Idler Wheel, which was the best album of 2012?

Seriously. What if?

Or what if the entire world breaks?

That wasn’t in my head back then.

It’s December now. And we’re in a global pandemic, which is getting worse (or at least not getting measurably better) every day. This year has been indescribably difficult for all of us, particularly the ones personally affected by Covid-19. And it has been difficult for businesses across every sector, particularly entertainment. Seen a show lately? Nope? Me, neither. At the beginning of the summer, I paid Laura Marling to watch a stream of her performance at Union Chapel in London. Seemed cool then, seems irrelevant now.

We can’t help artists/bands, really, until we can see them again. And who knows when that will be? Next summer? Next fall? Maybe 2022 before we all feel safe in massive crowds again (even with masks)? Maybe never? Until then, we have streaming services. And … woof. That’s an Apple/Spotify cart that I’d prefer not to upend, mainly because it benefits me, but it’s worth some words.

I’m a Spotify person. My home team is comprised of six Spotify people. We pay, collectively, $14.99/month to stream almost any music ever recorded and released. That’s around $2.50 per person per month. Pretty good deal, right? For sure. Here’s the problem: Spotify pays $0.003 per stream. That’s 1/3 of a penny. If you’re a Zeppelin or a Beatle or a Stone, that’s just a nice little dividend. (Keith is like, “Hey, baby, I love Spot-ify. I bought this sweet fedorah with that check.”) If you’re somebody else, somebody less established in the Rock-royalties pantheon, you’re probably not buying a hat. You’re probably hoping that Spotify might, might, pick up your next cup of coffee – or one at the end of the year, I don’t know how that works.

Spotify does this year-end Wrapped thing. You get a weird Snapchat/Instagram video that tells you stuff. Your most listened-to artist/band, your also-rans, etc. You also get some pretty sweet virtual (and unearned) affirmation.

My win was this.

911 seems good. It’s better than 11. The green-dotify didn’t specify whom those new artists were, which sucks, but I have a decent idea. And I’m guessing that many of those artists have Bandcamp pages, and I didn’t visit any of those. Actually, that’s not true. I did visit the Car Seat Headrest page because Will put out three different iterations of the new record on streaming, cd, and vinyl. It was mostly the same – alternate sequences and some alternate versions of certain tracks. The alternate versions weren’t on Bandcamp. You had to buy all three formats to get the whole record. Or you had to be ok with the iteration that you got. Or you could just find the alternate versions on YouTube. Sure, they wouldn’t be on your phone, but you got to hear them.

That’s not me being petty or cheap. I could’ve bought the cd and vinyl iterations. And I could’ve bought alot of music on Bandcamp, but I couldn’t have bought 911-new-artists worth. How many could I have bought? Not sure. How would I have decided? Not sure. I’m glad that I discovered that many sounds, and I’m concerned that most of those sounds were produced by real people struggling to create in this challenging (intentionally undersold the adjective there, but “terrible” and “horrible” seemed trite) environment. I’m more glad than concerned, if you follow the dichotomy. And I’m not happy about it. Having identified the problem, however, I’m flummoxed about a solution.

I listened to alot of music in 2020. #WFH #FTW (And two hashtag sentence fragments make a sentence. I just checked the LN style manual. Jane said ok.)

Alessandro Deljavan is an Italian pianist, who was born a few months before I graduated high school. He recorded Erik Satie’s piano works. My best friend and I listened to that alot this year – she calls it “sleeping music.” Miles Davis, obv. Early-covid, I made a chronologically-tight playlist of his pre-Columbia material. Mid-covid, I started a chronologically-tight and still-unfinished playlist of his fusion material. Jenny Lin? I think that’s a holdover from last year, when sleeping music was her Chopin’s Nocturnes. CSH was my lawnmowing soundtrack. Daniel Baremboim? No idea, maybe I hit his Mendelssohn’s Leider ohne Worte too many times during the days.

Minutes listened and top genre are what I want to talk about, real quick, before I get list-y. 115,891 minutes is 1,931 or so hours, and 80.5 or so days. I listened to two and a half months straight of music this year. That’s not a brag or even a humble brag. It’s a fact. And most of that (trust me here, I ran my ass off to playlists) was Indie Rock – the aforementioned “new artists.” How can I help them, besides streaming their amazing work over and over and over, and championing them here? Shouting indirectly at Spotify on social media seems unlikely to change a flawed system. Anybody with more constructive ideas can share them below the line.

Ok, the list.

I did it. I broke the unspoken rule (nobody gets #1 twice), and I’m ok with it. 2020 was a unique year. Up top, that’s Fiona from a Zoom call over the summer. She didn’t really know about Liner Notes, but she was willing to talk while walking her dogs. I wasn’t sure that Fetch the Bolt Cutters would be the album of the year at that point, but it was a nice chat. Tbh, I struggled to finalize the list because any of the Top 10 could’ve been Top. The margins were very fine. (And fwiw, I may tweak things a bit over the next few weeks.) Links to Spotify. And COME ON, Spotify. Pay artists more, and pay indie artists even more than that.

Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters

Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher

Waxahatchee – Saint Cloud

This Is the Kit – Off Off On

HAIM – Women in Music Pt. III

En Attendant Ana – Juillet

Samia – The Baby

Kelly Lee Owens – Inner Song

Adrianne Lenker – songs / instrumentals

Porridge Radio – Every Bad

SAULT – Untitled (Black Is) / Untitled (Rise)

Taylor Swift – folklore / evermore

The 1975 – Notes On A Conditional Form

Car Seat Headrest – Making a Door Less Open

Perfume Genius – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately

Lomelda – Hannah

Fleet Foxes – Shore

Soccer Mommy – color theory

Beach Bunny – Honeymoon

Retirement Party – Runaway Dog

Shopping – All or Nothing

Ela Minus – acts of rebellion

The Strokes – The New Abnormal

Fontaines D.C. – A Hero’s Death

Kate NV – Room for the Moon

Dehd – Flower of Devotion

Gum County – Somewhere

Bad Moves – Untenable

Jeff Tweedy – Love Is the King

Laura Marling – Song for Our Daughter

Autechre – SIGN

Four Tet – Sixteen Oceans

Sorry – 925

Dream Wife – So When You Gonna…

Fenne Lily – BREACH

Margaret Glaspy – Devotion

Jordana – Something to Say to You

Hinds – The Prettiest Curse

Gorillaz – Song Machine: Season One

Tame Impala – The Slow Rush

Tycho – Simulcast

Ólafur Arnalds – some kind of peace

Ezra Feinberg – Recumbent Speech

Slow Pulp – Moveys

Young Jesus – Welcome to Conceptual Beach

Bartees Strange – Live Forever

U.S. Girls – Heavy Light

Empress Of – I’m You’re Empress Of

Charli XCX – how i’m feeling now

Oliver Coates – skins n slime

LN is on hiatus for a little while.

More soon.

JF

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