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fendixlexii · 7 months ago

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THIS FIC IS JUST SO😩😩😩

Blink Twice

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: After pushing your body to the brink, it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Murder, Abuse, Male Manipulation, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Handcuffs, Exhibitionism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Fingering, Somnophilia, Period Sex, Bodily Fluids.

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

"H-How do you keep breaking into my apartment?" If it weren't for the fact that you were currently being fingered awake, you might have found it in yourself to sound more angry.

But you weren't awake, and he had taken advantage of your unconscious state just enough to bend down over your sleeping frame, and slip his hands between your legs.

You had promised yourself a quick power nap on the couch, anything that might lessen the pain that had been steadily blooming in your left arm. That nap had stolen you throughout most of the day until, here he hovers over you- the man who is undoubtedly the culprit for all this bodily pain you're in- with his fingers inside you.

“There you are, sleepy head,” His face is so close, you can see the smile wrinkling his face. His smile is bright and kind but his fingers aren't. They're stretching your cunt out, wrenching a moan from deep within you as you stare down at your hips moving off the couch.

“Fuck…” Your voice cracks as he scissors his index and middle finger inside you, still on a mission to split you apart. You drown in the scent of his cologne and his perfectly new suit- a black one today.

You throw your head back, feeling the pressure mount as you grind down against his fingers all while he watches with immense satisfaction.

“Can't- just-” you gasp when your wetness seeps out of you and onto the couch. “Can't-Do-This-” For all those moments you forget that you're nursing a sore arm. As you grind down against his ruthless fingers.

You forget that he might have seriously injured you this time.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispers hoarsely, forcing an orgasm out of you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You look breathtaking when you're unconscious.”

As the orgasm passes, you try to wake yourself up and become more aware of your surroundings.

Your body is shaking once he's done with you. Your cunt aches and reality sets back in. “Get out of my house.”

He straightens his tie before standing to his full height again, “You say that like I don't own the place,"

He's smiling stiffly as he stands before you, clutching that bloody briefcase, having come to collect you for another round of games...

Something inside your worn-out soul breaks at the sight of him so unfathomably fazed. You were experiencing another round of those 'realization moments'.

You have actually gone and sold yourself to a sadist.

Especially now that he's gone and done it again. After vehemently expressing that he 'please be a little more gentle with you', he insisted on pushing your body to the brink of its abilities. Toying with you and punishing you and releasing all the workings of those sick, sick, sick games on you, and for what?

It hits you more often than not these days.

A paid apartment? Paid university fees?

You try to keep your sleepy eyes unkind as you glare up at him but even you blanch at how much of a necessary force he's made himself in your life.

"And how often are you going to remind me that all my resources are tied to you?" You rise from lying supine, waiting for the world to stop spinning before you start stretching. None of your limbs protest as much as yours left shoulder that practically howls in pain. He watches you with robotic intrigue.

"I thought I should make good on that promise to take you out.”

"Take me out?" He notes the way your good shoulders tenses and smiles.

"I already said I've got no plans to kill you. You're the most fun I've had in years and years." He says "I want you to go to dinner with me."

"You wanna take your abuse victim out to dinner... looking like this?" you try to lift your arm but it protests, sending a sharp pain through your entire left side.

"I think you look rather beautiful."

"You would think this is what beauty looks like."

A tense silence falls.

"You're angry." He tilts his head, "And in pain."

You scoff venomously then, "Whomever might the culprit be?" You ask sarcastically before picking yourself up from the couch. You're cradling your arm, dragging your worn body across the floor to the adjoining kitchen.

"My fucking arm still hurts." You nearly cry as you squeeze the words out. Shooting a teary-eyed glare at your sadist from the kitchen.

"Tonight is your celebration dinner and it's way overdue." He busies himself by folding up the quilt that had been draped along your sleeping frame, "All my virtues rest on giving credit where credit is due, and you my dear..." the gaze he arrests you in is warm, and penetrative, like you were being reminded that he owns your body and soul, "-have done stellar work for me."

It's said in a wave of reverence you didn't really expect.

"Let me take you out,"

Sure he was sociopathic, and deranged, and everything you should most definitely be seeking refuge from, but the sentiment in his voice is genuine. As if, after 40 years on this earth, with the violent tendencies he had undoubtedly been born with, here is someone that's actually helping him. That's what you're doing, you're helping him. But it comes at a steep, steep price.

"You have virtues?" You ask sarcastically, causing the once intense moment to scatter and lighten.

"And your humor would be missed if I killed you. Where else would I find someone with such a stellar sense of humor and almost no sense of self preservation?" He asks aloud, as he walks towards the counter that separates you both. "You should've asked for help the first day you met me-"

"You offered to pay my shit if I played your games, who would walk away from that?”

"You should've." He smiles. "But I'm glad you didn't." His smile reaches those dead, almond eyes, "And tonight we have a celebration dinner."

"I can't go out," you say, turning your back on him to drink water.

His voice is dark when he says, "Can't or won't?"

"Can't." You slam your cup down against the sink, earning a thick wave of silence. You were never angry with him before. Never. "I think you broke something." You say, turning slowly, still cradling your arm like a baby.

There's a jarring amount of care in his voice as he rounds the counter to walk closer towards you. He examines your arm with deceptively soft eyes as he softly says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

You look up at him with blank eyes, "Try not to get off thinking about it," you snip back. Sarcasm was your only weapon.

"I couldn't help myself," He rests his large hand on your arm, "you know that right?

"Y-Yes," your resolve falters and you're back to being his submissive. "I don't blame you."

"In fact." He nods along with you, conditioning you to accept his view of the events as he says, "Our session this past week had been nothing short of magical."

You're not quite sure if that was a reliable portrayal of the events but your weak mind is already fitting the memories to be so.

Somehow, you're thinking of the events with less anger: how he had snapped real, silver handcuffs on your wrists, resting them behind your back while you were being fucked from behind. It had been blissful until he pulled too hard on the left and you screamed and you blacked out.

Now here he stands before you, drenched in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a brand new black suit, smelling of fine cologne, telling you it was magical.

He came when you broke your arm.

"Alright, I'll come with you," he decides with finality, prompting you to snap out of your daze.

"No, I can go myself!" You move around him to gather your things.

"Unless you've magically obtained the ability to communicate in Korean then I suggest I come with you." He watches you race across your tiny apartment, gathering your things.

"There are English speaking doctors I'll be f-uck." As you were searching for your phone between the couch, you angered the arm, causing another wave of pain to blossom.

"I'm taking you." He stands by the doorway, "Let's go."

Your nostrils flare as the real reason for your discomfort rears its head. "B-but what if..."

You let the words die on your lips. Choosing instead to look at him, hoping your eyes relay the severity of the implications that might arise from a simple trip to the hospital. All those questions.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me." He says, still smiling.

"Worry?" You snort as you make your way to the front door where your sneakers sit, "If you go to jail who's gonna make me cum?"

He clutches at the space where a heart ought to be and says, "And here I was thinking you were falling in love with an old man like me."

"You can't love anything," you shoot back coldly.

"I can't," he confirms, "but you can."

You move away from the conversation like It's growing teeth.

"Let's just go," you mumble quietly, heading out the door, not looking back and knowing he'd follow.

𓂃

The hospital is bombarded by the smell of antiseptic and busy bodies in white coats whizzing all around you. It's dizzying actually being here as the severity if it all comes hammering down on you. You didn't like being around so many people at the best of times- even attending university everyday was met with its fair share of anxiety. Almost on instinct, you curl a little closer into his side, letting your right hand slither over his wrist. Surprisingly, he lets you.

"What should I say?" It only strikes you now that you probably should have rehearsed some script since 'I'd like to seek medical attention because I'm meeting with a homicidal sadist weekly who pays my bills and my body is finally giving out,' probably wouldn't be a good way to go.

The confidence in his stride leaves you brimming with nervousness. Your less than orthodox dynamic has already made a few passers by stare but here, inside the hospital, you feel like the only two humans to exist.

"I'll do the talking," he reassures and something inside you sighs. This is what made him such a necessary force for you. He handled way more than you ever could. He moved through the world, headstrong and in charge. He was everything you weren't.

"Good day-" he says to the nurse manning the front desk, "I'd like to get my wife treated for a possible fracture or broken bone-"

Wife.

It rings through your ears.

Meanwhile, kind eyes- genuine, human eyes- look at you from across the desk. You realize then how little contact you've had with anyone normal. Anyone real.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmurs and your heart tugs at the kindness drenched in her voice.

"Alright, Sir, it's just-" the nurse gestures towards the rest of the waiting room, "We're just busier than we usually are for a weekday so you might have to wait a while-"

"You have medical aid?" You enquire softly, letting your side bump against him. "Who the hell are you?"

He stares down the small woman as he reveals a glistening card from his wallet. She quickly looks at you before she tentatively takes the card and types away at her computer.

Somehow, up until this point you had fooled yourself into believing you were on the road to autonomy, that going to university and being a woman in her 20s away from home meant you were finally obtaining sweet sweet independence but in actuality... you were just a little girl, deluding herself into thinking the city might be kind to her. It's swallowing you whole. And you're being left to watch.

It made you aware of how completely vulnerable you had really been. You could barely afford rent, let alone something as luxurious as medical aid. For all your time in this city you tried not to get hurt because medical bills would eat you alive and here he was, whipping a card out.

"Right this way-" The little nurse moves from behind the counter, and almost immediately, you hear a distinct uproar in the waiting room behind you. "I think doctor Park will see you, but we'll first head over for X-Ray and-"

"Hey!" The sound startles you, causing your shoulders to tense as you grip on your Salesman's forearm, making sure he's still there, "We've been here for 4 hours," You meet the haggard glassy eyes of a middle aged man. He's scowling at you as if you've committed a grave murder right before him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The nurse begins, her voice filled with concern, "This hospital is legally obligated to help out those with medical aid first-"

Shoes click against the cold floors. A shadow descends as your Salesman steps forward as if protecting you from the man's vehemence. Time stands still in the moments he makes his venomous proposition. A proposition so vile it nearly had you vomiting here all over the hospital floors.

"My wife needs a new heart-" he begins, gesturing to a woman- a ghost seated in the chairs behind him. Her skin is practically translucent as she stares off into space. "Who knows how much time we're wasting while we're being forced to wait here-"

"Are you up for a game of rock, paper, scissors by any chance?" Your salesman asks, causing your heart to sink. The man examines him as if he's grown a second head.

"If you win a single round against me, I will pay for your wife's medical treatment. New heart." At the peroration of his incredibly insensitive and evil proposition, your Salesman smiles.

"One round." He says, before his eyes snap to the woman pulling at her husband's arm.

"She doesn't look too well," The Salesman pouts and you walk up towards him, limbs shaking as you whisper-yell in his ear, feeling all your nerves being shot out of you.

"Jesus, you're fucking disgusting."

"Birds of a feather-" he whispers back, before refocusing his attention onto the man.

Meanwhile the nurse tries to pull you away but you're rooted to the floors. This whole ordeal makes you realize that you've never actually seen him interact with normal people. It makes you wonder where he goes when he's not with you. You'd almost believed that he's a fragment of your delusions, something your lonely brain cooked up to make you believe someone in this city cared about you. But he's real. And he has a life outside the two of you.

"Don't you wanna help your wife?" He continues to tempt the man, "Look at mine-" the Salesman said, gesturing to you. "She's a little battered and bruised but she's alive. You're not dying any time soon, right honey?"

You rip your eyes away from him just as your nurse returns. She places a warm arm on your forearm and in the midst of the game, she places a card in your hand. "Let's go for your x-rays,"

While they play their game, you look down at the piece of paper.

Blink twice if the man you're with is the one who assaulted you.

Call it female intuition.

You have no idea what could've led to the fact that he was the one but the nurse is watching you with a heavy gaze and bated breath. You almost drown in the concern she holds for you, a mere stranger.

In another life, you might've had a friend like her. She's relatively young, budding with youthfulness, actually. You imagine she has a boyfriend. An actual one. One who holds her bag while she's shopping. One who kisses her. These kinds of people develop empathy. The ‘fixed people’. You can tell she knows love.

“I-”

“Rock, paper, scissors-”

You blink once before looking away and the nurse sighs in relief.

"Better luck next time." You watch with bated breath as the man draws a rock to the Salesman's paper.

𓂃

An oblique fracture, they called it. The thing that's been plaguing your left arm for a week has finally been given its name. You're walking out of the doctor's office feeling light and remarkably relieved to leave this place and all its people. He walks confidently beside you, having sat through the whole ordeal. He had been there as they fashioned the pink cast over your arm and he walks beside you now, like your own personal well-dressed shadow.

On your way out, you pass by the receptionist's desk, she smiles over at you but glares at the Salesman. Just as you're about to make it out, you hear her voice.

“You said she's your wife,” the woman speaks up, causing you both to stop. “I don't see a ring.”

Cold, white, fear runs down your spine and your hand that was in his, squeezes as silence envelops you both.

“Good Day,” is all he says with an amicable smile before pulling you along.

Silence enveloped you on your taxi ride over to the Japanese restaurant comfortably situated in the Gangnam district. He had been remarkably quiet in the taxi driver over and he is remarkably quiet now as you're being led to a booth in the restaurant. It's adequately filled with its patrons. Families and couples like perhaps you two were. You wonder if he has these thoughts…

“She did make a good point,” you mumble as you take a seat in the booth, watching silently as he slips in beside you. “If you're going to be telling people I'm your wife and they don't see a ring…”

He sets his briefcase in the booth beside you both, sighing softly as he mumbles, “People don't usually marry their toys, do they?”

Before you're able to respond, a waiter walks up to your booth, having his pen and notepad at attention as he asks for your order. You watch your Salesman expertly lay down your order, everything from yakitori, to miso soup to onigiri. It's mesmerizing watching him order for you and you suspect it had the same effect on you. His hands on your thigh squeezes slightly, while you silently let him order. In a moment the waiter vanishes.

“You're so old,” you say suddenly, trying to make up for the silence and the nervousness raging through your heart. This is the first time you're out with him in a public setting and its setting you alight with worry. “I'm sure you remember when Korea was under Japanese occupation,”

“Keep making your little jokes,” he says, sipping on his complimentary water as he allows his back to rest against the seat, “And I might not be so forgiving…”

His hand rests his hand on your thigh, it's the only thing you're able to focus on. How his fingers cover so much space. The sheer size of it. The sheer size of him. You feel so completely small beside him, you almost don't realize that he's begun talking again.

“My father fought in the war when he was ‘round about your age,” that brings you clean out of your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to meet his but he's staring aimlessly ahead, as if reminiscing on something beautiful.

“Jesus I-” you swallow thickly, “That was a bloody war,”

He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your thigh to undo the buttons of his blazer.

“More than 3 million dead.” He says taking another sip.

“Right.” You nod, heart hammering when he places his hand back on your thigh. “2 million soldiers and 1 million civilians,” he places the glass back down on the table and he shakes his head slightly, twirling his index.

“Swap the numbers around.”

“Right…” you clear your throat, keeping your gaze locked on your lap, “That's... heartbreaking. I'm sorry.”

He turns his head, finally regarding you under the dimness of the hanging light fixtures. He tilts his head to the side in that way he does when he's particularly intrigued by you. “You are sorry, aren't you?”

You nod.

“But I have no idea why, you're not a Japanese fascist from the 40s.”

“No, but I have empathy.”

“Curious.” He replies back, before letting silence fall.

“Spread your legs,” he says so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Your head snaps up to him as you begin to plead.

He couldn't do this. There had to be some sort of refractory period in which he let your body recuperate.

“I’m in pain-” you grit out through your teeth, but his large hand is already seeping to the center of your closed legs, trying to pry them apart.

“Your legs work just fine.” He whispers, letting his mouth graze your ears, “Your cunt works just fine,”

You place a hand on his forearm. “The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

“Do you listen to the doctor or do you listen to me?” He asks, staring at you deep into your frightened eyes, forcing you into that liminal space of submission. Your eyes were brimming with not only fear but embarrassment.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers,

“I'm on my period,”

Another troubling moment of contemplation falls between you both and you're left to stare deep into each other's eyes as the restaurant's cultural music makes the ambience swell. It could be romantic, this energy that's festering between you two.

Even though you know it's anything but, you allow yourself to dip into those pools of delusion.

“You were fine this morning,” He says, and you note the grogginess that's begun to veneer his voice as he looks down at you.

Young, impressionable, darling you.

“I got it before we left, that's why I asked to use the bathroom again- point is,” you tug on his arm, “We can't.”

His eyes soften and for a split second, you think you see kindness there. Your gaze falls to his lips, anticipating the words they'd form.

“Spread your legs,” he says once more, before applying the necessary force to pry them apart yourself. “Let me in, Doll.”

A small whimper escapes you as you open your legs. You let him drift his hand under your skirt. His fingers are cold to the touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inches them towards your cunt.

The second his fingers graze over your mound you gasp slightly before sitting forward with your head bowed. Your cast is behind the table as you hide your head in your hand. He watches you with heavy eyes, “It's rude to have your elbow on the table.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to muffle yourself by the palm of your hand. You feel him swipe your underwear away. You feel his fingers dip into the pool of wetness at your entrance. Wetness you knew was not arousal.

“Don't look at me like that,” you mumble, staring down at the table as his fingers rub against your slick folds.

“Like what?” He asks.

In your periphery you can see him hunched over you slightly, his eyes on you and you alone. It was tiring having his attention. And so incredibly dangerous.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

He bends down, letting his fingers graze over your clit as he whispers, “I do. That's all I wanna do.”

The waitress returns with your food and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you,’ While your Salesman keeps his gaze locked on you.

“Grind down on my hand,” he urges and you shake your head,

“Do it.”

“Or what?” That was probably the worst thing to say to a sadist who looks like he's brimming for you to give him a reason to hurt him.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you.”

You were feeling particularly stubborn today. The injury, the nurse, the hospital, the man and his wife… you're disgusted with this man beside. It dawns on you then that you have to get away from him.

“You can't do that-” you begin to whine but his voice is like steel when he reolies, “I thought we've established that there are many things I can do and very few I can't.”

All is quiet.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you, I've been dying to play in your blood.”

You're still wrestling with either of your options, trying to outweigh the good against the bad was impossible when both choices just seemed bad. It puts you at an unfair disadvantage and you are drowning.

“W-Wait-”

“Times up.” He mumbles before removing his hand from your underwear. You're utterly horrified to find it stained in crimson.

He calls over the waiter, at least having the decency to hide his bloody hand behind your back as he politely says, “My wife is quite sick, could I be pointed to the bathroom, please?” He sounds so amicable, so deceptively kind, of course the waitress quietly urges the two of you to the bathrooms nestled at the back of the resturant.

“I'll do it-” you breath heavile as he urges you past tables, “I'll do just-”

“You picked too late," he whispers in your ear as he steers you into the female bathrooms. “Disqualified.” He says before pushing you into a sta. You could only thank your lucky stars that the stalls are empty but that is where you luck runs dry.

It's only you and your monster who's fervently unzipping his pants before locking you both in a cubicle.

“My arm hurts-” you begin but he turns you around, pushing your back against the door.

“Your cunt still works.” He repeats, “I didn't get to drive a knife into it the last time-” he whispers hoarsely as he plays drunken kisses all across your collarbone. You hate to admit how dizzying the effect of his kisses are. How they carry you off into a completely different mental state- where everything becomes morally grey. You felt like you could get off to almost anything in this state and so you don't bat an eye when he says, “I need to see your blood on my cock,”

In fact, you moan, trying to find your bearings as you slip so far into subspace. “You're not allowed to pass out on me-” he says, manically, breathing oh so heavily as he pulls his cock out over his slacks. “I'm not even using any of our favorite toys, you do not get to pass out.” He warns before slotting himself between your legs.

“W-wait- pull your pants all the way down, otherwise-” you hiccup, “I'll make a mess.”

A deep and low groan reverberates through his chest and you watch him lower his pants all the way down, revealing sculpted legs before he brings his cock to your cunt. It's wet enough to allow him to slide in smoothly, and he looks down between you, pressing down on your tummy as he watches your blood soak his cock.

“Here taste your blood,” He's prying your teeth open and you let him. Crimson floods your mouth and you moan around his fingers. There's a manic sort of edge to his laugh as he admits, “I’m not gonna last quick.” before he's kisses you deeply, grinding himself into you

“Fuck- you're filthy.” His eyes are absolutely insane as he drives his cock into you setting an unforgiving ppace. He snaps his hips against you, trying to drive his cock in further and further.

“Cum- I'm gonna cum-” He pulls back to urge, just as you hear someone walk into the bathroom. He's breathing heavily, surprisingly being mindful of your cast as he dips his hand down to your cunt. His fingers drag across the blood like it's the most fascinating thing on earth, and that has you cunt tightening around him.

A toilet flush, just as a whimper seeps through your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you take his brutal fucking, watching him stab your cunt with his cock like he's daring himself to break you.

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling your violent cries as you buck your hips against him. Your own period pains that were flooding your system is beng fucked away. Your thighs and his pelvis are absolutely stained in crimson and his eyes are rolled back. Thankfully, the door opens and closes and you are alone once again.

“I love playing in your blood-” his voice cracks. Meanwhile, he's using you like a ragdoll. Through it all, you manage to ask the question plaguing your mind.

“Did he…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, “Did your dad make it back?”

He rears his teeth, smiling in that twisted way that was far different from the smiles he gave everyone else. Only you got to see him like this. “Yes, Doll, he did.”

“W-What happened to him-oh god-” he picks up his pace grabbing your hips and pulling your cunt down on his cock.

“I killed him.” His eyes roll back into his skull and your mouth falls open. His cum floods your system and in that same moment his pelvis grazes along your clit, triggering your orgasm. You cum with tears in your eyes and it fills you with unmistakable dread.

If this man was capable of ending someone in his own bloodline, who were you in his eyes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don't look so scared.” He whispers, still grunting as he emptied himself inside you, “He was useless. You- you're not useless.”

He kisses your face. Everywhere he can.

“You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Compose yourself.”

You breathe in thickly.

In and out.

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fendixlexii · 7 months ago

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Fanfiction Club: The Rules

This idea came to me when I woke up first thing this morning.

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fendixlexii · 7 months ago

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A Thin Line Between Fame & A Genius: ⚠️ PLEASE READ!

THIS STORY ALSO INVOLVES: Mature Themes, Smut (eventually), Mental Health, Stalking, Obsession, Violence, Abuse, Sensitive Content, Sexual Harassment/ Assault, death, and drugs.

SO FOR FUTURE READERS, SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

(Not my gif, found on Pinterest!)

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #black oc #black!reader #A Thin Line Between Fame & A Genius #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #dead dove do not eat #tigger warning #spencer reid imagine

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fendixlexii · 7 months ago

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A Thin Line Between Fame & A Genius: Chapter 2

(NOT MY GIF, BELONGS TO @chicastrology )

Faizah Alston. Better yet known as the Amorous Runway model. She's gorgeous, exquisite, magnificent, and much more. What happens when Faizah suddenly gets a stalker so viciously to the point that the FBI has to be involved in this case and someone catches her eye?

T/W: THIS STORY ALSO INVOLVES: Mature Themes, Smut (eventually), Mental Health, Stalking, Obsession, Violence, Abuse, Sensitive Content, Sexual Harassment/ Assualt, death, and drugs

I'D LIKE YOU TO BE WARNED, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

"AMOROUS! AMOROUS! AMOROUS! LOOK OVER HERE!"

"FAIZAH YOU LOOK STUNNING, WHO MADE THAT DRESS?"

"FAIZAH, TELL YOUR BODYGUARD TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY AND TURN TO THE OTHER SIDE!"

Sometimes, I wish the paparazzi would just do two things: stop harassing me and being rude to every person to get a glimpse of me to get a raise that's probably just worth two fucking dollars or treat people how they would want to be treated which is perhaps kind (if not, then they are just a sadist) and to treat me with proper respect. Unfortunately, that will never happen.

I turn to my bodyguard, James Wilson. He's been my bodyguard since I started modeling, and I love that man like he's my father. He has been there through my ups and downs, and I appreciate him for that.

"Frosty, I'm so sorry, the villains are being extra rude today," I said to him with remorse.

I call him Frosty because-

"It is okay, Faizah, these no-brainer having fucks don't have anything to do with their lives instead of pestering celebrities like yourself." He mumbles with no emotion on his face.

See what I mean?

I turn to the paparazzi, "I'm sorry, everyone, that will be enough pictures today, I have to go inside because I have to prepare for the show, but for the feature preferences, do NOT yell at me, my bodyguard, and my team again. You do NOT have to be rude to me and them; it's called being decent human beings." I said, trying to hold my composure

I turn towards my bodyguard.

"Let's go, Frosty; we can start heading into the building," I said as we started walking into the building.

As we walked into the building, I saw many people working, especially the police. Just the thought about why they are here sends shivers through my body. I approach the other models, standing around the show producer and backstage manager. As I proceed to do so, I hear whispers about my presence being here at the show and the latest gossip about my 'stalker.' What a pain.

"My dear Amorous! My light and my perfect fire that never goes out when you're on the runway. How are you, my darling?" The show producer asks me as he pushes everyone out of the way to get to me.

"I'm perfectly fine and extraordinary, thank you for allowing me to grace you to make your show, thee show that that'll never forget," I said with confidence.

"No, thank you, Amorous, for gracing ALL OF US with your presence."

"No, thank everyone, including the workers and the other models," I said with a smile.

Although I am the most popular runway model, I am very humble because it's either be humble or someone or something is going to humble you very quickly. Not only that, it took a while for me to get my popular status, meaning I had to start from the bottom to get to the top.

"I thank EVERYONE for being able to come here so we can have one of the best shows in New York! Now everyone takes a ten-minute break, then take your places so we can do what we need to do with no problems. MY LOVELY LOVELY MODELS! After your ten-minute break, start getting your gorgeous, beautiful selves ready." He said

"yes!" everyone says

I go towards James, standing at the beverages and snacks table. I almost giggled when I saw one of the models trying to flirt with him relentlessly, but he was not paying her any mind. He is married, after all.

"James, I need you to escort me to my dressing room, and can you grab me a water bottle?" I asked him politely.

"Yes, Ms. Alston," he says while getting my water and a couple of snacks for himself.

We began to walk towards my dressing room in silence. Normally, we hold conversations, but this stalker has me on edge, and on top of that, I just know what the other models are thinking, but what if they are right? I can't allow this stalker or myself to fuck this show-up, anything but that.

"Faizah, I know you are panicking, and it is completely normal to do so. You know that you are gonna knock em dead when you walk on this runway. You didn't hire me for anything; I can't say, don't let this stalker knock you off your game because if I was you, i’ll be scared shitless, but this is what im here for. As long as im alive and here, I won't let anything happen to you." He says, causing me to break my chain of thought.

"But James, what if the stalker does something while im on the runway? What if they do something to the point I have to retire-

"That's nothing going to happen to you, not while im here say it." James cuts me off

"T-There nothing going to happen to me while you're here," I said nervously.

"Now, I will stand outside your dressing room and eat these snacks while you prepare for the show. Knock 'em dead, Faizah." He tells me while opening the door to my dressing room.

"I will, thank you, Frosty," I said, smiling at him and walking in.

When I finally closed the door, I was automatically greeted by the familiar faces of Evelyn and Sophia Haze, the twins of the runway and, as I like to call them, the queens of divorce. The reason for this nickname is because the men that they'll sleep with want to always divorce their wives to get with them. Other people can't stand them, and frankly, I can't either, but it's not because of their sex life no, I will never shame a woman for how many sex partners she has simply because they are just enjoying basking in pleasure when we get called all kinds of bitches and whores while a man could sleep with thousands and thousands of women and gets praised for it.

Another reason why I hate the way how our world works.

I simply cannot stand them because I believe that they are two-faced, and I believe that they told my business to Scarlet Cree.

"Oh my goodness, Faizah, how are you doing? I’m surprised that you are even here." Sophia says while walking to her side of the room

"Like really so bravee,” Evelyn slurs out

She's high, and everyone knows it because of her cocaine addiction. It's personally sad seeing her like this because she honestly has potential on the runway. I tried to offer her help once, but her sister accused me of trying to sabotage her, although I wasn't, I guess that's what I get for being in people's business.

I take a sit at the vanity to turn on the light, seeing my face clearly so I can start my makeup process. "I'm doing fine. Thank you guys for checking up on me, but I'm not going to let something or someone stop my success."

Sophia took a small baggie out of her bag and started to line up. " Honestly, you are so brave for doing that. I could never show my face again!" she exclaims while she snorts the drugs up her nose.

"Well, thank goodness you aren't me because if you were in my shoes, your career as a model would've been over in a snap of my fingers." putting my primer on.

As I suddenly felt eyes burning the back of my head, "What was that? Are you disrespecting me?" Sophia says

Putting my foundation on my face, not about to break a sweat about what I'm about to say, "I'm not disrespecting you; I'm just telling you what would happen if you were in my shoes. You couldn't even fit your feet in my damn shoes, little girl, because they are simply too big for you to even fill. You wouldn't last a day if you were me. By the way, you might wanna stop snorting those drugs in your nose; you're getting sloppy on the runway."

Evelyn gasped as she heard me say that to her sister. "She told you off, Sophia."

"Shut up, Evelyn!" Sophia says.

"Now, let's just cut the small talk so we can get ready," I said as Sophia and Evelyn started doing their makeup.

I just want this show over with already.

"OKAY! PLACES, PLACES, PLACES, EVERYONE TAKE YOUR PLACES, THE SHOW IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!" the backstage manager says while clapping his hands.

As I began to walk with the other models, I couldn't help but look at the midnight blue gown that featured an engraved wave-like pattern in crepe fabric that sculpted my waist and fitted my waist perfectly. Luckily, it was made by Tony Ward, one of my favorite fashion designers. I love that man's work.

"My dear Amorous, are you ready, dear?" The show producer asks me

I turned to the show producer, "Of course, I am always ready."

"Let's go, everyone it's time!" I heard, so I made sure that I looked beautifully for the runway, and just in case I didn't have an accident on the runway, I jumped three times in heels.

Now I am ready.

I began to be first walking down the runway, clutching the bottom of my gown between my hands as I looked at the bright lights the cameras provided me with. Getting to the middle of the runway, I stop and let go of my hands, letting the gown fall gracefully, making sure everyone sees the gown that covers my gorgeous body. As I finally made it to the end, I made a turn, picked up the bottom of my gown, and started running like a runaway bride.

As I turned at the end of the runway, the crowd erupted into applause, but I barely heard them. My heart was pounding, not from nerves but from the thrill of commanding all eyes in the room. I glanced over my shoulder as I blew a kiss, a playful wink to everyone watching—a reminder that this stage was mine.

Backstage, the energy was electric. Models whispered last-minute encouragements, stylists dashed around with brushes and pins, and someone shouted to bring more hairspray. I sank into the chair, letting the stylist's gentle hands work magic on my hair.

"You're a star out there, Ms. Alston," the stylist murmured shyly.

I smiled, catching my reflection in the mirror—a woman owning her moment. "You're part of the magic. Remember that." For a second, their fingers stilled, and they nodded, a flicker of pride lighting their face. This was more than a runway—it was a shared dream.

As the backstage buzz faded into the distance, I finally slipped into the sleek black car waiting just outside the venue. The city was alive with energy, neon lights reflecting off rain-slicked streets, but the silence inside the vehicle felt like a sanctuary to me. As James sat beside me, his eyes scanned their surroundings with vigilance.

"Great show tonight," James said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of admiration in his tone.

"Thanks, James," I replied, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she sank back into the plush seat. I glanced out the window, watching as the chaos of the city whirled past. My mind replayed the evening's moments—the glowing runway, the applause, the stylist's kind words. It felt surreal, but as the car pulled closer to my apartment, a calm determination settled over me, making me forget all of my problems at the moment.

As we began to come up, that 'calm determination' feeling suddenly went away as I felt like something was about to go wrong.

"Hey Frosty, how's your wife? I miss her so much, and I miss her cooking." I said to him

It was silent for a few seconds until he finally spoke, "She's good on some days if she doesn't have morning sickness, we're expecting."

I turn to him in shock. " Oh my God, James, congratulations!" I said as I hugged him.

"Thank you, Faizah," he murmured, returning my hug.

"Well, go back to your wife, I don't want to keep you away from her long. Oh! Also, tell her I say congratulations as well. I'm so happy for you guys." putting my key in the lock so I can open the door.

God, I'm so happy to be home.

I just wish I could've turned back around because, in a moment, I was eating my own words.

As I opened the door to my apartment, all I saw was my stuff being destroyed and damaged. Vases were shattered, books were torn into little pieces, and my furniture was ripped and destroyed beyond repair.

"Faizah, get behind me now!" James yelled as he pulled me behind him, taking out his gun and making sure that no one was there. As we walked back toward the door, I saw another letter beside another dead cat.

"Faizah, come on, we got to go!" James yelled at me as I grabbed the letter to read it. Then I opened it.

"Hello, my beloved, you looked so beautiful on the runway that no one would ever compete against your beauty. Not only are you beautiful on the outside, but you are also beautiful in the inside. I wish I could be inside of you, but not yet, time is patience. Also, I heard what Sophia said to you, that little bitch is always trying to cause you trouble, but when you put her back in her place, you just don't know what that done to me. God, I love you so much that the devil couldn't even punish me well because not being near you is hell enough. But don't worry, Beloved, we will be together soon."

I froze while clutching the letter in my hands, reading it was too disturbing to the point it physically made me sick. "J-James," I tried to speak, but the words weren't leaving my mouth until James pulled me closer to her.

"It's going to be okay, breathe in and breathe out for me," he told me while gently rubbing my back as I took deep breaths. When I finally got control over my breathing, I finally spoke, "Call Alex and tell him to get me on the first flight to Quantico, NOW!"

A/N: this is the longest chapter that I have EVER typed but forgive me for not adding the tigger warnings for the first chapter, I will make a separate post for that so people will be aware about it in the future so please forgive me. But I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter! Happy reading and MERRY CHRISTMAS!

*I DON’T GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO TRANSLATE/ REPOST MY WORK!*

#Spotify #spencer reid imagine #black oc #black reader #black!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #fem!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #writing by fendixlexii #A Thin Line Between Fame & A Genius

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fendixlexii · 7 months ago

Text

A Thin Line Between Fame & A Genius: Chapter One.

(I DONT OWN THIS GIF, FOUNDED ON PINTEREST)

T/W: THIS STORY ALSO INVOLVES: Mature Themes, Smut (eventually), Mental Health, Stalking, Obsession, Violence, Abuse, Sensitive Content, Sexual Harassment/ Assualt, death, and drugs.

I'D LIKE YOU TO BE WARNED, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

"Good Morning, world. My name is Scarlet Cree, and this is FNews reporting to you live today to let you guys know the behind-the-scenes of the model runway. Faizah Alston, better known as the Amorous Runway model. She is often known as the most graceful model that mankind ever has to offer! So just imagine my surprise when I discovered she has a stalker!"

The crowd gasps and starts to murmur.

"I know, I know! It has happened to our famous stars Taylor Swift, Drew Berrymore, Britney Spears, and all others, but for Faizah Alston, it has seemingly gotten worse. At one of her showcases, it was reported that when the show was over, the models went backstage to their dressing rooms, and a black box with a red Ribbon around it was in front of Faizah's door. When she opened the box, she found TWO dead cats inside the box with their hearts out along with a letter stating, 'Don't worry my beloved, we will be together soon but take this as a sign that I won't let anything in the path to get to you.' Let's keep our lovely Amorous Runway model in our prayers and send her our blessing-

What was once a beautiful pair of my Christian Louboutin So Kate Patent Leather Pumps on my feet, one of my pumps was now into television, causing a big hole right in the middle.

"WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK FAIZAH!" my agent, Alex Blake, says as he was startled by the sudden noise when I threw one of my Christian Louboutin leather pumps at the television, causing it to break.

"HOW-" I cut myself off by rubbing my hand on my chest and trying to calm myself down. I take a deep breath. "Alex, how did she get this information?" I ask more calmly

"I don't know, Im honestly on the move right now trying to find out, Hold on, im getting a call, but until then, please try not to wear any shoes to not throw at anything," he says, answering his phone and walking away.

Honestly, I don't know how the hell she knows, my team and I wanted this to be as quiet as possible, this can cause bad publicity, and not only that, I just don't want people in my business. I think I deserve privacy, but unfortunately, that's the price you pay when you are famous. But I have to keep a cool head, never get out of character, and most importantly, never show your heart that's in your chest. At least, that's what my auntie always told me.

Thank Lord, she's dead, but that's for another time.

I walked into the room that Alex was in as he finished his phone call so I could talk to him about my next show in a few hours.

"yes, yes! Okay, we'll see you there, thank you so much." Alex said as he got off the phone

"What makes you so happy all of a sudden?"

"We can go to your next show, but you are going to have to go to Quantico and stay there for a while until this 'stalker' is gone for good." He turns to me with a smile on his face.

"One, Why are you using air quotes, and two, No, My life is in New York, I can't just move away," I said sternly.

"My dear Amorous," he says while cupping my face.

"I have to keep you safe from this sicko stalker here; I can't risk anything happening to you, especially you. Your safety matters at this point, and not only that, what if you are doing a show and this 'stalker' goes up on the runway and does something to you? If they can go backstage to your dressing room to leave not one, but two damn dead cats? That should be telling you something, Faizah. You're going to Quantico, and that's final." he kisses my forehead.

"Okay, Sir, so let's say if I go to Quantico, am I going to get the protection there, and when I say protection, I mean full-blown police, army, homeland security type protection there," I said in a serious tone.

"It's funny that you said that. I just got off the phone with one of my friends in the FBI over there, and you are going to have all the security over there, so you will be safe.

I take a moment to take in on what Alex just told me.

"Okay, fine. Is the rest of my team on notice, and did you have them sign NDAs? cause as much as I love them; I can't risk anybody knowing where I am." I asked

"I already did, Amorous." I smiled

"Thank you, Alexander, now, when should I start to prepare for the show?" I asked with a more glorious tone

"You can start getting ready now because I know how long you take."

"Don't sweat the technique, Alex, and besides, like Beyonce said: "It should cost a billion to look this good," I said while walking to my walk-in closet. "Be safe leaving Alex!" I yell

"I will; I'll see you in four hours I'll also send a car to get you for the show!" Alex yells back while leaving and locking the door.

Now that I'm finally alone, I lay down on the fluffy carpet filled with anger and shame. I've never been the one to show my feelings in front of people; I never want anyone to know my emotions because they'll use them against me. So, to not let anyone use, lose, and abuse me, I never let them show. I'm so afraid as well because of this damn stalker. What if they do something much worse, what if they kill-

Wait, I'm spiraling; you need to get ready for the show.

As I began to get up and walk towards my vanity, I heard my phone ring.

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, And they're like, it's better than yours, damn right it's better than yours, I can teach you, but I have to charge~"

One of the members of the stylist's team calls me.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Alston, im downstairs so I can get you ready for the show."

"Yes, good afternoon, I'll send security to bring you up," I said, hanging up.

I'll never get used to getting ready twice. See, the reason why im getting ready now is to always look beautiful in front of the paparazzi, when one of the peasants says that you look a little off, they'll drag your name beyond the firey pits of hell. And I REFUSE to let that happen to me. It becomes a drag when I have to get ready again when I’m doing a show. That's the price to pay to become a model.

When I heard three knocks on the door, I walked towards to answer it.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Alston, are you ready?"

"yes, I am, you can set it up in my walk-in closet; thank you for coming."

I may sometimes be a bitch, but I’m a bitch with manners.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading my first ever chapter on tumblr/wattpad! If you guys have any notes or suggestions on how I can improve my writing, please feel free to let me know! Follow, like, and please reblog, Happy reading!

* I DON’T GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO TRANSLATE/ REPOST MY WORK!

#Spotify #spencer reid imagine #black oc #black reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by fendixlexii #A Thin Line Between Fame & A Genius

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