#and we still haven't gotten to talk 😩 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melis-writes · 2 years

Text

Eyes like Stars [Bobby Axel x Reader Multi-chapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 16 - Only if it's With You.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 15 [AO3] / [Tumblr] / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut, multi-chapter read.

"You’re my relief, you know that?" / "Maybe Lindsey’s only jealous because Bobby has a new girl, eh?"

The root of Bobby's pain, anger and numbness comes from his childhood as he reveals to you his past, growing up unloved at home with Hank, getting mixed up in the streets and becoming who Bobby is today. Bobby's out of your reach to fix, but he's all you have and want to know. Talk about leaving Needle Park and getting clean remains just that–"talk" and nothing more. Reverting to your old ways with Bobby without hesitation is like second nature to the both of you and the lust doesn't stop there. Bobby knows how to put on a show even in front of everyone else, and with his ex-girlfriend's jealous eyes looming over the both of you, the two of you fuck in front of your own friends and completely lose sense of everything else.

[SUGGESTIONS]: Bobby becomes possessive over Emily from Hank's behavior.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & depictions of: child neglect / verbal abuse + domestic disputes / prostitution / marijuana use and selling / impoverished upbringing / Heroin preparation & use / Depictions & themes of highs and withdrawals / Semi-public sex / Rough sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Chapter 16 is finally here!! 😩 I've been meaning to update this fic sooner (since we haven't had an update since early August 😭) but everything's gotten so busy both in life and with the release of my other new fics! Bobby baby is back and he's here. 🥺❤ This chapter heavily focuses on Bobby's childhood and how he grew up. It's not canon of course as the film only gives away very little about Bobby's homelife/childhood and the major AU notice is that Bobby somewhat mentions his mother is more overprotective/clingy in the film and well...you'll find it to be the opposite in this fic. 💔 Other than that, what's the harm in having your new pastime be fucking your girlfriend in your friend's kitchen because the both of you couldn't wait until you got home? 🥵🥵

Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.

Snuggled up within Bobby’s embrace you feel his firm arms keeping you safe and close to him—the warmth and comfort of your boyfriend’s body; the afterglow of making love giving way to an intimate silence that speaks more than any words could say.

Raising your head up from Bobby’s chest, you gaze up at your half-awake boyfriend; his messy, bird nest-like hair, his pouty full lips still glistening from the wet kiss you two shared moments ago and his hooded eyes lazily keeping eye contact with you—expecting your next words.

“I love you,” you murmur up to Bobby, lacing your free hand with him on the bed. “You know that?”

“I love you too,” Bobby doesn’t take a moment longer to answer, but his eyes begin to fill with a sadness he wishes to push away almost immediately. “But I know where you’re going with this, baby.”

“No,” you frown at him, “Bobby, please… You know there’s nothing wrong; not with you, not with us.”

“Stop,” Bobby mutters under his breath, “you know I’m a fuckup, Em. You can’t justify that.”

“You can call yourself that as much as you want,” you squeeze Bobby’s hand tightly, “it’s not going to make it true. There’s nothing about you I see as a flaw or don’t want, but—”

“But?” Bobby raises his brows at you. “But what then?”

“But I want to know where we went wrong so fast, so I can fix it.” You breathe, “I just want to fix it.”

Bobby stares into your eyes for a moment as if he’s choosing to believe you and pondering his next words at the same time but denial sinks into his expression. “There’s nothing you can do anymore.”

“Why?” You’re almost shocked to hear Bobby’s nonchalant answer.

“Everything’s been wrong for as long as I can remember.” Bobby takes his eyes off of you for just a moment to look at your hand held in his. “But that never had anything to do with you. You’re my relief, you know that? It’s not like this out on the streets.”

You blush at Bobby’s words, kissing over his knuckles. “You know the streets better than anyone else, but for all the wrong reasons.”

“You have no idea, baby.” Bobby lets out a deep exhale, nodding at you. “For the longest time, the streets were my home.”

Still seeing the lasting frown over your lips, Bobby caresses your cheek with the side of his hand gingerly, murmuring in a soft voice, “s’okay baby, it’s okay. Y’know all of this happened much too long ago to bother mentionin’. Don’t worry about it, angel.”

Twenty-seven years old now, Bobby was born on January 30th, 1944 in Manhattan. His mother worked as a waitress at a local burger joint—the last of her on and off retail and fast food jobs since she dropped out of high school and Bobby’s father had been a janitor his whole life.

Bobby’s parents were born and raised in Manhattan too but moved around several times when Bobby was just a toddler as his father found a variety of better-paying cleaning jobs in various parts of Manhattan until Bobby’s family finally settled for their last, small apartment when he was ten years old.

Due to moving around so much throughout his childhood, Bobby didn’t know any of the neighborhoods he lived in very well but nobody had the money or right to complain about it either.

Bobby’s family went wherever the money went and Bobby admired his father’s work ethic and insistence to put food on the table, even if it meant hours of mindless apartment searching through newspapers.

Moving around all over Manhattan also meant Bobby didn’t have any steady or long-term friends except for his brother Hank who was fourteen at the time right up until both boys settled in the last neighborhood they’d spend years to come in.

Bobby remembered even back then when he looked out the window to see a moving truck parking up in front of the apartment and when Hank came up to him, patted Bobby’s shoulder, and told him, “this is gonna be home for a long time, kid.” Bobby believed Hank.

Once Bobby and his family were fully moved in and settled, the first thing Bobby decided to do was get used to the neighborhood and begin to memorize the block.

Bobby explored around as much as he could in his free time—before and after school. He found shortcuts to and from home, long ways to get around different places, and it wasn’t long until Hank stopped walking Bobby to school every morning once Bobby learned the route, meaning he would be left alone.

It wasn’t hard for the kids who lived in Bobby’s neighborhood to gain interest in Bobby. Bobby was able to easily make friends due to his sense of humor and vibrant, charismatic personality—things Bobby carried onto his adulthood one way or another.

Bobby could make a kid cry his eyes out burst into laughter for minutes on end, and it was because of who Bobby was and the friendship he offered to the kids in his neighborhood that many looked up to him on the street.

Bobby already knew these kids he was hanging out with and becoming friends with didn’t have much of a home life like him; many had parents who were barely around, single parents, surrounded by chronic illness, drug addiction within the family, prostitutes, and pimp parents—the list of tragic lifestyles went on and on.

The environment Bobby and these kids grew up in was far from healthy and safe, but it was all they had.

Bobby still had a home to go to, an older brother, and friends he could always rely on. He didn’t want anything else as a kid.

Bobby’s relationship with his older brother Hank was as good as it could get between brothers. Hank was not only Bobby’s older brother but acted the part both responsibly.

Bobby and Hank’s parents could care less if Hank was making his younger brother’s life a living hell or creating power dynamics in the house, but Hank loved his little brother to death and it would only take a stray tear coming out of Bobby’s eye for Hank to beat dozens more out of whoever caused his brother pain.

At the same time though, Hank had his own interesting set of values and morals so if Bobby had provoked a fight or something first without good reason or cause, then Hank wouldn’t mind sitting there and watching his brother get beat to a pulp.

That was the kind of brotherly love Bobby and Hank had for one another, but there wasn’t exactly anything admirable about Hank, to begin with, so Bobby didn’t look up to his older brother at all.

Both of Bobby’s parents made minimum wage at their jobs. Bobby’s mother purposefully used her sex appeal to earn more tips from customers at work and then split the tips she earned in half to give as an allowance to Bobby and Hank; the two never saw any other kind of money.

Bobby’s family barely had any money to spare after paying rent, bills, and groceries, so any money that Bobby’s parents didn’t have left over was set aside for emergency funds.

This was just the way of life that Bobby and Hank came to understand at a young age; Bobby’s father warned his boys time and time again that if one bad thing came to topple them over and they didn’t have the funds for it, the family could be out on the street in no time.

Bobby generally lived an unstable life with his family, but it was the life everyone else in that neighborhood lived too.

The allowance Bobby received was no different from Hank’s which didn’t fail to piss Hank off at the very beginning, despite being four years older than Bobby.

Bobby and Hank had enough allowance every two weeks to go to the store, buy one ice cream cone, a small bag of candy, and a pack of gum—nothing more.

They could save their allowance to buy tastier and better candies, but as kids, they were far too excited to spend their allowance the moment they got it to save it for something else instead.

Bobby learned practically everything he knew through observing; he was always a visual learner.

The first thing he learned was whatever his parents did in front of him and in the house. Bobby observed how his parents both hated their jobs and working in general, but forced themselves to do it for the sake of feeding the family.

In a way, Bobby was practically taught to be very appreciative of all his parents were doing, but at the same time, it seemed to both Bobby and Hank that their parents resented them when it came to doing the bare minimum, like buying them new clothing or shoes because Bobby and Hank wore the same outfits and pairs until there were holes in them or they fell apart and couldn’t be sewn together to be worn again.

Bobby also learned there was no love between his parents; no kisses, no hugs, zero affection, and only small talk.

Bobby’s mother and father sat apart on couches and on the edge of their bed. Not once did Bobby even see them lovingly gaze at one another. Instead, his parents spoke to one another like coworkers instead of husband and wife, and their lack of affection for one another also meant the same to their children.

Bobby and Hank weren’t hugged or kissed as children, let alone tucked in or put to bed even when they fell asleep on the couch as toddlers.

If Bobby and Hank woke up late for school or not at all, there was a very high chance their parents wouldn’t care about that either.

The only kind of affection Bobby received was friendly hugs from the kids he played without on the streets and as a result, Bobby learned that friends gave you love and affection but your parents didn’t do that.

It was then and there at such a young age that Bobby didn’t and couldn’t know what healthy love was because he didn’t know anything about love at all.

This would result in a deep, depressing yearning inside of Bobby to haunt him throughout his adulthood to feel wanted, loved, and adored. If Bobby found such love in the future, without a doubt he would be emotionally attached to it especially due to the lack of any healthy, proper role model or figure in his life.

Bobby could remember what he called “the bad days” and why; it had nothing to do with him or Hank, but that Bobby’s mother wouldn’t make as many tips as she anticipated or a customer dined and dashed which sometimes meant her tips and pay would be docked.

“Bad days” for Bobby’s father meant that the client he was cleaning for wouldn’t like the work he’d done and make him stay overtime with his pay cut or no pay.

Any kind of these “bad days” resulted in Bobby’s parents arguing and fighting with no regard for who was around or heard.

If Bobby or Hank ever spoke up or tried to interrupt, their parents would only yell at them in return.

The worst of the arguments and fights would cause screaming and shouting at one another to echo through the walls of Bobby and Hank’s bedroom.

As a heavy sleeper, Hank would always get through nights like that but Bobby would be too scared to even close his eyes; Bobby feared his parents might hit and hurt each other.

Bobby’s parents never did get physical with each other but were adamant about verbally abusing one another, hence why Bobby learned many colorful curse words when he was just a child as well as how he could use those words to hurt others or to be hurt by them.

Whenever Bobby’s parents fought, Bobby’s initial instinct was to avoid being in the room the argument or fight was going on at all costs.

Bobby would distract himself with just about anything—even go outside so he wouldn’t hear the bickering if he had to, but otherwise, whatever Bobby did, he’d still hear all of the fighting and arguing.

Something new was said or argued about almost every single time so Bobby couldn’t drown it out as Hank could, offering advice like; “relax and ignore them” and “they’ll never change, you don’t have to listen to their shit”.

Throughout Bobby’s childhood, he was never bullied. The kids he grew up with were too scrawny, too depressed, experiencing the burden of all the consequences their parents’ poor actions led to, to get on some ego streak and make some other kid’s life more miserable than it already was.

Bobby may have purposefully leered and intimidated kids visiting from other neighborhoods to fuck off so they’d avoid coming to their park and hangout spots because Bobby felt he owned his neighborhood with all of his friends by his side.

As Bobby grew into his teenage years, the way he and the kids in the neighborhood coped was no longer the same; hanging out at the park, joking about their frustrations, and avoiding home.

There was a new way to cope and a local perverted dealer who moved in on the block sold stolen cigarettes at ridiculously cheap prices to kids just so he could get a good look at them.

The kids who bought the cheap cigarettes used some and sold them to others for a little more to make some profit and at the age of fifteen, Bobby was regularly smoking any cigarettes he could get his hands on.

Everyone who “fit in” in Bobby’s neighborhood smoked and anyone else who didn’t have anything to do with those types anymore.

Bobby was quick to take over the second-hand cigarette selling business like he was running an operation.

At the same time, nothing changed in Bobby and Hank’s life at home and their parents didn’t know any of this was ongoing either, but then again they didn’t know anything about their sons.

The meager allowance Bobby and Hank were given wasn’t nearly ever enough to make up for the lack of affection and healthy parenting they never received growing up; cheap ice cream from the convenience store wouldn’t help Bobby ignore his parents' fighting, and it was only the buzz from Bobby’s nicotine addiction that fought the sleepless nights he had for so many years.

In truth, Bobby was no longer worried about what would happen to him and Hank or his parents. If Bobby’s parents were going to tear themselves apart, then by all means it would be fine on Bobby’s behalf—he’d say they had it coming for years.

Bobby and Hank always expected their parents to divorce but they also came to the quick realization that if they just didn’t get involved in their parents’ fighting that other than hearing the heinous things they were saying to one another, it wouldn’t really affect Bobby or Hank in any other way.

If it was one thing Bobby learned about his parents arguing and fighting was: “how the fuck can someone argue about the same shit for years on end?” Not him, that was for sure.

Something Bobby didn’t realize that was an impact of his poor home life was the fact he continued to lose more and more of his appetite as the years went on, growing skinnier and he already had a lanky disposition, to begin with; he was beginning to resemble the other kids on the block more and more—helpless to the change.

As the years went on and Bobby and Hank matured into teenagers, the fighting with their parents escalated to almost physical heights but was mended by a decision by Bobby’s parents that they needed to be apart one way or another to avoid physically abusing one another.

During that time of turmoil, Hank got a part-time job at a local mechanic shop and came home after eight PM once he graduated high school.

The reality was that Hank’s work ended much earlier but he preferred to spend the rest of his day out on the street with his friends, smoking weed and half-assing whatever other responsibilities he had to do at home when he got there, then slept his high off.

Bobby came home after school straight away because unlike Hank, he didn’t have any friends or worthwhile things to do there.

Bobby and Hank attended different schools growing up and Bobby was just surrounded by rich, preppy kids he couldn’t relate to so he never bothered to reach out and make friends with those who would never understand him.

There was nothing else for Bobby to do in high school besides attending class and disappointing his teachers, and his parents didn’t care whether Bobby did his homework or got decent grades at all.

Bobby’s only influence—and not at all positive or healthy—was his older brother Hank, and it wasn’t long until Bobby got into the habit of smoking weed because of Hank.

What Bobby didn’t realize at the time was that his own brother was his very first bad influence; Bobby’s parents were too absent and emotionally unavailable to be an influence of any kind to him in the first place.

After six months of continuously smoking cigarettes and marijuana, Bobby was already seeing kids lining up on the block to get a joint or buy a cheap pack—even financing it with their allowance just to get a taste and when some kids wouldn’t pay up their share, Bobby and Hank would either scare the rest of the money out of them or beat it out of them. The latter was Hank’s idea, of course.

It was only because fists were flying that Bobby and Hank’s parents finally began to catch wind of what was really going on.

As a result of discovering their sons had not only been addicted to nicotine and marijuana but that they were also selling it around the neighborhood, Bobby’s parents not only stopped giving him and Hank an allowance, but also kicked Hank out of the house entirely.

Bobby remembered that point in his life may have just been the first time his parents directly intervened in the destructive lifestyle he and Hank called home, but their reaction was too late and also overkill kicking Hank out of the house; at the end of the day, it was too late for Bobby and Hank’s parents to ever come close to salvaging what they did to their kids with years of neglect and letting them witness abuse.

After Hank was kicked out of the house, the fighting between Bobby’s parents doubled and Bobby had always assumed Hank’s absence may have been a reason why—after all, a few fights had stemmed directly because of it before.

Bobby caught on quickly that it was mostly his mother’s idea to kick Hank out, but she also regretted her decision deeply and Bobby saw her crying and smoking on the balcony over it.

Hank being kicked out and never even bothering to write, call or visit had left a special kind of pain in Bobby’s family, but even that didn’t last long. Bobby’s parents would always find something new to argue about for the rest of their lives.

To Bobby, it no longer mattered when, how, and why his parents fought. It made no difference to him to see his parents fighting. The only difference was Bobby’s age, and when he was a little kid, Bobby had more love and hope inside of him that the fighting would stop.

As a child, Bobby made crayon drawings of his family smiling, holding hands, and being happy then hung them up on his bedroom wall. He would stare at the drawings when his parents fought until he fell asleep, sometimes crying while doing so.

For the majority of Bobby’s childhood, he either abused cigarettes or slept to get ignore the world around him. After all, nicotine would give him a nice buzz and relax Bobby’s nerves, and a nap even with obscure, random dreams was better than reality any day.

Even throughout Bobby’s teenage years, napping became somewhat of a coping method right up until Bobby slept through his own dad leaving too—two years after Hank was kicked out.

When Bobby woke, he realized his father had left for good—not just to cool off after a fight like he usually did. Bobby’s father never said goodbye to Bobby either, leaving Bobby alone with his mother at home.

It was true Bobby’s parents began to hate each other more once Hank was gone but Bobby’s father leaving the family without a look back over his shoulder or even divorce papers served meant Bobby’s mother would never emotionally recover from everything.

Instead of getting therapy, spending time with her friends, or doing anything to move on, Bobby’s mother decided to take all of her feelings and frustrations out on Bobby in any way she could whenever she felt like it.

Bobby knew he wasn’t to blame for everything his mother threw at him and it wasn’t like Bobby had more of a tolerance for his mother’s abusive patterns of behavior than Hank or his father did.

After Bobby’s father left, nobody could tell Bobby what to say or do anymore. Whenever Bobby came home from school, all he did was sleep before he spent his entire day elsewhere and outside.

Sometimes to even avoid seeing his mother and listening to her rants, Bobby would piss outside if he could; he was maturing as a young man and didn’t need anything from home, especially since he was getting a generous amount of attention from girls in the neighborhood.

Bobby had already made quite a name for himself when he was nine years old, stealing condoms from a convenience store for Hank which set up a real reputation for him out on the street.

Instead of Bobby’s parents finding out their nine-year-old son stole something, the owner of the convenience store decided the better and more fitting punishment was to beat Bobby with a belt in his very own store.

Once Bobby graduated high school (and just barely passed with his poor grades), Bobby’s mother would have liked to say she out of anger kicked Bobby out of the house too for being useless and barely present, but Bobby actually left home himself—just like his father.

Bobby weighed the pros and cons of being at home with his mother and there wasn’t a single advantage to be gained. Bobby had other places he could stay and sleep; other people and friends were always willing to let him stay with them because Bobby was a guy who could be trusted and he was well-liked.

More girls than Bobby could count wanted to be in his presence too so Bobb always had a warm, clean bed to sleep in; why should Bobby stay home and continue to get verbally abused by his mother after all? The streets provided more love and opportunity for Bobby than anything else had to him his whole life.

The streets of New York paid for everything and they also raised Bobby; taught him how to hustle and be selfish to keep his own ass alive.

Bobby was already very much aware at a young age that he hated his mother and father because they never showed him love and after Hank and Bobby’s father left, Bobby’s mother expected Bobby to fill both Hank and his father’s shoes and provide for her when she had never done an inkling of such for him.

Bobby didn’t know his mother had a mental breakdown when he left, and Bobby didn’t care either. Even if someone showed him a photograph of his mother weeping and letting her emotions eat her alive, Bobby wouldn’t give a shit.

Bobby hated his mother but his anger was only hot like coals for the first year after he left home. Bobby forgot about his family life a year after and was relieved when the anger he kept bottled up inside of him as a kid faded over time too.

It wasn’t long until the streets of Upper West Side Manhattan reunited Bobby and Hank together, so the two brothers linked up stayed in the same temporary homes and places, fucked the same girls, smoked the same weed, and so forth.

In truth, Bobby’s family was broken from the very beginning and only continued to splinter out, but the brotherly bond between Bobby and Hank was never damaged.

Bobby’s descent into actual crime was another story altogether. Although Bobby did steal condoms at the age of nine, he also stole and sold cigarettes illegally.

Once Bobby got his hands on marijuana, he secretly grew it in other people’s gardens without them even knowing or the basements of places he got to stay in. Bobby knew practically everything he did to make a buck was illegal, but he didn’t give a shit.

In his young adulthood, Bobby wanted and needed a thicker wad of cash in his wallet. As a result, Bobby began selling weed and pills he found and stole for a high value but the street accepted it; Bobby was known for selling the “real dynamite stuff” or “the real goods” so every extra penny was worth it for an intense, longer high with less of the nasty withdrawals felt afterward.

Bobby himself continued to use marijuana and chip on pills now and then, but he made sure to stay clear of developing a full-blown addiction. After all, the people around him taking and buying the stuff from him were throwing it up and getting sick from their addictions.

Bobby was such a sweet talker when it came to his deals and making money that he could convince a billionaire to give him their entire net worth. Bobby never had trouble negotiating and making deals; he had the best shit in town you couldn’t find anywhere else.

Those were the days that the streets and everyone in it who knew Bobby was his family now. Everyone got paid, and everyone was happy, but heroin wasn’t involved back then.

Where Bobby lived with Hank, there weren’t any “real” junkies or narcos like Hotch to ruin the fun and force someone to rat somebody else out.

Bobby thought it would always be this way forever—always this easy, and that the life he lived in his early twenties was the best days of his life, but Bobby was simply far from it.

[ Present Day, Next Morning ]

Throughout the crowd in Upper West Side Manhattan, Bobby and you make your way down the block and to the grocery store just down the street—hand in hand as a couple, finally starting off your day.

Bobby wears his favorite black, bomber jacket with a long-sleeved navy shirt underneath, black flared jeans, scuffed sneakers, and his yellow patterned bandana tied over his messy, ruffled hair.

You’re dressed in a pair of navy jeans, a light button-up blouse with a wool cardigan over top—all snug and cozy as you walk up to the front entrance of the grocery store with your boyfriend with the intention of picking up some fresh fruits and vegetables.

Just as you and Bobby approach a supermarket, confusion hits Bobby to see you leading him directly to it instead of down to the cheaper convenience stores just nearby like he believes you were both going to go to in the first place.

“Uh—” Bobby abruptly stops in his tracks, continuing to hold your hand and pointing up at the supermarket’s entrance with the other. “You wanna go in here?”

You blink at Bobby in momentary confusion, wondering if he’s forgotten why you two even stepped outside after breakfast in the first place. “Of course, baby. We’re going to pick up a few groceries, remember?”

“Yeah, I know that, but—” Bobby cuts himself off, pointing down to Bert’s grimy convenience store just around the corner. “Thought we were goin’ in there.”

“Eugh, please.” You fake gag, “no way—not unless Bert’s decided to run a fresh farmer’s market in there. Come on, the supermarket has what we need.”

“Are you sure?” Bobby stares at you for confirmation, having never been inside of a full-fledged grocery store in his entire life.

“Why would I be?” Your confusion doubles.

“Uhhhh…” Bobby’s eyes curiously roam all over the front of the supermarket, barely being able to see inside but already overwhelmed by hundreds of fresh and what he considers very expensive products seemingly staring back at him through the windows. “It’s just expensive, baby.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you giggle, amused by Bobby’s comment. “Not a fan of these big grocery store chains?”

Bobby shrugs sheepishly as you lead forward again; he follows you inside timidly. “I uhhh—I just never been in one of these places before, you know?”

‘He’s never been to a grocery store before?’ You grasp your hand over an empty grocery cart before turning to stare at Bobby in utter shock once again.

“Actually?” You ask quietly, feeling a familiar sadness swelling in your heart again for Bobby.

Bobby nods, gesturing around the grocery store aimlessly. “Well, yeah, baby,” he chuckles, “parents never took me or Hank and I’ve never had the money to afford anythin’ in here, ya know?”

“Proves why you weren’t eating so good,” you pout, rubbing Bobby’s arm up and down gingerly while keeping your free hand on the handle of a shopping cart. “Eating all that processed junk out of cans and street sandwiches.”

“Because it’s cheap,” Bobby points out with a grin growing over his lips. “Very, very cheap.”

“Just like skipping breakfast and dinner?” You shake your head at Bobby, pushing the shopping cart in front of you. “No more of that, you can guarantee it.”

“S’okay now because my girl feeds me.” Bobby picks up his pace, skipping alongside the grocery cart. “Right?”

“Right,” you can’t help but crack a smile back at your boyfriend only to see how Bobby’s eyes light up at the shopping cart you steer.

“Can I push it?” Bobby asks. “This is the first time I’ve seen one of these things intact—ya know, not thrown into a lake or smashed into two in some alleyway.”

“Be my guest,” you let out a soft laugh, pulling your hands off of the cart.

“Where to, ma’am?” Bobby places both hands over the cart’s handle, ready to steer and push it around.

“Hmm, how about we start off by getting some fresh vegetables first?” You suggest, looking up to see the aisle numbers.

“Terrific.” More than ecstatic to join you on his very first shopping trip, Bobby happily drives the shopping cart behind you as you lead him to the fresh produce aisle to stock up for the week.

Just before you stop to pick up some fresh bell peppers, you glance back over your shoulder to see Bobby beaming back at you—just happy to be there, supporting you and pushing the cart even though Bobby doesn’t recognize half of the vegetables or names of the fruits there.

About forty-five minutes worth of grocery shopping together later, you and Bobby return home directly afterward to stock up the fridge and unpack the groceries—making conversation with one another over all of the things you thought you’d never get a chance to speak about with someone; what you’d be cooking tonight for dinner for one another, how you’d spend the rest of the day together with Bobby and just how relaxing it all sounds to snuggle up with him on the couch watching some soap opera and sharing a cigarette.

“I’mma pick up another pack later tonight,” Bobby opens up a new pack of cigarettes, taking one out. “One for you and for me—see how fast we get through these things with nothin’—”

Listening to Bobby speak to you, both of your attention diverts to the telephone mounted on the wall of the corridor—beginning to ring.

“Oh, could you get the phone for me real quick, baby?” You hold two packs of vegetables in your arms, trying to organize all your fresh produce on one side of the fridge.

“Sure, sure.” Bobby sets down his cigarette pack, walking out into the hallway, and takes the telephone off the wall before answering it and holding it up to his ear. “Yeah? Who is it?”

“Bobby, hey,” Marcie’s raspy voice comes out from the other end. “Is Em around?”

“Yes, I am,” you can hear what’s been spoken over the telephone from where you stand. “What’s up, Marcie?”

Bobby leans over, handing you the telephone and playfully rolling his eyes before he picks up his cigarette pack again—listening to your conversation with Marcie.

“What’s up?” Marcie repeats in disbelief, “more like what’s up with the both of you, huh? All MIA for the past few days. Sammy was tellin’ me he thought you guys went on a vacation or something.”

“More like we both need a vacation,” you sigh dramatically, shutting the refrigerator door. “Don’t worry about us, though. Bobby and I are doing good—just spending lots of time together at home, you know? Cozying up, enjoying whatever time off life we can get.”

“Is Bobby good himself, though?” Marcie asks, a little skeptical. “’Cause… Well, sorry I couldn’t be of more help when…ya know.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bobby raises his voice for Marcie to hear, masking his sarcasm as best as he can—knowing Marcie doesn’t actually give a flying fuck about him. “You can’t even help yourself, man. I’ll always be good.”

You bite the corner of your lip, avoiding Bobby’s eyes as you hold out the telephone so both of you can hear Marcie.

“Whatever,” Marcie says back. “I just called you guys to see if you were both alive or somethin’. Why not come over and actually let us see your faces for once? Hotch fucked us over real good while the two of you were snuggling up so I got nothin’ and no company. You know how it is.”

“What happened?” Bobby furrows his brows. “Hotch got Sammy too?”

“Nah, Sammy’s out with Sonny doing God knows what. It’s Chico that Hotch arrested, right when he was about to head on over here with the goods.” Marcie answers.

Bobby stares at the telephone in your hand, suddenly feeling himself shift back into focusing on the craving he’s surprisingly been able to push aside all day.

“Wow,” you mutter out, “Hotch must have been following Chico the entire time then. Chico’s more careful than any dealer I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh honey, you haven’t seen anything just yet.” Marcie sighs deeply. “Not only that but you guys know Chico wouldn’t go down without a fight, and by that I mean he’s gonna negotiate with a narco if it means a much shorter sentence. He ratted on Helen for a three-month sentence.”

“What?” Bobby’s eyes grow wide with interest as a smirk begins to grow over his lips. “Are you serious? Helen was like Hotch’s favorite plaything all this time. No fuckin’ way.”

“I know,” Marcie holds back her own laughter, “I didn’t believe it either but yep—no more of that. I heard Helen got caught selling kids pills again.”

“Not surprised.” You lean against the kitchen counter. “I didn’t have any hope Helen would change back then and now look at her. Then again, all you guys did was pester me about why I didn’t speak to her anymore.”

“Ah, let her do whatever the fuck she wants.” Marcie says, “a nice stay in jail may help her. We all remember our first time, it was very cozy. At the very least she’s gonna learn her lesson, get off of Hotch’s dick and maybe get clean too.”

“Well deserved, huh?” Bobby appears pleasantly surprised. “Ratted out on me for her own bullshit and now look at her. That’s what you get for snitching to a fuckin’ narco in the first place. Terrific, just terrific.”

You stare at Bobby in disbelief, taken back by his reaction at first.

“Wow, happy I see, huh?” Marcie laughs on the end of the phone, “finally got equal with her.”

“I don’t give a shit about Helen or Hotch or any of those fuckers.” Bobby rolls his eyes, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some love for Hotch today because of what he did. He uses all of us more than we use anything, lemme tell you that.”

“Yeah, that’s a first.” Marcie agrees, “but does that mean you lovebirds are gonna come celebrate that over here or what? Come share the party with Hank and Lindsey.”

“Oh great,” you mutter under your breath, “the whole gang’s there, huh?”

“Who cares, baby?” Bobby smirks wryly at you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Just two rats Marcie can’t get out of her apartment—why do we care? Besides, none of those two come empty-handed, if ya know what I mean. Hey Marcie—let ‘em know or something. I need to chip to keep me straight today at least. I know I’m fuckin’ coming down.”

Your expression instantly fills with sadness and disappointment at Bobby’s words and refusal to halt back his own addiction time and time again, but Bobby doesn’t notice.

“Sure thing,” Marcie replies, “Lindsey’s got some real dynamite shit over here for all of us. Just bring some cash and get here quick, will ya? My anxiety’s through the roof.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby puts the telephone up to his ear, “we’ll be there. See ya.”

“Someone’s happy about what happened,” you finally speak up once you and Bobby are more than halfway over to Marcie’s place—having it impossible to ignore the smug look on Bobby’s face since Marcie revealed the news of Helen’s arrest over the phone.

“Somethin’ like that,” Bobby replies casually, holding your hand as you both continue to walk down the street. “It’s terrific, baby. Helen got busted, at last, I mean c’mon. I never thought I’d see the day, not while she was suckin’ on Hotch’s dick. Nobody has it in with Hotch anymore, eh? What a lucky streak. Everyone gets one of those at least once in their lifetime livin’ here.”

“You had yours?” You ask jokingly, feeling rather indifferent about Helen’s situation.

“Oh yeah,” Bobby shrugs his shoulders carelessly, “but I can’t call it that right now—not anymore. It’s somethin’ else.”

“Which is?” Your curiosity grows as you both stop by the edge of the sidewalk to wait for the pedestrian sign to flash.

“Gratitude,” Bobby answers, his eyes filled with warmth as he looks at you. “That’s no lucky streak, it’s somethin’ else. I have a girl like you who loves me and cares for me, I ain’t callin’ that luck. It has meaning for me.”

Pleasantly surprised by his answer, your cheeks flush red with blush as the two of you cross the street. “You know I love you very much.”

“And I love you more, baby.” Bobby gives your cheek a sloppy kiss before he pushes open the lobby door to Marcie’s apartment building.

As soon as the two of you step inside, the first thing you both come to notice is three prostitutes waiting amongst one another by three customers just by the elevators.

“Nothing new, nothing changed, eh?” Bobby comments quietly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You chuckle, knowing what kind of ‘transaction’ is going on over by the elevator.

“Sure,” Bobby says back as you two stand at a distance behind the prostitutes and their clients. “And very much illegal.”

“What feels good and makes a lot of money that is legal?” You grin back at Bobby. “I tried to figure that out in college and it didn’t end well for me.”

“Aw, baby,” Bobby jokingly pouts at you before laughing softly. “Trust me, I’ve heard that story by just about everyone I’ve ever met here in Needle Park.”

You and Bobby watch as the prostitutes go into the elevator one by one alongside their clients, leaving no further room for you or him to go in.

You both step closer to the elevator as the doors slide shut and the elevator begins to move upwards, waiting for the next one to arrive.

“Prostitution is illegal, yeah,” Bobby begins to speak in a normal tone, “but nobody advertises it here. You can tell when someone’s lookin’ for a client but you can’t arrest them for swaying their hips and wearing sexy clothing around someone with greedy eyes.” Bobby notices the curiosity growing in your expression, continuing, “so it’s like they have a kind of immunity as we all do here. If they get caught in the act, well, the cops can prove it depending on the place and whatever, but it all depends. Gettin’ any prostitute here in trouble for doing their job is real hard—all the guys and girls doin’ it is real smart. Guess Helen thought that immunity followed through with Hotch. Maybe he refused to fuck her.”

The elevator comes back down to the main floor with a ringing sound as you and Bobby both step in.

“That’s why Hotch is the so-called ‘good cop’, huh?” You hit the button for Marcie’s apartment floor, watching the elevator door slide shut.

“I’m thinkin’ a real good cop would arrest and make sure the criminal he caught or whatever is prosecuted to the letter of the law or somethin’.” Bobby snorts, “Hotch is a corrupt piece of fucking shit—a narco with a capital ‘N’. He throws us, junkies, in jail, and don’t care about the root of the problem. Ya know why half the people in Needle Park do what they do? Hook up, sell, steal? They got a habit to chase after, baby. That ain’t no fun,” Bobby points out, gesturing with his hands, “he’s an asshole who pretends to be a good cop.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You bite down on your lip as the elevator comes to a halt on Marcie’s floor. “I don’t want any more run-ins with that guy. Fuck…”

“Baby, believe me when I say I’ll do anything, and I mean anything to make sure you don’t see that fucker again.” Bobby takes your hand once more, leading you out of the elevator once the door slides back open. “Ah fuck—you smell that?”

“Ugh,” you groan quietly, pinching the tip of your nose with your free hand as you follow Bobby out. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, Marcie!” Bobby hollers, picking up his pace to get to the apartment door as soon as possible. “Open up, will ya?” Bobby pounds on Marcie’s suite door, “it smells like shit out here!”

“Yeah, yeah!” You both hear Marcie hollering back as she begins to unlock the apartment door, pulling it open. “Wouldn’t want you to get used to it, Mr. I-Live-in-Luxury Now. Come in.”

“Hi to you too, Marcie.” You shake your head at Marcie’s comment, stepping inside her apartment with Bobby.

“Well hi,” Marcie says back to you, but her tone of voice remains heavily distracted as she looks back at Hank and Lindsey sitting next to each other on the edge of Marcie’s bed.

“Well, well,” Lindsey raises her head up to spot you and Bobby. “It’s a rare sight having both Axel brothers here.”

“Hank wouldn’t miss the possibility of a deal for the world,” Bobby replies sarcastically.

While ignoring you, Lindsey comments, “keep it humble, Bobby. I heard you overdosed.”

You awkwardly move alongside Bobby, taking a seat on Marcie’s worn-out, sunken couch with your boyfriend while keeping quiet.

“And you’re on your what—tenth dick of the day and this time it’s my brother?” Bobby’s quick to snap back, plopping down on the couch next to you.

“Aw man,” Hank chuckles—riding out the last of his soft high. “Nah, we ain’t doing anything like that. Lindsey’s carrying ‘dynamite’ this week, ya know.”

“Bobby’s head’s in the gutter now, especially because he’s got a girlfriend.” Lindsey grins, nudging Hank with her elbow. “He’s not even bothering to ask why either of us are here in the first place.”

“Yeah well, his girlfriend’s lucky.” Marcie makes sure to lock her apartment door tight, double-checking all the locks. “Emily doesn’t get her place raided as mine does on a goddamn weekly basis. You know that happened to me again, right?”

“Get over it,” Bobby mutters, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

“Ooh,” Hank and Lindsey chuckle quietly.

“Respectfully, Marcie,” you begin to speak up, “I think being ‘raided’ here is a part of your lease terms at this point.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Marcie mutters, walking back towards her dresser. “They got all the time of day to do it but Hotch sends his guys when I’m getting dressed or finishin’ up with a trick. I’m thinking now I gotta seduce the cops just so I can avoid gettin’ my ass in trouble.”

“You should try it then,” Hank pulls out a cigarette from his pack, “I hear they pay well, ya know.”

“They do.” Lindsey reaffirms as if she has personal experience sleeping with cops.

‘Is she a prostitute too?’ The thought briefly crosses your mind but is ultimately clouded by the jealousy you still can’t shake off; Lindsey was Bobby’s girlfriend at one point, and it’s not as if she’s very friendly or welcoming to you in any way either, but also impossible to ignore.

“So,” Bobby snaps his finger, leaning his hand behind the couch as Hank passes him a cigarette. “Marcie calls us all over for a family reunion or somethin’? ‘Cause we’d be one dysfunctional family.”

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Marcie rolls her eyes, grabbing a half-empty can of beer off of her dresser before holding it up in the air to show you and Bobby. “See these? Chico stole ‘em before he got busted.”

“Nice,” Bobby smirks, looking at the beer can. “But that’s small-time work now.”

“True,” Lindsey agrees. “You work for Santo now though, huh? Anything else would be ‘small time’ work for you. I heard Santo hasn’t seen you in a while though.”

“He thinks I’m dead or in jail.” Bobby doesn’t even bother to look back at Lindsey, pulling his lighter out of the front pocket of his jeans before lighting up his cigarette. “I’ll get back to him because I’m neither.”

“Might wanna hurry, huh?” Hank smiles lazily. “Or Santo might just find another dealer.”

“He always does,” Bobby shrugs his shoulders, holding your hand again so as not to make you feel excluded in what feels like a one-sided conversation going on. “But he takes me back right away because I’m the best dealer Santo’s got.”

Continuing to remain silent, you glance over your shoulder to find Lindsey staring at you.

She smirks at you before opening up her weathered-out messenger satchel, showing the various little baggies of heroin tucked in there. “Best dealer or not, today I got the best shit in town. I’m carrying.” As soon as Lindsey notices Bobby beginning to look over, she specifically tells him, “you pay first. I don’t run a goddamn charity here.”

“You still accept dick as payment?” Bobby asks; you’ve never seen him act that snarky or vile towards anyone before.

Hank lets out a laugh, rubbing Lindsey’s shoulders. “Might as well, right?”

“That’s for select customers,” Lindsey rolls her eyes at Bobby. “Just hand me some cash. Does that pretty girlfriend of yours over there want something too?”

“You can just talk to me directly, you know.” You tell Lindsey, “like a normal person.”

Hank and Marcie exchange glances, hiding the amused look on both of their faces.

“We ain’t exactly normal here, sorry, Missy,” Lindsey says back to you in a mocking tone. “I just couldn’t help but notice you can’t relate to the bare minimum—you know, getting your damn apartment raided every few days. You probably couldn’t tell a cockroach and a rat apart from one another because you haven’t ever had to see ‘em or deal with them like us. They’re practically our roommates,” Lindsey points at your clothes, “and what you’re wearing looks nice, clean, and expensive, so no—you really don’t fit in here, do you?”

“Shut up, Lindsey,” Bobby scowls, pulling out his wallet. “Stop talking to Emily before you really make it apparent you’re jealous of her.”

“I’m not,” Lindsey scoffs. “I can buy myself pretty clothes just like that and look like her.”

“You’ve really got the wrong message here, don’t you?” Irritation and anger begin to build in you from Lindsey’s nasty, sarcastic remarks. “You don’t even know me. Have I offended you or something?”

“Nah,” Marcie answers for Lindsey, “she’s always like that—aren’t you, Lindsey?”

“If anything,” Hank speaks up, massaging Lindsey’s back, “maybe Lindsey’s only jealous because Bobby has a new girl, eh?”

“Ugh, no.” Lindsey rolls her eyes, pushing Hank’s hands off of her. “I’ve had all of Bobby ten times over for two lifetimes. There isn’t a thing he hasn’t done to me and vice versa—” Lindsey locks eyes with you, “he’s used goods, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at Lindsey, beginning to feel increasingly angered but realize she’s already looked away from you the moment she finished her sentence.

“Shut the fuck up, my God.” Bobby huffs loudly, tossing a ten-dollar bill at Lindsey before leaning over the couch and snatching a bag of heroin out of her satchel. “Talking about used goods when you said just a moment ago you might take dick for payment, huh? God, for once in your life can you stop being such a fucking annoying bitch?”

“Come on, Bobby.” Hank pushes Bobby back onto the couch. “Play nice man, we’re all here to hang out, not fight.”

“Then tell your little friend to stop talking.” You direct your words to Lindsey, and that’s when she returns the pissed look on her face.

“Bobby won’t share her pretty little thing, we get it,” Hank chuckles, gesturing to you. “I wouldn’t wanna get on his or her bad side, man.”

“You both have a point so I’m not taking sides.” Marcie chugs down the remainder of her beer. “But Lindsey—mm—didn’t you say you’d fuck Hotch if it meant he wouldn’t arrest you?”

“Maybe,” Lindsey snorts. “Who knows if he even fucks at all? That annoying, monotone voice of his is enough to get me dry.”

“Then I guess it wouldn’t bother any of you if I balled my girl right here and now,” Bobby suddenly suggests, causing your face to flush red from embarrassment.

This time you can clearly tell it’s not annoyance or irritation over Lindsey’s face, but pure jealousy as she watches Bobby place your hand over his lap.

“Go do it in the hallway or the kitchen or some shit if you have to.” Marcie waves off with her hand.

“Ahhhh, Bobby’s making us all jealous today.” Hank groans, laying back on Marcie’s bed with a loud sigh. “Do what you gotta do, man.”

Just as Lindsey insistently attempts to change the conversation at hand with Hank and Marcie, Bobby leans over you—the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek before he plants a sloppy kiss over it, surprising you.

“Bobby,” blushing furiously at his sexual suggestion in front of everyone, you’re unable to hide the spark of excitement you felt listening to Bobby’s idea in the first place—fucking in public.

Not that you don’t love the idea of kinky, wild sex getting better and better with Bobby anytime and anywhere, but you never thought you’d have a thing for public fucking.

Still, there’s a hint of shyness lingering inside of you that you want to confirm with Bobby first before anything else.

“Yeah, baby? What is it?” Bobby breathes over your neck, wrapping one arm around your waist and bringing you close to snuggle his side.

You let your cheek rest against Bobby’s as he smokes his cigarette, beginning to rub up and down your body. “Shy, baby? You don’t have to be.”

“Maybe I’m not,” you watch as Bobby holds his cigarette between his plush, full lips; the very lips and mouth you’ve constantly found yourself daydreaming about lapping up your pussy juices, focusing that tongue over your clit with how heavenly Bobby’s lips would feel eating you out while his stubble scraps up against your clit.

‘Fuck.’ An instant surge of arousal hits you from just a little harmless daydream alone.

“I’m comin’ down, baby,” Bobby murmurs to you, interrupting your thoughts as he rests his head over your shoulder. “I want you to distract me.”

“You or me?” You smile sheepishly, “neither of us is feeling our greatest, huh?”

“You should,” Bobby takes a small drag from his cigarette before handing it to you. “You deserve to feel good always. Nicotine helps, baby. Not my first-time tryna distract myself coming down with nicotine…or caffeine.”

You take Bobby’s cigarette carefully, inhaling a deep drag before blowing out smoke beneath you and away from Bobby. “Mm…”

“Yeah, baby.” Bobby squeezes the sides of your hips, easily finding the fabric of your underwear through your skirt before pulling it teasingly. “You know they don’t give a shit what we do in here. Better we give ‘em a show to watch, huh?”

Every inch of your body feels hot with desire, begging “yes, yes, yes” all over as Bobby begins to slowly kiss you up your neck—his warm lips soft and purposefully teasing to get you in the mood.

With half-open eyes dazed with lust, you watch the cigarette between Bobby’s fingers continue to burn as you let out a whimper—enjoying every touch and kiss over your skin.

What you don’t realize is that Lindsey’s curious and jealous eyes are on the both of you, watching and simply unable to look away despite the conversation going on around her that should concern her instead.

Whether Lindsey wants to admit it or not, she desperately wants to be you right this moment. What Lindsey finds herself increasingly turned on towards now is that this is a new Bobby she’s seeing before her eyes; one much less focused on drugs and the high it provides Bobby but loving and affectionate.

Even Lindsey can tell now it’s not the drugs in Bobby’s system that encourage him to tease and please you or love this way—it’s genuine, and it never was like that with her.

With Bobby’s attention completely on you, Bobby puts his cigarette out on the ashtray before him—pushing a curtain of your hair behind your ear.

You barely notice Bobby doing anything else until he kisses your lips softly, now beginning to rub up and down your sides.

One sweet kiss over your lips melts into a slow, passionate makeout session and Bobby could care less who's watching and who's thinking what.

Hank glances over momentarily just to see what’s going on between you two and whistles under his breath, but you’ve already become well aware this is how Bobby chooses to show you off in front of everyone.

‘Bobby’s mine…’ Loving and reveling in the affection and attention, you can practically feel Lindsey’s eyes all over you and Bobby; you’ve never wanted her to drown in her jealous misery so much in your life.

Bobby parts his lips away from yours slowly, breaking the kiss but still keeping his arms around you. “The rest of you can just feel free to listen and watch since you all have nothing better to do.”

You giggle, embracing your boyfriend before noticing the little baggie of heroin tucked into Bobby’s pocket that he begins to pull out.

Bobby smirks at you—his lips still wet from your kiss. “There’s enough in here for the both of us, baby, don’t you worry.” Bobby holds out the bag in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumbs over the finely ground powder inside.

“Coming down?” The idea of taking heroin again is indifferent to you this time, knowing you can handle your own dose, but you wonder if it’ll make any difference to Bobby; his convincing words are laced with honey and Bobby’s barely persuaded you do to anything yet.

“I hid it pretty well this time, huh?” Bobby nods, chuckling. “Yeah, I don’t know how it’s all gonna hit me if I don’t get a fix right after almost dyin’ on this shit.”

‘How ironic is it that we continue to do the same shit that we know will always have the possibility to kill us? Addicting…ironic…that’s all it’s ever been.’

“You might as well too, baby.” Bobby flicks the bag of heroin with the back of his fingernails to loosen and spread the powder inside evenly. “I don’t want you comin’ down when I’m up, okay?”

“Okay,” you decide, noticing a pleased grin forming on Bobby’s lips.

“Hey, Marcie!” Bobby looks up, raising his baggie in the air. “Get me somethin’ here, will ya? Smack isn’t gonna cook itself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcie walks over to her dresser, grabbing everything all in one hand; a spoon, a large pair of tweezers, a used syringe, a bottle cap, and a lighter before tossing it over to Bobby, then placing a small glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. “You can use mine, I didn’t have anythin’ earlier.”

“You’re missin’ out,” Bobby comments back to Marcie as you rest your head upon his shoulder.

Like second nature to him, you watch as Bobby begins to prepare the heroin before you. Bobby adds just the right amount of water onto the bottle cap, mixing in the heroin.

Bobby carefully picks up the bottlecap with the tweezers, holding it above the flame of his lighter as he begins to cook it—keeping a careful eye on everything.

“Be gentle to her and use a rubber band, huh?” You both hear Lindsey speak out, making yet another snarky comment toward you.

“Shut up,” Bobby replies, flickering off the lighter and setting the bottle cap back down on the coffee table.

“Just ignore her,” you mutter under your breath as you extend your arm out onto Bobby’s lap.

“Don’t need any rubber bands…” Bobby aims the tip of the syringe at one of your old injection spots upon your wrist. “Because I ain’t opening anything new on you, baby. Just going from the old here and…there.” Bobby aims the syringe down as accurately as he can.

You let out a deep breath, nodding in confirmation to Bobby who slowly begins to pump half of the heroin inside of you.

You watch as the mixture flows into your veins, instantly feeling a sense of relief and wonderous euphoria crashing into your mind and body all at once.

There’s even a split-second belief in your mind that you’d be stupid to refuse and second guess something like this ever again.

“Mm, that’s right, baby.” Stopping the injection, Bobby sees the relaxed look on your face and slowly pulls the syringe out of you.

You continue to lazily lean your head against Bobby’s shoulders, letting the high completely rush through you and take over you within a mere minute.

It’s in that moment as you begin to enjoy your high that Bobby shoots up the rest of the heroin in his own arm, but due to the change of dose and time past since he’s had another fix, it takes Bobby about two more minutes than usual to let the high settle inside of him.

Bobby pushes everything else aside the moment he feels the heroin’s high kick up in him, wanting to relax with you now.

“Real good shit, baby, ain’t that right?” Bobby talks in a low, mumbling voice, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Real dynamite stuff, but nothin’ to get us crazy, huh? Just enough.”

“Just enough,” you repeat softly, blushing as Bobby plants a kiss on your cheek.

Unlike you who enjoys a hazy, slow high and would rather do nothing but focus on it, Bobby basically springs back to life and is less irritable—avoiding coming down when he has his fix; it’s the difference between real addiction and chipping.

Having everyone else in the room slowly begin to prepare their fix and shoot up too takes no time, reminding you of the old days back in college when all your friends and roommates would get together to smoke weed and shoot up.

Marcie can barely speak out a word herself from how strong her high is and it’s the same with Lindsey whom she lays down on her bed side by side, giggling and trying to make slurred conversation.

Hank smokes a joint overtop of his heroin high, completely phased and out of reach but clearly enjoying himself.

When it comes to Bobby and his affection and love for you, nothing significantly doubles nor is a high needed to enjoy one another’s company, yet you’re still growing excited and all the more horny thinking you two may just end up having sex right here, right now.

Just the very thought of it now has your pussy aching and throbbing and before anyone else can realize it, you and Bobby get off the couch and walk into Marcie’s kitchen.

Wrapping your arms around Bobby’s shoulders, you let him pin you up against the kitchen wall—beginning to sloppily make out with you all over again.

Bobby’s hot tongue collides with yours, fighting for dominance in your mouth followed by eager touchiness from Bobby’s firm hands—toying with the tips of your nipples underneath your bra and squeezing your breasts over and over again.

Your shirt continues to ride up your stomach as the makeout session grows needier; Bobby keeps his hands greedily touching your breasts only to notice the look of shyness in your eyes. “When did you ever get so shy, baby?” Bobby murmurs against the nape of your neck, “you know you’ve done so much more with me.”

“More like I can’t wait for us to get home,” you whisper back, feeling a surge of newfound confidence within you, “but you can’t wait to fuck me so here we are.”

“You know I want you anytime, anywhere, baby,” Bobby grunts, unzipping the fly of his jeans to free his erection.

“Do it, do it.” You bite down on the corner of your lip, pushing your pelvis against Bobby’s. “Just do it already.”

“Never took me for a show off huh?” Bobby pumps his cock in one hand, smirking at the sticky droplets of precum beginning to ooze down his shaft. “I wanna get you ready for me baby—show you off too,” Bobby runs his free hand up your skirt, pulling the fabric of your panties aside your pussy to position and angle himself. “Let them all know you’re mine and mine only.”

“B-Bobby,” you moan softly, already feeling him teasing your clit with the tip of his cock.

Marcie’s the only one in the apartment who could care the least what you and Bobby are up to, why, and how. After all, it’s not the first time Bobby’s fucked someone in her apartment or the hallways of it before too.

Hank on the other hand becomes so high he can barely keep his eyes open after struggling to finish his joint, but Lindsey’s done the bare minimum of chipping and is very well aware of what’s going on in the kitchen.

From where Lindsey sits on the edge of the bed she can see a peek of Bobby’s ass from his jeans almost down to his knees, your skirt riding up to your waist, and your bare thighs wrapped around Bobby’s waist.

“This cunt is mine,” Bobby breathes hotly against your neck, roughly gripping both sides of your hips, “online mine, and I get to fill you up.”

‘Oh my God.’ Every inch of your body writhes for Bobby as you feel his firm hands move up from your hips and roam over your breasts again greedily before going back down your waist.

Bobby snakes his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily; you return back his lustful insistency and roll your eyes back in pleasure to feel Bobby beginning to spread your pussy open with both of his thumbs.

“Mm!” You moan in Bobby’s mouth, squeezing your eyes shut.

Pressing her lips down firmly and quietly watching the two of you, Lindsey sees Bobby pull his right hand out from underneath your skirt and pop them into his mouth—licking and lubricating his fingers with his spit generously before rubbing them back over your sore clit.

Hearing filthy little moans continue to escape your lips, Bobby smirks against the nape of your neck and relentlessly rubs over your clit with the tips of his fingers as fast as he can.

Bobby applies the perfect amount of pressure over your clit at an angle, keeping his complete focus there to stimulate you close to orgasm.

You buck your hips onto Bobby’s fingers again and again—desperate for him to continue touching you and obsessed with the way Bobby works his slender fingers to please every sweet spot over your clit.

“Ohhhh, Bobby!” Moaning louder in longing desperation without a care as to who else notices or listens, you feel the warmth of Bobby’s cock begin to press up against the entrance of your pussy.

“Baby,” Bobby pants, slowly thrusting inside of you as slow and deep as he can to make you feel every inch of his cock with each push.

With his hips angled up to thrust in you back and forth with ease and his ruffled hair sticking to the sides of his face from beginning to sweat, you feel Bobby’s cock now easily beginning to slide out of the wet mess your pussy has become from all of his teasing and the fact it thrills you to fuck Bobby in front of everyone else.

Bobby presses the side of his cheek against yours, remaining close to your body and gripping your hips to thrust into you again and again—watching you take his cock in with little to no effort.

Marcie’s kitchen fills with the sounds of both of your whimpers, soft moans, and sloppy thrusting in an instant, but Lindsey’s the only one actively paying attention and watching Bobby fuck you against the wall.

Your pussy convulses and Bobby’s thick cock stretching you and the sensation of feeling filled by him brings you closer and closer to a sweet building orgasm.

Speeding up by the minute and fucking the life out of you roughly against the wall, Bobby’s quick to switch his speedy pace to rougher and even faster—now pounding into your pussy with no mercy.

Your thighs shake uncontrollably like jelly against Bobby’s hips and you can barely muster up the energy to shakily grip onto the mess his hair has become—still unable to hold back your shrieking moans.

Without even trying, the tip of Bobby’s cock comes into contact with your G-spot time and time again, making it feel like you’re on the verge of releasing an uncontrollable orgasm.

“Ohhh y-yes, yes, YES!” Feeling Bobby thrusting upwards, you practically begin to bounce on his cock from the angle he fucks you in against the wall. “B-Bobby, YES!”

As your body begs to feel Bobby’s cock in you again every time he thrusts out, Bobby gives your face a rough squeeze and hears you whimper against him—your thighs weakening and barely holding onto his waist now.

“M-more, more, more! Fuck me, fuck me!” You beg, desperately rolling your hips back onto Bobby’s cock.

“Oh baby, this is all for you,” Bobby smirks at you wryly, watching the way your pussy clenches against his shaft. “I know you fucking love this.”

Upkeeping a perfect rhythm of sloppy fucking, your breasts jiggle against Bobby’s chest and your knees begin to tingle as you’re just about to cum.

Even though Bobby can tell through your rapid breathing and body language reacting against his, Bobby continues to fuck you effortlessly with no sign of stopping for you to cum. “G-God, I’m so addicted to you, baby.”

You cock your head back against the wall with a shaky groan, welcoming the wet, harsh kisses Bobby leaves against your neck.

Had Bobby been anywhere else with you and had more time, even he knows he’d very fuck you again and again for hours until both of you couldn’t take it anymore; anything to please and tease you just the way you want it.

Skin slapping against skin, your inner thighs begin to redden from the constant contact of Bobby’s hips which only adds to the intense pleasure flowing through you.

“Cum for me, cum for me,” Bobby beckons, holding onto you as tightly as he can.

In an instant, a sensation of ecstasy rocks over your body with the release of your orgasm as you tightly clutch onto Bobby’s back for balance.

Whimpering and whining, you curl your toes and squeeze your eyes shut—feeling as though you’re seeing stars from the incredible orgasm you experience all as Bobby still thrusts inside of you.

“Uhhhh, fuck!” You hear a soft grunt come from Bobby’s behalf as he cums inside of you moments later—making sure to raise your hips upward and not spill a drop onto the kitchen floor.

Relief washes over your body from head to toe as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm, still trying to catch your breath and feeling your soaked pussy gushing against Bobby’s cock while he fills you with spurt after spurt of his cum.

Making a mess on Marcie’s kitchen floor, having the neighbors or anyone in the hallway hear, or even the idea of getting you pregnant with unsafe sex isn’t a concern to you or Bobby at all at this moment.

Still dazed from your high and enjoying every last lingering bit of your orgasm, you rest your chin over Bobby’s shoulder and gaze back out towards Marcie’s bed—locking eyes with Lindsey.

Lindsey stares at you completely unamused, but even you can tell through her expression that Lindsey’s blood boils in jealousy at the sight of you two and that she’s seen just about everything.

You grin back lazily at Lindsey, licking over your lips. Regardless of whatever she says or does now, you know better; Lindsey can’t fool you or anyone else for that matter.

Lindsey still wants Bobby badly as ever and the way she looks at the two of you now freshly fucked against the wall of Marcie’s kitchen only continues to prove it.

You giggle breathily, tilting your head back against the wall slowly as you feel Bobby thrusting inside of you yet again for a second round.

With your boyfriend’s lips kissing up your neck and having barely gotten a taste of you with just one orgasm, you let your body get lost in ecstasy—wanting to be fucked again and again.

#al pacino #al pacino x reader #melis-writes #bobby axel x reader #bobby axel x oc #bobby axel fanfic #the panic in needle park #the panic in needle park fanfic #the panic in needle park smut #bobby axel x reader smut #bobby axel #eyes like stars fanfic #the panic in needle park x reader

33 notes · View notes