The outsiders imagines

Unfaithfully yours

tim isn't the best boyfriend, but he makes up for it in bed

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I barely flinched when I heard pecks at my window start up at the simple hour of midnight; I had the sound of his desperate pebble throwing memorized. I sighed and continued rolling my wet hair up into curlers at my vanity mirror. When Tim Shepard came knocking on my window, it wasn't for anything wholesome. He may have promised himself to me and only me as my "boyfriend", but I knew it was a fat chance in hell that it was the truth. I hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks since the last boozed-up whirlwind night we had together.

The pebbles got louder at my window, making me wish my father would wake and shoot him right between the eyes. Eventually, his knuckles started rapping at the window with heaviness.

"Y/n, I know you hear me out here." His voice vibrated against the glass. I didn't budge. "I got some whiskey for us to share."

It didn't amuse me in the slightest, but it was the only way he knew how to get close to showing affection. He didn't leave much choice for me to open the window once he was already opening my window and climbing in with ease.

"What the hell?" I whispered-yelled and threw the curler I held in my hand down on my vanity. He had a disturbing look of enjoyment from my being startled, and waved a bottle covered with a brown paper bag in my face. Half of it was gone, and the smell mostly clung to him. His face was adorned with scratches and a couple of red splotches from someone's fist on his skin. He wasn't stumbling drunk, yet, but he was already off a quick fix of adrenaline and looking for the next thing to blow his steam off on, which was me this time. His hands were searching my body before I could register it, and headed straight into my panties. I smacked his forearm and pushed him back, which was easier to do since he was tipsy. "Oh no, go do that mess with the girls down at the Ribbon."

"I love it when you're feisty," he said before planting a sloppy, unattractive kiss on my neck. "Like you don't want it just as much as the other broads do."

Catching sight of his muddy boots ruining my cream carpet over his shoulder as he tried to eat my neck was the last thing that caused me to launch into a rant. I shoved him away with all my might and crossed my arms. "Who the hell do you think you are, Tim? I mean, you don't speak to me for almost a week and a half, then you come into my house like you own it—"

"Cut the shit, you ain't try to find out where I was, so who's the asshole here?" His confident position forced a face palm from me.

"Still you, Tim."

I sat down at the bar seat in front of my vanity and crossed my legs. "So, which girl was it this time? I'm wondering if you went for the big guns this time and tried to fuck Sylvia to get at Dally."

His lip curled in disgust. "My god, Y/n, I know I'm a piece of shit, but I'm not evil." He popped open the bottle of whiskey and took a swig before sticking it out for me to take a shot. I paused, flashing an eye roll and small scoff, and snatched it from him to take a shot.

"Don't act like I didn't see those glances you gave her at one of Buck's parties last time we went out together." I yanked at strands of wet hair with my index finger while a disgusted snarl formed on my face. I didn't know who to be more disgusted at. "Looking at the hem of her strip of miniskirt like you're a goddamn seamstress."

"Oh please, if I wanted her, or any girl for that matter, I could get 'em in under three seconds." He cockily scoffed.

"Then go do it."

His cockiness fell, and his face flattened into a grim look. My head tilted back as I giggled amusedly and knocked back some more of the strong whiskey.