#but i hate that just when i had a chance to actually come back

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere academic rival who really, really wishes he could just get you out of the way.

Dead dove Do Not Eat! MDNI ! NSFW !

Tw. Dubcon/Noncon, bullying, academic pressures, blackmail, oral sex, explicit photos, mentions of baby trapping, yandere, stalking, forced relationship, AFAB reader

Elias had a certain level of respect for you.

You both attended a prestigious university crammed full of students vying to make connections and nab a cushy position for themselves in the future, and while it was easy for him to be on top of the social and academic scenes, he knew you had to work a bit harder. He came from a very wealthy household, one where needing something was merely a concept and not something he ever actually encountered. You, on the other hand, definitely come from a lesser background than him and his circle. Your scholarship and just above the average academics seemed to have pushed you into a good spot to be hoisted into the same realm as him.

But he didn't really think of you much at first.

You were some nameless face that wasn't really worthy of being around him. Maybe he would catch glimpses of your hair, or someone woud mention you in passing and he'd pretend to be intruiged.

It was really when you started to be compared to him of all people that he started to really pay attention.

You were smart, cunning, and ruthless when it came to your assignments. Just like him. Normally he worked overtime, paid industry professionals to help review his papers, his study materials and poured blood sweat and tears into his academics. And yet you somehow managed to be on his level with less than half the resources. It drove him up a wall because if you were nearly as good as him now, then what could you be like if you had the chance?

Elias was like a man obsessed after your sudden, explosive rise in the minds of professors and lecturers alike. He spent hours studying, shirking his friends and other responsibilities just to make sure he was still better than you, to keep you in your place.

He started to focus in more on your personal life, too.

Where on earth did you come from? He's half convinced that you were genetically designed in a lab to piss him off. But the more he glares at the back of your head when you're not looking, the more he's transfixed. You're like a black hole, or some kind of other abyss like metaphor. Fuck, you had him writing poetry in his head. He hated poetry. He hated you. Or at least, he would really like to hate you, but he couldn't. You had the same amount of drive as him, maybe even a little more. No matter what he did, he was forced to acknowledge you, forced to be aware of every twitch of your hand or every flutter of your eyelids. To him, you were something that demanded attention, even if it was taken from him through gritted teeth.

The only reprieve from his spiraling was the fact that you felt the same way about him. He liked to imagine that you were just as obsessed with him, sitting there in the late hours of the night writing down equations with him as your sole motivator.

But then he finds out that he's not even occupying your mind, and he loses his shit.

"Oh Elias? Yeah I guess he's fine. Huh? Rivals? What the- no way I just want good grades. He has nothing to do with it haha."

You just said it in passing when someone teased you about it, and he knew that he shouldn't linger on your words for too long. If anything, it should make him feel better. You had nothing against him, so it meant everything was fine, right? Wrong. It was so wrong.

Elias was seething, nearly throwing a tantrum. How could you not even think about him. Him! You were some piddling, pathetic excuse for a human being, and you had the audacity to not even regard him when he spent nearly every waking moment thinking about you.

He was fine just watching you from the corner of his eye. He was fine knowing that on some level, the two of you had a respectable if not distant relationship. Just because in some aspect, he wanted a piece of you all to himself. And if you weren't going to let him just have a little bit of your life, your passion, your drive, he would just take all of you instead.

He follows you into the library late one night. You're sitting there, glowing in the warmth of the nearest lamp while your pen makes soft scratching noises against the paper. You look pretty. You've always looked pretty to him. You don't notice him as he approaches, and he feels any vestiges of doubt or restraint float away. Even now, as he loomed over you, you didn't even spare him a glance.

The library was empty. He made sure it was so before hand, and he's glad he did. The quite air was shattered by the sound of him shoving you over the priceless lacquered wood desk. Your eyes go wide as you take him in, and his hands fly up to your throat.

"Augh! What are you-?"

"Shut up." He hisses and narrows his gaze. Your pulse is racing underneath his fingers, and he has half a mind not to crush your windpipe into oblivion so that he can be the last one to feel it. "You have no idea," He mutters and leans in close. Your frightened breath ghosts over his skin, and he shudders. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first time he's ever been so close to you. It feels so right. He never wants to be away from you again. Not when you look so damn alluring with tears rolling down your cheeks and your clothes rumpled on the floor by his feet.

He wants you like this always, with your twitching cunt stuffed full of his fingers and your cries filling his ears. Soft, wet squelching noises met each of his ministrations, and a cruel, wonder filled grin spread across his face.

"You have no idea how much you've driven me wild," He laughs. It's a sharp sound that grates on your ears. "How much you infuriate me," Each word is punctured by a thrust, by a curling motion that has you gasping and seeing stars.

If this is what he has to do so that you notice him, so you will just fucking care about his existence more than you would any other speck of dust on the street, then so be it.

It only gets worse from there.

Elias takes photos of you. So many. Ones of your crying face, ones of your leaking pussy, some of him shoving his dick past your puffy lips. Once the camera shuttered and they were in his hands, it was all over.

He played the role of your boyfriend after that.

There wasn't a moment where he wasn't hovering over your shoulder, whispering threats into your ears. He gets you to start doing worse in your classes and on your assignments, and for once, he's happy. He finally has your eyes on him, and if you ever try to leave him or say anything, then he'll make sure you can never show your face around here again. Don't worry, though. He's kind enough to keep it so you won't fail outright. In fact, he'll just slip some money to some of the professors so you don't have to do anything other than sit on his lap and pay attention to him while he actually works for the top spot.

Elias takes you out on fancy dates as if it's any way to soothe the sting of having your life ruined. He pays for everything and practically preens under the feeling of finally getting what he wants. He's such a brat, and he doesn't even care about hiding it when he's with you. Part of the reason why he likes you is he can be his nasty, awful and conniving self and you have no choice but to accept it. He doesn't mind if you're reluctant or stubborn. In fact, he kind of likes it because in the end, you still gave in to have a chance to graduate from a prestigious school. And plus, now you're living the high life with him! It's kind of a win win if you think about it.

He loves having you sit on your knees (a cushion underneath them of course. He wouldn't want you to ever actually get hurt) and taking his cock in your mouth while he studies. You look so cute like that, with your eyes all narrowed in mildly hidden frustration, and he loves it even more when he thrusts into your throat. You always make these little spluttering noises that just drive him wild, and he clamps his thighs around your head to keep you there.

Elias who soon becomes the university's beloved model student. He's not going to let anyone get in his way ever again, especially not after he has you to provide for now. After all, he's got plans for you. Once he manages to put a baby in you, he'll know that your future family is secured, and he's got to support all of you. There's no way he can fail now!

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, small amount of angst, some hurt/comfort. also kinda problematic paige but i get her

a/n - guess who’s endo cramps are killing her!! that’s right, me! fml. as usual this is unedited but i’ll come back to edit later! also, i changed paige’s step-dad’s name from tim to dean because i remembered that azzi’s dad is named tim and i felt like that would be confusing lol. also, thank you so much for all the fic recs i got! i’m so excited to start working on them :3

They’re ten minutes into the thirty-minute car ride and nobody has said a word. Country music is playing quietly over the radio, and Dean and Amy keep glancing at each other. But the awkward silence is deadly.

Nobody spoke earlier, either. After Paige dropped the bomb. It was silent for a good minute before Dean had coughed loudly and turned back to the car, getting wordlessly into the driver’s seat. Amy stared at them for another minute or so, giving them no clue as to what was going on in her head other than her ears, which rapidly turned bright red. Finally, she’d shook her head and said, “We will talk about this when we get home,” before following her husband into the car.

As soon as they were both out of hearing range, Paige had sagged, and Azzi’d looked over at her, concerned. Usually, she’d lay a hand on her arm but she wasn’t sure if Paige wanted to be touched, especially by her, so instead she’d said, “Remember, we can leave anytime.”

Paige had nodded stiffly. And then, without looking at Azzi, she’d gotten into the car as well, leaving the door open for Azzi to follow suit.

And now they’re on the road, Paige and Azzi sitting in the back seat like two little kids in trouble. Azzi wants to go on her phone to avoid the awkwardness but her parents raised her to be polite, no matter the circumstances, so here she sits, stiff and awkward while she rides in this car that smells new and fancy and she hates it.

Chancing a glance over, Azzi sees that Paige is still staring out the window, the same thing she’s been doing the whole car ride, and Azzi hates that, too, because Paige only ever gets quiet when she’s bone-tired or truly upset. And Paige got a pretty good nap on the plane.

Based off the way she acted to Azzi’s words before they got on the road, Azzi’s pretty sure she’s doing that thing where she shuts people out because she’s mad or on the verge of tears or thinking too hard. And when she does this she can get mean, because she’s trying to protect herself, and it comes out all wrong.

She’s always done this, been reluctant to open up about the hard stuff, shut out the people who care about her. She and Azzi have talked about it a lot. She once admitted that Azzi was the first person to get her to actually talk about her feelings. But despite Azzi’s way with Paige, and despite the fact that they just get each other in a way no one else ever has, they still have their flaws. Azzi still doesn’t always know the right thing to say. And Paige still gets mean.

This fact keeps Azzi glued to her seat, thinking sidling closer and trying to comfort her best friend would only end badly. Azzi acts like she has a tough skin but often, the things Paige says when she gets like this cut deep, and it ends with both of them hurt. She’s scared to add a fight between the two of them onto whatever will surely go on with Paige and her parents later. So she stays put, even though every bone in her body is telling her to make Paige better.

Azzi has only managed this for maybe five minutes when she glances over again and notices that this time, Paige’s hand is splayed over the middle seat, fingers tapping anxiously, almost like she’s subconsciously reaching over. And that sight alone is enough to get Azzi sliding over, moving Paige’s hand so she doesn’t sit on it. Dean looks at her through the rearview, but Azzi pretends not to notice.

Paige doesn’t look over when Azzi settles in beside her. But she does reach blindly for her hand before taking it and placing it in her own lap, playing with the fingers nervously. Azzi breathes in relief. Paige hasn’t rejected her outright—she can’t be too upset. At least not yet.

They sit like that for the remainder of the ride.

When they pull into the driveway, Paige gives Azzi’s hand a squeeze before subtly shaking herself out and exiting the car. Azzi follows, afraid to be alone with Paige’s parents for even a second.

Before Paige can close the door, Amy calls, “Bring your bags into your room, Paige. And when you’re done come down and talk to us in the kitchen.” There’s a weighted pause. “Alone.”

Paige doesn’t answer, just slams the door shut. Azzi winces.

Azzi doesn’t say anything while Paige opens the trunk, or when she starts aggressively pulling their things out, or even when she slams the trunk shut. No, Azzi keeps her mouth shut, wanting to allow her best friend to seethe in peace, but when Paige slams into her shoulder when she passes her, Azzi doesn’t want to let it slide. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?”

“Get your bags,” Paige responds gruffly.

Okay, so it’s gonna be one of those times. Perfect.

Despite not wanting to, Azzi does as she’s told, gathering her bags and following Paige to the front porch. She tries not to think about how usually Paige would’ve carried her things for her.

Paige opens the door without a word and they walk inside. The house is nice, open, smells of cedarwood. Paige doesn’t give Azzi a chance to look around, though, instead walking briskly to the staircase, lugging her shit upstairs with impressive strength, and Azzi thanks God she’s in such good shape because she’s practically jogging by the time they arrive at a room at the end of the hall.

“Paige—“ Azzi starts to stay, but Paige cuts her off by throwing her own backpack off her shoulder and dropping her suitcases, as if she’s trying her hardest to make as much a ruckus as possible.

Azzi places her things much more nicely on her usual side of the bed, eyeing Paige cautiously the entire time. It’s the only reason she’s able to catch her before she leaves, anticipating her movements just like she does on the court and darting between her best friend and the door, blocking her.

For the first time in nearly an hour, Paige looks her in the eye, and there’s fire there. “Move, Azzi.”

“No.”

“God,” Paige sighs, “seriously, don’t piss me off. Get outta my way.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi repeats, keeping her feet planted.

Paige stares at her and then shakes her head. “Why are you being so fuckin’ annoying?”

“Don’t,” Azzi says, trying to stop her before she gets too fired up, but it’s already started.

“No, Azzi, you don’t,” Paige snaps. “I knew you were gonna get like this, do your fuckin’ peace and love shit that you think will solve everyone’s fucking problems.”

Azzi swallows hard. It’s been years since Paige went on a rampage like this, and she opens her mouth to stop her, but is quickly interrupted.

“It doesn’t solve anything, dawg. It actually makes shit worse, because it’s so motherfucking annoying having you acting like everything’s fine when you don’t even know.” Paige shakes her head, taking a step towards her. “And that’s the thing, is you really don’t know but you wanna pretend like you do. You don’t know what it’s like to have your mom fuckin’ leave you for some fuckass guy, for her to have new kids outta state and raise them to be hateful just like her. Just like him.”

At this point, Azzi has tears in her eyes, and she attempts desperately to swallow them down. “Did you forget that my dad fucking left me when I was a baby? I’ve never even fucking talked to him, Paige. He doesn’t want shit to do with me.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” Paige sends her a withering glare, so different from the way she usually looks at Azzi. “You have Tim. You have your mom and your brothers and they all love you so fucking much.”

“You have your dad!” Azzi responds, throwing her hands in the air. “You have Drew, you have Alora!” A tear escapes, against her will, and she wipes it furiously away. “You have me, Paige,” she says, more quietly now. “I love you so fucking much. So you don’t get to take this shit out on me and say mean things to hurt my feelings. That’s not—it’s not fair.”

As soon as she sees the tears welling in Azzi’s eyes, Paige softens, her shoulders slumping, eyes turning on her with guilt rather than venom. “Az, don’t cry.”

For some reason, this makes Azzi more mad, and she turns away to face the door, always having hated crying in front of others. “Well if you say mean shit to me, I’m gonna cry, Paige,” she mumbles, though there’s not much fire to her weak, shaky tone.

“Hey, no, you’re right,” Paige reaches for Azzi’s shoulder, trying to turn her around, but the tears have started now and they’re not going to stop anytime soon so Azzi stays turned firmly away. “Azzi, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ Paige cuts herself off on a sigh. Her hand falls off Azzi’s shoulder, and for a second Azzi thinks she’s going to walk away, but then a pair of arms wrap tenderly around her waist and Paige’s chin is wresting on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I was wrong for that, I shouldnt’ve said any of that shit.” When Azzi doesn’t respond, instead burying her face in her hands to try and hide what she’s sure is an ugly cry, Paige squeezes her tighter. “Azzi, please don’t cry, I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, for real. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just so scared about my parents and I took it out on you, I fucked up.”

Azzi nods into her hands, taking a deep breath to try and stop the embarrassing flow of emotion. “I know, Paige,” she tries, but it comes out sort of as a whimper and this only makes Paige circle around to stand in front of her, full-on hugging her now, burying her face in her neck and rubbing her back soothingly.

They’re silent for another moment before Paige says, “I’m serious, Az. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Azzi knows this, fundamentally, but there’s still a part of her that sort of cracked at hearing her best friend tell her that she was annoying, that her efforts to help always fall flat. “You shouldn’t have said it, then,” she stutters, letting Paige hold her close even as her face doesn’t come out of its hiding spot.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have. You’re the only person who can ever make me feel better and I—fuck. Azzi, I’m sorry, I can’t believe—I never wanna hurt you.” Paige lifts her head out of her neck to nuzzle into Azzi’s hair, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind her ear. “Never wanna make you cry.” She plants another kiss there, and Azzi’s breath hitches. From the crying or from something else, she doesn’t know.

Sighing shakily, Azzi finally pulls her head out of her hands to look up at Paige, placing her hands at her chest almost as if she’s about to push her away. She’s sure her mascara is ruined by now but she can’t bring herself to care too much. “It really hurt when you shoved me outside, too.”

A pained expression flits over Paige’s face, and she nods, looking almost sick. “Fuck. I’m—I’m sorry, Azzi. I’m so sorry. Is your arm okay? Does it still hurt?”

Azzi can’t take the guilty look on Paige’s face and shakes her head no. It doesn’t seem to relieve much of anything.

Breathing deeply, Paige closes her eyes and then leans her forehead against Azzi’s, bringing her hands up from her waist to stroke over her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, and Azzi’s knows that the nickname wasn’t a slip-up this time, wasn’t just a habit from their pretending. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry.”

And with that, Azzi isn’t mad anymore. Her feelings are still hurt and the things Paige said are still going to replay in her head for quite some time, but at least for now, Azzi just can’t be mad. Because Paige is going through something she could never imagine going through.

“I’m sorry, too,” Azzi breathes, and Paige rears back, but before she can protest, Azzi says, “about your parents. About this whole…situation.” She looks down at her hands on Paige’s chest, and, deciding she won’t be needing to push her away anymore, she slides them up to her shoulders. “It’s shitty and you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position.” She shrugs, swallowing back the last couple tears that threaten to fall, trying to regain at least some of her composure. “I’m going to be here for you, okay? I always am.”

Paige nods. “I know you will.”

“And that means,” Azzi goes on, “you can’t do this again. You can’t take it out on me. You can’t push me away. Because that makes it really fucking hard for me to help you, and I want to help you.”

Paige nods again, more solemnly this time, moving her hands back to circle her waist. “Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m so sorry for—“

Azzi holds a hand up to Paige’s lips, effectively shutting her up. “Okay, stop. I accept your apology, I promise. Just, show me you’re sorry and don’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige says. “‘Course.”

“Good.” Breathing mostly even now, Azzi pulls Paige in for another hug.

With a heavy sigh, Paige hugs her back. “We’re in it together, hm? From now on, together.”

Azzi rests her cheek on Paige’s shoulder, the weight of her arms around her, the feeling of her skin and bones, so familiar. “Yeah. Together.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look at her, and when Azzi reciprocates, she’s uneasy to find that Paige is giving her that same new look. The perplexed, maybe enthralled?, almost worried look that has taken over her face more often than can be explained ever since the first time after their kiss. Azzi really wants to work out what it means.

But, as always, Paige corrects herself and it’s gone as fast as it arrived. “We’re good?”

Azzi nods, smiling softly despite herself. “Yeah, P. We’re good.”

—————————————

Paige has been downstairs with her parents for nearly an hour.

From what Azzi can hear from her spot at the top of the stairs, it doesn’t sound to be going too well. The three of them keep going from yelling to whisper-yelling to yelling again, and Azzi swears Amy has cried like five times at this point.

When Azzi hears Dean say, “We just don’t allow sinners in this house, Paige,” and Paige snap back, “Do not use God against me right now!” Azzi figures it might be time to intervene.

Trying to come up with something quickly, she pulls out her phone and dials Paige’s number. She hears Paige’s phone ring downstairs, and the three of them go quiet before Paige says, “Just—one second,” and then there’s a click on the other line and she’s answering. “Um, hi?”

“Pretend I’m your dad,” Azzi says, hoping she’s not on speaker.

“What?”

“Just pretend I’m your dad, Paige. Seriously.”

“Uh, okay.” The line gets a little muffled and Paige says, “It’s dad.” Azzi can hear both Amy and Dean let out audible groans downstairs.

“Okay, now tell them that I—your dad—am offering to fly you home.”

“I…wha—“ Azzi can tell Paige wants to argue but can’t with her parents right in front of her, so instead she sighs and the line goes muffled again. “He’s, um, he’s offering to fly me home.”

Azzi only has a second to hope and pray that Amy shares Paige’s competitive nature before Amy is saying, “What? You told him about this?”

“No,” Paige answers, “he just knows how you’re like now. And he wants Azzi and I to have a good summer, not a shitty one with shitty people.”

“If you want to go back to your dad’s, go,” Dean says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. Maybe this won’t work.

But then, bless her evil, horrible soul, Amy is stepping in. “No. Absolutely not. I will never hear the end of it if we send you to your father after inviting you over. We just…” Amy sighs, and Azzi thinks she can hear her start crying again. “We want what’s best for you, Paige.”

It’s silent for a moment. And then, “Let me be happy, Mom. Let me see my siblings. Let me and my girlfriend have a good trip with y’all.”

Dean interjects. “We really don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

“I don’t care,” Paige replies viciously. “I love Azzi. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fuckin’ girl. I…” Paige pauses, quite abruptly, and Azzi wonders if something happened. But then she hears a heavy inhalation and a quiet, “I love her, Mom.”

Azzi knows it’s for the act, but she can’t help the way her stomach somersaults, hearing the words she’s always wished Paige would say.

“And it doesn’t matter what you think of it,” Paige continues. “I’m happy. My faith is strong. And what goes on between me and God isn’t your fucking business.”

“Language,” Amy says immediately. But then it’s silent for another weighted moment and Azzi can imagine Amy and Dean sharing that knowing, judgmental look of theirs. Her heart races while she waits for a consensus, and she’s sure it’s 100 times worse for Paige. But after a few moments, Amy says, “Tell your father that you’re staying here with us. Your siblings will be home tomorrow morning. The four of us adults have a reservation at a restaurant tonight, and we’re all going to go.”

“Mom—“

“We will try,” Amy sighs. “Azzi’s a nice girl. We will—we’ll try.” There’s something tired in her voice when she says, “Right, Dean?”

No answer. But Azzi can imagine him nodding gruffly, and a moment later, with no more words from any of them, Paige appears at the bottom of the stairs. She startles a little when she sees Azzi sitting there at the top.

“Hi,” Azzi says sheepishly, finally disconnecting their call. “I was eavesdropping.”

Paige stares at her, and then starts climbing the stairs, a small smile overtaking their face. “Thanks for saving me.”

“I told you I would,” Azzi replies, waiting for Paige at the top. “So. Dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Paige gets to the second-top step and stays there, so she’s just a little shorter than Azzi.

“Dinner as a fake lesbian couple with your homophobic parents,” Azzi clarifies, and Paige laughs nervously.

“Uh-huh,” she responds. “I think we needa nap before that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Azzi agrees, pulling Paige up to stand with her. “That is an amazing idea.”

——————————————

Azzi is rudely awoken to none other than an old Tyler, The Creator song blasting through the tinny speakers of Paige’s phone. Azzi groans, and she blindly reaches out for Paige to turn the damn thing off, but her hands only find cold bedsheets. Annoyed, Azzi cracks her eyes open and tries desperately to find Paige’s phone, realizing in the process that Paige’s side of the bed is cold. Strange, considering they still have two hours until dinner.

Finally, after probably thirty seconds of this stupid song playing over and over again, Azzi finds the phone tangled up in the bedsheets and slams the off button. It’s sort of pointless, though, because now she’s very much awake and will not be going back to bed.

She sits up in Paige’s bed, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. The sun is shining through the curtains, reflecting off the mirror above the vanity and showcasing the off-white walls, the pink door to the adjoining bathroom—which Azzi now realizes is in use, the sound of the shower muffled through the door. She hadn’t noticed before because Paige isn’t awfully singing to some Mariah Carey song. Other than the water, it’s dead quiet in there. She must be nervous.

Fiddling with the pink sheets, Azzi feels nervous, too. Usually, merely being in Paige’s space comforts her, but this room—it doesn’t feel like Paige. It doesn’t smell like her, and it’s too pink. There’s no purple at all, actually. And the vanity—Paige has never known how to do much else other than mascara. In high school, she needed Azzi to tell her what concealer was for, and to teach her how to curl her lashes. She certainly wouldn’t have use for an entire vanity dedicated to makeup. The walls are also decorated with cringy, sort of Bible-thumping quotes and paintings of flowers. There’s not a single basketball poster.

No, this room isn’t Paige at all and Azzi feels an ache in her heart, thinking about how out-of-place she must have felt whenever she came to visit as a kid. How out-of-place she must feel now.

Without Paige to talk to, and without her room to comfort her, Azzi settles for laying on Paige’s side of the bed, burying her face in the blankets, and there she is—vanilla, like her hair products, and lavender, like the lotion she wears and the linen spray she uses, because it calms her down.

Azzi thinks she just might fall back asleep, enveloped in Paige’s scent, but then the door to the bathroom opens and steam billows out just before Paige does, wrapped in a towel, hair wet down her shoulders. Azzi only has a second to ogle the water drops adorning Paige’s collarbones before she’s spotted, and Paige gives her a curious look. “You still sleep? I left my phone here so the alarm would wake you up.”

“Yeah, no, it did,” Azzi says, sitting up quickly, before she looks like a weirdo snuggling up in Paige’s spot. “Just tryin’ to hype myself up for dinner.”

Paige gives her a commiserating look. “Me too. I’m shitting my pants, for real.”

“That why you couldn’t sleep?” Azzi asks, stretching out her back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Paige hums, bending down to rifle around in her suitcase. “I’on even know what to wear. Apparently it’s some fancy restaurant but I’m not wearing a fucking dress.”

Azzi laughs at that, lifting her hands when Paige shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I’m serious, dawg! And it’s not like I brought a suit or nothing.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Azzi says, standing up. “Just wear jeans and tuck a t-shirt or something. You’ll look cute no matter what.”

Paige straights up and gives her a cocky grin. “You think all that?”

“Chill, P,” Azzi rolls her eyes, shoving Paige’s shoulder a little.

“What were you doing on my side of the bed, anyway?” Paige asks, and Azzi can’t help the way she freezes. She’d thought Paige hadn’t noticed.

Trying to cover her reaction, she shrugs casually. “I didn’t know you owned the right side of the bed.”

“Nah, we’ve always had our sides,” Paige shakes her head, taking a step closer. “Why was you all cuddled up in mine?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Azzi says, trying for sarcastic but she can’t even really make eye contact, “maybe I rolled over or something.”

“Please. You don’t move in your sleep.”

“Maybe I do. You don’t know.”

“I think I’ve slept with you more often than I’ve slept alone,” Paige scoffs, taking a step even closer so that they’re practically chest-to-chest. “I know damn well.”

“Okay, seriously,” Azzi says, taking a small step back and stumbling when her thighs hit the bed, “go get dressed, you weirdo.”

“Mm,” Paige says, pretending to think about it. But before Azzi can move away, she grabs her waist and they both fall onto the bed while Paige starts to tickle her like crazy.

“Paige!” Azzi screams, laughing so hard she almost can’t breathe. “Get—off, oh my God!”

Paige is laughing right along with her, and it’s a miracle her towel hasn’t dropped yet. “Tell me the truth!”

“What the…” Azzi giggles and squeals when Paige goes for her armpit, “fuck!”

“I won’t stop ‘till you admit it!”

“Okay, fuck, okay!” Azzi pushes Paige off her, and Paige lets up just enough for her to gasp and say, “It smelled like you, okay? The sheets, they…” Paige has stopped completely now, staring at her with a shit-eating grin on her stupid face, “they smell like you.”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, “and you missed me so much while I was in the shower that you needed to smell my sheets?” She jabs her one more time in the ribs, making Azzi shriek, before rolling off her. “You lil creep.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Azzi insists, even though that’s exactly what it was like. “Now, seriously, go get dressed. You got me all wet.”

What Azzi means by that, of course, is that Paige’s damp towel and sopping hair had transferred to Azzi’s own clothes and hair. But Paige can’t be normal about anything, so she looks over and grins slyly.

“Don’t,” Azzi sighs.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Paige says, sitting up in bed and pulling Azzi up with her. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed. I know I make a lotta girls wet.”

“Stop being weird,” Azzi says, as Paige bends down once again to pull an outfit from her suitcase.

She begins walking back to the bathroom. “I’m not the one who gets turned on by tickling,” Paige calls over her shoulder. Just before she closes the bathroom door behind her, she says, “Don’t worry, we can take care of you after dinner, mama,” and winks at her.

Azzi’s shoe hits the door just as it clicks shut.

—��———————————

They drive to the restaurant in silence.

It’s similar to their car ride from the airport, though it is a little less tense than before. Paige isn’t fidgeting too much beside her and her parents aren’t giving each other looks the entire time. That’s gotta be a good sign.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Amy and Dean start chatting idly, Paige and Azzi trailing behind when they walk inside the fancy building and give the hostess their reservation.

It’s only when they’re finally seated that they are addressed.

“So, girls,” Amy says, her voice all forced cheerfulness, “what looks good?”

“I dunno,” Paige mumbles, and Azzi kicks her under the table before saying, “Have you guys ever been here before?”

Amy looks a little startled at Azzi’s voice, but she recovers quickly, looking over at Dean with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah, we come here sometimes.”

Azzi smiles politely. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Um,” Amy says, and then she sort of jerks and Dean winces, and Azzi’s sure Amy has also just kicked him under the table.

Apparently well-trained, he speaks immediately. “We love the spinach ricotta.”

Azzi hums, then nudges Paige. “That sounds good, right?”

“Uh…” Paige looks like she wants to be difficult, but then she sees the warning stare Azzi is giving her and straightens up a little, “yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wanna share?”

Paige sighs, but luckily it’s barely audible. “Yeah, sure. Let’s share.”

Azzi leaves herself out of the conversation after that, letting Paige answer her parents’ conversation starters. When the waitress comes to take their orders, Paige gets a glass of wine for the both of them. Neither of them really like wine, but it seems classy enough and it might take the edge off just enough that they can actually get through the night unscathed.

It’s not until their dinner arrives that Azzi is addressed again.

“So, Azzi,” Dean says, out of nowhere, “How’s the knee?”

Azzi’s hand goes subconsciously to her surgery scars. “Doing better. PT’s been going good.”

“Good, good.” He leans back in his seat, and Azzi senses trouble. Something about the way Paige protectively rests her arm across the back of Azzi’s seat makes her think she senses it, too.

“You get injured a lot, huh?” He asks.

Azzi sort of hates the way her face gets hot, hoping it doesn’t show up on her brown skin. “I’ve torn my ACL twice, yeah.”

“And your meniscus, right?” he prods.

Without really noticing it, Azzi looks over to Paige, and that’s apparently all Paige needs to jump in. “Hey, let’s not talk about it.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, scoffing. Amy is looking between the three of them nervously. “It’s hard not to talk about. Azzi, you don’t even play basketball at this point.”

“Um,” Azzi replies, her instincts telling her to get hot-headed but with the way Paige is buzzing beside her, she’s gonna need to keep her cool.

“What the hell?” Paige says, her hand going from the chair to Azzi’s shoulder. She looks at Amy. “Mom, you said this wouldn’t happen.”

“Your father is just asking a few questions—“

“He’s not my fucking dad!” Paige exclaims, and Azzi jerks as she’s pulled into Paige’s side. “I already have a dad! He raised me, he loves me, Mom, and he’d never say this shit about Azzi.” Angrily, Paige stands up, tossing a few bills onto the counter and helping Azzi to stand beside her.

“Sweetheart,” Amy says, reaching limply for her daughter while Dean sits beside her looking far too smug. “Paige, where are you going? We’re your ride.”

“We’ll Uber,” Paige responds, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist. “I’m not gonna make her sit through your bullshit because you don’t know how to act like a decent fucking human being.”

“He was just asking—,” Any starts, sounding exasperated, but Paige cuts her off.

“You know what he was doing.” She glares at Dean, who shakes his head, smirking. “We’ll go back to the house,” she sneers. “But if this doesn’t change by tomorrow we’re leaving.”

And with that, she takes Azzi hands and leads them both out into the night.

—————————————

Paige keeps it together until they get to the house.

As soon as they’re stepping through the door, she turns away from Azzi and leans down to untie her shoes. Azzi does the same, but she doesn’t miss the sniffling sounds coming from her best friend.

Paige refuses to look at her when they start heading upstairs, and she tries to make a beeline for the bathroom once they close her bedroom door shut behind them. But Azzi stops her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “P?”

Another sniffle. And then a quick wipe at her face before she’s turning around, trying to look nonchalant but her eyes are red and her lip is trembling. “Yeah?”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, and Paige crumbles, hands coming up to her face as she starts crying.

Azzi steps forward to hug her, pulling her down to hide in her chest. “I’m sorry, P. I’m so sorry, this—this sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige replies, voice all small and muffled in a way that makes Azzi’s heart hurt. “I thought they were gonna try…I wouldn’t have taken you out with them if I knew…”

“Hey, it’s all good,” Azzi responds, running a hand through Paige’s hair. “I didn’t mind, really. I’ve heard worse.”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Paige just cries harder. “Fuck, Az, you shouldn’t have to do this.” She lifts her head up to look at her, and Azzi absently wipes her face. “This sucks. It’s the first week of summer and I—I was shitty to you and now my parents, and I—“

“Paige,” Azzi says sternly. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I couldn’t handle it. I can handle it. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

Paige nods, sniffling again. “You don’t gotta worry. I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, P,” Azzi says, and Paige winces, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I’m okay,” Paige insists. “Really. As long as we do this together, I’m okay.”

She straightens up like she’s steeling herself, and Azzi thinks maybe she should do the same.

This is only the first day of their two-week stay.

It’s going to be a long trip.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 23) (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Kissing, rice cooking unrealistically fast... oh and external sexual stimulation to the female genitals

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

You smiled as the door clicked shut behind Laurence, silence falling over the house. The prospect of a whole night without him had your heart so light, it made you giddy. He’d be home for dinner tomorrow, once again. You had hated these business trips, once upon a time, though they had rarely come this close together.

Now, a little voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn’t business he was leaving to do. Maybe he was actually going to see her, his other woman. It made you feel better about the fact that you had hoped to see him, your other man, while he was gone. 

That was presumptuous, to think of Alastor in any way that gave you ownership of him. You were married to another and there was no commitment between you. All there was between you was that unspoken thing and the kiss. Or was it kisses? Where did one kiss begin and the other end in such a situation?

Thinking about Alastor kept you from thinking about the feeling of Laurence’s hands on you. He chased away the thoughts of the pain in your core. It wasn’t as bad last night as it had been in the past, but you still ached in the aftermath. 

You simply had to lay down and let him have his way with you. Your body was for your husband’s pleasure. It was a sin to deny him, to resist. You were a weak woman and sometimes you failed to submit to him, to allow him to take from your body. 

It was better when you submitted, letting the tears slip down your face as he moved above you instead of fighting him. You knew it was your wifely duty. He had to do it if you were to have children, but you never could find yourself comfortable with the feelings of him against you, on you, in you. Even when he wasn’t hurting you, the idea of him touching you in the way a man touches a wife made your stomach roll. 

At least with Alastor, you didn’t have to be subjected to that. Alastor wasn’t your husband. He didn’t seek to sin with you. There was no danger with him. He would never hurt you. 

It was just after lunch when the knock came at the back door, a soft tap that you had been listening for all morning to hear. He waited on the back step, neatly dressed, smile growing all the wider as you opened the door. The sight of him had your heart leaping into your throat. 

“I was hoping to collect the lady of the house for a lovely evening, if she would be agreeable?” Alastor bowed at the waist as he spoke, offering you the utmost respect as a suitor would when asking to court a lady of standing. 

“She is,” you said, smile bright and a giggle slipping free from your lips as you gave him your hand. He made you feel young again. With Alastor, you felt the hope and giddy joy over the attentions of a handsome young man. By marrying so young, you had missed out on the magic and butterflies that were courting. “Should I grab the cape and hat?” 

“It’s not needed today,” Alastor said, tugging you through the door and onto the step with him. “It’s a simple evening in. Unless you would prefer a night out?” 

“An evening in sounds wonderful,” you said, face hot with the implications. If he was taking you for an evening in, would he spirit you away, back to his home? 

“Lovely,” he said, voice dropping the accent he wore for the single word. 

Your heart beat in your chest as you walked hand in hand through the yard as that single naked word ran circles through your mind. It was risky, walking hand in hand through the backyard like you were. There was a chance, ever so slight, that a neighbor could look over into your yard from one of their upper floors and see the two of you. It wasn’t enough of a risk to cause you to pull your hand from his. 

He had made it just past the apple tree before he turned on you, looming over you as you stood trapped between him and the tree, held in place by nothing but his eyes. 

“Would it be too forward for me to tell you I missed you?” Alastor spoke softly, his natural speech pattern slipping out at moments. “Or how delighted I was to find a response from you so soon?” 

“I missed you too,” you braved saying as his free hand reached up, tracing your jaw as he stepped closer. “Are you going to kiss me again?” you whispered timidly, afraid that you’d ruin the moment. 

“Would you like me to?” You could feel his breath wash over you with each word he spoke.��

Words failed you, locked in your throat as you nodded ever so slightly. It was selfish. It was risky. It was too close to home, but none of that stopped you from melting into his touch as he leaned in, closing this distance between you. His lips touched yours, soft caresses as he lightly kissed you. 

You sighed into the kiss as the contact between your lips became firmer as you leaned into him. How could a kiss feel so good? How could the touch of another’s lips on yours feel so different from what you had known? What else could feel better than you had known?

“We should get going,” Alastor whispered, voice rich, deep and naked before he cleared his throat and spoke again with, accent once again perfectly in place. “We don’t want to be seen.” 

Fresh nerves danced under your skin as you sat in the car, the world passing by as Alastor navigated down streets you had seen before. What a strange thought, that the way to Alastor’s home would become familiar to you. The nerves bunching in your stomach didn’t stop the easy conversation between you as Alastor asked your opinions on foods and different lunch options. 

Was it terrible that as you closed your eyes and relaxed into the seat, you imagined he was your husband? Was it wrong to imagine there was nothing horrible about this thing you two were doing? Was it horrible that you pretended it was your shared home you were on your way to? Perhaps it was, but that did nothing to stop the small smile from creeping up your lips as those thoughts ran circles through your mind. 

“You alright, darling?” Alastor asked, looking over to see the peaceful smile pulled across your lips.

“I am,” you whispered, eyes opening slowly to look at him. “Thank you.”

Alastor chuckled as he turned down the road you now knew lead to his home, tucked away from the city. Private. Alone. “Whatever for? I’ve not don’e anything yet.” 

“For bringing me out,” you said, eyes bouncing between him and the house, drawing closer. “And for passing the time with me.” 

“I’m just doing what I want to do,” Alastor shrugged as he parked the car, treating the statement as if it was nothing. For you, it was everything. He wanted to spend time with you, getting nothing but your time in return. 

He was out of his seat and around the car, opening your door for you before you opened it yourself. Ever the perfect gentleman, he held his hand out for you and waited for you to take it before stepping back and giving you room to exit the car. 

Without the rain and fog, you could see more of the area around Alastor’s home. Your eyes roamed the landscape, realizing how close to the swampy bayou you were for the first time. Tall trees reached toward the sky and swampy grass in the distance gave way to shorter wild grasses. It was a far cry from the neat and manicured properties found within the city. 

“Something on your mind?” Alastor asked as he slowly led you to the porch. 

“I like it out here,” you said after a moment of thought. 

“Do you, now?” You loved the softness in his face as he led you to the door. 

“I do. It’s peaceful out here.” 

The door opened with a soft click that felt somehow just as peaceful as the land around Alastor’s home. The afternoon sun illuminated the front room, bathing it in a warm light that made the space more inviting, not that it hadn’t been when you had first been here. Just inside the door, Alastor toed off his shoes again and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“What?” The single worded question came out naked of the accent he wore so much of the time and made him all the harder to resist. 

“You had said it was because of the rain.” You hid your giggles behind your hand as he stood tall in his socks, a few stray threads of fuzz giving away thier well worn state.

The giggles died as he stepped closer to where you had leaned against a bookshelf, having intended to support yourself with it while you unbuckled your simple heels. Instead, you could do nothing as Alastor invaded your space, your mind struggling to put thoughts in order as you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Now that you’ve crossed the line, that you’ve kissed him not once but twice, you struggled to know what the rules of your friendship were, what you could expect. It wasn’t a friendship; you reminded yourself. This was a tender flame of love and desire, an affair. 

He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before sinking to his knee in front of you. Your heart beat loud in your ears as his fingers easily worked the buckles free. Feather light touches of his fingers ghosted over your ankle as he worked.

He reverently lifted your foot, slipping your shoe off your foot with a quiet intensity the action had no business holding. After removing your shoe, he set it neatly by the wall, tucked right next to his. 

You watched, eyes wide, as he repeated the action with the other foot. 

Alastor’s attention left your foot as he guided it to the floor. His neck angled as he looked up at you. Your eyes met his as he took in the sight of you standing barefoot in his home. Your face was flushed as your fingertips rested against your lips as if they could steady your shaky breaths. 

Oh, what a sight you made! 

The pride that swirled in his stomach over the fact that he was responsible for the pretty look on your face. He was the reason you were flushed. It was his fault there was that soft affection in your eyes. 

“Did I overstep?” he asked as he rose to his feet again, sure he did not but offering you the chance to protest just the same. He needed you to want his touch, to want his time as much as he wanted to give it. It was a need he couldn’t begin to understand but a need just the same. 

More so, he needed you to be aware of your need.

“No, I…” You were not sure what to say exactly as Alastor took your hand in his. It was large and warm, the grip strong as he wrapped his fingers around yours. 

“You?” he asked as he led you through the living space and into his small, simple kitchen. You tried to gather your thoughts with each timid step you took. “Talk to me. There is nothing if we cannot talk to eachother.” 

“And if we do?” you asked, voice so soft you were sure he didn’t hear the question you dared to ask. “What is there if we do?”

“And if we do, it’s everything,” he said confidently, though you didn’t know what exactly that meant. “So tell me, my dear, what is on your mind, no matter how trivial?” 

“Why do you keep doing that?” 

“Doing what?” Alastor spoke with his back to you, picking up a few splintered logs into the stove in his small kitchen. They caught quickly, landing on the bed of coals that had been sitting hot and waiting for more fuel. The kitchen was small and cramped but reminded you so much of the kitchen you had grown up in. “I figured we’d make something simple.” 

“Kissing me?” You finally spat the question out. 

Alastor looked over at you, eyebrow raised as he scooped rice out of a bin. “Because I only have so much time to do so. Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” you answered too quickly, slapping your hands over your lips as if you could shove the word back into your mouth. 

“Wonderful!” Alastor all but cheered as he grabbed a few peppers from a basket. 

“I’m just not used to it, is all.” Your words came hesitantly as you opened the icebox, needing to look anywhere but at Alastor. 

There were packages wrapped in butcher’s paper sitting on the shelf, unmarked but neatly stored. You grabbed the first one and unwrapped it, peeling the paper back from the meat carefully, not wanting to touch the meat itself. The slab of meat was not something you recognized, though it looked somewhat like pork. While you didn’t know what the meat was, you knew it was not sausage. 

“This one, darling.” Alastor came behind you, plucking the package from your hand and re-wrapping it after pointing to a package tucked close to the side. “That’s for tomorrow’s roast.” 

“What is it?” you asked as you pulled out the package of sausages. 

“I figured you’d be far accustomed to little kisses,” Alastor said, instead of answering your question. He worked while chatting, rinsing rice, then put the pot on the stove. The heavy lid clattered loudly as he set it atop the pot. “Does he not kiss you?” 

“Not like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Alastor set to work cutting an onion. Joining him at his side, you sliced the sausage into bite size bits to match. 

“Like what?” Alastor hummed as he worked, arm brushing against yours as he dumped the vegetables into the bowl sitting on the back of the small workspace. 

“Pleasantly?” You answered after a moment, unsure what the correct words to explain something that felt so private within your marriage were. “Softly?” 

“My dear?” Alastor asked softly, scooping sausage into the bowl as you finished cutting it. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean to tell me you no longer enjoy it when he kisses you?” 

His eyes were locked on you as you pulled your lip between your teeth. Talk. Tell eachother things. He said that was what made the things between you what it was… whatever it was. 

“I never did,” you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes as you confessed your secrets. “I didn’t know it could feel good.” 

“You didn’t know?” Alastor chuckled at you before realizing you were serious. “Darling?” 

You watched as Alastor put a pan on the stove to heat, pouring a dash of oil in before turning for the bowl. He poured the contents and a selection of seasonings into the pan and quickly set to stirring the contents. Rich aromas quickly poured into the kitchen.

Alastor had to ask his question a second time to get you to answer. 

“No,” you finally said. 

“Forgive me for prying,” Alastor said carefully as he watched you. “But have you ever enjoyed your marriage?” 

“No.” You looked away from him as you answered. He focused his attention on the tasks at hand, putting the pot of rice on a trivet. He hummed as he returned to the stove to continue stirring the pan. “It’s not a wife’s duty to enjoy marriage, her joy comes from motherhood.”

It was the same thing you had been told all your life by your mother. It was something you had believed whole-heartedly. 

“What about courting?” Alastor asked as he pulled the pan from the stove. “Did you at least get to enjoy your courting?”

He didn’t want you to have. It would have pleased Alastor to know that you had found every moment with Laurence torturous. He wanted to be the first touch you enjoyed, the first man who’s hand you wanted to reach out for. It would please him to know you had never wanted another before him. 

“No, I-” You sighed as you grabbed two bowls out of the cabinet and set them next to the pans. You continued speaking as Alastor grabbed the wine glasses. “Courting was quick. My parents arranged it and I hardly knew Laurence before we… you know.” 

Alastor was quiet as he dished food up. It felt strange and domestic and you wanted it to be your life so much. It hurt that it wasn’t. Every time you realized this could never be yours was physically painful. 

Alastor poured wine and let the topic of conversation return to lighter things, resisting the urge to pry deeper. You had given him enough, for now, to allow him to suspect things were just as he wished. He didn’t want to risk pushing more and having that illusion shattered. 

Jokes and witty remarks filled the space. Each laugh and smile soothed nerves that had been feeling rather raw in the prior conversation. Slowly, you fell back into the relaxed ease that came with being with Alastor. 

You didn’t know what it was you were doing with Alastor, not exactly. You knew you cared for him deeply, and thought maybe he cared for you deeply. As the first glass of wine became the second and he spun you around his living room, cast in the warm glow of the setting sun and gas lights, you were more and more sure that he felt the same. 

You should get going, you knew that. It was getting late and staying later would look bad. But you wanted to. Each sip of wine had you longing for the sound of his laugh and the way his hands ran over you as he spun you around the floor. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Are you having a good night in, ma cherie?” Alastor leaned down and whispered in your ear as he caught you in his arms again, though he had no reason to whisper. 

“I am, yes.” You laughed, “I have the best times with you,” you confessed before you thought twice. 

“Good,” Alastor said, nose running up the side of your neck, coming so close to kissing it. Panic flashed to life in you as you squeaked away from him. “Is something wrong?” 

“I just-” Your face felt far too hot as you looked everywhere but at Alastor.

“Talk freely, my dear.” His voice was naked again, arms still wrapped around your waist. He had to allow some distance between your back and his chest so that he could look at you better. “Remember? What is it? If I overstep, darling, you need to tell me. I’ve never done this before.” 

You chuckled, the sound felt dry in your throat. “I’ve never been a part of… of an affair, either.” 

Alastor’s thumb ran along your jaw, “That too,” He chuckled, “But I meant, care. Felt this way. Wanted this. Wanted to do these things.” 

“I don’t-” Alastor spun you around the floor of his small living room. 

“I’m not inexperienced in anything but care. I care for you, deeply. Because I care for you deeply, I never wish to hurt you.”

“How does that work?” You asked, head tilted. The wine had made it easier to talk, to be open, but you hadn’t drunk enough to keep your mind from overthinking things. 

“I love you,” he said simply, as if the simple confession did not send a bolt of lightning down your spine. “And so I do not wish to cause you pain. It’s just that simple.” 

“Love is just pain, isn’t it?” you asked as you returned to the security of his arms. 

“No, I think not.” Alastor hummed a few beats of the music before continuing. “Often marriage is but love? Love is pleasure.” 

“Is that what I taste when you kiss me?” You knew what you felt for him but dared not say it, not when you struggled to wrap your mind around the idea that you could have love without pain. Loving Alastor was painful. It was the stabbing knowledge of the fact that he wasn’t yours and the fact that if he was yours, he would hurt you. “Is that what I feel when you touch me? Your- your love for me?” 

“Let me show you, Cher, how love can feel.” Alastor knew he was likely bending the truth. He didn’t know if it felt different for you when he kissed you than it had when he had kissed any of the other women he’d passed his time with. 

What he knew was it felt different for him. It was something he desired to do, that he had time and time again caught himself longing to do, instead pressing his lips to your hair as he got a grip on himself. He knew now what that feeling women were chasing when they clung to his coattails and fluttered their eyelashes at him. 

“I don’t,” you stumbled over your words as he danced you toward the couch tucked against the wall below the stairs. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Alastor sat down on the couch, pulling you near him “Do you trust me?” He asked as he held your hand, looking up at you as you stood in front of him. 

You hesitated as you looked down at him. This thing between the two of you was terrifying. It terrified you that it was turning more physical. You didn’t want to deny Alastor, but that was also not a pain you wanted to associate with him. The Alastor in your mind had nothing to do with the pain of the intimacy between men and women. 

“Trust me,” Alastor urged instead of asking again. You wanted to trust him. Alastor had never hurt you before. 

When you nodded, Alastor spread his legs wide, scooting back on the couch. You couldn’t fight the heat that rose in your face as he tugged you to him. 

“Sit,” he said, voice unadulterated and deep. 

You did, sitting stiffly, trying to ignore the way his legs felt pressing against your hips and the warmth of his crotch behind you. His hands brushed up your arms as his breath washed over your neck. A large hand snaked around your waist, pulling your back against his hard chest, causing you to let out a squeak. 

“Relax,” Alastor murmured, voice coming softly against your ear. “If you want me to stop, tell me. I won’t hurt you. I won’t force you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, not really knowing what was going to happen. 

How you were sitting was improper. You had sat in Laurence’s lap more than once, never by your own choice, but your heart had never beat as hard as it did now. Never did you gasp the way you did when Alastor’s lips touched your neck, just where your collar gave way to skin. 

He placed soft, small kisses along the skin as he worked his way up your neck. There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from tilting your head to the side, giving him more room for his trail of fire. 

“Does that feel good?” Alastor asked in a husky whisper. You whimpered your agreement as his hand reached up, snagging your jaw and twisting so that you could meet him as he leaned around your shoulder. “Better than when he does it?” 

“Yes,” you admitted, “I didn’t know it could feel good.” You struggled to form a thought as his lips kissed along your jaw before finding your mouth. 

“It can feel good to be touched,” Alastor whispered, hand wrapping around the hand you had placed on his chest to brace yourself with. “It should only feel good. Let me show you?” 

You whimpered his name, torn between kissing him again and fleeing. It was so much, so fast. The world was spinning as you sat, wrapped up in his arms, twisted between his legs. 

“A taste?” Alastor offered. “Let me show you a taste of what he’s depriving you of.” 

“I don’t understand.”

Alastor chuckled softly as he shifted, leaning back against the arm of the couch and draping a leg across the cushions, pulling you against him. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or your body as he held you. Never had you lain with a man that was not your husband. 

“Lean against me, Cher and trust me.” He ran his hand up and down your side and your arms. “Remember, you can tell me to stop.” 

“Okay,” your voice trembled as much as the rest of you as he pulled your skirt to bunch around your thighs. 

Alastor’s other hand pulled your jaw up and back so that he could kiss you again. He shifted, rising on his side some, pinning you between him and the back of the couch to a degree. He kissed you with a hunger that you recognized and yet it made you feel hot all over in a way such a hungry kiss never had before. 

His lips matched yours, working with you, pushing and pulling. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dissolving into the kiss as fire caressed your body. Gripping your ribs, firmly but not painfully, his thumb caressed the side of your breast, earning a gasp from you. 

His lips parted to swallow that sound, his tongue darting out to taste you. It was a feeling you had never thought could be so intoxicating. Your mind swirled with the thoughts of what else could feel so different if Alastor did it. Fear lingered in the back of your mind that not everything would feel different. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered into the kiss.

“I will do nothing that will hurt you.” Alastor assured, kissing along your jaw as he ran his hand down your side, grabbing at your skirt and pulling it higher. “I’m going to make you feel good, that’s all,” he said as he took your earlobe between his lips. “You can trust me with that, right?”

“Okay,” you gasped as his fingers caressed your bare thigh, skin that none had touched other than you and your husband in so many years. 

Grabbing your leg, he pulled it up and hooked it over his knee, pinning it between his leg and the couch. You clutched his arm, one hand resting against his chest as you laid more on your back against him. Hot breath caressed your neck as he kissed the exposed skin while he held you tightly to him. 

His thumb brushed against your panties as he caressed higher. A squeak of embarrassment spilled from your lips before you could muffle it. 

“That’s alright,” he whispered, kissing your neck just below your ear. “It’s new and you’re shy. It feels good though, doesn’t it? My hand here?” 

“Yes, Alastor,” you whimpered. 

“Is that how you answer him?” he asked, voice hard in your ear. 

“I- yes.” 

“You don’t have to answer me like that.” His lips moved against your ear, pinching softly with each word they formed. “I’m not him. I’m not goin to hurt you.” 

“Oh,” you gasped as his hand gripped your hip, under your skirt before smoothing over the soft simple fabric of your panties, feeling the curve of your mound before running his hand down, between your legs and to the place that God had given women to share only with their husbands. 

“You feeling good?” he whispered between kisses.

You gasped as his fingers ran along your clothed slit, caressing over your hidden opening in a way that felt so foreign. It felt like your body was going to overheat as his hand ran up and down your core. 

“Can I feel you?” he asked as his hand ran up your core again, over your mound. His fingers caressed the edge of your panties. “Will you let me?” 

“Will it hurt?” you whimpered, longing for the way he had caressed you and yet terrified of the desire. 

“Was that painful?” he asked instead. 

“No,” you admitted. “Felt nice.” 

You gasped Alastor’s name as his hand slipped under your panties. They felt wet as he peeled them from your heated flesh. It made no sense to you. You’d not laid with Laurence recently enough for him to be spilling from you and you were not bleeding this time of month. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Alastor murmured in approval, fingers sliding along your slick folds. 

“I don’t-” you gasped as his fingers caressed the nub at the head of your folds, unleashing a pleasure you hadn’t felt before. It was wrong to touch yourself and so you had hardly touched yourself, only quickly for cleaning. You did not know that it could provide these feelings to be touched. 

“This is how it should be,” Alastor said, fingers working over you as he catalogued every gasping breath. “Have you truly never felt this?” 

“No, I-” You tried to squirm away as he ran his fingers over your clit again and gain, “Too much,” you pleased.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he pulled his fingers from your folds, letting them rest against your mound. 

“No,” you gasped, body instantly craving the feeling of his touch. “Too much.” You said even as you tried to close your legs to get some friction somehow. 

“Do you want more?” Alastor asked, and you nodded, timidly.

His fingers slipped down along the trail of slick he had left, caressing down your slit as the pad of his finger caressed your opening. This was not for tonight, though he was confident that you would enjoy that as well. It was best to start small. His poor dear may as well be virginal for all the care and attention Laurence had provided you. 

He worked your body until your chest was heaving, a pressure building as he whispered praises and sweet words in your ear. How honored was he to give you your first orgasm, though you didn’t know what that meant until the waves crashed over you. 

When you came undone in his arms, you were ill prepared for the feeling. You twitched and shifted in his arms as the unfamiliar feeling washed over you, sending your muscles clenching and releasing as you cried out. His fingers slowed to a stop as your body relaxed, lessening the stimulation as you were left gasping against his chest. 

“What happened?” you asked, blinking your eyes as you tried to bring the room into focus. 

“You came,” Alastor said simply. “I’m honored to have been the first to bring you to completion.” 

“I thought,” heat rose in your cheeks though you struggled to feel shame in the afterglow of what happened. 

“That it was reserved for men?” Alastor chucked as he tugged your skirt down. “Hardly. A man who cares will see to it his lover sees her completion before he takes his own.” 

“That happened because you- you love me?” you asked, turning in his arms to face him as you knelt between his spread legs. 

“It happened because I know how to touch a woman,” Alastor admitted, cradling your face in the hand he had left clean of your juices. “But I did it for you because I care.” 

“Alastor, I-” You wanted to ask him why your husband never did that for you. Alastor acted as if it was normal for your body to make itself so, how did he call it, wet, but that had never happened before. Your body failed to respond that way to Laurence’s touches. 

You didn’t get to finish your question as Alastor leaned forward and kissed you softly. “That’s all for now, darling. I won’t ask for any more from you tonight.” 

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[alsofoundinpeas]

I Don't Need To Know

Summary: Spencer Reid has no choice but to watch the love of his life fall in love with another man. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Major character death. HEAVY angst. Bittersweet ending? Graphic depictions of violence (for maybe two lines). Fingering (f receiving). P in v sex/unprotected sex (in terms of a condom, birth control is mentioned). Loss of virginity (both m and f). Creampie (god I hate that word ugh!!). Slight age gap (roughly five years). Argument scene that may be triggering for readers that have experienced SA or manipulation from a partner (nothing of that nature actually happens, but just in case).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

A/N: This is inspired by Will He by Joji, so I highly recommend listening to it while reading. I cried several times while writing this, but I felt it needed to be done so here it is. :’) Please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :)

I got knots all up in my chest… Just know, I’m trying my best…

Spencer had always found the saying “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” absurd. He couldn’t fathom willingly letting go of something he loved on the off chance that it would come back to him. Not after having everything he’d ever loved ripped from his clutches throughout his lifetime. To him, love wasn’t about releasing someone to see if they’d return. It was about holding on as though his very survival depended on it—like a feral cat finally finding food after days of hunger, sinking its teeth in and never letting go, no matter the cost. 

It wasn’t until today that Spencer finally understood the meaning of that stupid phrase. And he wished with every intricate thread of his being that he didn’t. 

Five years. Five long, agonizing years had passed. So why was he here now? Why, after what felt like an eternity of pleading for just one more moment with her, did the universe decide now was the time to give him what he wanted? 

Ironically, the timing only drove home another phrase he’d always hated: “Be careful what you wish for.” 

There she was, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, sitting in the corner of what had once been their favorite café. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches on her ring, the enticing glinting of the jewelry drawing his eyes away from her face momentarily. His heart is in his throat. She’s still wearing the wedding ring he’d given her, twisting it in the same nervous fashion she always used to. 

And there across from her is a man that isn’t him making her smile. 

‘Cause when you look… When you laugh… When you smile… I’ll bring you back…

Spencer Reid had never been a particularly angry man. He had his moments—who didn’t?—but he usually considered himself level-headed, patient. But now, watching Y/N hide a bashful smile behind the rim of her mug as she gazed at the man across from her, all Spencer could feel was rage. Raw, unbridled rage. It flared up inside him as her head tipped back, the sound of her laughter crashing over him like a tidal wave, stirring his veins with a violent rush. The same sound he’d yearned to hear again for five fucking years. And it was all because of him—Ben. 

That was his girl. His perfect, beautiful girl. The love of his life. His angel. 

All Spencer could do was stand there, feeling every broken shard of his non-existent heart pierce his chest. 

And now I’m sad… And I’m a mess… And now we high… That’s why I left… That’s why I left…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Spencer had never wanted to leave her. But that choice wasn’t his to make. 

That cold, cruel September night six years ago had robbed Spencer of his very existence. 

Everything that could have gone wrong during that case did. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, but he took it anyway. He had traded his life in exchange for JJ’s. It wasn’t even meant to be heroic. It wasn’t done out of love. It was just instinct. It’s who he was as a person. 

Was. 

The word leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Because that’s his reality now. He was a person; an agent, a professor, a son, a husband…

Now he’s… well, that he didn’t quite understand. As a man of science, Spencer was stumped by what he could even call his existence now. Calling himself a ghost felt silly—he felt as alive as the day he’d died. And yet, that was essentially what he was. A whisper of the person he’d once been. A soul caught between worlds. 

Spencer could still feel the exact moment his soul wrenched free from its physical tether to the world. Even recalling it sent a shiver down his spine. It hadn’t been peaceful, as so many people claimed in interviews. No… it had been agony in its purest form; white hot and searing as his very essence clawed its way out from his ribs. There was no light waiting for him to step into it and find peace.

Instead, he had watched helplessly as the team he called his family swarmed his dead body, uselessly screaming for a medic as the crimson puddle underneath him grew and smeared beneath their hands as they knelt beside him. He had watched Y/N swing open their door that fateful night, the excited grin on her face vanishing as she came face to face with a tearful Emily instead of the husband she’d been eagerly waiting for. And he had watched the guilt eat away at JJ as their eyes met at his funeral, the hatred on Y/N’s face so raw it made Spencer’s own stomach twist. 

Despite the Bureau's insistence, she took charge of every detail—planning his funeral in a way that honored everything Spencer would have wanted. Y/N held Diana as she wept over her baby boy's body. She delivered a eulogy that left even Spencer in shambles. She was the first person to arrive and the last to leave, waiting until everyone had left to sink to her knees beside his casket and howl her grievances. 

For that first year, Y/N was as strong as she could be during the day. She handled everything that needed to be done, as long as the sun was still up. But when night fell, and the suffocating silence of their empty home settled in… that’s when she’d finally let herself break. 

Spencer had never been a religious man, but the year after his death felt like an endless descent into his own personal hell. He would never escape the sound of those gut-wrenching screams. He cursed whatever force had condemned him to an eternity where he could do nothing but watch, powerless as Y/N crumpled to the floor night after night, her wails so desperate it seemed as though she thought breaking the sound barrier might somehow bring him back to life. 

All he could do was stay beside her, silently pleading for his touch to somehow reach her, his hands brushing over her again and again, unnoticed and unfelt. 

Time was no longer a concept to Spencer. 

The limits of his existence perplexed him. He couldn’t roam freely, couldn’t go where he pleased—he could only follow where Y/N went. It was as if his very soul was bound to hers, linked by some invisible string that kept him tied to her even in death. It brought him both joy and sorrow: joy in the fact that he could still watch her, still admire the way she carried on, and sorrow because she would never know he was there, silently urging her forward, so incredibly proud of her strength. 

The longer he lingered, the more control he gained over his abilities. It started with the smallest things—a strand of hair lifting with the brush of his fingers, a faint chill against her skin as he cradled her face while she slept. But soon, it became more. Doors creaked open as he stepped into rooms behind her, and objects shifted ever so slightly from their places when he pushed with just enough force. 

There were times when she seemed to sense him—moments Spencer cherished more than anything. In those fleeting instances, it felt as though she could see him, even though he knew she couldn’t. Every day, rain or shine, she visited his grave, and when she spoke to him, her gaze would drift forward, as if she were looking into the honey-colored eyes she once loved. Her hands would rest open in her lap, as though she knew he was holding them. When she was home, she’d speak aloud every thought that came to mind, as though she knew he could hear every word that fell from her perfect lips. And he always responded as if she could hear him in return. That was their new life for the first year after his death. 

After a year and one day, he was gone. 

That’s where his understanding of the phrase “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” came from. It was because she had set him free. 

One whole year had passed. The hardest year of Y/N’s life. She had knelt by his grave, laying fresh flowers with trembling hands, her tears falling freely for hours. When she finally stood to leave, her legs unsteady beneath her, she pressed a soft kiss to his headstone. Through her tears, she whispered how much she missed him, how he never left her thoughts, and how she’d never stop loving him—but above all, she wished he could be at peace. And on the night following the anniversary of his passing, her wish was granted. He had faded into nothingness, existing only in her dreams and memories for five long years. 

But now, he was back. Because he had always been hers. 

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips? Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips? 

Spencer remembered their first time like it was yesterday, though he wasn’t sure if he could thank his eidetic memory or the fact that it was because of how remarkable it had been for the memory lingering so vividly...

“You’re lying! You’ve really never had sex before?” 

Y/N squawked the words incredulously as she sat atop Spencer’s lap, grinning down at the stammering mess of a man beneath her. Spencer’s hands flexed against her hips, unintentionally squeezing as he took a deep breath to calm himself. 

They were inside Spencer’s apartment, having enjoyed the museum and dinner but still craving each other’s company too badly to end the night there. What started as sweet, innocent pecks pressed up against the kitchen counter had quickly devolved into ravenous, passionate kisses that had them stumbling towards the couch. It was going so well… until Spencer panicked after Y/N had whispered into his ear asking how far he wanted things to go. 

That resulted in him spewing out the fact that he, at twenty-six years old, was a virgin.

“No, I haven’t! Why is that so hard to believe?” Spencer huffs, his small smile belying his annoyed tone. 

It was their sixth date total in a span of four months, but it was their first date as an actual couple. Spencer had reluctantly agreed to let Penelope set him up on a blind date after his failed attempt at taking JJ out had shattered any of the confidence he’d built up, leaving the man petrified of taking his chances romantically again. He suspected Penelope’s pity for him was why she was setting up said date to begin with, but he quickly found himself grateful that he went. 

Y/N had been friends with Penelope for years, having bonded online over some indie punk rock band that was no longer around and developing a close friendship from there despite their age difference. When Penelope found out Y/N had moved to Virginia and was single, she couldn’t resist setting the two up. 

It’s Y/N’s turn to stammer as she quickly thinks of a response. “I, uh… you’re just so handsome that I naturally assumed you’d had sex before.” 

Spencer blinks up at her skeptically, trying to detect even the faintest clue that the otherworldly woman in his lap was lying to him. All he found was nervous adoration as she stared back down at him, her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. It suited her. He wanted to cause it more often. 

“I had, um… I graduated super early from both high school and college, so I didn’t do much dating.” 

Instead of the judgment Spencer expected to see spread across her face, Y/N simply just hummed in understanding, her eyes curious as they watched him. He’d elaborate more on his unfortunate (for lack of a better term) adolescence later. For now, he just wanted to keep from scaring the poor girl off of his lap so he could taste her sweet chapstick again. 

“I see…” Y/N murmurs before continuing, shifting forward slightly with a smirk. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m also a virgin.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened almost comically as he gawked up at her. His heart stutters in his chest, his mouth going dry. His tongue pokes out in a meek attempt at wetting his lips, his voice cracking as he responds. 

“Et tu, Y/N?” 

Oh fuck. Spencer hadn’t meant to let the lame reference slip from his mouth. She just made him so nervous that he couldn’t think straight, and Rome had been heavily on his mind since she had perched herself in his lap. Specifically Roman goddesses, because she looked like she should be amongst them on their thrones. Surely she was going to leave now—-

Loud, genuine laughter bubbles from Y/N’s lips, the noise startling Spencer as she tips her head back and her hands grip his shoulders to stabilize herself. She thought it was funny. She thought he was funny. 

“That’s, like, the last thing I expected you to say,” Y/N managed once her laughter had simmered down into giggles. “But, to answer your question… I too have really never had sex before.” 

Spencer knew that it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. The woman was sex personified; the archetype of beauty and seduction wrapped into one perfect being. The twitching in his pants brought his attention back to the situation at hand. He could ask her later why that was. For now, he brought his focus back to her. 

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Spencer tilted his head up to brush their noses together. “Would you… would you want to?” 

It didn’t take a profiler to notice the hitch in her breath or the almost imperceptible squeezing of her thighs around his hips. Her pupils were already blown, her lower lip trembling from what Spencer prayed was anticipation and not regret as his question settled over her. The silence stretched between them, the seconds feeling like hours in Spencer’s overly anxious mind. 

He’d done it now. He’d gone off and opened his stupid mouth and frightened the one woman he could actually see himself having a future with because the head straining against his zipper overruled the head housing his supposed genius level IQ. The apologies were already forming in the back of his throat, but they weren’t needed because she— she was kissing him? 

“God, yes. Please,” Y/N murmured eagerly against his lips, effectively clearing every cohesive thought from his brain. 

If Spencer thought her words were enough to bring upon his undoing, he was sorely mistaken. The grinding of her hips against his erection ignited something inside of him that he had no idea existed. It was feral, drowning out all of his other emotions and replacing them with one thing: primal, unfiltered desire. 

Spencer understood now why men used to start wars over women. 

With each gasp that fell upon his ears, Spencer pledged his allegiance to her. Every stuttered moan that came into existence from his hips rutting up into her clothed core fueled his devotion to her. It was animalistic, the way his hands gripped her ass and pulled her tighter against his body as his mouth devoured her now, every cell swimming through his veins screaming for more. More of her touch, more of her taste, more of her sounds... God, those heavenly sounds that had Spencer finally believing in salvation, if only in the form of her skin against his.  

Tongues danced together as layers were hastily stripped away. Layers of insecurity. Layers of self-doubt. Layers of uncertainty. Their clothes fell to the ground as though the fabric burned them, clumsy hands fidgeting with buttons and tugging at zippers with a vendetta. 

Those layers that had crumbled so easily were replaced instead with the firm knowledge that this was exactly where they were meant to be: in each other’s arms, trembling and panting as their world’s trajectory tilted so violently it uprooted them from their upright position, knocking them down against the leather cushions as their bodies attempted to mend their separated souls back into one. 

Spencer choked on the words he wanted to worship her with, so instead he used the most primitive sense he could to get his message across: touch. His lips sucked purpling reminders into the crook of her neck of what they both knew to be true now: He is hers just as much as she is his. Lithe fingers tugged the soaked fabric of her lace panties down until they landed in a heap with their other clothes. Those same fingers pause at the crest of her most intimate spot, his eyes meeting hers with a silent plea. 

Y/N found herself in the same position, her words failing her as they were strangled in her throat by the overwhelming adoration she felt for the man hovering above her. Instead of chanting her desire for Spencer to please touch her, she canted her hips up in approval. 

Her moans were swallowed by swollen lips that claimed the sound straight from her body as nimble fingers dug themselves into the deepest parts of her. Their rhythm was clumsy but steadfast, her hips bucking against his hand in jerky movements as the palm of his hand pressed against her clit. Spencer’s own hips ground against the bare skin of her thigh, shielded only by the immature fabric of his equation-covered boxers. 

Spencer hadn’t for a second thought the night was going to go like this. If he had known he’d have the definition of art itself clawing at his shoulders and panting into his mouth while he made her legs tremble beneath him, he wouldn’t have worn what he deemed his lucky boxers. At least they had done their job, he supposed. 

Their lips separated completely as a guttural moan wrenched its way from Y/N’s throat, her body beginning to thrash wildly underneath him as the tension in her lower belly coiled tighter. Spencer wouldn’t allow her first time to happen on his couch. She was much too precious for that. But he’d already made the decision to unravel her at least once while they were there, to bring her over the edge before taking her into his bedroom so that he could experience the glorious sight of her falling apart more than once tonight. 

Spencer was a virgin, not a prude. He’d seen porn before. He’d read erotic novels. Anything he could use to try to prepare himself for the real experience, he did. But nothing could have prepared him for the downright visceral reaction Y/N had as his fingers curled and brushed against the rough patch of skin inside of her that caused the tension building in her body to snap. Her cries of pleasure tore through him as her pussy clenched around his fingers, his free hand leaving its place beside her head to keep her thighs pried open. He quickly shifted up onto his knees to watch her taking his fingers as she came, taking the pleasure he inflicted upon her. 

He sang her praises while slowing his pace, cooing softly at her as he stroked her hair and worked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Only when she was squirming and whining beneath him did he finally remove his fingers, sucking them into his mouth greedily. Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her chest heaved, her eyes locked on Spencer as his tongue lapped over his fingers, enjoying her essence with a groan. Her body sagged into the couch, a delighted laugh spilling from her exhausted frame as she smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling in the dim light of his living room. 

“Do you still want to keep going?” Spencer breathed as he gazed down at her, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of something that made Y/N's heart flutter. “B-because we can stop there if you want. I just… I want to do what makes you happy.” 

Above her was the man she’d recognized, soft and timid, but now with a newfound air of confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Above her was the man that she wanted more than anything. Above her was the man that she knew, without a shadow of doubt, would be her husband. 

“Spencer… if you don’t fuck me right now, then I’ll die a virgin, right here on your couch... and it will be all your fault.” 

Spencer’s hearty chuckles filled the room, his nose twitching as he grinned down at the dramatic woman. He simply couldn’t let that be her fate, could he? 

Shaking his head, he stooped down to press a gentle kiss to her nose before standing from the couch, offering her his (clean) hand. Y/N’s face twisted in confusion as she stared up at him, still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm surprisingly given to her by the same man who’d eagerly rambled about the lore behind Doctor Who on their first date when she’d mentioned she hadn’t seen it. 

“Not here, silly girl. The bedroom,” He whispered. 

He guided her down the dark hallway as though he were escorting the most priceless treasure known to man to his bed, and in his eyes, he was. His hand stayed steady on her hip as she swayed lightly, her body pressed into his side as he opened the door with shaky hands. Any confidence Spencer had managed to muster throughout the night vanished as they crossed the threshold into his bedroom, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip gently as his courage began to crack. 

In an almost startling display of being seen, something Spencer had never experienced before, Y/N looped her arms around his neck and tugged him into a kiss that simultaneously stole the breath from his lungs and filled him with the air he needed to breathe again, effectively calming his nerves.

“It’s okay,” She reassured him against his lips. “It’s just me.” 

She walked them backward until the backs of her knees pressed into his cool comforter, taking over where Spencer so willingly handed her the reigns while he regained his momentum. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands pressed into his hips to keep him from following after her. Her eyes met his, the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window illuminating her as though she were a vision, a figment of his imagination that he’d conjured up in the dead of night, ready to haunt his every waking moment once he inevitably woke up to an empty bed. She was too good to be true. 

Spencer’s hands fell to rest on her shoulders, just to give himself proof that Y/N was real and that he hadn’t dreamed her up or somehow followed in his mother’s footsteps and succumbed to early onset schizophrenia. 

She was real and she was here, eye level with the tent in his boxers and naked as the day she was born, her warm breath fanning across the smattering of hair trailing down from his belly button to below his underwear. His muscles tensed and twitched as she smirked up at him, pressing a tender kiss to the head of his cock through the thin fabric. His entire body flinched from that one touch, his brows furrowing together as he hissed quietly. 

“N-not that I wouldn’t love to feel your mouth on me—“ Spencer’s pitch raised as her hands found the elastic of his waistband, pulling his boxers down his legs. “But I… I won’t last if you do.” 

The fondness in her eyes quelled any humiliation he felt from having uttered those words. 

Placing a kiss to his hip, she nodded in understanding before shuffling backwards to lay in the middle of his bed, with him kneeling onto the mattress after her. The sight of her— stretched out and languid and looking at him as if she wanted to ravage him— had him sending up a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever in the universe had deemed him worthy enough of having this divine of a woman in his life. 

As Spencer reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom, Y/N stammers, grabbing his attention. He watches for a moment as she flounders over her words, his brow furrowing in concern at her sudden diffidence. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“I’m on birth control if you want to skip the condom!” 

Spencer inhales sharply at the same time she smiles sheepishly up at him, her blurted words almost making him finish before they’d even started. He holds her gaze, tracing her irises for any hint of hesitancy. When he finds none, he nods once, swallowing hard. 

“I— uh. Um...” 

It was rare that Spencer Reid was rendered speechless, but Y/N had managed to do it with just eleven words. He clears his throat, trying again. 

“Yes. Yes, I would like to skip the condom. Only if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.” 

“Yes. It is. I pinky promise.” 

Y/N holds up her pinky for him, the sight so endearing he can practically feel his heart melt away, dripping in a sticky mess inside him. He just grins, linking his pinky with hers before he moves to settle over her once more. 

Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair as his elbows dig into the mattress beside her ribs. The flushed head of his cock bumps against her clit as he reaches down to line himself up at her entrance, a small whine leaving her lips at the sensation. He repeats the action, dizzy from the sound of her soft noises. She was still soaked from their time on the couch, a small feeling of pride welling in Spencer’s chest at the knowledge that not only did he make her cum, but he’d kept her wet while they made it here. 

His lips meet hers in a searing kiss, the both of them quivering with anticipation at giving themselves so intimately to someone for the first time. He was happy it was her. And she was happy it was him. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time where his mind had ever been quiet. All he knew was incessant thoughts and worries, unable to put a halt to the chaos jumbling around his brain. But as he pressed forward and sunk into Y/N for the first time, his entire mind went blank. White static crowded the spaces where various facts and tidbits of information had been stored, the only thing he was able to focus on now being the sheer ecstasy coursing through his body from being inside of her. 

His mouth hung open as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips stilling as they pressed flush against hers. She mirrored his response, squeaking out an “oh!” as her walls fluttered around the intrusion instinctively. He throbbed in response, his head dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the pitiful whimper that escaped from behind clenched teeth. 

She was so tight. So wet. So warm. 

Sparks of pleasure zinged up and down his spine as he remained still, waiting patiently for Y/N to adjust to both his size and to the feeling of being filled for the first time in general. He’d wait as long as she needed him to. All he wanted was for her to feel good. To enjoy this as much as he was. 

He was a humble man, truly. But even he wasn’t too shy to admit he’d been gifted with a size that was bigger than average. Not necessarily just in length, falling just shy of seven inches, but in girth as well.  

Spencer peppered soft kisses up and down her flushed skin, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his lips. He was sure she could feel his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs from where their bare chests were pressed together. Her nipples were taut, pressing into his skin enticingly. He wanted to touch them. Taste them. But he’d wait until she was ready. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

At her gentle nod, Spencer lifted his head to press his forehead against hers, their lips brushing together as he pulls his hips back. The sensation of her grip tightening in his hair as he pushed forward does more to him than he’d care to admit, but he still lets her hear just how affected he is by her. With a shaky moan, Spencer repeats the motion, easing out of her before gently rocking back into her. He keeps this up for a few minutes, her sharp breaths dissolving into muted moans of her own. 

“You can— you can move faster if y-you want.” 

Spencer’s eyes flutter shut at her words, and he’s pressing a fervent kiss to her lips before he begins to really move. The sound of skin smacking together begins to fill the air as he ruts his hips into hers, his walls bearing witness to every pleasured noise that spills between them. His pace is frenzied, his rhythm stuttered, but it feels so good that neither of them really care. 

Y/N’s nails roamed his body now, alternating between dragging harsh lines into the planes of his back and burying into his shoulders to leave little tender half moons in their wake. Spencer yearned to pull every single noise that he could from her throat, planting his hands beside her head and hefting himself up for better leverage before his lips wrapped around her right nipple. He sucks harshly at the pert bud, reveling in the desperate whimper it causes. 

Spencer grunts when she clenches around him, letting his mouth glide over to her neglected breast, his hips hammering into hers now as she cries out his name over and over. He was close… so, so close. But he needed to make her cum one more time before he’d allow himself to. He needed to know what it felt like for her to fall apart around his cock. With every ounce of willpower he had, Spencer slows his hips to a stop inside of her. 

Y/N whined her discontent at his sudden pause, her eyes opening to blink hazily up at him. “Why’d you… why’d you stop?” She panted, her fingers finding and twisting her own nipples as if she couldn’t help but to touch herself. 

Spencer muffled a curse at the sight, sitting back on his haunches as he stared down at the woman beneath him with reverence. 

“Flip onto your stomach for me, angel.”

She does as instructed, wiggling her hips coyly as Spencer grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and stuffs it underneath her hips to prop her up better, ensuring she’d be comfortable. Once she’s settled on her front, Spencer wasted no time in pressing himself back into her, both of them releasing a moan so loud he’s surprised the walls don’t shake. Thank God he didn’t have neighbors right now. 

He eased himself down so his chest is pressed to her back, lavishing her neck and shoulder in open mouthed kisses while his hips drilled into her. This angle was deeper, allowing him to plow directly into her g-spot as she writhed and begged incoherently beneath him. He laced his left hand with hers, shoving them into his mattress. His other hand stuffed itself between the pillow and her wriggling body until the pads of his fingers found her clit, his breath coming out in sharp pants into her ear. 

Y/N felt delirious with pleasure, bucking her hips back in a feeble attempt to meet his. He began whispering into her ear about how good she felt around him, thanking her for allowing him to fuck her, praising her for taking him so well… 

His words paired with his fingers circling her clit have her second orgasm ripping through her body with so much ferocity that tears begin to fall down her cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut and her hand clutching his so tightly her knuckles whitened as she wailed into a pillow, gushing around him. 

Spencer let out his own guttural moan at the feeling, spilling into her with a shout as he planted his head between her shoulder blades, his hips weakly thrusting into her as they rode out their climaxes. 

He held her until her tremors stopped. He kissed her forehead before he darted off to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean her with. He thanked her in soft whispers as her eyes began to drift shut before he’d even finished cleaning his mess between her thighs. 

And he knew, watching the gorgeous woman before him sleep so soundly in his bed after they’d just defiled each other’s innocence, that he was looking at his future wife. 

Will your lover caress you the way that I did? Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit? 

The air was thick with tension as Y/N stared at Ben, her chest heaving and eyes watering at the hurt look on his face. Spencer watched from the corner, his concern for his wife outweighing the jealousy he had previously felt when he watched the couple slip into her— though he still selfishly thought of it as their— bed. Y/N had been dating Ben for three months now. That made for three months that Spencer ached so heavily he’d sometimes wish he could fade back into nothingness if it meant he didn’t have to watch the love of his life with another man. 

The furthest Ben and Y/N had gone physically was a few pecks here and there, with Y/N always being the one to draw away and cut the kisses short. Ben had played the nice guy act, reassuring her that he understood her hesitance and that he’d be okay doing whatever she was comfortable with. Spencer despised him. He could see right through Ben’s facade, and if he could do more than nudge a door open, he’d make that hatred known. But he couldn’t. 

Spencer watched on with furrowed brows as Y/N reached a shaky hand over and turned the lamp on her nightstand on, illuminating the dark room in a soft glow that contrasted with the dark energy that began to cloud the small space. Spencer could see it all on Ben’s face: hurt, betrayal, anger. He could see the fear, guilt, and shame on Y/N’s. 

This was the first night Y/N had tried to push past her discomfort so that she could offer Ben more than just false promises of physical intimacy. It started slow, with soft kisses that dissolved into hungrier ones as they laid together in the dark. But the second Ben went to roll on top of her, sliding a hand down her body to pull her hips against his, she panicked. Her body jolted, and her hands had shot out instinctively to shove him off of her, leaving them where they were now in some sort of silent standoff. 

Spencer knew as soon as it had happened just why it did. She had thought of him. His guilt overruled the smug pleasure he’d felt as he watched it unfold. As painful as it had been watching Y/N move on with her life, all he ultimately wanted was for her to be happy. Spencer had been barely thirty-five when he passed, and she had only been thirty. That left almost an entire lifetime ahead for her, and even though he so desperately wanted to have lived that lifetime with her, he had to accept that that wasn’t what fate had in store for them. 

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened at the same time Y/N’s dropped. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N leveled Ben with a narrowed glare, rage flashing in her eyes in place of the shame that had just been there. 

“I get that you have a dead husband. I’ve tried to be patient with you. But fuck! It's been six years, Y/N. It’s time for you to move on,” Ben seethes, his face reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I can’t even touch you without you flinging me off of you!” 

It’s as though Y/N is the exact physical embodiment of Spencer’s own emotions, physically reacting in the way that he can’t. She was out of the bed before Spencer could even blink, marching over to the bedroom door and yanking it open. Ben watches in bewilderment, his mind clearly not catching up with what was happening. 

“Get out of my fucking house.” 

Y/N’s voice is cold as she stares menacingly at Ben. When he doesn’t move, she speaks again, her voice louder. “Get out of my fucking house, Ben!” 

Ben stammers, standing from the bed and attempting to plead his case. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just-”

“I don’t care. Get out of my house,” Y/N repeats herself, cutting off his pathetic excuses. 

Spencer smirks proudly from beside her.

 That’s his girl. 

Ben sighs, hanging his head and scrubbing his hands frustratedly across his face. 

“If you kick me out over some guy that’s been dead for six years, then we’re over. For good.” 

Spencer cackles at Ben’s proposition, though it can’t be heard by either party in the room. That was his attempt at fixing things? Seriously? Good riddance. He’d drag the guy out of there himself if he could. 

“If I haven’t made myself clear, we’re already over. No one talks about my husband like that. Now get out before I call the police and have you escorted off of my property.” 

It doesn’t take long after that for Ben to tuck his tail and leave, slamming the front door on his way out. Y/N’s steam runs out the second his car pulls out of her driveway, tears streaming down her face as she curls up on her couch. 

Spencer’s own chest twinges uncomfortably as he sits beside her, stroking her hair despite her inability to actually receive the comfort. He didn’t know what hurt more; watching his beautiful, broken girl sob and not being able to stop her tears, or being the cause of the tears himself. He had to do something, anything to let her know he was still there and that he still loved her beyond death. 

The same time Spencer stands is the same time Y/N’s tears pause, a hiccup rocking her frame before she glances up. 

“Spence?” Y/N calls softly. Spencer’s heart would have stopped right there had he not already been dead.

Spencer turns slowly from his place at the end of the couch, his eyes wide and hopeful as he responds. “Yes, angel?” 

His hope fades as he realizes she isn’t looking at him, rather her eyes are just darting around the room. 

“Spencer I… I know it’s been awhile since I’ve talked to you. And for that, I’m so sorry,” Y/N starts, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if you can even hear me. Or if you ever could. But I miss you. I miss you in my bones. I just… you were— are my everything.” 

The lump in her throat grows as the tears begin to stream down her face again. Spencer’s own eyes sting with tears that she’ll never see drip down his face. He swallows hard, making his way over to their— yes, their— bookshelf. 

“I’d give anything to have you back in my arms… I should have begged you to leave the BAU and just teach full-time if it meant I could still have you here, safe and at home. It’s not even a home without you.” 

Y/N sobs freely now, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before she buries her head into them. 

Every ounce of grief, guilt, sadness, and anger from what his death has done to his precious girl fuels Spencer to do something he deemed impossible: he yanks the leatherbound notebook holding their vows inside of it off of the bookshelf, sending it tumbling to the ground in a desperate attempt to show her that he’s still there and that he still loves her. 

The noise causes a yelp to slip from Y/N’s lips, her head jerking up as the book hits the hardwood floor with a loud thump. It had fallen open exactly to where Spencer wanted it to: the page starting his vows to her.  Y/N crawls from the couch to the book, her trembling hands lifting the journal so that she can read the words her husband wrote to her ten years ago. With a deep exhale, she sits cross-legged on the hardwood floor, reading Spencer’s chicken scratch he called handwriting with a heavy heart. And for the first time since his casket closed, she feels a sense of peace wash over her. She was going to be okay, despite it all, because he was hers just as much as she was his.

Continued A/N: Ahh!! Ghost!Spencer my beloved. :') JUST TO CLARIFY: I am not a JJ hater!! It just fit better for the story to have her be the one this all happened for. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this fic just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I look forward to sharing more in the future with you as my blog grows <3

K <3

[rocknrollbabe14]

Forbidden Fruit (Emperor Geta X Reader)

Part I

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Nudity, teasing, fingering, slight degrading.

Thanks to @josephs-quinns for my header! Love you!

You didn’t come from a wealthy family. It was quite the opposite actually. But your parents needed this and for some reason, the emperor had caught you out as one of the women he wanted to meet to potentially become his wife. Caracalla. Emperor Caracalla was the eldest son of Emperor Septimius Severus. Caracalla and his father were part of the Severan dynasty.  There was a lot of talk about him, his brother Geta, and his father amongst the empire. People had to be careful how they spoke of them, however. But it was Caracalla’s father and mother that were finding it important for their sons to find wives and begin a family. You were sure he could have cared less—he could sleep with any woman he wanted.

He and his brother was in a position of power and authority, two of the most important things this day and age. Any woman in their right mind would not turn down either Emperor. Part of you was hoping he’d choose you—for your family’s sake. They’d be highly favored if the emperor chose you. But you wouldn’t return to your normal life. You’d instantly be taken in by the family, beginning preparations to make you his wife. It was all overwhelming to think about. 

You knew that there would be women lined up for a chance to court and marry Emperor Caracalla. He had been co-augustus with his brother now for some time, getting the real taste of what it was like to rule. His true colors would show through soon enough, they always did. Every ruler, every time. It never failed. He had a huge weight on his shoulders.

One could only imagine the weight he had on his shoulders. It was something you couldn’t imagine—learning the ropes so that one day you could take over the empire from under your father. His life was royalty, but you were sure it probably wasn’t easy. There were standards he had to live up to and achieve. That would be hard in itself, having such an expectation to live up to. You shook your head lightly just thinking about it. 

The journey to get to Caracalla was going to be a long one, one that you weren’t sure you were mentally prepared to endure. As bad as you hated to admit it, part of it felt like a death sentence—a march to your uncertain and untimely death. Maybe that was being a little dramatic. But your life as you knew it was over, wasn’t it? Life would never be the same if he chose you as his partner. This would be a huge undertaking.

Part of you was content that your mother had agreed to take this journey with you. It was comforting to have her near, a familiar faucet in this unfamiliar setting. If Caracalla chose you, the wedding would be extravagant and grand. It would be something you could only dream about, something so far out of your reach. But was it now? That was to be determined. 

Each one of you had to introduce yourselves to him and bow before him. He and his brother were on the throne together, picking over each one of you. When it got to you, you thought you might forget your name that your stomach was flipping so hard. But somehow, you had made it. Geta even had eyes on you, narrowing them as he bit his lip and fiddling with his rings subconsciously. 

Geta looked over at Caracalla before turning back to you. He said something and then chuckled but it was inaudible. It made you nervous. But somehow, something must have went right. You were still here and still in the running to be Caracalla’s wife. They had narrowed it down to just a few of you. There were also just a few for Geta. But he seemed as if he could care less. It was a hot night during summer and you couldn’t sleep. 

You probably shouldn’t have went off by yourself but you were trying to get some fresh air. The imperial palace had many twists and turns and you started to feel like you had just been going in circles. There was a soft sound like water running, peaking your curiosity. It had to be outside, right? Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and opened the door. There was steam and the sound of water splashing. You looked around, trying to find something—anything. 

You saw some clean fabric lying off to the side. 

“Lost?”, a voice echoed against the water. 

You looked up, horror across your face. You were met with the dark eyes of Geta. He was naked, the glisten of water reflecting with barely any soap on his body. 

“Um—I’m so sorry—

“Are you?”

“I am.”, you stammered quickly, grasping at your night clothes. 

He chuckled lightly, making no attempt to cover himself. “Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to see your future husband’s brother naked?”

“I—”

“Aw, can you form a full sentence, love?”

He was taunting you. He knew you were flustered, it was all over your face.  You began to think what a jerk he was. 

“I didn’t mean to—I promise.”

Geta chuckled again and you felt your eyes go south, immediately taking the view in.  He was huge and your brain tried to process how that would even fit inside you—you mean Caracalla’s—if it looked anything like his. You bit your lip subconsciously. You had never seen a man naked before. Part of it made you feel pathetic. 

“Are you sure?”, he smirked, the smile twisting up into his cheeks, becoming more sinister.

“I am—I just wanted fresh air. That’s all.”

He smiled to himself, continuing his bath. “Hm. You know—are you sure you want to marry my brother?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean—I.”

“What has you so flustered? Never saw the male anatomy before?”

“No.”, you admitted easily, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, feeling your cheeks heating up.  

Geta smirked to himself before looking up at you. You couldn’t help but watch as he took his hands over his body as if he was tempting you, showing himself off. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, love.”

“What do you mean?”

He smirked, his lips twisting in a crooked smile. “I mean—you can get acquainted.”

“W-when?”

“Now.”

“Now? I’m sorry I don’t see your brother around—”

“Not with my brother—with me.”, he corrected. 

You heard water dripping, him wringing the cloth out in his hands. His curls were dripping with water, the water beginning to cascade down his back and chest. You felt yourself swallow hard, getting distracted by the sight. He noticed, beginning to chuckle to himself. 

“I bet you’ve never even had a man appreciate your body, have you?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. You couldn’t even make eye contact with him, beginning to wringing his hands. “No.”

Your response was meek, even making you feel weak. 

He scoffed to himself lightly. “I thought so. Well, you can come over here—I don’t bite, you know—unless you want me to.”, he laughed.

Your lip curved, unsure if you should take his advice. Your entire body felt like it was shaking and you barely had the ability to move your legs, putting one in front of the other. His golden brown eyes were fixed on you as you walked towards him. He watched you swallow hard before he reached his hand out to take yours. 

“Don’t slip and fall.”, he began. “We need to first—get you out of these clothes.”

“We do?”

“We do.”, he confirmed, beginning to touch the soft cotton fabric on your shoulder. 

Considering it was hot and summertime, you were wearing a thinner gown to sleep in. It was nicer than anything you had at home, if you were being honest. Your mother and father had did their best to give you a good life but this was your chance to make theirs better. Would this one night screw that up? 

His voice was barely above a whisper as he began to carefully undo your grown, sliding the fabric off your shoulders. His fingers sent chills over your entire body as one hand gripped your shoulders and the other helped the fabric slide down until you knew your cleavage was revealed and soon your breasts would be. He noticed your breathing hitch and he stopped, his brown eyes focused on you. 

“Relax.”

You nodded, swallowing again. 

His eyes panned back down to your body, the gown sliding down almost like a curtain falling down. The soft summer breeze was blowing through, only causing the chills to intensify. You felt your nipples harden and wondered if he noticed. But he did. You were left completely naked in front of him. Little did you know, but to him, you looked like one of the sculptures. Perfect in every way. 

“Look at you.”, he cooed as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to force you to make eye contact with him. 

“So beautiful.”

“You’re giving compliments?”

“Only to you.”

“I’m not even in the running to be your wife.”

He chuckled. “Just try and relax. Let’s get you cleaned up a little.”

You watched as he grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the bath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you braced yourself for the touch, the sensation of the cool washcloth. He heard your sharp inhale as he took the washcloth over your skin, starting at the top of your collarbone. Even if it was a warm night, the water was cool. He was careful when he was washing you, something you were surprised he even knew how to do.

“How do you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking how you’re feeling—about all this.”, Geta responded, as if nothing was pressuring him or bothering him.

It was nice that he wasn’t stressed in this situation.

“I’m—fine.”, you finally managed to get out as he moved down your arms. 

His strokes with the washcloth was soft and sensual. He knew what he was doing. 

“Are you?”

Your eyes finally opened to meet his. His eyes were fixed on you, watching you for every reaction as he moved the cloth. 

“Yes.”

“You seem nervous, love.”

“I’m no-not.”, you gulped.

He shifted his shoulders slightly, having stood in one position for too long, 

‘

“You are.”

“I mean—I’ve just never been with a man before—like this.”

“We’re going to learn a lot.”, Geta smiled, his perfect teeth shining. “You just need to relax and let me take care of things.”

“Have you been with women before?”, you blurted out.

Geta gave a hearty laugh. “Oh, love—I’ve been with many.”

You felt a pang in your chest and it was against better judgement. Why were you feeling this way about a man who didn’t feel this way about you? Deep down inside, you knew this was only about sex. Your mom had taught you very little about sex and how the human anatomy worked. All you knew was once a man and woman were married, they’d usually consummate their marriage and end up with a baby. How all that process worked, well—you weren’t sure. 

“I see.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy you, darling.”, Geta smirked, tilting your chin up in order to force eye contact with him.

  You felt weak in this moment. He had power over you and he knew it.

You swallowed hard again. “How do—do you know?”

“Because you’re a virgin, aren’t you? No one’s ever taken a bite from that sweet apple. Have they darling?”

Your stomach twisted and curved in knots. You had never felt this feeling before and you were trying to wrap your head around it. 

“No.”

“Mhm and to think you’re going to let me have that first bite.”, he nuzzled his nose into your neck before kissing it softly.

Maybe there was a side to him that he wasn’t letting others see. 

“And who says I’m going to let you have it?”

You felt his lips pull away from your neck, finding him looking you dead in the eyes, his brows furrowing and eyes narrowing.

“You’d deny one of your emperors?”

That was the look a lot of Rome had saw too much. When Geta gave this look, heads usually rolled. In this moment, you could see ruthless ruler. 

“No—your majesty.”

His face relaxed slightly as he realized he was making you nervous.

“Very well.”

You held your breath waiting for what he would do next. You closed your eyes briefly as his hands slid down your waist and stomach. You heard water splashing lightly before his thick, broad hands found their way on your thighs. His cold rings sending chills across your delicate skin. 

Your eyes popped open. “What—what are you doing?”

“Just admiring you. Wouldn’t hurt for me to feel how tight and wound up you are for me, would it?”

Your stomach twisted into knots. 

“And how-how would you do that?”

Geta smirked up at you. “Just trust me.”

“Your majesty, please.”

“Spread your legs for me.”

With a thick sigh, you did as he requested. Who were you to argue with the emperor? You were glad he was holding your thighs or else you felt like your legs might give out. You felt his thick fingers trail up the inner side of your thigh right above your cunt. His fingers teased the outside of it.

“You’re already drenched, love.”

He heard another thick sigh escape your lips as you closed your eyes shut, almost as tight as they’d go. 

“It isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, love.”

You sighed again. “I know—I just feel like we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

Geta paused, his fingers barely creeped up before entering your cunt causing you to lose your breath.

“I don’t-I’m not sure.”

He had rendered you senseless. You couldn’t even finish a complete sentence. A devilish smile curved across his lips as he continued to work his ringed fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots. You bit your lip, trying to hold back any sounds but you weren’t even sure if someone could hear you out here. 

“Don’t hold back.”, he commanded as he felt you almost go limp in his arms. 

“Can—anyone—hear?”, you asked, breathless.

“No.”

That made you feel slightly more at ease. It didn’t take anything else to make you feel comfortable with him. At first, it was soft moans escaping your mouth. But as he kept pushing his fingers deeper inside you, rings brushing your walls, you began to lose yourself. Your eyes began rolling back in your head and he was barely doing anything to you.

He noticed when your moans picked up, becoming louder. 

“Like that?”

You nodded.

“I need words.”

“Y-yes.”, you managed to choke out.

His finger stroked longer and slower, drawing it out.

“Think my brother could do this for you?”

Your eyes opened, looking at him. He had clearly got your attention.

“The answer is no. My brother has never been with a woman before, if I’m being honest.”

He was cocky but you were beginning to love that quality about Geta. Caracalla seemed to walk more in Geta’s shadows or at least that’s how it appeared. No one dared to say it out loud. There was speculation that there was a lot of tension between the two brothers. Geta seemed so sure of himself and that was another reason he was so convincing. 

Before you could speak, his fingers slid deeper inside you, causing your stomach to twist and turn. He was hitting the spot that made you forget your name. All of this was new to you as you had never ever been with a man. 

“Found the spot, didn’t I?”

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. 

“Just wait until I put my cock inside you.”

Your eyes widened. He didn’t stop moving his fingers inside you which caused the heat in your stomach to build. 

“That’s right, I want to fuck you and make you mine.”, he confirmed. 

“What?”

“What did you think this was all for?”

“And how would—we explain that to your brother?”, you managed to get out in-between moans. 

“I’ll take care of that.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was intensifying, ready to come to a boiling point. He noticed it too and knew what was coming. He smiled again, his brown eyes watching you—waiting for you to release. It would be instant gratification for him. And he couldn’t wait. He watched with a hellish grin as your back arched and you let out the loudest moan you had all night long and he felt you tighten around his fingers.

He chuckled lightly and he felt you all over his fingers. You looked up at him, confused as to what had just occurred. 

“What—?”

“You came, darling. All over my fingers.”, he smirked as he slowly eased his fingers out of your cunt, causing you to gasp at the loss of contact. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, spreading them apart and admiring your juices on his fingers. Before you could speak, he inserted his fingers in his mouth and closed his eyes, reveling in the taste of you.

“You’re finer than anything Rome has to offer.”, he breathed. 

“I am?”

“Yes, you are, darling and now what if we go to my room and you let me take what’s rightfully mine?”

TO BE CONTINUED……

[girlz4jaem]

OUR PATHS | 11. dubs in the chat (wc: 1k) cw: mentions of cheating

JAEMIN arrived at your room within five minutes of your request, carrying a handful of your favorite snacks and the little comfort items he’d used with you the last time a storm had kept you up. as he took off his slippers, settled in, and began prepping a quick late-night meal using the dinky hotel kettle, you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt the tiniest bit. not only had he taken you up on your offer to come by, but he’d also remembered exactly what you needed on nights like this.

you both ate the instant ramen he brought over, the two of you sitting on the edge of your bed. the silence between you felt heavy, like there were words piling up but no clear path forward. yet, the ramen was almost too good for midnight, and in its own way, it helped ease the tension. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, but this was exactly what you needed. his quiet, steady presence and his little gestures of thoughtfulness, even after all this time, still made a difference.

after a few moments, you noticed jaemin watching you as you finished your last bites, a pensive look in his eyes. suddenly, he spoke, his voice almost catching, as if the words were slipping out against his own will. “i’m sorry. and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

your eyes widened slightly, not expecting the conversation to start like this—or even tonight at all. you tried to brush it off, hoping to avoid the inevitable heartache that you knew this talk would bring. “is this what you’ve been meaning to say the past few days? you already apologized, no?”

jaemin shook his head softly, his gaze still fixed on you. “y/n, you know that’s different... why do you keep trying to push me away?”

you took a deep breath, focusing on the ground, summoning the strength to finally open this door back up. “you really broke my heart, do you know that?”

his voice was quiet but determined. “let me be the one to put it back together, y/n, please. i really am sorry for everything. i’m sorry i didn’t get to show you how much you meant to me when i had the chance.”

a beat of silence passed, and you took a shaky breath. “do you even want to tell me why you left? because you never did. you left without saying goodbye, and that fucking sucked. i wish you would’ve at least broken up with me in person.”

jaemin’s shoulders tensed as he processed your words, his face contorted with regret. “i know. and, god, i am incredibly sorry. i know this is all still confusing and frustrating for you, but you have to know i never stopped loving you. i still love you. i just... i needed to figure things out about myself.” he paused, as if bracing himself, then continued. “a couple of days before i sent that text, i ran into my ex on a work trip.” he laughed bitterly. “it seems like I’m always running into my exes…”

he continued on,”i don’t know if you remember, because i barely mentioned her when we were together, but we were together for a long time, and she cheated on me. our relationship was messy and toxic, and she left me with a lot of trust issues and self-doubt.”

jaemin’s voice faltered briefly, but he continued. “when i saw her, i found out she’d actually signed up for the work event on purpose, just to give me ‘closure.’ but instead of helping, it brought back everything. it was like i was reliving all of it—how we ended, how messed up that relationship was. it made me realize that i hadn’t really dealt with any of it, and that i’d brought all that baggage into what we had. i needed to work through it, but i thought that would hurt you more than just ending it.”

he looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “how could i love you properly if i hated myself so much?”

your voice was barely a whisper. “but why didn’t you just tell me all of that, jaemin? i didn’t want perfect. i wanted you.”

“i know,” he replied, the weight of his guilt clear in his expression. “i shouldn’t have just left without even attempting to have a conversation. but after what she put me through, i didn’t want to put you through the same thing. i didn’t want you to feel like you had to deal with my issues for me. and, knowing you… you would’ve done just that. you would’ve sacrificed your needs and happiness for me, and i’d been in that exact position before. it always ends badly.”

the room fell silent as his words hung in the air. finally, jaemin continued, his voice softer. “i regretted it as soon as i sent that message, though. i tried to reach out, to fix things, but you blocked me on everything. i even tried to see you in person, but… ryujin told me to stay away.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “oh god… ryujin… of course.”

he hesitated on his next words, but ultimately pushed through it. “i know it’s not enough to make up for what i did. i know it’s not going to change how much i hurt you. but i need you to know that i really am here, and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

your eyes locked onto his, the vulnerability in them matching your own. “you hurt me, jaemin. and i don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to get past that.”

he nodded, his gaze dropping. “i get it. and if you want me to back off, i will. but if there’s even a small part of you that wants to give this another try, then… let me prove that i’ve changed.”

after a long moment, you finally whispered, “i’ll forgive you, jaemin.” you lowered your voice even more, “i-i still love you too.” jaemin perked up at that note. “but i need you to really show me that you mean it. prove to me that you love me the way you say you do.”

his eyes softened with a glimmer of hope. “i will. whatever it takes.”

the storm outside continued, but somehow, you felt a little more grounded.

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NOTES | omfg sorry friends i've been so busy but mayhaps this hella long and long awaited chapter is worth it!!!! TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies @andyprkmyluv @gomdoleemyson

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[bellysoupset]

Max Meeting The Gang

"A whole weekend?" Max raised his eyebrows, watching the football practice as if he understood a single thing about the game. Next to him, Vince was his perfect opposite, actually enthralled by it all and occasionally cheering.

Vince was wrapped up in a cardigan on top of his sweater and he hadn't shaved in a couple days, so his perpetual five o'clock shadow had leveled up into a full beard. He still looked pale and gaunt from that horrible flu bout, despite more than a week having passed since. Frankly, Max had been surprised when Vince showed up to his classes on Tuesday, instead of taking the day off.

"Yeah, we leave Friday after class and come back Sunday night," Vince answered, waving to his sister as the cheerleaders entered the field, "it'll be fun, Max."

"I don't know, Vince," Max shrugged, rolling his eyes as he saw a bunch of girls look in his direction and start to giggle, "they're your friends, not mine."

"Yeah, that's how you make new friends," Vince reached in and squeezed his nape in affectionate manner, shoving Max slightly, "you know my girlfriend already, that's two."

Max crossed his arms, chewing on his bottom lip, "I guess... I'll think about it."

"Well, don't think too hard, I need to know by Thursday because I'm grocery shopping before heading there," Vin shivered violently, pulling his cardigan tighter around himself and Max eyed him worriedly, but didn't say anything, "if it's anything, I think you'll really like them."

That wasn't what concerned Max. Vince clearly was really really close with his friends, if anything they seemed more like family than just friendship, and Max had a weird fright deep in his guts, like he was just about to meet Vince's parents. Not that it made any sense, he had never been the type to meet the parents of the people he dated, he knew Mr. and Mrs. Monacelli already and, oh yeah, he was not dating Vince.

However the fear was the same, that he was going to meet Vince's friends, they'd decide they hated him, and he'd kiss his friendship with Vin goodbye.

"Get out of your head," Vince jabbed his elbow in Max's tummy, not too hard, "it's going to be fun... I'd like if you came."

And really, did Max ever stand a chance against such words?

-------------

Since Max had a car and Vince was going to go grocery shopping beforehand, they decided to go together. Max wasn't so sure about all of this, he wanted to bolt and his stomach was churning with nerves, but Vince was making a damn good job of making sure he couldn't, like by riding along with him.

"VIN!"

Max looked up in time to see a blur of dark hair and then Wendy was tackling her boyfriend into a hug, kissing his face all over, "oh my god, you look horrible," she whined mid kisses and Vince chuckled, planting her down on the ground.

"Thanks?"

"You look so pale, doesn't he look pale, Max?" Wendy cupped her boyfriend's face, "this is like the third stomach flu you had in six months, I'm putting you in quarantine."

Vince laughed at that, wrapping his arms around Wendy and giving her a hug from behind, pressing a kiss to her temple, "you sound like my mom, honey."

Wendy let out a little scoff at that, but it vanished quickly as her green eyes paused on Max and her pout melted into a smile, "hey, I'm so happy you decided to come," she perked up to give him a hug, leaving him stunned.

Max's whole face was a shade of red, when the front door of the cabin opened and a group of people stepped out. He recognized Vince's friend, Luke, immediately, the one with dark wavy hair and just as tall as Vin was. He was chatting with two other men, who were holding hands and clearly a couple.

"Guys!" Vince called out their attention, "Max, these are Luke, Leo and Jon. Guys, this is Daniels," he introduced them with a smile and Max wanted to shrink in his shoes. He felt clammy and nauseous all of sudden, but forced up a lopsided smile that communicated he wasn't so anxious he could vomit.

The man Vince had pointed out as Jon, raised a hand, all smooth and formal, "nice to meet you, Daniels."

"Just Max," he cleared his throat, shaking Jonah's hand and then Leo perked up to do the same, although he looked much more friendly than his boyfriend.

Luke didn't shake his hand at all, only offered him a tight smile, "hi Max."

"Where's Bell?" Vince asked, frowning and squeezing Max's shoulder, "oh there she is."

Max followed Vince's gaze and then raised his eyebrows as he saw a stunning ginger getting out of the house. She was wearing a black bikini top and jeans shorts, curly hair falling like a mane around her face and Max's jaw all but dropped.

He stepped aside in order not to be stepped on by her, as Bella apparently didn't even register him before tackling Vince with a hug. She squeezed him tightly, murmuring in a strained voice, "I've missed you."

Then her eyes landed on Max and she raised her eyebrows, scrutinizing him, "that's Daniels?"

"In the flesh," he answered before he could think better of it and she seemed momentarily surprised she had asked that out loud and that he had answered. Bella measured him up and down, then smiled.

"I thought you'd be taller."

"Well, this isn't awkward at all," Vince teased, while Wendy wrapped an arm around his waist and laughed, "let's go inside the house."

Max was more than a little dizzy with the amount of information he had to absorb in such a short time. Vince and Wendy shared a room upstairs, as well as Jonah and Leo. Downstairs, Luke and Bella had the third room and Max was delegated to the sofa bed, in the living room — which he didn't mind in the least but still made a big show of complaining about, just because he enjoyed watching Vince fumble over himself in search of a solution.

"You're mean," Leo whispered, leaning in his direction, as Vince continued to try and argue with Jonah and Luke that they should all draw straws.

"I prefer fun," Max retorted, smiling back at the other man, "so how long have you known Vince?"

"Since his first week of college," Leo shrugged, resting his back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms to his chest, "he came to college already in the team, but I was doing try outs. Adopted me on the spot."

"And here I was feeling special," Max rolled his eyes, "he does that a lot?"

"Adopt strays? Not as much as Luke does," Leo let out an amused huff as his boyfriend told Vince he was not switching room and that was final, "not you though, he hates you."

"Couldn't have guessed," Max snorted, as if he could ignore the way Lucas was all stiff around him or the over the top PDA he was displaying with his wife simply because Max had looked at Bella.

"He's just jealous that Vince likes you," Leo shrugged, patting Max's arm, "it'll wear off by the end of the weekend, Luke can't hold a grudge."

Across the kitchen, Luke said something in a low, snappy voice that caused Jonah's eyebrows to jump and Vince to frown, shutting his mouth in a tight line.

"Maybe we should intervene?"

"Nah, let them hash it out," Bella's said, pushing herself between them and resting her back comfortably against Leo's arm. She was holding a beer and looking Max up and down like he was a zoo animal, "so how long you were in?"

"Jesus, Bell, you can't just ask people that," Leo exclaimed, while Max let out an amused snort. He hadn't ever told Vince that he had done time, so he wondered how she knew this.

"Just two days, protest arrest," Max answered, but never quite started that conversation, since Wendy wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged at it, all the while saying loudly:

"Enough with the gossiping, we were all gonna go in the lake."

He did not, in fact, want to go in the lake. Ever since the day before his stomach had been a mess, which Max was chalking up to nerves, and he felt weirdly self conscious of stripping before this group, when his belly was sticking out, bloated and crampy.

Still, it was a warm, sunny day out and he had no excuse not to go in. He paced around the shore, as Bella raced Wendy down the pier and they both jumped, followed by Luke and Leo, the blonde spluttering up water and pushing his hair back as he yelled, "c'mon guys! Jon!"

Jonah was all smooth, unlike his friends who still behaved like kids, he took his time to strip and neatly fold his clothes, before walking into the lake instead of jumping from the pier.

"Aren't you gonna get in?" Vince patted Max's shoulder and the man shrugged, feeling horribly out of place.

"I don't know about this whole weekend, man," he started to complain, but Vin cut him off with a dramatic gesture. He always talked with his hands, really not helping the stereotype.

"You haven't been here for an hour," he said with a heavy sigh, kicking off his shoes, "if you still wanna leave by night, I'll drive you back, alright?"

Sounded good enough, even if Max felt a pang of guilt at the idea of Vin wasting another 3 hours of his weekend by driving Max back to Doveport, then back again to the cabin.

"Alright-" he stripped off his shirt, wincing slightly when his stomach let out a nauseated growl and rolled, breakfast sitting like a fucking brick.

Next to him, Vince stripped his shirt and threw it on top of Jonah's carefully folded pile, messing it up and causing the man to shout all the way back from the lake, "VINCE!"

"C'mooon, get in, Vin! Max!" Wendy squealed, drowning Jonah's shout and climbing on his back so she could have some leverage. She was the shortest of the group and while Luke was standing on solid ground, Wendy was panting as she struggled to keep her head afloat.

Max let his eyes wander, roaming over the expanse of Vince's naked back and biting down a dreamy sigh. By now he had seen Vin shirtless - and fully naked, thanks to the recent flu from hell - more than he ever thought he would. Still, the guy was a vision.

He removed his own shirt and grimaced at his stomach, wondering if it was visible to anyone else how upset the organ was, then dumped his wallet and cell on top of his shirt and kicked off his shoes, joining the group.

The water felt extremely cold against his skin and he shivered violently, letting out a string of curses when Vince promptly dunked his head in the water as soon as Max was close enough.

He came up spluttering and cursing, only for Wendy to be smiling at him and shut him up easy like that, "Welcome to the group, Max," she whispered in his ear and Max opened his mouth to reply, only for Bella to dive and tug at his feet, causing him to go underwater once again.

[bobohu4eva]

Ecstasy

Part 6 - Cry for Love

Genre: Soloist!Baekhyun x Reader, angst, fluff, smut 18+ audiences only MDNI

WC: 5.7k

Tag List: @nana-banana @xzyxbbh @greasywall @endzii23 @scopoliax @silent-potato23-blog @baekyeonoreo

Warnings for this chapter: smut (non explicit), alcohol consumption, drug use

Masterlist

Addiction (noun): Disorder characterized by compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli despite adverse consequences

“You’re a dumbass, you know that right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it. I know I fucked up. I don’t even know what to say to her anymore.”

Chanyeol let out a long sigh, trying to muster up some sympathy for his friend's predicament, but finding it quite difficult. He’d seen it coming, more or less. Something terrible was bound to happen with how reckless Baekhyun was being. He took a sip of his beer before setting it back down on the bar, doing his best to at least look sorry for his friend when he glanced back at him. 

“You’ve tried calling her right?”

“No, well not since that day at least. I don’t know if I should. Her friend told me not to, and I get it. But I really do want to see her again, and apologize.” 

The whole time Baekhyun stared, seemingly into nothingness. He hated how much he missed her, even after only a few days. 

“You should at least call to apologize, you owe her that much.”

“What if she doesn’t want to hear from me at all? I don’t want to make things even worse.” 

“Just call. The worst she can do is not pick up.” 

“And if she does? What would I even say?”

“The truth.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“You don’t say.” 

Baekhyun chugged down his drink, getting the bartender's attention and ordering another round. He was already drunk, but it still wasn’t enough to erase what he felt. 

“Why did you freak out so bad? I mean she told you she didn’t mean it. I know acid is one hell of a drug but jesus. You were way too goddamn harsh.” 

“I almost said it back.” He responded, staring blankly at the counter before him. 

Chanyeol's eyes went wide. 

“I was so upset that that even crossed my mind. And if I had said it, who fucking knows what would’ve happened.”

“Well, do you?” 

Baekhyun just glared at him, refusing to say anything. 

“You clearly care about her a lot, I don’t know why you can’t just admit that. I think she could be really good for you, if you just got over your own bullshit.”

Baekhyun leaned forward until his forehead was on the bar, both hands on the back of his neck. He couldn’t remember ever resenting himself so deeply, and that was saying something. 

Chanyeol was right, and they both knew it. 

The guilt made it hard to do anything more than drink himself into numbness. He'd probably ruined any chance he had at something real with her, even if that in itself also made him uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to try and fix things, he knew deep down that he'd probably just end up hurting her again anyway. In the end though, the side of him that still wanted her was much stronger, and far less rational.

Every time he thought about that day, and how she must've felt after he kicked her out of his apartment, his chest would get tight, the dread quickly becoming more than he could handle. He’d had an awful time himself, the trip turning downright terrifying, and he’d been inside his own apartment the whole time. Outside, alone, she must’ve felt she was in a living nightmare. He was disgusted with himself, with how cruel he’d become, and all because of a few words that she didn’t even mean. 

Eventually he decided that it would be worse not to say anything. Even if she didn’t want to hear from him, he had to at least try to tell her how sorry he was, otherwise the guilt would keep chipping away at his sanity until it consumed him whole. 

It took a while for him to get to the point where he actually had the strength to pick up the phone and pull up her contact. Even then, he just sat in his apartment, staring at his phone, debating with himself. He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous, the idea of talking to her after he’d fucked up so badly, or the very real possibility that she would simply decline the call all together. Losing her completely was more terrifying than he was willing to admit to himself. 

Finally, he called. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he listened to it ring, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself with little success. When she picked up, his heart nearly stopped. He tried to say something, but his voice failed him.

“Baekhyun?” 

“Hi.” He eventually managed to get out, painfully aware of how stupid he sounded. He took another deep breath, finally gathering himself a bit before continuing. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

She didn’t say anything. She could hear the lack of consistency in his voice. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just so fucking sorry. I know I fucked up.” 

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you kick me out?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He heard her sigh in disappointment. It was a lie of course, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. 

“Look, I appreciate the apology, but I really don’t want to do this over the phone. If you have anything you need to say to me, I’d rather hear it in person.” 

She hung up before he could respond, and he wasted no time getting into his car to drive to her place. 

Her pain had been unbearable. Even after several days sober his harshness stayed with her, bringing with it a constant dull ache in her chest. She barely ate or slept, but knowing that he at least seemed to feel bad about what he’d done gave her a bit of relief.

Despite Suhyun’s insistence that she cut him off completely, she’d still been waiting, hoping to hear something. She wanted an apology, an explanation, something that would help her feel a bit better, and she wanted him to look her in the eyes as he said it.

The knock on her door, not even 30 minutes after hanging up the phone, came as a shock. 

On the other side, Baekhyun worried he might actually pass out. He assumed that she would tell him how awful he was and then send him right back home, and he thought he was mentally prepared for that, but once he was actually there he realized how wrong he’d been. The ground seemed to sway beneath him, his stomach twisting, threatening to expel the lunch he'd just had. 

The door swung open and they met eyes, Baekhyun bracing himself for the worst.

She let him in, and his expression was something she’d never seen before. His eyes were glassy, the anxiety behind them clear as day. She could see the nervous tension in the way he fidgeted, hands clammy, heart racing. 

His eyes squeezed shut, and he mustered up all the courage he could, though still feeling utterly pitiful.

“I know you probably hate me and never want to see me again, but I need you to know how awful I feel about what I did. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am.” He eventually said, barely keeping it together. 

To his shock, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. 

Tears soon dampened her forehead, feeling the quiet tremors of his chest as he fell apart. He held her close, cradling her against his chest, the closeness allowing his body to fully relax for the first time in nearly a week. Somehow though, he felt even guiltier than if she’d told him off, at least he would've deserved that.

 As hurt as she might’ve been, she’d still missed him. That day, before everything went downhill, he'd shown her a kind of happiness she hadn’t even known was possible. And even before that, when she was with him, the good moments were so powerful that they easily overshadowed all the bad. Nobody else had ever made her feel that before. 

She didn’t want whatever they had to end, even though she knew logically that it would be idiotic to forgive him after he’d been so cruel. She cared about him too much, she was too attached, she still wanted him despite it all, and that was probably the worst part. Despite how terrible he'd made her feel that day, the potential for good was still there. The good times she'd had with him were some of the best of her life, and giving that up wasn't easy. For her, it was impossible. The highs were so high, that the lows were somehow still worth dealing with. 

It didn’t make sense, he'd been absolutely certain that she'd be furious. 

“How do you not hate me right now? Are you really not mad at me?” 

She looked up at him, one hand coming to cup his damp cheek, tears of her own coming to mirror his. It was strange to see him of all people cry, but oddly comforting, too. It told her just how much he regretted what he’d done, that he cared, that he hated how badly he’d hurt her. He’d never shown that sort of vulnerability before, the cool facade he usually put on, now completely shattered. It gave her the reassurance she'd been craving so badly. Maybe forgiving him wouldn't be so dumb after all, since he'd hopefully never hurt her like that again. 

“I don’t hate you. I’m just glad you’re sorry, I was so worried that you were still mad at me, since I didn’t hear from you. I thought I ruined everything.” 

He quickly shook his head. “Of course I’m not mad at you, if anyone ruined anything it was me. I never had a right to be angry with you in the first place, I was being completely awful and irrational.” 

She couldn’t help the small smile that crept its way onto her lips, finally assured that he didn’t harbor any resentment towards her for what she’d said, that he felt genuine remorse. 

“I was afraid to call after that day because I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me, or if it would be best to just leave you alone. Your friend told me not to contact you, and I can see where she’s coming from.”

“When did you talk to my friend?”

“I called you later that day. Once I snapped out of my own bullshit I realized how unsafe it was for you to be outside alone like that and I wanted to make sure you were okay, and apologize. She answered and told me not to contact you anymore, that I’ve fucked up your life enough already, and she’s probably right about that.” 

“She never even mentioned that you called.” She pouted, making a mental note to call Suhyun out next time they met up. 

“I’m glad she was there. I was so scared something happened to you, at least when she picked up I knew you were safe.” 

“You know, I might not hate you, but I am still mad at you. I wish you could at least tell me why you reacted like that.” 

As forgiving as she was, the awfulness of that day was impossible to forget. The drug caused her fear and confusion to materialize in everything she saw, victimizing her until the high eventually faded, and the horror of it stuck with her. That was something she couldn't let go so easily.

He ran one hand through his hair, and when he didn’t answer right away she pulled him along with her to sit down on the couch. 

“I wish I could explain it to you, something in me just.. snapped. There’s a reason I don’t do relationships, that kind of stuff, it fucks with my head.” 

She swallowed, painfully reminded of that hard truth. “Why?” 

He shook his head, if he tried to explain everything they’d probably be there all day, and she’d never be able to see him the same way again. He wouldn’t be able to get it all out without more tears, either. That was a can of worms he just couldn’t get into.

“You should’ve taken it as a compliment you know, you fucked me so good I thought I was in love with you.” 

He forced a smile, but even that caused something unpleasant to twist up inside him. 

“If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me and I’ll do it.” 

She shrugged. It was clear that he'd never be able to give her what she really wanted anyway. 

Still, at least he cared for her. He wouldn't have gotten so emotional if she didn't mean something to him. 

“Are you busy today?” He asked. 

“Not really, no.” 

“I could order us something to eat, or we could go somewhere, whatever you want. I just- I missed you.” 

‘I missed you.’

Even if it would be short lived, she wanted to enjoy the new sensitivity he was finally showing her, so she agreed. 

They stayed at her place, ordering in and opening up a bottle of wine. It wasn’t long at all until they both settled comfortably into the couch, still more relieved than anything. She’d missed him just as much. 

She’d grown used to the confident, wild, sexy side of him, but now, something about him felt fundamentally different. Maybe it was the fact that she’d seen him cry, but whatever it was, it felt warmer, softer, a side of him she knew very few people got to see. 

They spent hours on her couch together in comfortable silence, the show on the TV long forgotten as they kissed and held each other. She’d laid herself atop his chest, one hand landing on her waist, and the other at the nape of her neck, keeping her lips glued to his own. 

His touch was gentle, enjoying the warmth and softness of her skin after having missed her so much. The path his hands took across her back, shoulders, and neck full of adoration. He never ventured any further, because it didn't feel appropriate, he didn't want her to think that he'd only come back for sex. Just getting to kiss and touch her again already felt like a small miracle. 

However that didn't stop his body from reacting to her, now that she lay flush to his chest between his parted legs. As she deepened the kisses her body sunk into him even further, and she felt the line of hardness beneath his sweats. When she rocked her pelvis into him, he let out a groan, hands holding firmly onto her hips.

“Fuck, don't do that.” 

Their eyes met, and she pouted at him, “Why not?”

“I don't think this is a good idea, I came over here to apologize, not try to get you to sleep with me again.” 

As he spoke her lips attached themselves to his neck, leaving a path of soft kisses from his jaw down to the collar of his shirt. “And if I want to anyway?” 

She pulled his shirt down a bit and sucked on the skin of his collarbone, eliciting another moan. 

“You're sure about this?” 

“You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” 

Part of her was skeptical, too, but as always, her desire for him overpowered any trace of caution. His touch, his voice, it all drew her in beyond the bounds of reason. She just wanted to feel close to him. Laying there together innocently had been nice, but she inevitably slipped into more troublesome desires. 

Baekhyun didn't respond, instead, his hands finally slid beneath the threshold of her clothes. The warmth of her skin beneath his hands caused him to sigh. He, too, had missed this.  

The sex felt like an apology. Where he’d been hungry, even desperate, in the past, he now took his time. It wasn’t one night stand sex, or even meaningless fling sex. It was the kind of sex that happens when two people know and care about each other. She let him set the pace, and he decided to be slow and intentional, he set that tone. The praises that passed his lips lost their teasing edge, his gratitude stronger than his usual desire to frustrate her.  More than anything he wanted to savor this, to show her his devotion the only way he knew how. 

Several orgasms later, they both collapsed into a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs on her couch. Baekhyun still refused to let go, keeping her in his arms for as long as she would allow, which turned out to be a good long while, much to his delight. 

Baekhyun hadn’t intended to spend the entire day with her in such a way, he was just so relieved that she didn’t hate him. Somehow his head ended up on her lap, and when she began to play with his hair, a satisfied sigh left him. He'd always loved the feeling, and how easily it would relax him. 

Several sleepless nights had left him exhausted, and as her hands stayed in his hair, he drifted off to sleep, resting more peacefully than he had in a long time. 

His sleeping face brought a smile to her own. She didn’t move, letting him use her as a pillow and nap through the afternoon. Every once in a while she would notice a change in his expression, brows knit in what seemed like distress, and she wondered what he could be dreaming about. So much of his mind was still a mystery to her, one that she desperately wanted to solve. 

When he eventually woke back up it was already dark outside, and he figured it was time to head home. He didn't want to leave, and even thought about asking her to let him spend the night, but after everything it just didn't feel right. He didn't want to overstay his welcome. 

“Has anyone talked to you about the anniversary party yet?” He asked as he got his things together. 

She shook her head. 

“It’s a fairly big thing the company does every year, it’s mostly for artists and higher ups, and I know I’m going, so I was wondering if you wanted to come as my date?” 

‘Date’

That one word was so unexpected coming from him, she found herself momentarily frozen. 

“Uh.. sure, yeah. When is it?”

He told her the details, and she still couldn't shake the implications of that one word. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but she wondered if maybe he was finally ready to at least hint at something more serious between them. 

The day of he picked her up as usual, noticing the fitted suit he wore as she got into his car. She knew it was a rather formal affair, but he looked so handsome, she still became a little nervous. 

“You look beautiful,” He murmured, looking her up and down before leaning in for a quick kiss. 

The event was held in the largest ballroom of a luxury hotel full of opulent decorations, and even had a gorgeous outdoor area lit up for the approaching holidays. She'd worn one of her favorite dresses, but even so, she felt a little silly walking in together, arm in arm with him. The guest list was full of a-list celebrities, both from their company, as well as some others, along with various executives. She felt all the familiar uncertainties from the first night she'd met him rush back. 

He must've sensed how tense she became, squeezing her hand and giving her a reassuring smile. The softness of it had her leaning further into him. 

She looked up at him, his profile outlined by the lights of the party, and she remembered just who she was there with. And not only that, but he'd said it himself, she was his date. 

It emboldened her, knowing that no matter Baekhyun's history or reputation, she was the one on his arm, and the one he’d be going home with after. 

They headed towards the bar for a drink, and she still remained quiet, too deep in thought to get anything out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” He told her, “let's just try to have a good time, yeah?” 

He pulled out a chair for her and they took a seat, each ordering their first round of the night. Baekhyun did his best to lighten the mood, complimenting her, joking around and flirting all in an attempt to see her smile. And it worked for the most part, though the constant interruptions always pulled her right back into her insecurities.

Every few minutes someone would come up to him, and he would talk to them as if she wasn't even there. By the third time, she started to wonder why she'd been invited at all. 

She'd been zoning out, staring at the array of bottles behind the bar when she heard her name. When she looked up, she saw a familiar face. 

Joohyun. The same woman he'd ditched her for at Chanyeol’s birthday. 

Baekhyun had introduced her, and Joohyun raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. 

“You're here together?” Joohyun asked, a glimpse of something sinister in her eyes. Her face, beautiful as she was, did little to hide the ugliness apparent underneath. 

She started to nod but Baekhyun spoke up first. “We're just friends.” 

Joohyun smirked, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. “Well, it's always good to see you.” 

She turned to walk away, and as Baekhyun looked back at his date, it became apparent how pissed she was. 

She chugged down the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the bar and getting up. Baekhyun rolled his eyes, following her. 

“Really _____?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I can see you're mad, don't you think you're being a little dramatic?” 

“I thought I was your date! We sure as hell aren't just friends, and for you to say that to her of all people? After what happened on Chanyeol’s birthday? Really?” 

“What else would we be if not friends, hm? As far as I'm concerned we are just friends.” 

“I know you care about me as more than a friend” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, a bitter look overtaking his face. “Do I?” 

She scoffed, “You're unbelievable.” 

With that she turned, walking away but he took hold of her wrist, pulling her back towards him. “Where do you think you're going?” 

“Home. I don't want to be here anymore.” 

“No the fuck you're not.” 

“Baekhyun, let go of me.”

He didn’t. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No. I’m sick of you being hot and cold with me. You don’t get to treat me like that.” 

His grip on her gave way, but she didn’t leave yet. His lips pressed together as his eyes squeezed shut, a heavy sigh leaving him. 

“Okay. I get it. But please, stay. You don't have to talk to me. Just let me take you home later.” 

“Take me home with you? Seriously?” 

“It doesn’t have to be with me. I can just drop you off.” 

She glared at him, almost scoffing again, but decided to just turn and walk away. When he took hold of her arm again, she glared. “If I’m staying, you could at least let me get another drink.” 

He watched her sit down by herself, ordering something that looked strong. 

As she sipped on her drink, she scanned the room, hoping she'd at least recognize someone. She'd almost given up, accepting that she'd probably end up drinking alone until Baekhyun was ready to go, but then she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

Chanyoel’s smile was a welcome sight, as he sat himself down next to her at the bar. 

“Hi! How are you? Are you here with Baekhyun?” He asked. 

“Hi, yeah. Unfortunately.” 

“Why's that unfortunate?” 

She shook her head, “You were right about him, I fear.” 

Chanyeol hummed in acknowledgment, it wasn't hard for him to imagine what could be going on. 

“He's being an ass?” 

“Yeah. I just don't get it. One day he's being really sweet, and then he turns around and acts like that was all bullshit. I'm tired of it. I wanted to go home, but for some reason he wants me to stay.” 

“So? You can still leave. Who cares what he wants.” 

She took a long sip of her drink. 

“I don't want to make him mad.” 

Chanyeol looked a bit confused, but still nodded. “Well, I'm here if you want company. It's a great party, it would be a shame to spend the whole night sulking at the bar.” 

“Thank you.” 

Soon his drink arrived, and he clinked the glass against hers. 

Baekhyun was nowhere to be seen as the two made light conversation, and she was grateful to take her mind off him for a bit. 

Chanyeol, now a bit tipsy, and knowing well that she wasn't pleased with his friend, seized the opportunity. He wasn't usually much of a flirt, but with her it came easily. 

His compliments cheered her up enough that eventually even his dumb jokes brought a smile to her face. When both drinks were gone and he asked her to dance, she gladly accepted. 

They stood, but he pulled her aside before they could make it to the dance floor. Now that they had a bit more privacy, he pulled something out of his pocket. 

Pills. The same ones from the night of his birthday. 

“Do you want one?” He asked, popping one for himself. She considered it for a moment, and with the night being fairly young, and Baekhyun still lingering in the back of her mind, she decided to go for it. His being a jerk didn't mean she couldn't still enjoy herself. 

Dancing with Chanyeol was nice. He was respectful, his hands never venturing further than her hips or waist. He was taller, and overall larger than Baekhyun, which was probably the biggest difference she felt between the two men. She liked that about him, that he made her feel distinctly different than Baekhyun did. Baekhyun was all bold words and risky touches, while Chanyeol was quieter, more cautious. Baekhyun's hands were slender, softer, when they held onto her, delicate in their teasing touches. Chanyeol’s were calloused, stronger, anchoring her without demanding anything more. 

The change of pace was well appreciated, even more so as the drug further loosened her up. She knew that Chanyeol was interested in her, sexually, romantically, or otherwise, but she didn't care. She knew he wouldn't cross any lines, especially not with Baekhyun nearby. 

Eventually the drug in tandem with the crowd of bodies on the dance floor forced the two to catch a breather, ending up outside on a large balcony overlooking the city. It was quieter there, with only a few other people tolerating the cool breeze.

As she looked out at the city, and then back at Chanyeol, she had to fight back a grin. Here she was, on a beautiful, opulent hotel balcony overlooking one of the coolest cities in the world, with a devastatingly handsome rockstar at her side. Baekhyun was the last thing on her mind at that point, she was fully enraptured by the party, the drug, and the man now stepping closer to her. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, though he could see it on her face, how happy she was. She didn’t say anything, her smile speaking for itself. 

“This is nice.” She said, “Really, really nice.” 

Chanyeol nodded in agreement, and when their eyes met this time, neither could seem to look away. They both moved closer, the distance growing smaller and smaller, and out of instinct more than anything else, she threw her arms around his neck. 

With the Seoul skyline as their backdrop, their lips met. Chanyeol took half a step back at first, surprised by her boldness, though he quickly leaned back into her. The kiss was sweet, just testing the waters, enjoying the new sensation amidst the rush of the high. 

When Baekhyun shoved his friend away from her, she initially gasped. But once the surprise wore off, the abundance of happy chemicals in her brain kept her from feeling even the slightest bit upset. 

Baekhyun wanted a reaction. He wanted her to yell, so he could yell back, so he could tell her and Chanyeol off for being such terrible friends. When she instead started to giggle, his blood began to boil. 

“Are you two fucking serious?” 

Chanyeol stayed silent, wide eyed as he watched everything unfold before him. He was relieved that his friend's attention was more focused on her. 

“Are you serious? You said so yourself, we're just friends. I can kiss whoever I want.” 

The lightness in her tone, her unbothered smile, it taunted him, mocked him.

His eyes turned to Chanyeol. “Did you give her drugs?” 

His mouth opened to respond, but the words seemed to get stuck somewhere along the way. 

“Don't worry.” She said, “It's not LSD. I’m not about to say more stupid shit I don't mean.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes dug into his friends, and Chanyeol knew that he was holding back. He knew his friend well enough to know when a line had been crossed. 

“We're leaving.” He ordered, taking tight hold of her hand and pulling her towards the doors. 

She gave Chanyeol a half-assed goodbye, frowning, but didn't resist as Baekhyun pulled them both back to his car. 

“You're being an asshole again.” She commented, her tone still far too nonchalant for Baekhyun’s taste. 

While she'd been off with Chanyeol, Baekhyun found a friend who offered him a generous hit of coke. The drug only amplified his shaky, delirious rage, his grip on the steering wheel tightening at her words.

“I'm being an asshole? Really?” 

“Yea, I was having fun. We aren't together, you've made that abundantly clear, so I don't see what the problem is.” 

“Don't play fucking innocent we both know you only did that to piss me off.” 

“And why does it piss you off? Hmm?” She really hadn't done it with any malicious intent. She’d just wanted to have a good time and one thing led to another, but in her drug induced cloud of smug confidence and brutal honesty she continued on taunting him. “Because I know you care about me. You wouldn't have shown up at my apartment in tears the other day if you didn't care about me.” 

At the next red light he looked over at her, the tension in his jaw and forehead clearly evident in his expression. “You will never be anything more to me than a friend and a good fuck. However you think I might feel won’t change that.” 

His words stung, but she wouldn’t let him know that. “Then you don’t get to freak out when I kiss another guy.” 

Baekhyun didn’t respond, but she could see the anger, he looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“This is fucked.” He eventually muttered. 

“You don’t say.” 

“No, you don’t get it. This is bad.” 

She just rolled her eyes, and tried to concentrate on the city passing by on the other side of the window. 

She assumed he would be taking her back home to her apartment, and yet as he kept driving, it became clear that he was doing nothing of the sort. 

“Baekhyun, where are we going? You said you would drop me off.” 

“‘You’re staying with me tonight.” 

“No the fuck I’m not?! I want to sleep in my own bed, far away from you. Turn around.” 

“No.” 

She stared at him, bewildered, but he refused to even look her way. His eyes remained fixed to the road, which was quickly approaching his building. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Still, he didn’t react, not until the pair were pulling into his building’s parking garage. He parked, turned off the engine, and locked the doors. 

“I need you to stay with me tonight.” His hands remained on the wheel as he said it, anchoring himself. He stared straight ahead at the concrete wall. 

“What?”

“Please, just spend the night. You can go straight to sleep. I won't bother you. But just, stay with me. Please.” 

He finally looked at her. Maybe it was the drug, but the way he looked at her made something shift. He wasn’t angry, he was scared. 

“Why should I?” 

“Maybe you’re right. I know I can’t give you what you want, but I do care.”

“That’s not fair.” 

He shook his head, wearing a pained expression as he got out of the car, opening her door and taking her hand to follow him. She did, though she still wasn’t sure why. 

“Baekhyun, why the hell can’t I just get an uber home? It's not like we're gonna fuck so I don’t see the point in coming up.” 

His hand was suddenly yanking on hers, pulling her close in an instant. He held her face in his hands, barely giving her time to take a breath before his lips were crashing into hers. 

It was messy, needy and desperate. Baekhyun quickly pushed his tongue past her lips, tasting the lingering liquor from earlier in the night, combined with the flavor he was already addicted to. Her. 

“Stop talking.” He whispered into the space between their lips when he’d finally had his fill. She pouted a little, but didn’t challenge him. 

The rest of the night was silent. They went up to his apartment together, and went to bed, without sharing another word. She was getting tired anyway, and the drug made it difficult to care all that much about whatever chaos seemed to be going on in Baekhyun’s head. 

When they laid down together, he pulled her in close, so close it was almost suffocating. His face pressed into the crown of her head, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo, feeling something inside him twist into an uncomfortable knot. Still, he didn’t let go. If anything, he held on tighter. 

His own words from earlier in the night repeated over and over in his head, until he passed out with her still wrapped firmly around him. 

This is fucked. This is bad.  

Really, really bad. 

[megs-1800]

Love Of My Life

Notes: Requests are still open and as usual please give feedback

Summary: You and Mason were toxic together and couldn't continue, but when your child was born you agreed to co-parent. At your son's second birthday how will Mason react to meeting your new boyfriend? How will he react to this boyfriend throwing away the letter confessing his feelings to you months before? Now you have a choice to make, which boy is the love of your life?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

As I open my eyes I can feel a small body on top of me, “mummmyyyy” I hear as I slowly adjust my eyes to the light. “mummy I am two today” my baby boy says holding up two fingers slowly and so proud of him that he can say that and knows how old he is. I smile at my boy “that’s it baby you are two today. Happy birthday!” and I grab him into the biggest hug. I look directly at him and damn he looks so much like his dad, he has all the features of Mason he is his double.

I think back to the time between me and Mason, we were together for 3 years. We met whilst I was in University in London. We hit it off straight away, and I instantly feel in love with him. When he moved to Manchester it did become harder and put a strain on our relationship as University had finished and I moved back to (your hometown). Due to the distance, Mason asked me to move in. Of course I jumped at the chance, but I was worried as I would be so far away from my family.

When we moved in that’s when things starting to go wrong, we went public so I was receiving a lot of hate from his fans. I didn’t look like a WAG, I wouldn’t say I was ugly but I wasn’t in the same league as some of these girls. I wasn’t as skinny and I was more natural, that’s what mason said he loved about me. There was loads of cheating rumours going round, which made us argue, I trusted Mason but of course I was insecure. Then Mason’s injuries came and the hate was directed at it him. We argued more then we didn’t it started to become toxic. That’s when we found out we were having a baby. That put even more pressure on the situation, we didn’t even know if we wanted to be together, I spent nearly every night crying and those nights I didn’t Mason wasn’t home. I wanted to be with him more then everything, but the pressure of everything got too much. We decided to call it when I was 6 months pregnant. We sat down and had an adult conversation, the first time in ages we actually spoke and didn’t shout at eachother. We decided it was the best thing to do for the baby’s sake, we both brought up with a stable family and we wanted our baby to have that. We both cried that night, and believe me all I wanted was Mason to wrap me up and tell me everything is going to be okay and beg me not to leave, but he agreed and let me go, I think that hurt even more.

Mason was amazing since the breakup, we were constantly talking and facetiming. We spent more time communicating since I moved back home then we did when we were together. He was so supportive and made so much more of an effort. It made me fall in love with him all over again, but I had to tell myself that he didn’t want me otherwise he would of fought harder so we just had to focus on being the best parents to out child. He ensured he came to all the scans and appointments, he made the 3 hour travel each time to ensure he attended them all, he said he didn’t want to miss a moment of it. We wanted to wait and see the gender of the child as we both agreed it would be more magical on the day. I know Mason secretly wanted a boy.

My heart melts as I look at Elijah, knowing how much he is loved by Mason and I and both sets of families warms my heart. It flashes my mind back to the day he was born 2 years ago. I had intense pains the day before, I quickly ran Mason and explained that the contractions are here, it was the early afternoon before a game so he was insisting on coming down but my midwife said as its my first it could take hours as my waters hasn’t broken.

Mason scored a goal and assisted in another I was so proud of him, he rang me as soon as he was back inside the tunnel. I explained I was only 3 cms dilated and they sent me home and just to monitor the contractions and to come in when they are closer apart and more intense. Mason insisted on staying on the phone with me the whole time so he could monitor how the contractions are. When he got like 30 mins away we agreed that I really should go to the hospital as they got closer together and a lot more intense. Mason said he would meet me at the hospital as it would make it quicker and my parents drove me.

Mason paid for me to have a private room so we would have privacy, he came running into the room still in his football kit. “Jheez are you trying to cause attention” I say laughing through the pain. “I didn’t get time to get changed, I have an emergency baby kit in my car with spare clothes though so I will get changed in a min I just wanted to see how you are feeling”. He came running straight over to me and held my hand and gave me a reassuring smile. God I love that smile. “I scored a goal for you”. He smiled the biggest smile he was so proud of himself. “I know you did, me and bubba are so proud”. He pulled my chin up so we were eye to eye, and he placed a small kiss on my lips. “Now y/n lets have a baby”.

The pain was excruciating and the midwife confirmed I was too far along to have the epidural, I cried in Mason’s arms “Please Mase, make it stop I cannot do it. I cannot do it Mase, I am so sorry please I cannot do it”. I can feel myself sweating and my hair is all stuck to my face from the mix of the sweat and the tears coming down my face. Mason kept running his fingers through mine and kissing my forehead. “Come on baby, yes you can you doing amazing”. I kept pushing whilst Mason gave me words of encouragement. Elijah was finally born at 3am. When the nurse said it was a boy, I watch as Mason shreds a tear as I know that’s what he was hoping for. “He is so perfect, I am so proud of you. Thank you giving him to me”. Once the nurse left and I got all cleaned up, we got to have a moment with just 3 of us before all the families came in. We both sat in silence looking at baby Elijah in my arms, “he is your double”, I say looking at Mason. Which Mason nods agreeing. Mason looks into my eyes and places a kiss to my lips, it was a passionate deep kiss. “Thank you for giving me the most incredible thing y/n, I will love him more then words can say, and I will always love you for bringing him into this world, you did incredible”. We were in complete baby bliss.

Mason was an amazing dad, and we co-parent well. It makes everyone ask what happened between us because we were so amazing together and there was always banter and a connection between us. Looking at it from the outside perspective I have no idea why we are not together, there are so many feelings between us both, but Mason never makes a move and keeps us in the co-parenting zone as I do not think he thinks about me in that way, so I guess that’s where we will stay. We are always going out on days out with Mason’s family and Mason, we generally act like family, but inside my heart is broken knowing Mason will never want us to be that again.

I am getting ready for Elijah’s 2nd birthday party, I am so excited all his friends are coming as well as my family, and Mason’s family. Mason had hired a venue in London with a massive garden, as his birthday is in April is a lovely spring day so lots of activities for the children and agreed if its in London then its central for all sets of families to attend. I had no idea what to wear, I decided to wear a blue spring dress and matched it with some healed sandals and curled my hair. My make-up was subtle but I think I loved quite pretty but I was still insecure about my mum body, but today was about Elijah not me.

The party went by well, I watched as the guests turned up and Elijah seemed like it had the best time. He had his hair jelled, and had a pair of jeans and a shirt on which were already ruined 2 hours into the party. I am walking around socialising with others and thanked them for coming. That’s when I bumped into Mason, I watched as his face light up when he saw me, I felt myself blush too. “Hey y/n, I am so sorry I have been socialising thanking everyone for coming. How you doing?”. He came round and embraced me in a hug which I melted into. “Honestly its fine, I have been doing the same. Thank you for arranging all this he looks like he has been having the best day! I cannot believe we have a 2 year old where has that time gone?”. Which we both turn to look at Elijah, “I know right it feels like yesterday when he was born, I think I am still recovering from how hard you were holding my hand”. Mason chuckles. “You wanna push a human out of your body you lucky I didn’t break your hand for doing that to me”. Which we continue to laugh and talk.

That’s when I feel an arm around my waist as I turn my head I instantly notice who that is. Daniel. Shit I didn’t get time to speak to Mason about it. That’s when Daniel opens his mouth “Hey baby, sorry I am late. I just saw Eli he looks like he is having the best time! Damn look at you” Daniel looks me up and down and makes me do a little twirl “you look fit. Doesn’t she look fit mate”. He turns to Mason and goes to shake his hand. I can tell by the confusion on Mason’s face he is not impressed but he nods to agree “yeah she looks beautiful.” Mason replies which gives me butterflies. “Sorry I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself I am Daniel. Its nice to meet the famous Mason Mount after all this time, y/n has told me so much about you. Eli is incredible you are a very lucky man”. Mason nods and mutters the word thank you, I can tell he is trying to work out who Daniel is but I can tell he is nervous about the answer. That’s when I step in with introductions, “This is Daniel, we have been seeing eachother on and off for a little while, but we went official a couple of months ago,”. Mason looked down, I feel awful that’s not how I wanted to tell him, I just haven’t found the right time. “Well okay then, well enjoy the party mate. I best go and mingle”. He replies and quickly escorts himself.

Daniel turns me to him and I wrap my arms around his neck “I missed you, you look amazing! Mason didn’t look to impressed” making a little smirk. “Well I haven’t found the right time to tell him and I think his sons 2nd birthday party was probably not the best time.”  To that Daniel placed a long kiss to my lips. I can see Mason’s family watching me, his mum knew as I told her a couple of weeks ago when I went out for lunch with his mum and Elijah but I do not think anyone else knew. As I pull away from the kiss, I can see Mason watching me from afar, I never wanted to hurt him.

“I am going to pop to the toilet, you all okay?” I say to Daniel as I am wrapped in his arms, “no worries baby and of course I am okay I am with you and our beautiful boy”. I didn’t want to correct him and say that Elijah isn’t ‘our’ boy he is ‘my’ boy as he was being cute. Mason was now standing closer so I really hoped he didn’t hear that as I know that would hurt him. I give Daniel one more kiss on the lips as I make my way inside.

As I come out the toilet I see Mason standing in the hallway, I am assuming he was waiting for me. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Mason asks, I am not sure what to say as honestly I was just scared. “There was never a good time, everytime we saw eachother it always went so well and I didn’t want to start an argument. I don’t know Mase, maybe I was a little scared I didn’t know how you would take it”. Mason looks down I can tell he is upset with this, but we haven’t been together in over 2 years I cannot stay single forever. “I heard him say ‘our’ son, does Eli think he is his dad, or does he act like his dad?” I can hear a little bit of jealously and hurt in his voice when he is asking this. “No mase, Eli knows you are his dad and knows Daniel is just a friend of mine for now that’s how we leave it. Honestly Mase there are no hard feelings are there?”.  I see Mason trying to give me a smile but I can tell he is upset, which is really weird as he hasn’t made a move with me? “Of course not, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I can’t say I am not disappointed in seeing someone get to have a part that used to be mine but as long as he treats you and Eli right then I am more then happy, I am just gutted you know I never got my chance to make us a proper family, I never got another chance with you”. I am shocked at this statement as Mason never made a move to become anything more then co-parents. We had our little kisses every now and then, and there was that time last year when Mason came round to see Eli and once he gone to bed, Mason and I got drunk and we ended up sleeping together, but the next day he acted like nothing happened and he never made any other advances or declarations of love so why is this all coming out now? I am a little angry if I am being honest. “What are you talking about Mase? Saying that you never got a chance with me? You never tried to have a chance with me? I love you Mason and I always will but you never made me feel like you felt the same, or made any actions to move the relationship forward, so what the hell are you talking about”. Mason now looks into my eyes, I can see the confusion on his face. “I wrote you that letter y/n, I literally confessed my whole entire love to you and you ignore it and acted like nothing happened so I am assuming  you didn’t want to take the relationship to that level. Wait you still love me?”.

Mason closes the gab between us, we both now confused at the conversation, “What letter? What the hell are you talking about-“ We are suddenly interrupted by his mum walking through the hall way. “Ahhh there you both are, we have been looking everywhere for you both. We are going to do Elijah’s cake.” I nod at Debbie and explain that we are coming. I turn to Mason as we are walking back outside, we both give eachother a look as to say we will discuss this later.

People start saying their goodbyes from the party as I am starting to clear everything up, I see Daniel coming over to me from across the room and instantly puts his arms to my hips. I do not relax into the gesture like I usually do, I am on edge about what Mason said, what letter was he talking about? Daniel pulled me out of my thoughts “I am so sorry baby, the hospital called I got to go. Did you want me to wait for you so I can drop you and Eli home? But I really need to go now so its really upto you?” this is when I see Mason but into the conversation which I can see on Daniel’s face he is not too impressed. “Honestly mate go, we still got quite a lot to sort out here so I will drop y/n home honestly”. I can see Daniel’s hesitation, but I am on board with this as I need to speak to Mason. “Honestly baby go, as Mason said I need to finish off some bits here and do not want to hold you up. I will see you tonight yeah” Daniel nods and places a kiss to my cheek, I can feel Masons daggers even with my eyes closed. “I love you” Daniel says, “I love you too”. I whisper to him being careful of Mason’s feelings.

We finished tidying up and loaded all of Elijah’s present into Mason’s car, “Are you sure you are okay dropping us home because its like 40 mins into the wrong direction?”, “of course its honestly no problem at all”. The drive home was silent as Elijah feel asleep in the car, which wasn’t surprising as he didn’t have a nap today and all the excitement from the party, but we didn’t talk the whole way, that always was our problem was communication. As we pull into the street, I ask Mason “did you want to come inside?” in which Mason shakes his head in reply “I do not think that’s a good idea”. I look down as I can feel my heart hurting I was hoping Mason would come inside. I guess I will have to talk to him there, I need answers.

“What letter are you talking about Mason? You never left me a letter?”, Mason looks angry at the reply as in I am talking the piss out of him. “I wouldn’t just make up leaving you a letter y/n. You remember the day we went to the zoo?” I reminisce of that day, the days leading up to it were perfect, me and Mason were basically acting like a family with Eli, we spoke nearly every moment of every day, he was constantly came round the house. That was the time I had hope for our relationship. We ended up going to the zoo with his parents, his brother Lewis, Sister Jaz and the girls. We were like one big happy family, it was like me and Mason were a couple, it was the day before he went away on pre-season training. I quickly snap myself out of the memory to listen to Mason. “Well that evening, after I dropped you and Eli home, I left a letter I wrote on the table. I wrote it months before that but I always chickened out actually given it to you. I wrote about how much I love you, and how I want to make it work again, how I want us to be a proper family. But then I went on pre-season training and everytime we spoke you never mentioned the letter so I just thought you read it and didn’t know what to say, that you didn’t want me back.”

I can see the hurt in Mason’s eyes, I think I can see tears starting to well up in his eyes. “But I never saw the letter Mase”. Mason now looks confused, “I literally left it on the table, I left it where you would see it. I made sure to leave it right in sight.” Now everything is running through my head, I never saw a letter? Wait.. “Daniel” I say, “I’m Mason not Daniel but cheers” he said sarcastically. “I know that dickhead, I mean that night after the zoo Daniel came round. He must of moved the letter”. I can see the anger in Mason’s face. “Do you really think Daniel would of moved the letter and not given it to you? Because believe me y/n if he is the reason I haven’t got to be a family with the love of my life, he is going to feel the wrath of Mason Mount.” I giggle a little at this, but I quickly settle my face to a straight expression when I see Mason isn’t joking, “please Mason you couldn’t hurt a fly. But wait I am the love of your life?” I can feel myself blushing. “This is not the point of this conversation y/n has that dickhead been fucking with my family?” I can see this conversation is starting to get heated which I want to stop now before Elijah wakes up, we always ensure he never saw us argue. “Let me speak to Daniel tonight, lets not jump to conclusions yeah. Everything will be okay, let me figure out what has happened then we can go from there”. I place a small kiss to Mason lips, I knew I shouldn’t of as I have Daniel its just when I am around Mason I am weak.

I am pacing around the flat, anxiously waiting for Daniel to get home, as soon as he walks into the house he can sense the tension as much as I can. He looks at me worried as to what has happened. “Whats wrong baby?” he asks unsure if he wants to know the answer. I gesture to him to sit down next to me. “You know we said we would never lie to eachother?” I ask which Daniel nods in agreement. “What happened to the letter?” I can see Daniel’s eyes go wide as to know he has been caught but he still tries to act dumb. “What letter?” I shake my head to him as I am not in the mood for bullshit. “You know what I am talking about Daniel, the night we officially got together and gave ourselves the label, that night you came round. There was a letter on my table what did you do with it?” I can see Daniel looks uncomfortable with this conversation, but I hope he just gives in and tells the truth. “Okay.. I just needed you to give me a chance. You always said when you and Mason were together it was toxic. When I came over that night as you were putting Eli to bed I saw the letter. I assumed it was from him as I know you guys were out all day. I read the letter about how he loved you and wanted you guys to be a family again. I knew if you would of read it, you would of chosen him and never would of given me a chance to show what me and you could be. Look how happy we are y/n.” I can feel tears running down my face but they are tears of anger. “The problem is Daniel is that it is my choice to make not yours. I deserved to read that letter and make my own mind up not for you to decide what to do for me.” Daniel comes closer and tucks a strand of hair behind my ears “I am sorry y/n I just needed a chance to show you how much I love you”. I nod as I know he didn’t mean it in any horrible way the problem is, is that I deserved to know what Mason wrote. “I need some space” I say to Daniel, which I can tell he is hesitating “please take as much space as you need. Just please remember how much I love you”.

Once Daniel leaves I don’t know where my head is at, I understand that Daniel wanted to be with me and I do love him, but I am angry at him for not giving me that letter. I deserved to make my own choices and he took that away from me. I quickly ring me friend and asked if she could look after Elijah for me which she confirmed and made her way over.

Next thing I know I am on my way to Mason, as soon as I rang his doorbell I wanted to run back home, but its too late now. The whole drive there everything was running through my head. I didn’t know what I was doing. As soon as I saw Mason’s face I got butterflies, it was like the first time we met. “y/n/n what you doing here? Is Eli okay?” I can see the panic on his face. “Of yeah Eli is fine I um I wanted to speak to you about that letter? Are you free?”.

“I am always free for you”. Mason smiles and opens the doorway and invites me in, he offers me a drink and we settle on the sofa. “so what did Daniel say?”. I was scared about how he is going to react to the answer. “He said that he was worried that if I saw the letter, that I would end things with him and choose you, so he hid the letter. I am so sorry Mason I didn’t know that was going to happen, you know if I read that letter things probably would have been a lot different, but Mase I didn’t read the letter and I have now created this relationship with Daniel so I do not know what to do. My head is all over the place.” At this I break and start crying, I am struggling to control my breathing. Mason moves himself closer to me from across the sofa and wraps me up in his arms and lets me cry. “Come on y/n/n its okay, come on wipe these tears”. He cups my hand and wipes the tears staining my cheek. “y/n look at me”. In which I look up into his eyes, which breaks my heart more, he has the most gorgeous eyes.

“it just hurts Mason, because all I ever wanted was for us to get back together and be a family for Eli. Now the whole time this could of happened. But at the same time there is Daniel involved I just do not want to hurt anyone”. I continue to cry into Mason, which I can feel his grip tightened around me as a sign of comfort. “ Look baby girl its all your choice. I want you y/n, you are the most beautiful girl inside and out, you are perfect in every way and the most incredible mum. Eli is the luckiest boy alive, but its also your choice. Whatever you have created with this Daniel if he is guy you want then I will accept that and we can continue with how we are the moment. I just want the chance to say I love you y/n, I always have and I always will.”  I can feel my heart melt, Mason was always my weakness. “Just answer me one question y/n.. do you love him?” in which I nod in reply. “and then do you love me?” which I also nodded to reply as I couldn’t get my words out. “Well then you have a bit of a dilemma there then baby.” I start trying to control my breathing so I can get my words out. “Can I ask you something Mase?”.

Mason agrees to my question and allows me to get it out, which took a couple of attempts, “have you got with anyone you know since we haven’t been together?”. I can see Mason’s face relax as if I was going to ask a harder question. “I dated a couple of girls but nothing major, everytime I thought they were just not for me, they weren’t you. All I ever wanted was you y/n/n”. I don’t even know what to say to that comment. “Where did we go so wrong Mase, we used to be so happy then it got so bad. But look at us now, why couldn’t we be like that back then”.

“I don’t know, maybe it was right person wrong time? The stress of everything at that time got to us. I promise you though if you decide to choose me then I will never let that happen again. It will be me, you and Eli against the world.” At that last comment I left myself leaning into Mason, he looked between my eyes and my lips and then next thing you know we are kissing. I deepen the kiss which Mason allowed entrance for my tongue. Then I suddenly realise what I was doing “Wait we cannot do this. I am still technically with Daniel. Until I decide what to do we cannot do this.”

Mason backs away and gives me space understanding that I am not a cheater.

Masons POV

I watch as you explain that you need to go home now as you need to think about a decision. You explained how your head is all over the place. I can watch the tears falling down your cheek which is making my heart break. I always hated when you cried. As I am showing you out, I watch as you are hesitating. All I want is for you to stay and choose me but at the same time I know you need to have some space to think this through. As you are trying to say goodbye, all I can think about is continuing that kiss. The next moment I am running across the room to the door, cup both of your cheeks in my hands and place a hard kiss to your lips. You do not pull away which I think is a good sign. As we both pull away I explain “Just in case you choose him, I had to feel your lips one more time”. You give me a small smile back, “no matter who I choose Mase. I always will love you”. I can feel myself welling up trying hard not to break as you say goodbye.

As I watch you get into the car with tears flowing down your cheeks, it reminds me of the night we broke up. That was the worse night of my life, I have never been so heart broken. I cannot believe Daniel never gave you that letter. I was so angry, we could have been a couple right now, and because of that you do not even know if you are choosing me, you may choose to stay with Daniel. I do not think I will be able to cope.

I had to call my mum and explain everything, “I thought you were both acting weird near the end of the party. I said to Lewis I thought I interrupted something when I caught you in the hallway” she says. I explain how much I love her which my mums keeps reassuring me that you are going to choose me but the thought of it makes me worry, everything is running into my head right now.

I try to sleep that night but all I can think about is you, I keep looking through all the photos we have together and makes me want you more. We can be a proper family, but at the same time we were so toxic near the end, the more I think, the more I think you are going to choose Daniel.

I am woken up by the sound of the phone ringing, when I see your name popping up with the picture of you and Elijah. You really are the most beautiful girl. I then see the time it was 4am but I quickly answer it “hey Mase I am so sorry to wake you”. I quickly respond “honestly its fine whats wrong” I am a bit worried now her calling me at this time. “I called it with Daniel, I want you Mason its always been you. I am sorry there was never really any question, the whole ride home all I could think about was that kiss. I want you Mase, I need you. I want us to be a proper family”. I can feel my whole heart beating quickly. “y/n that is the best news ever! I will come to you now.” I just want to wrap you up in my arms.

“Don’t be silly Mase, not at this time. How about me and Eli come down tomorrow we can watch your game then come stay at yours tomorrow. I know Eli would love that”. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach. “I would love that more then you will ever know”.

We continue to talk for another 20 mins then I can hear you yawning on the phone, so I agree you should go. “I love you Mase”, “I love you more y/n”. As soon as we hang up I place my head down on the pillow. I can feel my heart melting at thought of you. I cannot believe we are going to be a proper family, I finally have the love of my life back.

[zyafics]

okay okay i got it. someone asked me about my thoughts on rafe and how i would’ve gone with his arc, i think i know a way that would’ve satisfy his character conclusion.

starting from the very beginning, in s1, i would’ve established this rivalry with sarah and rafe. not necessarily hostile or explicit, but it’s just demonstrated throughout little acts. ward wants to raise his children to be upstanding citizens of kildare, it would make sense if he imbedded in their mind to gain his favor. however, rafe always had to work harder than sarah to gain the favor. we don’t know exactly why—it’s because he’s a boy, or because sarah looks like their mom, or perhaps sarah is just his little princess thst can do no wrong—but overall, it was always harder for rafe to earn his father’s validation. he always had to fight for it, to beg for it. and his anger is never channeled productively, so he ventures it out on people who can’t fight back against him (systematically). this being the pogues.

from there on, rafe would be searching for ways to win in ward’s favor. it isn’t until he killed peterkins—in his mind, again, for ward—that it shifts the dynamic. ward may be a horrible father, but at the end of the day, he’s a father and he’ll do anything to protect his children. this is proven especially in s2 when rose asked ward to give up rafe and he refused. however, the extent he would go to protect his children, ward issues that burden onto rafe. like in the show, sarah would follow the pogues and john b, while leaving rafe behind. i feel like this would ease him into a descend of madness, especially because he’s facing abandonment from his sister—his rival. of course, he likes it at first—he gets all of his father’s attention and concern, but slowly, he slowly hates it because sarah will continue to haunt their lives despite having left it. this would’ve driven him mad. this would’ve explained a lot why he was willing to take sarah out. the resentment, the anger, the frustration that as long as she’s alive, she’ll continue to be a problem for rafe, a reminder for ward, rafe takes the ruthless step to try to kill her. and he almost succeed. but he somehow he didn’t. got snapped out of. someone saved sarah, idk. overall, the ending of s2’s rafe would’ve been satisfied when he tried to drown sarah.

in s3, i think this is when the hesitation sets in. where rafe is trying to step out of his own, remember his own guilt and regret. he’s away from all of that treasure hunting business, he can actually sit and think to himself and he hates it. in s2 he was constantly running, constantly doing, that he didn’t need to think. now, as time slows, he has to reconcile with who he becomes. who he is. and as much as he hates sarah—or so he believed himself to hates sarah, groomed by ward’s parenting—he can’t live with the idea that he almost kills her. however, i would make rafe and the pogues to have an conflict again. settling on rafe’s want over the pogues’ needs. maybe it’s one last chance to prove to his father—to actually make something of himself without his father’s help and handout. and this is when he collides with his sister. the anger. the frustration. all those buried emotions comes back tenfold. especially now that sarah is actively against him. rather than rivaling him—it’s his complete opposite. i can see the pogues “winning” this season, but this leads rafe to have the open shot of killing sarah. to eliminate her once and for all. but he doesn’t. the gun was raised but was lowered. he hesitated. and he comes to terms with the fact that he would’ve be willing to be the brother who killed his sister—twice—for what? this is when he has to set himself on a path of true self-discovery. to truly figure it out.

s4 would’ve followed him figuring it out. to actually step out of ward’s shadows. unfortunately, i don’t think he could’ve done that while ward is still alive, so i would also kill him off. it’s necessary for rafe’s growth. i think, shifting this, rafe actually has the opportunity to be who he always dreamed to be—his father. to become the embodiment of his father, to chase the validation by becoming him. and he struggles with it. because he doesn’t know if he shares his fathers’ exact views. he doesn’t know who he is at the end of the day. lots of soul-searching. lots of making mistakes and wrong turns he believed would’ve made ward proud but made him empty. then sitting at tannyhill alone, with no living parent, with no remaining family (ok wheezie is gone for this entire thing ok), i could see rafe actually realizing that he can’t function without sarah. in a way. and when she turns up to him, or somehow they collide, and needs help. he has the option to turn her away or save her. and for once, he chooses to save her. and help her. and they start to slowly build up to rekindling their broken relationship from there.

i don’t know exactly how s5 would go, but i know rafe’s arc would be settled by this: rafe’s entire life had been a prop to be rivaled against sarah’s. to be against sarah. to fight sarah for approval. and all of that should’ve manifest into resentment. into anger. into jealousy and envy and death. but it isn’t. because ward no longer has control on who rafe is. and rafe makes the final decision, the only decision of his own, to see sarah as his companion. to work with sarah rather than against her. to protect her. to actually take care of her. all of these ideologies and conditioning ward administered onto rafe, slowly unravels by his own hands, his own choosing, when he makes—and continues to make—the active choice of protecting his sister than hurting her.

okay, i’m done. it’s 2am goodnight 🙂‍↕️

[redsrooftopprincess]

Sunglasses

Mid-Teen Turtles, Bro fic

Warnings: Autistic Character, Emotional Overwhelm, Guns, Eyes

Headcanons: Autistic Donnie, Donnie and Raph are twins (You can thank @the-cauldron-witch for this one. She said it and now it's forever in my brain)

"Just give them to me!"

"No! Hell no! I found em!"

"I know you f-" Donatello sighs, removes his glasses, and rubs his eyes, losing patience with his twin. "I know you found them, I just want to modify them a little."

It's not like he doesn't get it. The sunglasses are a big deal. But with Raph deciding he's going to be the one to punch first and not really bother with questions, his eyes need more protection than anyone's. Even outside of combat. More than once, he's found himself on the wrong end of some scared human's can of mace.

"Raph, they're plastic, if they shatter, that plastic is going in your eyes." Donnie insists.

"And if you're the one that shatters em, ain't gonna be no 'if' about it. No Donnie. I'll take my chances." Raphael storms off to his room, taking the glasses with him.

Three hours later, while his brother is sleeping, Don takes them anyway.

It's an act of sacrilege in this home, to take something like this. Something important. Practical and that fits them perfectly. He understands what this means. They don't have much, to put it very gently, so what little they have, what little they can find, and scavenge, and build themselves, is sacred.

But he hates it. Every time Raph throws himself into the meat grinder. Raph's eyesight is decent, and Donnie has a vested interest in making sure it stays that way. They've had so many talks about defensive equipment for his eyes that just end in Raph storming off. But he keeps trying. He has to.

The last attempt, involved trying to convince Raphael to let him build him goggles, but even for someone with a total of three other creatures on the planet to compare himself to, Raphael is vain. They all are, in a way, about certain things. Donnie gets it. They have no control over the fact that they aren't human, so what they *can* control about their bodies is important.

They had found them last night, attached to a discarded sporting goods mascot. They were scuffed and had a crack in them, but holy shit they fit! A pair of glasses that fits that Raphael is willing to wear. Donnie was excited! Finally!

He works through the day, and as expected, Donatello is informed the moment his brother wakes up by way of his name thundering through the lair in a rage. The glasses are not on the nightstand where Raph had left them.

Don winces, thankful to whatever power ensured he finished the project by nightfall, and tenses as he hears his brother storming towards the lab. If Raph had woken up half an hour before, he would have come in to see them in pieces, and would have *properly* freaked out. At least Donnie has a chance of talking him down now that they're finished and functional.

Don takes a deep breath and stands, preparing for the onslaught. When his brother comes into the room, his open hands are up in a placating gesture, "Okay, I know what you're gonna say and-"

"What the fuck Donnie?" He roars, backing his brother into one of the steel tables in the lab. "Where the fuck are they?"

"I promise, they're fine, I just wanted to-"

A soft, familiar sound rings through the air like a gunshot, freezing both of them, as their father clears his throat. He waits patiently for an explanation.

"I found some glasses yesterday, Dad. Ones that actually fit, and he took em for some fu-" Raphael chokes on the almost swear when his father raises an eyebrow, and clears his throat before continuing, "some science experiment."

Their father narrows his eyes at Donatello, who has the good sense to look ashamed. "Dad, if Raph is gonna be wearing them out on the street, I don't want them to break and hurt his eyes. I just wanted to make them stronger. That's all." He says, resisting the urge to shoot an annoyed look at his thick headed brother.

"Did you ask your brother if he would allow this?"

"Yes, Father."

"Did he offer them to you?"

Don hesitates and his father waits, "Well... No... but-"

"I told him no. I specifically told him no," Raphael cuts in. Splinter shoots him a look and he shuts up.

"But I just wanted them to actually protect his eyes! They were a time bomb! If he got hit in the face, he was gonna go blind!"

"Were?! Where the fuck are they, Donnie?" He demands, not even registering the swear word. He looks around and spots them on the work bench. Walking over, he snatches them up.

They look... exactly the same. Only they're heavier.

"I gave them a steel core and shatter proofed the lenses," Donnie snaps, only a little bitterness coming through, "you're welcome."

Raphael wants to be grateful, he really does. They're fine. Better than fine. In addition to the practical changes, his brother had gone so far as to buff out some of the scratches and they looked almost new. But the adrenaline from potentially losing something precious is still coursing through his veins and he's still angry at the violation. He doesn't look up.

"Was there a chance, Donatello," their father asks after a moment, "that in an effort to improve these glasses, you could have broken them beyond repair?"

"Well, I mean, there's always a chance of that happening," he admits, "...but I was careful!" he almost whines.

"Then you will spend the next hour in the hashi while you think of a way to apologize to your brother," Splinter looks at Raphael, "is this acceptable to you?"

Raph glares at him, silent, and nods.

They avoid the topic of the glasses altogether over the next week. Tempers wane, and Donnie serves his punishment, spending 20 hours of his lab time helping Raph with the Motorcycle he's been trying to build. The incident isn't mentioned again.

It's Wednesday night and they're downtown shutting down a gang fight. Pretty normal for this part of town. They thought they'd disarmed all of them first thing, standard protocol. They must have missed one.

The shot rings out, and Raph goes down, hands over his eyes.

Donnie takes out the last three, including the shooter, and sprints to his brother's side. Removing Raphael's hands from his face, they find the bullet stuck in one of the lenses. The glass is broken, but the shatterproof coating kept the shards together and out of Raph's eye.

They look up at each other, shocked at the close call, and Donnie tries *really* hard not to look smug. They make their way home soon after.

After showering and getting ready to sleep for the day, Raph wanders down to the lab.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

Donnie looks up from the graphics card he's repairing and turns around in his chair. He nods.

"Sorry I gave you such a hard time about... you know. I know you were just trying to help."

"Dude, no," Donnie says, "You and Dad were right, what I did wasn't okay. It's just..." He sighs, "You're always the first one in, you know, and- I mean, you're right in the middle of everything... If you suddenly can't see... It's just, not being able to see sucks..." Donnie tries really hard to fight the overwhelm. Tapping the desk to keep himself grounded. This is important, damn it. If he loses it, this conversation is going nowhere

He's tried, he's tried before, but the thought of losing his twin terrifies him. His brother is reckless, and it's Donnie's job to make sure that doesn't get him killed.

He clenches his fists, his voice shutting down. Fuck. His jaw tightens and tears of worry and frustration prickle behind pleading eyes that meet Raphael's. He hopes his brother understands. He usually does. Emotions are hard for Donnie, expressing them, doubley so.

"Okay, how 'bout this," Raph offers, letting him off the hook. He tosses Donnie one of the small, metal brain teaser puzzles on his desk, "I'll agree to hear you out when it comes to my shit, as long as you don't just take it to play with. Deal?"

"Cool. Now," Raph says, pulling the glasses out of his pocket. He'd left the bullet in. It looked cool. "There something we can do about this?"

Don nods emphatically, eyes on the puzzle.

Donnie looks up as the metal rings fall apart in his hands and nods, smiling, "I have a few ideas..."

....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[sepublic]

I don’t think the time loop devalues Luz not having a natural destiny as established in Witches before Wizards, because there’s no higher power deciding what Luz’s life and presence means for her; There’s no actual God designing Luz as a savior before she’s born, it’s just the laws of physics preventing a paradox. A Puritan delusional about predestination tells Luz that it’s her ‘destiny’ to meet him, but she dismisses this as balderdash, which seems to me a deliberate acknowledgment by the writers.

Luz’s lesson in the second episode was that she wasn’t going to have an empowering good destiny that would give her everything she wanted like she hoped for; Similarly, King wanted to have been special, decided he didn’t care for that, only to be a Titan after all and find misery in the fact.

And the time loop for Luz was one of the worst, most traumatic revelations she’s ever had, it’s a core factor into her suicidal depression, motivates her into almost sacrificing her dream and happiness out of guilt, the exact opposite of justifying it. It’s something Luz has to build herself back up from, in spite of not because. There’s nuance and irony. Because if Luz’s destiny as defined by Belos is to help him hunt witches by bringing him to the Collector, Luz defies this bad destiny by saving the isles instead.

Because Luz decides what her destiny is; Luz decides what she’s here in the isles for, it’s what Eda tells her when explaining that she’s no chosen one, in the same speech where Luz decides to make her fantasy happen instead of waiting for it to be decided by another. She literally made her destiny by starting the time loop with Lilith.

Luz has to be her own kind of witch, she has to choose for herself whether to stay or leave. The Titan is just some dude can’t decide for Luz if she accepts his power and becomes the chosen one she worked to become, she has to choose and keep choosing.

Even the time loop, as Luz chooses to engage with it, goes against what Belos claims she’s meant for; Luz is also choosing to help and uplift a witch that Belos hates, and when the conflict is done, uses her last hours in the past to help Lilith self-actualize. It’s not her cursed fate to destroy everything she touches in both the isles and the human world, Luz has done so much more good, and the good is something she chose to do, something she helped make happen in spite of the bad, with those who accepted her help.

Luz coming across the Portal was fate; Not in the sense that it was all planned out by some higher power. But that it’s coincidence, and it’s something Luz chooses to accept and make use of in her own way, for her own purposes. After fulfilling the time loop and having no more obligations to temporal physics, Luz still chose to go back, saving the isles not just once but a second time.

The ending of Elsewhere and Elsewhen is Lilith the witch reassuring Luz that she doesn’t need to emulate Philip the human to do what he does; Lilith being more correct than she imagined, because that human is the system Luz was trying to avoid following in the first place. She doesn’t need to be like Belos, believing God has a destiny for her, to be special. Belos was wrong, Luz did not arrive to play the role set out for her, she’s the disruptor she’s always been, rebelling against an ancestor of the system.

Because people decide, people assign meaning, people choose, there is no higher power to attribute things towards. It’s just people and coincidence, you determine but not in a Libertarian kind of way because everyone needs opportunities and chances, to be better or to be a witch, these are things that should also be given and they don’t have to pull themselves up by their bootstraps to receive. But they do have to accept.

[durtystars]

i agree with a lot, heavily on the fact that he was a good leader. one of the biggest arguments against him is that "he would get everyone killed" but.....he was already taking care of an entire group of people that were nearly 12 in number (if not that number in the first place) well before rick came into the picture. that reddit post could be right regarding the show, but the comic creator said that rick was asleep for an entire month (if not, i know it was said somewhere regarding the timeline of twd video games) so even if the show wanted to backtrack and say shane was a bad leader, they already showed literally in the first two episodes that start it off that he's not. in addition, if you read the official TV scripts of S1, in the scene of them in front of the lab and they don't have an answer after knocking on the door, daryl says "Everything was fine until this guy showed up." one of the weirdest and hardest things in twd to understand and accept was rick's sudden transferal of leadership, as if the group knew and trusted him better than shane the entire time. and during this time, rick is making horrible mistakes. but if you look in the deleted scenes of S1, rick heavily relies on shane for guidance on what to do, which ACTUALLY makes sense. i have no idea why these scenes were deleted. even if they were cut for time, they could have made some other scenes in S2 to show the rick/shane dynamic.

i don't agree that shane lied about rick. for one thing it doesn't make sense for him to save his life at the chance that he can come back and then lie about it, and as for why he never cleared it up is because he knew how bad it looked regardless, so he didn't bother. and of course as his character is deeply sensitive he was too ridden with guilt for loving lori so he let her believe it to make it easier to cut her out of his life.

i'm glad you brought up that shane always had rick's back. even in the scene when he had his gun pointed at him, i interpret it in the sense of him thinking of offing him because he's simply to weak for this world, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. i defend lori and give her a LOT of slack, but it must have been a special tormenting hell for him to face rick and her never supporting him when all he wanted was everyone to be safe. the rest of the group was affecting him as well, but lori and rick are something special to him, of course.

in my first watch (i think it was around covid days), i completely agreed with shane and was absolutely blown away that everyone was treating him like he was crazy. this was during the last stutter of the era of hating S2 as it was regarded as the most boring season, so when i looked around online to see if i was crazy i wasn't met with anything of the contrary. nowadays, S2 has been regarded in a much better light and has been for at least the past 2 years and while shane was always popular you definitely see more support of him in the ways of YT videos, and even if there's no support it's still in the breakdown of his character because he truly has so much to give as he is and through jon's performance.

i always say that while i believe S1 to be a masterful display of TV, S2 is the one that really brings out the discussion with the viewers. you said you couldn't watch shane's death scene, on my first time i couldn't either. i had no idea he even died because i was so outraged he was being isolated the way he was. i literally skipped up to the end of the episode because i was so adamant on his obvious road to death. so instead i turned all the way back to 2x1 and asked my mother to watch it with me, just to see how crazy i really was. that's why i say S2 is the one that actually brings out real discussion. my mother did agree with me, but we still had interesting conversations while watching it. i told her that she didn't need to watch the rest of the show with me, but she decided to stay for the rest of the journey (now she's watched the entire show and almost all the spinoffs and it's completely in love with the daryl show). but the thing is, as some of these things will go, my mother was telling what happened with me to my father, and so she convinced him to also watch S2, for which he stayed with for 6 more seasons. S1 is the one that pulls you in, but S2 is the one that makes you stay. and you are not going to convince me that it's not because of anything other than shane's character and jon's performance. we talk of shane very casually in the twd fandom, but in the outside of things he's a character that died in the second season of a 10+ season show and was barely mentioned again. and yet in this context, he's THE most talked about and relevant character in the franchise. the twd creator just talked about making a comic prequel surrounding him, lori and carl this year as well. no other character died as early as he did and have remained at such an impactful level, not a single one comes close.

now, me and my mother still rewatch S2, and find new realizations about his character. S2 is the most viewed, most rewatched and most discussed season in my house. every single time, it's brutal to see shane's degradation. and yet he became the groundwork of the show. he also still lives on in the characters. rick, daryl, carol and maggie are alive because of him. whether the writers mean it, whether the actors mean it or not, they have manifested his harsh way of living within them one way or another. and yes, carl is gone but he's still worth a mention as he voiced his mourning of him and how much he missed him. yes, i would prefer if shane stayed alive for at least one more season. but it's his leaving the show so soon that shows how much his presence stayed deep in the cracks of the show.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on why Shane is the best character in TWD 😊

Cause he's my baby and he's hot and I love him and that's good enough of a reason 😂 

But if you want something more logical, perhaps for a lot of reasons people tend to overlook… First, something that always bugs me is how little acknowledge there is of him actually stepping into the role of a leader for months before Rick showed up. As far as I know, no one in that group stepped in like he did. For the few interactions we saw, everyone would come to him for answers, and while he wasn’t always very diplomatic, he had good survival instincts and kept the group safe for months. Perhaps staying at the quarry wouldn’t have worked in the long run, but it was a plan nonetheless. 

He was right most of the time. He figured out pretty quickly how things were after the infection, and adapted a new mindset. He had to make tough decisions nobody was ready for yet, and maybe he pushed too hard instead of giving people time to get into that same headspace. And we see in later seasons that almost everyone thinks in a similar way Shane did, they just have different approaches. 

and it keeps going under the cut...

I recently saw a timeline in a subreddit or somewhere else that said the events from season 1 and 2 happened in the span of 2 or 3 weeks and that's crazy to me. So they were seemingly doing good, and they found Rick, everyone automatically herd to him, and everything until that point didn’t really matter anymore. That really pisses me off that he was just killed a few weeks later because they couldn’t sit down and talk things over. All and that, and despite him being driven for his misplaced love for Lori, he was still loyal to Rick in his own way. Did he question Rick’s leadership? Yes, countless times. Did he also follow his lead every single time? Also yes.

Which leads me to my next point. He also kept Rick safe. In the hospital flashback, he went in and saw what was happening and amidst all the chaos he still tried to get him out. When he couldn't, he did the only thing he could, he locked the door and barricade it. Did he know that would keep him safe? Probably no. He had absolutely no idea, but he was driven by getting them all out, and when he couldn’t get him out, he did the best he could to get Lori and Carl out of town. If he hadn't lied about Rick, Lori wouldn’t have agreed to leave him behind. Again, tough situations led to hard decisions.

And one of the hardest decisions he made was killing Otis to save Carl. He didn’t murder him in cold blood, he was with him until the end, killing him wasn’t something that crossed his mind until the very last second when he had no choice. If he hadn’t, Carl wouldn’t have gotten the care he needed. BUT people tend to paint him as a murderer for shooting him in the leg. It wasn’t right, but it was the only way out at that moment. I recently revisited one of my fics and wrote that Shane sacrificed his soul to saved Carl that day and I still agree with that. I don’t think he purposely hurt someone before unless he was defending himself. And from that moment on, you could see it changed him and didn’t know how to deal with that, which led him to his own demise.

Was he an asshole sometimes? Yes. Did he do or say things in a way I didn’t agree with? Yes. Did I ever want to slap him? Many times. But there was something about him, compared to other antagonists later on the show, that made him more realistic to me. He wasn’t driven by wanting to be right all the time or even being the leader. His misguided love for Carl and Lori, was at its core the things that he cared the most about and that he wanted to protect at all costs. And while I cared for neither, I think it was beautiful of him. 

I can never watch his last moments. For me, he got the right idea at the beginning of season 2 when started considering leaving the group on his own. I wish he had done that, even if that meant leaving the show. 

I’m probably forgetting something here cause I haven’t rewatched in years, but I think that’s it. Like I’ve said, I didn’t pay much attention to him the first time around, I did agree with him most of the time, it was his manners that left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t until my love for Frank got me to go back and watch some of his previous performances that I got to see Shane in a new light. 

In conclusion, he’s still the best character to me, and everyone should love him like I do. Or not. More Shane for me if you don’t. 

[didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live]

it’s done, so. /:

[salsflore]

[bi-panic-at-the-disco]

hahahahah hah