#tw: discussions of past cheating

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Tread lightly, folks. Discussions of past cheating, which is kinda par for the course for these two. Also, please keep in mind I do not condone Nancy’s actions in the least, nor do I fully believe Joyce has the best intentions for Nancy. It’s not conscious, mind you, but subconsciously, she’s always gonna want to her help kids first. Big gray area here.

Part 1 | . . . | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68

Joyce tugs Nancy in even more securely. “I know exactly what you mean. But no one here is like that. I think, this time around, he’s done an excellent job of surrounding himself with people who actually care about him.” She runs a hand over Nancy’s hair. “And you’re part of that group. Regardless of what you want to call what you feel for him, it’s obvious you care. It’s okay to need to take some time, but in the end, when you’re wondering what’s next, just remember he cares for you too.”

Nancy nods. “I think I do need some time,” she murmurs. “It just feels like he moved on so fast.”

“Because it’s not been as long for you,” Joyce nods. “I get it, honey. Take all the time you need. Want Jonathan to keep you company?”

Nancy looks at her. “D’you know who I cheated on Steve with?”

Joyce smiles softly at her. “I do. And trust me, I’d have something to say to him about it later if he’d known you two were still together.” She inclines her head toward Nancy, brows raised, gaze serious.

“Oh,” Nancy whispers, eyes dropping. “I didn’t know that.”

“Mhm. But it’s in the past—well, the future past, I guess—and you can take as long as you need, okay? But I do think someone deserves an apology.”

Nancy sighs. “You’re right.” She picks at the hem of her pants, then nods and stands up, hands on her hips. “I need time. But I need to apologize first.” She just as suddenly deflates, nerves coming in fast. “Will- will you come with me?”

Joyce smiles up at her. “Of course I will. C’mon.” She stands too and offers Nancy another hug, which she gratefully accepts. “I’m proud of you,” she murmurs.

“Thank you,” Nancy whispers, pulling back and squaring her shoulders as she stares at the house.

They walk up together but Joyce walks in first, Nancy following just behind. “Steve?” She asks timidly. “Can I talk to you?”

Robin and Allison both stiffen, but Steve waves them off as he gets up. “Outside?”

“Steve-” Allison starts, but he holds up a hand before turning to her.

“I’ll be fine,” he says softly. “We’re just gonna talk.”

He walks outside with her, Joyce hovering by the door, acting both as support and as a lookout.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy says forcefully, like it was pulled out of her. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset, you broke up with me, and you really didn’t owe me an explanation but you gave me one anyways, even if it hadn’t actually happened yet, but I… I got insecure. And jealous. So I’m sorry.”

Steve nods, shoves his hands in his pockets, looks down. Scuffs his shoe along the concrete. “I get why you’re upset,” he starts cautiously. “But I thought we were okay. And to find out we’re not…” he lets out a harsh breath. “I do still care for you, Nancy. You’re one of my best friends. But I think I’m gonna need some time for this one.”

Nancy looks down at her own feet, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t think I took as much time as I should’ve,” she admits. “Can you count me out of this one?”

Steve manages a smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“And-” she squeezes her eyes shut, lets out a shaky breath. “Jonathan too, maybe?”

“I-” Steve takes a breath, stops himself, looks wide-eyed at the ground before letting out a long, controlled breath. “Yeah. I can do that.” His words are barely a whisper, and he lets out another short, harsh breath before brushing past her. “Excuse me.”

He lets himself back inside, and Nancy stands there, wide-eyed, staring through the spot he’d been standing in.

Then, Nancy Wheeler breaks.

The tears come in strong and fast, and she’s crumbling where she stands before strong arms catch her. “It’s alright,” Joyce whispers in her ear. “It’ll be alright.”

She lowers them both to the ground and lays Nancy’s head on her shoulder.

“I- I don’t get it,” Nancy sobs. “I did the right th-thing and I f-feel terrible!”

Joyce hushes her. “I know, dear. Sometimes the right thing feels terrible in the moment, but is best in the long run.” She runs a hand over Nancy’s head. “Did you drive yourself?”

Nancy nods. “And M-Mike.”

“Okay. Do you think I could drive you home and Jon could follow in our car? That way he can stay with you and I can come back here.”

Nancy nods and look up at her. “C-can you m-make sure Steve’s okay?”

“Of course, dear. Come on, let’s get you home, okay? And I’ll even give you my mom’s recipe to heal a broken heart: a warm cup of tea, a good cry, and a good night’s rest.”

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[im-his-druidess]

The Deal

No one asked for this, but I needed something dark and gross 🤷‍♀️

TW: Dub-Con turned Non-Con; Infidelity; Cheating; Rough sex; Forced sex; Slight fuck-or-die but not really; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; Unnecessary amount of commas

Setting up the arrangement with Charlie Hewitt left a sour taste in your mouth at the way he openly leered at you the entire time, but you just kept thinking about finally going to bed with a full belly to get you through his poorly concealed innuendos and crass language. It wasn’t until you arrived at the Hewitt’s home, telling your husband you were walking to the next town for groceries as an excuse, that your plan began to crumble. The memory of Charlie’s words making fear squeeze your lungs and bile rising in your throat.

Just when you think you couldn’t feel even more worthless, here you were spreading your legs for a man that wasn’t your husband, all for the chance to get food on your table.

Your husband acted just as worthless as you currently felt and invited his parents to move into your already cramped house without discussing anything with you. Four grown adults living in a one-bedroom shack of a house, with your husband barely making enough money to feed you both let alone two more mouths, was enough to want to pull your hair out. Of course, it didn’t help that your mother-in-law found fault in every single thing you did which your husband agreed with to stay on his mother’s good side. Coupled with your in-laws living beyond their means, including gorging themselves on food that you managed to scrap together, which often left you going to bed hungry and riddled with anxiety. So, when you overheard the local gossip hounds whispering how the Hewitt family would give meat from their job at the slaughterhouse in exchange for favors, it didn’t take long for you to come to a steely resolve. It might have been the numerous days without a steady meal, or how you were belittled everyday at your home, that made you snap and jump at the chance.

‘As much as I want a piece of that pussy…I made a promise to my kin. Tommy’s birthday is coming up and it is far past time for him to become a man despite what mama says. So that’s who you’ll be fucking today. If you got a problem with that then you can fuck off.’

He was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it made your head spin.

Relief that you wouldn’t have to sleep with that disgusting excuse of a man making you giddy, before realization at his words struck you like white-hot lightening. You’ve only seen Tommy Hewitt once and the memory was seared into your brain.

You had come across him as he lumbered down the main road on his way home from the slaughterhouse and you were frozen in your tracks as his hulking form stalked past you. He was a large burly man, with broad shoulders, huge biceps, and thick thighs, and his dark shaggy hair didn’t hide the fact that he wore some type of leather mask on the lower part of his face.

He still wore his bloodstained apron.

You had reluctantly agreed once Charlie “sweetened” the deal by promising double the amount of food he would give. Now, here you were, propped up on a bench in the shed while listening to Charlie whisper harshly outside the door. From his tone it sounded like he was scolding someone, Tommy to be exact when you heard his slow heavy footsteps nearing the door, and you swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest the longer you had to wait. From the snippets you could hear it sounded like he was giving instructions and you grimaced when you heard him give vivid instructions on what to put in where.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Tommy came stumbling through the door looking exactly like you remember minus the apron. You realized his blunt appearance was because he was being pushed into the room. Charlie gave you a dirty lingering look, shaking his head with a wistful sigh, before slapping Tommy on a broad shoulder before ducking back out.

The door shut with a firm thud and then you were left alone with the behemoth.

Fear and anxiety once more rushed through you fast enough to make you lightheaded, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, and the man lingered almost awkwardly by the door. You dimly noticed that he kept his head down, stealing glances at you and your body through his curtain of hair, and you took a deep breath to gather your courage. The bench underneath you was hard and uncomfortable and you knew the sooner you got this over with the sooner you can go home and forget this entire thing.

With shaky hands you hiked up your skirt, removing your panties so they won’t get lost or ruined, and spread your legs. Your face burned in mortification at your actions, even more so when Tommy’s entire body jerked as if sucker-punched, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the way he openly stared between your legs with wide blue eyes. You fumbled with the small bottle of oil you brought with you, knowing you weren’t going to get properly wet enough to make things less painful, and you quickly waved Tommy over. He approached slowly as if you were going to bite before settling between your spread legs. With him so close you suddenly realized just how big he was, your thighs straining to accommodate the width of his hips, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a large heavy hand landed on your thigh. His skin was rough and overly warm, thick fingers digging into the meat of your thigh curiously, and you spotted his eyes darting over the rest of your body before settling back between your legs. Your nerves were starting to crumble at his slow pace so you reached down and began unbuckling his pants with trembling fingers.

His entire body tensed up and you mumbled a quiet apology, but your hands continued their work. You knew this was supposedly his first time, but you were anxious to get this over with. Tommy made a low grunting noise as he shuffled on his feet before you got his pants open and his entire body seemed to spasm when you reached into his pants to grab his dick.

You immediately paled at the sheer girth you encountered as you fingers weren’t even close to touching.

He was clearly proportionate to the rest of his body, but that also meant that he was hung like a fucking horse. You let go and fumbled with the vial of oil with a quick prayer for things to be over quickly. You ignored how he jerked his hips closer to you as if willing your hand back as he restlessly pushed his pants down with a grunt to offer you more room to touch him.

His cock stuck out just below his button-down shirt, almost drooping from the heavy weight, and the thick tip was an angry shade of red. You couldn’t help but compare him to your husband. He was larger in every single way, almost laughably so, and you had the brief thought of if you could even get that inside you. It twitched under your gaze. You looked away suddenly embarrassed and saw out of the corner of your eye his hips jerk once more towards you. You felt sweat pool at your lower back, the hot summer air doing nothing to cool you off despite being in shade, and you nervously wiped the sweat beading at your brow the back of your hand. You chided yourself and focused once more at the task at hand.

You poured a generous amount into your palm, nearly half the bottle, and steeled yourself before reaching down to coat him thoroughly. The sound he made didn’t seem human, the punched out garbled growl making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you held back your whimper of fright as he thickened even more in your grasp. You tried to not think of how you were going to struggle to take him into your body. You dropped him once he was completely coated and dumped more oil into your hand, steadfastly ignoring the way Tommy panted through his mask. You leaned back while taking a deep breath before reaching down and slathering yourself, working the oil into your cunt while simultaneously trying to stretch yourself with two fingers in preparation. It wasn’t long until you felt calloused fingers brushing against the back of your hand making you nearly shriek in surprise. You whipped your head down to see Tommy had moved closer, eyes completely transfixed between your legs, and you realized he was gripping himself with his other hand.

He was stroking himself at the same pace you were working yourself open.

Unexpectedly, heat simmered low in your pelvis at the sight and you couldn’t help but squirm in place. It was only about a minute later that you could tell he was getting restless, his hand squeezing his cock tight enough to make you wince, and you pretended to not notice him rubbing the weeping tip against your thighs. Tommy suddenly gripped your leg and spread you even further and you did whimper at the pain shooting through your hip at the unnatural position. He began grinding against your hand still buried in yourself, huffing in annoyance when he was denied entry, and you took a shuddering deep breath before moving your hand away to grip the edge of the bench.

“Go…slow, okay? Slow,” you muttered in a raspy voice and the only answer you received was the sensation of something blunt and sticky nudging at you.

He suddenly surged forward in an attempt to ram himself in, making you shriek and kick your pinned leg uselessly, but thankfully he just slid through your wet folds and brushed against your clit. He did that a few more times and was clearly growing agitated.

Even as you tried to weakly soothe him by weakly petting the hand holding you open, but that just seemed to work him up even more. Eventually the head of his cock notched at your entrance and he began to slowly push forward, seemingly learning from his mistakes, and you felt your eyes widen at the stretch. He was impossibly wide, nearly making you scream as your body attempted to reject the intrusion, but he was determined and those dark blue eyes never strayed from your straining cunt. You tried to help by shifting your hips, bracing one foot on the bench to widen your pelvis, and even stretching your other leg out to help ease the tension.

Nothing worked and you couldn’t escape the mounting pressure.

“It’s not going to work…Tommy, you have to stop. It hurts,” you pleaded, beginning to push on his thick chest while wiggling your hips away from him, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. Tommy didn’t like you pushing him away.

With a growl he pulled back, but your relief was short lived as he easily grabbed your hips and flipped you over and resumed his position. One broad palm was flat on your back between your shoulder blades, pinning you in place even as you squirmed and kicked, and you felt him trying to push in again with renewed vigor.

“Tommy, stop! I changed my mind! Get off of me!” you shrieked with growing panic only to have your shouts silenced by the feel of that fat head popping inside you.

Your eyes widened, body freezing and clenching down on reflex, and you barely had time to draw in a breath before Tommy drew back and slammed himself halfway inside you. The scream you let out was ear-piercing and your throat immediately felt shredded from the sound, but was cut off by him rearing back and slamming his hip back into you until he was eventually buried to the hilt.

His croaky moan of pleasure was covered by another scream from you.

Tears were now flowing freely down your face as you howled in pain, feeling as if you were being ripped in half, and you barely noticed Tommy’s other hand reaching down to paw at your wet cheeks as if to soothe you.

He only stayed still for a few seconds before leaning back and beginning a downright brutal pace. His hips were slamming into you with enough force to have the bench beneath you creaking ominously, your pelvis felt like it was going to shatter, and you had the stray thought that no amount of preparation would have ever prepared for you for him. Your gasping cries were short and choppy, from both his frantic pace and the hand pushing you down effectively squishing your lungs, but you still shrieked and yelped for him to stop or at least slow down to let your body adjust.

He didn’t listen.

He seemed possessed, grunting and snarling as he pounded into you mercilessly, and eventually your body went limp. You clawed helplessly against the wood beneath your cheek, blubbering incoherently, and prayed that Tommy would finish quickly. As if punishment for accepting this deal, you were granted no such reprieve.

He continued to rut into you like a mindless beast for what felt like hours, your insides swollen and throbbing as they were pummeled by his thick cock, and sweat was dripping off of him and mingling with your tears as he leaned over you to reach impossibly deeper. It wasn’t until his hips started stuttering and his thrusts turned deep and hard instead of fast and frantic that had you crying in relief at the telltale signs that he was nearing his finish. Then a horrifying realization dawned on you. Tommy wasn’t stopping. Instead it seemed he was spending longer and longer buried completely to the hilt, pressed flush against you as close as he could, and a new wave of terror-induced adrenaline washed over you.

“Not inside…Tommy don’t you fucking dare finish inside me,” you shrieked, renewing your struggles to escape him, and you grew increasingly wild as he only grunted at you.

You began writhing and attempting to twist away from him, kicking your legs and reaching back behind you to claw at his face, anything to get him away from you.

It only resulted in the hand on your back to slide up and fist painfully in your hair, nearly slamming you back onto the table hard enough for you to see black spots swimming in your vision, and his other hand grabbed your hip to further hold you in place. You continued to beg and plead for him to not come inside you, literally anywhere else but inside, but you were steadfastly ignored. His pace suddenly quickened, a low rattling whine escaping his broad chest, and you wailed as he stilled completely buried inside you. You felt his cock jerk and throb followed by a wave of scorching heat soothing your ravaged channel and you screamed in outrage and in despair. Tommy continued to grind into you, riding out his orgasm with small hurt noises escaping his throat, and by the time he was finished you were limp and shivering with shock. Realization of what all just happened rolling through your mind as fast as nausea rolled in your stomach at the feeling of wetness slipping down your thighs. Bile threatened to rise in your throat, silent tears spilling anew down your damp face, and your entire body felt both boiling hot and icy cold.

You wept quietly as he stayed buried inside you. He petted through your hair as if you were a frightened animal, his ragged breathing filling the stuffy air of the shed, and you swore you heard him cooing at you. You felt him lean down and nuzzle the back of your head as his hand moved from your hip to shyly pet over the back of your hand in some twisted form of affection after what just happened. The door suddenly swung open and you didn’t even have the energy to even twitch.

“Atta boy, Tommy! Heard that bitch caterwauling clear down the road!” Charlie shouted with clear glee and humiliation burned in your veins.

You heard the man move closer, no doubt wanting to leer at your crumpled body, but Tommy growled and moved his body more firmly on top of you. As if shielding you from view.

“Aw, what’s this, boy? You finally get your dick wet and now feel like you’re somebody special?” Charlie sneered and you felt the large body on top of you press even tighter to you.

You heard movement around you before a large item wrapped in brown paper tied with twine plopped on the table by your head.

“A deal’s a deal. Don’t be shy now. I’m sure Tommy would love to see you again,” he continued with a wheezing laugh, clearly finding the whole ordeal hilarious, and he walked back out of the shed laughing to himself.

Regret and disgust swirled in your gut at the sight of the paper bag, knowledge of what all transpired making you want to cry all over again, and you let out a small hiccupping sob. Tommy nuzzled into your hair once more, his body relaxing now that Charlie had left, and he resumed his petting. He was letting out a happy garbled sound, clearly not realizing how he had just brutalized you, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt Tommy begin to harden inside you once more.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 5

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, hurt, angst, rollercoaster of emotions, sadness, therapy/counseling, violence and abuse (talk of y/n past relationship)

Read Part 1 for author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

When it came time for your next therapy session with the chaplain, you were nervous. It was the first individual session you were attending, and god did you want to throw up from the anxiety.

Simon had asked you several time in the days leading up to the appointment what day and time were you had to go, but you refused to tell him. You didn't want him to be there when you went in... but somehow you knew he would figure it out anyway.

You weren't surprised when you walked in the building and saw him standing there waiting in the lobby. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as she walked up to you like a skiddish cat.

"What? Think I wasn't gonna show or something?" you bitterly asked.

"No. Just wanna make sure you didn't have any issues getting here."

Issues getting here. You weren't stupid.... well maybe staying with him you might have been.... but you knew your husband. The issues that he meant was if nobody bothered you. But it went deeper than that.

Simon began noticing your new clothes the day after you bought them. He came home from work before you, so when your feet walked through the front door of the apartment, he immediately heard the soft clicks of your heels on the hardwood floor before you took them off. His head turned as you walked past the living room, offering a brief hello before continuing into the bedroom. He saw your outfit, and he found himself swallowing the lump in this throat.

He was a soldier after all - an SAS soldier at that. He was trained to pick up on things.. and he certainly picked up on the change in your wardrobe. He also picked up on the makeup you wore. You'd gone from wearing barely any to having smokey eyes with a dark lip color every time you left the house. He was afraid to admit it, but he was worried. For all he knew, you might have started seeing someone at work, and he wouldn't have a clue who it was. It wasn't like he met your coworkers before, other than Ava.

So that's why he stood there, waiting for you to arrive at your session. He would have broken a man's jaw if he found them eyeing his wife like she was a piece of meat... especially because of what you had on too.

"I didn't," you sighed, making your way to walk past him.

Before you could, he stopped you, gently grabbing your hand and lightly squeezing it, "Let me know when you're done yeah?"

You nodded, pulling your hand away before walking down the hall to Lt. Jones's office.

Therapy.... something that made you feel queasy when you thought about it. But there you were, sitting on the couch in the man's office as he wrote notes about the previous topic you spoke on - your childhood. It wasn't that interesting, certainly not worthy of discussing, you thought, but according to him, it was important.

"Can we talk a little bit about your previous relationship? Before your husband?" He asked.

The way you paused and tensed, Jones knew he hit a sore spot. But it had to be done. His soft gaze remained on you as you looked at everything but him. The floor, the wedding ring on your finger, the ceiling, the wall.... anything. But when he continued to give you time, you let out a shaky sigh before nodding.

"What do you want to know?" you asked.

"Whatever you're comfortable with.... but how about you tell me how you found out that he cheated yeah?"

Shit.

You closed your eyes, thinking back to that time in your life when everything felt confusing. When you didn't even know if you'd make it to the next day.

"I-I went through his phone," you started, "I didn't mean to, though. I was plugging it in to charge, and a text came through from some girl saying she had a great time with him," Nervously rubbing your hands on your pants, the chaplain encouraged you to take breaks if you needed, but you shook your head "I was curious... so I opened the phone and that's when I saw the messages."

Jones wrote in his notepad before looking back at you, "Then what happened?"

"I woke him up... he was taking a nap. But I woke him up. I started screaming at him and showing him the messages," You opened your eyes, tears forming, "My ex was a dick... didn't care about anything in life except for himself. He did drugs. Hard drugs. And it was toxic.. our relationship. I should have seen the signs in the beginning... but.. I didn't. When I woke him up, I didn't think things would get so bad, but they did. He didn't even think twice before he punched me.... I just remember falling to the ground before he kneeled over me and punched me over and over. Next thing I knew..... I woke up in the ER."

You wanted to tell the chaplain to not look at you the way he did. The sad look in his eyes. The pity. Even if he was remaining professional, he couldn't hide the fact that he felt sorry for you to have gone through what you did. And by the look on your face as you kept trying to fight back the tears, he knew what his next question had to be.

"And you stayed with him after that... didn't you?"

A choked sob left your throat as you put your head in your hands, "Y-yes. I had nowhere to go. I didn't have anyone I could turn to. So I stayed.... I stayed until I saved up enough money to get the fuck out of there."

By now, Jones had removed his eyeglasses from his face and set them down on the table next to him. "It's why you're afraid to stay with him isn't it?"

Goddamn he was reading you like an open book. Even though it was his job to do so.

"Yes," you sniffled, "But I know.. I know he won't hurt me. I know that. But I can't help but be afraid... I can't help but think about my ex and what I went through."

A moment went by as Jones wrote more in his notepad before he spoke, "Mrs. Riley... I know it's terrifying to feel like the past will come back again to you. But I don't think that's the case here." You wanted to believe him, you really did. But it was scary to think that. "I'll see both of you in a couple of days. I want you to think about everything that you've told me today... but I also want you to think about everything I've said yeah?"

You nodded as you tried to wipe your face with the tissues he'd given you before the session started. After pulling yourself together a bit more, you left out of his office and made your way to the exit. A part of you thought Simon would have waited in the lobby for you to be finished, but you were relieved to find the place empty. When you got to your car, you sent a quick text to Ava telling her you were on your way to work. You thought about texting Simon as well, but you decided to do it when you got to work... eliminating the opportunity for him to ask you any further questions.

************************************************************************

Simon was a nervous wreck.. so were you, rightfully so. The last couple of days had you both on edge. Neither one of you talked about your individual sessions when you saw each other at home. He thought about asking you, he wanted to so bad. But Lt. Jones gave him his homework - don't bother you about the session. Give you the space you need in the house. That worried your husband so much he hadn't slept hardly in the past 48 hours.

Even though Pvt. Williams was now gone, he still had to stay at work a bit late at times.. especially the past two days, as Taskforce 141 was gearing up to go on another mission soon. When he came home, you were fast asleep.. thankfully in the bed. He would stare at you, thinking about everything. He did that a lot.. more so after his individual session. He thought about when he first met you, about when he asked you to marry him, even about when he kissed you the first time.

But he also thought about how now every time you looked at him, he could see the puffiness in your eyes. He thought about how you were starting to change right in front of him... the outfits becoming more..... sexy? Revealing? He couldn't figure out the word for it. But while he loved the way you dressed... he wanted to know why you changed. Well, no... he knew why. He fucking knew why you were changing. But he didn't want you to stray away from him, as selfish as that was.

Once more, you fidgeted on the couch while Simon sat up straight on his side of it. Lt. Jones wrote a few lines in his notepad before he straightened his eyeglasses and glanced towards both of you. "Thank you for being here. It's about the stepping stones yeah?" He grinned. He was trying to ease the tension, and it worked... a little. "Today... let's discuss the word why."

Oh no.

Why?

"What'd y'mean?" Simon asked first.

The chaplain cleared his throat, "I want you to tell each other why... Lieutenant.. your wife deserves to know why you cheated on her. Why you didn't tell her-" he turned his attention to you, "-Mrs. Riley, if you can... let him speak. Get everything out in the open."

That word... why. It was about to send into a panic attack.

It felt like an eternity before Simon said anything. Before he told you the full story. You grabbed the box of tissues before he was even halfway into it, and god, did you break down in tears. Simon tried to reach out to you, but you weakly slapped his hands away, ushering the chaplain to command that he didn't try to touch you again. So he continued... leading up to the point where he explained - in so many words - about how sex with her was different than it was with you.

And fuck was that the last straw.

"You never even asked me if I would be into that Simon!" you yelled.

"Mrs. Riley-" Lt. Jones tried to stop you, but you didn't.

"You fucked her again and again because she like it rough? You never even asked me to try it with you! You wanted to take out your frustrations... why not with me? I-I'm your wife, Simon! I can be your slut, too... anytime you want it. How you want it. You-" a choked sob escaped, "-you never even tried to talk to me about it. About anything."

Simon's eyes widened a little at the realization of how truly fucked up he had become. The chaplain's eyes - while somewhat remaining unfazed - he felt just a tad bit awkward at your choice of words in response to why your husband had cheated on you. "Let's come back to that later yeah?" He quickly changed the topic. "Mrs. Riley... can you tell your husband why you are having this battle between your thoughts of divorcing him and staying with him."

Crying still, you tried to get the words out as best as you could, "B-because I'm a fucking idiot. I should leave... but no.. I-I want to work on my marriage like-like an fucking idiot. We need to get a divorce."

"No," Simon jumped in. "Love, please-"

"I can't do this," you cried.

Before you tried standing up from the couch, the chaplain asked you to sit; to work through your feelings before letting them control you. Simon watched you with tearful eyes as you tried to calm down, but he was on the verge of breaking down himself.

By the time the session came to an end, you two left with more homework to do - think of a special moment in your marriage and you'd talk about it the next time you met Jones individually. You tried to run out of there, but of course, Simon pulled you into a secluded area, trapping you between him and the wall as he looked at your red eyes.

"Simon, I have to go to work."

"Love, listen to me... I'm so fuckin' sorry," he said, voice cracking a little.

That made you stare into his dark eyes, seeing the redness in them as he stared back into yours. Simon hardly cried, you had only seem him look sad.. but never cry; truly cry. Yet you caught the lone tear fall from his eye before disappearing behind his mask.

You tried to leave, "I can't do this."

"I should have talked to you. I should have told you how I felt-"

"But you didn't," you cut him off. "Why are we doing this? Why won't you divorce me? You can be happy with her-"

He didn't even let you finish that thought, "I want you. Only you." he retorted, voice thick with anger and desperation, "She's gone. I made sure of that. I don't want a divorce from you."

"What do you mean she's gone?" your eyebrows drawing together.

He sighed, "I got her transferred out. You.. nor me... will ever see her again."

His words weren't making any sense, yet all the sense in the world. He got her to leave? For you? For your marriage?

"Why?" you whispered.

"Because I wanna make this right sweetheart. You're the only woman I want. God I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I mean it."

Torn. That's what you were. Torn between believing him and wanting to get away from him.

"I have to get to work Simon. We can talk about this later," you said.

He didn't want to, but he stepped back allowing you to leave him standing there staring at the wall. He could only hope that you'd want to talk about it when he got off work.

I just want to say THANK YOU to all the likes, comments, and messages! I'm so glad you all are enjoying my story. I know it's a sad one :(

Taglist: @kalypsoox @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991

[flawdchaos]

Lips of an Angel

Lando Norris x Reader

based on lips of an angel by hinder (if you haven’t heard this song pls listen to it because it’s a banger and this is heavily based on it.)

tw: angst, kinda sorta cheating, reader and lando being dummies

a/n - hi friends, this is my first time writing for f1. i’ve written before on here and took a break to study on class work. i’ve fallen back into my f1 phase and dreamt this up on the way into work tonight. i hope you enjoy, feel free to give me feedback. thank you xx

word count - 1500 (ish)

Lando’s room illuminated from the soft glow of his phone on the bedside table, buzzing against the base of the lamp. He moved as delicately as he could, careful to not wake the girl sleeping on his chest, to see who could be calling so late. He rubbed his eyes and squinted reading the name across his screen, the name he chose to disguise Y/N’s contact.

JULIE - MARKETING.

He slid out from under the girl, tiptoeing to the hallway before whispering a hello through the phone.

“Lando?” the voice shook through the phone. “Lando, I’m sorry.” he could hear it now, the sniffles and uneven breaths - she was crying. He crept down the hallway a bit more in an attempt to gain distance from his bedroom and sleeping companion.

“Y/N, why are you crying? Is everything alright?” he whispered, being met with only sniffles. “I’m in the living room. I have to whisper. What’s wrong?” He was growing impatient in her silence, the worry growing each minute he was on the phone call.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this - this pretending. I want you for myself. Call me selfish,” she took a deep breath in “, but I deserve you - not her.”

She had never been this brash before but he couldn’t blame her. After months of secret conversations, shared glances, and hugs that lingered just a little too long - he had to agree with her.

What they shared wasn’t meant to happen in the first place. Lando and Y/N had been in the same friend groups for years, only knowing each other mutually. It stayed that way until one night when they found themselves alone at the bar, friends having left long ago. One too many drinks and the heavy hand of the bartender led them back to Lando’s flat in London. They agreed the next morning, for the sanctity of their ‘friendship’ it would never happen again - but, they were both lying to themselves and they knew it. One night turned into two and before they realized it, the rest of Lando’s winter break was shared mostly in the sheets of his bed. It was only when he was leaving back to Monaco that things came to a halt abruptly. No conversation or discussion of what the hell had just happened over the past few months, just radio silence on both ends. It was an unspoken ending between the two.

That was until a couple months later and during Lando’s first podium of the season that he found himself wishing she were there to celebrate with him. Drunkenly, he debated his options and finally decided to send her a text telling her just how much he missed her and the things they would do. His text sat unattended in her messages for the rest of the night because while Lando was thinking of her, she was doing everything she could to forget about him - and this included making the same trek home from the bar with a stranger. Come morning the only thing the pair was left with was regret.

Y/N was the first to reach back out again after his crash in Las Vegas. She couldn’t admit to her friends just how shaken it had her but she tossed and turned in the bed for over an hour before picking up her phone.

Glad you’re okay. Try to stay out of the wall next time, yeah?

Her name lighting up his phone had his heart beating almost as fast as the adrenaline of crashing did. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as his mind raced on what to say. It was late in the UK so his response would probably go unnoticed until the morning. Or - had she stayed up that late to watch him race? Or should he say crash.

“What’s got you stumped, mate?” Max’s voice broke him from his daze as he glanced over his shoulder. “Y/N, aye? Just admit it.”

Lando’s head shot up to meet Max’s stare. “Admit what?”

“That you’re fucking whipped. I’ve seen you stalking her instagram.”

Something about Max’s words ignited a feeling within him. For the first time in his “playboy” career - Lando Norris was scared of his feelings.

—

It wasn’t long after the Las Vegas Grand Prix that Y/N had noticed a shift in Lando. He was almost nonexistent on her social media - no likes, hearts or story views. She chalked it up to the busy life he lived but when she clicked through his ‘close friends’ instagram story, her heart fell to her stomach. Lando had his arms wrapped around another girl, lips pressed against her cheek in front of a mirror. All of her questions and doubts were confirmed with a simple click and despite him owing her anything, she felt betrayed. Y/N couldn’t deny it anymore - the time she had spent with Lando was a whirlwind and no matter how many nights she spent curled up in bed, their bodies pressed together, she was always left wanting more.

On the mornings she woke before him, which had been every morning except two, she had found herself tangled in his arms feeling safe and secure. The true depth of her feelings came to be when she slowly awoke one morning to Lando running his arms down hers and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, vowing to return shortly. He stuck true to his promise when he crept back into the bedroom, two cups of tea tucked safely in his hands. She realized then that a small snippet of a domestic life with Lando was all she ever wanted but when he spoke again, the reality of their situation came back into play.

“Max is coming over in an hour to set up some stuff for the new Youtube video. I don’t mean to rush you but I figured our secret was still between us.” She nodded and hummed before taking another sip of her tea.

“Sure thing. I’ll be gone as soon as we finish our tea.”

-

Y/N finally realized, after viewing Lando’s story, that she had to move on. Find somebody to distract her from the replays of her intimate moments shared with Lando - and so she did. The pair both settled into mediocre “relationships” to distract themselves from the constant longing they had for each other. Subtle posts made to stories in hopes to cause jealousy in each other were made almost weekly. Lando had been seeing a girl one of his mates had set him up with, and Y/N had met a guy at a bar in London on a girls night out. Neither of them were unhappy, per se, but nothing matched the energy that the pair had shared before. On nights after rough races and a few drinks, Lando would have dreams that the girl in his arms wasn’t who had been currently seeing but Y/N instead. One dream had sent him over the edge and he had called her that night to hear her voice.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. His longing was quickly turning into regret as he realized this was probably a mistake before her soft voice filled the phone, she was whispering.

“Lando?” his heart was racing at the mere sound of her voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to wake you.” he said, hand raising to his mouth as he started biting at his fingernails.

“It’s okay, are you alright?”. She was still whispering.

“Uhm,” he began, shuffling his feet against the rug below him. “Fuck. This is so stupid…but I had a dream about you. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“A dream? About me?” he could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone, probably trying to put distance between her and her partner just like he had done.

“Yeah. A dream. It isn’t the first one I’ve had either.” They were both silent for a moment before he continued. God, why was he admitting this. “And I guess they’ve just helped me realize some things.” His heart was beating so hard that he figured she could hear it through the phone. A sharp intake of breath from her end of the phone had him biting at his nails again.

“What things, Lan?” Lan. He hadn’t heard her say that in months.

“My girl’s asleep in the next room. John is probably in the room next to you asleep. We’re kilometers and kilometers apart but yet, despite all of that, every time I close my fucking eyes all I see is you. All I hear is you laughing. I dream of you.” He sat down, head in his hands. “I guess I never really moved on, Angel.” The nickname had given her long ago falling effortlessly from his lips.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she hung up the phone, called him a dickhead, and never spoke to him again. All of the worst options lived in his head. The last thing he expected her to say was,

“Lan, I dream of you too.”

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2k words, part 1)

Summary: Inspired by one of my headcanons for Valeria. Valeria has gifted you a whole wing in her massive residence in Las Almas. Alejandro infiltrates the mansion to gather intel and finds you, Valeria's girlfriend. You are kidnapped by Alejandro and interrogated by the 141 on Valeria and her whereabouts. Got a bit carried away and will make a part 2! Link to fanfic on A03

Notes: Sorry for butchering Mexican Spanish, I Google-translated everything! Also tagging @lesvii in case u wanted to read it! TW: mentions of cheating, toxic Alejandro, threat of violence.

It was another beautiful night for you at the rich luxurious mansion of your girlfriend Valeria Garza, the infamous cartel mogul of Las Almas and Latin America. In the lowest basements of the estate sat enemies, tied on their chairs and ruthlessly interrogated by Valeria's henchmen. Blood stains littered the floor, the moans of these victims muffled by the layers of concrete that stood between them and the world above the surface. And much further above, on a secluded and spoiled part of the estate, you stretched lazily on a golden bathtub filled with hot water and bubbles, feeling the dolphin-shaped taps that winked at you with diamond eyes as you played around with the water. Your bathroom was filled with the scent of lavender and honey and you enjoyed another night of hard-earned relaxation. It wasn't easy being this loved and spoiled, but someone had to do it! Sure, Valeria had a prominently dark side that demanded constant attention, and could be a handful to love. Valeria needed three warm homemade meals every day, love each morning and night and a massage break during her siesta, and you met all of her wishes. In return, Valeria loved you hard and expensively.

Today was an especially tough day because Valeria needed to leave for a business trip.

"It's just three days, okay mi amor? I'll be back before you know it," she fussed over you at her doorstep, one of the few times she'd let you be seen by her henchmen. Ever since you were moved into Valeria's residence, she had scarcely left your side. And now here she was, needing to leave for some kind of business meeting that she refused to elaborate on. You knew it must've been important because you would hear various personnel discuss it carelessly when they thought you weren't listening from your balcony. And it must've been very important if it meant keeping her away from you for days. "But what about morning cuddles?" You sulked and held on to her shirt with the tip of your fingers. It was a bit self-indulgent and dramatic, but you really were going to miss her, and Valeria loved to feel needed anyway, so such pathetic displays were more than welcome. "I'll call you whenever I can, okay? Now give me a kiss."

And that's how you ended up having to amuse yourself for several days.

And that's when Alejandro decided to infiltrate the Las Almas residence.

You were soaking in the warm water, completely oblivious to the fact that your girlfriend's ex-lover was eyeing the residence for a vulnerable entry point. As you lathered your body in oils and creams, he was butchering the guards and dumping their bodies behind the bushes. As you sat on your Queen sized bed ready to rest for the night, he stood behind the door, listening. Alejandro had guessed that this must be Valeria's private area of the mansion because it was significantly nicer than the rest, and that said something. Whereas the rest of the mansion looked like it came from a luxury housekeeping catalogue, this part was more...personal. It had a personal touch to it, a woman's touch. And he knew Valeria had no interest in interior decoration. He passed hallways with floral and sensual pieces of art, past vases with carefully arranged flowers that probably had a deeper significance than he realised. Past a fully stocked kitchen with something freshly cooked on the stove, past a well-used sitting area decorated with pictures of two women smiling at the camera. Jealousy tugged at his heart at these displays of domesticity. He pulled a spy cam cord from his pocket and slid it underneath the door. And there on the bed, amid fluffy cushions and blankets, sat you.

And he remembered exactly who you were.

"Hermano, all good in there?" Soap's voice came through in his earpiece, jolting Alejandro from his revenge fantasy. "Si, be out in five," he whispered and pulled the camera back. It'd be more efficient to knock on the door and wait to take you with chloroform, but he could bet on his life that you were not part of the cartel. This was very much a regular civilian woman, a little trophy wife. And trophy wives can't fight off military personnel. Alejandro rammed through the door and lunged for you before you even had a moment to turn around. Having tucked yourself in your blankets, you had no time to even get up before this strange man put his hands on you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Strange men with various insignias on their uniforms paced around the residence as you were pushed forward and towards the garden. The man was with Mexican Special Forces, that much you could tell. He laughed darkly and tightened his grip on you. "So, big El Sinobre left you behind, eh? Not so big and scary now, are we?" To your horror and surprise, a helicopter was lowering itself to the ground and shone a bright light on you, like you were a criminal. You wanted to protest that you hadn't actually done anything, but you were guilty by association. Another man leaned out of the helicopter and extended his arm to grab you. "That don't look like cartel to me, brother," a slightly Southern American accent decorated his speech as he grabbed your elbow and chucked you in. The Mexican man followed you along with some others. "She's the next best thing after Valeria, trust me. She'll come running to us in no time."

"Hermano, you sure about this? There are different rules for civilians." Another man spoke, a man with a mohawk and the Union Jack flag on his vest. The helicopter started raising itself off the ground and took off to God knows where. You were in your pyjamas still, feeling silly and vulnerable, too afraid to say anything. Valeria always warned people to stay quiet in front of enemies, and you couldn't be blamed for anything you hadn't said. "I'm positive, Hermano. I know how she works. We take something from her, and she'll come looking." The man sat right across from you, his eyes never leaving you. He was tall and dark, around Valeria's age you'd guess, maybe older. There was a menacing look in his eyes, as though he couldn't stand to look at you, yet his dark eyes never left yours. There was something else lurking underneath that you couldn't put your finger on. It was almost like hatred, though you couldn't understand why he'd hate you personally - you'd never seen him before. And yet he spoke of Valeria with such familiarity...it chilled you.

Next thing you knew, you were in some headquarters. Masses of soldiers marched to and from the facility, taking the time to glance your way as the men brought you to one of the warehouses. Amidst the uniformed men with pounds of kit on themselves, you felt naked. Within the warehouse was a metal container that, to your horror, seemed to be your new resting place. You were thrown on a chair and the container sealed shut after them. "She's being surprisingly cooperative so far," the man with the skull mask grumbled as he leaned back with his arms crossed. "Either that or poor thing doesn't speak English," said the American.

"I can speak English," you whispered and nodded to them, the first thing you said so far. "Perfecto." The American clapped his hands and walked towards you. He lowered himself to your level and brought his face menacingly close to yours, so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. "Now, we can do this the nice way. Or we can do this the army way. What will it be, sweetheart?" He stared you down with his blue eyes and you noticed the scar on his cheek; a clean slice on his combat-hardened face. You swallowed hard. "The nice way." He grinned with satisfaction and raised himself. "That's what I like to hear."

The man who kidnapped you stepped forward, towering over you and not bothering to lower himself like the American. "Where's Valeria?" He spat her name out like poison and your heart sank. "I don't kn-," you'd started saying but stopped when you saw how his eyes darkened. "She doesn't tell me anything. She keeps her business separate from me." "And who exactly are you?" The masked man spoke, his deep voice reverberating within the container. The Mexican man scoffed and paced around mumbling to himself. "This should be good." "Alejandro, please." Another man scolded in a whisper. Alejandro glared at him and shook his head, then looked at you with a deep frown that contorted an otherwise handsome face. His eyes, you realised, were looking at your fingers, one of which wore a thick golden band.

"I'm her partner." You resisted the urge to play with your ring, afraid of making any move in front of them. The American laughed loudly, making you jolt in your seat. "A cartel run by a lesbian, eh? Man, I love my job." "She's not a lesbian," Alejandro snapped quickly. The American stood up taller. "My friend, I think you need to cool off." "¡Anímate y díselo!" He yelled at you. "Alright, now hold on. How do you two know each other?" The American demanded as he pointed to you and Alejandro. "I don't know him," you mumbled and shook your head. "Mierda! You know perfectly well who I am." He exploded again. The man with the mohawk and the other Mexican man looked at you wearily, moving a little bit closer to you in light of Alejandro's outbursts. "I'm sorry, I really don't," you said with a wavering voice. That seemed to really set him off. Alejandro charged at you while swearing. "Vete al infierno hija de puta-"

The two men reached forward and drew him away from you. "Alejandro-" "Calm down, Commander." He shook them off then span around and looked at you again, his firsts curled on the handles of his vest. "Okay, go on. Speak." "I already told you she doesn't tell me anything! She doesn't want me to be involved and she doesn't tell me where she goes. I just take care of the house and that's it. And she'll be mighty pissed when she sees I'm gone." You threw your words at him.

"And now, you," the American pointed at Alejandro. "Valeria served in the Mexican Army, same unit but different squads. Until she betrayed us for the cartel. That's how I know her."

Suddenly, you realised who he was. You'd heard whispers about him amongst Valeria's friends. She would frequently be teased about 'moving camps' and being a heartbreaker. One of them even joked about how you were a homewrecking housewife. Valeria made sure you didn't see those people again. You thought it was all part of a big joke, until now. That part of her past, you guessed, must be him.

The American looked at you and you nodded. "Yes, she did that when we first met. But I don't know anything specific, she didn't tell me." The man who called Alejandro 'commander' looked at you closely and he, too, seemed familiar. He was also part of the Mexican Special Forces and seemed to be paired up with Alejandro. He had large, round brown eyes that were not unkind. He spoke up: "I remember her too. Valeria and she met just a bit before Valeria left the Mexican Army." The American looked at you with disdain after that, and the other man continued. "But she's not lying about not knowing Alejandro. Valeria kept her out of our business." You looked at him with relief and he looked away.

"Well we just pulled a heck of an operation to weed this one out, and we're not leaving until we get some answers," said the American man. "And I don't believe for a second that you're entirely clueless. Now you can either start singing or I'm gonna show you the difference between the military and me."

Notes: Thanks for reading! Link to part 2 :> Link to part 3

[littlesunshine1223]

Hello

I would like to order Hamilton (Smut)

Something like John Laurens x fem.reader in a modern au and they are a couple and live together but their relationship is too complicated because John is too jealous and the reader is someone with a lot of friends and they have too many arguments.

In one of those discussions they stop talking and ignore each other, then the reader goes to a party with the Schuyler sisters and dresses up looking very sexy just to bother John.

The reader returns late at night and a little drunk and they start to discuss why he believes that she was unfaithful to him and she just to bother says that it is true (although it is a lie).She complains to him out of jealousy but he just doesn't want her to leave him for someone better.

I don't know how to explain, but do they reconcile?

Sorry, I'm embarrassed 🥹😅

Cruel Jealousy

John Laurens X FEM!Reader (modern au)

(TW: smut, swearing, jealous sex, slight mention of alcohol, etc)

“I can’t believe you! All you ever do is piss me off! Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the way you were hanging all over my friends?!” John yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes at him. It was another fight, the same argument over every little thing you did when he was around.

“Do Not roll your eyes at me Y/N! You’re half drunk and it’s nearly 2 in the morning. Also that dress you’re fucking wearing is way too revealing, some random guy could’ve coped a feel at any point!” John once again exclaimed upon your non-listening ears.

Your mind felt fuzzy from the couple glasses of wine you’d drank at the party as you chatted with the Schuyler sisters. John continued to rant about how what you’re wearing is revealing and how you were supposedly flirting with his friends. But he didn’t know what really happened, as you were walking over to get another drink you accidentally slipped over the bottom of your dress and Hamilton caught you before you hit the ground. In John’s eyes he saw you hanging all over Alexander, he didn’t know the full story and wasn’t letting you explain what actually happened.

You snapped back to reality when you heard him exclaim that he thinks you were cheating on him with his friends. “What made you think that I’d ever cheat on you?!” You asked him in disbelief. He looked at you with his eyes brimmed in tears, “You’ve ignored me for the past two days, you wear clothes that practically show off everything, and all you do is hang all over everyone you come close to like they’re a damn playground! So just tell me, tell me the truth…have you been seeing someone else?!”

You thought for a moment before answering. Your drunken thoughts only fueled the flames of the argument when you told him that you had slept with his three best friends.

He looked at you in disbelief for a moment but once he snapped out of his gaze he heard you complaining how none of his best friends didn’t take you back to their houses after the party. You saying this made something inside John’s mind snap as he was pushed over the edge. He walked towards you angrily, grabbing you roughly and pinning you to the wall. His lips found yours hungrily. The kiss slowly became a makeout session until he pulled away. “You’re lying right through your fucking teeth.” He purred into your ear seductively.

His hands slipped from your hips to your thighs, one hand slipping between your legs. His fingers and palm rubbed you through your pants which made you moan for him from the friction. “You like that baby? You like pissing me off just so I’m rough with you? Bet you want me to fuck you like a whore. If you wanted me to touch you so bad then get on your knees and suck me off. Clearly you wanted a dick down your throat since you were flirting up my friends.” He smirked as you slipped down to your knees. You unzipped his pants and tugged them down along with his boxers to reveal his nod fully hard erection.

You licked some pre that was oozing from his shaft which made him let out a shaky breath. “Stop teasing me and just suck it properly.” He warns in an irritated tone but seconds later you take him into your mouth properly and suck as hard as you can, causing him to let out a gasp which faded into a moan. The more you bobbed your head and ran your tongue over his sensitive skin the more he tugged at your hair and thrusted his hips into your mouth.

“Damn baby, feel so fucking good.” He whined as his hips kept bucking into your mouth. His sounds of pleasure kept getting more desperate and slightly higher in tone as you continued to suck him off. After a few moments passed he came down your throat with a broken moan. “Baby, go back to the bedroom and strip. I’ll be in there in a minute.” He whispered into your ear seductively. You do as he says and walk back to your shared bet room. You strip your clothes off and lay spread out on the bed, legs open and hands behind your head.

John walks in after a few moments and immediately positions himself between your legs. He tossed his clothes off and grabbed the lube from the nightstand before lubing up his still erect cock and pushing it deep inside you. Both of you let out sounds of pleasure but you had to admit that the stretch from his girth stung a little bit. He noticed your whimpers nearly immediately and kisses you deeply. “It’s alright y/n, I’ll wait till you’re ready for me to move.” He continues to kiss all over your face until you tell him you’re ready. The seconds you tell him that he starts thrusting slow and deep, not wanting to overdo it too soon.

A couple moments pass and his thrusts get rougher and you swear you feel him in your stomach from how deep he is. Your moans and sounds of pleasure only fuel his thrusts and make him throw his head back with a groan of your name as he pounds you oh so harder. “Hell, maybe if I get you pregnant then you’ll stop whoring around with my friends. You’ll look good all stuffed and swollen because of me.” He rambled as his mind got fuzzier and fuzzier from how hard you’re squeezing his aching hardness inside you.

The pleasure was becoming too much as you got closer and closer to your climax. You felt his hands grabbing at your own, after getting a hold on your hands he holds them and ruts into you deeper and harder. “C-Close!~ Jo-John!~” you moan before hitting your peak and cumming around his cock when it was balls deep inside you. John throws his head back with a moan before he pulls out with a wet pop noise and cums on your chest with a whimper as his eyes rolled back for a second or two.

He lays on the bed next to you, both of you panting. “Did you mean what you said?” You turn your head to face him. “Did I mean what?” “Did you mean what you said about getting me pregnant just to make sure everyone knows I’m yours?” Johns face went red at the question but after he over came his embarrassment he kissed you and nodded. “I hate when other people look at you like they’re just waiting to pounce. I just…I don’t want you getting hurt. I love you too much to just stand around while you tease some other random person.” He explains to you. You couldn’t help but kiss him deeply on the lips while snuggling closer. “Here babe, I’ll go get a rag to clean us up then-” he offered but you cut him off. “Who said we were done?” A smirk formed on his face before he kissed you deeper than ever and pinned you down to the bed.

It was going to be a long night…

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Spencer Reid x Famous!Reader

Part 1. Part 2.

Synopsis: After your home is broken into by a stalker, your bf cheats, the FBI is called and a new romance begins to take over.

Told through Instagram posts

TW for mentions of stalkers

e!news

Liked by y.n.is.life, user753 and 79,642 others

e!news ‼️BREAKING‼️ Police called to Y/n L/n home after attempted break in by armed perpetrator.

Sources say Y/n was home with her boyfriend, singer Matt Carter, at the time of the break in but security chased him away.

This is not the first time an attempted break-in has been made on Y/n's property.

View all 8,432 comments

y.n.is.life Oh. My. God. Praying she's okay rn 🙏🏽

user732 Why are ppl so disgusting. She's a human being. 🤬

y.nfan HE WAS ARMED 😭 so glad security chased him away!!!

user864 She must've been terrified 😢

jojo396 NOT THE FIRST TIME?!?!?!?! STAY SAFE Y/N

yourinstagram

Liked by taylorswift and 238,9736 others

yourinstagram To my fans. Due to recent events it is with a heavy heart that I will be postponing my tour for the foreseeable future. I am so, so, sorry. The horrific events of these past few days have shaken me to my core. We have discussed this back and forth for hours and we decided that for your safety and my own this was the right course of action. Please keep your tickets and we will try and get new dates ASAP. Thank you for all your love and support. I love you all. Y/n and YourTourName Team. 💜

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fan872

Liked by y.n.stan and 16,762 others

Fan872 I'm going to be fucking SICK. Y/n's boyfriend Matt is in Greece with some random girl!!!!!! They've been papped kissing and at restaurants!

Her house got broken into FOUR days ago and someone tried to attack her. She CANCELLED her tour due to safety concerns and HES IN GREECE CHEATING 🤬🤬🤬🤬

View all 8,726 comments

user men☕️

y.n.is.mother WTF!!!!! SCUMBAG!!!!!

Liked by 412 others

stan.y/n GUYS THATS BECCA!!!! Y/NS BEST FRIEND!!!!!!

matt.is.life No it isn't. Stfu. Stop spreading rumours

stan.y/n Uhhh yes it is.... open your eyes

sarah12 You can't even see her properly?

youralbumname13 Poor Y/n!!! 💔

user Love isn't real. Stg. 😭😭

stan.y/n they were so good together!!!!!

matt.fan I feel so bad for him. The pressure he's under. He needed a break from this

fan872 YOU FEEL BAD FOR HIM?! HIM?!

y.n.matt.4ever SHE ALMOST GOT ATTACKED AND YOU FEEL FOR HIM?!?!?!?!

user234 siding with the cheater💀Gross

selena.fan No. Just no.

rach12 And cheating was the way to go??

e!news

Liked by celeb.news and 81,624 others

e!news ‼️BREAKING‼️FBI arrive at Y/n L/n's condo in New York.

This comes after a second stalker incident.

Y/n's team has refused to comment.

View all 4,826 comments

y/n123 How is she going through all this? 😭

username3 Poor Y/n! WE LOVE YOU ❤️

user1name Why's she in NY??

y/n.becca.drama Where have you been?

user926 Her home got broke into in L.A. Then her bf cheated on her with her best friend.

user1name OMFG?!?!?!

mama.sel OF COURSE THEY DIDNT COMMENT?!?!?!?!?! WTF?!

lovebecca

Liked by spill.the.tea, beccamc and 4,173 others

lovebecca Becca has been receiving so much hate and death threats after recent photos of her and Matt Carter have surfaced online.

This is absolutely disgusting!! Cancel culture at its finest, yet again.

She hasn't done anything wrong.

Y/n stans are crazy and will do anything to make her look good and innocent in the media.

Y/n and Matt had broke up because Matt couldn't cope with the stress and his mental health deteriorated. So, Becca and Matt went to Greece together to cheer him up.

They're adults.

Grow up.

View all 6,183 comments

justice.for.becca 💯💯 FACTS

y/nnnn I've never seen someone so wrong b4 😂

queen.tyler Ummm. No? She literally went on holiday with Y/n's bf while they're still together and going through a traumatic experience?

jessicat She's literally a home wrecker

ethan4 Imagine taking Y/n's terrifying experience and spinning it into an excuse for why you cheated 💀💀

Liked by 917 others

queen.y/n The Devil works hard but Matt Carter works harder.

e!news

Liked by y.n.fan and 43,962 others

e!news Singer Y/n L/n has first public outing since the attempted break in of her home and break up with boyfriend, Singer Matt Carter.

Y/n, 24, was pictured in New York earlier today with her FBI protection.

The recent Grammy winner cancelled her tour stating security issues and mental health issues to be the cause two weeks ago.

Just days later, then boyfriend Matt Carter was spotted in Greece with Y/n's best friend Becca McKay. The two pictured in intimate moments together have led to online speculations that the two are now dating even though Matt was in a relationship at the time.

View all 9,726 comments

user74 That agent though 🥵

ginaxx I know!!! He can protect me!

y.n.stan Look how thin she is 😭😭😭

hater927 "Mental health" mmmkay snowflake

bi.queen You get stalked, have someone threaten your life and have your bf cheat on you with your best friend and THEN we'll talk about your mental health. 🤡

grow.up.y/n She looks gross 🤮

y/nnnn The irony of your name.

love.you.y/n So happy you're going back outside!!! Stay strong ❤️

everything.y/n

Liked by harrypottah2 and 6,826 others

everything.y/n Y/N CONTENT!! I'm so so so happy that she feels comfortable posting again. Even if comments are heavily monitored.

I missed her so much! I hope everything is going OK with her and she's staying safe.

P.s. she also deleted every single pic of Matt and Becca off her IG. We Stannnnnnn!!!

View all 826 comments

girl.bossss Even her shadow slays 😭

dantheman She seems comfortable around the FBI. I'd be tense all the damn TIME

oui.oui. her deleting every trace of them is such a power move!!! Revenge era.

y/n.queen SHES AT THE PIANO! WHATS SHE WRITING?!?!?!?!?!?!

matt.fan The pic of them 2 in the HP robes is so cute 🥹

bye.segual. Was. Was so cute. Not now

hate.y/n Her need for attention is sad

doc.martina Why are you HERE THEN?

yourinstagram

Liked by taylorswift and 12,836,923 others

yourinstagram Figuring out what to do next has been one of the hardest things to do. After thinking it over for the past month we have all agreed that being on stage is the right thing for me right now. Life tests us all and this is my test and I will not lose. I will not back down. You all mean so much to me than you will ever know and Yourtourname will continue in NYC in two weeks. Your support has filled my heart with so much love. Stay safe. I'll see you soon 💜

Comments have been disabled

[mysticalsoot]

he said he'd cure your ills (but he did and he always will)

A/N; i wrote this in like an hour which is entirely a record for me lmao. there will be an alt vers posted tomorrow!! i’ll also post an intro and masterlist later!!

TW// manipulation, cheating, swearing, Wilbur is a bitch, it gets worse before it gets better sorry, fluff at the end I promise, partial derealization??, most of it is a nightmare.

Words; 2,004

Pairings; cc!Wilbur x Reader

Pronouns; Not mentioned, one use of y/n

Inspired by;  The Smiths – This Night Has Opened My Eyes

Bittersweet angst version here

masterlist

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

"Wilbur," You begin, voice trembling and caked in uncertainty, "Don't go. You can't."

"Why can't I? I have free will," Wilbur's tone is sharp like claws that slowly pick at the flesh around your heart, begging to rip it from your chest. And you're sure it will. His arms are flayed out, stretched out on either side of him. The same way they always are when he's angry. "Who's to stop me from leaving your pathetic excuse of a person?"

"You don't mean that.." Your voice gives out at the end, and you back up from him and into the wall. You want to run.

You want to scream.

You want to call him names.

Yell at him the way he's been doing to you.

Threaten him in the same ways, only worse and more tortuous than he could ever come up with.

But he's right.

You're pathetic, and so you curl up inside yourself, you freeze, and you die inside. You're rotting from the outside in. You're rotting, and isn't it his fault?

"I mean every word." His words come out slowly, it's calculated, the way he says it. It's like he really does mean to hurt you, that every word is a swing of the sword he's wielded for months. Slowly getting duller as each swing cuts deeper.

First, it was the distance; he stopped being as affectionate in public or at home. He no longer asked for it either, he just let you initiate it as if it was a chore he'd rather forget about for months on end. But you let it go, he was probably just tired!

And then it was the phone calls; his phone would ring and he would leave the room. He always said it was "work" stuff, but you knew the people he worked with and you were even friends with his manager, let alone his bandmates. But you let that slide too. Who knows, maybe it was a secret project! It's not that concerning..

The last straw was your friends. They were his as well, but they were just as much yours as they were his.

They were the ones that caught him. Up until this point you had been willingly oblivious, always pushing the gut feelings and the second thoughts as far away from you as possible and burying them six feet in the ground.

Wilbur was out during the day, he had gone to the beach that day (although he told you he went to the studio), to meet up with them. James was walking past the boardwalk that afternoon and he saw the tall man over by the water, out of the corner of his eye. He thought it was odd given the fact that Wil almost never went to the beach without you. So, he moved to a closer spot and hid far enough away that he wouldn't be noticed by his friend but close enough he could still see. It was deceptive and over the top, yes, but James was always one for theatrics.

He watched as Wilbur had gotten closer to the person he was with, holding their face the same way he watched him hold yours. He smiled at them the same way he smiled at you. But this person, they were the complete opposite of you and it made James' blood boil. He knew that you had no knowledge of this person because if you had known, he would have known. And he was in the dark, so you must be too.

And unfortunately, he was right. He went to the others first, the band, Alex, Tommy, Niki.. He covered all the bases for your closest friends and gathered them all together for dinner and game night at his place. And so, James told them everything, everything he saw or heard; the fact you probably didn't know.

They hatched a plan that night, after discussing all of the details, and their own suspicions. The plan was simple, they would stage an intervention. When worded like that, it sounds as if they pushed you into it. They didn't, the words they used were this; we found something out and we think you should know, but we have to tell you in person; and don't bring Wilbur.

It caught you off guard for sure and it filled your body with buzzing worry and nausea. But it subsided when you had gotten to the agreed apartment (Niki's), only to build again when you saw the expressions on their faces. Ones of grief, guilt, and pain.

They told you everything.

And then you went home (after plenty of comforting until you were semi-stable again), and you told Wilbur. You knew. There was no getting past you anymore. The secret was out.

And now you're here. He's making it out to be your fault and you so desperately want to believe it's not, but his arguments are more compelling and convincing than you thought.

"You, Y/N, have always been a nuisance. You're clingy, and possessive, you talk too much and you never know when to stop. It's always Wilbur this and Wilbur that. You never give me a break. You're overbearing, you're controlling. And I hate every fucking bit of your shit existence!" It hurts so bad to hear every word he says and know that he means it. The ache in your chest feels like a throbbing and if you didn't know better you would've assumed your heart had been ripped out and shredded over and over and over again, the hole in your chest then gushing blood from the half-assed job of heart surgery. All done by the sharpness of Wilbur's words.

God, you wished this was just a dream.

"If I'm such a nuisance, why have you stayed?" You ask, tears burning the skin of your red cheeks. The bags under your eyes are more prominent now than ever, it's the exhaustion from life combined with the stress of...this.

"Because I pitied you," He pauses, eyes narrowing before stepping forward, closer to you, "I never loved you."

You wish this was a dream, it has to be. He's not this cruel, it can't be him.

"What about the promises you made? Did those mean nothing to you?" You're begging him to spare your heart now, to not rip into it in the same way he ripped it from your chest. Your tone simply begs; please spare me, Wilbur, please.

"I never meant a word."

You feel yourself fade from reality, the sight of his anger-ridden red face fades into darkness, your surroundings going with it.

And then your body is frozen. Everything is black and you're crying, you can feel the wetness on your skin, somehow chilling you whilst burning you at the same time.

"Hey, hey, hey.." A soft voice speaks, it's muffled and you can barely make it out, but it's familiar; comforting.

You want to say something but your throat is locked, it's just as frozen as the rest of you, and you can't speak.

"It's okay, it's just a dream." The voice speaks again, and your brain subsides the fog previously inhabiting it and you remember. It's Wil.

Your eyes shoot open, his arms are wrapped around you, your head resting on his shoulder with his chin resting on the top of your head.

You shake your head, "No, no," you sniffle, grabbing onto the t-shirt he slept in, a simple white Los Campesinos! shirt, "it's not okay, it's not okay." The fabric entirely muffles your words on his shoulder but he can hear, he can make it out.

He pulls you closer to him, arms holding you in a tighter grasp. The feeling is warm, fuzzy, and good.

"Love, you're okay. I promise it's not real. This is real, I'm real, you're real." Wilbur rests his cheek against yours, the warmth of his touch enveloping you in a care you'd almost forgotten could exist.

You open your mouth to argue, but find yourself without words yet again, you simply whimper as you cry into his shoulder, soaking it in tears. He traces circles on your back as he whispers to you all of the things you didn't know you needed. He's warm, he's loving, and he's nothing like the nightmare Wilbur.

Moments pass until you've cried all the tears you could, and you pull away from his shoulder to look at him, adjusting yourself to sit in his lap facing him, rather than laying across his lap like before. The circles under his eyes are darker, and his hair, albeit longer than usual, is fluffed up and sticking up in every direction. He looks tired and worn, but his eyes hold the same concern and worry he has whenever you're upset.

He reaches his hands out to you, palms up and hovering in front of you. You take his hands in yours, holding on tightly, hoping and praying this isn't a dream either and you can stay. You desperately hope this is real. You want it to be real.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, head dipping slightly to meet your eye level, he's still taller than you even when sitting.

You weigh the options, if you told him, he would console you most likely. Or something would click and he would act in the same way he did in the nightmare, irritable and cold. Cut off from you. Was the risk worth it?

On the other hand, if you lied or perhaps omitted details, he may move on and the risk of him mimicking that same behavior is tremendously less likely.

You choose to tell him, there's a risk to it but what could it hurt?

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, "You cheated on me." You open your right eye a bit, just enough to gauge his reaction.

He looks to you expectantly, knowing there's more and so he waits patiently. You let go of his hands and move forward towards him again, wrapping your arms around his middle and your face pressing up against his chest. You can hear Wilbur's heartbeat, a pitter-patter against his ribcage.

"It was a long dream. James caught you and he told our friends and then they told me. Everyone else suspected it but didn't want to believe it until they had gotten proof. I didn't know until then. I went home and I told you that I knew and you-" You pause, voice wavering in fear. "You blew up on me. You told me you never loved me and told me all the things you hated about me." A single tear runs down your cheek, and you nuzzle further into him, your hands gripping the back of his shirt. "You said you never meant the promise we made. You didn't mean it."

After you finish, you stay silent, and so does he. His breathing becomes uneven and before you know it, he's crying too. You lift your head up to face him again, your hands rest on his cheeks and you wipe away the tears on his face with your thumbs.

"I would never, ever, do something like that." He mutters, his arms tightening their grip on you, pulling you closer.

You nod, "I know. But it was still scary."

He nods back, and then places a kiss on your forehead, "I'm sorry, Wil." You whisper, your arms leaving his back to wrap around his neck.

"It's not your fault, my love. We all have fucked up nightmares like that from time to time. I promise."

It's a simple promise, a promise that you're not alone and that he too has dealt with similar things. And despite the turmoil of the dream, you're glad you're awake and no longer in that hellish world.

You're home, and home is him.

Wilbur said he'd cure all of your ills, but he did and he always will.

Wilbur is yours and you are his. And you couldn't be happier.

[oh-saints]

Hello!! Love how you write angst, could you maybe write a one shot for either mason mount or martin ødegaard, where you have been dating for a couple of years and suddenly he starts being nervous around reader and she thinks that he is going to ask her to move in but he breaks up with her because he starts thinking that she should be with someone that can give her all their time and not being in the spotlight and then idk ajajajaj

Maybe they call them when they are drunk or they get hurt in a match and they call her or something where they hace to face each other or something

Omg this is long ajajajajaj hope you like my idea and it inspires you to write something, I know anything we got from you will be nice :)

hi nonny!! sorry it's only now i can write this request of yours. i hope i'm not too late? ;-)

but since i'm writing an angst-y series for mason, here may i present you something for our favourite young captain that i've been working on the past week...

ghost

it’s true what people say when they tell you to wrap up your unfinished business first. you’re just too blind to see the big, fat ass flag that’s waving as red as your boyfriend’s kit.

martin ødegaard x you tw: insecurity + cheating wc: 3.3k note: this is just a fiction ok i'm just in the mood to make devil out of everyone lolol this actually hits a bit too close to home but I need to let it out, so here we are. I don’t support cheating whatsoever btw, so remember to break it up good first things first 😉but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so it’s not beta-read yet. songs: almost is never enough - nathan sykes, ariana grande & midnight rain - taylor swift

“are you engaged or something that I don’t know of?”

it wasn’t often your best friend paid you a call, considering her florist business was thriving and all and they were now rather short-staffed. so when her name flashed over the screen of your phone, you didn’t think twice to excuse yourself out of your office to pick up her call.

but you didn’t think she’d fire you that question. sure, you’d been dating your boyfriend since the early days of his arrival to the north side of london and things had been going stable between you two. sure, you’d talked about the more serious part of your relationship, such as what if you both get married and all. but that was it—none of you discussed more than that, what ifs.

you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity if given, though.

“uh, no? why are you asking?”

“shit,” your friend muttered under her breath. “promise me, first. don’t tell him it comes from me, okay?”

the more your friend gave you disclaimer like that, the more your heart’s palpitation grew rapid. “as if I’d throw my best friend under the bus.”

she laughed at your lame attempt to hide your nervousness. your voice tended to reach an octave higher when you did so. “martin ordered so many peonies for the weekend.”

peony is your favourite flower, you’d told martin that a long while ago—to which martin utilised the information for every of your anniversary bouquet, along with every time your birthday came up. but he never orders for peony on ordinary days because he thinks it defeats the purpose of presenting you everything special on particular days.

and this weekend was the last game of the season, a mark to officially begin your summer break, which is always the time you both look forward to because in between martin’s constant flying schedules and your 9-5 hectic schedule, it’s always nice to have one or two week(s) secluding yourself from the entire world, spending day and night only with your boyfriend.

you had to take a deep breath to slow down your pounding heart. can it be?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

see you on the weekend, baby.

martin wasn’t supposed to be smiling this wide. he wasn’t even supposed to smile at all. because despite the sweet moniker, the sender wasn’t his own girlfriend of a little more than two years. worse, the sender had even been deprived of every right to call him by endearments since that painful moment she broke up with him, right when he informed her that there was a better opportunity for him in london.

logically, he was supposed to hate her with all his might—how could he stand someone who didn’t support his growth and development as a young football player? how could he stand someone who only crawled back to him when he was now an up-and-coming name in the football world?

logically, he was supposed to come back home straight from the training ground instead of ordering a bunch of flowers for the next time he met her. why did he feel obliged to bring her a handful of flowers? where did this feeling come from?

martin wasn’t one to understand flowers, anyway. he only bought flowers for special occasions, and that was also because he’d gotten the information yourself about your favourite flower. so why was he purchasing something he didn’t possess the knowledge of, to begin with?

but logic seemed to have escaped the most level-headed person under mikel arteta’s team since the ghost of his past decided to appear before him last week.

“martin, you should know that I’m very sorry for what I’ve done,” she started explaining, and the moment she reached for martin’s hands over the table was the moment his resolve crumbled apart. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I was too foolish to want you all for myself. but I’ve grown up, for you, so that I can be someone you need by your side.”

martin should naturally ask for an evidence, or anything to convince him that she had indeed become better for him, had turned into someone she believed he needed. martin should ask what she had become—could she be like you, the one who put shattered pieces of him together and glued him back to his old self?

martin should prove it himself if this very lady in front of him, who’d inflicted more pain than logically accepted, was a better fit to be his other half than you. hell, martin should’ve even proved it himself that she was no better than you, period. so why did his hand now get tangled with hers, reciprocating the light squeeze she gave him over the table?

why did he think she deserve at least a chance to explain herself?

ironic, really, when his gaffer picked martin to be the captain of his team himself solely for martin’s extraordinary football iq.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

landed! can’t wait to see you! xx where are you?

“martin, baby,” martin jumped in his place, his phone almost fell off his hands, as the sultry voice he loved—and he discovered that he still loves it all the same—tried to lure him back to bed. “what are you doing? come back here,”

the pristine white sheet of the hotel slid down her chest as she sat up, beautiful in between the mess he made of her—her now-tangled hair, purple spots down her neck and chest, red marks down her arms and thighs—and martin’s heart broke into two. one at the revelation at how much he’d missed this sight of her, the other at the fact he needed to leave this behind because he still had you to come back to.

you, who’d been waiting for him at the airport for two hours now, because he forgot about picking you up from your business trip. something he never did during the time you both spent together.

you, who would be waiting for him in his house later, ready to spill everything you went through during your business trip, because you know martin was a good listener and never a judgemental one. because you know martin would always have your back.

you, who had loved him before his name, who have loved him through the calm and the storm of a football season, who always love him no matter wins or loses, and who promises to always love him through thins and thicks.

something came up at the training ground. I’m sorry I can’t pick you up myself.

martin’s heart plopped down the plush carpet as he pressed send, for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge right now. not when a pair of arms managed to snake its way to his waist, eliminating the distance between martin and her in no time and they were now skin to skin, and good lord, was it not satisfying to have no barrier between them.

martin’s heart plopped down to the deepest part of hell, perhaps, when he felt his phone vibrated in his hand—the one that wasn’t busy moulding his body to fit the vixen in his arms—and saw the immediate response you replied him with.

alright, good luck with that. see you at home! xx

you, whose love martin had betrayed. consciously so.

“do you still love her?” was the question the woman martin believed as siren incarnated, fired off as soon as she saw him dressing up, ready to leave her behind in this luxury confinement they called five-star hotel.

brave, martin got to give her that. it was the very question martin kept asking himself as he laid awake last night, facing the ceiling while listening to the sound of her gentle breathing, tickling against the skin just an inch from his pecks. her flimsy finger was ghosting yet so palpable, just like your existence—resting there waiting to be acknowledged, like the elephant in the room.

funny how it was his favourite position of yours since the first night you slept together, for it reminded him of her touch, the very touch he’d lost because she was a selfish human being.

yet, martin was currently the one selfish beyond possible combination of words.

but somehow, martin was even braver for responding her when he himself wasn’t sure he could answer his own question.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t, søta,” he donned his jacket before he leaned down, claiming her lips once more—for what, he didn’t know. to satisfy himself? to soothe the impending thirst that’d been building up unknowingly since she left him? to boost his confidence and justify himself that he was about to do the right thing? “and probably a part of me always will.”

the woman frowned in the way martin was supposed to hate her—she was the reason he’d grown to hate frowny, clingy women—but instead, he shot down a well-placed kiss that she reciprocated in the same fervour, obvious to tell him that she didn’t like sharing. her hands pulled him down further the bed, trying to lull him back to her arms, just like siren personified, and martin laughed in between their heated exchange.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“what if you never come back?” the woman refused to let go of him, hugging him tightly like a koala to his tree. “what if you suddenly realise you love her more?”

“it’s clear to see I don’t love her that much anymore, no?” martin swept the brown locks that reminded him of milky chocolate fondue. sweet, silky, smelt as nice as it looked, as he plucked off one of the peony petals he’d showered her with. “not enough to make me stay with her, anyway.”

martin even surprised himself by saying such words. he didn’t know he was capable of that, he didn’t know how he could have it in him. but if he thought that was surprising, he certainly wouldn’t hold a candle against himself for the things he did—or maybe, had done—to you.

you, whose entire world martin shattered. consciously so, since the moment you parted yourself from the embrace you enveloped him with but whose warmth wasn’t returned.

“what’s wrong?”

he knew it wasn’t easy. it was never easy to be with you since the very beginning anyway—you gathering his broken pieces, you swiping off all of his insecurities and assuring him that you’d wait for him till he wiped off all traces of her, you hiding off your identity so you wouldn’t drag him down in any way possible—but martin didn’t expect them to be very difficult, disclosing all his sins and admitting his faults.

admitting she wasn’t the only one in his heart.

worse, admitting she was never the only one since the start.

“was the emergency that bad at work?”

martin wanted to scream at her, telling her off that she wasn’t supposed to think the better of him, not after everything he’d done to her and their relationship. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to be the bad guy for once for putting herself first. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to live happily without him because she didn’t deserve him.

“don’t look at me like that, martin,” your eyes were as clear as always, and martin’s heart broke once more for you and every of the emotions displayed in your eyes. you were scared of him, of how cold he was being around you, and martin’s heart broke because you had been nothing but warm to him. “what’s wrong?”

you didn’t look any different to him at that moment, still lovable and looked very much like his, in every sense of the word. yet he was no longer yours, in every sense of the word. that was what went wrong.

“nothing,” martin acted the way the word implied. martin acted like nothing was wrong, as he kissed the top of your head and slid his hand into yours. “how was your trip?”

“I just wish you were there,” other days, your words would warm him up—the way your presence always succeeded to—but today, as you didn’t grasp back his hand, you meant every single word that escaped your mouth. “too bad, you know?”

too bad, indeed, my love. what if you stayed? what if she wasn’t here? martin thought inwardly as he poured the risotto he was making.

too bad, indeed, my love. because you’re gone already the moment you come home. you thought inwardly as you received the only dish he’d serve you by far because cooking had always been your thing.

too bad, indeed, as the risotto started turning as cold as the long withstanding iceberg in the form of white marble countertop separating you two. too bad, indeed, as the risotto was beyond salvageable even if you tried resurrecting it with every kind of heat earth could produce.

but neither of you moved, so different to the silent dance you both had been doing around the room. yet everything around you two was as loud as obnoxious bunch of drunkards watching the netflix show playing in your living room.

“you know I love you, right?”

the deep breath he let out indicated everything but, and you had never felt so alone in a room full of him. you were left alone, behind a four-wall full of him—his scent, his words, his voice—with nothing but abundance of confusion in your hands. it was, more often than not, your job to declare you love to him, instead of the other way around like this, so what changed?

“I love you,” yet martin couldn’t look straight into your eyes. “but I’m sorry.”

the confusion in your eyes were still evident and martin’s heart broke for you once more because he knew you didn’t deserve any of this. of him, of what he did, of how he’d been treating you. a small doubt crept in for a millisecond—what if he could fix this?—but he buried them down once more because you deserved this from him, an ending as respectable as you are.

“I love you too.”

no, no, you don’t get to say that. you’re not supposed to say that. you were supposed to throw him a thousand questions why he said sorry to you, contradicting his rather fake declaration of love for you.

“I forgive you.”

martin’s head had never snapped that fast, this time it was him that couldn’t hide his bewilderment. of all scenarios he had in his head, what you just did was never in his card. “you don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” you squared your shoulders, and martin knew you meant your words then. you were so full of love and compassion, and it was why martin decided to forget her to be with you, but now martin wanted to run away for how hard life had come to bite his ass. “I love you. I forgive you.”

“I slept with another person,” and he noticed the slight tremble on those strong shoulders that overcame you. there, he needed that. he needed you to know, to feel, to see reality. “I cheated on you. I want to say that I’m sorry every time and every chance I can but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

you had gone through the worst obstacles there was on this earth—tower of terror, skydiving at palm jumeirah, being struck by lightning. you had gone through even worse obstacles—you’d seen your parents divorced before your eyes, you’d seen your friend took his life in front of you. yet nothing was as painful as the joke martin just threw in your face. you could even brave yourself for a guillotine if given the chance.

anything but the lemon your boyfriend just handed over your open wound. clean-cut and straight to the point.

“you said you love me.”

“I do,” martin replied immediately, as if he was sure of it. as if he was sure that loving you was the right thing to do when he’d just committed the wrong thing to do. “that’s why I’m sorry I did what I did.”

“with who?”

“you don’t want to know who.”

but with martin’s answer, it didn’t take you another second to figure out the woman in question. and you regretted asking immediately because you knew it’d be better if you didn’t know. you could even truly forgive him for what he did, as long as it wasn’t her. knowing who the partypooper was always a better option, because not being able to place a face to a name was always better.

but now you knew about it, and you didn’t have time to save your fragile heart from a heavy rain of sharp knives, endlessly stabbing your open wound to enlarge it even more, giving space for another knife to launch itself to a bleeding heart. you didn’t have time to hide your pain, as tears slowly escaped your eyes.

“why?” you gathered every of your remaining energy to sound brave as you faced your losing battle. “what did I do wrong?”

you needed to know because you’d been doing only the right thing. nothing less than perfect for your boyfriend.

martin wanted to know too because you’d been nothing short of what he needed.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself when martin didn’t give you a response, then you gathered yourself again as you reciprocated his strong gaze. as best as you could anyway. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t enough—”

“no, no—”

“tell me what I can do to fix this, martin,” you pursed your lips, holding back the tears left unshed. “we can still fix this. just… please don’t leave me.”

“please don’t do this…” martin sighed because while he knew you’d always fight for what you believe in, he didn’t know it would bring him a big boomerang instead. “I’ve hurt you. staying with me will hurt you more and that’s the last thing I want for you.”

but that was the last straw for you, the look on his face. he spared you a look of sympathy, an emotion you rather detested because you weren’t a charity case. so you cried, this time not because of the lost cause in your relationship. you cried for yourself, because while you were displaying your desperate frustrations to amend the broken bridges, you addressed such wave of emotion to the wrong person.

“what did I do wrong?”

“it’s not you,” martin wanted to hug you—he still hated seeing you cry—but he knew it wasn’t his place anymore to comfort you. he’d deprived himself of the exclusive right in lieu of another set of different luxurious rights. “it’s never your fault.”

but martin never said it was his, either.

[myosotisa]

Steve Harrington x Reader

Multi-Part:

Try Again - discontinued, tumblr, hurt/comfort, fluff, healing moments, tw: discussions of past sexual assault

*TRATH is The Rabbit and the Hair, a series on AO3

Am I Alive? - completed, ao3, TRATH part 1, hurt/comfort

Warm Ways - completed, ao3, TRATH part 2, fluff

Who's Gonna Carry You Home? - completed, ao3, TRATH part 3, fluff (Steve's POV)

Breathe, Desperately - completed, ao3, TRATH part 4, season 3 rewrite, tw: blood, canon-typical violence

Ask for More - completed, ao3, TRATH part 5, hurt/comfort and smut

Scar Tissue - completed, ao3, TRATH part 6, angst

Ride the Air - completed, ao3, TRATH part 7, hurt/comfort

When Judgement Calls - On Hiatus, ao3, TRATH part 8, season 4 rewrite, tw: blood, canon-typical violence, heavy themes

One-Shot:

Silk and Honey - WIP, tumblr/ao3, smut, dom/sub aspects, soft dom!Steve with discussions of subspace

deep end - completed, angst, discussions of trauma and traumatic flashbacks, post season 4, everyone lives

Take a Seat: Extended Edition - completed, smut, mean King Steve, filthy smut

Sex, Love, and Other Crazy Ideas - completed, smut, kinda dark!Steve, possessive and obsessive but so loving

Car Madness - completed, tumblr, smut, giving Steve roadhead

Dial Drunk - completed, tumblr, angst, hurt very little comfort, tw: major character death, grief, etc

falling down - completed, tumblr, hurt/comfort, depictions of an anxiety/panic attack and comforting thereafter

there are bones in my closet - completed, tumblr, hurt/comfort, tw: discussions of anxiety, ptsd, and trauma post season 4 vol 2

Flip the Switch - completed, tumblr/ao3, smut, breeding kink

ceilings - completed, tumblr, angst, hurt no comfort, tw: cheating/infidelity, dubcon

Blurbs:

Vault Dweller!Steve - Fallout AU

Take a Seat (smutty King Steve blurb)

Steve taking care of you when you're sick

Steve vs Shy Cat

Running Late (Comforting Steve from an anxiety attack)

New and Different (Jealous!Reader with Scoops Steve)

3rd Times the Charm (The 3 times you and Steve tried to have your first time together)

Two Types of Hugs

When Steve Harrington Died

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chapter. 10

Andy Barber x You (Reader)

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, age difference, cheating, explicit language, TW: Assault/Attempt murder

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

Andy wakes up from his cold, empty bed, slamming his hand over his phone to stop the alarm from beeping like a bomb that is about to go off.

Grabbing the phone over, he can’t help but check whether there are any new messages from you during the past night.

On seeing the red spot on the messaging app, his heart leaps to his throat.

It has been over a week since your shouting match. After that terrible nightmare, Andy has sent you

So the apologizing texts help. He sighs in relief, clicking the app open.

Neil: Hearing is on the day after tomorrow (19th) starts at 10:00 am in Court 5. Third floor to the left in the courthouse.

The heart in his throat hits the bottom of his stomach like a fallen rock from the cliff.

Andy: Thanks man.

So the apologizing texts didn’t help. He curses.

Treading through the deadly silent hallway, Andy reaches his destination – the kitchen, and turns on the coffee machine.

He has three courses today, each lasting roughly two hours. He could use a coffee in the morning.

He makes coffee in the morning almost daily, since he has a busy schedule in all mornings except Wednesdays and weekends, and the first thing to do after he wakes up in the morning (after checking his phone for new emails and messages), is to turn on the coffee machine.

You would join him in the kitchen after the nights you stayed over, mixing a deadly amount of milk and sugar into the bitter coffee, making it sweet and smooth. You sip your light-colored coffee, grinning like the cat got the cream, and jabbing his coffee isn’t “real” coffee because you declared that drinking the bitter sour black stuff he has in his mug is inhumane.

You would share a kiss while making breakfast together. He still remembers your sole option: jam, French toast, fried egg, and you will make all these ingredients into a French toast sandwich if there’s lettuce in his fridge.

Before realizing it, Andy is pouring coffee into two mugs, having milk and sugar ready on the counter.

His hand freezes in mid-air as he realizes it, looking at the second mug.

It is completely unnecessary. Quite a waste too, now that a tea spoon of sugar has melted into the coffee.

Andy lifts the mug to his lips, tasting the bittersweet drink he accidentally made, before dumping the rest of the sweet coffee down the kitchen sink.

Before regretting his decisions again.

He could’ve brought the coffee he made to you, could’ve camouflaged it as a peace offering, could’ve taken the chance and told you he’s sorry-

Yet where could he find you?

Andy huffs out in annoyance, cleaning the mug and the coffee drops he spilt on the counter. He has asked for your course timetable earlier this semester, and unfortunately, your courses were taught in different buildings than his.

Guess all he could do is to wait.

Andy shuffles the printed slides into his suitcase, grabbing his car key and hurrying out of the door.

Every nerve running down his body rejects the idea of “waiting”, yet there’s nothing else better to do at the moment.

Wait it is.

You allow yourself to groan in unison with others as the projector and the microphone that your lecturer uses are broken, and taking nearly ten minutes for some IT guy to try and fix these things didn’t help at all. Professor Rifkin is out of options but making a call to someone, whom you guess is Professor Klein, asking for a new classroom that could function properly.

“Let’s go, people, our new classroom is in Sackson House Room 104.” Professor Rifkin gestures to the whole class, which consists of about 50 students in total, packing up her things, and heading out.

“Hope we won’t get to meet that whacko lady.” Your barely-friend Fiona pokes your waist with her finger, making you jump.

As a result, your thigh hits the edge of the table hard.

“Shit!” You curse, covering your palm over your thigh.

It is going to bruise.

“Oh shit!” Fiona lets out a small chuckle, almost all her teeth baring, “I didn’t know you’re that sensitive.”

You didn’t bother answering. Didn’t bother glaring. You have made enough bad decisions in your life to understand not to go down with the sinking ship – for example, your meaningless friendship with Fiona and her shenanigans.

“Hey Y/N!”

You swing your backpack over your shoulders, not looking back.

“Y/N, wait!” Fiona calls again, “Don’t be so petty-”

She can kiss your ass.

You leave the classroom without another word.

An idea hits you when you are looking for the perfect seat in this classroom.

Room 104 is the place where Andy had his Creative Writing lecture last semester.

When you were scoffing at his iron fist controlling the class and found out that he maybe-kinda-perhaps like your works.

Looking back at the eventful past few months, you sigh, hoping that you were in some kind of rom-com movie and that justice will dawn upon Andy. Having him break an arm or step into a mud pod.

As of Laurie. You weren’t besties with her, to begin with, but you sincerely wish that she would focus on her husband instead of you, even though you were not entirely innocent in this whole charade.

Biting the end of your fountain pen, you try to shake your head and leave those thoughts alone. Andy is past tense now. You tell yourself. There’s no need to be soft or have mercy, even if he sends those apologies almost daily.

It is not long before the bell rings and the class dismiss.

Considering the options for lunch, you hesitate between cooking something decent or make-do before heading to the groceries this afternoon. Dwindling in thoughts, stepping out of the building with dozens of students at the same time, the corner of your eyes didn’t catch a glimpse of a deranged woman running towards you, fast.

A brunette in a brown cardigan. Her hair wild, cardigan has dirt and mud all over, pupils dilated.

Laurie.

“Cheat! Cheater!” She shrieks, when she spots you among all these students, pulling something out of her dusty handbag, causing a few students to either duck or scream.

“Knife!” “She has a knife!” “Someone call the cops!”

A faint murmur grows louder, and louder, until everyone in the vicinity of Sackson House, including you, realizes there’s a lunatic carrying a knife.

“RUN!” A girl screams. So does everybody. So do you.

“Cheater!” Laurie shouts, waving her knife, pushing a few students out of her way.

She’s coming to kill you.

Your heart skips a beat in all the thudding noises it makes. Your eyes witness Laurie running in a firm direction – you, and you are too scared to move a muscle.

As if having learnt teleportation, Laurie moves way too fast for a woman with heels, closing in every heartbeat.

Karma has got you.

“Laurie!” Someone yells with his booming voice, “What the fuck-”

Your ears ringing. thighs buckling. You kneel on the ground, covering your head with your arms.

The expected pain did not arrive.

Some warm drops of water did.

With a loud “Clang” that almost makes you jump, the sharp kitchen knife that Laurie waved around is thrown onto the ground, a few inches away from your feet.

Campus security has tackled Laurie onto the ground as well. She is still shouting “cheater”, struggling, but aiming at someone to her right, someone-

Someone she hurt. The redness dripping from the kitchen knife, the water on the back of your hand, the crimson splattered on the ground-

Blood.

A contorted scream wrangles itself from the column of your throat, as the smell of salty rust of blood hits your nose.

Someone she hurt, someone who is wounded, someone who got stabbed by the knife, who is clutching their arm, with blood leaking through their fingers-

Andy.

Everything else is a blur.

By the time you regain your senses, you are sitting at the back of a firetruck, like a few other girls, with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a police officer standing in front of you, taking notes on her pad.

“What’s your name, Ma’am?” After questioning the others, she finally comes to you, flipping a new page on her notepad.

You state your name with a shaky voice.

“Okay, Y/N. Do you mind telling me the whole thing? Starting from the beginning.”

The first intuition of your mind is to tell the story of your relationship, starting from the beginning, when Andy taught your class and everything that happened afterwards.

But your instinct forbids you from telling this officer everything. Even in your incoherent state of mind, you know that the best-case scenario after telling her about your affair, might list you on top of suspects, that you provoked Laurie in some way, resulting in her trying to murder you.

Your dull expression must have triggered something, for the officer softens her voice and rephrases her question: “Don’t worry, Y/N. It is just a formality. Now, why are you here, near Sackson House at 11:52?”

That.

That you can answer.

“I … um, we were supposed to have the class, Research Development Seminar, in the Kraig Building, but the electronic stuff broke down and… we moved to Sackson House to continue the course…”

“11:52, that’s around the time your course started? Or finished?”

“Finished.” You let out a short exhale, “I was heading out of this place when someone screamed ‘knife’ and I … They pushed and shoved, and I followed them out- ”

“Them? Whom do you mean by ‘them’?” A sharp look comes from the officer’s expression.

“Students, I guess. A lot of them, I think.” You answer in a small voice.

“What happened next?” The officer takes some more notes on her pad.

“I think… I tripped. There was this crazy lady waving her knife – Is An- Professor Barber alright?”

Andy. He was bleeding. The ambulance came and took him away. Was there paramedic? Or …

“You know the victim?” The officer must have sensed your nervousness, for she manages a smile on her face, “It’s just routine. Professor Barber is taken to the E.R. to get stitched up. It’s a small cut on his arm, he’ll be alright – You said ‘Professor Barber’, does that mean you know him?”

“Yeah – Yeah, I know him. He taught us a course last semester.”

“Do you know the attacker? The woman with the knife?”

It sounds routine, but you can’t help but doubt whether the officer knows about the affair. Despite being uncertain, you choose to lie rather than to tell the full truth, “I think … Professor Barber yelled ‘Laurie’? Or Laurel? I’ve never seen her around before.”

The officer casts a skeptical look, as if having seen through your half-truth, “Anything else? Anything unusual or you want to tell me?” To which you reply with a faint shake of the head.

“Call me if you remember anything.” She pulls a card with her number and name printed on it, handing it to you, “Good day, Ma’am.”

“Can I ask you something?” You hesitate for a second, but these words come out of your mouth.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I was wondering which hospital is Professor Barber being taken to?”

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

[otemporanerys]

A playlist for my species swap Shakarian fan fic set during Mass Effect 2

The playlist | The fic

Liner notes below the cut (tw discussions of suicide)

Happiness is a Warm Gun - The Breeders

I always like to start my playlists with something to set the mood - this is definitely an atmosphere song. I also like using covers for species swap, and a different one kicks off the ME3 playlist lol if I ever get around to writing that. The defamiliarisation sets up the AU

2. In the Wake of Your Leave - Gang of Youths

OK so technically tracks 2 and 3 are cheating because they're actually for Interregnum, leave me alone

Anyway! Sad bangers are my jam, and I wanted something that conveyed the grief of losing someone, but giving the energy a bit of a kick after the Breeders song

3. I Don't Smoke - Mitski

I'm a basic bitch who loves Mitski, what can I say?

No, this song is for the Gareth sad spiral (TM) and for the fact that sad smoking is cool, actually (don't @ me)

4. Peel - Weakened Friends

This is a Shepherd song, you know, the beginning of her terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad nervous breakdown.

There was an earlier version of LBEL which was much more actively about Shepherd trying to bring Cerberus down from the inside: but actually now I think the lyrics speak much more to Shepherd feeling like she always has to fit the mold of the pragmatic, practical soldier

5. Toy Soldier - The Menzingers

This is thee Garrus song, sorry I don't make the rules. The lost friends! Carrying on despite that loss!!! Dutyyy

6. Wicked Game - Chris Isaak

Gareth is kind of an old soul, which is why his songs lean slightly more retro - and just the deep well of yearning in this song always gets me. It's very much his feelings after Shepherd saves him, loving her and wishing he didn’t

7. Born to Lose - Sleigh Bells

I primarily associate this song with Shepherd being discarded by the Hierarchy and the struggles she has with knowing protocol is to kill herself

8. You've Got to Hide Your Love Away - The Beatles

Gareth: conceal, don't feel 😢 I have always loved this song and it's very much Gareth knowing that he can't be open about his feelings

9. Quitter - Weakened Friends

More good mental health time for Shepherd, excellent. I don’t mind repeating artists in my playlists but I do tend to keep it to one

10. Bullet with Butterfly Wings - The Smashing Pumpkins

The one thing I am actually a snob about with playlists is not using too many "popular" songs, but I did like this one for Horizon. Shepherd's really starting to spiral here, folks

11. Anybody (Stripped) - Dead Sara

Horizon sex, Shepherd POV. She's so lonely in this fic, really longing for connection, and this song is the words she doesn't know how to say

12. Baby I Got the Death Rattle - Los Campesinos!

Horizon sex, Gareth POV

This is one of those songs that doesn't start as a blorbo song, but if you tell me you've heard a lyric that's more "Garrus Vakarian down bad" than "Baby I got the death rattle and baby I got it bad | I've been digging my own grave for quite some time when I'm not digging up the past" then I would love to hear it

13. Bedroom Eyes - Dum Dum Girls

One of my favourite bits of LBEL is the quiet intimacy that Gareth and Shepherd have when they're sleeping together, and this song reflects that

14. Hopeless - Screaming Females

Shepherd dumping Gareth because she likes him too much 😭 I'm fine. The lyrics and the vocals are so plaintive, again the emotions Shepherd won't allow herself to express

15. Something Bigger, Something Brighter - Pretty Girls Make Graves

This isn't a terribly literal inclusion, it's a good angsty-sounding song for where Shepherd's at post-breakup

16. Heavy Metal Heart - Sky Ferreira

This is just. Shepherd's song 💖 I love it, and her

17. Apocalypse Now (&Later) - Laura Jane Grace & the Devouring Mothers

This is a great Mass Effect 2 song more broadly but man is it perfect for Gareth and Shep reuniting just before the suicide mission!!!

18. The Hand That Feeds - Nine Inch Nails

Fuck Cerberus, part 1. There just is not a better song for being done with someone else's bullshit

19. Search and Destroy - Peaches

Fuck Cerberus, part 2 (or, how Shepherd got her groove back). Peaches always has such brilliant swagger and I adore this cover - Shepherd coming back into her own power and recognising how dangerous (and unpredictable) she can be

20. I Would Find You - Oceanator

I adore this song, the softness and kindness at the end of the world. It's really the thesis statement of the fic, and a promise for Gareth and Shepherd going forward, even through the hard times. It was the perfect grace note to end on

[davenswitcher]

I got tagged by the wonderful @cinnamontails-ff for WIP Wednesday!

I'll be showing two wips that I have.

WIP Wednesday:

To be or not to be

TW: parents are shitty, heartbreak, maybe unhealthy coping mechanism, parents dictate their sons future

Chapter 1: The Stage Is Yours

Astarion loved the theatre. The creativity, the beauty of witnessing a live performance and forgetting any problems he currently has for a few hours. So, it came to no surprise when he joined a theatre club back in high school to the disappointment of his parents. His parents loathed the idea of him eventually becoming an actor. Acting does not pay bills and leisure, they said, and hoped it’s just a phase.

So, when he graduated and told them his plans and what he wants to study, his parents couldn’t believe their ears. He and his parents never fought badly, mind you. But this must be the most heated argument he ever had with his parents in his 22 years of living.

“You can’t be serious Astarion! Acting is a poor man’s profession! Do you want to ruin our reputation? Our family consists of a long line of magistrates and doctors. So, naturally, you will study law. End of discussion!” His father scowled. His anger could rival that of a barbarian.

“Father, please.” Astarion pleaded, “I can not see myself locked in an office overseeing cases and making judgments for the rest of my life. I’m a free-spirited, individualist. I’m not made for a profession like that.”

“Listen to your father, Astarion. He knows what’s best for you. Besides, your job is not supposed to be fun. It’s for the purpose of financing your life and societal status. Our family’s status was built on hard-working academics.”

“I’m going to my room.”

“Son, manners.”

With a sigh, Astarion replies: “May I retire to my room, please.”

His father replies stoically: You may. And son? Your grades have been lacking the past months. It’s not up to par with what we’ve come to expect from you. We might discuss this later, though.”

As he enters his room, he slams the door shut and locks it lest his parents come in uninvited. Why can’t his parents understand? Why can’t they accept his choice?

He sits down at his desk and takes out his diary. It has become a habit for him to write his feelings and thoughts down. Ever since his puberty, the constant turmoil of feelings and the ever-growing expectations of his parents, he found it easier to write his thoughts down than to talk about them with his parents. Which is a huge shift because he used to be very close to them. Especially his mother, who understood him and even talked him through his first heartbreak. It was painful to see her little angel go through the pains of a heartbreak. He loved them so much. He and Quinn planned to move to Baldur’s Gate together and study. Astarion would study the arts of theatre, while Quinn would become a doctor. They had a bleeding heart and wanted to help and heal beyond Baldur’s Gate. Until Astarion caught Quinn having a quickie behind the school's gym with his classmate Sheila. He wordlessly went away, lest he say anything hurtful to them. Quinn tried to talk to Astarion, but how are you going to justify cheating on your partner? Especially with someone your partner hates to the bone? The next day, after the cheating incident, Astarion and Quinn talked it out in their lunch break and Quinn broke up with Astarion. They were his first love. Together for three years, from fifteen to eighteen years old.

The following two weeks were very hard for him. He missed classes and stayed home the whole time. Crying and blaming himself how he couldn’t have foreseen the signs. They were there, weren’t they? Cheaters drop signs all the time they cheat, don’t they? One night, in a fit of sadness and self loathing, he sneaked into his bathroom and cut his hair. From hip length locks to neck length curls. He loved his long hair. It was always decorated in the finest elven jewellery, but not any more. He’ll keep the short hairstyle for years to come.

The Rockstar and The Groupie

Chapter 1

“Estellé”

It was Friday afternoon. Just three more hours and Estellé would be free for the week, and she could finally go to the concert she had booked the tickets for. Fourth row and VIP. She was going to meet him! The most famous rockstar of their generation and everybody's favourite bad boy. Estellé saved up half a year for the tickets. VIP tickets were even more expensive than regular. Well, makes sense you're going to meet THE star, after all. Astarion Ancunín. Rockstar, bad boy, sexiest man alive 3 times in a row.

Estellé worked over time a few times to even afford to save up. As a college student in linguistics and philosophy, you don't get paid like the trained hotel workers do. She lived in a small flat that costs what feels like more than it's worth, the university fees have gone up (not by much, but it still hurts) and has to buy expensive textbooks every new semester. The least she could do was reward herself with a good time. Especially if it's her favourite singer and songwriter.

“ESTELLÉ!” Estellé was startled out of her stupor by her least favourite colleague. “Where did you put the guest list for the coming season? I told you it needs to be visible for us. Always. Lest we let in someone who didn’t rent a room here.” The “Swords Of The Sword Coast”, where Estellé was working at, prided themselves for being exclusive and luxurious. The hotel had a list of guests and if you didn’t rent in time you had to wait a season. Maybe two if a certain rockstar rented multiple floors to have privacy. Astarion was a frequent guest in the hotel thanks to his manager. Apparently his manager knew the founder of the hotel. It used to be a motel for pirates around three to four centuries ago, he told him.

According to a colleague he arrived four days ago, but she hasn’t seen him come out of his room yet, and he orders his breakfast and dinner to his room. His manager said to her, “it’s one of his moods again.” She shrugged it off as rockstar eccentrics, although being so reclusive doesn’t match his stage persona, she thought. Astarions manager creeped her out a lot. He’s rather tall and has a piercing stare. Does he ever blink? His hair is slicked back and he talks as if he’s the star not Astarion. Most of the stars requests she receives are through his manager. Cazador Szarr is his name. He has been working for the Crimson Label for a few decades now. He took Astarion Ancunín under his wing when he used to play indie rock and grunge in small taverns. His look was not as glamorous and his hair was shorter and unkempt. A far cry from today. His usual stage wear nowadays is black, leather, fishnet and a bandana. His makeup is either smudged around the eyes or perfectly done with eyeliner, mascara and eye shadow that is black with a hint of silver. Thus, his blue, gold flecked eyes seem to pierce you even more.

“Miss….?” Estellé was rearranging a few things behind desk to leave the desk for the next colleague who'd take the next shift when she was startled by a soft voice. “Miss, I have a request to make.”

“Oh, Mr. I didn't see-” When she turned around she saw who was standing in front of her. Dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair tugged in a bun and yet still manages to look good.

“Mr. Ancunín I'm so sorry. What can I do for you?”

“Don't call me Mr. please. Mr. Ancunín is my father.” He leans forward and reads her name tag. “Estellé… what a beautiful name. Estellé, would you be so kind to send dinner a little later to my room? The show starts in a few hours and I'll be at the hotel at 1am or 2am at the latest. Would this be possible, darling?”

He called her darling and Estellé might think she's melting and heating up at the same time.

“I'm sure this can be arranged! I'll tell the staff that takes the next shift to send your dinner to your room when you've come back.” She answered in a higher pitch than intended.

“Thank you very much.” he does a little appreciative bow and leaves.

[aceofwhump]

I know that it’s not realistic to headcanon that all of my favs are ace especially when there is canon evidence that says otherwise but it’s not my fault that all my blorbos are actually ace so 🤷‍♀️

(I have only seen broadchurch s1 and s2, but spoilers for those, and TW for not entirely enthusiastic sex/internalized acephobia/Tess being Not Nice to Alec and also Alec being Not Nice to himself…)

Alec Hardy is ace and always has been. The thought of sex makes him mildly nauseous. He might not know precisely how to label how he feels but as gross as the deed makes him feel he really truly did love Tess romantically and he tried to make her happy and do what she seemed so enthusiastic to do (and he got Daisy out of it so he’ll never regret it), but his reluctance (“Can’t I just hold you instead?” Tess rolls her eyes and shifts away from him on the bed, brushing his hand away when he reaches for her) may have been a contributing factor to things falling apart.

He asks Becca because he’s so confused and he’s such a mess and people keep saying it will help (it never has) and if part of him is so disgusted with himself he thinks he’d deserve it anyway nobody needs to know…

Nonny! Oh my god! Now to preface, I tend to do the same and just headcanon all my favorite characters as ace because I'm ace and I can do what I want. BUT! I've headcanoned Alec Hardy as asexual since I first watched the show!!!! He's one of my favorite ace headcanoned characters!!!! Oh I'm thrilled to talk about this.

Alec Hardy is totally asexual!!! All of what you said. All of it. My headcanons incoming! So he has ZERO interest in sex and always had. He did it just to please Tess but would never initiate and after a while Tess got pissed off and annoyed at always having to be the one to initiate and believes he doesn't care about her since he doesn't initiate anything physical. That, coupled with Alec never being home because of work, was a major contributing factor to her cheating on him during Sandbrook. Alec never liking sex but yes like you said he got Daisy out of it so in the end he can't regret having sex with her (even though he didn't want to have sex).

After Daisy starts living with him she notices how little he dates and how disgusted he usually looks when anything sex related comes up that she asks him if he's asexual. He's never heard of that before and she shows him some websites and he finally finds the word for what feels.

Ahh god I love it! So many ideas!

Oh guess what! I've found a couple of fics with ace Hardy! Please enjoy!

It's not like love at first sight is an actual thing by thisisarandomuser Summary: A night out in the pub and a conversation with his daughter help Hardy to make sense of his sexuality.

Recalibrating by pulse_in_the_pages Summary: Alec Hardy didn’t understand what all the fuss was about sex. Or, four times Hardy didn't know he was asexual, and one time he did.

Admissions Aren't Easy by Asexual_Enjolras Summary: When forced into sharing yet another hotel room with just one double bed - once again - for a new case, DI Alec Hardy and DS Ellie Miller soon discover that their relationship is a lot more developed than what it was the first time this mess-up happened at a reception desk. While settling into their new room, Alec reminisces about the hotel, having stayed their with his ex-wife in the past. In their discussion, Alec finds himself admitting that he is - in fact - an asexual man. Ellie tries to comfort him as all of his truths begin to spill out, and then they find their feelings for one another also beginning to come to light.

italicized oh for the realizations by strawberryopals Summary: Daisy Hardy talks to her dad, and they both realize something about him.

Our experiences have shaped us by brokenlycan Summary: Alec had been very stressed lately so the two of them decide to surprise him with something to help him relax. But it backfires.

[rey-jake-therapist]

MY FANFICTIONS

IT'S SO COLD

BBC SHERLOCK FANFIC

SUMMARY

Picture yourself as Molly Hooper, head over heels for a man who barely notices you and when he does, it's generally to demean you. And yet you're a brilliant pathologist, a kickass woman who's carved her space in a male-dominated world. You're also the woman who helped said man fake his own death and kept his secret for two years straight. You're the woman who got engaged to a man who looked like him because no other man could ever compete. You're the woman who knows him better than he knows himself. You, Molly Hooper, are the woman Sherlock respects and loves in his own way, he just does a shitty job at showing it.

Written as a contribution to Sherlock Challenge November 2023. Prompt: 'cold'.

RATING: general audiences

PAIRINGS: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper

STATUS: complete

LINK AO3 ⬇️

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF US (DAY 18: CHANGE)

THE SANDMAN FANFIC

SUMMARY

In the wake of Morpheus’ death, Johanna Constantine, Hob Gadling meet in a dream at the Green Dragon Tavern, where Nuala the Fairy works. They discuss the influence that Morpheus had on their lives and the love they had for him, as well as their remorses. Despite being unable to change himself, he changed them, mostly for the best.

Written as a contribution to Sandtober2023.

RATING: general audiences

PAIRINGS: references to past Morphanna, Dreamling, Sandflower and beginning of... Nualanna? (Johanna/Nuala)

TW: several mentions of a major character's death (Morpheus)

STATUS: complete

LINK AO3

BITTER SWEET LULLABY (DAY 4: FAE)

THE SANDMAN FANFIC

SUMMARY

Once upon a time, eons before Titiana became queen of Faery, Dream of the Endless -called Lord Shaper by the Fair Folk-, fell in love with a princess fae named Eleanora. While Dream has just learned that Fiddler's Green, the heart of the Dreaming, fled for the Waking World, he finds comfort in his memory of a happy moment he shared one day with the fae in the fields of Fiddler's Green, as well as the lullaby she sang to her.

Written as a contribution to Sandtober2023.

RATING: general audiences

TW: none

STATUS: complete

LINK AO3

RISE AND SHINE

THE SANDMAN/SWEETBITTER CROSSOVER

SUMMARY

It's just a short, sad but also sweet story where Jake is lost in a nightmare where he's haunted by old ghosts of his, memories of his past he needs to leave behind to finally move on. Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, is here to guide him through the darkness into the light so he can rise, and shine.

RATING: general audience

TW: references to suicide, abuse and grooming

STATUS: complete

Link AO3

LOST SOULS

A SWEETBITTER FANFICTION

SUMMARY

On Valentine's Day, Mina arrived to New York City from Los Angeles with a bag full of trauma and a half empty suitcase for only baggage. She flew to the Big Apple to see a friend and take a break from a toxic relationship, and hoped to leave a painful past that kept haunting her behind her.

Nothing went as planned, but as Mina began to think that going so far away from home was a mistake, she met a handsome stranger in a nightclub. Jake was nice, fun, incredibly sexy and apparently available. What could possibly go wrong?

RATING: explicit

PAIRING: Jake x OC

TW: references to suicide, rape, abuse, grooming and cheating

STATUS: work in progress

AO3 link

SOUNDTRACK ON SPOTIFY

THE SANDMAN META

Overture: is Dream the only one to remember?

Am I an idiot or... (Dream and food)

Could Jessamy be the first Vortex?

Hob Gadling's forgotten wives and girlfriends

Fandom and misogyny (Endless Nights spoilers)

BBC SHERLOCK META

The lying detective: self-hatred and acceptance of abuse

[trevorendeavors]

So. That Florida Bathroom Bill, huh?

TW: bathroom bills, transphobia, internalized transphobia.

I ain’t beating around the bush. I will be using strong language here. If that ain’t your cup of tea or if you’re just here for my usual brand of gay fanart and fic, it’s okay to scroll past this post. Really. I won’t judge. This is one doozy of a vent.

For the people in my DMs asking me if I’m okay (as a trans person in Florida considering recent bathroom bill bullshit) I’m just… sitting here with an exasperated sigh.

It’s funny that the first time I hear of this is from a DM from someone on the other side of the world. I’ve been deliberately avoiding lgbt Florida news for some time because the more I think about it, the harder it is to be civil in transphobic conversations.

Last night I was deadnamed in front of a few people, and today at my graduation I’ll likely be deadnamed in front of a whole convention center. That’s what I get for not changing my name legally, huh. Oh well. Didn’t wanna go through all the paperwork just yet (in case I go for a different name) so I’m stuck with the one I’m sure I don’t want.

So again, I try not to think about it.

But yeah. It sucks.

Honestly? The bathroom bill doesn’t change much for me. It’s still the same shit as always.

The one time I went into the men’s restroom, I freaked out a cis guy so badly (poor dude was genuinely scared of ME accusing HIM of something bad) that I never did that again.

As for women’s restrooms (the one I most frequently use) that’s a whole other deal. Most days, I don’t pass. I’ll just go out and say that. I have a high voice, boobs, and a bit of hips. Some days I dress really feminine too, so it only makes sense. No one here is going to buy “see I LOOK like a woman but no see I’m secretly a ‘man but not quite’ inside but I wear makeup as a kind of exaggerated cosplay of a gender I am NOT, y’see?”

I don’t want to have a nuanced discussion of gender in the bathroom. Most people 30+ in age don’t even know what non-binary is and barely get the concept of trans. As much as I love being and educator and advocate, after a long road trip I want to piss and get on with my life. Also cis men have told me the horror stories of male bathrooms (how do you get shit ON the ceiling????) and then I’m thankful to have been “born a woman” or whatever.

Most days I don’t think about it too hard. But on my more dysphoric days or when on the blessed days I do genuinely pass more masc - when I go into the bathroom looking like this:

I genuinely don’t know which bathroom to use.

It’s embarrassing. Especially when there’s no family restroom available. And when I go to the women’s restroom, I sometimes get these looks. Brief, surreptitious glances they think I don’t notice. To ease tensions, I lift my pitch and give a compliment. I even puff out my (binded) breasts slightly as if to say, “Yes, I have tits and a pussy, does that soothe your cisnormative and petty fears that I would assault you?”

Jesus, some days I wish I could say that quote outright. But I can’t, and I know it’s not fair to them. They’re scared, I get it. I remind them of a traumatic experience. Sometimes, certain people who have nothing to do a trauma invoke fears of it unintentionally by raising their voices or saying something off or even existing. But that’s MY responsibility to fucking deal with that. Other people can’t help existing.

By and large, people with transphobic tendencies here are usually nice. Beyond, nice even. They’ll help you host a spontaneous ice cream party. They’ll buy you allergy meds when you’re choking. They’ll take you in after your mother kicked you out. Like I said, genuinely sweet and kind people.

Which makes it harder when they accuse trans people of transitioning to skirt military drafts, to cheat at sports, to deal with mommy issues. When they equate gays to sex crimes (yes, the ones you’re thinking of). When they refuse to call you your full name. When they call you a baby who refuses to clean her pooped diapers.

I try to be nice. But by god, is my patience waning…

By. Fucking. god.

I’m tired of the way it’s affected me. Making me feel worth less than cis folks, like my feelings matter less. Even worse, I hate how it makes me jealous and spiteful towards younger trans folks in better situations. Younger trans folk I don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an excuse to mistreat them the way I was mistreated. And I’m genuinely glad that they’re living a better life. I have to work on these thoughts, it’s my responsibility. It would be nice, though, to live in a world where I could devote more energy to celebrating our collective existence instead of surviving it.

That being said, I’m grateful for the people here and in person who have stuck by my guns. The people who check in on my when shit gets worse in terms of politics.

What helps most?

What really helps is when people get mad WITH me. For so long I was told my anger was something to be stowed away, to be quietly extinguished with calm words or relieved by some masturbatory exercise of civil discourse. You know. Where you get off to talking civilly but don’t actually get anywhere and you still have to live in a world that was just as transphobic as before. I just want people to be pissed WITH me. To share in my anger and frustration. To join me as I slam the desk, flip the table, and cry to the heavens,

This fucking sucks

Right now this matters to me even more than action. These check ins, sharing in my anger - it helps, it really does. Makes me feel less alone in the world.