#//honestly the best part of not seeing himself in the mirror anymore is not being able to see her face

[mechahero]

//WELL-

[twilightkitkat]

Plenty of people talk about how Logan would react to Vanessa (mainly how he'd become jealous and insecure over her relationship with Wade), but have you ever considered how Vanessa would react to poolverine?

To seeing her ex-boyfriend—the man she'd given her entire future to, expecting for them to get married—move on?

Don't get me wrong, Vanessa "moved on" too, but it wasn't the same. She started dating one of her coworkers casually, trying to create a "normal" life for herself, but you can tell her heart wasn't in it. That she liked him, maybe, but didn't love him with the same ferocity she loved Wade with.

She had been prepared to start a family with Wade. To have children together, to marry him and love him despite all his flaws and his gruesome appearance.

And yet... he started slipping away. He said he wanted her back, that he'd give up the world to save her, but what about now? When she was saved? When she was back alive, back home.

He was capable of fearing for her life, of revenge, of embarking on journeys across the seven seas to get her back. But was he capable of keeping her? Of living a quiet life with her and being content?

You can't say that Vanessa didn't try. That she didn't love Wade enough, because she did. You can see her desperation at the table, trying and failing to get through to Wade. You can almost feel the resignation as she realizes this man wasn't the one who fell in love with her.

Because, despite her support and company, Wade still felt empty. Like he had a higher purpose he hadn't achieved. He felt the itch under his skin, the ache in his chest, gnawing and raw and eating him alive. He cared, of course he did, but it wasn't enough.

And Vanessa knew this. She didn't break up with him because she was disappointed in his lack of achievement—she'd support Wade no matter what his goal was. She broke up because she realized that she wasn't enough anymore.

She might've been enough, once, before scars marred his skin and unspeakable trauma was hidden behind his eyes. Before Francis tortured and killed the man he once was, leaving behind a pile of ashes that had to build itself up from scratch into a person again.

But she couldn't understand him like she once could. Couldn't relate to his trauma when it ran through his veins. Couldn't hear the screams echoing in his ears. Couldn't silence the disgusted voices in his head when he looked at his mangled face in the mirror.

She tried to accept him, tried so hard to reach him, but she couldn't fully understand him. She couldn't. And so she let him go.

But you can't let go of a decade of your life that easily. Of course, she missed Wade. She missed him and loved him and a part of her was still waiting for him to come back and kiss her and mean it.

But then he brings Logan home.

And Logan is everything she's not. He's rough where she is smooth. Masculine where she is feminine. Mean where she is nice.

But, above all else, he understands Wade in a way she couldn't.

Understands the itch for blood. The haunting voices ringing in his head. The constant feeling of wrongness, like his body was a tool or a weapon but never quite his anymore. The pain. The suffering. The trauma. The loneliness.

And it hurts.

To see Logan do what she couldn't. To see Logan live the life she'd once dreamed of, loved and matched by Wade in all of the ways that matter.

It makes her question what she'd been doing wrong, if she could've done anything differently to finally get through to Wade. Because this was evidence that it was possible. That someone could force Wade to confront himself and make Wade content. (It's proof that she wasn't enough. That her efforts meant nothing because it was her who was the problem.)

But she smiled at Logan and Wade, together. Gave Wade her best wishes, her congratulations. She was honestly happy for him. She wanted Wade to be happy, even if it wasn't with her. She knew he deserved to feel loved and cared for and understood.

But still, a small, bitter part of her feels irrationally angry. At Logan. At Wade. At the universe.

Wade got his soulmate, his other half. He finally met someone who matched his crazy and meant it. He was radiant with joy, bouncing with an energy Vanessa hadn't seen since before his diagnosis.

And her relationship was going well. It was fine. Dermott was nice and handsome and polite.

But that was it. He took her to romantic dinners while Wade took her to arcades. He gave her flowers for her anniversary while Wade gave her the ski ball token he'd saved on their first date.

It was good. But it wasn't passionate. There wasn't the same chemistry—the same connection. Dermott asked her about her favorite color and all Vanessa could think of was Wade and her pouring over names for their future children.

But he was gone.

He was Logan's now.

Logan, who's traumatized and grieving and fucked up and an alcoholic. A broken man. (Was Vanessa really any better, at this point? A shiny new job and relationship don't cover her flaws. The emptiness.)

(At least now she understands, even fractionally, what Wade was going through. It's a bitter, sobering thought.)

He was Logan's, not Vanessa's.

Was he really ever hers to begin with?

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc

[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy

[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his

[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick

[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience

[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes

[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that

[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.

[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."

[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side

[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you

[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s

[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore

[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife

[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too

[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up

[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying

[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime

[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you

[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you

[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still

[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him

[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two

[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often

[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking

[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you

you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion 🫶🏻

here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami

xoxo sarah <3

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous | next

...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

previous | next

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[lzaisv]

WRIOTHESLEY . NIGHT SHIFT

sypnosis; being clumsy isn't easy. doing a poor performance due to how you lack skill at work only leads to you earning less credit coupons, which is a result of your week only having one day off. wriothesley, who adores you so much, offers to help you earn credit coupons.

afab!reader

NSFW UNDER THE CUT ; MINORS DNI !

Wriothesley who adores you so much.

Ever since he first saw you in the infirmary, sitting all alone and a bruise on your wrist, you caught his attention right away.

He thought that Sigewinne might've been getting supplies for your wound, and you seemed rather lonely so he approached you and asked about your wound.

When he talked to you, it came to his surprise that your clumsiness got you accidentally tripping and your wrist hit on one of those super sharp areas of a nearby pipe. You explained to him how you couldn't really earn credit coupons that well since you were not used to this environment, and you told him how you were basically really clumsy, too, you were really nervous talking to him back then since you've heard a lot about how he was a cold and mysterious man, but somehow, he managed to change the way you perceive him. 

Now, you saw him as a caring man that had a strong sense of responsibility, welcoming rather, too. He radiated an aura that let you feel safe and comforted by him. The light jokes and sarcasm he had made you feel better.

Since that day from the infirmary, Wriothesley notes to himself about your schedule and he always tries to be there to see you. Initiating small talk that allowed you two to be closer. And everyday, he would see you working hard on your task, only skipping work at least once every week. So when Wriothesley figured out that you struggled earning credit coupons, he proposed a way to let you earn more coupons. He suggested that you could help him out with something in his office, and you'd earn credit coupons in return. 

You were honestly tired from working almost everyday a week, so you agreed. You needed those credit coupons.

So the following day, you went to his office at the exact time he instructed you to come. It was rather late at night, and most of the inmates were asleep already. You thought the task he had stored for you was things he doesn't have time for like cleaning his office, organizing paperworks neatly, just those stuff.

But you were wrong.

Somehow, you're here with your chest facing down on his desk, your hands handcuffed behind you, a mirror infront of you, and your pussy being wrecked from behind by his grace.

“ah ─! shit.. tighter than expected.” wriothesley groaned from behind, his cock slowly entering your intimate area, your eyes shutting tight from the stinging pain of him slowly entering you. He was hung, after all. He only entered half of his length inside you, but you couldn't help but tear up. “it hurts, your grace.” you whimpered, you don't know how much you could take, he wasn't even fully inside yet. 

“i'm sure you could take it all, fuuuuck, your pretty pussy's clenching down on me.” he scoffed, his hands placed down on your waist, tracing your curves with his thumb. “It's like it doesn't wanna let go of me.” Wriothesley had a sly grin on his face, trying to keep his cool and not just enter you in one go. He was trying his best not to lose his self control. 

But once he's fully entered you, now this is a whole different level.

Once he was fully inside you, wriothesley seriously could not stop himself anymore. “'m sorry, princess. I'll give you extra coupons for this.” he warned you, and that got you confused, “h-huh? Wha ─!” your eyes widened, a gasp coming out of your mouth as he started ramming his cock inside your cunt with no stopping. He moved quickly, and still managed to reach the deepest parts of your area that you never thought would be possible to reach.

Your head fell on his desk, tears forming from your lower lash line, and your fists clenching as you tried to protest, but you couldn't. Only whines and moans came out of your mouth, and you were going dumb so fast. 

“fucking─ ngh, gorgeous.” he mumbled in between his low moans. He just adored you. Ever since you stepped foot in the fortress of meropide, that was the first time he was thankful a person even committed a crime. He couldn't stop looking at you, visiting the cafeteria almost everyday just to sit right next to you and ask you about your day. He loved listening to you ramble on about your day, and whenever you mentioned how tiring the jobs were, he would speak with the guards who were there to supervise you with your task to lessen the work for you so you wouldn't have to be so worn out everyday. 

These little gestures of affection were his way of saying he wanted you. And to have you here on his desk, all being fucked dumb, he couldn't be even more thankful to the archons above.

“you don't know how long I fucking waited for this.” he whispered in your ear, yet his sharp thrusts where uninterrupted. Although, he was aware you couldn't even think as of now and just went dumb on him so easily. “going dumb already on me, angel? How cute.” he praised you, placing a kiss on your cheek. 

“'m gonna ─! 'm gonna cum, wrio ─ !!” a high pitched moan came out of you from your nonsense babbles and whimpers. Pleasure was overtaking your brain, all your senses going stupid. 

“hnghhh, go on, milk my cock.” he insisted, his movement becoming sloppier, and he could tell that he himself was close too. He was aware he shouldn't cum inside you, with the possibility of even knocking you up, he could ruin your life. 

“inside, please.” you whined at him, turning your head back on him, drowsy eyes looking at him, begging for him to cum inside you, and who was he to refuse such an offer? That was enough to push him to the edge, and after one last thrust, he spilled his load inside you as you orgasmed, filling you up to the brim, causing your eyes to roll back to your skull.

Immense pleasure washed on your brain, seeing stars, and it felt like a warm embrace, enveloping you with a sense of contentment.

Wriothesley pulled out after cumming inside you, seeing his cum overflow from your sweet pussy, he couldn't help but use his fingers to stop his load from coming out of you, he just adored you. 

“aren't you just the cutest? as promised, I'll give you 5,000 credit coupons for this.”

© lzaisv . do not copy/steal, translate, modify my work.

[leclercstars]

ROCKSTAR. [pt. 3]

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: It's the same thing as pt. 2 but from Lando's POV so it's even SMUTTIERRR!!

Warnings: 18+! Sexting, masturbation, mention of various sex acts, slight dom!Lando.

Lando was exhausted. He laid face down on his massive hotel bed, his boxers pulled low, hanging off the edge of his hips.

While his P3 finish was exciting, that wasn’t even the best part of his day. Some hot girl in the crowd had the best tits he had ever seen, and the fact that she was strutting around with his signature emblazoned across one of them was thrilling. And Oscar’s signature on the other? It doesn’t get much hotter than that, he mused to himself. 

He finally mustered the strength to open up his phone, and was taken right back to that moment at the paddock walk when he opened the photos. Her tits sat so perfectly, and her nipples were barely peeking through the fabric of her papaya-colored tank top. What he wouldn’t give to have his face smushed between them right now. If he was to die, that’s how he wanted it to happen. Suffocation by titties.

His phone buzzed and he noticed a notification pop up on the top of the screen. A text from the girl. It felt flirty, and he honestly could not resist the thought of seeing more of her. He shot back a response, essentially implying that he absolutely needed to see her naked. A few minutes passed. Fuck, had me messed this up by being too forward? He didn’t want to come off as desperate either. 

But his phone buzzed.

And it was the most glorious thing he had ever seen. 

Every curve was on display. The way her waist flowed so effortlessly into her hips. And most importantly, her perfect tits were fully on display, nipples hard, pressed together as she leaned forward in the mirror. His and Oscar’s signatures were still visible, the faded words giving him a sense of ownership in the best way possible. He responded, hoping she would send more for him to gawk at. He couldn’t wait much longer though, as he felt the pressure of his erection growing under his boxers. Fuck it, he decided. If she sends more, awesome, but he knew just the one photo could get the job done.

He took his throbbing cock out and spit on his hand, stroking himself slowly. He relaxed his body back into the pillows, throwing his head back as his hand rubbed along his shaft. He was so fucking hard just because of a photo of this random girls tits that he felt like belonged to him and Oscar. He imagined how perfect they would look bouncing while she rode him, or how great it would feel to flick her nipples with his tongue. Precum was slowly starting to leak from his slit as he got closer and closer to the edge, an orgasm burning in his taut abs. He writhed with pleasure as he imagined tittyfucking her, playing with her nipples as he slid his wet cock between her soft boobs. 

His soft moans were turning into gasps as he edged himself, wanting to draw out the various scenarios that were running through his mind. He could hardly take it anymore, his unruly curls beginning to stick to his forehead as he circled his thumb around his tip.

Explosions of heat shot through his entire body, making him nearly scream as his cum shot all over his abs. The white substance was splattered all across his perfectly tanned abs. He slid his boxers back on and grabbed his phone. She must have fallen asleep while he was jacking off, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Plus, he thought the morning was the horniest time of day anyways. He took a picture of his cum-stained skin. “Thanks!” was all he wrote. He hoped she appreciated his cheeky response. He didn’t even know this girl’s name- but he was in Austin for one more day. And he would do a lot to have his hands replace her bra.

part 1

part 2 linked at the top ;)

PART FOUR??? IDKKKK I KINDA LOVE THIS SERIES

[braids-and-prayer-beads]

mermaids are pretty, tattsun is pretty. if mayoi would go blind at this moment, atleast it's tatsumi he'd see for the last time.

mayoi knew more than anyone not to be late. he would often get scolded for everything so this should've been already engraved in his mind. and yet here he is, running out of breath as he navigated his way through the seaside, still wearing the lace-y white dress he was given as a gift by his lord. it wasn't his fault that the lord of the mansion wanted him to run around the whole town for some errands but of course mayoi disagrees, it's no one's fault but his honestly. it was always his fault.

it was only nine in the morning and yet the sun has completely risen up and scorching his skin if not for the parasol he was carrying shielding his pale skin. this is why he does his best to arrive way before the meeting time in fear that the blazing sun would make him faint as if being around crowd wasn't enough to make him feel sick, but alas those times were different and he's already way past the time they agreed to meet, there was no use thinking too hard about it.

there was a thump in mayoi's chest. anxious? most probably. has he been waiting for him? mayoi stopped on his tracks for a moment, its been atleast three hours past the time they agreed on, he can't be waiting for him right? he must've ran out of patience because of his stupid sin of not working fast enough right? but mayoi shook his head as he remembered the type of person that person is. that person is kind as a breeze in a scorching heat like this, something that mayoi was never familiar of. that person would also always knew what to say, words that would always feel like a warm blanket embracing him in a cold rainy night. he was different from them. he showed mayoi nothing but patience and kindness so despite mayoi's negative thoughts permeating his mind, he reminds himself that that person was nothing like them. so even if part of mayoi wanted to bury himself in the sand for being late, he threw that idea away and continued his steps.

mayoi only slowed down his steps when he arrived at the part of the seaside where only few people would pass by. noticing that he was out of breath he quickly tried to compose himself, quite a shame that there was no mirror around—?! wait why was he suddenly so bother with how he look like when he usually doesn't care about it? .... why was he so anxious to meet him again? why does every thought of him makes him flash a small smile? ah he doesn't want to think about it anymore. slowly he approached the huge rock partly blocking the view of the sea, being careful not to slip.

slowly, mayoi peeked behind the huge rock.

oh

oh

so that's why his chest has been poundering whenever the thought of him crosses on his mind.

just behind the huge rock was a sight so beautiful none of the paintings he has seen in his lord's mansion could ever compare, keeping in mind that those paintings were masterpieces created by painters popularly known for their skills and talents all over the country. but even with that comparison, its an understatement.

he was greeted by the back of a figure seemingly waiting for his arrival, his long hair beautifully resting magnificently, it was so green it that could might as well rival the beautiful shade of the deep ocean. upon hearing his arrival, the figure snapped to look at mayoi's direction, and god— if there truly was one, mayoi could swear on that god that this was the most beautiful person he has ever seen. it was of course, the lovely tatsumi.

the boy before mayoi was just like a puppy, so happy and eager to see him again. when he spotted mayoi a gentle smile was flashed on his way. mayoi wasn't sure if it was due to the blazing sun but he felt his cheeks heating up due to what he saw. mayoi couldn't help himself but glance at the boy's other half of the body, there just above the smaller rocks, lay a tail as beautiful as the owner himself. it was the same shade of tatsumi's hair. so beautiful. continuing the comparison of tatsumi to a puppy, his tail excitedly splashed the water just like how a puppy's til would wag when excited.

"mayoi-san! i have been waiting for you!"

[fleetingskylark]

/head in hands/

today I shall bring an um... nsfw A-Z headcanon of Lee HAGSJAGAJ I am going to be very self indulgent and yes this is my personal headcanon so you may agree or disagree orz

i'll put it under the cut below. stay away if you cannot handle nsfw orz

A–Aftercare

Lee wouldn't really give any aftercare besides asking you if the session was painful or not, or whether you find it enjoyable or nah. He will also pat you a lot. Other than that, he prolly won't do anything.

B–Body Part

He'll enjoy every part of you, but enjoys your neck, ears, and chest the most.

C–Cum

Since he's a construct, he can't really cum (unless Asimov installed some module similar to human reproductive systems) so if anything his length would just vibrate. As a human however, he'd just taste like sin /hj

D–Dirty Secret

He secretly enjoys going inside his own M.I.N.D. and imagine himself fucking you. May look like he's in a trance when doing it.

E–Experienced

He knows a thing or two before he became a Construct, but after that he just does his own 'research' to give you the best feeling. He's the awkward first-timer, but improves as time passes.

F–Favorite Position

He enjoys every position as long as he's with you, but loves missionary and standing up a lot.

G–Goofy

I–Intimacy

Lee is more serious when it comes to sessions with you. He focuses on pleasuring you and himself, though he may tease or taunt you with his words. Joking in bed isn't his forte.

H–Hair

Constructs don't typically have hair over there. But as a human, Lee would groom himself pretty well and keeps his hair short.

Lee makes sure that he feels amazing, and so does you. However, if he's in a domineering mood, he'd just use you like a personal cumdump.

J–Jack Off

As a Construct, he'd just do as mentioned on the 'Dirty Secret' section of this post. As a human, he'd lock himself in a room and masturbates when he craved for you.

K–Kink

Degradation, tying up, blindfolds, mirror sex. Personally, he'd enjoy seeing you being nothing but a common slut when you're alone with him in bed.

L–Location

He prefers doing it somewhere private, like his room, your room, or the office when no one is around.

M–Motivation

Whenever you tease him about how good he would feel inside you, it would get him going. He has a good job of holding back however–until he can't take your teasing anymore and straight up fucks you.

N–NO

He would not like it whenever you would look like you're in genuine pain. He loves his kinky stuff, but if you feel discomfort around him, he'd immediately stop and calm you down before asking if you'd like to continue or not.

O–Oral

He prefers receiving slightly above giving.

P–Pace

Depending on his mood, Lee could take it slow and make you feel the best pleasure as he grinds into you. Or he could just pound you in a fast pace and make you cum over and over (as a human, he'd cum again and again too honestly)

R–Risk

If Lee feels like it, he would ask you to try a new kink or a new toy. But most of the time, he prefers following your desires when it comes to trying new things. Your comfort is his priority, no matter how kinky he could be.

Q–Quickie

He does not mind quickies once in a while, but prefers long, actual sessions where he'd get to enjoy you fully.

S–Stamina

As a Construct, he could go until you're completely worn out since Constructs has bigger energy than humans. As a human, Lee could last around five to six rounds.

T–Toy

Sometimes, he would use something like vibrators. If he's not in the mood, then his length is enough.

U–Unfair

Oh, this man ENJOYS teasing. Especially if he's in the mood to be a do-S dom. How he teases you is up for you to decide.

V–Volume

Lee's voice is breathy, and he is slightly loud when he is nearing the edge.

W–Wild Card

He lowkey has a submissive side to him, and enjoys getting degraded the same way he enjoys degrading you. Will never admit to this, though.

X–X-ray

Length is around 15-17 centimeters, be it as a human or as a Construct. Also, quite thick.

Y–Yearning

Lee's drive is somewhere in the middle, as he has a pretty strong self-control. If his drive is at a high however, tease him a few times and it's all over.

Z–Zzz

Constructs don't typically need rest, but he would accompany you to sleep. As a human however, he falls asleep roughly 15 minutes after the session (unless he has enough stamina to continue a few more rounds until morning)

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 34: never take advice from someone who's falling apart

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Ceryse had spent the whole day packing. It was a rushed decision to leave, but she couldn't take it anymore. She made sure Martyn had sent a raven to their father to tell him to expect her arrival soon, and then she made sure that every single thing she owned was in a case, in the carriage that would take her back to her home. The last strange and off-putting year of her life, all packed and ready to go.

She looked around the now empty room, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, when her Goodmother walked in. It caught her completely off guard, as they had both been avoiding each other ever since she had married into the family. Ceryse could never read Visenya’s expression, but at least she could tell she didn’t look upset. 

“You’re leaving.” she said plainly. Not at all a question, just a statement. Visenya looked at her, her face unreadable, but Ceryse didn’t shudder under her unnerving eyes. She couldn’t let her get the best of her. She refused to lose her patience, no matter how much she wanted to scream at her. 

“I am.” she nodded, mirroring her plain tone. “You must be pleased.” she added, seeing as Visenya seemed to be content with standing in complete silence. Gods, how did Rowan manage to be around her so much without losing her mind? Her goodmother did not seem offended by the comment.

“I am not, believe it or not. I do think it’ll be what’s best for the time being.” she shook her head slightly. She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, like it should’ve been obvious to Ceryse that she wanted her to stay, even though she had made it so clearly obvious that she couldn’t stand her. She had made it so clear that she was not the bride she wanted for her son, so much so that she caused such a mess by performing a whole new wedding for him.

“The time being?” Ceryse asked, raising a brow. Did she expect this to be like a long vacation? A small, awkward pause followed. It seemed that she had expected Ceryse to read her mind or something.

“Yes. Perhaps it’s best for you to be with your family until things settle down.” she finally explained further. Ceryse supposed this could’ve come from a good place, a place of worry for her safety, but it only unnerved her more. Did she expect something dangerous to happen to the half-built palace? The dowager Queen looked around the room, before furrowing her brows. “You’ve packed everything?” she asked, her tone disapproving, implying that she shouldn't take everything with her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever return.” Ceryse answered honestly, seeing no reason to lie to the unnerving woman before her. All the Targaryens had an unnerving aura around them, but the two that had the strongest ones were Visenya and Maegor. Aenys was the one that acted more like a normal person. Visenya shook her head again, as if what Ceryse had told her was just a suggestion.

“You will. In the future. To a much calmer palace.” she replied. There was something ominous in her tone, something that made Ceryse worry. She couldn’t foresee Aenys taking charge and fixing all the uprisings and problems that kept appearing, so was she planning to take control instead? Should that worry her, since she had ruled for years in the past? Visenya sighed, before speaking up again.

“Things were not ideal for you, and I’ve played a part in that. One day we’ll make up for that.” she said, her tone much more human and sincere this time. It caught Ceryse even more by surprise, as this was probably the first time in the year that she knew her, that she saw Visenya act as anything other than a harsh Queen. She could almost be mistaken as apologetic. “Goodbye, Ceryse.” she said, and left her alone in her room to finish packing.

The conversation kept repeating over and over in her mind, as the carriage kept going. It was by far the most ominous goodbye she had ever received. Lana and Rowan gave her a tearful goodbye, Rowan especially sad to see her go. Ceryse made her promise to visit, as she couldn’t think of a better escape from the absolute insanity going on in that family. As she had mentioned it to her brothers, it came to light that she wasn’t the only Hightower to invite Rowan to Oldtown.

“And you just invited her like that?” Ceryse asked, jokingly kicking her younger brother on the knee. She didn’t want to dwell on her goodmother on the long way home, she’d have time to worry about it from the comfort of her room. For now, she could at least laugh at her youngest brother and his attempts at flirting.

“What do you mean?” Morgan asked, almost offended at the implication, crossing his arms right away. In so many ways, he still acted like he used to when they were young and she’d tease him. 

“Awkwardly, in a hallway while your sister is upset in the room right behind you?” Martyn stated, raising a brow in amusement. Gods be good, Ceryse could almost picture the surprise on Rowan’s face. Now she was wishing she hadn’t left in such a rush, because she would’ve loved to make fun of her brother with her best friend. 

“How romantic, Morgan!” she exclaimed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. His face even managed to make Martyn laugh, despite his anger. All three siblings were angry at what had happened, but seeing her eldest brother crack a smile was certainly a soothing thing. 

“It wasn’t awkward!” Morgan defended himself, but seemed to realise that anything else he said would be used against him to be teased relentlessly, so he just kept pouting, promising his siblings that he’d rather continue the journey on horseback than to be stuck with them teasing him.

“Of course it wasn’t.” Ceryse said, shaking her head. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to have Rowan visit with her father. Their own father had been a bit ill and seeing an old friend again would make him feel much better for sure. And perhaps they’d conclude their reunification with a proposal, a match between her brother and Rowan. It would be a nice occasion to have a wedding that Ceryse would look forward to. And the fact that her closest friend would remain close to her. 

It was something that just hung up in the air with uncertainty, what would happen when her husband would return from exile. Would she be expected to return by his side and pretend it’s all well and good? In what world would his actions be somehow accepted after some time passed? No, she wouldn’t return at all. She couldn’t stand the thought of his stupid fucking face. He’d have to come drag her out of the hightower with Balerion himself if he cared so much to do so.

Returning back home to Oldtown filled her lungs with air again. She finally felt like she could breathe. She was home, where everything was just as she remembered it being. Her father even had the rare show of pure relief to see her and embrace her again. She tried not to dwell on any feeling of failure, the thought that if she had given Maegor an heir, then none of this would’ve happened. But no one blamed her, no one looked at her with any contempt, instead they all welcomed her back home warmly. 

Their father had invited them to speak, to try and make sense of what to do in the future, when a young squire ran in the room, bringing a letter with the unmistakable Targaryen seal. Their father took the letter from the boy’s hands and dismissed him. All three of his children looked at him with curious eyes, a silent question waiting to be answered. 

“What does the letter say, father?” Martyn spoke up, his arms crossed. Ceryse herself was alarmed. She had just been able to breathe and relax in her own home, would the King have demanded she return? No, surely not, it made no sense. The last time she saw Aenys, he only gave her an ashamed, but apologetic look. He wouldn’t demand her presence.

“It’s not just a letter.” her father’s voice caught her attention again. “It’s an invitation.” he added, reading it again and again, which worried his three children even more. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading and wanted to make sure of it before he spoke it out loud. Now she was confused, they all were. 

“An invitation? To what?” she asked. He certainly wouldn’t be throwing a feast for no reason. There weren’t any holidays coming up, and there were certainly more important things for the King to address before he threw a big feast to celebrate. 

“To a wedding.” their father responded, his eyes still scanning the letter over and over again. That was certainly not what anyone was expecting. A wedding? 

“A royal wedding?” she asked. “But all the King’s children are still so young.” she added. Rhaena was the eldest one, had he found her a match already? He had never mentioned to Ceryse that he’d even been searching for a match, but she supposed it was only normal for him to want to find his daughter a good match. She was his only daughter and his firstborn, it was expected that he’d be more attached to her. But still, a wedding? At her young age, Rhaena should only be betrothed, nothing more. Was he trying to marry her off to avoid some scandal? But Princess Rhaena was always in line, never one to care about boys.

“The King believes that it is ‘the perfect time’ for Rhaena and Aegon to marry. Each other.” their father finally said, after leaving them in silence for a moment. 

Silence filled the room, like they all didn’t want to believe what they just heard. Did she hear that right? Was the King somehow planning to marry his two young children to each other? Disgust was clear on everyone’s faces. There had been this unspoken understanding that the Targaryens would adapt the Westerosi culture, as Aegon and his sisters accepted the faith of the seven. It was clear that incest was a huge sin, absolutely no cause for celebration. All the disgust aside, Princess Rhaena couldn’t have been bleeding for longer than a year, and Prince Aegon had just now started using a real sword in his training.

Ceryse knew Aegon better than his sister. He was a quiet boy, but not too shy, who followed all his lessons dutifully. He was always polite to her and they would sometimes chat, and she had promised to teach him Cyvasse one day, if he did well in his lessons. He did have a more mischievous side to him, as he loved playing pranks with Rhaena. 

Rhaena, she didn’t see much, as she would spend all of her free time flying with Dreamfyre. During feasts and gatherings, she was more introverted and shy, and Ceryse always got the impression that being around people would tire the young Princess. She was not one to socialise, much to Queen Alyssa’s dismay. 

That’s how Ceryse viewed them as; children. To ever imagine that the two would be soon bound by marriage, it was wrong, so very wrong. She could not imagine being forced to marry one of her brothers, it was unnatural and a disgrace to even think about. 

“Who would even perform such a ceremony?” Martyn finally broke the silence in the room, turning to their father, who offered him the letter to inspect as well. He read it, and offered it to her as well, as he crossed his arms. Ceryse scanned it, hoping to discover that this was a misunderstanding of some sort, but no. It was indeed a formal invitation, in the writing of the King himself, which meant he specifically wrote to them to invite them. 

“No septon would ever perform such a sin.” Morgan frowned, shaking his head in pure disbelief. Did Aenys realise what he had just done? Part of her hoped that he had only written to them, that they could burn this letter and pretend it never happened, for the consequences would be severe.

“Murmison. He would do it.” she finally said, finding her voice again. That man had been whispering in the King’s ear, she was certain that he had a role to play in this. He should’ve prevented the King from doing this, but Ceryse knew that he was encouraging it all. Was it out of foolishness, or was he that eager to have war declared on her goodbrother?

“Uncle will be furious once he hears of this.” Martyn said. He was right. Their uncle would certainly not be silent, not when he had been waiting for the dragonlords to step out of line. Had Aenys written to him? Invited him to perform the ceremony himself?

“Does he really expect us to go? To support this?” Morgan asked, looking at her directly. Ceryse frowned deeply. She couldn’t for the life of her understand how Aenys was thinking. And Alyssa? Where was she in all of this? How could she be okay with this? Then again, she was a Velaryon, she would be used to these customs.

“I don’t know what he expects to happen. I don’t even think he understands this is like a declaration for war.” she sighed, handing the letter to Morgan, so he’d get a turn in reading it too. Gods, she had only been gone half a fortnight, and now this was happening.

“The poor kids.” Morgan sighed, disgust clear on his face. “They’re stuck in this.” he said, returning the letter to the hands of their father. Morgan had only seen the Princess and Prince a few times, but he certainly did not think they were ready to be wed, let alone to be following this disgusting custom.

“Gods be good. What has he done?” Manfred Hightower pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he never let his only daughter get involved with the Targaryens at all.

Rowan quietly watched as the Queen helped her daughter adjust the intricate headpiece, which she was not used to wearing. It was strange and sad to watch this little girl about to enter a woman’s role when she was barely fifteen years of age. Could Rhaena even comprehend why everyone seemed so uneasy, so disgusted with the match? How could she? She was just a child, brought up with the idea that it was her duty and honour as a Targaryen, how could she speak against her match?

The only positive Rowan saw in this was that the young Prince and Princess got along very well and already spent a lot of time together. Princess Rhaena would not be stuck with a harsh and impossible husband, but rather someone she knew well and got along with. The thought of that gave her some semblance of peace, if she looked past the massive catastrophe this match would bring along with it. 

The dowager Queen had left the room where Alyssa was preparing her daughter for the announcement of the betrothal, taking Rowan with her. She never spent any time with her grandchildren, well, they weren’t really. She herself had never called them that. Rowan was glad to be out of the room though, as it only filled her with dread for what was to come. Helping Visenya prepare for court was a much more familiar and calming act.

“Does this disgust you greatly?” Visenya asked as Rowan brushed through her long silver locks. While she never brought it up to her before, she was sure her face betrayed her feelings. She wasn’t disgusted by the children, of course not, but the whole practice was…

“It’s… unusual. I thought this tradition would end after you all converted to the faith of the seven.” she answered, beginning to braid her hair in the updo she preferred. She never lied to her, never feared telling her how she felt about anything, she saw no reason to start now. Visenya gave her an understanding look.

“No, my girl. This tradition is an important one. Do you not remember what I taught you of Old Valyria? You were the most diligent of students.” she asked again. Rowan loved to learn, still did, but she loved it when the former Queen would teach her, when she’d recite stories and tell her of the history. Of course she remembered.

“I understand that it was to ensure the family fortune would remain within the family. But the crown would still belong to the Targaryens regardless of who Aegon marries.” she replied, but still had her doubts. It wasn’t like they’d be losing out on fortune, if anything the practice stopped them from getting more resources. 

“It’s much more than that, you know this.” Visenya said, handing her a golden clip to pin the braid she had just finished. Rowan paused for a moment, knowing exactly what she was alluding to. She nodded.

“Rhaena has a dragon. That’s what must remain within the family.” she said, continuing with her brushing and braiding. Keeping the dragons within the family, that would be the wisest thing to do. It’s what set the Targaryens apart, what granted them the power, giving away would be foolish. But then it only brought up more questions for Rowan. If Rhaena had no dragon, would she be free of the practice? Was every Targaryen woman bound to the practice if she wanted to have a dragon of her own? 

“There you go.” she smiled, nodding. Rowan wanted to ask more, so much more, but there wasn’t much time, and their relationship was still healing. She wondered often if Visenya had ever questioned it, or ever felt like rejecting the practice altogether. Had she always known she was to marry her own brother, or had she been made aware when she was older? Rowan knew that she always loved Aegon, but was there ever a time when it all felt wrong?

“Still… you know nobody will accept this. There will be repercussions.” she added, trying to focus more on the task at hand. She worried about riots, about something more serious happening. Riots had been happening here and there, but once the news of this broke out, Rowan couldn’t imagine what that could bring up. Visenya seemed eerily calm.

“I do not doubt it. Perhaps my nephew will finally grow a spine, who knows?” she asked lightheartedly. Rowan had given up trying to get Visenya to care a bit more about Aenys. She understood that there was simply too much there, but she had hoped she’d at least be on his side a little bit more.

“It’s just difficult to accept, I suppose.” she sighed, taking another golden clip from Visenya’s hand, making sure the braid had a perfect place. Even when she was young, she found the marriage between the three conquerors disturbing and wrong, before she knew all that lay beneath the surface. Now that she was a woman grown, everything just appeared more disturbing, especially when it came to the young Princess and Prince. Visenya gave her a sympathetic smile.

“My dear girl… you know that, had you married Maegor, the children you two had together would follow this practice, do you not?” she asked. Rowan’s movements stopped entirely. She looked at her through the mirror with shock. Rowan absolutely had dreams of having a family with Maegor, she had loved him so much, for so long, but none of those dreams involved… this. She wanted to raise her children in the faith, to find them all happy matches for their futures, she never thought the incestious tradition would carry on. Visenya immediately looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry… It’s easier when you don’t think too much about it. Think of them as cousins, if it helps.” she said, quickly changing the subject. She supposed if she pretended they were cousins, while still disturbing, it would be easier. 

“Are there… news?” Rowan asked after a moment of silence. “From Pentos?” she added, looking away from the former Queen’s gaze in the mirror, continuing to braid her hair. Rowan knew she shouldn’t ask, she knew it would be easier on her shattered heart to not hear from him at all, to ignore his very existence, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend he wasn’t on her mind at all times. The dowager Queen shook her head lightly, as to not disturb her from working on her hair.

“Nothing groundbreaking. He offered to send me some exotic herbs he found at the markets.” Visenya sighed with a small smile forming on her lips. Rowan heard lots of things about the markets of Pentos, especially the ones near the port. Any city near or on a port was to have prosperous markets, but Pentos had a lot of interesting things. She almost smiled at the sweet gesture of him sending his mother something he knew she loved. “He was very pleased to hear of your project.” she added. Rowan blushed, shaking her head.

“It’s hardly my project. I only offered to help support the septon get the approval from his grace.” she answered quickly. She never wanted to give out the impression that she was somehow in charge of this. It made her blush when she thought of him being happy to hear about her news, and if she ignored everything else that happened, she would even smile with joy. But she couldn’t forget what he did. 

“And help them plan it, and finance most of it?” Visenya asked with a raised brow and a smile. Rowan met her gaze through the mirror, suddenly feeling very shy. The septon asked for her help because she and her father were constant presences in that space, and have helped a lot since the city had formed. He also knew that she had some wealthy friends that would help if needed, and indeed with Ceryse’s help, the contributions to the expansion grew greatly. It wasn’t like Rowan was the one laying the bricks.

“I only offered to help where I could…” she trailed, feeling somehow embarrassed. Visenya’s smile did not falter, however. 

“He wanted you to know he was proud of you. As am I.” she said warmly, as Rowan placed the last braid in its place. She felt like she hadn’t done so much to earn their pride, as kind as it was for them to say. 

“I…”

“Do not deflect my pride now. I know you are one of the most capable people in this city, and certainly the one I trust the most.” Visenya countered her doubts before she could even speak them out loud. Rowan looked down for a moment. Why were they proud of her? What had she done to earn pride? She shook her head lightly.

“You flatter me too much.” she said, taking the brush from the vanity. For a moment, the air between them felt light again. 

“I do not spare flattery.” the dowager Queen countered once more, this time more firmly. She could already hear the sentences she wanted to add about not being too humble and that she was capable of doing great things. Rowan wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it at the moment. “I did hear someone, a certain knight, has invited you to Oldtown?” she asked, changing the subject completely.

“Ser Morgan. Yes, he invited both my father and I.” she answered, a bit surprised that anyone had told her. She’d have to ask one day, maybe she’d reveal how she got to know everything that happened within the palace walls. 

“For tea and a chat?” Visenya asked, her tone clearly urging her to say more.

“For a few moons.” Rowan replied, reaching for the hair oil on the vanity, to finish and perfect her hair. She wasn’t sure how she’d even approach this. 

“Rowan, I know the past year has been hard on you, on your heart, but have you not given any thought to a suitor? I understand Tybolt Lannister was not your ideal choice, but this time, this one seems more serious.” she said, turning to now face her. Her eyes were sympathetic, apologetic too, as she seemed to understand how much this still affected her so deeply. Rowan let out a small sigh.

“I know. Ser Morgan is a lovely man. He would make a fine match, but… I only feel guilty.” she confessed, looking to the floor in shame. Morgan, in truth, was a dream match in every sense. It would unite their houses once more and strengthen their bond, not to mention they got along very well, and she’d get to live in Oldtown, which she had always wanted, plus she’d be Ceryse’s family. How many women would be this lucky to have a potential match be this good and compatible? And yet…

“Because he has taken a liking to you?” she asked, a look of disbelief on her features. 

“Because it would be unfair. I cannot dedicate my heart to him…” she replied. Rowan felt so spoiled and ungrateful at that moment. Well, truly, during the whole time Morgan was showing interest. He was absolutely lovely, a man difficult to come by, a man that her father would be so happy to marry her off to. And yet she still loved Maegor with all her heart. It was so unfair, so cruel. Visenya grabbed her hand softly, getting her attention once more.

“You need not devote your heart. Most do not. You know how marriages are planned, you’ve known since you were young. I’m sure that with time, it will be easier.” she stated softly. It was true, it wasn’t even unheard of for a couple to meet at the altar for the very first time, then slowly start to care for each other. Love could grow where people nurtured it, yes, but Rowan felt like she’d be lying to him, that she was betraying him before a betrothal was even suggested out loud.

“I don’t know…” she sighed again. In truth, she wasn’t even sure when she’d visit. Her father was travelling to sell their house’s wood and honey to their usual buyers, great houses all over the kingdoms. And Rowan wanted to stay here, as much as she yearned for home and for Oldtown, she felt like she had to stay by the King’s side, as well as Visenya’s.  “You’d be alright with me living in Oldtown?” she asked, this time more lightheartedly.

“Certainly not. I’d have him stationed here, to keep you close to me. Who better to keep you safe than Vhagar?” Visenya smiled again, shaking her head. The air felt light again. Rowan smiled at the mention of the dragon, shaking her head as well.

“I don’t think we’ll need to bother her with my protection, I doubt it’ll come to that.” she said. She couldn’t imagine a situation where she’d need Vhagar to help. She stayed away from trouble, followed every rule, she hoped there was never anything that serious directed at her.

“You know she’s grown fond of you. How long must I push you to join me for a flight? Just a short one, over the city.” the dowager Queen asked. She loved to fly. In her own words, it was one of the only places she felt safe to be herself. It was safe to be up in the clouds where nothing could touch you, freeing even. It was an honour she even offered for Rowan to join her at all.

“You know dragons frighten me! I can be around her, but that’s about it.” Rowan shook her head again. Maegor and Visenya had gotten her to touch her scales a few times, once even getting her to pet her snout, all while clinging onto Maegor for dear life, of course. But flying? No, Rowan couldn’t find it in herself to entertain the idea. Her cousin, Erin, always made fun of her about it, calling it a huge missed opportunity. Perhaps Rowan could invite her to join the former Queen. The thought made her smile.

“Mark my words, my girl, one day I’ll get you to join me. Let it be before I’m too old to climb on the saddle.” Visenya smiled lightly again. 

“I cannot promise that to you.” Rowan countered, a more playful tone in her voice now. Visenya smiled, seeming glad. She got up, checking her hair in the mirror before giving Rowan a look of approval and thanking her.

“Now come. Let us go, the King awaits.” she said, leading her to the throne room, where the lords and ladies of the court awaited. 

The announcement was not met with any joy, as Aenys had been certain of, but disapproval and awkwardness and disgust. Silent judgement from the lords and ladies who still wished to be on the King’s good graces, as well as fake smiles, but some even responded with outright animosity. It was heartbreaking to watch the young Princess and Prince’s smiles drop at the reaction, and the confusion in their eyes as they looked toward their mother and father for answers. Rowan also worried for the Queen. Her pregnancy had been giving her a hard time this time around, and the maesters had strongly suggested a calm and relaxing environment.

Aenys was devastated, his hopes crushed. But the worst was yet to come. A raven from Oldtown, from the HIgh Septon himself, declaring the match an abomination, an act against the gods, and threatening heavy repercussions should the betrothal not be broken right away. 

Rowan had been helping Visenya with her correspondence when Aenys rushed through the doors, the distress clear on his face, the letter in his trembling hand. Before Rowan could even react, Visenya spoke up.

“Nephew.” she greeted him firmly, the way she always did. She seemed so calm, like she was expecting things to play out this very way.

“Your grace.” Rowan greeted, far more formally and with worry in her eyes at his state. Aenys only nodded in acknowledgement, trying to catch his breath from rushing here.

“I… I do not know what to do.” he said, his voice betraying confusion and even fear. Rowan had already gotten up from the desk where she was writing the dowager Queen’s letters, and felt so bad she wanted to give him a hug. But she remained in her spot.

“With what?” Visenya asked, despite knowing exactly why, as it was so clear and obvious. Rowan looked at her with pleading eyes, silently begging her to be kind to him, especially with how clearly distressed he was. These were his children that were affected, and therefore he was more stressed than ever before.

“With this.” he said, handing his aunt the letter with his shaking hand. As Visenya read, Rowan wondered if he was angry. He seemed worried, even fearful, but was he not at least a little bit angry at the reactions he had received? Visenya finished reading, and handed the letter to Rowan. She read quickly, worried to see what had happened.

“It’s quite simple, nephew. Either you break the betrothal and find new matches for your daughter and son, or take your dragon to Oldtown and have the High Septon answer to him.” she replied bluntly. Rowan visibly stiffened at the suggestion of violence, as did Aenys, but Visenya was unflinching, almost challenging him, sizing him up to see if he’d do it. 

“I do not wish for my reign to be one of war.” he finally spoke up, but it wasn’t a firm statement of a King. It was like a plea, a prayer of sorts, perhaps even to the gods if he believed in them instead of just claiming them in name, the way Visenya and Maegor did. The former Queen scoffed at him like he was an annoying child.

“You are a blind fool if you think you can avoid this. How do you think we conquered Westeros? By asking everyone nicely by raven?” she asked, crossing her arms. The tension between the two grew quickly, as Aenys straightened his back and his mouth thinned. 

An awkward silence followed, before Aenys turned his lilac eyes to Rowan.

“What do you think?” he asked, catching her off-guard. She was not used to giving opinions on matters as important, and quite frankly scary, as this one. If anything, she’d be looking to Visenya and her father for answers, but she understood that the King did not have that luxury.

“Me?” Rowan asked, completely surprised. Visenya seemed curious to what approach she’d advise him to take as well. “I… I do not know if you can reach a compromise with the faith on this subject, not so suddenly. Marrying a cousin, that’s not unheard of, but a sibling? A marriage of this kind would be the first performed in this realm.” she said gently. Aenys looked at her in a way she did not think was possible. His eyes widened and he looked betrayed and hurt, making Rowan almost gasp.

“You agree with him, with the HIgh Septon. You think we are abominations.” he said, his tone not accusatory, but hurt. Rowan was quick to shake her head, to walk closer to him.

“No, no, Aenys, I do not think that of you, of any of you. Although I admit that the practice is very strange and foreign, it does not sway my loyalty to you.” she said, trying to assure him, as he looked to be in huge distress. He studied her face for a moment, his expression not changing, before Visenya sighed and spoke up.

“If she thought us disgusting, she would not voluntarily remain in our presence and service, nephew, let alone offer us her help. She speaks the truth. You cannot negotiate with the High Septon. Either you stand your ground, or you break the betrothal.” she repeated her stance, looking at him expectantly. But Aenys gave no answer. He turned around and left. Rowan assumed it would be to go discuss this with Alyssa, even with Rhaena and Aegon as well.

After that day, Rowan awaited nervously for a decision. Visenya would pat her gently on the shoulder when she saw her pick at her fingertips, a small comfort. When the King’s decision was made, one thing was certain. War. 

In the sept of Remembrance, the sept built on the Hill of Rhaenys in her memory. That’s where the wedding would taka place. For once, the King stood his ground and made a firm decision. Unfortunately, this decision would only mean war. The very people of King’s Landing were turning against him, when just one year ago, those same people cheered for him and his ascension to the throne. 

Rowan had never seen a reaction so huge, so negative and extreme, this against the crown, and so unanimous. Even with Visenya assuring her safety, Rowan still drowned in worry, for her family, her father, her friends, for the people, for Aenys, for everyone and everything.

She wished Maegor was here.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[chenyuvale]

OK. THANK YOU TUMBLR URL @THELUNATICGHOST FOR SPONSORING ME AND MY THOUGHTS.

[im going to use he/him pronouns for furina (and focalors by extension]

furina genshin impact. you know him, the guy who acted a part in a play that wasnt his own play for like 500 years the guy who yes, can be annoying but is honestly just a silly little guy!! thats all he is!! thats all hes ever wanted to be; himself

furina genshin impact is in canon, a she/her, i heavily disagree with this because of his design, and his overal character being made 1) from someone else and 2) "[he] was made to be the perfect human" that focalors created for himself, focalors is also trans but more genderfuckery because his gender is Divinity and also dead. anyways.

focalors design is a mirror image of furina's "archon" outfit the light one, pneuma version i believe, and in focalors top part of the dress, its quite revealing! theres a lot of chest skin showing there and the most important thing about this; flat. literally no tiddy there at all in the slightest.

now because focalors made furina based on himself, they have the exact same body, just duplicated, meaning! furina also has literally no tiddy!! nothing!! zip zilch na da!!! he has a very rectangular torso (adding evidence to my transmasc idea), even if he did have canon tits (which he does not this is proven) he is purposefully covering them up with the french ass ruffles hes got going on up there, /purposefully/ covering.

the most exposed furinas design is, is his legs, he has rather short shorts (akin to hu tao who Also has no titty but there is room to see a curve there because hu tao doesnt have. the chest ruffles) ((this could lead to how hu taos design is also quite tmasc coded but sadly enough im not a hu tao insaner)) so i could Maybe sort of if i squint real hard i can see why people would want to exaggerate the legs a little

But when people ( the horny + uninformed.. usually..) give him the most hourglass shape figure?? or even Big Boobs im like??????? first off did yall play the archon quest and second ????????? of all genshin characters you think furina deserves boobs??? Flawed logic he is not who you think he is, like even ignoring my headcanons In Canon he is very much jus living his best life being a theater director !!!!!!! hes not an actor anymore !!!!!! furina genshin impact is the wrong character to put your horny beams on !!!!

and for the people in the back

Furina Genshin Impact Is The Wrong Character to Put Your Horny Beam On

does any of this make much sense? probably not,, do i care not rlly i jus hate how the fandom treats him so so so so much its why i cant really consume fancontent of him anymore that isnt made by a trusted mutual of mine, we are saving him from fanons grabby dirty hands and putting him in our own grabby dirty hands :3

what makes it worse is neuvifuri. there are people who believe that neuvifuri are either 1) father/daughter (this is the same crowd who think zhongxiao are also father/son) 2) siblings or 3) a cishet married couple with furina as the UwU Wifey and neuvi as the gigachad husband.

These are All Wrong

pushing most of my headcanons aside, literally in canon neuvi is the one constantly down bad for furi, Constantly!!!! he had a moment of realisation in the archon quest, realising he appreciates furina a lot more than he first thought he did (see furina story quest AND neuvi birthday letter)

and also in canon furina is Terrified of losing him, so he distanced himself (see his about neuvillette line)

now headcanon territory kinda ; neuvi watched focalors fucking Die in front of him, whilst givhim the original dragon power back, that shit was still traumatising as all hell , i think neuvi is just as equally afraid of losing furi as furi is of losing him

,, if i keep going i wont stop about how much i adore their specific dynamic but ANYWAYS. back to the point;

Fanon is Wrong

(have an old doodle as thanks for reading,,,)

thank you for reading all this, it sounded more composed in my head i swear i jus uwauwuuawu biting fandom so hard

[tacos-and-doodles]

John Juniper headcanons

(Some of these headcanons are only relevant before and/or after Rising Phoenix)

He is 100% the type of person to sing in the shower. And when he is singing it will most likely be Spice girls(wannabe) or holding out for a hero at FULL volume. One time Phoenix caught him singing it and she remind him almost every second or every day of EVER month

After Rising Phoenix I like to think that he survived but now he has 1 arm and the other is robotic. The best part is since  Phoenix was able to make that happen she has a control pad so she’ll make him do things like when he is drinking anything she’ll make him let go of the cup. And when she’s mad at him she’ll just make him slap himself a few times. He doesn’t really trust his arm anymore.

I feel that in Juniper's room he has a LOT of fancy decor and in his mansion or estate and in every room there is AT LEAST 1 mirror. (He can’t get enough of himself)

Juniper feels content with his height but whenever he sees some guy that is taller by him by even an inch. He feels the NEED to upstage them in any way possible to take the fact that they are taller than him off his mind. He honestly doesn’t know what to think about tall women. (HE’S A SIMP)

Please DO NOT ask him to cook. All he could make was a bowl of cereal and milk. And he REFUSES to make that. He considers it peasant food. If he tries to make some fancy ‘non- peasant’ food, he’ll probably burn the place down.

He loves Phantom of the Opera and will sing it whenever he gets the chance. (He always tries to sing Christine’s opera voice but he ends up sounding like a chicken being murdered)

I feel like from time to time he’ll randomly develop a transatlantic accent and later it will just. Poof, disappear

When he goes to sleep I swear this is exactly his nighttime routine.

 Apply cleansing night time moisturizer

Put on silk pajamas 

Lay in king sized bed that’s big enough for 4 people

Put on sleep mask that says “need my ✨beauty✨ sleep” 

Clap twice to turn off fancy lamp

Go to sleep

By the way when he wakes up he definitely puts this on

(Try and change my mind it’s impossible)

He’s definitely a golfer. That’s it.

Finally he is a virgin (and probably always be)

That is all.

[get-your-fuckin-star-bitch]

[unwinding au] - season 3, part ?????

Aaaaaaaaagh i feel like I’m missing something what is it what am I

OHHHHHHHH

Michael didn’t get out of the institute using the mirrors, he doesn’t like using the mirrors (at all)-

He took the tunnels. He had no idea where he was going, but he took em anyway, cause he figured he had the best chance at finding the right way through.

He actually also took the tape recorder that was there, I was wrong. He didn’t want anyone to find out what he’d done (they sort of did anyway :( ) and also it had just become a “comfort item” at that point.

He sort of feels the same way about the recorders as Martin does, but also feels like they give him a sort of anchor to steady himself with so he can keep himself together.

[CONTINUED BELOW!!!!]

I really wish I could find some good maps of London so that I could plot out his course, but he tries going to his own apartment initially, only to find it surrounded by police/law enforcement.

So he feels very much like he’s got nowhere to go.

For the first time, he wishes he could just loose himself in a crowd and find himself somewhere else.

He’s just… too tall for it. He’s worried he’d just get spotted immediately.

But it turns out that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s as if no one can really see him, or at least can’t pick him out from the rest of the crowd. Which, by the way, is really uncomfortably bump-y and jostle-y, and he hates it just as much as he used to, but it works.

Not just to hide him, but to get him to where he’s going.

Somehow, he finds himself inside of a department store.

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so I decided it’s probably either Peter Jones or Harrods… but……

How tf do UK department stores work

help

Ummmmm heck it’s fine I’ll just wing it and revise later, at least i’ve got a vibe

So, Peter Jones and partners, runs into someone he knew before the institute.

I don’t know her name, but she’s pretty and a fantastic person and I tried to draw her one time but I don’t feel like it came out quite right, however I’m still going to drop it here.

(Uuuuugghhhhhhhh yeah there’s a lot I don’t like about how I drew this, I don’t feel like I got her features right and I wish I could go back and change it but it’s PENCIL and erasing/redrawing is ANNOYING aaaaaa /lh)

(I’m actually not going to insert the drawing. I just feel like it’s probably wrong in a hundred different ways, and I’d like to research some stuff further first before I make a finalized design.)

She and Michael talk a little bit, her manager comes over and does the whole “you’re paid to sell things to customers, not chat with them,” thing and Michael actually glares at him!

Yasmin(a?) (this is why i want to do more research, I don’t feel like that’s right aaaaaa) is completely taken aback by this, because the Michael Shelley she’d grown up with had barely ever glared at someone in this sort of a situation.

Michael was a tiny bit surprised by it, too, but fuck it- he was fed up, tired, on the run, possibly turning into a monster, and this clerk was being completely unreasonable (in his opinion). He was having a bad day and hadn’t seen his friend in years, couldn’t he just leave them alone?

Apparently not. The manager was getting very disgruntled, and curtly acknowledged him with a steely-eyed stare, and told him that if he wanted to make a fuss over the store’s management rules, he should leave the department and go speak with the (police? Upper management? Idk).

And thus a small standoff occurs. I’m honestly impressed that the manager could remain rigid in his stance with this tall guy basically looming over him, but by god he did- and then the usual thing of “I’m going to call the cops.”

And naturally, Michael gets both upset and a bit panicked.

The guy turns away to call someone on his phone, then notices some strange movement out of the corner of his eye and turns around to see Michael, looking… definitely different from how he did before.

He’s trying hard not to look at his friend, cause he feels like if he does, he’ll scare her, but the manager is staring right at him, into his twisting face, and screams after taking a few moments to register what’s going on.

And then Michael leaves.

——————

The police get there far too late to catch him exiting the building, and naturally, daisy is a little more than a bit miffed by this.

He’s just glad he could get away at all. He’s actually unaware that the police are following him.

Thing is, he didn’t actually even hurt anyone, he just scared the manager and ran away. Supposedly, no actual harm done, (the manager’s now marked but Michael doesn’t need to know that 🫠), so the police leave.

He considers checking in to a hotel or something, but… it feels like it’s too… risky.

So he just… sleeps wherever.

It’s awful.

His friend’s probably trying to figure out where he went, just so she can understand what the heck’s going on and why the police are trying to find him, cause last she heard, he was working at the infamous “Magnus Institute”, which, as far as she understands it, is essentially a fucked-up library of weird things. So maybe things had gotten a little too weird for him, or he’d just been some kind of serial-whatever this entire time. They hadn’t even explained the situation to her when they’d questioned her about him. She fully thought she was going to be arrested as an accomplice or something, which would have been awful, but apparently all they cared about was getting him.

And she kind of wanted to know why.

I mean- look. Scaring someone’s manager with a gun or blackmail or something is one thing. But with just a look? That stuff was not normal, she knew it wasn’t, and he was gonna have to spill everything to her.

Once she could find him, at least.

She took a few days off from work to wander around and see if she could look for him in… the shops, maybe, or nearby apartments. But nothing came up. No sandy-blond-haired skinny tall bastards in the directory, or around there anywhere. (Sounded like she was ordering Starbucks or something every time she asked around about him.)

She nearly tripped over him when she was passing through (insert place name here, I really need to get a map or else I’m just going to end up playing mad libs with location names for this, lmao).

She had been trying to find a bar she thought he might be relatively more comfortable at than the others in the area. Bars in general did not seem Michael’s style, but she was running out of options, and hey, he’d obviously changed at least a little bit since she’d seen him.

But the expression on his face when he looked at her, startled, confused — hell, maybe even hopeful — was exactly the same expression he’d worn that day that the two’d met each other the first time.

They’d both been different then, in their own ways. But now, it seemed like one of them had changed… well, a little more than would be possible for the other.

Still him, though. She could be sure about that.

And he needed some help.

“Hey.” She said simply, in greeting. “No complaining, no insisting on not bothering someone, we’re going to get you a bed.”

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 285, Replies Part 2

1) “tell me Horikoshi, what happened to the other kid the one that had a flying quirk tell me you didn’t, for example, turn him into a nomu and then killed him without us realizing, right? tell me because not showing us the other kid here would make it seem like you don’t want us to remember him”- Honestly, given the shit the kids already have to deal with in the current situation, and just how many people Garaki has no doubt transformed into Nomua, I’m not sure if that will ever be clarified to the kids. It’s another traumatic event for them to deal with when they’re already being subjected to so much trauma in the present, and just like All Might’s withholding information for Izuku’s wellbeing – and Mic is no doubt gonna have to do the same for Aizawa concerning the truth of Shirakumo’s death – they simply might not tell the kids if it ever gets found out.

2) “Bakugo, is it just me, or are you just having your whole life flash before your eyes as you approach the two calamities locked in a duel to the death? I was joking about it before you know, you don’t need to actually jump there and die, you know?”- He took that as a personal challenge.

But here, we see both the good and bad that’s come of OFA, how it allowed Izuku to stand up to Bakugo’s bullying, even when he went as far as taunting him to jump off a roof, and make him acknowledge his rival’s strengths….

3) “jesus fucking christ look how battered my kid is”-

…Contrasted against how he’s become from indulging in that strength without limitation, pushing himself into a ragged mess out of his mania to save everybody, beleivng it’s all on him and no-one else can do it. Blessing and curse, both in one.

4) “Yeah Bakugo, you always knew he would turn out like this, didn’t you? There was never a way to keep Midoriya away from this fate, quirkless or not.”- When Izuku gained the power, he gained so much from it.but he never gained enough self-respect to properly control himself when his emotions are pushed to the breaking point. For all the good he’s doing in damaging Tomura and holding him back, he’s taking on irreversible damage with every blow, all without thinking it through. Bakugo’s face shows all the concern that Izuku should have for himself, but doesn’t, in part because of how worthless he’s been made to feel from being born Quirkless.

5) “AND HE GRABBED HIM TARGET SECURED, NOW IT’S TIME TO BURN LIKE THE FUCKING SUN LOOK AWAY FOLKS, THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET… SHINY”- The backup plan was to use float and OFA as propulsion to launch Tomura into the sun, but why go that far when Endevour can just make his own?

6) “IT’S HIM IT’S FUCKING HIM HE’S TAKING OVER SHIGARAKI NOW THAT HE’S ABOUT TO DIE JESUS NO”- The dramatic irony present from the heroes not realising that Tomura’s effectively the one fetter holding back AFO and his decades of experienced handing of his Quirk from running amok with his new and very durable body. They tried their best to beat Tomura. They succeeded.

7) “WELL AT LEAST HE WASN’T TURNED TO DUST, JUST IMPALED WITH LETHAL FORCE.”- That’s how we know who’s in command. Tomura would just dust Endeavour, but AFO will make the execution bloody and painful.

8) “OH GOD OH FUCK THAT’S NOT SHIGARAKI ANYMORE THAT’S DEFINITELY NOT SHIGARAKI ANYMORE HE TOOK OVER”- And as Tomura’s control slips away, so too does his face, leaving only the black human-shaped being that is AFO in command, his exterior a mirror of his twisted soul within, faceless and malevolent as always, no matter the age of his current target.

(MHA ch 261) 9) “What did he asked you? To make sure they were dead? Well, its not like you werent planning to give them the oldouble tap anyway, right? Nothing is dead enough that you cant kill it again.”- This statement only becomes more ironically appropriate as Tomura’s durability keeps holding him together despite everything. The man’s practically a cooked corpse here and he’s coming back from even that, and with his body staring to fall to bits like a literal Zombie’s.

10) “BAKUGO YOU BETTER NOT DO SOMETHING STUPID CONSIDERING WE’RE DEALING WITH AFO NOW DON’T JUMP IN AND GET YOUR QUIRK STOLEN, BECAUSE YOU FUCKING KNOW THIS CAN HAPPEN”- Hitting AFO in Tomura’s durable shell does nothing, but hitting the target out of the way….

11) “IS THAT ANOTHER FLASH OF YOUR LIFE BEFORE YOUR EYES BAKUGO I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF YOU GET YOURSELF KILLED I’M GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM”- Better warm those pipes up, it’s time to hit the high notes.

(MHA ch 276) 12) “Oh wow this does not bode well for the new big three, considering how were seeing their family members… Its like one of them is gonna die, but considering how Shoto is away from the killzone, we have a 50/50 chance of it being either Midoriya or Bakugo. I vote Bakugo, because of course I would.”- Your vote was counted, the sacrifice accepted…

(MHA ch 276) 13) “Bye bye kids, have fun as far away as fuckily possible, we don`t want any of you two dying today. Wait until Shoto get here so we have a 1/3 chance instead.”- Well, Shoto arrived, and now Bakugou’s been shishkabobbed.

14) “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I CAN’T BELIEVE BAKUGO IS FUCKING DEAD AS IS ENDEAVOR AND SHIGARAKI BECAUSE AFO IS BACK THROUGH HIM CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS ALSO, HA HA FOR THE TITLE. YEAH BAKUGO IS RISING, RISING TOWARDS THE FUCKING PEARLY GATES WHAT IN THE FUCK”-

“Rising”

The arc words used alongside “origin” to mark the point wherever somebody performs a truly heroic and selfless action that elevates the from being somebody who merely took the career of a hero to actually being one in the flesh.

And just in case the Bakuagnst in this chapter wasn’t enough, here’s the volume cover.

He’s been thinking about the wrongdoing he did to Izuku for a long time, wondering how different they could have been if he’d only had to courage to reach out to Izuku as well…. NOTE: Oh, before I forget, there was actually somebody on reddit named Doodlelotl who made a few MHA chapter summeries when these were coming out the first time. They only go up to like, 337 or so, but they're pretty enjoyable. Sadly i forgot to upload them when they first became relevant, but I can patch them in here.

@thelreads

[code01746]

META   +   smoking

　　　oh, man. i actually do have a lot of thoughts about this.

for starters, him picking up smoking was not so much a conscious decision, but because one of his very few friends would smoke. either smoker, hina, or bellemere; but i like to go with bellemere since they not only have a ship together, but it happens to be the only non-problematic ship of rosinante's that is at least semi-popular (his other two popular ships being, uh... incest, & a relationship with a boy he's known since they boy was 10 & he was 23). so i'll take any opportunity to flesh out a healthier one.

i mentioned a bit yesterday that, prior to meeting law, rosinante was very much an isolated, directionless person with no real goals in life. not necessarily unhappy, but he just didn't see himself as having enough of a future to care about 'finding himself', so he let the people in his life do it for him.

he was adopted by a marine? guess he'll join the marines now.

his brother is a criminal? guess he'll volunteer to catch him now.

doflamingo assumes him to be mute? guess he'll pretend to be mute now.

he very much 'mirrored' people in the sense that he would follow along with what they did, valued what they valued, and even dressed how they dressed. he grew up isolated just by virtue of having to hide his true surname/a big part of who he is as a person just so he wasn't murdered in his sleep, so he just latched onto things people did. he wanted to be included. he wanted to make them happy. he wanted connection.

honestly, rosinante infiltrating doflamingo's crew was ironically the best thing that could have happened to him because, for the first time in his life, it forced him to create a persona for himself and be conscious of the choices he was making. also, just being in the presence of his brother again seemed to 'wake' him up and realize he couldn't just be passive anymore. stopping his brother, honestly, became his first real 'goal' in life that he choose for himself, the same way helping law survive became his first real 'purpose'.

(he also may or may not have kept up the smoking habit because someone told him it made him look cool and he would do anything to distract from the fact he's just a clumsy, lame loser inside but that's more of a side note).

-

in verses where he lives, he no longer smokesーeither because of encouragement from law (he'll do anything to make that little shit happy, after all) or because of a collapsed lung during his recovery made him quit the habit cold turkey.

[wheatnoodle]

part 2 to⬆️

— wednesday —

there have been more than enough shit people in eddie’s life for him to care when his so-called “friends” don’t turn out to be who he thinks they are.

and honestly, this time, it’s on him. he’s a firm believer in second chances but even he should’ve known that steve harrington would always be steve harrington. he needs to start believing people when they show him who they really are, not try and see, try and find, try and create the good in them.

he’s hurt, he’s embarrassed, but he’s not surprised. so he turns up his music and he strums harder and headbangs faster and drowns out the sound of his brain until his friday show. he channels his feelings, his anger and betrayal, into making it the best damn show indiana has ever seen.

he wasn’t going to let some jock like steve harrington stop him from doing what he loves. steve and his stupid hair, and his stupid moles, and his stupid big brown eyes, and his stupid pouty lips, and his stupid muscles, and his-

great, now he’s blushing. because he was also dumb and he let himself get a stupid fucking crush on a stupid fucking jock who used to be bitch and seemingly still is.

besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen steve go out of his way to support his friends. he’s at every single one of lucas’s basketball games and will’s art shows and drives robin to her marching band practice. sure, he doesn’t stick around for that last one, but he still drives her. and yet every time eddie asks him to come to his practices, or come to his concerts, or anything related to his band, steve conveniently has to work or has some excuse ready on the tip of his tongue. eddie doesn’t even care if steve likes his music, he just wants him to show up. to pretend he cares even a little bit about eddie’s music.

and the look he gave him! like he couldn’t believe what eddie was saying to him. that was just the icing on the cake. he was done. so he brushed off dustin’s pestering to ask steve to come to the movies with them, he avoided his uncle wayne’s concerned looks, and he was ready to move on with his life.

— friday —

over the years, the party had accepted that being a passenger in steve’s car wasn’t like how it used to be. when they were just in middle school, they’d laugh and bicker and they’d rope steve into their conversations or he’d look at them through the rear view mirror whenever they said something that they probably shouldn’t have.

now, post-freshmen-year, they still laugh and fight in the backseat, but steve doesn’t talk. doesn’t even look at them. robin says he’s just focusing on his driving or blames herself for turning the music up so loud. not at all because he can’t hear them anymore, no no.

so he’s in his driver’s seat, wearing his lovely family video vest, and hauling dustin and robin to the hideout for corroded coffin’s show before he heads to work. robin has her billy idol tape playing and she’s turned around in the front seat, raving with dustin about the latest nerd movie. sometimes steve is glad he can’t hear.

he pulls up outside of the bar, parks near the van where eddie, the band, and his kids are all stood around dragging equipment out of the back. mike and lucas are shoving each other around with smiles on their faces and they all seem to be wearing some kind of handmade corroded coffin tshirts.

they turn at the sound of the gravel crunching under tires. eddie’s jaw sets at the sight of the familiar beemer and he’s rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. steve gets out the car, doesn’t look up as he circles around, opens robin’s door, and grabs dustin’s bag from the backseat.

eddie is making his way over, long, drawn out steps. he’s clapping too, slowly and loud, and the van gang are staring at him, confused and quiet. steve happens to look up just as eddie gets a few feet away and begins to shout for all to hear.

“here ye, here ye! make way, make way!” eddie throws his arms out to the side, a grand gesture as he sweeps a hand across the rest of the group. “he has arrived to grace us with his presence! all hail king steve! would you like us to bow for you, my liege?”

he doesn’t get the reaction he had hoped.

there’s no anger in steve’s eyes. no fire. no promise of a fight. no clenched fists ready to make contact with eddie’s cheekbone the way high school steve would.

instead, he’s met with silence.

and steve’s quickened breathing.

and the glossing of tears building in his tear ducts that he’s trying to blink back.

steve’s eyes flick to the party behind him. they’re all looking at him. nobody is saying anything. he hands dustin’s bag back to its rightful owner. doesn’t say anything as he stumbles to his car door. his hands are shaking trying to get the key in the door. it fits in the hole, it’s made for this door, why don’t not it go in, why cant this just work for him, why him, why now-

he drops the key, spitting a hushed “sh-shit” that his voice breaks in the middle of. robin walks over, picks up the key ring and unlocks his door. her eyes are huge as she looks at him. filled with shock, with worry, with anger. he can only manage a quick glance before he’s in the car and speeding away.

eddie is still standing where he was, rooted to the spot. he stares straight ahead, arms dropping to his sides.

“eddie…what the fuck is your problem.”

[az-cain]

Rhett Abbott NSFW Alphabet

i’m going to hell lmao

A: Aftercare

Rhett is the aftercare KING, he always has a bottle of water for you to drink and a soft rag to clean you up with, kissing over any marks he left, and murmuring sweet things as he cuddles you to sleep!! He was kinda touch-deprived as a kid, living in a quite conservative family and only seeing sex as a release rather than an opportunity for vulnerability, so now that he has you and the opportunity to be loved, he will cuddle you any chance he gets, especially after sex.

B: Body part

His favorite part of you is your ass. He loves to watch it jiggle (even if it doesn’t jiggle much) and will not hesitate to grab it when it’s 100% unwarranted. A very close runner-up is your thighs, which he loves to see get a little bigger when you sit, and will also grab for no reason.

His favorite body part on himself is his hands! He loves knowing that they’re capable of so much, that they let him lift things that many couldn’t, that he can make you feel so good with them. His other favorite is his own thighs: they’re wildly sensitive, something he didn’t know until you scratched down them with your nails when you were blowing him and he came faster than when he was a teenager.

C: Cum

Marking you up is his favorite part of oral, honestly. As much as he loves seeing you swallow him down, he’s a sucker for a pearl necklace, and it makes his refractory period nonexistent. He’s also not afraid to go down on you, and if you squirt, he is absolutely ecstatic and will try to get you to do it as often as possible.

D: Dirty Secret

He wants to get pegged 👍🏼. But that’s not really a secret anymore, now is it? Because while the two of you were watching porn together (typical couple behavior), a pegging video popped up in the recommended videos, you clicked it, and he absolutely whimpered. Watching the male actor ride the female’s strap-on had him burying his head in your shoulder and blood rushing to his cheeks with shame. Needless to say, the porn website was quickly abandoned in favor of a search to order a strap.

E: Experience

He was known as the town manwhore, obviously he’s pretty experienced. He won’t hesitate to try anything you want to try, because chances are it’s not his first go-around with it.

F: Favorite position

Doggystyle, because he gets a gorgeous view or your ass and thighs rippling every time he thrusts into you. I mean come on, what else would it be. It’s even better if there’s a mirror involved, because then he can see your face.

G: Goofy

It depends on your definition of goofy, but he doesn’t really try either way. He’ll make you laugh a little, but it’s just loving. The two of you function like a married couple; you’re best friends, and that means every aspect of your relationship has that fun part of him that makes you love him so much.

H: Hair

He stays well-washed, but shaving is too time-consuming and gets itchy, so he just leaves his body hair natural. He likes the hair on his head long enough that it drapes, but he can pull or gel it back if need be.

I: Intimacy

He’s a hopeless romantic through and through. Everything you do, he’s admiring you. He’s the kind of man to kiss your wedding ring and hold your hand as he fucks you ruthlessly into your mattress. He knows everything you like, and you come first for him, be that in your day-to-day life or in the bedroom.

J: Jerk off

He is not at all opposed to getting himself off, but it’s never as good as you. If he’s doing it, it’s fast. Just enough to hold him off until he sees you again after this trip, panting through his nose and clamping his lips shut so no one in the motel room next to him can hear. Sometimes, he’ll struggle with it and turn up at your door looking like a kicked puppy, horny as hell and completely unable to help himself.

K: Kink

He loves tying you up and being tied up himself An absolute sucker for complete loss of control, he always keeps some rope and Aquaphor (for aftercare) in his closet. He’s a master at tying knots, and loves to teach you, even in a non-sexual way. It’s just lovely to hear your little victory shout when you finally get it.

Public sex is another big one, but more on that below.

L: Location

He loves to rail you in or over his truck, usually after you tease him at the bar. Also, he loves doing it at home outside. The two of you will be stargazing on one of your pastures and he’ll just start kissing up your neck, begging you to be as loud as you want because no one but the cows can hear.

M: Motivation

Plain-old domesticity. He grew up watching his parents make pancakes and kiss each other on the cheek, but he never got that. He was always taking the blame for his brother’s mistakes, being sent out to tend the cattle on holidays because he was the last with a lover, and being told he wasn’t strong enough. You, letting him cry on your shoulder, petting his hair as you cuddle, wrapping your arms around his waist while he’s elbow-deep in dishes, make him so grateful that all he wants to do is make you feel good like you do for him.

N: No

He doesn’t want to do non-con. He is just not a fan of having to try and read whether he’s taking it too far, whether you’re scared to say your safeword, whether you’re hurting and can’t get it out, etc. He wants sex and your bedroom to be a safe place where neither of you have to worry about that.

O: Oral

I think that because Rhett was a manwhore for a while, he’s given head, but he wasn’t ever particularly good at it. When you’re town-famous for your dick and most of the people you screw are only there because of how good you ride bulls, most people aren’t too interested in your mouth. That being said, after you teach him what makes you feel good? He’s the master of oral sex— getting you over the edge within 5-10 minutes without fail.

P: Pace

It definitely depends on his mood, but usually if he’s setting it, he likes a good fast pace. That doesn’t mean that he won’t drag it out by edging you, but he likes the ache that the fast thrusts create in his thighs and hips. If you’re setting the pace, he absolutely loves a slow, deep, driving pace. Riding him until he’s whimpering and crying and begging you to come, or making him ride you slowly as you rock into that spot, his head buried in your neck and his tears running down your shoulder.

Q: Quickie

ALL THE TIME!! Before he leaves for a ride?? Quickie. When your alarm goes off to get ready for work? Quickie. If you’re teasing him with a hand on his thigh while he’s celebrating a win with some friends? Quickie.

R: Risk

As mentioned earlier, he’s down to try nearly anything except non-con. He loves to see you figure things out, and he always wants to give you the best experience possible.

S: Stamina

On the top, he pushes himself pretty hard, so he can last for hours, but then takes a while to get it back up. On the bottom, you can tease him for hours and he’ll cum as soon as you touch him. When he gets off fast, though, he can get it back up within minutes.

T: Toys

Other than the aforementioned strap-on (that came with two dildos) and a vibrating plug you used on him when you were first playing around, he doesn’t have many toys for himself. For you, however, he has many a vibrator that he’s more than willing to use to enhance your fun.

U: Unfair

If we count pictures/videos as teasing, he is so unfair. If you leave early for work and he wakes up hard, he’s sending you a mirror pic of his cock standing hard against his abs, one veiny hand wrapped around it while the other holds his phone. He’ll only tease if you’ve teased, but it goes back tenfold. If you edged him all day yesterday, today you won’t even be touched except for in the morning when he gets you right up to the edge and ruins it.

W: Wild Card

He really, really likes wearing your clothes. And makeup, too. It all feels dirty, having been told for his entire life that a man wearing women’s clothes was no man at all, but the first time he sees the pretty blouse and necklace on, he’s done for. The clothes are a bit tight on him, but he can’t get over the way your dresses look on his thighs, showing each and every muscle. You’ve even let him put on some lingerie once, the sheer panties doing wonderful, horrible things to both of you. For makeup, you will sit on his lap and do his makeup for hours, patiently awaiting his dark red kisses all over you as soon as you’re done.

X: X-Ray

This man… is so thick. He really brings the phrase “dick like a can of coke” to life. Probably about 6 inches when he’s hard, and the tip gets really red and absolutely leaks when you tease him. He’s uncut, because in my mind he was a home birth, his family having lived so far from a hospital.

Y: Yearning

He’s an absolute dog. He’s always bending you over something or feeling you up.

Z: Zzz…

He’ll go to sleep right after he can tell you’re asleep. He always wants you to go to bed first, so he knows you’re completely sated.