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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month ago

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You Should Have Listened

Soft Mommy!Agatha Harkness x Mean Daddy!Rio Vidal x bratty!fem!reader

Word count: 2.5K words

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation, Power Play, Orgasm Denial/Control, Degradation, Consensual Non-Consent (CNC), Choking (Light Breath Play), Rough Handling, Punishment Kink, Brat Taming

Authors notes: My first time writing Rio and she'll be added to my list of characters I'll write for~

The tension in the air was thick, simmering with the consequences of your behavior throughout the day. You'd been testing their patience from the moment you woke up—snarky remarks, sly smirks, brushing off their warnings with a flippant attitude.

Agatha’s eyes, usually calculating and sharp, were now darker, and her lips curled into a smile that promised retribution. Rio, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling at all. The quiet intensity in her gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Is this how you want to end your day?” Rio’s voice was low, dangerously calm, her brown eyes narrowing on you from across the room. She stood with her arms crossed, muscles tense beneath her tailored suit, exuding a dominant energy that made your heart race. Her presence commanded authority, and you could tell she was done playing your games.

Agatha, perched elegantly on the arm of a chair, tilted her head, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. “You’ve been quite the little brat today, haven’t you?” she purred, her voice laced with dark amusement. “I think it’s time you learned some respect.” Her smile widened as she looked at Rio. “Don’t you agree, darling?”

Rio’s jaw clenched as she stepped closer, towering over you. “I’ve had enough,” she growled, her voice dripping with authority. “You’ve been begging for this all day, and now you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.”

Before you could respond, Rio’s hand was around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you who was in charge. “On your knees,” she ordered, her eyes daring you to disobey.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, testing the limits just once more. But that was all it took for Rio to tighten her grip slightly, her eyes blazing with warning. “Now.”

Your knees hit the floor, heart pounding in your chest. Agatha’s soft laughter echoed through the room as she watched the scene unfold, clearly enjoying every moment. “Good girl,” she cooed, her voice condescending as she stood up, walking over to stand beside Rio.

“You’ve been playing games, little one,” Agatha said, her fingers trailing along your jaw as she circled around you. “But now? Now we get to play our game.”

Rio’s hand moved from your throat, grabbing your chin to force you to look up at her. “And trust me,” she said, voice rough with restrained anger, “you’re not going to enjoy it nearly as much as we will.”

This was the consequence of pushing them too far. And deep down, as much as you feared what was to come, you knew part of you had been craving this all along.

With Rio the punishments were long and harsh. So the moment the words, "I think since she wants it so badly maybe we should overstimulate her?" Came out of her mouth to Agatha you were squirming.

The moment Rio's words hung in the air, your stomach twisted with anticipation. Overstimulation. You knew exactly what that meant, and your body reacted immediately, squirming under their combined gaze. A nervous whimper slipped from your lips as Rio’s grip on your chin tightened, her eyes dark with intent.

Agatha’s laugh was soft and cruel, sending shivers down your spine. She walked around you slowly, her heels clicking against the floor, creating an echo that only intensified the tension. "Oh, I like that idea," Agatha purred, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Since she’s been such a brat, it’s only fair we give her exactly what she’s been asking for… more than she can handle.”

You could already feel the heat building within you, the fear and desire twisting together in a way that made it hard to breathe. Rio’s expression was unreadable, her face set in a hard line as she watched you struggle. There was no softness in her now—just the unyielding force of her authority. She had warned you, given you chances to behave, and now it was time to pay the price.

"Look at her," Agatha said, amusement dancing in her voice as she came to stand behind you, her fingers trailing down your back teasingly. "Already squirming and we haven’t even touched her properly yet.”

Rio’s lips curled into a small, dangerous smile as she knelt in front of you, her face inches from yours. “You wanted to push us all day. And now that you’ve got our attention, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.”

Without warning, Agatha’s hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back roughly, exposing your neck. “No more of your little games,” she whispered into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s our turn.”

Rio’s eyes flicked up to Agatha’s, a silent exchange passing between them before she turned her full attention back to you. “We’re going to take you apart, piece by piece,” Rio said, her voice low and authoritative. “And you’re going to take it, every last bit of it. No whining, no begging for it to stop.”

Agatha’s grip on your hair tightened as she forced you to look at Rio. “She’ll beg,” Agatha said with a smirk. “But we won’t be listening, will we?”

Your heart raced, the reality of your punishment sinking in. Rio’s hands were already trailing down your body, her touch firm but calculated. The sensation sent electric pulses through you, and you tried to hold still, knowing how much worse it would be if you squirmed too much. But the moment Rio’s hand slipped between your thighs, teasingly light at first, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“She’s already soaked,” Rio said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Guess she really does want this.”

“Of course she does,” Agatha cooed, her tone mocking as she let go of your hair and moved to kneel behind you. She pressed her body against yours, her breath ghosting over your neck as her hands roamed your sides. “She can pretend all she wants, but deep down, this is exactly what she craves. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Rio’s touch, but Agatha didn’t seem to need a reply. Her teeth grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” she whispered. “We’ll make sure you get exactly what you deserve… over and over again.”

And with that, Rio’s fingers pressed harder, slipping inside you, slow at first but deep. You moaned, your body tensing under the sudden intrusion, but it was only the beginning. Rio’s dark eyes locked onto yours, her gaze never wavering as she set a pace that was relentless, her fingers moving in a rhythm designed to push you closer to the edge.

Agatha’s hand snaked around your waist, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin while her lips found the sensitive spot on your neck. “No holding back now,” she murmured, her voice a dangerous promise. “You’re going to give us everything.”

The pleasure built quickly, too quickly, and you found yourself struggling to breathe, your body teetering on the brink. But just as you were about to fall over that edge, Rio stopped, pulling her hand away with a smirk as you gasped in frustration.

"Not yet," she said darkly. "We’re just getting started.”

A frustrated whine slipped from your throat, your body shaking with the denial of release. Agatha chuckled darkly behind you, her breath hot against the back of your neck as her hand wandered lower, fingers ghosting just over the spot where you needed her most.

"You’re going to learn patience," Agatha whispered, her voice a mixture of menace and playfulness. "You’ve been so eager, so desperate for attention all day. Now we’ll give it to you—but not in the way you want."

Rio leaned back slightly, still kneeling in front of you, her dark eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as she watched you squirm. “I told you,” she said, her voice steady and firm, “you’re not getting out of this until we decide you’ve had enough.” Her fingers teased your inner thighs, dangerously close but never giving you the satisfaction of more.

You tried to hold still, knowing it would only drag this out, but the combination of Agatha’s lips on your neck and Rio’s agonizingly slow touches had you trembling with need. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, and despite yourself, you shifted, trying to get more, but Rio’s hand pressed firmly on your thigh, keeping you still.

“Look at her,” Agatha purred, her lips curving into a smirk as she watched you struggle. “So needy, so desperate. It’s almost pitiful.” Her fingers slipped lower, just barely brushing over your clit, the brief contact sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily, but Agatha pulled her hand away just as quickly, leaving you gasping in frustration. “Patience, little one,” she cooed mockingly, her voice dripping with condescension. “We’re nowhere near done with you yet.”

Rio’s fingers returned, slipping inside you again, but this time, her pace was torturously slow, dragging out every movement. She watched every twitch of your body, every gasp that escaped your lips, and she took her time, deliberately keeping you on the edge without ever letting you tip over.

“You’re going to beg by the time we’re done,” Rio said softly, her tone laced with a dangerous promise. “Beg for release, beg for mercy. But it won’t come until we’ve wrung every last ounce of control from you.”

Agatha’s laughter was low and amused as her hand came to rest on your throat, her grip just tight enough to remind you of your place. “And when you do beg,” she whispered into your ear, “we’ll make sure you remember exactly who you belong to.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the weight of their control pressed down on you. They weren’t going to let you off easy—not after the way you’d pushed them all day. Agatha’s fingers returned, this time stroking your clit with feather-light touches that made you arch against her, desperate for more.

“Such a needy little thing,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. “But you’ll take what we give you. Nothing more.”

Rio’s pace quickened suddenly, fingers pumping in and out of you with precision, and the combined sensation of her and Agatha’s teasing touches had you spiraling toward release again. Your body tensed, breath catching in your throat as the pleasure built, unbearable and all-consuming.

But just as you were about to fall apart, Rio stopped again, pulling her hand away, leaving you gasping, trembling, and completely undone.

“Not yet,” she growled, eyes dark with amusement as you let out a strangled cry of frustration. “You don’t get to finish until we say so.”

Agatha’s grip tightened on your throat as she chuckled softly. “Oh, you poor thing. Don’t worry, you’ll get there eventually… but only after you’ve earned it.”

The frustration overwhelmed you, your body aching with the need for release, but you knew better than to beg. They’d been so clear—any sign of weakness would only fuel their cruelty further. Still, your legs trembled, your breath hitched, and despite your best efforts, a desperate whimper escaped your lips.

Agatha’s lips curved into a wicked smile at the sound. “Hear that, Rio? She’s already starting to break.”

Rio’s hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “Oh, she’ll break,” Rio said, voice low and deadly, “but not until we’ve had our fun.”

Her hand trailed back down between your legs, fingers slipping inside you once more with a roughness that made you gasp. This time, there was no teasing, no slow build. Rio’s pace was brutal, fingers thrusting deep inside you with a rhythm designed to push you toward the edge with terrifying speed.

Agatha’s fingers danced over your clit, circling, pressing, never giving you a moment of reprieve. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every muscle straining against the overwhelming sensations they were forcing on you.

You were teetering on the brink, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt, your mind spiraling as you struggled to hold yourself together. But there was no escape—not with Agatha’s hand tight around your throat, not with Rio’s relentless pace, not with both of them so focused on breaking you completely.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Agatha whispered, her voice like silk against your ear. “So close to giving in. To falling apart for us.”

Your body betrayed you, hips bucking against Rio’s hand as the pressure built and built, pushing you to the very edge of sanity. Your breaths were shallow, gasping, as the pleasure became too much, your mind hazy from the overwhelming sensations.

Rio’s eyes met yours, her gaze hard and unforgiving. “Come,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Come for us now.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order. And the moment the words left her mouth, your body responded, finally letting go. You cried out, back arching, every muscle tensing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, so intense it left you trembling and breathless. The orgasm ripped through you, relentless and overwhelming, pushing you to the point where you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—couldn’t do anything but feel.

But they didn’t stop.

Agatha’s fingers kept working your clit, drawing out every ounce of pleasure as Rio’s thrusts didn’t slow, didn’t falter. You were still riding the high of your release when it became too much, the overstimulation hitting you like a shock to your system. You squirmed, tried to pull away, but there was no escaping their control.

“Ah, ah,” Agatha teased, her grip on your throat tightening slightly as she kept you in place. “We’re not finished with you yet.”

The sensations became unbearable, your body writhing with the intensity of it all. You whimpered, legs shaking as another orgasm built, faster this time, the pleasure merging with the pain of overstimulation until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Look at her,” Rio growled, her pace merciless as she pushed you through the second wave of pleasure. “Falling apart so beautifully.”

You were too far gone to respond, your body shuddering as another climax ripped through you, your mind a haze of white-hot pleasure and overwhelming exhaustion. Agatha’s grip finally loosened as she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, her voice a purr in your ear.

“There’s our good girl,” she cooed softly, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “Now you’ve learned your lesson.”

Rio’s fingers finally slowed, drawing out the last of your pleasure before she pulled away, leaving you breathless and trembling on the floor. She wiped her hand on a nearby cloth, her expression cool and collected as she stood up, towering over you once more.

“You’ll behave tomorrow,” Rio said, her voice dark and certain, “or this will seem like mercy compared to what we’ll do next time.”

Agatha smiled sweetly as she knelt beside you, her hand brushing a lock of hair from your damp forehead. “But don’t worry, darling. If you do behave,” she murmured, “we might even be nice to you.”

You lay there, exhausted and utterly spent, as they both stood over you, their presence still commanding, still powerful.

You’d pushed them too far, and they had broken you, exactly as promised.

#ley writes #ley writes one shots #leys kinktober writing #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x fem!reader #subby!reader #bratty!fem!reader

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rusalkaandtheshepherdgirl · 2 years ago

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Yeah, that's happened to me. At one point a PC at my table got married– which meant that he was the total focus of like five sessions overall? Engagement and parties and planning and actual wedding. I think it just happens with plot progression sometimes and it's chill, but as a DM (and it's also kind of the 'star character's responsibility to a lesser extent) I definitely make sure that the other players have lots of chances to be included and to check in with them to make sure they're not having a bad time bc of it

dnd players, how do you feel about having sort of ‘star character’ pc’s in campaigns? there’ve been several instances where my dnd group will have one pc who’s more plot relevant and important and where that one player knows more than the others at the table, is this something other dnd groups do and how do you feel about it as a concept?

#rio remarks #dnd #tell me if i misinterpreted <3

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rusalkaandtheshepherdgirl · 2 years ago

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Do you want your queer-ass folklore retellings, and just realized that the mechs died 3 years ago? Have you already adopted Tim's gender and need a new source for gender envy? Do you wish Ivy Alexandria played more ominous horn? Call 1-800-4GET-MENAUTS (forget-me-nots like the flower, but the last syllable is spelled like astronauts). That's 1-800-4GET-MENAUTS. Side effects may include: no brain only Rusalka and the Shepherd Girl, wanting to teleport to Cali, and staying up too late to listen to the radio

#the coven discord forced me to post this so we could get more people in the mechs to fmns pipeline #<3 love y'all on the discord btw #the mechanisms #the forgetmenauts #rio remarks

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theartofangirling · 1 year ago

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part 3 of the 2023 version of this post: adult books!

part 1: middle grade books | part 2: young adult books

this is a very incomplete list, as these are only books I've read and enjoyed. not all books are going to be for all readers, so I'd recommend looking up synopses and content warnings. feel free to message me with any questions about specific representation!

list of books under the cut ⬇️

yerba buena by nina lacour

if we were villains by m.l. rio

everyone in this room will someday be dead by emily r. austin

i want to be a wall by honami shirono

portrait of a thief by grace d. li

the thirty names of night by zeyn joukhadar

on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

love & other disasters by anita kelly

take a hint, dani brown by talia hibbert

boyfriend material by alexis hall

almost like being in love by steve kluger

the charm offensive by alison cochrun

something wild & wonderful by anita kelly

red, white & royal blue by casey mcquiston

something to talk about by meryl wilsner

honey girl by morgan rogers

one last stop by casey mcquiston

once ghosted, twice shy by alyssa cole

kiss her once for me by alison cochrun

a spindle splintered by alix e. harrow

finna by nino cipri

every heart a dooryway by seanan mcguire

the starless sea by erin morgenstern

under the whispering door by tj klune

space opera by catherynne m. valente

light from uncommon stars by ryka aoki

dead collections by isaac fellman

the city we became by n.k. jemisin

light carries on by ray nadine

an absolutely remarkable thing by hank green

feed them silence by lee mandelo

summer sons by lee mandelo

upright women wanted by sarah gailey

lavender house by lev a.c. rosen

fried green tomatoes at the whistle stop cafe by fannie flagg

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid

a master of djinn by p. djeli clark

witchmark by c.l. polk

a marvellous light by freya marske

a restless truth by freya marske

when women were dragons by kelly barnhill

plain bad heroines by emily m. danforth

a lady for a duke by alexis hall

infamous by lex croucher

passing strange by ellen klages

even though i knew the end by c.l. polk

the chosen and the beautiful by nghi vo

whiskey when we're dry by john larison

wake of vultures by lila bowen

silver in the wood by emily tesh

the once and future witches by alix e. harrow

the kingdoms by natasha pulley

a tip for the hangman by allison epstein

she who became the sun by shelley parker-chan

the song of achilles by madeline miller

spear by nicola griffith

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir

some desperate glory by emily tesh

all systems red by martha wells

a psalm for the wild built by becky chambers

the mimicking of known successes by malka older

winter's orbit by everina maxwell

fireheart tiger by aliette de bodard

empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo

legends and lattes by travis baldree

the house in the cerulean sea by tj klune

other ever afters by melanie gillman

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

a day of fallen night by samantha shannon

a strange and stubborn endurance by foz meadows

the unbroken by c.l. clark

real queer america by samantha allen

fun home by alison bechdel

in the dream house by carmen maria machado

better living through birding by christian cooper

why fish don't exist by lulu miller

#lgbtq+ books #queer books #book recommendations #gay books #book flow chart #part 3 of 3!#AND THAT'S IT oh my god this took me days #mp

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lotties-ashwagandha · 26 days ago

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THE NECESSITY OF BROOMSTICKS

rio vidal x reader, 938 words

you compromise on halloween decorations with your witch girlfriend. silly stupid halloween fluff w no depth just witches because WHERE are the fluff fics for agatha all along.

Rio looks at the sign with distaste. “What the fuck is witches’ brew?”

You look at the sign you’re hanging in the kitchen, Fresh Witches’ Brew, and smile. It’s decorative, you bought it while you were out today, one of the many Halloween decorations you found to put around the house. “It’s… you know. Potions. Spells. Cauldrons.”

She tilts her head. “No one uses cauldrons anymore.”

You roll your eyes, stepping back from the sign. It matches well with your home, it adds a playful touch you suspect you need in sharing a home with Death. Rio is obviously displeased, though, standing with her arms crossed as she glares up at your decor. She’s always hated the way witches are portrayed in the media this time of year — pointy hats and bubbling cauldrons and, as you love to point out, riding on brooms.

‘I rode on a broom once,’ she reminded you furiously the other day when you had brought home a new throw pillow with a stereotypical green witch with her pointy hat riding on a broom. ‘It was necessity.’

“I bought something else,” you tell her and reach for your bag of decor. She puts on an uninterested expression, but cranes her neck to look over into your bag. This time, you pull out new coffee mugs. Hocus Pocus, they read, in giant orange lettering. You hand Rio one of the mugs.

“Oh,” she looks down at the mug and then up at you — it’s on the tip of her tongue, a remark about how witches aren’t like Hocus Pocus movie witches, but instead she places it on the kitchen counter and with an obligatory smile she thanks you. She gravitates close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching intently as you sort through the rest of your decor.

“I think I’ll go out today and get some decorations, too,” Rio announces and presses a quick kiss to your cheek — you expect to see a black lipstick stain when you next glance in the mirror. She stands up a little straighter, watching you with unwavering resolve. It sounds unnatural and dry when she says, “You’ve put me in the Halloween spirit.”

You nod, though you’re a bit hesitant. She hardly celebrates Halloween like you do — she’s more ancient than your commercialized celebrations, she views them as silly and meaningless compared to those of past centuries. It’s a night that was once viewed with much more reverence, a night that was respected with the severity it demands. Nonetheless, you’re curious as to what she will come up with to use for decorations — it’s hard to envision her trekking through the store for a scarecrow fit for the front porch.

•••

As you are putting up the last of your decorations, Rio comes in through the front door. She hauls something behind her, dragging it in through the door and propping it up on the couch: a life-sized plastic skeleton. Her gaze flits between you and it as she interprets your reaction, and you see the sense of achievement she holds.

“He was on sale,” Rio says, “so I got him some friends. They’re out on the patio sitting around that big cauldron you bought. I covered them in fake blood and drove one of my knives through one of their rib cages.”

Though inanimate, the look the skeleton on your couch wears on its bony face reflects Rio’s excitement. It’s charming, and you can only imagine the way the others she bought look sitting around your witches’ cauldron out on the patio. The vision has a smile pulling at you, and Rio’s pride in her purchases only seems to grow.

“I love him,” you nod to the skeleton on the couch. “Are you going to put him with the others?”

“No,” she digs around in a bag she brought in and pulls out a horror clown mask. “He gets to be a dead clown. You get your witch hats, I get my dead things.”

It’s a compromise you are willing to settle on for her. You know your days of traveling through the house at night for a glass of water have been ripped away until the skeleton is stored for next Halloween, but it’s a fair exchange if it means Rio will be more content in the face of your stereotyped witch decorations.

Rio slips the clown mask onto the skeleton and steps back to examine her work. She pulls out a dagger she keeps on her — you’ve told her that it is unnecessary to carry around knives constantly, but she never listens — and hands it to you. She nods to the skeleton. “Do the honors?”

“What, incriminate myself with clown murder?”

Rio nods enthusiastically. You approach the skeleton, and in a swift motion you drive the dagger into his chest.

“Beautiful,” Rio takes your hand when you come back to stand at her side. She pulls you close, and she leans in to kiss you before she stops and pulls away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, but Rio doesn’t respond, just disappears into the kitchen. “Rio?”

When she comes back, she holds your Witches’ Brew sign. She places it beside the skeleton and together you view the new addition to your seasonal decor.

“There,” Rio says. “Now it’s how it should be.”

A dead murderous clown selling witches’ brew on your couch — an addition to your household that you never would have suspected necessary, but one that makes your fall celebrations feel complete. Now Rio kisses you, peppering your face in more black lipstick stains, love outstanding the transience of autumn.

#agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #agatha all along x reader #rio vidal fluff #rio vidal x you #rio x reader #marvel

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l-artemisia-del-secolo · 15 days ago

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You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound. You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit." Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time. You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful. You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

#marvel self insert #marvel #agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x you

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artsninspo · 5 months ago

Text

"CHEERS 🥂 "- RIO X READER

Summary: Rio's planned date night. Finally, you get a front row seat to who he is and a taste of what he's capable of. This one's steamy 🌶️

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Word-Count: 2.5K

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

Read the first three parts of this Rio miniseries:

“Baby-Girl”

“Whisky, neat”

"Jealous Type"

Rio’s been applying pressure. A quality you enjoy in a man. He’s been a great communicator, texting and FaceTiming you when he’s free for the past four days. His cool demeanour is never ending. Neither are the lazy promises about what’s awaiting you the next time you see him in person. After that kiss you know it’ll be good, straight to the point, signed, sealed, delivered - sincerely Rio. In the past few days you’ve come to appreciate him. There were no forever promises snapping you out of the thrill of the here and now with him.

8:30 Sharp. Don’t play with me either baby girl.

-Rio

The way he’s asserted himself leaves little room for anyone else to be entertained. He’s a handful. It’s the last message he’s sent you hours ago now. Clad in your robe you turn to face your closet. Your hair and make up is what it is already. Now onto the conundrum of what to wear? Did it really even matter? Swallowing you walk from the nudes to the colourful section of the closet. Pausing you shake your head with a finger to your lips turning around to the blacks. You don’t want to clash with him, you want to blend in to his low-key air. You don’t want to do too much at all. You skim over dresses better suited for wow factor and settle on one that will do the trick. Accessories are easy and you choose simple ones that flatter your dress. With a final turn you look yourself over. It gives calm cool and collected, simple, not too fussy. Checking your watch you see you have thirty minutes until Rio arrives. You ensure your necessities are in your purse before spraying perfume.

The thrumming in your chest is a pleasant reminder of wants to come. You don’t remember a time outside of adolescence where someone had this kind of effect on you. Only this time you aren’t sneaking out of the house, you’re ignoring your brothers warnings. Deciding against games or grand entrances you head down to the lobby to be on time and step out five minutes early to see Rio in the parking lot of your condo leaning against his G-Wagon giving his phone his undivided attention. You're halfway to him when he senses you. You smile first allowing his raised brows and caution to settle into a pleased smile.

“Who were we texting?” You ask making him chuckle. His eyes drink you in making their way up slowly before he looks displeased. His jaw settles and when his eyes meet yours again he looks angry.

“Don’t disrespect me with this simple shit. I know you have way better up there” he comments acutely. There’s little to be said about his choice of clothing, nor are you his personal barbie.

“Didn’t think it mattered when you’re just going to take it off me?” You shrug leaning against his car to match his nonchalance. His frustration fades quickly and Rio doesn’t know exactly what to do with you. He tries his best not to smile as you snicker. He gets the door helping you in. When he gets in he reaches in the glove box and takes out a jewelry bag handing it to you.

“Instead of flowers” he says. You open it to see a pretty tennis bracelet. It’s definitely a first.

“Much better than flowers, a consolation for your asshole remark just now” you tell him holding out your wrist. He takes the bracelet putting it on and you admire the shine.

“You not going to accuse me of buying you fake diamonds? No smart remark?” He asks pulling off.

“It’s no fun when you expect it” you shrug leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks”

Rio turns reaching for your chin he takes it between his thumb and index finger to kiss you properly, claiming you as his for the moment. “You’re welcome” he says having given you two reasons to smile tonight..

Your dinner is on the water, just the two of you on a nice boat sailing around the cities skyline at night. Each of the dinner courses are delicious and conversation with Rio is easy so long as the conversations float over the personal. He keeps his guard up setting a clear boundary you're comfortable respecting. He gives you his jacket when you shiver playing the role of a gentleman well. You feel none of the first date jitters or dread, it’s like you’ve known Rio for some time. He’s meticulous in having things perfect for you. You don’t get the sense he’s showing off but more like he’s a stickler for order and satisfaction which bodes well for you later. Away from the dinner table and rnow outside on the deck you pour two shots of tequila.

“Truth or drink?” You say raising the glass and taking a shot for good measure. Rio throws one back nodding - ready for whatever. He opens the bottle pouring out another two shots.

“When’s the last time a man made you cum?” He asks being the forward asshole he is.

“Awhile” you respond evasively.

“A few months or a few years?” He asks.

“Months, now I get two questions” you tell him.

“Go on baby-girl” he says like he’s talking you through it leaving you to blush because he is hell.

“Why doesn’t my brother like you?” you ask and he grimaces; it’s a surprise. In Rio’s mind there are too many reasons to name. Reasons that’ll have you off the boat and ironing his calls.

“That’s between us, nothing to do with you” he responds taking a sip.

“If the roles were reversed would you want your sister sitting where I am?” You ask and Rio smiles, you know the answer before it leaves his lips.

“No” he confirms. “What to you like most about me?” Rio asks and it’s a surprise to you. His confidence makes the question seem a little out of place. Racking through your brain you try to narrow it down. There are more physically attractive guys, taller guys, richer guys, better dressed guys… Losing yourself in your thoughts you look back at him looking him over.

“I don’t know, that you have yourself together and you’re not afraid to put in work.” you shrug surprising him.

“What do you do for fun, hobby wise?” You ask.

“You don’t want to know what I like about you?” Rio asks.

“No” you tell him outright and he laughs.

“Boxing, helps me put the stress away” he responds and you feel the boats engines stop. Turning you realize you’re back at the dock and turn to find Rio watching you intently.

“Don’t kill the fun now by falling in love” you tease getting your bag.

“You’d fall first baby-girl” he taunts smoothly.

“Not likely” you comment heading off of the boat.

“Not likely?” he chuckles like it’s a first. “Keep playing with me.”

“Or what? I’ll probably like whatever punishment you can think of,” you shrug being forward turning back you see a blush on his cheeks as he smiles. You stop walking to let him catch up and find him chuckling a little like he’s broken character.

“Most likely, if I’m nice” Rio says into your ear as he holds you from behind. Chuckling you allow him to lead the way forward to his car. His cologne is perfect, the entire night has been perfect.

“Don’t call me unless you’re being nice” you respond.

“Mhm?” Rio raises a brow as he gets in.

“I thought you might like me being mean?”

“No, I don’t intend to underestimate what that means. Not my kind of surprise” you shrug looking over at him and his smile turns into contemplation. There you were right again. He’d passed curiosity, the cat and mouse was over and now he was considering your words a valid warning. Having a son and family were enough of a liability in his work. Things with you could get complicated especially with his involvement with Ruby and Stan. The pussy will be good; that Rio is for certain but now’s not the time he needs to be spending wide open chasing his next hit or the next thrill. He already knows you don’t know how to behave, taming you won’t be as fun as coming in and shutting shit down every time. For now there was a very clear scheduling conflict as well as ethical concerns.

Besides, Rio can’t quite decide your type of crazy yet. One round won’t suffice and after a few … would you slash his tires for his involvement with Stan and Ruby? Would you ignore him or worse? He could see the promise of mutually assured devastation in your eyes should you have to go head to head.

“Second thoughts, wow. Didn’t think Mr. Christopher would bitch out first” you taunt.

Fuck it

Rio mutters leaning over to kiss you. It’s not what you expect. The switch from contemplative to sensual heats your body in an instant. Unbridled passion, no time for logic.

Its on.

You can feel the seat going back and steady Rio as he maneuvers the seat flat not letting up. His tongue spelling promise of his other talents. Better than in the bathroom. You feel your body relaxing into it, the sensations rushing to your core as it readies itself in anticipation of pleasure. His hands run featherlight touches up your legs before lifting them to wrap around his torso.

It’s a first, sex in a car.

The thought of it flushes you sending goosebumps to cover your flesh. You feel pliable under his touch as he takes the lead. “Quiet now huh?” His voice is low as he peppers kisses on your neck. Before you can speak you feel him pressing into you and a moan of pleasure is your response. “Doesn’t feel like you’re the whore you pretend to be” he whispers enjoying the grip on his fingers.

“Shut up” you moan before your eyes close he comes in for another kiss that is messier an more frenzied. The nights foreplay has come to an end. Honestly there had been other plans but there was no way either of you were doing anything other than getting what you came for. His size is impressive and leaves you reeling to catch your breath as he uses technique that tells he’s no novice. He hits all of the right spots leaving you a pillow princess as he gives and takes until you're both sated and breathing hard. He slides off the condom leaning back and you smile seeing the fogged glasses until flashing lights snap you out of the fantasy. A knock Rio’s glass startles the both of you as a figure peers in. Instinct makes Rio shield your indisposed body from view. It’s a frenzied rush to cover yourself and Rio manages to put his dick away.

The cop demands you to get out of the car and you both do. Rio makes no effort to hurry, his aura reeks disgust and impatience. So much so that there’s no charming your way out of a seriously tacky potential charge. You rage silently as you’re cuffed and placed in the back of the cop car with Christopher.

“Bonnie and Clyde huh?” Rio whispers earning him an elbow. Rio chuckles not understanding the gravity the situation or your embarrassment. “Relax, love I have a few more rounds in me” he continues ready for more as you seethe by his side. The precinct is lit in tacky fluorescent lighting that is jarring on the eyes after a night of warm romantic hues. All eyes are on you and so is the chatter. Your stomach falls in your ass the moment you realize Stan was once one of them.

“Would you like your phone call or do we head outback and you take care of me like you did him?” A portly cop propositions.

“Fuck did you just say?” Rio snaps finished with his call. Cops pop their heads up and the phone rings.

“Buddy don’t try to look tough for the girl” the pig says balling his fists.

“Stop!” A female cop says popping her head up holding a phone. “Stop now and let them go” she demands and there is some shuffling as the phone is passed around. Rio waits impatiently seemingly bored by the process until the cuffs are removed from his wrists and then your’s. The look he gives the dirty cop makes you nervous for the mans well being as he takes your hand walking you out. You stop now feeling the gravity of it. A man who can fuck like him and stay that cool under pressure is dangerous. A man cops tread lightly with is something else entirely. The big leagues, very major. Looking up at him you curse yourself knowing the date and any romance between you is done. For the first time your brothers protective instinct really was trying to shield you from serious trouble. The part of your brain that loves a thrill is ready to fight against it but you stand firm. Instead of making a scene you re enter the car once the two of you are returned to the marina with profuse apologies. Reveries of how he felt wash over you, the feeling of being kissed and the fresh memories dance around your mind. You don’t have to ask - Rio drives you home and parks in your parking lot.

This time the silence between you both is thick once the engine shuts off. Its like all the progress and familiarity has been washed away in spite of you still being able to feel the effects of him on your body.

“I’m sorry, I planned to take you to my place. Everything will be wiped your record and reputation will be fine” he says speaking first. Everything about him screamed he wasn’t fond of apologies. Turning you see his eyes are sincere and you swallow letting your seatbelt loose.

“Rio...”

“Don’t say it” he smiles looking down into his hands. “Don’t say it baby girl” he sighs holding your gaze. You want to invite him up and ride him till your frustration fades. You want rounds two three and four if your bodies can take it but for once your head is resigned against the thrill.

“I had fun” you admit earning a disappointed nod from Rio. He gets out of his car with you and heads into the trunk and walks towards you with a large bottle of Ace of Spades champagne.

“Cheers” he says bidding you goodbye with Champagne what was supposed to kick off the fun in his hand. Looking up at him as the gold bottle sparkles along with the newly gifted bracelet in the light you look at the forbidden fruits contemplating a few more rounds or if you plan to kick the habit cold turkey.

“Cheers” you respond with a smile.

_________

Author's Note: Thank you for all your support and patience on this series. It means more than you know. I love writing for character I feel like we should have got more of. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment, like and reblog to let me know 💖

#masterlist #rio x you #rio good girls imagine #good girls rio #manny montana x reader #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls #rio x reader #rio

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child-of-the-danube · 26 days ago

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I'm still in my Lilia brain rot era and I keep thinking about her and Agatha, and their dynamic and parallels.

Like, Agatha is a dick to everyone from the start, even Teen, but she's extremely chill and even, for her being who she is, weirdly respectful towards Lilia. Maybe it's because of the age, maybe it's because Lilia was the only one to show she still had true power when they first met, maybe it's because they share experience and persecution the younger ones don't truly understand, maybe Agatha just has a soft spot for those who are very clearly outcasts and weirdos.

The only sting at Lilia I can recall is calling her "Dory" in the last trial lmao

She never once questions or mocks her gaps. Hell, she said "we came to the right place" AFTER she saw Lilia scream her head off in ep2 over, to them, nothing. "Hmm, this bitch a lil bonkers, but that's exactly what I like and need :)"

She told Lilia that she couldn't take her power unless she's blasted with it - something she was certainly aiming for if the door didn't open and that ended up saving them in ep2 when she was using her ye old technique of being a menace. She may have told it to her only to get her in, but that's a big minus to her plan B.

When everyone had their hallucinations, Agatha didn't mock Lilia when she was, once again, "being weird". She believed her and reassured her in a soft tone that it was ok.

One interaction I found really funny is in ep3 when Teen asks about a sous vide machine and Agatha turns to Lilia with that "What the fuck is that? That wasn't around in our time" look

Usually when one of them starts spewing wisdom, someone will give a snarky remark, usually Agatha, but when they were talking about summoning a new green witch, Agatha let Lilia speak and was the only one who, at least somewhat, listened to her advice (50/50 but still haha). It was Lilia after all who was the first one to, tho reluctantly, agree to Agatha's idea of summoning a back up green witch.

Also the way Agatha looks at Lilia when she calls Jen out for giving Sharon only one dose of antidote when she had two glasses of wine. It's just so "mmm 😈 I like this one"

Agatha's first choice for "who could possibly play piano" wasn't Alice. Ya know the daughter of a rock goddess who would be the most logical choice. It was Lilia and I find that sweet and a lil funny too.

Lilia didn't tell Agatha's Salem story with judgement, even if she said "when Agatha killed her original coven". It was delivered as mere fact to explain the story.

Then when Evanora showed up and Lilia looks angry and almost disgusted at what she's hearing her say to Agatha. Even after Alice's death, she didn't jump on Agatha's back and accuse her. She let her be cause she was clearly distraught.

Agatha "I'm not drinking the poison. You can suffer but I won't!" Harkness jumped on Lilia and covered her with her own body in the latest episode when the sword was about to impale her. And then she let her do her magic even if it didn't seem to work as the ceiling was still falling and even if she thought tarot was bullshit. She trusted she knew what she was doing.

And the look they give eachother when Lilia reveals Rio is Death. Lilia's face reads as terrified, but more than terrified, she seems to have a moment of compassion. It's the look of "How deeply fucked must your life have been that the only one that ever showed you love and kindness is the one who everyone else sees as the bringer of pain?". Death broke Lilia's heart many a time, but in that moment she understood, she broke Agatha's heart too in even worse ways.

AGATHA LIKED HER! SHE LIKED HER FROM THE START AND RESPECTED HER! AND LILIA LIKED HER TOO, DESPITE THE INITIAL SUSPICIONS!!!

I need to know what her reaction to finding out Lilia sacrificed herself to kill the threat that was specifically after her will be. Will she brush it off and pretend she doesn't care to keep appearing stern and emotionless or will this be the thing that finally makes her realise people care for her? Cause Agatha has never had anyone, except literal Death, show her kindness, much less sacrifice themselves so she could keep living. And I find it beautifully poetic that the one other person Death has known well for centuries, who Death has acknowledged by name in that coven, was the one to do that.

Again, I'm aware that this is just my brain rot speaking, but Lilia was truly the MVP. She's the one with wisdom, the biggest experience, the one with seemingly most patience, the hype man ("Jennifer, look what you did", "It was all for you", "Don't worry, baby. We're cool"). Her trial is the only one where the rest was in fact not needed and was of no help. Actually, all they did was make it worse. The first three trials depended on teamwork. Lilia's was truly solvable ONLY by Lilia.

Anyways, Lilia mentally adopted Agatha and realised she truly was part of her coven and therefore worth dying for and I will never fucking recover 💔💔😭😭

#agatha all along #AAA #Agatha Harkness #Kathryn Hahn #Lilia Calderu #Patti Lupone #my thoughts have been consumed by their relationship since ep7 came out #I am unable to be normal about it #I need an AU where a young Lilia first comes to the US #and finds a freshly shunned from her coven baby Agatha #and takes her in #I NEED MORE OF THEM

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theaskywalker · 7 months ago

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hi, it's me again! I wanted to ask something that's a bit less fluff if that's okay:)

(idk if you do smut, couldn't find anything about that, so sorry if you don't)

I was thinking Seth clearwater and fem!reader

(again soz)

having a honeymoon! like Bellas but, little longer and softer

(Because has a soft boy and I love him for that. would love for him to break the bed if you put that in there:)

thank you for reading and drink water and go cute a tasty snack!

(You could do Jacob black with this to if you would like I've read all the good Fics of both and can't get enough of them:( .)

Honeymoon

Seth Clearwater x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it turned out decent. A big thank you to ghosty-boo-shh for the request 😊

Warnings: Mentions of oral sex (fem!receiving), Unprotected sex

❥ Seth Clearwater had always been a romantic at heart.

❥ When he first imprinted on you, he spent hours fantasizing about important relationship milestones such as moving in together, getting married and starting your own family.

❥ He desperately wanted all of these.

❥ If it was up to Seth, the two of you would get married right after your relationship became official.

❥ But you wanted to take the relationship one step at a time and he respected that.

❥ Fast forward to your two-year anniversary, when Seth decided that it was finally time to make you Mrs Clearwater.

❥ Seth suggested celebrating your anniversary at your favourite restaurant in Port Angeles.

❥ After a delicious meal Seth remarked that it was time for a dessert.

❥ The waiter came minutes later with a chocolate cake and placed it right in the middle of the table.

❥ To your surprise the cake had a large ''Will you marry me?'' sign in white frosting.

❥ When you looked over at Seth, he was already kneeling down holding a small box with a beautiful diamond ring.

"Yes" you replied instantly and hugged him with tears in your eyes.

❥ Everyone was ecstatic when you announced it.

❥ Especially the pack.

❥ Preparations for the wedding started right after the announcement.

❥ You and Seth had agreed on a small ceremony at the beach and a barbeque afterwards for your family and close friends.

❥ The pack (minus Leah) set up the whole event and made sure that every little detail was perfect for the big day.

❥ They had help by the vampires of course as most of the Cullens had taken a liking to Seth.

❥ With the boys working on the wedding venue, you and the girls set out to send the invitations and select the dress.

❥ Selecting the right dress was easier said than done.

❥ Leah and Alice had completely different opinions on the matter.

❥ Alice advised you to go for something fancy.

❥ And Leah thought that a boho design would be more appropriate.

❥ But the final word on the matter was yours to make.

❥ So, after many dress fittings you finally found the one.

❥ The weeks passed and the big day finally came.

❥ Seth couldn't take his eyes off you as you walked down the aisle.

❥ Looking breathtaking in your white dress.

❥ Vows were exchanged and with a tender kiss you and Seth became husband and wife.

❥ At the after-wedding barbeque you had the time of your life dancing with your husband and close friends.

❥ When it was time to leave for the honeymoon, Carlisle and Esme surprised both you and Seth by giving you plane tickets for Rio de Janeiro and full access to Isle Esme.

❥ Seth and you were beyond grateful for the gift.

❥ The flight to Rio de Janeiro and boat ride to Isle Esme filled you with excitement about what was to come.

❥ Upon arriving on the house that would be your home for the next month, Seth gently picked you up and carried you inside.

❥ You giggled at the gesture and thanked him with a kiss when he placed you down.

"Shall we take a bath, Mrs Clearwater?" he asked.

"Of course" you replied with a wink.

❥ The two of you headed to the bathroom .

❥ While Seth filled the bathtub, you slowly removed your dress and lingerie.

❥ Without breaking eye contact with him.

❥ Seth felt a lump in his throat as he stared at your curves.

❥ Feeling hornier as each minute passed.

❥ You approached Seth and helped him remove his clothing.

❥ Once the bathtub was ready, you and Seth proceeded to enter.

❥ Seth rubbed your back, helping your muscles relax.

❥ You returned the favour by lovingly massaging his scalp.

❥ What started as a relaxing and intimate moment between a newlywed couple quickly grew into a passionate make out session.

❥ Seth couldn't stop kissing your lips as his hands travelled on your body, before settling on your thighs.

❥ You straddled his hips and deepened the kiss.

❥ His wolf side took over and he picked you up, heading out of the bathtub in a hurry and laying you onto the canopied bed.

❥ Not caring for the mess your wet and shampooed bodies left on the sheets.

❥ Seth left steamy kisses on your neck and breasts.

❥ He then moved to your inner thighs and eventually found the delicate spot between your legs.

❥ Soft moans escaped your lips as his kisses set your body on fire.

"I'm close" you whispered while tightly clutching his black hair.

❥ Seth knew exactly what you wanted and soon the pleasurable feeling spread through your whole body.

❥ He then kissed you hard on the lips and awaited for your consent to take things further.

❥ You nodded impatiently.

❥ Seth entered you gently at first and then picked up his speed.

❥ Pounding relentlessly into you.

❥ Stretching your tight walls with each thrust.

❥ Seth couldn't get enough of this.

❥ He felt divine when inside you.

❥ It was a mutual feeling...

❥ Things got so heated that he ended up using his wolfish strength a little too much.

❥ Resulting in the both of you landing on the floor.

❥ Bye bye bed...

❥ You and Seth laughed it off and continued your erotic dance without interruption.

❥ Having your climaxes simultaneously on the floor. covered with feathers from the mattress.

❥ After getting a proper bath and tidying up the mess in the bedroom, you layed in Seth's arms and enjoyed how blishful it was.

The honeymoon had just started and it was going to be a memorable one...

Masterlist

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #seth clearwater #seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater headcanons #headcanons #twilight wolves #twilight wolfpack #twilight headcanons #smut #honeymoon #married life #human reader #female reader #imprinting #00s #la push

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months ago

Text

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Are We The Waiting” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I know he has a scalpel in his bag,” Baela says, meaning Aemond. You are sitting with her on the front steps of a two-story house—1970s construction, split foyer, pale blue siding and rust-red bricks—on Trux Street in Plymouth, Ohio. This town was named for the place where the pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower over four hundred years ago, pioneers who crossed through the doorway of an unfathomably changing world to die of disease, cold, accidents, starvation, violence. You wonder if you are so unlike them. “He’s assisted with c-sections before, if it comes to that. And he has needles and surgical thread. But he doesn’t have any way to anesthetize me.”

Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the silver Chrysler Pacifica parked at the end of the driveway and surveilling the road. Everyone else is inside tearing the house apart as they try to find the keys. You don’t know what to say to Baela. There is no way to console her except by lying, and she’s too smart for that. “How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know.” She laughs like she’s on the verge of losing her mind. You don’t blame her. “The doctors calculate it based on the date of your last period, but mine was all over the place. I had tried a few different birth control pills and had all these side effects, weird spotting and cramping, no sex drive, feeling depressed, so I just figured I’d go all natural for six months and give my body a chance to reset. And we all know how that turned out.” She skims her palms over the globe of her belly, hidden beneath the flowing periwinkle cotton of a maternity dress she found at the Walmart back in Shenandoah. “I’m officially due in four weeks.”

“But it could happen at any time.”

Baela nods miserably. “My mum had me and Rhaena the…you know…the natural way, and it was smooth sailing. But she needed an emergency c-section with my little brother. What happens if that’s how it goes for me? Do you ever think about all the ways people can die now? It’s not just the zombies. I could get murdered, or fall and crack my skull open, or get a cut that turns septic, or rupture my appendix, or get frostbite or heatstroke, or get bitten by a snake. It never ends. We’ll be balancing on the knife’s edge for the rest of our lives.”

You wish you were better with words; you wish you were someone who spoke effortlessly like Rio or Aegon. You reply with the only thing you can think of. “Humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and for the vast majority of that time with no modern medicine. It was dangerous, and it was painful. But there have always been people who made it. We wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Remarkably, this seems to help. “I know Aemond will do everything he can for me,” Baela says, more steadily now. “He’s always been the most dependable one. So serious, so protective. Daeron was visiting us in Boston when everything shut down, and Aemond wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight for weeks…then Aemond almost died when he lost his eye and Daeron proved he could take care of himself with his compound bow.” Baela unwraps a Twizzler and takes a bite out of it, gazing vacantly at the sky, calm and overcast now that the storm has passed, breezy, mid-80s. She doesn’t even like them, but she’s been eating through a pack of Twizzlers Luke had been carrying in his backpack for Jace, slow mindless chewing like a cow’s. “Aemond feels responsible for you now. And that’s difficult when there’s so little control he actually has over what ends up happening.”

“Baela…I’m so sorry about Jace.”

“Drowning isn’t so bad, I guess. I hope he drowned. I hope he was dead before he washed ashore and they ate him.” Baela turns to you, eyes glazed. “Do you think we should have shot him before we left the river? To make sure he didn’t die in pain? You could have done it if you wanted to. Your aim is good enough.”

“No,” you say, horrified but trying to soften it. “I think that would have been…immoral.”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jace to show the baby, everything was online or on my phone, and now that’s all…gone. Just gone. Like he never even existed. How am I going to explain to my child what Boston was, or law school, or aerospace engineering, or grocery stores or shopping malls or Instagram, or anything else about our lives before this whole fucking disaster? All they’ll ever know is running from monsters, scrounging for shelter and supplies from the ruins of civilization.”

“The world is going to come back, Baela. Maybe not for five or ten years, and maybe looking a lot different than it did before, but humanity will recover. The Black Death wasn’t the end, and neither were the World Wars or the Mongol invasions or the colonization of the Americas, or famines or floods or volcanic eruptions. The zombies won’t end us either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I want to. “Yeah, I do. We just have to hold on until the tide turns. We can’t give up.”

“In that case, I’ll try not to go completely insane in the immediate future. Thank God Rhaena and Luke are still here. Do you have any siblings?”

You smile vaguely. “Four.”

“Wow,” Baela says. “Do you know where they are now?”

There is an interruption before you have to decide how to answer: a roaring high above in the sky, a remote mechanical growling. You and Baela both look up to see a jet zooming by, just below the steel grey cloud cover and leaving a trail of condensation behind it like a comet’s tail of eons-old cosmic dust. From where he is perched atop the Pacifica, Luke is pointing at the jet to show Rhaena. Aemond, Rio, Aegon, and Daeron come rocketing out of the house to find the source of the noise. After a moment, Helaena moseys onto the front porch as well, tucking flashlights and napkins into her burlap messenger bag. Meanwhile, Aegon is filling his pockets with packs of Marlboro Golds and orange prescription bottles labelled Percocet.

“Is that an airplane?!” Aegon gasps. “People are flying again?! Oh, we are back, baby! We are so back! I’m catching the next flight to SFO, peace out bitches, no more Oregon Trail for me!”

“It’s a jet,” Aemond says flatly. “Not a passenger carrier. Probably military.”

“Doesn’t look like one of ours.” Rio turns to you for confirmation.

“No, I don’t recognize it.”

“Then who the fuck is up there?” Aegon says. “Canada? The U.K.?”

Rio sighs, ruffling Aegon’s already quite disheveled blonde hair. “Who knows, Honey Bun. Maybe it’s China or Russia swinging by to drop nukes on any survivors.”

“Fortunately, nobody’s going to waste a nuclear bomb on freaking Plymouth, Ohio,” Baela says, watching the jet vanish into the west, the droning of its engines replaced by the breeze through the sugar maples and sycamores, the screeching of cicadas and chirps of robins. “No luck finding the keys?”

Aemond frowns as he shakes his head, tapping his chin anxiously. He knows she can’t walk much farther.

“How do none of us know how to hotwire a car?” Aegon demands, exasperated.

Rio replies cheerfully: “Well, Chips and I have been diligently serving this glorious nation since we were eighteen years old, and you’re all clueless rich kids. So…I think that just about sums it up.”

“I need more arrows,” Daeron says, clutching his compound bow. All the ones he had are now speared through zombies along the river where Jace died. When you snuck away from the farm at dawn, Luke used his binoculars to check the shores; they were still swamped with zombies, even more than the night before. They are pack animals; alone, they are aimless and easily confounded, their memories calamitously short. As part of a group—if they were crows they’d be a murder, if they were camels they’d be a caravan—zombies attract and guide each other, moving symbiotically like planets and moons locked in orbit.

“I think you’re going to have to start making them the old fashioned way, kid,” Rio tells Daeron, accompanied by a rough pat of encouragement on the back.

“What, like with sticks?!”

“Yeah. Use a knife to carve one end to make it pointy and you’re good to go.”

“Love it. Very pioneer.” Aegon holds up a Sony Walkman, pink and covered with Disney stickers, Ava spelled out across the top in glittering rhinestones. “At least I found this. Helaena, do we have any more AA batteries?” She fishes around in her bag and hands him a pair.

Baela gapes at him, but she’s smiling. It’s horrible, it’s absurd, it’s something you can’t help but find a macabre humor in. “Aegon, you cannot use that poor eaten kid’s CD player. You know it’s haunted.”

Aegon sings like a jingle from a commercial: “Little Ava died, RIP. Now I get to listen to my CDs.”

“Oh, that is so fucked up!” Rio cackles.

You say, grinning: “Aegon, I’m really going to miss you when we’re all in heaven at the bowling alley made of clouds and you’re downstairs in the fiery version of the afterlife.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Chipmunk. You’re the one who’s going to die without ever having an orgasm.”

“You don’t need a man for that, Aegon,” Baela says.

“You definitely don’t,” you agree. Aemond glances over at you, intrigued. You stare dauntlessly back. What? You said you weren’t interested. The corners of his lips curl up in a reticent smile; he looks down to try to hide it. He’s touching his chin again. His cheeks flush pink as his mind wanders.

Rio chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember your little experimenting phase. Lots of trips to the Spencer’s in the Tysons Corner mall when we were stationed at Anacostia.”

You raise your eyebrows, though you’re not annoyed. “I thought you were never going to tell anybody about that.”

“It’s the end of the world, baby. No time to be shy.” Then Rio asks Aemond: “Since we’re here and it’s quiet, you want to go ahead and check every house that has a car with the fuel cap still closed? There are some minivans and SUVs down at the other end of the street. Even a few gallons of gas will take us farther than days on foot.”

Aegon adds, checking his map: “A half tank would get us all the way to Decatur, Indiana.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Aemond says. He offers Baela a hand and helps lift her to her feet. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down at the driveway with the black…what is that, a Honda Odyssey? You know the one, the van in front of the yellow house. Don’t go inside until I get there.”

“Yup!” Aegon agrees as he speeds off, racing Daeron to the house. Rio—not one for sprinting—jogs after them with his Remington in hand, ready to bash rotting skulls in at a moment’s notice. Baela toddles down to the Pacifica to tell Luke and Rhaena the plan, her periwinkle dress billowing in the wind; then they climb down to walk with her. Helaena floats across the sidewalk like a ghost, pausing to pick buttercups that grow up between the cracks in the cement.

Aemond has been waiting until the two of you are alone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” A few houses down, a female zombie—early-twenties, white bikini top, red Ohio State shorts—staggers across the yard and in her attempt to snag Aegon falls and impales herself on the white picket fence. She is suspended there, clawing and yowling, her blackening intestines and dark clotted blood staining the wood. Aegon takes his time getting into a stance and swings his golf club like he’s at a driving range. He hits her dead-on, caves the front of her face in, takes a few more shots just to be sure.

“I get what’s in Oregon for Rio,” Aemond says. “Sophie, the baby, his parents. But why are you going there?”

“Rio’s my best friend. He might be my only friend who’s still alive. And when we left Saratoga Springs, he made me promise that I wouldn’t let him die alone. So before anything else, I have to make sure he gets to Odessa and finds his family. And then I can figure out what’s next for me. But if it really is safe there, I don’t see why I’d leave. I’ve never wanted to be on my own. Maybe I can end up having a family in Oregon too.”

Aemond rests his elbows on the porch railing. He’s teasing you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m still alive.”

You tease him back. He deserves it. “I’m not sure about you and me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Would you?”

“Resoundingly.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

He considers you. “You know, Kentucky might have been a good place for you to hide out. And it would be a lot closer than Oregon.”

You stand up, throwing on your backpack full of bullets for your Beretta M9s, beef jerky and peanut butter crackers and granola bars, lip balm, bottles of water, Kleenex tissues, Juicy Fruit, miscellaneous treasures from the road, practically worthless trinkets made so impossibly valuable. “We’re done here, right?”

Aemond is disappointed, though not with you. He has committed an error he cannot understand. “Yeah, we’re done.” He walks with you to the yellow house, your sneakers pounding in tandem on the sidewalk, squirrels and rabbits darting through the overgrown lawns, eastern tiger swallowtails swooping between blossoms.

Aegon says when you and Aemond arrive in the driveway, nodding to the once-attractive blonde zombie pawing and licking at the glass of the living room window: “Who wants to take care of Ryan Seacrest?”

“Got it,” Rio replies immediately. He kicks down the front door, macerates the zombie’s skull with the butt of his Remington, then sweeps through the kitchen and dining room searching for any other monsters in need of hasty euthanasia. He doesn’t find any. He drags the corpse outside to lessen the stench of decomposition and opens all the downstairs windows.

“Commence Operation Find The Minivan Keys,” Aegon says as he rummages through drawers and cabinets. Helaena joins him, seeking so delicately she is almost soundless, her large blue eyes flicking from place to place. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron stay outside to keep watch. Baela collapses into a recliner in one corner of the living room and is dozing within seconds.

“I’ll clear the upstairs,” Aemond volunteers, then asks you: “Watch my blind side?”

You can’t help but smile; it is a generous invitation. It is an honor. You shadow him up the staircase of olive green carpet, through the hallway, into each of the three bedrooms and one full bath. When you are certain it is safe—exploring the back of every closet, under every bed—you and Aemond begin searching for weapons and car keys. The main bedroom is like a forest: blankets pattered with trees and deer, wood furniture, paintings of the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. You investigate every drawer of the nightstand and dresser, then go to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond peeks out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then closes the bedroom door. Your eyes track him quizzically, shy skittish optimism, your head tilted, your fingers finding the dresser behind you, cool rust-hued oak, a color like dried blood. You slip off your backpack. Then Aemond comes to you like a returning comet—once in a lifetime, once in an eon—and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, soft, careful, unhurried, then turning famished, sweltering incurable hunger. You lift yourself up onto the dresser; your thighs have parted, and Aemond is between them, still fully clothed and leaving yours in place too, so innocent, so spotless, and yet in your mind you are imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath him as he opens and fills you, to be so irredeemably close to another person, to watch and listen as he teaches you what to do.

Right here? Right now?

It suddenly strikes you as too soon; you want this but you aren’t ready. Your heart races, you can’t catch your breath. “I am obligated to make you aware that according to your own calculations, I am likely dangerously fertile at the moment.”

Aemond grins as he bites playfully at your lower lip. “Relax. We’re not rounding all the bases this time.”

His voice evaporates your panic, lulls your rushing blood. Your muscles turn to seamless rippling water. Your bones crave the weight of his. “Yeah, totally, good, that’s good. Just making sure.”

“I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

In reply, you unbutton your denim shorts and pull down the zipper, slowly, very slowly, your gaze linked with his like torn flesh stitched together. He’s close enough to kiss you again, but he doesn’t; he takes your chin gently and turns your face to the side, admiring the curve of your jaw. Then his lips are on your throat and his right hand is skimming down the front of your shirt, over your belly, under your shorts. You gasp—the foreignness of another’s hand here, the disorienting vulnerability—and Aemond stops.

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling. You kiss him deeply, your fingertips tracing his scar, the work of his careful, gifted hands. Aemond does not flinch away. He presses his face into your palm, offering himself fully, taking shelter in you. And everything other than him—this house, this world, this age, this westward journey, this apocalypse—goes quiet, quiet, quiet, like when you are shooting, like when you are hammering nails under the sun. Aemond makes everything horrifying disappear. It is the greatest sort of magic you can imagine.

“So,” he says. “What did you buy at Spencer’s?”

“Green Day t-shirts.”

“Sure.”

“And some, uh, battery-powered companionship.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s fingers are moving against you; it is increasingly difficult to respond to his questions. “Internal or external? Or both?”

“Oh, definitely…um…I stayed on the outside, mostly. I tried…oh wow, okay…inside a few times, but I didn’t get much out of it. It was mostly just uncomfortable.”

“No problem. We’ll work up to that.”

“Will we?” You hope you don’t sound too desperate. The warm coiling pleasure is swelling, strengthening, begging to be released, loosed like an arrow or fired like a bullet. Aemond’s fingers slip through your wetness, circling and pressing down harder, insistently, masterfully. It feels different than using toys: it is more gradual, less sharp, helplessly overpowering.

“That’s my plan. If you’ll allow it.”

You exhale a threadbare ghost of a whimper against his throat and then reach for his shorts, fumbling blindly for the button and zipper.

“No, don’t do anything,” Aemond murmurs, soft and pleading, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you. Please let me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing a lot right at the moment.” You’re close now, your breaths quick and panting. You throw your arms around the back of Aemond’s neck and fold into him, feeling the thudding pulse of his carotid artery beneath your fingertips, the softness of his lips and unscarred cheek as he nuzzles the side of your face. It’s so quiet, but there’s no need to fill the silence, no words, no uneasiness. You’ve always wondered what you would have to do to please a man, what premeditated motions and praises you would offer him, niceties, perhaps even lies. But this is effortless. The shimmering golden glow like sunlight is here, and he is the one drawing it out of you, water from a well, blood from a tapped vein. The only sound you make is a shuddering inhale, but Aemond knows immediately. He closes his eyes, relieved, proud, beaming, resting his forehead against yours.

He asks: “Can I try…?”

“Yes, do it, please, I want you to.”

Aemond’s hand shifts between your thighs, moves lower, and there is a sudden jolt of pain like a pinch, like a bite. You wince before you can think to disguise it. Immediately, Aemond retreats, kissing your lips and your cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were incredible.”

You reach for his shorts again and unbutton them. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He takes a shaky breath, drags his tongue over the fingers he touched you with, moans so quietly you can barely hear him. He frees himself from his clothes: long and thick, harder than you believed flesh could be. Aemond grasps your hand and places it, demonstrates how to move and how much pressure to apply. Then his own hands drop to grip the edge of the dresser as you stroke him. You nip at his throat, his jaw, the shell of his ear; you coax euphoric sighs from him, feel a high in your bloodstream like something illicit and lethal.

“I’ll be honest,” you say. “I have no idea how that’s ever going to fit inside me.”

Aemond chuckles, distracted. “Women stretch, just like men do. It might take time, but it will happen. And I’ll make sure it’s as good as it can be.”

“I want it to be you, Aemond,” you whisper, and you can feel him throbbing in your hand. “You and no one else. Teach me how to do everything.” Make the world go away.

He gasps as he finishes, a thunderous trembling all over, a gush of white heat that flows over your hand. Curious, you lift it to your mouth. “Don’t—!”

But he’s too late; you lick him from your palm and then recoil at the taste, pungent, bitter, salty.

Aemond laughs hysterically, kissing your mouth and then your forehead. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“I hope I taste better than that.”

“You definitely do.”

You peer up at him, dazed, dreamy. “I really like you, Aemond.”

“You can’t fall in love with me.” It is a taunt; it is a warning.

“If I do, I won’t let you know,” you promise. “You’re on first watch tonight, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay up too.”

“Rio already volunteered to do it.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

“No,” Aemond purrs, brushing your hair back from your face, marveling at you. “I can’t have you sleep deprived. You’re our best shot.”

“I can handle it.”

“You want to be honest with each other, you want to communicate? I like knowing you’re rested. I like knowing you’re safe.”

The door flies open with a bang; Aegon stands in the threshold. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank of gas!” he announces ecstatically, jangling car keys in the air. Then he registers what he’s looking at. “Come outside when you’re done fucking.” Aegon slams the door shut; you hear his Sperry Bahama sneakers drumming on the staircase.

“I guess we should go,” you say reluctantly, untangling yourself from Aemond and sliding down from the dresser.

“Wait.” He gets a water bottle out of your backpack, soaks a handful of Kleenex tissues, and gives them to you to clean yourself off. When you’re done, he wipes himself down too. “Make sure you always take a piss after any…activities. We don’t have antibiotics if you get a kidney infection.”

“I know, doctor. I’ve read Reddit threads.”

“Not a doctor. Just a lowly intern.”

“You seem like an anatomy expert to me,” you say, then head downstairs.

The black Honda Odyssey is idling as the last of the supplies are loaded, the windows down, Baela adjusting the driver’s seat so she can accommodate her belly. Everyone piles inside and she steers the minivan out of the driveway and onto Trux Street. Aegon pops one of his mixtapes into the CD player. The song that pipes through the speakers is Prayer In C:

“Yeah, you never said a word

You didn’t send me no letter

Don’t think I could forgive you…”

“So,” Baela says casually, grinning at you in the rearview mirror. “How was the sex?”

“Stop,” Aemond begs, his face going red, smiling involuntarily.

You say placidly: “I appreciate your interest, but that’s not what we were doing.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Do you know what sex looks like or not, dumbass?”

“They were doing something, okay! Those were not virginal activities!”

“See, our world is slowly dying

I’m not wasting no more time

Don’t think I could believe you…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and watch the abandoned houses pass by in a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Odyssey arrives in Decatur, Indiana just a few hours before sunset, gas to spare and plenty of time to find a safe place to spend the night. You break into a house on the outskirts of the west side of the city: a rancher with a screened-in porch, beach décor, bowls of seashells on tables and spray-painted aluminum dolphins on the wall. Baela plummets into sleep immediately, sharing the largest bed with Rhaena and Luke. Helaena writes in her spider notebook for a while before curling up on the living room couch, Daeron sprawled on the floor beside her with a couch cushion for a pillow. Aegon is in what was once a child’s bedroom; you have the bedroom of a teenage girl, perhaps spirited away to friends or relatives in some other part of the country, perhaps dead, perhaps lurching around out in the night somewhere, mad and murderous. Everything is purple, the walls, the blankets, the stuffed animals that form a mountain on the other half of the bed.

You are exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your thoughts won’t stop racing, stop craving. Aemond and Rio are in rocking chairs out on the porch, keeping watch and working their way through the case of Sunny D they found in the kitchen pantry. You go out to join them, then stop at the screen door that separates the linoleum-floored dining room from the porch. They are discussing you. You sit, legs crossed, listening in the dim silvery light, stars and moon and nothing else.

Aemond is saying: “She doesn’t talk much about where she came from.”

Rio chuckles, a low baritone rumble. “She doesn’t talk much in general. But yeah, don’t expect any juicy revelations. That’s not how she does things.”

“Do you know what her life was like before?”

“I know some of it. I don’t know a lot.” Rio pauses; you can envision him shrugging and running his fingers through his dark curly hair, weighing what you would be okay with him sharing. “I know that when I met her, her mother was calling all the time telling her to send money home. And she’d do it, because she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Then she never had cash for drinks or anything, I was always paying her way, and one day I was finally like ‘Chips, how much do you actually have in your account right now?’ because I figured she must be down real low. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe it when she showed me the balance, she had like three bucks left until her next paycheck, and of course then her mother would be calling again. She sent tens of thousands of dollars home that disappeared, poof, gone, without a trace.”

Aemond sounds stunned. “What did they spend it on?”

“Who the fuck knows with those people. Lottery tickets and cigs, probably. Trips to Virginia Beach. Benny Hinn Bibles. And when she tried to hit the brakes, her mother and siblings got nasty, calling constantly and telling her how awful she was and that they were going to starve. I convinced her to stop picking up the phone, but it took forever. I think she knew by then she was going to have to cut them off if she didn’t want to end up back there, but she needed somebody to give her permission. That was my job. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone from home in years. Hell, Sophie was her AOP.”

“AOP…?”

“Oh, sorry, Arrears of Pay. It’s the person you designate to get all your benefits if you die in the service. I guess she figured that if our base got bombed or our plane went down or something, at least it would end up with my family.”

Aemond is quiet, thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two. “Obviously my circumstances were a lot different. But I understand having to choose between other people’s expectations and yourself.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

Another pause; silent thoughts under glimmering stars and the shrieks of short-lived summer cicadas. “She takes me out of this world for a while. She makes the guilt and the fear go quiet. I want to know everything about her.”

When Rio speaks, he is gentle, compassionate. “The hard truth is, the details aren’t my business. They aren’t yours either. When people enlist, they’re starting over. It’s a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It gets them away from home, but it also gets them away from whoever they were before.”

“She said something like that once. Back at Fort Indiantown Gap.”

“It’s a polite way of telling you to shut up.” You know from his voice that Rio is smiling. “If she wants to forget her old life, you have to let her. If you care about her, you’ll want her to be able to move on.”

“I care.”

“She likes you,” Rio says. “But you could still fuck it up. She’s good at finding reasons not to trust people.”

“It’s a bad way to live.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know. I’m the same way.”

There is quiet now, only the sounds of Sunny D being slurped and cicadas screaming through the darkness. You have intruded enough. You stand and walk back down the hallway, then remember something Aegon said outside a Burger King in Pennsylvania. You go to his bedroom, illuminated by a flashlight pointed towards the ceiling, casting long deformed shadows.

Aegon is lying on his back with his head hanging upside down over the side of the bed—dinosaur blankets, bright red and blue pillows—puffing on a cigarette and listening to his new CD player, previously Ava’s, with both earbuds in. Then he spots you. Still upside down, Aegon hits the pause button on his CD player and says: “Hey, Microchip.”

“What did you mean about people pretending to love you?”

He smirks, shrugs, takes a lazy drag off his Marlboro Gold. “Every friend I’ve ever had has used me for money, mansions, yachts. Every girl I’ve ever fucked has wanted something in return. Mother prefers Daeron, Grandfather prefers Helaena, Criston prefers Aemond, and Father prefers his real estate empire and his model ships. Can you imagine loving a miniature replica of the Titanic more than your own children?”

“No,” you say, honestly and with heavy, gore-red pity. “You shouldn’t have to go back to people who make you feel that way. I wouldn’t.”

Aegon takes another drag as he watches you. “Aemond mentioned you’re from Kentucky.”

“I am.”

“But you won’t be returning.”

“No.”

Aegon nods, like you’ve answered an important question. “Aemond talks about you a lot. It’s cute. It doesn’t make me sick like when he was with Alys. Playing her games, breaking himself in half to follow her rules.”

You peer down at your fingernails, short and functional and unglamorous. You don’t want to hear about the older woman who was his lover, his obsession, his cure, his venom. She was poisonous to him, surely, and yet she was experienced where you are uninitiated and unversed, she had a PhD to compare with your high school diploma. Surely in those seven years he shared moments with her that were divine. Surely even a curse is woven from magic.

“Anyway.” Aegon rolls over, props himself up on his elbows, and extinguishes his cigarette in an empty plastic Sunny D bottle. “I have no particular affinity for my old life or the beach house in California, but that’s where Aemond is going. And I have to be where he is. I have to make sure he’s alright, you know?”

Yes, you do know; that’s how you feel about Rio. “What’s it like? That house up on a cliff all by itself?”

Aegon grins, like he’s caught you in a mouthwateringly compromising position. “Why? You thinking about visiting someday?”

“Just wondering.”

He squirms over to one side of the bed to make room for you, popping in an earbud. “Come listen with me.”

“What is it?”

“Just come over here!”

You cross the room and kick off your sneakers, climb onto the bed, lie down and take the other earbud that Aegon offers you. What you hear when you listen is Don McLean’s American Pie. “Oh, this is ancient.”

“It’s a classic. I wish I’d gotten to live through the 70s.”

“We’ll reinvent them when the world starts up again. Disco and lava lamps and shag carpets. We’ll shoot heroin and listen to vinyl records. Jimmy Carter can be president if he’s still alive.”

Aegon snickers, and then he sings along, hushed but surprisingly melodic, solemn, tender. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, nodding, beckoning for you to join him. You adamantly refuse. You don’t sing in front of anybody, not even Rio.

“I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I’d heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

Aegon shoves your shoulder. “I could be dead tomorrow. Don’t ignore me.”

Self-consciously, but smiling a little bit, you begin to sing with him, so softly you can barely hear yourself. Aegon is beaming, small even white teeth beneath sparkling eyes, a murky cool blue like storm clouds, like the ocean, waves lapping at the shores of Diego Garcia, the Gulf of Tadjoura off the east coast of Djibouti, Corpus Christi Bay, places you once never knew existed.

“And in the streets, the children screamed

The lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”

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