#the whole thing has me stressed as a MF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blitzyn · 11 months ago

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relax

alhaitham x m!reader

Request: well, since requests are open, perhaps I could request an alhaitham X male s/o where s/o has been really stressed lately with school and has been overworking himself. Because of this, alhaitham being the caring boyfriend he is comes to comfort and relax his beloved s/o with sex and aftercare. If possible, pls let alhaitham call his s/o a 'good boy' and just a praise kink in general, tysm!! 💕 — @ezraelo

a/n -> this mf reminds me of my dad so i kinda wrote what I think he'd say if i was in reader's situation tbh. NOT THE SEX THOUGH. anyways pgr fic first then hate sex w/childe next its been decades since I've done him (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) sigh sometimes i forget i don’t have to write so damn much

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> soft alhaitham (heart eyes pt2), anal fingering, anal sex, praise, not beta read

merry christmas and happy holidays!!

To say you were tired was an understatement—you were exhausted. Stressed. Angry. It felt like everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

First, you accidentally woke up late, was scolded by your teacher when you arrived and made the "perfect" example on what a scholar from the Akademiya should not be. Then you had to study for several hours for a few of your upcoming exams and evaluations—all while having to take some more tests the following week.

And as if that wasn't e-fucking-nough, you had done horribly on one of your essays so now you had to redo it for a better score, on top of needing to start yet another one regarding... Something. You forgot what the prompt was. Honestly, you forgot to do a lot of things. Like eat. Or drink water. Which was something that really didn't help to improve your mood.

You stumbled through the door trying to pry your uniform off, haphazardly tossing your hat to the side. You felt like shit and wanted nothing more than to flop on your bed and stay in there for the rest of your miserable life. But, like the universe was trying to give you the biggest middle finger ever, one of the loops on your clothes got caught on the corner of a counter. While you'd normally just take it off and go on your merry way, you weren't having it today and just yanked yourself forward, tearing the loop and the fabric it was connected to.

Finally making it to your room, you flopped on the bed face-first, muffling the loud groan that came from you. You stayed like that for a moment longer before turning your head, remembering to breathe deeply.

Two knocks came from the door. "You okay?" Your boyfriend, Alhaitham, asked, leaning against the frame as he stared at you.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself," you muttered bitterly, wincing at the accusatory tone in your voice. You sighed, deciding to face him. "Sorry."

He shrugged, walking to sit on the edge of your shared bed. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his expression unchanging even when he watched your brows furrow in irritation.

"It's just... Ugh," you grumbled, rolling your eyes childishly. "Just a bad week. It feels like everything's going against me." You rolled onto your back, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. "I don't think I can catch up."

"You're in the Akademiya," Alhaitham said, giving you a look that made it seem like he didn't know why you were complaining. "Obviously it's going to be hard for you."

"'For you,'" you repeated, glaring at nothing in particular, but it was getting increasingly evident that you were beginning to direct your anger towards him. "Of course you don't get it. You've been smart your whole life."

He was quiet for a moment, letting you try to calm yourself before speaking again. "Don't sell yourself short like that. It's unhealthy."

You huffed. "It's not selling myself short if it's actually true." You pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw faint fireworks coloring the darkness. "I have to redo an essay because apparently it didn't go with damn prompt. Then I have to do another one, and I don't even know where to start, and—" you listed off your problems, your voice getting higher in pitch until you were on the verge of shedding tears, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of work you accidentally accumulated.

"Hey," he interrupted you, leaning to place a hand on your thigh. "Calm down." He gave you an unimpressed look when you snapped your mouth open to retort, watching you begrudgingly close it in defeat. "Breathe. You're getting worked up over things you can change."

But when you could hardly focus on utilizing the breathing techniques he taught you, he decided to take a different approach. "Let's have sex, then."

"What? Why? 'Cause of the post-nut clarity?" You sighed, rubbing your temple to stave off the impending headache after staring at him incredulously. Damn. Sometimes you forget how straightforward he could be.

Alhaitham gave you a look. It was deadpan—because when was it not?—but you could still sense the slightest bit of confusion. "If that's how you want to word it, yes," he said, before elaborating. "Sex can also help you relax and improve your immune system."

He quickly looked you up and down, and despite not saying anything, you knew what he was trying to imply. You looked like a mess.

"It can also help improve your quality of sleep," he added, crossing his arms against his chest. "It has a few other benefits than just feeling good, you know." He watched you ponder his suggestion, chewing on your lip absentmindedly before giving in with a sigh.

"Fine. But you're doing all the work," you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.

"That was the plan." The corners of his lips quirked up in a brief, subtle smirk as he leaned to place his hands on your shoulders to gently push you back down. "Just relax."

He continued when you nodded, running his hands along your body, gently caressing every curve and contour of your frame. An eyebrow raised in question when he felt the torn patch in your clothes but decided against mentioning it as he guided you out of your suffocating uniform with practiced ease. Already, you seemed a bit calmer than earlier, giving yourself a well-deserved stretch that made you remind him of a cat.

You felt the tension beginning to seep out of your body with every article of clothing that was carelessly tossed to the floor, reaching your hands out to tug him closer. He obliged without hesitation, sighing in satisfaction when he melded his lips with yours. His hands slid below your underclothes, snaking them upwards until they found your chest. He tweaked and pinched your nipples as he moved his way downwards, placing kisses along your jawline and neck.

You softly moaned, brushing your fingers through his hair that had him leaning into your hand. He removed your shirt, trailing appreciative kisses down your sternum. A hand made its way down your front toward your pants, slipping a hand inside to wrap his fingers around your flaccid dick. Your breath hitched, instinctively widening your legs to give him better access, much to his pleasure.

He was gentle; his hands were soft and careful, and neither of you were in a rush. You felt your eyes flutter shut as your lips parted with every quiet gasp and sigh that left you, and he couldn't help but stare.

It annoyed him how little you thought of yourself when he could clearly see you as something more. Sure, it irked him how you complained about things that could easily be changed if you put your effort into it, but you were also right. He always had it academically easy and often found it hard to connect with others or understand their problems on a level that wasn't with you. He was well aware of this issue, knowing that it often hindered his ability to comfort, and—for the first time in how long?—it frustrated him.

Even if he had no idea how to properly soften his words around you or to consistently change his facial expressions, he always showed he cared by spending time with you, teaching you new things, or helping you understand foreign concepts. But even then, he was willing to try to tell you that you were more than what those pompous Akademiya professors reduced you to, that you were better than what you said you were.

"Look at me," he said, his voice soft and smooth, coaxing your pretty eyes open. He slipped his hands out of your shirt and cupped your cheeks tenderly, ensuring your focus on him. "It doesn't matter what everyone says about you when they don't understand that you have strengths that rest beyond the traditional Akademiya expectations."

"But that doesn't—"

He gave you yet another stern look, to which you quieted down with a huff. "It's okay to struggle. Everyone does at some point. Even those professors found something difficult before they became what they are. But you know what they did?"

He paused, gauging your reaction. He was aware that what he was saying probably didn't make you feel better or make the most sense, but he hoped that you could feel the sincerity in his voice. "They took a step back, took a deep breath, and figured out what they were doing wrong. They didn't do that overnight or by working themselves to the bone. That's what you need to acknowledge."

"But all my other colleagues are doing fine, and I'm the only one struggling..." You appreciated his words, truly, but they did little to quell your worries.

"Are you? How do you know that for sure?" He countered, sliding his hands down to caress your hips. He watched you pursed your lips, squirming slightly under his gaze. "Point is, you shouldn't try to compare yourself to everyone around you and overwork yourself because that only leads to bad work and a bigger hole for you to climb out of. You have everything else to be proud of—not just your academic qualities. Understand? Besides, you made it into the Akademiya. That's something very few people can do in the first place."

You looked away with a frown, but you nodded softly. Even though it sucked knowing that you weren't the best, he did have a point. Wallowing in your own failure did nothing to better yourself, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Thanks," you muttered, sniffling a little. His thumbs swiped underneath your eyes, clearing away any of the tears that happened to escape you.

"Don't let them define you. Define yourself," he said finally, leaning back down to kiss you again. It was soft, tender, unhurried, like he wanted you to feel every ounce of affection he harbored for you. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Do you still want to do this?"

You nodded again, giving him a quick peck to the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Mhm. I really need those benefits." Plus, you didn't favor being horny and sad.

Your lips curved in a smug grin when you saw his own quirk upwards in amusement, but he didn't comment on it. He sat up to tug your pants and underwear down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You shivered instinctively but kept your focus on him, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.

He leaned over to grab a bottle of lube from your nightstand, squeezing a generous amount on his fingers before pressing one into your hole. You sighed, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. He only offered a few pumps of his hand before adding a second one in, gently spreading them apart in a scissoring motion.

He wrapped his free hand around your cock, slowly jerking you off. He rubbed his thumb over the tip to smear the precum across your skin as wet sounds gradually filled the room. You noticed his eyes locked on your face and the expressions you wore, committing them to memory. He added a third finger for good measure, feeling you tense reflexively before relaxing just as fast.

"You're doing so good, [Name]," he praised, his voice low. He curled his fingers, pressing them against your prostate. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan, straining against the fabric. "I'm almost done. Then we can start."

You nodded, inhaling sharply through your nose when he began targeting the sensitive spot inside you. You could practically feel every surge of heat shoot up and down your spine, ending at your fingertips. Alhaitham could feel it too, every time your cock throbbed in his hold.

Your body felt warm and tingly when he moved both hands away from your body, wiping them off using a few tissues atop your nightstand. He grabbed the lube again and poured some on his palm to coat his cock, using his free hand to spread one of your thighs a bit wider. He peered up through his lashes, subtly raising an eyebrow in question. He continued as soon as you nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

You both let out a satisfied groan as he filled you, grasping onto his wrists as he held onto your hips.

"Fuck," he hissed, pushing further until he bottomed out completely. "You're such a good boy. You're taking me in so well." He perked up in attention when he felt you tighten at his words, noting how your eyes fluttered shut like you were savoring them. He wasn't overly aware of this newfound information, but maybe you had accidentally brought it to his attention now that you're stressed?

Either way, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to continue. “You feel so good, [Name]," he praised, leaning down to press his lips against the skin underneath your earlobe. You could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He let you take a moment to adjust to him before moving, gently thrusting his hips.

You noticed him moving away again as you opened your eyes, finding yourself enamored with the way his muscles flexed in every movement of his. Soft gasps and moans left your lips when you looked up, instantly noticing his gaze on you.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled shyly, squirming a bit. It wasn’t that you hated having him look at you—frankly, that’s all you longed for sometimes, it’s just that what you did hit you. Being as vulnerable as you were wasn’t something you preferred, even when Alhaitham didn’t berate you for it.

“You were staring at me, first,” he countered swiftly, and you could hear the rare undertone of his amusement in his voice. It was your favorite sound. “Besides, what’s the harm in looking at the most handsome man in Sumeru?” His monotony nearly made his words laughable, but you could see that he was genuinely trying. Knowing that sent butterflies in your stomach all over again.

You looked away, effectively flustered with all his attention. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Only because you make it embarrassing,” he said, sliding a hand upwards to toy with one of your nipples. He subtly shifted his hips, angling them so that his cock better pressed against your prostate. He watched you intently when you let out a throaty moan, feeling his dick throb inside you.

You reflexively clenched your thighs tighter against his hips, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. You snaked a hand down to your leaking cock, wrapping your fingers around the base to give it a squeeze. “You can go faster,” you muttered, looking down to watch the way he slid in and out of you.

He nodded with a quiet hum, adjusting his grip on your waist to shift the weight on his knees to sacrifice his slower, deeper thrusts for quick and shallow ones. Moaning, you jerked yourself off in time with his movements, unable to tear your gaze away from him, even for a moment. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you brought your free hand up to bring him closer to you by the back of his head. You kissed him needily and fervently, letting out noises that mixed in with the wet sounds that came from your hole. Your body rocked gently, listening intently to the rustling of your bedsheets and Alhaitham’s deep, husky breaths.

Suddenly, he lifted a hand up to place over your abdomen, lightly pushing down on it just as he buried himself balls deep inside you. He paused for a moment, sighing as he watched you squirm at the sudden stop before continuing, feeling himself move in and out of you. You could feel the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust to your prostate, back arching, legs tightening around his waist.

“Fuck, I’m…” you panted, clenching tighter around his cock. “I’m so close, ‘Haitham.”

“I know. I can feel you,” he said, gently moving your hand away from your leaking cock to wrap his fingers around it. Quiet slaps mixed in with your soft noises and his breathy grunts as he fucked you a bit harder, eyes fixated on the blissful expression on in your face. His dick throbbed inside you as he eagerly chased after his own orgasm, leaning down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing up towards your ear.

“C’mon, [Name], cum for me,” he whispered, sending yet another wave of heat shoot up and down your spine. You could hardly stop the stream of moans that spilled from your lips as he focused on the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb on the sensitive spot just below it, as if trying to coax out your cum.

“Oh god,” your voice was strained as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten to an unbearable degree, trying to hold out just a little longer. “F—Fuck! Alhaitham!” You moaned in ecstasy when you finally came, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. You tensed and trembled as your dick spurt cum on your stomach and his fingers as he helped you ride out your high.

“You’re so beautiful when you orgasm,” he groaned, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm as he neared his own climax. He dug his fingers into your waist tighter, muttering praises into your ear when you began squirming at the discomfort of your overstimulation. It didn’t take much longer for him to finish as he stilled, gritting his teeth when he quickly pulled out to stroke himself to completion. He sighed in satisfaction when his orgasm subsided, leaving your abdomen coated in ropes of his cum.

“Wh—Why did you pull out?” You panted, wiping a bead of sweat off of your forehead.

“Isn’t it annoying to clean up afterward? You're always complaining about it whenever we have sex,” he questioned after a moment, taking a second to bask in the afterglow before getting up to reach for a tissue to clean your skin. He put his pants back on, gathering your clothes to put them in a laundry basket.

You shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. But I’m gonna take a bath either way.” You blinked in confusion when you saw him quirk a brow, fidgeting a bit when he didn’t stop staring at you.

“No. You’re going to sit and wait here while I make you something to eat, first,” he instructed, leaving no room for negotiation. “Afterwards, you’re going to go to sleep. Then you can take a bath when you wake up.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled audibly, quickly reminding you that you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "But then I'm gonna be all sticky and gross when I eat," you said, knowing how much he disliked having dirty bedsheets for too long. It surprised you when he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to decide.

"If you want to take a bath first, then I'll help you," he offered. You swiftly nodded, wanting to eat clean and comfortably. He nodded and told you to wait for a moment as he prepared the water for you, leaving you by yourself for a while until he returned. The two of you walked into the bathroom where a bathtub of warm water awaited you. But just as you raised your leg to enter, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame you. Luckily, Alhaitham was there to keep you from falling with a firm hand on your arm, carefully helping you into the water.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes darting across your face for any sign of distress. He relaxed upon seeing nothing but waited for your response for further confirmation.

"Yeah. It's just something that happens when I get too hungry, y'know?" You explained sheepishly, splashing some of the water onto your arms and back.

"No, I don't know." He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. "I'll be right back, then."

You hummed to yourself, not minding his absence as you savored the warmth surrounding you, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You nearly fell asleep in the time it took for Alhaitham to return, jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," he spoke, returning to your side with a bowl in his hand. "Eat this for now."

He kneeled down, bringing the bowl close enough to let you reach in and take whatever was inside. They were fruits, you saw as you happily grabbed one, tossing it into your mouth. You had to stop yourself from grabbing a handful and eating it all in one go, forcing yourself to appreciate every bite. You noticed him shifting behind you, leaning forward instinctively when he began cleaning your back with a small, wet towel.

The two of you basked in the comforting silence for a while as you let him take care of you until you turned your head to face him. "I love you," you said with a little grin.

"I know," he replied, putting the bowl onto the floor.

"Say it back." You pouted, but you knew he was only teasing.

His mouth quirked up in a faint smile, leaning forward to give you a quick peck on your lips. "I love you too."

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lillyspeakz · 2 months ago

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please write me some smut headcanons with wilbur

a little about reader in this, she's more on the short side, so maybe you could write something about that

thank so much🧁⭐️

the first thing my mind went to was SIZE KINK!!!! This was a little self indulgent…. Maybe a lot.

warnings: size kink. Belly bulge ( wils packing), teasing, cocky mf, kissing, HANDS!, again think of c!wilbur! , choking kink

- when you and Wilbur start dating, it doesn’t cross his mind a lot of how much smaller you are than him. Yes he makes the little “oh look at the baby!” comments but other than that, doesn’t cross his mind. But when he first gets his hands on you, and he’s on top of you, he’s primal!

- if you have a chest, he loves your tits. Loves to just engulf the in his hands and hold them as he fucks into you.

- now- since your smaller, either way, wils gonna be a bit bigger to you. Height and dick size. But, when that man’s fully inside you, and he sees the imprint he immediately makes in your stomach, good luck. He will press his hand down hesitantly on the skin that is bulging out, but once he gets a little sound out of you and feel the stimulation it leaves on his member, he’s pressing down the whole time.

- will degrade and praise you for the size difference:

“So fucking small, want me to ruin you baby? Want me to ruin you like the little slut you are, all needy and drooling for this cock? That’s what I fucking thought.”

“Taking me so well darling… just a little more baby, I know. So big in you, doing so good baby. Let me take care of you baby.”

- the first time wil put his hand around your neck was purely by accident, not meaning to set his hand down on your neck and immediately apologize and asking if he hurt you. Yet all you did was smile at him and brought his hand back as you made his hand squeeze your neck. As he did, he reviled in the small moan that left your mouth as you smiled up at him. Let’s just say, his hand being round your throat was a go to.

- You loved holding his hands. They were so big and veiny and long. You played with his fingers, slowly starting to imagine them in-between your thighs, playing with you as you struggled to stay quiet. Or when he’d place his hand on your thigh and squeeze the body part as a stress ball, making your thighs squeeze together. He slowly started to notice your fascination, smirking as he placed his hands on your body or near you more often to tease you.

- he’s so cocky!!! He knows he’s big, knows the hold he has on you. Knows he can ruin you in 5 seconds with a touch, can make you go dumb on his cock just from one thrust. You have inflated his ego so much, yet neither of you are complaining. It comes in handy when he’s jealous.

- wil loves to bend down and kiss you, placing his hands on your hips while you stand on your tip toes, hands in his hair as his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the skin he could. He would eventually pick you up by your thighs and sit you guys down, again being unaware of how how big his hands were on your waist.

- When your giving him a blowjob, he makes you take small steps, not wanting to hurt your throat. Whenever you gag or make a face, he pulls you off checks in with you to make sure your ok. Again, he’s painfully aware of how big he is, and he doesn’t want to hurt you at all

- wil loves to cuddle you, loves to engulf you in his hold, especially after sex… makes it more special in his opinion.

#lilly writez.#lilly answerz.#ivee.#wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot smut #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months ago

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Napoleonville [Chapter 6: The House Of Salt And Scales]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, Evangelical Christians, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, (Mis)Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, blood, alligators, ANGST!!!

Word Count: 7.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

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

“Did you hear that Willis is single again?”

Ugh. “Yes, Mama. I heard. You told me already.” You linger in the doorway with a white bakery box in your hands: your mother’s favorite, grasshopper pie, straight out of the 1960s. She allegedly ate through two a week when she was pregnant with you. Cadi has already dashed inside and made herself at home; she’s probably jamming the movie she got from Blockbuster—Predator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Amir recommended it—into the VHS player. “You told me, Willis told me, all his deputies told me, Cadi told me, my mailman told me, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly told me, literally every resident of Napoleonville has informed me in no uncertain terms that Willis is single again. And I could not possibly care less.”

Your mother sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wounded and incredulous, like she’s just watched a 60 Minutes segments about a tsunami or a genocide. “I just don’t understand it. In my day, people married for life.”

You glance back longingly at your Chevy Celebrity. “Yeah. I know they did.”

“When your father, and God rest his soul, when he was young, he was a hellion,” your mother says, as if you don’t remember it, as if you weren’t there. “He’d get his paycheck every Friday and stay out all night with his buddies, sometimes he didn’t come home the whole weekend. I’d lay into him when he finally showed, I’d say, ‘Rene, how on earth am I supposed to put dinner on the table if I don’t have any fish in the icebox?!’ Once he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and I had to cover it up with a picture of President Eisenhower! And I never even thought about leaving. How could I have done that to you? Forcing you to grow up in a broken home? Mothers and fathers living apart, whoever heard of such a thing? It’s unnatural.”

You’re brainstorming recipes to distract yourself. Caramel pretzel cookies. Banana chiffon pie. Cheese Danish cupcakes with diced cherries and a hint of vanilla. “Everyone draws their own lines, Mama.”

“But it’s not just about you,” she implores, her eyes shimmering with sympathy she never had for other women. You remember what she said on the rare occasions you confided in her about your frustrations with Willis: Of course a man isn’t going to want you bothering him with your feelings when he’s had a hard day at work. Of course a man—after you’ve had his baby, after you almost died to do it—is going to be crossing off days on the calendar until you can have sex again. He keeps a roof over your head and he never hits you, what more could you ask for? “What about Cadi? What if she grows up thinking that her marriage vows don’t mean anything? It’s the foundation of society, marriage. If that goes, everything goes.”

It’s the foundation of a lot of coercion and unfairness and misery, that’s for sure. “I wouldn’t want Cadi to stay in a situation that makes her unhappy. Would you?”

Your mother throws her hands up, like you’ve told her you’re converting to communism and catching the next flight to the USSR. “Life isn’t just about happiness, sweetheart! It’s about commitment, it’s about responsibility! If everyone did what they wanted all the time, no one would stay married!”

“Maybe that speaks to the value of marriage as an institution.”

“And morality is already falling apart in this country,” your mother continues, ignoring you. That’s what she does when she can’t refute facts, logic, evidence. “Young people living together, women having babies with two or three different men, people doing drugs, people on Welfare, people shooting and stabbing each other, sex shops everywhere, naughty magazines at gas stations, men wanting to marry other men—”

“Okay, Mama. I really have to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll shut up. I will, I will, I swear.” She makes peace with a brisk kiss to your cheek like a stamp on an envelope. “Enjoy a nice quiet night to yourself. Do you have any plans?”

Well, Mama, I’m trying to resist the temptation to call my engaged dominant oil tycoon not-boyfriend and tell him to come over for kinky adulterous sex. “Not really. I’ll probably take a bubble bath and then watch something Cadi would think is boring, like 20/20.” You hand over the bakery box, and your mother’s face lights up.

“Grasshopper pie?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know it’s hard for me to make it myself anymore. This rheumatoid arthritis, it’s got me all twisted up.” She nods down to where her fingers grip the box, knobby and increasingly useless.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“I’ve got one in…oh…about three weeks, I think. I’d have to check my daybook. All the way over in New Orleans with some specialist that Dr. Cormier recommended.”

“Okay. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” It would be more than fine; she wants you to go, though she won’t say it. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t want to impose or doesn’t want to admit how reliant she’s becoming upon you, like growing up in reverse.

“Mawmaw!” Cadi shouts from inside the house. “Hurry up! I want to watch Predator!”

“You quit your hollering, I’ll be right there!” Then your mother looks to you and offers one last piece of very unsolicited advice. “Just be kind to Willis, alright? Give him a chance. I don’t think he’ll ever find a woman he likes as much as you. That’s what everyone says.”

“Mama, he has no idea who I am.” And he’s not interested either.

“Sure he does. You’re the mother of his child, and you always will be. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“I’ll think about it.” You definitely won’t. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“So long.” She shuffles into the house, and once she’s shut the door you hear her muffled voice: “Arcadia, come on over here and help me slice up this pie…”

You drive home with the windows down and blasting St. Elmo’s Fire. There’s still an hour or two of sunlight left; the world is painted in gold and blood orange, the soybeans, the sugarcane, the grass growing tall and wild, the Spanish moss swinging from the trees, the earth ripening as its revolution hurtles towards the apex of summer. Cadi is out of school until August. Amir will be announcing his looming departure to San Francisco. Aemond will be getting married.

The adolescent alligator that Aemond is so afraid of is in the far corner of the front yard, basking in the last of the daylight. You walk into your room, flop down on the bed, lie there staring longingly at the pink phone on your nightstand. You reach to pick it up, then stop yourself. Aemond hasn’t fucked you, hasn’t kissed you, has rarely touched you at all since you found out about Christabel. But he stops by your house and invites you to his; he stitches himself into your life like someone somewhere once sutured his face back together.

I can’t. It’s wrong. He’s engaged.

Aemond doesn’t know you’re home alone. It’s Friday, and usually Cadi would be here with you until tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s not really cheating until he’s married. I mean, if Aemond and Christabel aren’t sleeping together, if they almost never see each other…is it even a real relationship?

Wistful thinking, yes, denial, yes; but with each passing minute your resolve not to pick up the phone weakens.

We don’t have much longer until the wedding. Our time is slipping away.

He’s a robber baron. He’s arrogant, he’s delusional.

And I want him. I still do, and I can’t stop.

The phone rings. You sit up, startled. It’s not Aemond, you tell yourself so you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t him. But it is.

“Hi,” Aemond says; he sounds out of breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s okay, Cadi is actually having a sleepover with my mom. They’re watching Predator. My mom has no idea what it’s about, she’ll be clutching that Bible she got signed by Jerry Falwell a little extra hard tonight. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound random, but…you haven’t seen Aegon, have you? He hasn’t shown up at your house, he hasn’t called? You don’t know where he is?”

Aegon? Why would I know anything about what Aegon’s doing right now? “Um, no…?”

A long exhale, a lull that’s full of dread.

“Aemond, what’s going on?”

“He and my father got into it a few hours ago. They were screaming at each other, kicking furniture over, which isn’t all that unusual, honestly. But then Aegon ran away.”

“Wait, like, he’s gone…?”

“He stormed out the back door, went down to the lake, and then headed north into the trees. And I assumed he’d be back by now, but it’s getting dark and he’s not here. He never came home. His Porsche is still sitting in the driveway.” There is a pause. “I think he’s out there.”

“Out where?”

“In the woods,” Aemond says, shellshocked, terrified. “In the bayou.”

Your eyes dart to the window; the golden daylight is dwindling. “Aemond, he can’t be alone in the bayou. It’s dangerous. He could die. There aren’t just alligators, there are wild boars, cottonmouths, copperheads, snapping turtles, brown recluses, fire ants, I don’t think there are any black bears this far south but it’s always possible, he could drown, he could get trapped in quicksand, you cannot let Aegon spend the night out there.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You’re not used to hearing this in Aemond’s voice: the panic, the vulnerability. “No one else seems worried. They said he disappears all the time, and that’s true. They’re convinced he’s found his way to a strip club or a Waffle House or something and will drag himself home eventually. No one will listen to me. My father has forbidden me from getting anyone else involved. He doesn’t want gossip getting around town and overshadowing the new rig project or…you know. The wedding thing. My wedding. And I can go over his head, sure, I can make calls, but when investigators show up here to start searching my father is just going to tell them to leave. How is it even possible to find Aegon? At night in a fucking swamp? Is anyone going to be willing to go out there before morning? Do I need people with bloodhounds or a helicopter?”

No way, you think as soon as the idea hits you. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. “I can think of someone who knows their way around the bayou.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just after 7 p.m. when Willis arrives to pick you up: grinning smugly, mullet fluffed, Plymouth Gran Fury hauling his brand new 20-foot jon boat. He’s dressed for night fishing in boots, camo-colored waders, and a grey hoodie with SHERIFF printed across the front in black letters. You climb into the passenger seat wearing sneakers, denim shorts, and a blue raincoat over your Pepsi t-shirt. You haven’t been fishing since you were married to Willis, and you’ve never missed it. It’s a grisly business: hooks through lips, hooks through eyeballs, hooks swallowed and tangled up in some doomed creature’s guts.

Aemond is waiting at the mouth of the Targaryens’ driveway, just out of sight of the mansion they call The Last Desire. He gets in the back seat and sits there testily with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring out the window as an indistinct blur of primeval vegetation passes by outside. He has on his Marlboro jacket, light-wash jeans, and Adidas sneakers. You hope he doesn’t ruin them; although you suppose he can always buy more. He could buy a hundred more, a thousand more, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You can’t fathom what it’s like to live that way. It seems to conflict with all the laws of man and nature.

Aemond speaks grudgingly to Willis, a quick flat statement that invites no conversation. He didn’t call Willis to explain the situation, you did. You’re afraid to leave them alone with each other. You aren’t sure who would be more likely to end up a corpse decomposing in the muddy silt at the bottom of Lake Verret. “Thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

Willis chuckles warmly, either oblivious to Aemond’s prickliness or unbothered by it. “Bien sur! It’s my job, son. We’ll hunt your brother down.” Then he glances over at you, smirking, prying. “So, sugar…how’d you two make each other’s acquaintance?”

“Amir and I baked the cakes for his engagement party.”

“Engagement party, huh?” Willis looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “You gettin’ married?”

Aemond is still staring out the window. “Obviously.”

“So you ain’t single?”

“Legally, I am in fact single until the day the marriage license is signed.”

Willis returns his attention to you. “So he ain’t the petit ami you’ve been so secretive about.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Willis. I really can’t be more clear than that.”

“Oh, I know you got one. I know all your looks, sugar. Some days you come ‘round my office lookin’ lovesick, like you’re just a-floatin’ on a cloud. Other days you’re real mean, like you don’t want me takin’ none of your time, like you got somebody more important to spend it on. And then sometimes you just look…” He smiles, mischievous. “Well, how can I put it? Satisfied. The cat who ate the canary. And I recall exactly what that looks like on you. It’s been a while, sure. But I remember.”

From the back seat, Aemond sighs irritably. You say to Willis: “Can we please focus on finding Aegon?”

“Sois calme, sois calme. That’s why I’m here. We’ll be in the water in ten minutes.”

There is no more discussion; the only sound is the radio, Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. Willis turns onto a winding dirt road that leads to a boat launch about a mile from the Targaryens’ property. He spins his Plymouth Gran Fury around and backs it down the concrete ramp towards the rippling, slow-moving currents of Lake Verret. It’s difficult to see from the driver’s seat—most people would have someone get out to guide them—but Willis knows the way by heart. He’s been on boats since before he could walk; Willis’ daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy did too, all the way back to before the Louisiana Purchase. Your family are newer arrivals (relatively speaking), having only been in Napoleonville for about 100 years and keeping mostly to the town. You remember your 11th grade science teacher saying once that alligators have been around since before the dinosaurs went extinct. Maybe that’s what Willis is: a relic of a distant time and species, afflicted with a cunning ruggedness that won’t allow his kind to go extinct.

When the trailer is mostly underwater, Willis gets out of the car to unhook the straps that keep the boat moored to it. You go outside to help and Aemond follows, though he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never handled a boat this size and it shows; perhaps a yacht would be more his speed. He stands aside and watches, frowning, hands buried in the pockets of his Marlboro jacket. His lack of expertise riles him. He’s not used to being the incapable one. He hates not having control.

Willis already has a tow rope tied to a metal handle at the bow of the jon boat; he lifts it out and gives the free end to Aemond. “Hold onto that, will ya? Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies ungenerously. Willis returns to his Plymouth Gran Fury to finish backing the trailer into the lake until the boat floats. Standing on the shore together, you and Aemond stare at each other, unable to speak honestly, unable to decide what you’d say even if you could.

The jon boat bobs in the water, and you show Aemond how to pull it away from the trailer using the tow rope. Willis drives the trailer back onto dry land, parks his car in a flat area near the boat launch, and then joins you and Aemond by the water’s edge. He walks to where the boat is floating just to the right side of the concrete ramp and, with some difficulty, clambers inside as the boat rocks under his weight. Then he stands in the middle of it and gestures for you to approach. “Let’s get goin’, sugar.”

You take Willis’ hands when he reaches for you and let him help you into the jon boat. When you stumble over a bench seat, he steadies you with a hand on your waist, familiar but in no way erotic; not for you, at least. Still, from where he is standing on the lakeshore with the tow rope, Aemond glowers venomously.

“Your turn, son,” Willis calls to him, winking. “And I promise not to get too sweet with ya.”

But Aemond doesn’t need any assistance to board the vessel. He has long limbs, good balance, and an ironclad determination not to let Willis see him falter. Aemond sits at the bow of the boat. You claim a spot in the middle. Willis takes a seat at the stern, starts the outboard motor, and guides the boat into the treacherous swampland that lurks like a stalking animal at the edges of Lake Verret.

In the bayou, the water is sluggish, currentless, thick with vivid green salvinia and duckweed. Towering bald cypress trees grow out of the opaque depths and are adorned with greyish, anemic bundles of Spanish moss like spiderwebs. Mangrove trees with their myriad of semi-submerged roots are sanctuaries for catfish, turtles, baby alligators. Larger gators—as big as the female that lives in your yard, and some up to seven or eight feet—prowl with only their nostrils and ancient yellow eyes peeking out from under the water. Great blue herons tiptoe along the shallow shoreline and stab at fish that unknowingly flit between their long skeletal legs. Cicadas shriek in the trees so loudly they almost drown out the hum of the boat’s motor. When the last of the daylight vanishes, Willis tells Aemond to turn on the spotlight mounted to the bow, and the water becomes a soupy, greenish, primordial witch’s brew beneath its glow. Aemond lights a cigarette and puffs on it as he ponders this alien corner of the world that he’s found himself in.

Willis has a number of items stowed on the flat aluminum floor of the boat, you notice now: nets, paddles in case the motor fails, bottles of water, ropes, fishing poles, flashlights, hunting knives, a few sturdy wooden walking sticks. He’s wearing his sheriff’s pistol on a belt fastened over his waders. This makes you uneasy, though you can’t recall ever seeing him use it. It seems wrong to be able to end a life with so little effort.

“Aegon!” Aemond shouts from the bow, using a flashlight to look to the sides of the boat where the spotlight’s luminescence doesn’t shine so brightly. You grab your own flashlight to help him search. “Aegon! Where are you?!”

There’s something burning in your nose and throat as you lean over the side of the boat to peer into the shadowy wilderness. Salt, you realize, but that doesn’t make any sense. Lake Verret is a freshwater lake. You turn towards where Willis is steering the boat with the rumbling gas-powered motor. “Do you smell that?”

“Yup. Sure do.”

“But…how…?”

“One of the rigs mighta hit a salt dome while they were drillin’, I figure,” Willis says. “There’s been talk for years that we got salt domes under the lake. But that don’t stop these oil companies.” He stares meaningfully at Aemond. Aemond glances back, rather abashed. “And ya know what that means. If the water turns brackish, most of the fish’ll die. And who’s got to live with that for generations to come? Not the Targaryens or the Rockefellers, that’s for sure.”

Aemond resumes shouting for his wayward eldest brother. A dark snake, perhaps six feet long, slithers down the length of the boat through the murky water. “Aegon! Aegon!”

“What did he and Viserys argue about?” you ask.

Aemond is cagy. “It’s…kind of personal.”

“Personal like he got a stripper pregnant or personal like he murdered someone in a drunken hit-and-run?”

“Neither. But closer to the first option.” Then he roars into the darkness: “Aegon!”

“Maybe the bon a rien already found his way back home,” Willis says. “Maybe—”

And then there is an echo through the bayou, faint but vaguely human, a ghost, a phantom. “Aegon!” Aemond shouts back. “Where are you?!” Willis cuts the boat engine so you can hear the reply.

Faintly, very faintly, his disembodied voice drifts out of the trees. “Over here! Help me! Quickly! Seriously, really really quickly!!”

“Keep talking!” Aemond yells. Willis is listening intently, trying to pinpoint a direction. His thick, dark eyebrows are knit together in concentration that is rare for him.

Barely audible over the screams of the cicadas: “What the fuck am I supposed to say?! Just get over here and save me!”

“We’re trying to figure out where your voice is coming from, so don’t stop talking!”

“Help me! Come help me!! Right now!! My arms are getting tired!!”

“What? What are you doing with your arms?!”

“I got him,” Willis says. He restarts the motor and steers the boat down a narrow corridor of the swamp. The path is only about ten yards wide and bordered by mangrove trees with nests of exposed, labyrinthian roots. The water is probably relatively shallow: five feet, ten feet, just deep enough for secrets. The breeze is cool and wet, almost chilly. On the shore, you spy a snapping turtle the size of a golden retriever. Its long prehistoric claws are coated with mud and green blades of marsh grass. It ogles you as if to say: What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. This is where the dinosaurs that survived the asteroid live.

“Aegon?” Aemond calls.

“Here! Over here! I can see you, I see the lights! Oh my God, I’m not gonna die! Thank you Jesus!”

Aemond laughs in relief. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Shut up and save me, you muppet!”

And then you see Aegon—the spotlight hits him, he is illuminated in a stark white glow—and your stomach plummets, your blood goes cold. In an alcove of the bayou, right where the water meets the shore, Aegon is up in a bald cypress tree. He’s about five feet off the ground and standing on top of a branch just thick enough to hold his weight. It’s too narrow to balance comfortably on; he is hugging the trunk to ensure he doesn’t fall, and a fall would be catastrophic. Sprawled on the muck surrounding the base of the tree are a plethora of alligators, all approximately ten feet in length. That’s big enough to be lethal humans. That would be big enough to kill a bear, a horse, a shark. When the spotlight shines on them, the gators begin to squirm and hiss, glaring with soulless reptilian wrath at the boat. Willis shuts off the motor, and the boat bobs placidly.

“Oh, fuck,” Aemond says.

“Yeah, exactly!” Aegon pitches back. He’s wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny turquoise blue shorts. He is barefoot. “So what’s the plan?! By the way, hey, cake lady.”

“Hi, Aegon.”

Aemond says: “How the hell did you get up there?”

“I was pissed off about the dad thing and I was walking for a long time, then I realized I was probably in the wrong neighborhood for someone with two legs and no desire to get eaten. I tried to find my way back but then these pig-looking things started chasing me and I freaked out and climbed up here to hide until they left. But as the sun went down, alligators started showing up. And the more time went by, the more alligators there were. And that’s the whole story, can you get me down now?!”

Aemond asks Willis, petrified: “How do we get him down?”

Willis surveys the scene for a moment, thinking. “Alright. Here’s what I reckon. We can toss him one end of a rope and he can tie it to the branch above him, right at the base where it’s real thick. Then we’ll hold the other end of the rope, and he can kinda shimmy on down it into the boat.”

Aegon says: “But what if right before I get to the boat, when I’m like four feet above the water, an alligator jumps out and bites me?”

“They don’t usually do that,” Willis replies.

“Usually?!”

“Look, we don’t have a lot of options,” Aemond tells his brother. “We can do the rope plan now, or we can leave you here, backtrack all the way to the boat launch, get the car, get some help, and hope they magically have a better solution for you. Or you can wait up there until morning to see if the alligators leave. You pick.”

“Isn’t that the hick sheriff guy? Can’t he shoot them?”

“Gators got brains ‘bout the size of a walnut, son,” Willis says. “And if I don’t hit ‘em where it counts, I’m just gonna make them angrier. That ain’t good for any of us.”

“Okay,” Aegon concedes. “Throw me a rope.”

Willis grabs one from the bottom of the jon boat, hands an end to Aemond, and tosses the other to Aegon. It takes the eldest Targaryen boy four attempts to catch it; the rope keeps falling and smacking the hissing alligators in the face before Willis lugs it back to the boat to try again. Once he finally obtains the rope, Aegon knots it—double, triple, quadruple—around where the branch above him, just barely within reach if he stretches as far as he can, meets the massive trunk of the bald cypress tree. Willis tells Aemond: “Now ya gotta hold the rope real tight. No slack at all, or it’ll dip and he’ll end up in a gator’s lap.”

“Yeah, Aemond!” Aegon says, his voice shaky. “No slack!”

“Got it.” Aemond loops his end of the rope around his waist, makes a knot, and then grips it with both hands and tugs it until it forms a straight diagonal line from the tree to the boat.

“Ya sure you wanna do that?” Willia says softly, nodding to Aemond’s waist. “If somethin’ goes wrong and he ends up in the water, you’ll be goin’ in with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alrighty.” Willis grabs one of the heavy wooden walking sticks from the aluminum floor of the boat. “If a gator tries to cause a problem, I’ll whack ‘em good. Don’t let ‘em get their jaws ‘round ya, not an arm or a leg or nothin’. If they get ahold of ya, they’ll roll and rip your bones right outta the sockets.”

“Awesome,” Aegon says from the tree. “I’m so glad you told me that. Yeah. Great. Any more super helpful alligator trivia, Sasquatch?”

“Yes sir. If one chomps down on ya, poke it in the eye with your fingers. A whack to the snout or a poke to the eye is the best way outta a gator’s mouth.”

Aegon gulps and clutches the rope, steeling himself.

“What should I do?” you ask Willis. “Should I get a stick too—?”

“Nothin’. You don’t do nothin’. You just sit down right in the middle and keep the boat steady. And if your petit ami starts goin’ overboard, maybe try to snatch him. But don’t ya fall in. Ya don’t want to be in that water. If there are gators above the water, there are gators below too. I guarantee it.”

You sit in the precise middle of the boat, using your weight to reinforce the vessel’s center of gravity as Aemond and Willis stand at opposing ends. Right before Aegon begins his descent, Aemond snags your attention. He makes a motion with one hand, a slicing, a prohibition. Don’t do anything insane, he means. Don’t risk trying to drag me back into the boat if I start going over.

“Whenever ya ready, bon a rien,” Willis says. And no one else but you knows that what he’s calling Aegon is a good-for-nothing.

Aegon begins scurrying down the length of the rope, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the bobbing jon boat. He passes above the hissing gators congregating at the base of the bald cypress tree and then over the water, where there are ripples that multiply out from epicenters and flashes of movement just beneath the surface but no homicidal alligator activity. When Aegon nears the boat, Willis seizes him and helps him into it; and then Aegon ruptures into hysterical giggles.

“I almost died, can you believe that?” he asks Aemond, who is untying the rope from his waist and beaming, the first real smile you’ve seen from him tonight. “Because I ran away from Viserys?! What an idiotic way to go. I’ll never let that bastard convince me to off myself. I gotta outlive him. I gotta do Jello shots on that motherfucker’s grave someday.”

“Yeah, you do,” Aemond agrees, squeezing Aegon’s shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Willis grumbles. He’s using his walking stick to jab at the water near the rear of the boat. “We’re hooked on a mangrove root or something.”

“Do you need help?” Aemond asks, headed towards him.

“Yes sir, if you’d be so kind. I don’t…I can’t see…what the hell is it stuck to?”

“The motor…? The blades of the motor?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re right. Yup. There it is. We musta drifted into it while we were preoccupied. Okay, we gotta push the boat off the root and then we can get movin’ again. Grab a stick, let’s start pushin’.”

“Should I get a stick too?” Aegon says, joining them. “I can hit stuff with sticks. I really want to get out of here…”

There’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the boat as the men try to propel it away from the mangrove tree. Willis is complaining that the water is too deep to touch the bottom with his stick. Aemond’s stick keeps slipping off the mangrove roots when he tries to get leverage. You aren’t sure what Aegon is contributing, if anything. The boat has begun to rock.

You look to the tree where Aegon had been imprisoned. The alligators are fully awake now; they are headed into the water and disappearing there, unseen, unheard, and yet all around you.

“I think we need to go now,” you say, but no one is listening to you. They’re still wrestling with the mangrove root. You rise, taking a few steps to the left to offset the boat’s listing towards the right. “Guys, we need to—”

The boat is freed from its organic jailor and lurches sharply towards the left. As the men cheer triumphantly—completely unaware of what’s happening—you are jolted off your feet and tumble backwards over the side of the boat.

The shock of hitting the water stuns you. It is cold and impossibly dark; when you open your eyes to try to find the surface, the boat, you can’t see anything. You paddle blindly. Something brushes your leg, and you scream bubbles of mute terror. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you are picturing those ten-foot gators slinking into the water that you’re now thrashing wildly through. You swim towards what you think is the surface and strike unyielding metal—the underbelly of the boat—hard enough to put stars in your skull like the flashes of lightning bugs. You get turned around and don’t know where you are again. Something glides past your arm, and you gasp before remembering that there’s no air. Dark water—salt and silt and decomposition—surges into your lungs, your stomach, sinking you like an anchor from within. There is a whirlpool of motion around you and muffled shouting. Then something closes around your wrist.

The eyes! you think frantically. I have to poke out its eyes!

But the vice around your flesh has no teeth. It’s not a reptilian jaw, you realize now, but a human hand. It leads you and you obey.

When you break the surface, you cough bayou water from your throat and blink it out of your eyes. Willis is leaning over the side of the boat and stabbing at gators with his stick, shrieking at them in French. One lunges at him from the water, jaws snapping. Willis whips the pistol off his belt, aims it squarely between the creature’s eyes, and fires. The boom is deafening; the bleeding gator sinks into the water. Aegon is kneeling in the boat and offering his arms to help you climb up.

You look beside you. Aemond is barely keeping his head above water. “Go!” he orders you. “Get in the boat!”

With Aegon’s help, you heave yourself over the side and collapse to the aluminum floor, lungs aching, skull pounding, heart thudding mercilessly, soaked to the skin. Then you force yourself to your hands and knees to see where Aemond is.

“Aemond?!” Aegon is yelling. “Aemond, where are you?!”

He’s gone; you don’t see him in the water. You try to scream for him too, but the water still in your throat strangles you. Your hands close around the edge of the boat, and Willis grabs your raincoat to yank you backwards. “Other side!” says, pointing. “We’re gonna capsize, we need weight on the other side, go there!”

You scramble to the opposite end of the boat, sobbing now, still hacking up muddy water. Where’s Aemond?? Where is he??

Both Willis and Aegon are grasping for something. They’re shouting and stabbing into the water with their walking sticks. And then they’re hauling him into the boat: Aemond, blood pouring down the left side of his face, a gash by his temple, another on his forehead; something bit him or clawed him. He’s wearing only his jeans and a white tank top; he ripped off his Marlboro jacket before diving in after you. You don’t see his Adidas sneakers anywhere. They must have been kicked off in the water. His glass eye has been knocked out and lost in the muck. What’s left in its place is a void, gaping, pink; it’s difficult to look at, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. It has the visceral, gory quality of organs never meant to be seen. His fingertips go to the socket to feel for his prosthetic. When he confirms it isn’t there, he covers his face with his hands and moans.

He saved me. He jumped in after me.

You crawl to him. “Aemond—”

“No!” He pushes you away, and you see that there’s blood and ancient silt from the bayou in his empty eye socket. It will have to be cleaned out. Willis watches, astonished, bewildered. For once, he is at a loss for words.

“Aemond, please…” You’d do anything to help him. You don’t know how to help him.

He saved me.

Aegon reaches for Aemond. “Hey, hey. It’s not that bad. Hey…” He drops to his knees, presses his forehead against Aemond’s, stains himself with his brother’s blood. And when Aemond tries to pull away, Aegon doesn’t let him; he’s got his fingers tangled in Aemond’s wet hair. “Thank you for saving me. I’m always almost getting myself killed and you’re always saving me. What would I do without you, huh? None of us would be okay without you. Thank you, Aemond. You hear me? You’re not gonna get this again anytime soon, so listen up. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’m just so—”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m like this.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll order a new one.”

“You know what he’s going to say.”

“Fuck him. Why do you care what he thinks? Because you think he’s the one who gets to decide what you’re worth? He isn’t. He’s not qualified.”

Aemond nods, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced. He still doesn’t look at you. He turns so the left side of his face—bloodied, eyeless—is angled towards the water and out of your view. Willis goes to the motor, starts it, and begins guiding the boat back towards the launch where he parked his Plymouth Gran Fury.

Aegon glances over at you. “You okay, cake lady?”

“Yeah.” But your voice shakes. The rest of you is shaking too; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can feel that you’re shivering in your wet clothes.

“Put it on,” Aemond says softly, and at first you don’t understand. Then you see that he’s pointing to his Marlboro jacket, left hurriedly flung on the floor of the boat. You unzip your dripping raincoat and don Aemond’s Marlboro jacket instead. It smells like him: smoke, cologne, effort, secrets.

“Thank you,” you tell him, wanting to say more. Aemond doesn’t answer. He stares into the murky water, greenish under the glare of the spotlight, and says nothing to anyone all the way back to the boat launch. Wordlessly, he helps Willis re-hitch the jon boat to the trailer. He remembers the steps. He’s a fast learner. The blood on his face is drying; his right eye won’t allow itself to look at you. The only sound on the drive to the Targaryens’ mansion is the radio of the Plymouth Gran Fury, which Willis turns up to cover the silence: In A Big Country.

At the end of the cobblestone driveway, lights are on in the vast house called The Last Desire. Everyone gets out of the car. Willis shakes a rather puzzled Aegon’s hand, then turns to Aemond, who ignores him. Willis chuckles, more curious than offended.

“So ya are the man who’s been givin’ her that satisfied look. I knew it. Yes, I knew what I saw. What’s your secret, son? Ya must really know your way around a woman if ya got her so mad about ya with a face like that. Ya look like the Rougarou got ahold of ya—”

Aemond grabs Willis by his hoodie, yanks him off his feet, jacks him up against the side of the sheriff’s vehicle. Immediately, you and Aegon are shouting and trying to break them apart.

You plead: “Aemond, don’t!”

“Aemond, he’s got a gun!” Aegon screeches.

Fortunately, Willis isn’t grappling for his pistol. He holds both palms in the air, open and empty, like he’s surrendering; but there’s still a smile on his face. Aemond doesn’t act like he’s heard anyone. He leans in close to Willis, his voice low and dark and snarling, his sole blue eye glinting. “You had so much in your filthy fucking hands and you just threw it away.” Then he slams Willis against the car one more time, tears away from him, and strides up the porch steps and into the house.

Aegon hurries after him, casting you a quick glance and a beckoning wave. It’s an invitation. You coming? Aegon mouths, and then vanishes inside.

Willis peers up at the house: stained glass windows, immense white columns. You don’t see any signs of Vhagar the Great Dane. Willis speaks calmly and without looking at you. “I think he’s in love with you, sugar.”

Improbable. Impossible. If he was, he couldn’t marry someone else. “He’s not.”

Now Willis’ eyes flick to you. “All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve been fishin’ on that lake since as long as I can remember, day, night, sun, storms, and nothin’ on earth would have gotten me to jump into that water. Not even Heather Locklear herself.”

“Just go, Willis,” you say, exhausted, heartsick. “Thank you for what you did tonight. But please go now.”

“How ya gonna get home?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of that, I am incapable,” Willis drawls. Then he climbs into his Plymouth Gran Fury and is gone. You sprint up the porch steps in your soggy sneakers, searching for Aemond.

In the white-and-gold foyer, Viserys is just arriving. He struts across the marble floor until he is close enough to his two oldest sons to embrace them, to hit them, to extract their teeth with his knuckles. The others pour through the doorways—Alicent, Criston, Helaena, Daeron, Otto—but while they gape in horror and fascination, they don’t speak in anything more than murmurs amongst themselves. Viserys steals only a glimpse of Aegon, swift and disinterested, then examines Aemond: wet clothes, no shoes, grime and blood, dazed fury. When his cool, pale gaze reaches Aemond’s empty eye socket, Viserys flinches and looks away.

“So you lost another prosthetic,” is all he says. His face twists into a grimace. And you expect Aemond to do something, to jab back, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen, he’s paralyzed. His right eye is misty. He’s biting his lips so they don’t tremble. And suddenly you hate Viserys Targaryen, you hate him more than you can imagine hating anyone. You think that you could watch his entrails unspooled from his body without feeling a thing. The Targaryen family patriarch hasn’t spoken to you; you don’t register to him at all. You might as well be an oriental vase or a house plant.

“You’re the one who did it, Viserys,” Aegon says, stepping in front of Aemond seething and sharp like a blade. “You remember that part? I do. I remember. The North Sea, 1968. I remember him trotting around after you, always so desperate to prove himself, always doing anything you asked, anything you could dream up, worshipping you like you were God. And where were you when he was getting his eye socket debrided at Moorfields Hospital? In fact, where were you when he got his hands caught in a winch when he was eleven? Where were you when he fell off a pipe deck and broke six ribs because one of your idiot employees forgot to close a safety gate and he couldn’t see it? Where were you then? Where are you now?”

Viserys scowls down at him—revolted, repelled—but he doesn’t reply. He feels no instinct to defend himself. He is unable to internalize shame; it rolls off him like raindrops.

“You’d love me so much if I was dead,” Aegon says, grinning, baring his teeth like an animal. “How sick is that? You can love bones in a box, but not someone standing right in front of you. You love Aemma, a ghost. You love Baelon, and you never even knew him. You’ve got nothing for me. That’s fine, I don’t care, I’ll be alright without you.” He points to Aemond. “But you’ve got nothing for him either, and he’s everything you always wanted. You’re disgusting, you’re broken. You belong in a box too. The part of you that was human is gone. I don’t give a fuck about what’s left.”

Aegon shoves Viserys, hard, and then storms past him. As he crosses into the kitchen, Helaena grabs for his wrist. You can hear her whisper: “What the hell happened?!”

Then Aegon remembers one last thing. He whirls around and bellows at Viserys, his voice reverberating off the vaulted ceilings: “And I’m not getting my vasectomy reversed! You can’t make me! It’s bioethics! I asked the lawyer!” He stomps off and disappears, Helaena in tow.

Alicent shoots Viserys a hateful glare and then flees from the foyer, her long auburn ringlets streaming out behind her. Viserys goes in the opposite direction. Daeron and Otto share an awkward glance and then depart as well. Only you, Criston, and Aemond remain in the room, surrounded by treasures that might as well be handfuls of earth, flour, swamp water, salt.

Cautiously, Criston lays a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, on his right side where he can see it. “Aemond…”

“Don’t touch me,” Aemond says as he wrenches away. He leaves like a hurricane, like a flood, receding until there remains only wreckage and memory.

Criston sighs deeply, and then he asks you: “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t respond. You haven’t decided how to yet. You stare at the place where Aemond stood, a void like a star that died out. Do I follow him upstairs? you think.

Do I?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond

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mera-mera-simp · 1 year ago

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Op Characters Love Languages Pt.2 <3

Featuring: Mihawk, Iceburg, Marco, Shanks

Content: headcanons, fluff, GN! Reader

Pt. 1

Mihawk:

Acts of service, words of affirmation and slight physical touch

This man goes over the moon for you

He loves you with his whole heart so of course he will

He'll cook for the most part (malewife fr) or help you if you've already started

He likes to whisper sweet nothings to you when you guys are just enjoying each other's company. Or he'll just tell you romantic things out of left field. You never see it coming.

He likes holding you honestly. It's never over the top with his physical touch though, in public at least. The most PDA he gives in public is holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist.

But when you guys are away from prying eyes, he actively holds you in his arms and presses small kisses to your neck.

His love languages go both ways with giving and receiving honestly.

Wrap your arms around him and kiss him softly, and congratulations. You've made the world's greatest swordsman melt into your arms.

For the most part, he's a pretty stoic man, but you get him so smile every time you tell or show him that you love him.

Deep down, he's honestly a big softie <3 (I'm so down bad for this goth man, Dracule Mihawk my beloved)

Iceburg:

Quality time and physical touch

This man is honestly the biggest lovebug there is in Water7 tbh

He gets so happy anytime he sees you (and you know for a fact he's brushing his responsibilities as mayor to the side to spend time with you)

He loves having an arm wrapped around your waist when you two stroll through the city

He'll make sure that you're safe whenever you guys visit the shipyard

And while he would absolutely adore to constantly brush off his work so he could spend time with you, he is the mayor. He'll just want you to hang out with him while he does some paperwork.

If it's late at night and he's still lost in his work, simply just come up behind him and drap your arms over his shoulders, he will instantly fall into your touch.

He gets so stressed and tense sometimes. Please remind him to take a break</3

Pepper his head and face with kisses.

Please just give him endless affection. He'll grumble about you trying to distract him, but there's no bite to it.

Remind him that you love him every once in a while. It's not that he forgets. He just likes to hear it sometimes.

Marco:

Another physical touch and quality time guy

Bro is quite literally always by your side, he loves you so much

He always has his hands on you, too. Look away for one second, and there is the bird man with an arm around your waist

Clingy mf <3

You're constantly getting head kisses from his man

Honestly, he just likes kissing you. He doesn't even care if the crew is around

Spend time with him. He doesn't really care what he's doing. He likes having you by his side

He'll most definitely ask you to chill with him while he's patching Ace up from one of his ADHD ideas.

Or just take a nap with our beloved pineapple head <3

Either way, Marco is very obvious with his love languages

Please hold the bird man in your arms while he sleeps. He will he extremely happy

You'll get a sweet kiss when he wakes up

Shanks:

Okay say it with me; physical touch

This mf seriously can't keep his hands to himself

And he has absolutely no shame about it either

You can casually be chatting with some of the crew, and he will come up out of nowhere and pull you against him

He does not care that you were mid conversation with Benn. He wanted attention then and there.

Good luck trying to pull away from him. Man may only have one arm, but that grip is like steel

You're stuck <3

He'll see the pout on your face and immediately kiss and tease you

"Awe babe come on, I'm not doing anything!"

Cheeky motherfucker

He'll be ecstatic if you return the same energy

Run up and give him a big hug. He'll instantly return it

He will kiss your face all over and hold you tightly in his arm

He is another lovebug who isn't afraid to show it

He loves you so much and he is dramatic af about it

But that's why we love him<3

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #iceburg #iceburg x reader #one piece iceburg #marco the phoenix #one piece marco #marco the phoenix x reader #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #one piece headcanons

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solplease · 11 days ago

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i've been very excited to post this but here are my ocs haha!! meet lune, cecilia, nox, and aster!

close ups, more info, and a more detailed relationship chart under the cut! this is gonna be a long post haha. there's also some more info about rowan!

cecilia's twin (he's the older twin) ((by two minutes. lol))

the type to go “here to here, i’ll buy it all”

he's got a temper

possessive, devoted, and jealous yandere

people think he's a tad bit insane (and he's self aware mostly,,)

gets into fights often

“want me to kill that guy for you?” (he’s serious btw)

he’s not nice lmao, but to you he is (in his own special way of course..!)

kind of like a cat who will proudly leave dead rats and leaves on your doorstep as a gift bc it thinks you can’t hunt for yourself

hates nox LMFAO

difficult to approach at first but once you get close he won’t ever let you go.

extroverted

LOUD. someone shut him up, this mf does NOT stop yapping bro

annoying as hell and he doesn’t know that lmao

if he absolutely has to, he’ll behave. but it's... odd

constantly needs to be doing something or he’ll get bored lol

has a bit of a sweet tooth (typical)

Bastard (not literally)

played the piano when he was younger with his sister, but he hated playing it

bad terms with his family except for cecilia

huge rebellious streak

shockingly will not kidnap you! everyone already knows you’re his, and he’s yours. and he won’t let anyone get in between you two. yay..!

hates it when you don’t pay attention to him (will absolutely start sulking too)

he’s impulsive but he’s not completely reckless

you probs shouldn’t trust him too much though he has good (????) intentions lol

seems silly (debatable really) but he’s dangerous.

half of the things he says sound like jokes but trust me, he means it. he’d do anything and everything for you, don’t forget!

shockingly pouty and whiny, only in front of you though

him and cecilia have matching bracelets from when they were younger which they both wear to this day

he’s oblivious as fuck, and an idiot

lune's twin (she's younger)

normal (somewhat) ((not really))

sweet and friendly

really likes giving gifts to people she cares about

jumps to conclusion and freaks out easily, but she’s subtle about it

constantly stressed (lune is her brother, so… i get it)

introverted (runs on a social battery)

says things without thinking sometimes

people pleaser

awkward as hell tbh, but it’s really not obvious because she’s good at putting on a front

kinda has the ”””””princely””””” persona (i didnt know how to describe that better lmao

has abandonment issues

girlfail tbh

hardworking

shes really protective of her loved ones

likes cute things

has issues with her family but still talks to them (lune does NOT)

on really good terms with lune, they’re very close (even though he’s a huge troublemaker that stresses the shit out of her) ((if he fucks around too much she’ll give him a good smack))

packs a good punch

SENSITIVE…

potential yandere? still not too sure if i’ll make her a fully fledged yan but she def has some of the traits lol

her and lune have matching bracelets from when they were younger! (she wears it everyday!)

she doesn’t mean to put on a front it just kinda happens automatically lmao

could kill someone... probably wouldnt tho

used to play the piano with lune, she still plays it now too (as a hobby)

cunning and annoying

def the type to kidnap you

oddly sweet (???)

but also ominous as hell

docile with the one he loves

isolating and manipulative yandere

dislikes lune

nice but you can tell he’s putting up a wall (with strangers and friends)

introverted

wouldn’t put stalking past him tbh

he’s the type that wants to know everything about you.

he has a tough time interacting with others. he feels awkward in social situations

the type to go to a party and spend the whole time petting the cat in the corner (he would not go to the party in the first place tho lmao)

he’s not misunderstood tho, he just can’t socialize and doesn’t really want to

grabs the end of your shirt in an awkward situation (its kinda cute)

takes time to open up, but when he falls for you, his love is so strong, it’s almost overwhelming. so just accept him, alright?

shittiest sleep schedule known to man, like srsly, what is bro doing

this man’s brain probs short circuits every 5 minutes LMFAO go to bed you idiot

really good with his words, very convincing

loves cats

hidden piercings

careful and patient

is really good at taking care of others (but he would only wanna take care of you) you’ll let him, won’t you?

startles easily lol

elf oc

ditzy and kind (to you)

bit of a mean streak (not to you!)

wants to appear princely in front of you

kinda stupid (a farce but not completely lol)

has a bit of a temper, but nothing too bad

clingy and cunning yandere

two faced

struggles with empathy (he tries, he’s not human, what’s he supposed to do!)

extroverted (?)

he’s really lonely

when he met you for the first time he was absolutely fascinated as he’s never interacted with a human being before!

BLUNT. he’s not used to convos… just give him some time!

at first it was simple curiosity, but that curiosity turned into something… deeper

he was completely alone before this, but now you’re here, and you’re going to stay, right?

is obsessed with the idea of you staying here with him forever, so why do you keep talking about going home? can’t you stay here?

but then you bring up the idea of him coming with you, well why didn’t you say that earlier! he's happy to come with you

It takes him some time to grasp certain concepts so please be patient with him, he’s not used to humans

he’s paranoid and hostile to other humans. it’s not fair, he wants all of your attention, so why is everyone trying to take you from him? he doesn’t like that everyone is getting in his way…

he’s terrified of bugs. will scream incredibly loudly if he sees one lol

he pulled you through a mirror, that’s how you ended up in his land

so if you wanna go back, just ask and he’ll take you!

gives you jewelry, expensive jewelry. (maybe he’s slipped on a ring before. haha. jk… unless..?)

prefers to stay inside your place because he really doesn’t like people who aren’t you lmao

don’t stray too far from him, okay? he’s always waiting for you

rowan (who i don't have a new drawing of rn </3 sorry!):

he absolutely hates not being a priority, so please don’t ignore him. please? he just wants you to love him.

clingy, devoted, and obsessive yandere

if you don’t reciprocate he might (unknowingly) try to guilt you into liking him back. will appear like a kicked puppy to really sell it (but it’s not an act lol he’s just like this)

at least his intentions are pure! (?????????) but is that better..?

if when (it will happen) you two end up together, he’ll give you the world if you’d asked for it

used to cut his own hair! :D (not great at it tho tbh)

very attentive and will work hard to keep you happy! just don’t forget that you’ll love only each other for the rest of your life. please don’t leave.

has tripped over nothing, will definitely happen again

here's the shitty relationship chart that i rushed </3 its very ugly im sorry HAHA

i really want to clarify that NONE of them will ever hurt you physically on purpose (they might have to pay up for emotional damages tho. they have your best interest in mind ig)

also i would say that they all share some traits like being clingy, devoted, possessive, obsessive, jealous, protective, and loyal. but if i specifically wrote it, it's probs just a bit more intense... just a bit,,, haha...

#num draws #oh hell yeah new tag time #lune posting #cecilia posting #nox posting #aster posting #rowan posting #technically lmao #yanderes #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere male #not tagging female yandere just yet </3 #oc art #digital art #yandere #original character #i've been really excited to post this #i mean i know it might not get a huge response #but i really wanted to introduce them #and i do hope you like them!#i'm really bad at writing characters too so please be patient with me and hopefully i'll soon improve :]#if you have any questions about them at all PLEASE don't hesitate to ask #i would love to answer any questions!#i'm also nervous to be posting this haha... but its OKAY. im doing it #also i overused the SHIT out of the coloured text #ive never done it before i think i deserved to do it at least once HAHA #sorry that its super long btw </3 #i might do actual profiles at some point too if anyone is interested :]#realized i accidentally added aster’s info twice 😭

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zootopiathingz · 9 months ago

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Genuine question: Why do you ship Radiobelle? I've seen a lot of people doing it, and I'm curious as to what the appeal is!

The real question is, why do people ship anything? Why do we all see two or sometimes more characters interact with each other and imagine how cool it would be if they both had deep-seated romantic feelings for the other?

Answer: cuz we can!😌

Idk about the rest of you, but I don’t exactly have much control over what I ship and don’t ship😅 I just see the characters together and my brain randomly decides either “yes I want them to make out” or “nooo I don’t really see it”

But as for Radiobelle specifically, there’s just something about them that my silly fangirl heart can’t resist. While I am fairly new to the HH fandom, I did watch the pilot around the time it came out and a small part of me did ship them back then. But I never really allowed myself to indulge in it and I just wasn’t that into the show anyway so I didn’t bother. Now, after actually watching the episodes and engaging in fandom content, I finally embraced the cringe to the full extent and let myself be consumed by the radio demon and his charming demon belle! :P

Now I’m aware that the majority of people don’t like Radiobelle, or even full-on hate it for multiple reasons. Sure, whatever. You don’t have to like every ship, nor does anyone expect you to! I can understand it’s not for everybody. The main thing that bugs me, though, is when people try to start arguments about why it’ll never be canon and why you shouldn’t ship it. “Charlie is with Vaggie and Alastor is aro/ace!” People ship Alastor with a multitude of other characters and nobody bats an eye,, why is it only when you see him being drawn with Charlie that you lose your shit and get offended about his sexuality being ‘erased’? (That’s a topic for a whole other post tbh). And people can ship Charlie with other people. Hell, they DO! I’ve seen numerous art of her and other characters.

Then there’s also the “Alastor thinks of her as his daughter!” See, I want everybody to actually watch episode 5 again and come back to me on this. No, he fucking does not. The only reason he was saying any of that was to get under Lucifer’s skin. That’s it. That was his whole intention. He doesn’t like Lucifer and wanted to rub it in his face that he has been a lousy father to his daughter, in comparison to all the ways he has helped her, with the hotel and whatever else.

Phew, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way! Onto why Radiobelle has stolen my heart!

I just love their dynamic and it all really started with the pilot. Alastor—this mysterious force of nature who can kill anyone and anything, is capable of unimaginable power and torture—randomly showing up on the doorstep of a hotel to help out. And literally no one else trusts him (reasonably so) but Charlie, the good-hearted soul she is, lets him in. She’s cautious, of course, but she’s giving him the chance to do some good because that’s what her dream is all about!

Now while I do wish they had some more interactions in the actual show, what we have so far is scrumptious✨ Alastor may have been giving an abundance of praise to Charlie to piss off her dad, but I don’t think he was lying. Deep down I’m sure he is enjoying the time they’ve spent together—even if he doesn’t fully realize it. Charlie defends Al’s sadistic behavior to her dad because he was doing it to defend the hotel (and bc he’s a cocky mf lol but it’s endearing to her in a way).

Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on episode 7 bro,, omfg the content!! The way he’s extra touchy with her even after they’ve made their deal. Her being nervous and stressed out but he encourages her anyway and verbally admits that he had faith in her the whole time. Him giving her his microphone—which is likely the main source of his power as shown in episode 8 (where he let her use his mic AGAIN!!!) which just shows how much he actually trusts her,, UGH it’s just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 give me more!!

Now, do I expect Radiobelle to become canon? No. Would it be fucking awesome if it did? Oh absolutely. But I know it won’t, and I don’t care! I’m having the time of my life shipping these two hell-dwelling idiots and I don’t care what anyone says about it!😋

#gotta love the ‘I can fix him’ ‘I can make her worse’ dynamic they got going on #anyway shout out to my fellow radiobelle shippers✌🏻#we have impeccable taste and we know it #and uh sorry if this rant comes across as me being petty or rude #I really wasnt. I was just stating facts lol #long post #radiobelle #charlastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel ship #charlie morningstar #alastor the radio demon #asks #anon ask #lady luxo asks

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l0viez · 2 years ago

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Back again with another dumbass "imagine sagau fics"

Im going crazy either way its fine. Anyways imagine having MEGAN in a Sagau fanfic lmao, (if you havent watched the movie yet , i 97% recommend!)

SAGAU ;

Imagine having MEGAN as a gift or just a comfort "toy" to have gifted by someone and ever since that day you guys became like twins , technically glued to eachother☠️

Being in a SAGAU with MEGAN is like having a bulletproof bodyguard

Devoted Followers, Vessels, Personal Bodygaurd, Worshipper Who??? I only know MEGAN

Whenever theres someone trying to attack you aka their "grace" , MEGAN will slice their throat in half in like 0.1 faster than xiao teleporting to traveller whenever they call his name/hj

Your "followers" in teyvat WILL glare at MEGAN and if you tell them to leave MEGAN alone MEGAN will smirk at them like "I win btch" but if you just brush it off or like laugh it off MEGAN will death glare at them back

MEGAN has the "grace's right hand" privileges, Shes like your co-worker or vice-president or sum LMAO

The non humans (yk like Archons,, Venti, Zhongli, Ei, Xiao, Ganyu, and etc) would be like salty or envy over the fact you hang out with MEGAN and has more trust on MEGAN than them, like they has been worshipping you for what?? 99999+ years, centuries?? what did that "doll" do to gain your attention like that??😦

I feel like the ones that would accept MEGAN whole heartedly and would love her /p is the childrens or the teens,, if that makes sense😭 ! (Klee, Diona, Qiqi, Sayu, YaoYao, Dori, Xiangling, Noelle, Collei, Fischl, Bennet and more)

Since MEGAN has that fighting skills noelle would probably ask MEGAN for some advice so she can be apart of the KOF (as usual) ! and MEGAN would use her "robotic skills" and just give out noelle the whole description on how to fight and stuff it probs took like 3-6hours for MEGAN to finish bc noelle wants to know alot😭

It would be more cooler if like MEGAN plays genshin or like knows all the lore and characters (the power she holds☠️)

Whenever you sneak out, go on a meeting, went out to buy some stuff , went to travel you bet your ass MEGAN will be beside u 24/7 even if the mobs dont attack you MEGAN would still be on gaurd to make sure nothing harms you

MEGAN would play some songs back in your world if you feel stressed out by the work and responsibilities

MEGAN would make a deal with the fatui or the abyss to secretly spy on you where ever or whenever you go (its not like you will leave without her🫣!!!)

MEGAN gives me that platonic yandere vibes so if you ever have "secret admirers" , MEGAN would scan that letter properly and find your admirers house and "talk" to them nicely to stop bothering you

MEGAN would have that resting bitch face on 24/7 but whenever you talk to her she would look so bubbly and nice, but whenever your not around shes so close on choking the people that has been "eyeing" you whenever you breathe, theyre lucky that you told MEGAN to not harm anyone

MEGAN wouldnt give a damn fck about visions, like she would think its useless but the fatui would give her a delusion either way😭👆🏻 (you requested it)

MEGAN would find a way to either destory teyvat or make a portal to make you both go back home cause she doesnt plan on sharing you with anyone any time soon shes only having thin patience around these mfs , but she has to play nice for now😄‼️

IMPOSTER AU! SAGAU ;

you both somehow got teleported in genshin, idk how maybe MEGAN like heard you say you wanted to go to teyvat and MEGAN is like "im a robot i can do technology i can do portal shit lets go"

so now here you both are, eating soup in a small little camp and some fruit giving by some monsters you two met along the way! isnt that nice:')))

You had abit of wound, you were thinking you would have more wound than the wounds you got but suprise suprise MEGAN protected your sorry ass

looks like MEGAN has to train harder but good thing she still have some tricks on her sleeves

MEGAN doesnt mind threatening off a few "side characters" so you two would survive

MEGAN would send death threats to the "creator//the real imposter" and she would have it in like some of the archon's handwriting without signing (bc in the movie she managed to make a masterpiece of a drawing like zamn😭)

MEGAN would give out fake informations and will say its from the "creator//the real imposter" so they would believe it but it will take like a 1-2 year from them to realized that someone has been spreading fake informations

MEGAN would sneak in the academy and do some chaos in any technology plans they have just to make distractions and give you time to get like items you both might need

If the fatuis know your the real creator and take you both in, MEGAN would only help out the fatuis by giving out personal informations of other characters that they call themselves "devoted worshippers"

MEGAN would probably be great friends with Sandrone & scaramouche

MEGAN would be "friendly friendly" with dottore just to get more technology uses😭

MEGAN has thoughts on just beating the shit out of childe (and probably dottore) but she choose not because she doesnt have time to play around with "childe-rens" and has to be by your side 24/7

but If the abyss finds you both first

ofc they would take you both in and MEGAN would also share some tips or advice to defeat those vision users

The abyss sibling would ask your permission to take MEGAN with them from time to time to set out their plan on destorying teyvet and the people who wronged you

MEGAN was abit hesitant at first cause like,, leaving you alone with the abyss? Naur..

But then you insisted that MEGAN should go with aether (also so you can go explore the abyss abit without MEGAN breathing behind your neck😭)

MEGAN would be a trump card for the abyss like if the traveller sees their abyss sibiling with MEGAN, MEGAN would glare at them, if glaring can kill people traveller would have been dead already

and if traveler shares what he saw when he saw his sibiling to like,, someone they would probably go like "yo wait isnt that the kid with the imposter?!"

If people in teyvat finally get to their senses that the "creator" in the throne is the real imposter

they would hunt you and MEGAN down (again) but with "good intentions"

you and MEGAN would troll these bitches

MEGAN would sing creepy songs while theyre haunting at the dark

you and MEGAN will only go out at night but if theres a squad looking for you both

MEGAN would be hella overprotective and going infront of you with her weapon out while glaring at them

"Your grace!"

"Tsk. little bugs like you shouldn't show yourself infront of your "grace""

MEGAN wouldn't HESITATE too ROAST them.

and you would be laughing inside bc of it too

if ever you get recrowned as the "creator" and the real imposter gets jailed up

MEGAN will TOTURE that bitch whenever your sleeping

those "devoted followers" of yours would look at MEGAN and be like

"damn i wish i was her"

MEGAN will be your loyal bodyguard and right hand

why would you need those people when you have MEGAN who sticked with you even when you were still so young?

like you would have the largest trust issues with stuff like imagine

"(maid/bulter's name), please call zhongli."

"yes your grace!"

"yes your grace, you called?"

"please call MEGAN."

"a-"

like 😭😭😭YOU DONT WANT ANYTHING FROM THE PPL IN TEYVAT

and even if the real imposter comes back and claims their the real creator , MEGAN would know their bullshitting bc she has that scanner stuff😭‼️

MEGAN will always protect you from any harm and if something even touch you without your permission, their hand is getting cutted off

"MEGAN.. Was that really necessary..?"

"Of course, Its also my duty to make you comfortable at any time _____"

"Right,, but you didn—"

"Shush now, silly _____! I was only protecting you after all we're best friends aren't we?"

Que that person whos trynna touch you screaming in pain in the background🤭‼️

Have this shitty azz drawing❤️Goodbye xoxo

#sagau impostor au #sagau sumeru #sagau #sagau brainrot #genshin sagau x reader #sagau imposter au #genshin sagau #yandere sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #MEGAN #there is an imposter among us

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alaskan-wallflower · 1 month ago

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Tw for breakdowns.

I always kinda imagined pony having like, just a physcotic BREAK, or manic edisode at least sometime after the book due to Johnny and dallys death. Like, it wasn’t slighty either, he had one at like 12 pm and just broke 95% of the shit in his room, tore down a solid portion of his posters (soda a HEAVY ass sleeper, he didn’t break anything of sodas either, all his stuff and everything in his old room.) deff wrote some scary shit like “I’m never gonna die” or “come and find me” and hung it in the fucking kitchen, which was also TRASHED when he left it, mf raided the medicine cabinet (he canonically abuses drugs.) and prolly took like a knife with him bc, after Johnnys death, and bc he’s literally in the mists of a psychotic break. He fucking RAN out there too. He filled a backpack with shit and FLEES. Like deadass didn’t come home for a solid WEEK, and he only came back bc either the come or someone from the gang found him. He was manic or in the break for like the whole month before he got out of it though, he was NOT ALLOWED to go to school (which he liked the not being allowed to go to school part) and watched over 24/7.

ohhhhh anon you have no idea what this did to me wow. um. well that hurt-i haven’t stopped thinking about this all night so thank you-

you know that a fight absolutely ensued because when pony came back he was just…angry as hell and darry and soda were obviously worried sick and they told him that but he just exploded and ended up saying the absolute worst things he could think of to them and when he calmed down and saw the damage he’d done he just felt absolutely horrendous, and darry and soda knew that but part of them couldn’t get past what he said to them and once they get him settled down they both just absolutely break themselves, not even from what pony said, but the stress of him running away again or genuinely taking his life or something.

soda definitely has to bring pony to work because he’s scared to leave him home by himself and daddy can’t make sure he’s okay while he’s roofing houses and working with kids, so pony has to chill at the DX and soda tells steve straight up not to say a word (he wasn’t going to) and it gets to the point soda can’t sleep at night and ever time he feels pony shift in bed he’s holding him tighter thinking he’s gonna run away again

this is fun oh my god

#tw breakdown #tw drug mention #tw sui mention #(it was brief but still)#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #anon #alaska’s asks

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simpofhans · 2 months ago

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I have mixed feelings about A Frozen Heart book. Like, it was life changing book back in 2019, made me go long way back to loving Hans, I actually knew his backstory and motivations from it, I grewn to LOVE HANS AGAIN, because of that book and my 2020 F3 fanfic... but that book isn't actually that good as most Hans fans see it... It has many incosistencies, like once Hans is his real self, caring about Elsa, Anna and trying to be a hero to get out of the fucking abuse, and one page later "He wAntS tO chOke ElSa" and acts like a selfish rude guy... yes, AFH gave us perspective for a real Hans, in what hell he was forced to live in 20+ years, and that's a best thing about it... and also this books covers a topics Disney usually doesn't does in the movies, or even books, especially the Frozen franchise ones. As the first book ever made for adults based on the movie, it was insane, and very, very deeply touching, but I think some things there should be done better, like, Lars being actually silent manipulator to Hans, as this mf is, and showing it openly, or more Hans overall, shown in the light we saw him at the beginning of the book... how should I believe he changes sides in a split of A SENTENCE in this book? AFH is really good covering Hans backstory and his struggles, but very bad at being brave and show who Hans REALLY IS, HIS FULL PERSONALITY + AFH ignores Helsa for baiting Hans x Anna fans.... LIKE THIS BOOKS WANTS US TO BELIEVE, THAT HANS LOVED ANNA, NOT ELSA? That's a hipocrysy... and imo AFH should be 100% Hans book, not the Frozen retelling with 99% time focused on Anna... like, WHY THEY WERE SO AFRAID OF GIVING HANS FULL STORY WHEN THEY HAD WHOLE BACKSTORY MADE FOR HIM? AND THEY GAVE IT ONLY 4 CHAPTERS???? I appreciate the efforts, but AFH is still, wasted potential and kind of shit, when I look at it... and the ending, I REMEMBER HOW STRESSED I WAS WHILE READING ABOUT HANS GOING BACK TO THE LITERALL HELL ON EARTH... THAT WAS MY FIRST STRESS LIKE THAT READING THE BOOK, AND I WAS ONLY 13...

AFH simply could be more brave, and I really hope, that if Hans will get some new content in the franchise, maybe even besides of F3/4 earlier, his story will be more accurate and him focused, than being a simple another retelling of a movie. But there is hope that the next Frozen books won't be retellings, because all the post F2 books now are 100% original (I sound like delulu 2016 Helsa fan I know, I am in this era still). So, I just want to see more Hans, ok? I miss him every day, I hope for maybe 5 seconds of cameo in Winter Festival short, if we ever will discover will it be actually released, because I just want to see him after a year of waiting (OUAS was a blessing for me)

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11queensupreme11 · 4 months ago

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QUEEN ITS LIKE 2AM HERE, AND I CANT SLEEP CUZ YOUR NEWEST CHAPTER IS STRESSING ME TF OUT STOPP 😭

When i read the TWs, my eyes literally bulged out hahwhwjwk

As a hard core posy fan, i was fed the finest of feasts this chapter <3 lol i already know pillow-humper, skin-licker, daughter-lover, vouyerism-fetishizing, daddyseidon is a bit freaky but aint no way his first major fatherly disciplinary action is TO SPANK HER, and mf was smirking too 😭

this is even more wild to think abt considering that blud has never had a child to discipline before, so im pretty sure this scenario was floating in his crusty ass mind for a while and now hes finally had the chance to act on it

Another thing, i thought the whole ichor tasting scene was the cause for the cannabilism TW and i was like oh ok 🙂 and then my jaw dropped 😭😭 BEELIE 😭😭

I was a beelcy stan from the very beginning. Still am. But his recent actions — him just not saying that he fcked up and shouldnt have made that deal w loki, his newfound jealousy and rage against anthonious (leave him alone, he sounded hella cute in that pov and in his other interactions w our loser stop😔), and lastly WHAT HE DID TO MIMIR theres no going back 😭 i feel like all the love ur giving to beel this act 1 is like our hook but then youre gonna make him such an unhinged and even hateable yan (tbh u've been hinting at that a loooong time ago but my delulu ahh kept coping, correct me if im wrong, yes im still coping). Like i have this feeling that by the end, beels gonna be one of the people percy would start to hate a lot, maybe even the most cuz, while i havent read or watched pjo, i know that his character has a lot to do w loyalty as a trait. This then gives way for other yans to swoop in and get close to her, i see you author 😡.

Sooner or later, all of beels advantages will be stripped away from him: (1) him not being related since now theres anubis and loki, (2) his knowledge of her identity/being someone she can talk to without having to be careful with her words, since loki already knows and eventually everyone else will know, (3) her friendship w him/the trust that he'll have her back because my god he keeps fucking up and all his problems will blow up sooner or later cuz he keeps bottling it up, (4) the possibility of maybe having a normal relationship w her since mimir squashed that down. There could be more but im too braindead to think rn

You're honor, i cant defend him no more 😭

As a beelcy fan, im rolling on the floor, puking tears. But as someone who has been craving apollo and hades, and is currently warming up to loki, im so 💙💙💙

Im supposed to be asleep so i can continue drawing later, but then you dropped this nuke on me and i dont know what to do w my thoughts 😞

"pillow-humper, skin-licker, daughter-lover, vouyerism-fetishizing, daddyseidon is a bit freaky but aint no way his first major fatherly disciplinary action is TO SPANK HER, and mf was smirking too 😭"

pls i'm crying at the names 😭😭 poseidon's no longer the god of the seas or god of gods, he's just.... pillow-humer, skin-licker, daughter-lover, and vouyerism-fetishizer LMAO I CONSIDER THAT AS AN UPGRADE 😂😂😂😂😂

and yes daddyseidon has been WAITING for the moment to finally 'discipline' her 💀💀 he just didn't think she'd try to risk her life for it, but whelp, she's okay now so he can spank her for it later 😂😂😂

and as for beelie.... 😔

oh beelzebub, whatever are we gonna do with you 🥲

for your sake, everyone should keep their expectations for beelzebub low. i mean technically, you should do that for all the yans, but beelzebub ESPECIALLY 😂😂

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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jack-kellys · 2 years ago

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racetrack in uksies!!

well guys! i did it- i finally started paying attention to the newsie i was pretty sick of for a while! and i was generously rewarded. here is some stuff i observed from josh barnett's racetrack higgins:

disclaimer: racetrack, in the script, is quite literally only noted as "RACE, a little tough guy". there is no one way to characterize him, and no features about him are universal/should be universally accepted beside what he says.

that said. this mf is a damn little tough guy!!!

his place as one of jack's main two lieutenants (the other being crutchie) is a lot more solidified in how he acts around the other boys, he certainly comes off older and more in charge

king of new york has him singing out from downstage to the audience as all the chaos (swinging from lamps...tapping...spinning and shit...) he incited occurs behind him. like it is his song this time which is cool, and makes sense- he's the last "original" (sorry davey) leader left that the newsies can look to and it shows.

his trio consists of specs, albert, and himself it looked like. sometimes finch but that's for more lighthearted moments. they all have trousers and not knickers, signifying their older age, and they frequent the aisles together. also specs is definitely some kind of leader based off of what he does in the show and his demeanor.

race and al are like...the soakers. they are picking fights or mocking fights when they are together LMAO.. at the gate when the headline goes up albert is like Right Up At It to make the delanceys rattle the bars to make him step aside (no one else does this). race and al also imitate jack socking the delanceys with crutchie's crutch, al fake punching race in the gut and race making a face lmfao. they also together circle around the delanceys when they're shoving crutchie around.

^something i've noticed every time but only now clocked as intentional: race's cap is the only one, out of everyone's, that has a ripped seam at the brim. it's frayed, it's been there a while, it's intentional as hell. this kid's a fighter, and he's literally rough around the edges. love it SO much omfg

another fun thing about this race: he. fucking. does. not. like. davey. for the entirety of act 1.

"hoi poloi" is mean. he says it at davey instead of around him to the boys at the circulation center. tbh the newsies in general give davey a sort of sus once-over when he mentions having a mother, but race is leading that charge and like... not for laughs exactly?? idk it felt like more at davey's expense.

race gets fucking pissed at "well if you look, and see brooklyn, then they're with us!" he pushes davey's chest and says either "don't be smart with me/right now." I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS. it is everything to me– it shows how short race's temper can be when he's stressed, pushing it onto davey– because davey got them all into this, didn't he? so what right does he have to make jokes right now, especially about brooklyn, whose backing would ensure that davey's idea of the strike wouldn't get all of them beat into the ground? (because. let's face it. of course race is going to blame davey and not jack.)

while davey is singing his piece of seize the day, race confers with jack, and (this staging was sooo good for woodside last night) points at les, who is standing right in the window between where race and jack are standing a ways away from the kid. like a "why the fuck did he bring the kid here". race definitely thinks that davey doesn't understand who's really at stake here, which is so.. protective<3.

king of new york is like a mini arc for them. at the top of the song, daveys still at the center table, race is there too, and like. he punches davey's arm. of which davey is literally like "ow", and then rubs at it through... half the whole song. what's funny abt him getting hit then is that he sings his lyrics pretty soon after, so it's like a literal push from race to get more involved (since they're the only two leaders left). as davey does get more involved, messing around with les and involving him w/ the rest of the boys, race warms up to him a lot more and their last time near each other, race gives him a smile and ruffles davey's hat. atta boy, if u will.

i think race's general refusal to trust davey with his boys is just so. fucking sick. race can trust him with the strike inner workings if jack does, crutchie actually is shown talking to davey a lot more than race and trusts him via that, and jack trusts him because jack refuses to leave anyone even remotely like his boys behind (and he recognizes they need someone like him if they want to succeed). the four of them r so. intimate to me.

but. what is also quite fascinating to me.

is that everything i've said so far about the lack of trust, the hot-headed nature, the protectiveness... y'all know who we usually 'assign' those traits to, right?

spot. conlon.

like this race is like.. if 92sies spot was in the musical..mixed w/ 92sies race LMFAO!! and you fuckin know what? i loved him for it. i have always loved characters like that, i think they're fun, very... greaser vibed, hard-hitting, etc. this spot is almost more ready to hit than protect, and the holding out on the strike therefore seems like manhattan/jack needs to prove himself to brooklyn vs. spot having to look after their newsies first.

anyway yes congratulations to uksies racer for making me enjoy the character again!!!

FUN FACT: earlier this week, someone was. literally on their laptop during. the fucking show. in richmond, which is p close to the stage. so during one of his exits, he went up to the person and said like "close your laptop. that's fucking disgusting." josh>

#slay josh barnett always #newsies #racetrack higgins #race newsies #racetrack newsies #newsies uk #uksies #analysis #fizz freaks #newsies cast #spot conlon #i rly just. this is so interesting to me. because spot seems SO defined in our minds but like... no he's not. none of them are except like #jack dave and kath #anyway yeah. i think abt a lot how this like Is the best cast we've had. i hope yall get a visual boot i rly do. <3 #rizz.analysis

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gamerbearmira · 6 months ago

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🌻That Dazzlings AU has me thinking! So, you said you don't know if Alma is a good or bad person in this AU, so what if she doesn't know because she honestly was never let in on the fact that the "gifts" have an additional curse to them. She just notices that her babies have lockets when the Casita was created or when they turn 5 (whenever you decide), but she doesn't truly understand what they mean. Alma maybe realizing that her babies react to emotions more than other kids might, and finds their musical talent as they grow. But maybe she was so stressed in the beginning since, ya know, that she doesn't truly make the connections. And as they grow, her triplets figure out to maybe hide this, and as she's a first time mother without a great indication of how normal kids are supposed to act, the kids never get really caught. Maybe also helped by the triplets deciding to only in emergencies use their abilities against their loved ones, because even evil people can care for people close to them (let us not forget that maniacs can have loving families, and these are far more minor than those).

When the grandkids come along, I like the idea of then not having control either, the triplets sorta taking it in turns to support their kids. Bruno getting more than he needs and giving it to his sisters when they are napping is an image I love, because strong Pepa and perfect Juli don't ask him for help,but he knows when his sisters need more emotional fuel. Just seeing that they gave too much to his nieces and nephews and making up for it when they don't ask him. And maybe him utilizing the already created image of "bad luck Bruno" in these moments. A more bitter man taking a shred of revenge on these people who so often take his visions as cursed deciding to take their suffering and turn it into help for his family is something that itches well at my brain.

Sorry if the rant went somewhere y'all weren't wanting it to, or if it was too much. Just liking the idea of sinister Madrigals, not quite evil but certainly not the prisms of perfection they try to be in canon.

REALLLLL I LOVE THAT <33 I was leaning towards oblivious Alma lmao 😭 but it makes sense! I mean like you said, she's a new parent. She might have been a babysitter in the past but like these are HER kids its its not a one time thing. She's already busy enough as it is, so she's sorta only half keeping an eye on them and they seem fine most of the time. I think they would get the lockets at 5, gift or no gift, it doesn't matter. It's a curse, ain't NOBODY safe 💀💀 and yeah, I'm sure they figured out fast how to use them and what they had to do. Wasn't hard for them, and they were in it for each other, and their family, everyone else is just gonna have to suck it up (not that anyone truly realizes what they're doing).

ALSO STRONG PEPA AND PERFECT JULIETA I'M CRYING :((( Bruno knows that they'll deny his help if he just goes up and asks if they need more energy. But he sees how drained they are and takes any chances. Also I like your idea of him basically capitalizing on the whole "Bad Luck Bruno" thing, I was wondering if he would use that to his advantage. He probably has purposely bad vision. Like imagine he ends up figuring out how to tilt the scales and make them bad 🦅🦅 I mean I doubt he'd leave in this au. Hell, Mirabel's failed ceremony only fueled him and the others. Imagine how much power they got that day 😛

ALSO PLEASE. I LOVE THE IDEAS KEEP THEM COMING...If you want of course. I know there's a whole lotta people with awesome ideas, and for this au no less??? Don't be shy 🤭🤭 I also like the idea of. Pretty morally gray Madrigals. Maybe even power humger like the Dazzlings. Mfs WILL be adored❗❗❗

They're so...😔

#my asks #my asks are open #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #encanto alma #encanto julieta #encanto pepa #encanto bruno #the dazzlings #mlp #the dazzlings mlp #mlp au

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avengerscompound · 6 months ago

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The Interview - Chapter 25

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (MF, vaginal sex)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 1845

Summary: Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America. Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 25

After the blow-up at breakfast, things calmed again. Melody’s parents were walking on eggshells for the rest of the morning. Which made everything slightly awkward, but that was okay, Melody had assumed it would be uncomfortable regardless of any confrontations, and if that was the case they might as well clear the air.

After breakfast, she and Steve showered and dressed before taking Steve to meet the Jacob sheep and chickens, and then into the town for lunch. She considered driving up to Portland with him to put a little distance between them and her family for a little while. Ultimately, she decided that it would just eat up the entire day for what was essentially spite. So they spent the afternoon watching Stand By Me so that she could point out things from her hometown that featured in the movie.

It was a calm day in the end. Everyone had dinner together, and River being there helped calm the storm that had been hanging over the house. Best of all, everyone seemed to like Steve. While she hadn’t cared too much if her parents did like him or not, she’d wanted Steve and River to get along.

The whole day she’d kept randomly checking socials and texting with Bobbi. The news never changed. It was just people gossiping about her relationship with Steve. The new thread seemed to be that they were in some kind of PR relationship, which didn’t even make sense given being a celebrity didn’t help Steve with his job at all, so he’d gain nothing from being linked with her. She knew it would be better to just try and ignore it, but it was like a scab she couldn’t stop picking at.

All in all, with everything that had happened, not just today but for the past few days, Melody was emotionally exhausted. She called it a night early and headed to bed. The idea was to journal about everything to try and get her thoughts in order.

There was one problem with that though, as she searched through her things, she couldn’t find her journal anywhere. She pulled everything out of her suitcase and then out of her handbag, and no journal. Things had been so hectic. Normally she always had it with her, but maybe in the rush, she never put it in her handbag before she went to work.

Steve came into the room while she was shaking out pieces of clothing to see if it had gotten tangled up in one of them. “Did you lose something?” he asked.

“My journal,” she said. “You haven’t seen it, have you? I usually have it in my handbag. But so much has been going on. I can’t remember when I last took it out.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, honey. I haven’t noticed it. I don’t think you took it out on the plane though. But I can send a message to the crew. It’s Tony’s plane, they wouldn’t have tossed it out.”

“That might be good,” she said. “I might message Bobbi too. Just in case.”

“That’s a good idea,” Steve said, crawling up on the bed beside her. The way he moved was like he was an animal stalking its prey. She laughed and tilted her head as he began to kiss her collarbone and neck. “Did you want to write tonight? You could always use one of your old notebooks, right?” Steve murmured into her skin.

She turned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her toward him as she lay back on the bed. “It’s okay. I have another stress reliever that will work just as well.”

Steve kissed her, guiding her back and wrapping his arms around her waist so he could lift her hips to move her into the middle of the mattress. She arched her back and dug her nails into his shoulders.

They stayed in that position for a while, just kissing and holding each other. She needed this. Needed to get out of her head and let Steve love her. The longer they kissed the more her body melted into him. When her lips went numb, she began to tug his shirt up his back. He pulled back and pulled it off over his head. She took the opportunity to pull her own shirt off and swing one of her legs around Steve, so he was kneeling between her legs.

“This feels a little bad being in your childhood room,” Steve said as he went to unfasten her pants.

She grinned up at him. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

He bit his bottom lip and nodded, then lunged in to kiss her again. They kissed deeply and passionately. There was a frantic undertone that was matched with the way they shed the last of their clothes. Melody squirmed under him as she helped him get her pants down, and his open. Neither of them seemed to want to break the kiss, so it was an awkward scrabble to get their remaining clothes off.

Steve had only managed to get his pants down enough to free his cock and he was pressing it up against her cunt. She moaned, arching her back and angling her hips so that the tip of Steve’s cock caught, and he sunk into her.

They moaned at once, his bass in perfect harmony with her alto. It resonated in the room and Steve kissed her to smother the sound. It just made her moan louder and she bucked her hips and dug her nails into his shoulders, her nails digging perfect crescents into his unblemished skin.

“Honey,” Steve whispered. “You’re going to need to be quiet.”

She giggled and shook her head. “You might need to make me.”

He looked down at her with darkened eyes. “Oh I see,” he said.

His hand went to her mouth, two of his fingers pushing inside as he tried to smother the sounds she was making. She moaned, sucking on his fingers and arching her back off the mattress. She pulled one leg up, and he moved, so her ankle was hooked over his shoulder. She was stretched out and open under him. Silently pleading with him to start moving. He felt so deep, and when he moved his hips forward, there was a sharp sting against her cervix that made her hiss and buck up.

He pulled back right away, almost pulling out completely and he held himself there, the tip of his cock just inside her. She mewled and her toes curled, and when she felt like she wasn’t going to be able to take this teasing one second longer, he began to thrust.

Melody arched her back, and her toes curled as Steve began to methodically pull her apart. Each stroke of his hips was deliberate and measured. He pushed in deep but always stopped just short of hitting her cervix and each time he pulled out the base of his cock rubbed against her clit. It was so exact and careful and yet he was moving at breakneck speed. His hips pistoned creating a rapid-fire series of wet cracks each time their bodies connected. A hot current tore through Melody’s body and she felt helpless to do anything other than completely surrender to it. She clung to him, fingernails digging into his back and heels shoving into his muscles as she held on for dear life.

The whole time, Steve kept his hand over her mouth and held her gaze with lust-blown eyes. She mewled into his hand, sucking on his fingers. It made it just that little bit harder to draw in breath and soon she was panting with effort, her head going soft and swimmy as her orgasm drew nearer. He knew how to play her body like an instrument. Not one move was wrong and she was doing all she could just to hold out that little bit longer.

Pleasure wound around her like vines on a stone pillar. They wrapped around each of her muscles one by one and when her orgasm hit, they pulled tight in sequence from her toes to her head, making her clench up as it tore through her. She cried out, cursing around Steve’s fingers, but the sound was muffled by his hand, and stars popped behind her eyes

Steve, however, was nowhere near close to being done.

He pulled out of her and grabbing her hips, he flipped her onto her stomach. She gasped and squealed with delight, getting on her hands and knees in front of him, pushing her ass back against his cock. He grabbed her hips and with one smooth stroke, he shoved deep inside her. It made a graphic wet squelch when he shoved back in.

Melody was shoved forward with the force of the thrust and her arms gave out immediately. She let herself lie there, ass in the air and face pressed into the mattress as Steve railed into her. She let out a loud moan, pressing her face right down into her pillow to smother the sound.

“That’s it,” Steve praised. “Good girl. Don’t want anyone to hear us.”

He ran his hand up her spine and pushed it into her curls. The sting in her scalp was enough to bring the start of a second orgasm surging to the edge. She mewled, gritting her teeth, trying to keep it together. Her legs trembled with the effort. It was no use. Steve wrapped his hand around her waist and began to rub her clit.

Her orgasm tore through her, and she screamed into her pillow as her whole body seized up with it. Steve kept thrusting, his strokes becoming more erratic as the pulse of her cunt milked his cock.

“Please, Steve,” she begged. “Please. I need it.”

He groaned and his hand tightened in her hair. “Melody,” he moaned as his hips stuttered, and with one more hard thrust, he came, biting into her shoulder to stifle the sound of his moan.

She collapsed down on the mattress and Steve rolled off her, and for a while they just lay there, breathing heavily as they rode out their orgasm highs.

“How was that?” Steve asked. “Did that clear your head?”

She laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah… mostly.”

He looked at her and cradled her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “You still need to write it out though, don’t you?”

She scrunched her nose and nodded. “I think so.”

He patted her thigh. “How about this; you find something to journal on, and I’ll draw. Then maybe we can do that again before we go to sleep.”

She laughed and kissed him. “Thank you, honey.”

It didn’t take her too long to dig out both an old sketchbook and pencils, and a half-empty journal and a pen. When they were settled on the bed she started to write out all the feelings about what had transpired over the past three days, starting with how lucky she felt to have Steve Rogers in her life.

// NEXT

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