#Koi actually writes something

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

prologue: aurora borealis | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort (but like…no comfort yet)

a/n: i've been gone SO long and i don't really have an explanation. to add insult to injury, this isn't the fandom i used to write for. i'm sorry. i hope you like it anyway :) also, as is tradition, thank you to @indiewritesxoxo, @sixeyesonathiel, @shokocide, and @kunareads, who have crafted some really special pieces that inspired me to post again :3

main masterlist

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

2006

SATORU wakes that morning to the orange glow of the sun on his face. it is unseasonably warm for april, or it feels that way in his first moment awake to the day. the slats on his window cast shadows down his body, and his face, pale and godly, is made hot with the beams in between. this dorm room is always most homely at night, he always thought, though this moment, basking feline in the warmth and believing you’re next to him, suits him nicely. you’re not next to him, of course. but he does not notice at first.

“good morning,” he whispers with a rasp, turning to you—or, really, where you were last night. but he sees it now. you aren’t there.

the truth is, he has no reason to believe you’ve gone in the final sense. you could be off training somewhere, or tending to your koi. you’d conjured them freshman year when he bet you ten thousand yen you couldn’t. your kneecaps made little craters in the dirt, watery next to the creek in the woods neighboring jujutsu tech, and your fingers fanned steadily out as you made them; colorful things, a little unnatural, and beautiful, satoru thought, all of you. he loved that you didn’t tremble with the weight of life-making. he’d paid you gladly. it was the first time he loved you, actually. yes, you could have been out watching them spin around each other and the gray rocks, but somehow he knew. 

so unlike you, his hands shake immediately as he scrambles upright. there’s a note on his bedside table and he hardly keeps himself from tearing the thing apart as he grabs for it. his heart lurches for crassness to ease the blow: fuck, he thinks. he is afraid. the note stays wrinkled in his closed palm a moment, before he turns it open.

what he thinks first is that he hasn’t seen your handwriting before. it feels so intimate, it wraps around his wrists, there’s a stickiness to it. your letters swoop and scratch and he thinks, even before he processes the words, that he may die here, looking at your handwriting for the first time. god, he wants to touch you again, he wants to see your body. 

i’m sorry. don’t come looking for me

satoru is a cosmic thing, he has always known it, the world comes to him and bows. and mostly he has relished in this unending power, in the sense that he himself has tipped some scale somewhere, in the knowledge that when fate decides she tells him first. but for the first time in his life, he hates that he was right.

~~~~~~~

YOU had labored over it: i’m sorry, don’t come looking for me. don’t come looking for me, i’m sorry. the scrap of paper dampened a little with the sweat on your palm, and you could only hope it would dry by the time he’d see it. 

you’ve always done everything after great deliberation. learning your family’s technique from your grandmother, estranged from the rest of the family, coming to jujutsu tech to make use of it in combat, becoming so entangled with satoru as you are. it was with great thought, all of it. 

it has been your most detrimental weakness in training. you cannot decide quickly. your jujutsu, a mostly docile thing you fear you may have mutilated to violence, heaves the natural cursed energy from the earth and carves life from it. flowers and branches and the koi fish you’d made for satoru, you borrow the soul of it to play god. you suppose that’s part of what you loved about being with satoru. with him your little godliness was negligible, and in that way you could forgive yourself some. yes, cast out from your family as your grandmother before you, it felt so blasphemous—or they’d told you that, anyway—to hold earth in your hands and squeeze. but with satoru you were hardly a sorcerer, the sound of his power so deafening your ears ran red with it. you loved that. you love him. 

not that any of it matters now. no, cold and beside him in the dead of night you must make this decision now. i’m sorry, don’t come looking for me. don’t come looking for me, i’m sorry. the light will crest over the horizon soon enough and satoru will wake, and you know he’d never let you leave. as soon as he sees you he’ll know. this energy is not like yours, bears only a passing resemblance to you. mostly, damningly, it looks like him. he’ll know. you bear a palm over your stomach.

in the end, you scribble: i’m sorry. don’t come looking for me. mainly because you aren’t sorry that he shouldn’t look for you. but also because you love him so terribly and you don’t want him to be hurt; you want to break him softly. it will break him, you know. you have never suspected he loves you in the way you want, but you have always asserted that he loves you in the way you deserve. it is friendly, and sometimes lustful, and so gentle, and so you insist upon hurting him as unfatally as possible. already you can hardly bear the rest of this great mess.

the night is cold as you step into it, though you know by morning that the sun will heat the smooth tiles that make up the main walkway. your shoes, special tools that keep you from cannibalizing the cursed energy in the floor beneath you, click against the stone. am i doing the right thing? you don’t know where to begin. leaving this way is only the latest awful and unforgivable thing you have come upon to do. you suppose the first would have been falling in love with satoru and letting him take you to bed, though what else was there to do? what else but him? no, you don’t regret that part at all. the gate marking jujutsu tech’s opening passes over you and you step into the mouth of your decision: you are leaving. you cannot return. you haven’t cried yet but the tears well, furious with you and terrified for something like the first time. 

you turn back: a terrible thing. this place you’ve loved blinks back at you. satoru will wake soon, you think, to read your note and hate you. you hope he hates you, for the sake of them. you look to your torso. a part of you is stunned that the cursed energy emerges this early, though if you think about it a moment longer, you suppose there’s no reason for surprise. you can almost feel it, an aurora borealis in your skin, and the resemblance is damning, truly.

~~~~~~~

a/n: i don't have much to say other than thank you for reading and i hope you liked it!! <3<3 hoping to get the next part out by this time next week :P

[hummingbird24220]

Can I please request reader gifting sanji a new tie. It's one of those gimic types (shaped like a fish or with a naked lady underneath type) and he appreciates the gift so he has to wear it but reader keeps gifting him increasingly ugly ties until sanji eventually breaks and has to tell him that while he loves the gifts he can't take one more ugly tie.

(Sorry for all the sanji! I definitely have a favourite, hope you don't get bored of writing for him <3)

Anon, do not apologise. I too, like you, have an obsession with this man. I could write about him for DAYYYYYYS.

I really liked this prompt^^ as a lot of fun to write.

Enjoy!

--

Tie-ranny

Sanji x reader

The first tie was a joke. You swore it was a joke.

It was a silk monstrosity in the shape of a koi fish—glossy, orange, and just the slightest bit too anatomically accurate. You found it in a tiny market stall on an island known for its quirky fashion, and you immediately thought of Sanji.

Because of course you did.

The man wore suits like second skin, cooked like a god, and smoked like a noir protagonist. He had style. He had grace. He needed a stupid tie shaped like a fish.

So, naturally, you bought it.

You approached him in the galley after dinner service, when most of the crew was lounging about the deck, nursing full stomachs and half-lidded eyes. Sanji was wiping down the counters, still wearing his signature black shirt and that sleek, boring tie.

Time to change that.

“Sanji,” you chirped, hands behind your back. “I got you something.”

He glanced up, smiling instantly. “For me? Mon amour, you shouldn’t have.”

You snorted. “Trust me, I probably shouldn’t have. But here.”

You revealed the tie like it was a weapon. The way his smile twitched said he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t.

He took it gently, inspecting the silky koi fish with a kind of cautious reverence. “...It’s a tie,” he said, after a beat.

“Not just a tie. A statement.”

Sanji paused, then let out a light chuckle. “It’s definitely saying something.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “You hate it.”

“I love it,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “No one’s ever given me a tie before. I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you—warm, charming, and with just a hint of terror behind the eyes. “Merci, my dear.”

You were kind of joking. But now you were also kind of obsessed.

The next morning, Sanji wore the tie.

He actually wore it.

Full suit. Polished shoes. Orange koi fish flopping limply down his chest.

Zoro nearly fell overboard laughing. Usopp asked if it was cursed. Luffy tried to eat it. But Sanji—oh, bless his elegant little soul—kept his head high, his tie straight, and served breakfast with the air of a Michelin-star chef who had absolutely not lost a bet.

You were delighted.

He was doomed.

You gave him a second tie a week later.

This one was a standard black, but when pulled, it flipped up to reveal a tiny cartoon woman in a bikini winking suggestively. Sanji paled when he discovered this—after wearing it to serve tea to Robin and Nami.

He wore it for three days out of sheer politeness.

The third tie played “La Cucaracha” when touched. The fourth one glowed in the dark. The fifth? A neon green knitted monstrosity with googly eyes stitched on like some kind of haunted seaweed.

You were testing him now. You had to be.

And Sanji—poor, noble, increasingly sweaty Sanji—endured them all.

But something in his eye had started to twitch.

-

Sanji didn’t cry.

But he did sigh like a man who had seen war.

“This one sparkles,” he said faintly, holding up tie number six between two fingers like it might bite. “It’s—bedazzled.”

“Exactly,” you grinned. “It matches your sparkling personality, Sanji-kun~”

He blinked slowly. “I don’t sparkle.”

“You do in my heart.”

He paused. “...That’s very sweet,” he said, voice hollow. “Excuse me while I go make dinner and question everything I’ve ever known about fashion.”

The next time you docked on an island, you dragged Zoro along on your usual supply run. Not because you liked him (you didn’t—he was a menace), but because he owed you a favor and you wanted a pack mule.

You didn’t expect him to actually get into it.

“Oho,” Zoro said, plucking a tie from a dusty clearance bin like it was Excalibur. “This one’s got a cat riding a shark. That’s a power move.”

You gasped. “Oh my god. And look, this one’s got… is that a chili pepper? With sunglasses??”

“Hell yeah it is.”

Suddenly, you and Zoro were in the middle of the store, doubled over with laughter, holding up increasingly cursed neckwear like you were art collectors discovering lost masterpieces.

“What about this one?” Zoro asked, barely holding it together. “It’s a chicken. But with abs.”

“Sanji would hate that.”

“Then we’re buying it.”

It became a game. A secret mission. Operation: Drive Sanji Mad With Fashion.

The tie haul that day was devastating:

One with a holographic dancing skeleton.

One that said “HOT STUFF” in flaming Comic Sans.

One with googly eyes that rattled when he moved.

A skinny tie that looked like a strip of bacon.

You didn’t even try to hide your glee.

And the worst part? Sanji still wore them.

Maybe not with pride. Maybe not even with dignity. But with a kind of resigned, tragic elegance—as if he’d accepted this was his life now, a living shrine to the gods of bad taste.

“Y/N…” he said one afternoon, when you handed him a tie shaped like a squid.

“Uh-huh?”

He looked at you. You looked back, all innocence and sunshine.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Sighed.

“…Merci,” he whispered, like it hurt.

Back on the Sunny, Zoro leaned on the railing, watching Sanji stir soup with his squid tie flapping obscenely against his chest.

“You think he’s gonna snap soon?” Zoro asked, sipping his drink.

You leaned beside him, smug. “I’m giving him three more ties. Maybe two if I find the one with the whoopee cushion.”

Zoro grinned. “Let me know when you go shopping again.”

The alliance had been forged. The chaos was escalating.

And Sanji?

Well, he was hanging on by a thread.

A very ugly thread.

--

The final tie was the ugliest thing you had ever seen. Which is exactly why you bought it.

It was fuzzy. It was fluorescent. It had two giant googly eyes, a felt tongue that dangled like an accusation, and a built-in squeaker that wheezed every time it moved.

Zoro saw it first.

He stared at it for a long moment, then simply muttered, “Oh, he’s gonna die.”

You nodded solemnly. “Or finally confess his sins.”

You presented it to Sanji after dinner, the rest of the crew scattered and full and blissfully unaware of the oncoming storm. You held the box like it was a precious heirloom.

“Sanji,” you beamed. “From me to you.”

He froze. You saw his soul briefly leave his body before he schooled his face into that familiar, worn-out smile.

“For me?” he said, voice soft like a dying man’s last words.

You nodded with dangerous excitement. “It squeaks.”

There was a long silence as he lifted the lid. His face didn’t change. Not at first. But you saw the exact moment his spirit cracked.

His eye twitched. His cigarette drooped. And then—very gently—he closed the lid.

“Y/N,” he said.

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

You froze. “Wait, what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, fast now, like he was running downhill with no brakes. “I love your smile and your laugh and the way you talk to my soup like it’s alive. I love your voice in the morning and how you hum when you’re bored and yes, even how you and the mosshead formed some unholy alliance to torture me with these godforsaken ties.”

You were completely stunned.

Sanji took a breath. “But if you give me one more tie that squeaks, glows, sings, or looks like it crawled out of a clown’s nightmare—I will burst into flames. And not in the charming, smoldering way. In the literal spontaneous combustion way.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Then blinked. “...So you’re saying you do like them?”

Sanji stared at you.

You grinned. “You do!”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Mon Dieu, please spare me.”

But you stepped closer and leaned in, voice soft now. “You could’ve told me from the start, you know.”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You’ve worn a tie that said ‘Grill Me Daddy.’ I think we're past shame.”

That got a reluctant laugh from him.

You reached into your bag and pulled out one last item—not a tie this time, but a sleek, dark blue one with a subtle embroidered pattern. Tasteful. Elegant. Something that actually matched his wardrobe.

He blinked. “Wait… this one’s not hideous.”

You shrugged. “Well, I did get you like eleven gag ties already. Thought you earned one nice one.”

Sanji looked at you like you’d just handed him the moon. “...Thank you,” he said quietly.

You smiled. “You’re welcome, Mr. Grill Me Daddy.”

He groaned again—but this time, when he tugged you in for a hug, he didn’t let go.

[inseobts]

Paths Diverged, Hearts United

Trafalgar Law x gn!Strawhat!Reader

After liberating Wano you get offered to join a new crew and you decide to follow your heart.

A/N: it’s been years since I last wrote and posted something and it’s the first time I write about one piece so please be gentle with me lmao

Tags: sfw, bickering

Masterlist // ko-fi

The celebrations of Wano’s liberation has finally calmed. The Straw Hats, the Heart Pirates, and the Kidd Pirates stood together at the edge of the Flower Capital, each crew preparing to part ways. The bonds forged during the war were strong, but now the time had come for each to follow their own path.

You stood near the Sunny, your gaze fixed on the horizon. The others are laughing, bickering, and preparing their ships, but your thoughts are elsewhere. Your heart feels heavy, torn between the adventure that await you with the Straw Hats and the unspoken pull you feel toward Trafalgar Law.

“Y/N,” Kidd’s gruff voice cut through your thoughts. You turn to see the fiery redhead striding toward you, his usual smirk replaced with something softer. “You know, you’d make a hell of a lot more sense on my crew. We’d make a killer team.”

You chuckle, appreciating his attempt to sound casual. “Thanks, Kidd, but you know I’d drive you crazy.”

He snorts “You already do.”

His expression grew serious for a moment. “But if you change your mind, the offer stands. No strings, no pressure.”

You smile, giving him a playful shove. “Thanks, but I think the Sunny’s where I belong.”

As Kidd walks away, Law approaches from the Heart Pirates’ side. His usual stoic expression tinged with something unreadable, his golden eyes locking onto yours.

“Strawhat-ya,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re really staying with Luffy, huh?”

You nod, heart pounding in your chest “Yeah. I can’t imagine leaving them. They’re my family.”

Law nods, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “Good choice” he says, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him.

The night before the departure, you found Law standing alone by a small koi pond in the garden. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a silver glow over him.

You approach quietly, nerves fraying with every step.

“Law” you called softly.

He turns, his expression softening when he sees you. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

You shook your head, coming to stand beside him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread. Finally, you took a deep breath.

“There’s something I need to say before we leave” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

Law’s brow furrows, concern flickering across his face “What is it?”

You clench your fists, summoning the courage you need, “I’ve been holding this back for too long. I care about you, Law. More than I probably should, considering we’re on different crews. But I wanted you to know�� I actually have feelings for you.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unpolished. Law’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he was completely silent.

Then, to your surprise, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length. But you—you’ve made it impossible to do that. I like - I love you too.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and full of restrained passion. The weight of both your unspoken feelings melted away as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

The next morning, the crews gather at the docks. Luffy is as loud as ever, already shouting about the next destination. Kidd’s crew is preparing to set sail, and Law’s crew is doing the same.

You stood with the Strawhats, you heart torn but resolute. You exchange one last glance with Law, a silent understanding passing between you.

As the Sunny pulls away from the harbor, you stood at the railing, watching the Polar Tang grow smaller in the distance. Law stood at his own ship’s deck, his hand brushing against the pocket where a small piece of your vivre card rested.

You are on different paths now, but your bond is unbreakable.

Weeks later, you found yourself staring at the horizon again, your fingers brushing against the matching piece of Law’s vivre card you kept tucked away.

“Thinking about him again?” Nami teases, coming to stand beside you.

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Nami says with a grin. “It’s about time someone tied you down, even if he’s not here.”

Luffy bounded over, laughing. “Don’t worry, Y/N! We’ll see him again! And when we do, you can make him blush all over again!”

You laugh, your heart light despite the ache of missing him. You know you’ll meet again—after all, your love is as constant as the sea itself.

[gatorbites-imagines]

gator ! hey ! before you write the fic, can you add creampie, breeding kink, do anything with merman!zoro tits ( bro is 110 cm 😔💪🏻 ) , biting, fingering ( zoro received ), scratching ( reader/oc received ) and more if u want to add. oh and, reader/oc voice is nice, deep and soothing. btw, if you don't do oc just make is male reader ! thanks gator !!

Merman Roronoa Zoro x male reader

ficlet

I was struggling with what fish to make Zoro, as I always base my merpeople on real fish and sea life. Like, seal merman, clown fish, seahorse, octopus, etc.

For Zoro I was thinking about a tiger shark, a grey bamboo shark, a billfish or a koi fish. I think this counts as an au, since I have no idea how the strawhats would work as merpeople.

I ended up going with tiger shark, but I really want to write about koi merman Zoro as well, if anybody is curious. I really want to try centaur au stuff, like, tiger centaur Zoro or smth.

You were a fisherman, most men on your tiny island were. The island was actually pretty big, but terrible terrain meant people only got to live near the coasts, and only one half of the island. The other half was still a mystery to most, only the most daring and strongest went there and returned.

The island was surrounded by many sharp rocks, dangerous reefs and deep underwater pits, meaning it took talent and training to survive it. but this also meant very few people left the island, and even less visited. This caused your people to be very self-sufficient, meaning you had to be as well.

As an orphan, you were raised by the collective of the village, all children were. Your father was last to the sea, and your mother to the battle that was birthing you. After all this time, it was hard to remember anything about your father, other than the stories he told you of the other side of the island.

You still remembered the tales of mermen, one specifically, who had been half manta ray, half man. Thinking about it, you might still have your father’s old sketchbook with drawings of this merman, with his strong features and red facial tattoos. What was his name again? Dragoon? Drake? Something like that.

Maybe your fathers stories had filled your head with fantasies, but you had always dreamed of reaching the other side of the island like your father once had. And as an orphan, you didn’t always have an adult to corral you back into place, or to teach you self-preservation. One way or another, you were always out in the ocean, in whatever floating device you could make.

As you grew older, you still dreamed of exploring and seeing what few others ever got to see. But, with age came responsibility, and duties you had to fulfill. You had to hunt like every other man on the island, you had to held build, craft, kill. Whatever was needed to keep your village going.

This also meant that there was an expectation that you would find a wife and marry. The island didn’t look down on men being with men, or women being with women, but you were still expected to sire children. This was something you just couldn’t do, it went against everything you knew and felt.

When the pressure became too much, when the demands became too heavy, you finally uncovered your fathers old boat and sailed out in the cover of night. The boat was something you had worked on for years, like a passion project of sorts. It looked similar enough to his, but with your own flair and touch.

Whatever watched over the oceans must have favored you this night, as you were able to sail through the dangerous and mostly deadly rock formations and reefs. Growing up, you were told stories by the village elders, that monsters of the sea would destroy the boats if the rocks didn’t. That they would drown the sailor and eat his body.

Nothing happened on your trip, even as the night grew dark, and you lost all sight in front of you. At times it felt like the waves under you were leading you in one direction or another, like something was under the ship, pulling it away from rocks or tricky waves.

The boat was pushed towards a small private beach, one surrounded by large walls of jagged rock, palm trees sticking out of the sand and even climbing the rocky surroundings. It was easy to pull your ship to land, sailing so closely you could jump out and drag it all the way. It was only years of sailing that let you tell yourself that it was seaweed on your ankles, and not somebody’s fingers as you passed through the salty water.

It was hard to keep track of time so late at night, but it must have been hours of sailing with no breaks for food or water. Enough that you let yourself wander up to the sandy beach and throw yourself down on your back, a loud shaky sigh leaving your lips. You were just so tired, tired of duty, of expectations, of everything the village expected of you. It was as if more was demanded of you as an orphan, as you had no family to mourn you or protect you. The village may be communal, but blood still meant so much.

You must have fallen asleep, as you awoke to something touching your chest. Or not something, but a hand. It made you snap awake, ready to jump back and strike at whatever animal might have been attacking you, only to freeze as your eyes met a single eye staring down at you.

The man was hovering over you, or well, you thought he was a man. Until you noticed the smattering of scales and discoloring in his skin, the sharp teeth between his plush lips, and the earrings hanging from one ear, seemingly made from what looked like straightened fishhooks.

Glancing down to noticed the lack of legs on him, instead, there was a large tail. On his ribs were gills, but there was also a pair on his fish half. Did he have two sets of lungs? Or was it all connected? The low rising sun made his tan skin shimmer from the salty ocean water still hanging on him, his chest rising and falling, making it obvious that he could breathe air.

“I- hello?” you squeak out, wanting to facepalm immediately at the way your normally deep voice cracked. The merman had a scar over his eye, and across his chest, slicing through his very impressive pecs. Maybe they were so big because he had to use his arms to swim or steer? Seeing a merman made all the curiosity brew inside you.

An almost embarrassing noise left you as the merman leaned down and sniffed at your neck, a deep barely audible rumble coming from his chest as his strong nose nudged against your chin. “I smelled you” he rumbled, making you jolt at the words, having not expected him to be able to speak or understand you.

There was a strange accent to his words, like your language wasn’t his first, or even his second, like it was something taught by someone else. But it… was kinda cute honestly, even as his strong hands kept rubbing against your chest through your clothes.

“Knew you would come… my” and then he rumbled something in a language you truly could not comprehend, something that made his gills flutter as they gurgled along with his throat. A merman language, perhaps? But the word felt important, and maybe his hands traveling down your torso only added to that meaning.

“I- huh?” you choke out, only to twitch as his sharp teeth nipped at your neck. Not enough to break skin, but you could feel them, dangerous and deadly, nibbling at you like you had seen the cats in the village do to one another.

“Zoro” the shark merman grunted, pushing himself up on his hands as he lugged himself further up, his tail pressing down on your legs as your hips slotted against his underbelly. You could feel your crotch rubbing somewhere between his pelvic fins, the now named Zoro shuddering and letting out a breathless little gasp as you felt yourself hump against something that gave, like a slit of some kind.

“Zoro” you mumbled, feeling nothing but brimming want and something hot and burning in your chest as your hands explored up and down his back. It felt so strange to feel where his human torso melted into the shark underbody, the texture was like it was melting together. The discoloration on his human skin matched that of his shark half, like it was all blurring together.

You choked out your own name as Zoro pressed down harder against you, growling as he started trashing his fish half, trying to hump harder against you. But god was he heavy, enough to leave you lightheaded and gasping, as you started to lose feeling in your legs.

“Z..zoro, please. Move” you grunt, eyes fluttering shut as your vision started blurring from the heavy merman pressing down on you with all his weight. Zoro rumbled and finally looked down, only for his one eye to widen comically as he saw how close you were to passing out.

Air rushed into your lungs as Zoro rolled off of you, ending up on his side, showing you his torso but also his underbelly. Looking down you saw the slit you had been grinding against between his pelvic fins. It looked puffy and wet, whatever slick he was producing making his slit look almost soft to the touch.

“Touch me… please” the merman huffed, looking so cute as he pouted, even with the scars and sharp teeth. You had so many questions as you crawled closer, but those questions could wait for later as you settled down beside your partner for the time being, though the weight in your chest made it feel much more permanent.

His lips were as soft as they looked as you kissed. Zoro was clumsy and messy as you kissed, a little yelp leaving him as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, trying your hardest to avoid his teeth. Maybe merpeople didn’t kiss like this? You would have to ask later.

A powerful shudder ran through Zoro’s entire body as you started kissing down his chin, letting the kisses morph into bites as you traveled down. A strong hand clutched at the back of your head as you kissed and licked at his chest. For some reason he had nipples, you had always imagined merpeople wouldn’t have any since they were fish, right? But Zoro proved you wrong, and boy were they sensitive.

The bites seemed to excite Zoro more than anything, enough for Zoro to claw at your back. A pained yowl was ripped from you as Zoro’s sharp nails dug through your shirt with easy, tearing into the vulnerable flesh of your back, the scent of blood immediately filling the air as you lurch back.

Zoro’s pupils were blown wide, his face stuck in a half confused look as you jump back, immediately trying to somehow stop whatever was hurting. It seemed to confuse Zoro for a moment, only for him to come back to himself enough to pull you back towards him. There was a spark of fear inside your chest, wondering if he was about to eat you.

But Zoro simply turned you around, pulling your shirt off you so he had access to your back. There were apologetic rumbles from his chest, and just as apologetic gurgles from both sets of his gills as he licked at the claw marks on your back. His spit seemed to act like some kind of numbing agent or glue, stitching the wounds shut. They weren’t healed or anything, but they weren’t bleeding anymore.

Zoro looked so apologetic and sorry when you rolled back over again to look at him, the large merman somehow looking small and scared. It was hard to find it in yourself to be angry, instead you leaned in and kissed his collarbone, before biting hard into your pec, enough to leave a mark.

The noise Zoro let out definingly wasn’t human, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t shark either. “Payback” you snicker, pulling back as Zoro started wiggling, trying to adjust himself in the sand of the little beach you two were on.

Zoro rolled further onto his side, almost onto his back. Not far enough to really be on his back, he wouldn’t want to beach himself. But enough to give you a perfect view of his excited slit and the way it bulged. “Please?” he panted, which sounded a little weird when you heard the flexing and wheezing of his gills, but it was hot in its own way.

You really had no idea what to do with a shark merman lover. You couldn’t kiss him at the same time as you touched his slit. You couldn’t even reach his chest as you wiggled your way down, seating yourself somewhere between his pelvic fin area, and anal fin, giving you perfect access to where he wanted you the most.

It must have looked pretty awkward from the outside, a human straddling the lower tail of a gasping and moaning merman, as you started exploring the slit in front of you. It was so gummy and weird, it was clammy and almost cold. Not cold enough to freeze but cold compared to a human.

The noises Zoro let out got louder as you carefully sank your fingers into the gripping slit, a loud obscene squelching filling the small beach as you started working your arm and wrist. You had no idea what you were really searching for, watching carefully as Zoro arched and wiggled, his tail fin wiggling and slapping against the sand as your fingers brushed against something inside the slit.

Zoro watched you the whole time, his pupil blown as you bit at his bottom lip till it bled as he moaned and grunted, cursing and letting out those nonhuman noises that made your crotch ache. “Mine, mine. My other half” He whined, voice going high pitched as his one eye rolled back, hands balled into fists as your fingers kept petting against whatever you had found inside him.

His head dropped back into the sand as he cried out, a noise you could just hear made his throat ache from how raw it was, as that slick clear fluid spurted out of his slit around your fingers, coating your arm and his underbelly.

As Zoro’s chest rose and fell in powerful motions, a weak tremble rushing through his body, there was an insistent pushing against your fingers. As you pulled your soaked hand out of his slit, something else pushed its way out. At first you wanted to panic, only for you to freeze as you watched not one, but two shafts slide out and slap against his underbelly.

They were coated in that slurpy glossy fluid, his tail still jolted and thrusting as his two cocks arched and lurched. You were almost dizzy with want as you glanced up at him, feeling sweat gather on your brow as your eyes met Zoro’s, that feral hunger back in his eyes. You had a feeling that a human like you wouldn’t be able to keep up with a mermans stamina, especially one looking as aroused as Zoro. But boy, did you want to see if that was true or not.

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 14?)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, fluff, reflections, my rusty writing. a/n: hi…. is anyone here? *blows dust off blog* i’m back, i guess! sorry for taking so long. this is not an actual update, just a little snippet—future in thailand, more reader focused! honestly, i’m not happy with the way the “official” story went lol so these past months i’ve been writing on and off, random things; planning on posting them. i hope you enjoy it! this piece was slightly based on me: the stray cat, the moving countries, the kettle left by the previous renter owner. as usual, comments are always welcome xx love, lika taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy @psychobitchsthings @dikeu-yoiz (are u still interested? lemme know!)

part 14. stamped and sealed

the air was thick with the kind of warmth that settled in your skin and stayed there, fragrant with lemongrass and sun-warmed dust, a familiar welcome you’d come to expect each morning. a breeze moved lazily through the still air, carrying the sharp, peppery scent of grilled skewers and roasted chili from the street vendors three blocks down, who had already begun firing up their stalls in preparation for the dinner crowd. you stood barefoot on the porch, sipping iced tea from a glass that sweat in the heat, condensation trickling slowly down your fingers.

the stray cat with the stubby tail—now semi-adopted, unofficially christened meatball—padded through the garden with a sense of haughty ownership. she sniffed the bougainvillea blooms, then went in your direction, weaving through your legs with a lazy meow. you had tried to move her in completely, but she scratched the door the whole night until you gave in and opened it at 3 am. meatball is perfectly content in existing around you two, asking for food or chin scritches, and napping on the sofa during the afternoon, but refusing to let go of her freedom and right to come and go as she pleases. you often wondered if it could be a metaphor for something.

all of it was. this house, with its stained concrete, and one light switch that always sparked if you flicked it too fast. it wasn’t love at first sight. at least, not for hyun‑ju. you’d seen the house online first, in a grainy listing photo that made her scoff. “it looks like a ghost lives there,” she had said.

still, when you’d arrived for the showing—her trailing behind with her arms crossed and a skeptical scowl—you’d pushed open the metal gate, walked up the overgrown path, and something about it had clicked into place. as if it had been waiting for you. as if you had been waiting for it.

the house sat halfway down a sleepy residential street in lat phrao, flanked by a gleaming white villa boasting a koi pond and a stately two‑story residence with ornate columns and a marble mailbox. and then there was this—your potential forever home. it looked like it had been abandoned for decades or forgotten by time as a deliberate act of defiance. 

you stepped onto cracked porch tiles; each footfall stirred up dust motes that danced in the afternoon sun. the yard was a jungle of overgrown grass and defiant weeds. the paint on the façade had surrendered years ago, flaking in tired strips. half the floor tiles in the entryway were either cracked or missing entirely, and the roof… 

“skylight?” you said, pointing at the bizarre sheet of cloudy plastic covering the ceiling, one hand on your hip, the other waving dramatically.

hyun‑ju’s eyes widened in disbelief. “that’s a tarp, babe. a tarp glued to the ceiling.”

the owner, an old woman with a bent back and warm, crinkling eyes, came forward with surprising grace. she rubbed her hands together and smiled at you both. “my son bought me a nice condo close by, and this old thing… well, i’m too old to take care of it now. it needs someone strong. someone young. someone who can make it happy again.”

her voice was gentle, her affection tangible—a mixture of joy and longing, and suddenly you missed your mom so much. that unexpected tenderness softened the moment. hyun‑ju’s brow furrowed as she watched the way the woman traced her hand over cracked wood and you noticed her jaw soften by the slightest millimeter.

back in your bangkok rental—a shoebox of an apartment wedged between a laundromat and a perpetually closed café—you both had to shuffle sideways to move past one another. the walls were thin, the fan made a noise like a dying blender, and your bed was only a mattress on the floor, pressed up against a window that didn’t close all the way. still, it was home for the moment. the kind of home that madehyun-ju long for something a little more permanent… but also made her break out in hives every time she thought about the financials.

you sat cross-legged on the laminate floor, legs brushing hers, while she opened her laptop like it was a vault of secrets. her expression was all business, pencil already wedged between her teeth like a cigarette. “okay,” she muttered under her breath, flipping open the calculator and opening three different tabs simultaneously. “roofing first. that tarp is not a long-term solution unless you want a waterfall feature in the bathroom.”

“it’s basically a spa experience already,” you offered with a toothy smile.

she didn’t look up. “no.”

“fair.”

she began listing line items aloud as she punched in numbers. “roof — professional job, has to be. i’m guessing 50,000 baht minimum. plumbing... looks okay. pressure’s decent, no obvious leaks. electrical? might be old, but no shorts, no sparks. so far, not terrible. cosmetic stuff we can do ourselves if we plan it out right.”

you peeked over her shoulder. “see? that’s not so bad.”

she side-eyed you, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

you giggled and leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “that’s what i’m banking on.”

still, she soldiered on. for over an hour, she ran different combinations—worst-case costs, best-case budgets, everything in between. she triple-checked estimated contractor fees and local supply prices, even converted it all to won just to see the damage in your own currency. “it’s still cheaper than anything else we’ve seen,” she admitted at last, voice softer now, more measured. “and at least we’d have space to breathe. i’m so sick of tripping over our laundry basket every time i turn around.”

you sat up, blinking at her. “so… is that a yes?”

she narrowed her eyes, but her tone had already turned. “you’ll help with the renovations?”

“i’ll lead them.”

she rolled her eyes in fake annoyance. “you’re impossible.”

you clasped your hands together like a cartoon character. “and yet so lovable!”

hyunju took a long sip of water and finally—finally—gave you the smallest nod.

“alright. fine. but i swear, if a raccoon falls through that tarp ‘skylight,’ i’m divorcing you before we’re even married.” you didn’t need more than that.

you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around her and tackling her gently to the ground, peppering her face with kisses. “you won’t regret it! you won’t! this is going to be our house! our home!”

she laughed beneath you, heartily this time, not the soft chuckle of skepticism but the real thing. her eyes crinkled at the corners as she pushed your hair out of your face.

“yeah,” she murmured, smiling. “ours.”

you bought it that same week. the old woman had insisted you take the kettle she kept on the stove. “for luck,” she said in thai, smiling as she patted your hand. you still used it, it whistled a little off-key when it boiled, like it was trying to sing.

after you left the games that november, bank accounts heavy and heart heavier, you and hyunju had counted every won like it was prayer. the money had never felt real—not when you received the non-descriptive cards with your names on it, or when you stacked it in front of you. but the moment you paid off the debt collectors, the hospital bills, the loans, and the tiny balances that haunted both of your inboxes like ghosts, the sum that remained—₩152 million—finally took on shape.

it wasn’t life-changing in seoul. not anymore, not in a city that churned ambition for breakfast and swallowed dreams by dinner. there, it would’ve barely gotten you a studio apartment in a decent neighborhood, it would’ve dried up before you had time to exhale.

but in bangkok?

in bangkok, it was a door cracked open.

it was enough to buy the house, outright—decrepit as it was. enough to pay for visa work, for paperwork translations, for the endless bureaucratic loops you had to leap through in a country that wasn’t yet yours but was slowly becoming home. it was enough to exhale, for once. to put down your bags without preparing to pick them up again.

and that was what you wanted now; not the sleek life, not the sterile shine of high-rise condos with fingerprint locks and white-leather everything, not the rooftop bars or instagram dinners or stilettos worn to impress. you had chased that version of adulthood once—when success looked like gloss and your worth was measured in how many nights you worked overtime without crying. you didn’t want it anymore.

you wanted the slow.

you wanted mornings that began with birdcalls and sunlight slicing through broken blinds. you wanted afternoons sticky with heat and iced tea sweating in your hand. you wanted cicadas in the trees, rain drumming soft on metal, the smell of fish sauce wafting from the neighbor’s open kitchen window. you wanted to sit on cracked tiles and argue over paint swatches, to fall asleep with the ceiling fan humming above you and her leg tangled with yours.

you wanted to hear hyunju’s laughter ring out in echoing, empty rooms, you wanted to fill them together.

even if the walls needed mending, even if the plumbing groaned and the roof still leaked when it rained too hard, it didn’t matter.

because you wanted her.

that had always been the constant. from the moment she pressed a drink into your hand at the edge of some party neither of you belonged to. from the first time she rolled her eyes and called you dramatic while secretly tucking your hair behind your ear. from every night she pulled you in closer instead of away.

you wanted her in every version of your life: the old ones, the ones you left behind, the ones you were building now.

and everything else—the ghosts, the names you still couldn’t speak aloud, the final click of the game’s vote on november 24th, the gunshots that still made your shoulder flinch in your sleep—all of it slowly began to dissolve in the soft hum of your days together.

there were hard nights, sure. there were moments when the silence felt too wide, when one of you would wake up gasping from a dream neither could explain, when you remembered young-mi. but you held each other through those, too. you learned to live in spite of the memory. maybe even because of it.

because of cho hyun-ju.

because of the way she always handed you the second-to-last bite of her food, saving the last one for herself like a secret. because she left you little notes on the fridge when she left early—terrible drawings of cartoon animals or scribbled reminders to eat the food she made. because she  reached for your hand under the table when in a room full of strangers, and never once let go until you told her you were okay.

because of her, your life had become something warmer, gentler.

because of hyunju, you had a partner who stood beside you, not in front, not behind. someone who built with you, laughed with you, argued and cried and tried with you. she made the ordinary feel like magic. and you loved her in the quietest ways—through laundry folded without being asked, tea poured before you even reached the kitchen, a towel warmed and waiting after every shower.

and she loved you right back. fiercely, patiently, like you were worth everything she had. your name wasn’t next to hers on any official document—not yet. but it was written into her habits, her language, the way she said "we" when planning anything. it was in the way she said "you first" and meant it.

the tea was growing warm in your hand when you heard the gate rattle: the metal screeched and the lock gave its familiar clunk. you turned, smiling already, heart rising with the familiar sound of her gait.

not because of where you were, or what the house looked like. but because she was here and  with hyunju, even a half-finished house felt like a whole world.

[bengiyo]

Ben's Big BL Blurb 4: I Hope I See Jay Sorathon Again

New year, new blurb. Time to reflect on a few shows finishing, talk about some new shows, and see where we're at in January.

Haunted Hearts Sucked

Final Verdict: 5.5, Not Recommended. Y'all don't need to watch this weird mess of a show. Despite joking about "devirginizing" its lead multiple times, it was so chaste in the end. It also did some weird world shenanigans I was not feeling. The leads are supposed to be in another Oxin Films project soon, so we'll see if they're better there.

Caged Again Flopped

Final Verdict: 6, Recommended Only For Jay Sorathon. This one really hurts me, because I genuinely loved the first half of this show. Jay Sorathon as Junior was one of the most refreshing experiences I've had in a while. This young actor is charming in a way that felt different, and I found myself enjoying every scene he was in because he could deliver what he was asked to do. However, the show generally failed to do much with most of its themes, and I think it was a real waste of Nokia and Jaonine as a pair. There were interesting themes about how Junior and Sun wanted different things out of their relationship that didn't get resolved, so all of their skinship felt disconnected from the big themes they were teasing out.

I am sad that I cannot really recommend this as a complete viewing experience, but I do not want that to detract from how much I enjoyed the entire cast's chemistry. I just cannot pretend that this show didn't peak at the gif used above before floundering completely.

An Apology to City of Stars

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended. I skipped this show originally because I was overloaded and unmoved by the first episode. However, this show was actually one of the most consistent narratives we've had about the consequences of fan culture, sponsorship, and commercialization of queer actors we've had this year. Unlike Only Boo!, this show inflicted real consequences on Feuang for coming out to the point that he essentially had to change careers (which happens to real actors all the time, going back as far or further than William Haines).

The leads also kept having sex after getting together! A novel experience! I loved that Krom had almost no swag, and Feuang fell for him entire on family photos and his mom gushing over him. He really won as a tech worker. Watch this if you're interested in seeing a show with clear ideas about the entertainment industry and are willing to deal with some weak acting.

Our Youth Left Me A Bit Wanting

Final Verdict 8: Recommended With Reservations. I wrote my write up for this already, and will say here that I like parts of this show a lot even though I wasn't fully satisfied by the viewing experience.

See Your Love Got All The Important Things Right

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended for the Mains. I will admit that I didn't much care for the side couple, but I loved Shaopeng and Sean's relationship. I loved that this wasn't a story about fixing someone's hearing so they could be in a romance. I also love that one of our final scenes in Shaopeng's dad telling Sean's dad to go fuck himself. The leads reminded me of Jimmy and Tommy from Why R U and I loved their work together.

Love in the Air Koi Was a Genuine Delight

Final Verdict: 9, Highly Recommended. I liked it a lot. I think new and old fans will be able to enjoy it. I have high hopes about cross-cultural adaptations as a result.

Love is Like a Poison Was Spectacular

Final Verdict: 9.5, Highly Recommended. I had so much fun with this show. I love that this show blended multiple genres together, and I loved that Shiba was always in a legal drama. By blending this together this way, the show supports the idea that the different ways we love and see the world are not incompatible in relationships. Shiba and Haruto are one of the best couples we had this past year, because they each made the other better, and they each add something to their relationship. Also, this show was actively horny the entire time. Run, do not walk, to support this show (if you can) on Netflix.

Fragrance You Inherit Was The One of the Kindest Shows I've Ever Seen

Final Verdict: 9.5, Highly Recommended. Thanks to the constant efforts of @isaksbestpillow we were able to enjoy this incredible show. @twig-tea already wrote a great review. I will be thinking about Sakura and Touki for years. I will just add that I really loved that Hoshii was just a goofy dude that loved the women in his home. He respected both of them, and was just so happy to be included in their shenanigans. I cannot overstate how much the episode where we met him properly kicked this show into overdrive for me. I loved that he was a good dad and husband and that it was clear his wife and daughter felt safe and happy around him. I loved that this show was about kind people doing their best.

Okay, on to the currently airing stuff.

Your Sky is Faltering, but I Still Like It (8/12)

Look, I am just not keen on the Oh redemption arc. I'm also feeling the show dragging its feet at this point. I also am not sure what the relationship between the various sides are contributing to this story. That being said, I continue to enjoy the chemistry between the leads, and I am looking forward to seeing their dating era. This show has been riding the line on the bubble, and I am curious to see where it lands.

Ossan's Love Thailand (1/12)

I've grown to love Ossan's Love over the last year, and so I was cautiously optimistic about this adaptation. I don't think the humor is as tight or zippy as I would expect, and I think the branded pair component is hurting some of the initial setup. I also feel like the shower scene shifted in a way that doesn't entirely work. In addition, making Kongdetch a widower slows down his dramatic development. I'll check in again next month.

Call Me By No Name Started Weird (1/8)

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

This show got off to a moody and somewhat intriguing start. I am looking forward to our little gamer's interactions with this possibly-fey creature for the coming weeks. It's difficult when the show starts coy.

When It Rains It Pours Has an Uphill Battle (1/7)

I am personally interested in the journey this show wants to go on as what will more than likely be a double cheating narrative. I like that the show started with boy guys in relationships they feel a bit frustrated with due to a lack of intimacy that is being actively ignored by their respective partners. I'm also intrigued because both partners seem like they're overall committed to our leads. This one started off in a mild note, so I'm curious how it holds audience attention. Still, both leads had sad masturbation scenes, one explicitly remembering when his partner used to fuck him, so it has my attention.

That's all for now! I'll check back in with one of these in a few weeks and we'll see where we're at.

[love-belle]

lo mein kayamat tak hua tera !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which everyone knows that they want each other, except for them and it's time that they change it.

or

for when you find out forever waala love. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // f1 x platonic!reader // aditya roy kapur x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - this is for my desi f1 fans and desi f1 fans only ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by adityaroykapur, lilymhe, maxverstappen1 and 2,681,561 others

yourusername where is my munda kukkad kamaal da

11,986 comments

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adityaroykapur chand theri roshni ka halka sa ek saya hai ( the moon is just a slivery shadow of your light )

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, vickykaushal09, lewishamilton and 2,416,899 others

adityaroykapur black and white

10,729 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

adityaroykapur added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by adityaroykapur, landonorris, kiaraaliaadvani and 2,528,915 others

yourusername he's my sataaye manaaye rulaaye hassaye all in one ( i don't know how to explain it, these are lyrics from a song "maahi ve" and basically it says that he troubles her, makes it up to her, makes her cry and makes her laugh, so like all in one )

tagged adityaroykapur

13,628 comments

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-> yourusername no thanks to u

-> sidmalhotra badtameez ( disrespectful )

kiaraaliaadvani don't listen to sid, I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU I LOVE YOU BOTH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR AGES FOR YOU BOTH TO GET TOGETHER OMGGGGG

-> yourusername KI I LOVE U SO MUCH WE CAN FINALLY GO ON DOUBLE DATES LIKE WE PLANNED ☝️☝️☝️☝️

username sid and aditya on a double date obviously with kiara and y/n

-> username need to see this happen immediately for mental health purposes

username everyday i wake up and see some shit like this. why does the universe hate me

username i wish y'all blocked me before posting this (IM SO HAPPY FOR U OH MY GOD)

username me preparing to spot aditya at EVERY gp this year bc i know my boy is not strong enough to leave y/n for more than 27 mins

maxverstappen1 he breaks your heart, i'll nail gun his.

-> yourusername alright edge lord no more wednesday for u

-> username CRYING 😭😭😭

username im so HAPPY y'all don't GET it i've been waiting for this for YEARS

username i screeched and my baby cousin woke up y'all im NOT playing around

username since no one's gonna ask the important question here I WILL

-> username what the story behind aditya and the jhadu photo ( broom )

-> yourusername he was trying to make a point and said that if acting doesn't work out he can start a cleaning service

-> adityaroykapur gaadi waala aaya ghar se kachara nikaal

-> yourusername no we cannot get rid of lando and charles

-> landonorris fuck you

-> username NO BC WHY ARE THEY CATCHING STRAYS AT EVERY POINT

adityaroykapur PRETTY word is real and it belongs to her and her only

adityaroykapur a living angel

adityaroykapur making my pupils dilate

adityaroykapur prettiest 💗💗💗

adityaroykapur my phone just did a backflip

-> username lord when will it be me

adityaroykapur i have NEVER made you cry

-> yourusername false u called me a daayan yesterday when i had my hair down ( witch )

-> adityaroykapur BECAUSE YOU LOOKED LIKE ONE

-> yourusername WOOOOOOOW.

adityaroykapur we're cute together or whatever 🥰

-> yourusername whatever 🤨

-> adityaroykapur we're cute together 🥰 ****

-> yourusername perfect 🤞

adityaroykapur all i'm saying is, it would be a GOOD cleaning service

-> yourusername never quit your day job we'd go broke so FAST 😞

-> adityaroykapur what happened to "sheesh mahal na mujhko suhaye tujh sang sooki roti bhaaye" ( basically the hindi version of "i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings" )

-> yourusername that's very rich coming from u considering ur roti looks like a different country every time

-> adityaroykapur wow.

username in love u don't get me

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, sidmalhotra, lewishamilton and 2,368,257 others

adityaroykapur i promise to take photos of you forever if it means i get to be by your side. lo mein kayamat tak hua tera ( i'm yours till the end of the world )

tagged yourusername

13,178 others

username im crying btw

username GOING FERAL OVER THE CAPTION WHAT THEBFUCK KK

username i audibly gasped i want what they have ‼️‼️‼️‼️

username THEY'RE MY PARENTS EVERYONE SHUT UP

username taylor swift writes songs about them btw

-> username ARIJIT SINGH writes songs about them more like 😭😭

username forever cackling bc sis really asked him out in the comments section

-> landonorris she got no game 😞❌

-> yourusername still pulled a bitch before u

-> landonorris she called you a BITCH adityaroykapur

-> yourusername WATCH UR BACK AT TURN 1 IN BAHRAIN I WILL ANNIHILATE U

-> adityaroykapur ...

username crying bc we're gonna get aditya at EVERY gp like im not even wrong bc that man's down BAD for her

-> username simply existing gf 🤝 obsessed bf

username god i see how kind u have to others

username alright y'all time to hug a tree 362 kmph

username O MAAHI LYRICS I AM DEAD I AM GONE I AM DECEASED I AM DECOMPOSING I AM SIX FEET UNDER

sidmalhotra happy for you both 🙄🙄🙄

-> sidmalhotra 🥰🥰🥰*****

-> yourusername stay mad bc i stole ur bf ☝️🙄

-> adityaroykapur did i unintentionally start another fight ⁉️

sidmalhotra finally no more talks about how much you want her 🥳🥳🥳

-> adityaroykapur that was CONFIDENTIAL

-> yourusername tell me more ☺️ sidmalhotra

username AND WE ALL CHEERED FINALLLLY

username the it couple of bollywood AND f1 i said what i said

username need me a guy who will post me like this or wtv 🙄🙄🙄🙄

yourusername bold of u to assume i'm leaving after the world ends 😕

-> adityaroykapur we'll haunt sid together 🤝

-> yourusername OMGGGGG YES

-> sidmalhotra MEINE KYA KIYA ( what did i do )

yourusername why do u always catch me off guard i look so bad 😭

-> adityaroykapur jhoothi you look perfect ❤️ ( liar )

yourusername i love u

-> adityaroykapur i love you so much more

-> oscarpiastri we get it MOVE ON

-> yourusername 😐😐😐

-> username LMAOOOOO

username i'm in awe WE'RE FINALLY HERE PEOPLE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[floridecuts]

Offering another dose of Death Mark art for the weekend! ~ I got inspired again by @enjoyjellime's fanfiction "Choco Fin" again - Surprise, it's actually become three pieces! ^-^ I was so happy that my other work was able to inspire them to write an alternate ending for the story! I really liked it a lot, so I had to draw something - also the temptation to explore drawing Mashita as a piranha-themed merman was just too great! xD I hope my drawings did your imagination justice! It was actually a bit challenging to draw Mashita's tail, since I wanted to keep as close to the reference as possible while also making sure to not make it look too short in comparison to Yashiki's long Koi-tail. So I hope I did alright.

The first picture was inspired by the moment where Yashiki and Mashita hug each other, after the spirit has been pacified. The way how the scene is described in the story, with their tails curling around each other and other fish swimming around them, painted such a beautiful picture in my mind that I wanted to draw it. (Please ignore the messily drawn fish in the background ^^'). With the other two pieces I wanted to depict the moment of relief and happiness (and maybe a little bit of smugness in Mashita's case xD) between them and the moment where Yashiki kisses Mashita. I liked how easily Mashita blushes in this story, it seems so adorable, considering his personality, so he's blushing here too. ^^ (Also, I could have sworn this also happened in the story, but apparently I must have imagined it, because that didn't happen in the chapter when I re-read it earlier xD). I discovered that I really love drawing those two in close moments like these, so I'm definitely gonna be doing more such pieces in the future!

Anyways, I hope you liked it! Thanks for taking a look and have a nice week! :)

Also, here's the link to @enjoyjellime's work, if you want to check it out : Fanfiction "Choco Fin" on AO3

[yaoigremlin]

Hi! If you don't mind, can I ask something?

a.) Please write your top 3 or top 5 favorite tropes in BL. From each trope, write at least 3 BL that you love.

b.) Who are your top 5 (or top 3) favorite top & bottom characters from any BL media (can be manga/manhwa/danmei/manhua)? The top and bottom don't have to be from the same BL...

Thanks if you want to answer ... 🤩

Hi!! Thank you for the ask! This one was pretty tough! As you'll see, I opted for five rather than three because I need as many choices as possible. Still, it seems no matter what, I'm forced to leave off BLs and characters that I love because there are so many good ones. No danmei to list at this time as I am only recently starting my danmei journey.

Part 1: BL Tropes

Idiots Falling in Love: It’s best when the characters share one brain cell between them but I will gladly accept one lovable himbo paired with a more intelligent and reserved character.

Red Thread Quest by soop2rang - Unsleep by Hyeonoe - Ask and You Will Receive by Niyama - Paws & Claws by Ilju/Duhaem/Marin Code - Scent and Sensibility by Lily

Forbidden/Tragic Love: I tend to enjoy this trope within a historical setting the most since I find that the angst hits a lot harder. Bonus points if there is a revenge plot.

Painter of the Night by Byeonduck - Steel Under Silk by snob - Coyote by Ranmaru Zariya - The Ghost's Nocturne by ANANAS/C.R Jade - Toxin by Doroh/Nunnu/Mechanist

Something Strange is Going On! Supernatural/Otherworldly: Pair this with lots of banter and/or comedic moments and I'm sold. Bonus points if there is an investigation/mystery aspect.

It's Just a Dream...Right?! by White Eared - Love in Orbit by LattePanda - Dreadful Night by moan - Love at First Fright by nangjun/duzza/kouzaki palace - Dreaming of the Dokkaebi by LAPIS

Forced Proximity via Neighbors/Roommates: I have no real preferences for this one. I enjoy a lot of different dynamics here.

The Metalhead Next Door by Mamita - Our Sunny Days by Jeong Seokchan - Can't Think Straight by PANGIN/Hudadak - Virtual Strangers by ANGELA/B_jak/HoneyTrap - How to Deal When Your Intimidating Neighbor is Actually an Omega by Nikuya Inui

Age Gap: Lately I've been especially enjoying the Younger Top x Older Bottom dynamic just because I think this pairing is very cute. It's in three out of my five picks.

A First of Summers by Pppanghouse - My Sadistic Master by Seo byeol/Haseo - 10 Things I Want to Do Before I Turn 40 by Mamita - Gig of the Day by Danbi - Koi ga Ochitara by Ueda Aki

Part 2: BL Characters

It felt like an impossible task to choose only five each so I cheated and chose five that I love based on their personality and five that I love based on their overall aesthetic. It helped me finally narrow it down enough to make this list.

Top 5 BL Tops (Personality): These are all comfort characters for me, especially Jigu who is my absolute favorite boyfailure. Honorable mention for Dooshik from Pearl Boy (Inking) who lost the battle for the fourth spot to Taeju.

Tae-oh from Scent and Sensibility - Yeoreum from A First of Summers - Jigu from Virtual Strangers - Taeju from Low Tide in Twilight by euja - Chi-young from Paws & Claws

Top 5 BL Bottoms (Personality): Another set of comfort characters. They are all lovely, especially Sung Ho who is actually perfect. Another honorable mention, this time for Jooha from Pearl Boy, who lost the battle for the fifth spot to Euihyun.

Dobin from Scent and Sensibility - Ho from Our Sunny Days - Kihoon from Red Thread Quest - Seo-an from The Pizza Delivery Man and the Gold Palace by u-pi - Euihyun from Low Tide in Twilight

Top 5 BL Tops (Aesthetic): Personality technically also applies to each of these characters... except for Garon. I’ll be excluding him from that. Anyone who has read Toxin will know why... lol

Garon from Toxin - TJ from Wetsand by DOYAK - Seungho from Painter of the Night - Bihwan from Dreaming of the Dokkaebi - Jae-shin from The Ghost's Nocturne

Top 5 BL Bottoms (Aesthetic): They could also all fall into the personality category as well with no exceptions this time.

Bada from Dreadful Night - Taekjoo from Codename: Anastasia by Han/Eunbi/Boyseason - Kanae from Pink Heart Jam by Shikke - Yoohan from Payback by Fujoking/samk - Minchan from Dreaming of the Dokkaebi

[adobe-outdesign]

Random Neopets review: Dimensional

(Doing some random reviews because there are no Neopet review requests in the inbox right now. If you have any send them in etc etc.)

Dimensional is a pretty strange colour, as it's not really clear what it's supposed to be. The name is too vague to be useful, and the actual design is...the best way I can describe it is kind of like a neon sign, but also not, which isn't very helpful. Specifically, it makes the pet's outline white, adds a glow effect to it, and then fills in the empty space with a textured color of some kind. It's unique enough, but it's pretty niche and not all that exciting.

Part of the issue is that the colour remains the same for all Neopets (minus some artistic decisions). Consistent colours aren't bad or anything, but there's nothing about this one that's interesting enough to hold its own. It does change which solid color is used for each pet, but that actually can lead to issues—rather than keeping the base dark and changing the glow, it usually changes the darker colour, resulting in garish or just plain ugly pets, with the yellow ones looking particularly, uh, Bad.

I feel like a more interesting direction would've been just to go full neon sign—maybe even make the areas between the lines transparent so people could go ham customizing. It would still be niche, but I feel like that would be more unique and fun to play with at least. Regardless, this isn't the worst colour, but it's definitely not the best.

Dimensional was created after conversion, so there's no pre-customization art to discuss.

Favorite Species:

Koi: The dimensional Koi was literally just released yesterday at the time of writing, and it looks surprisingly nice. What's unique here is that it uses a simple dark purple base with varying hue shifts, but also uses multiple colors for the line glow, including orange and blue. It's very pretty and gives the colour a bit more depth and visual interest than it usually has. The Uni does something similar and also looks pretty good.

Quiggle: The dimensional Quiggle is mostly standard, minus one thing—instead of just making the eyeballs white, they're instead transparent and sit on top of the body. That's very fun, and something that I think more dimensional pets could play around with. The red also works pretty well thanks to the dark-colored base providing contrast.

Eyrie: The dimensional Eyrie isn't anything super special, but it does look good. The dark and light blue contrast is solid, and the lines genuinely look like they're glowing (instead of being a solid white with a glow around them). The glow itself also seems to change width throughout, giving it a good sense of depth, and there's no real texturing on the base to mess it up.

Least Favorite Species:

Hissi: There were unfortunately a lot of contestants for this spot (including the dimensional Usul and Acara), but the Hissi is probably the worst. The body texture is both weird and distracting, and the lines barely look like they're glowing. Also, the pupils are missing, so now what should be the eye highlights look like the pupils and that's just weird and very off-looking. Also also, the color is pretty desaturated. Bleh.

[jayviknation]

Shorter because Viktor is harder to write in character for me ! Just some thoughts I had bout him 💞

🍬 Viktor Headcannon’s 🍬

- [ ] Favorite color

Gold - not your typical gold bar or flakes but a light gold that reflects light but still somehow captures the sun (def not talking about Jayce’s eye color teehee)

- [ ] Nicknames

Doesn’t like to be called anything but Viktor, accepts Vik from people that know him (will only accept being called V from Jayce)

- [ ] Coffee

Black, but loves a sweet pastry to complement it. Please get this man a chocolate croissant or strawberry crepe

- [ ] Love language

So I was actually torn on this but I believe Viktor’s primary love language is quality time but his secondary is giving gifts, he’s a man that pays deep attention to his friends/loved ones and to make up for his lack of physical affection he is absolutely grabbing that dolphin keychain for his friend

- [ ] Dancing

Secretly loves to dance but would rather be locked in prison for life than admit that (catch him in the office late at night breaking it down to bebop or funk when he’s alone)

- [ ] Detail oriented

This man pays attention to EVERYTHING, it’s what makes him so different when it comes to his science but he is constantly making sure EVERYTHING is documented in their lab (even when Jayce begs him to stop writing down tasteless jokes Vik is trying to make happen on their last stack of sticky notes)

- [ ] Messy

This man is messy but it’s a controlled mess, yes everything is cluttered and looks lost but he can tell you where anything is in their lab

- [ ] Humming

When in deep thought about an equation or troubleshooting a rune pattern he has a song that he hums softly to help focus (Jayce acts like he HATES this but hums it anytime Viktor is not in the lab too)

- [ ] Baths

Baths over showers, that’s the tweet

- [ ] Runs cold

Is usually constantly freezing but won’t admit it, Jayce has known him long enough to pick up on his 🥶 face and will grab him a blanket and knock up the heat before he can protest

- [ ] Plants

This man has a deep appreciation for nature and its ability to create so he absolutely would be a plant dad, and not just any plant dad he would have all sort of exotic plants thriving in unusual conditions (is responsible for most variegation of plants in piltover)

- [ ] Fish

Coming from the UnderCity fish were rare to see just swimming around, has two pet fish in a 50 Gallon tank (had to make sure they have space to thrive) and takes a weekly lunch by the koi pond in the park nearby

- [ ] Handwriting

He writes like a doctor writing your script, he’s working really hard to change this and will spend extra time cleaning up his writing if it needs shared with Jayce but look at his personal notes and it’s like deciphering the Da Vinci code

- [ ] Cane

He absolutely uses his cane to his advantage - switching light on/off, dragging things to him, bonking Jayce when he says something silly, it is way more helpful than he would like to admit

[kori-senpai]

I mean that's an unconventional way to ask me to marry you but man sure, I will--

My next fic bookbinding. This is probably my favourite fic of the fandom, so now it exists on my shelf. Unfortunately I do not own anything related to these three animals for the picture, but I do eat black liquorice regularly. (Author:volksidiot on AO3 @kori-senpai )

[oh-no-its-bird]

Oh hey take another fic summary I found in my notes app for something I'm not actually going to write;

There are many who would claim the Uchiha to be a clan of demons. It's those same types of people who would say the Senju descended from spirits of the land itself.

For obvious reasons, Madara doesn't put much stock in stories such as these.

But maybe he should have.

Or, the Senju's second heir goes missing, and Madara's father brings home a silver koi fish.

[abcjxyzyeo]

haiii!! i have a request for you! could you maybe do a Sokka x Kiyoshi Warrior reader who watches over Sokkas trainings with Suki and he becomes embarrassed or wtvr because of how much hes failing? it can go any way you want, idm really. thanks sweets!<33

-🦢

Heart of a Warrior

AN; Request by 🦢 !!! Omg I absolutely love this idea sm, I had a little field day w this one 😘😘 But tbh I didn't know how to end this too the ending is kinda rushed and bad !!! Also for this js imagine Sokka and Suki r 20 and reader is 18 !!(It doesn't matter but Katara and Aang r still 12/14 !!) AND ONE MORE THING OMFG anyways just imagine that the gaang stayed at kyoshi for a little bit longer like 2 weeks before the fire nation came. (why does it feel so weird writing a fic for Sukis' sister x Sokka like dam she rlly stole her sisters man 😭😭)

Pairing; Sokka x afab!reader(romantic), Suki x afab!reader(family)

summary; When the gaang visits Kyoshi Island to ride some Koi fish, Sokka seems too distracted too even try to figure out whatever is going on with Katara and Aang. And distracted by a certain younger Kyoshi Warrior

warnings; not proof read!!, angst(?), sumwhat sfw ? semi one sided enemies to lovers

You sighed, wiping off the lengthy make up you wear to be a warrior. You loved being a Kyoshi Warrior more than anything, but it was tiring. You were two+ years younger than everyone else so Suki, your older sister and the leader, let you take breaks every so often. Luckily she said you can take the day off. You started to lay down to take a nap when you heard running and yelled outside, in your pjs you ran to grab your fan and went quickly outside. Staring at the trio that was tied to the podium you were star struck. Their clothes were so different than anything you have ever seen. You had honestly(but luckily) been sheltered to only have to know clothing from the earth kingdom and Kyoshi island. After debating between the three and your sister, the young bald monk was revealed to be the avatar. Something about it irked you and you rolled your eyes. When you looked back you had caught the attention of a water tribe boy who seemed to be your sisters age. he started to walk over and talk to you, but nothing peaked your interest. Mostly just him giving back handed sexist compliments.

"Your sister is pretty strong for a girl!" He chuckled, obviously annoyed he was ambushed by girls.

"Uh huh" not giving him common curtesy to look him in the eyes.

After a few more comments you simply zoned him out. Well until he asked something that you were actually interested in.

"Sooo.. are you one of the painted fighters too?"

"Um. A Kyoshi warrior? Yea I am" and he gave an interesting look so with that you walked off sighing to yourself. The first outsiders to visit during this 100 year war had to be the most uninteresting people ever. (Cuz honestly you weren't completely convinced the Avatar was here on good terms, he'd probably just lead the fire nation here.)

For the next few days you saw Sokka try and learn how to fight like a Kyoshi Warrior. It kind of disgusted you, you know he just wanted to be better than Suki, but luckily she was the best of the best so you had nothing to fear.

Suddenly you found your feet moving towards the duo practicing, against your will. You knew you disliked Sokka, you avoided him as much as possible. It was baffling to you how different he is from his sister, at least you could stand her. Once you reached the two you sat on a near-by tree stump. Sokka looked over mid attack and absolutely fumbled falling straight on his face. You rolled your eyes and his face went bright red. For the hour that you watched them, Sokka missed every hit and took every hit thrown at him. By this time you were annoyed, instead of finding it humorous. It was like he was trying to be funny and mess with a sacred art form. Frustrated, you loudly groaned and walked away. Sokka knew he had messed up, he wanted to be good, he wasn't sure if it was for him or for you. He thanked Suki and ran off to find you.

Practicing all your moves you had learned over the course of your young teenage life, you left someone creep behind you. Stopping what you're doing you turn around, expecting Suki, but finding Sokka. You simply crossed your arms expecting him to speak.

"You saw me practice today" he uttered embarrassed

"Indeed I did," rolling your eyes

"I didn't mean to mess up, I was just nervous with you watching!"

"Whatever you say water boy, just stay out of my way and stop making a fool out of yourself." you turned back around and tried expanding your fan, but suddenly a hand was on your wrist and your hip, spinning you around instantaneously. Sokka's face was mere inches from yours, he looked down at your lips and back up to your eyes making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Why won't you give me a chance?" he whispered low

Your mind whirred, 'chance for what? Why does he want a chance? Why is he so close?'

"Um what do you mean?" you gulped loudly

He let go of you lightly, "Why don't you give me a chance to show you I'm not who you think I am, I'm strong and a warrior."

You immediately scoffed "Yea right, what I saw today really showed that." this obviously pissed Sokka off, and he lowered his head down to stare at you in the eyes. Suddenly you could smell him, taking a moment to appreciate how clean he kept himself, you gathered and studied every inch of his face. Pausing to look at how nice his lips looked in the light. A moment of silence was suddenly broke.

"Like what you see?" He said smirking, leaning in to close the distance between yours and his lips.

You yelped loudly before throwing him over your shoulder and running away.

After what happened it was easy to ignore him and his practices. But your heart didn't want to, some how that stupid pony tail boy made you yearn for him. But your brain knew it wasn't a good idea to fall for a strange boy, let alone let him know that. But fate was against the organ in your head and as you turned the corner you saw, once again, your sister practicing with the water tribe boy. You walked up to them to watch but this time when Sokka noticed you, he gave it his all. Easily overpowering Suki, her face turning bright red that you could see through the makeup. Sokka crossing his eyes and giving a smug look. Your jaw dropped and you felt something inside your stomach, a tight knot that wouldn't untie. Sokka walked over to you after thanking Suki and bowing to her.

"How was that?"

you just stared at him, shellshocked. Causing him to laugh he rolled his eyes at you, he wrapped one hand around your waist and one around the back of your neck pulling you in for a kiss.

You eased yourself into it, kissing back. Your brain knew it was wrong but what was so bad with letting your heart win?

"Well Sokka, you do have the heart of a warrior." you laughed before leaning in for another kiss.

[junkworldusa]

big ask post

i wear a lot of black, but no :(

VALIS by PKD, Cat's Cradle by Vonnegut, Dawn by Octavia Butler, Ada or Ardor by Nabokov, the Breath of the Sun by Isaac Fellman. thank you!

this is a v sweet ask, thank you. i think i'm still clumsy at expression, which is why i've stopped posting as many short comics. i want to force myself to express something through a larger narrative, something that you can't just turn to the viewer & explain in 4 panels. but all that aside,

try to read a lot, not just genre fiction! read stuff that's weird and hard and outside your wheelhouse. history, classics, psychoanalysis, whatever. and after you do you should process it somehow, whether that's by writing or talking or seeing what other ppl think about it. after i read Blood Meridian i listened to the YaleCourses lecture on it while i made dinner and i was arguing out loud with the professor the whole time. i think that's the only real advice that i have, not just to seek out new art but to take the time to process it and develop opinions on it. (same goes for film, paintings, plays, etc)

ty! by sheer volume it's detroit house... progressive techno... aphex twin. & i've been on a west coast hip hop kick bc of kung fu kenny

i've just been using bigcartel, it's really simple to set up & they don't take a cut. (stripe/paypal still does but that's unavoidable.)

ty! i mostly draw in Canson XL Mixed Media sketchbooks. for sketching: staedtler non-photo blue pencils, tombow fudenosuke brush pens, faber-castell pitt artist pens, micron graphic pens (they don't last though!!!!!!). for inking it's the classics: winsor newton series 7 size 2 & a tachikawa nib holder w/ hunt 102 nib. the nib doesn't actually fit so i have to wrap tape around the base. don't be like me.

i've recently started buying winsor-newton watercolors but tbh the sakura koi field palette is cheap and vibrant and i still use it all the time!

whatever's on my mind, which is usually little guys being existential. welcome!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 8: The New House]

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, kids, parenthood, historical topics like violence and discrimination, Cakes with Christabel, angst?? Who am I kidding. Angst!!!!!!

Word Count: 5.9k.

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 @gemini-mama @daenysx @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbelll @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰🧁

“I have no idea what he’s thinking,” Christabel tells Alicent, a low furtive murmur around nibbles of a cinnamon French toast cupcake. They are both sitting at the kitchen counter as you scuttle around wiping down burners and handles and knobs, trying not to listen in, unable to help yourself. At the table, Amir is frosting a Lady Baltimore cake and chatting with Criston, who has eaten no less than three miniature cherry pies in the past fifteen minutes. Amir keeps casting you wide-eyed, flummoxed glances. He means: Can you believe these people? No, you can’t.

Alicent sips the glass of sweet tea you poured for her and gazes vaguely around the room. “Oh, you know how Aemond is, dear. He works so hard. He’s so consumed by the Lake Verret project.”

“But shouldn’t he talk to me?” Christabel’s large blue eyes are luminous, persistent.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Of course he talks to you.”

“Sure,” Christabel says, frowning. “He talks to me about the weather and the garden and the koi in the fish pond. He asks if I listen to Dire Straights or AC/DC. Nothing of consequence, nothing revealing. And he never touches me. Alright, fine, there’s a hand on my shoulder or my waist once in a while, for a moment. There are quick, courteous kisses. But that’s all. And he’s so…so…” She struggles to decide on a word. “Formal!”

“Have you tried the cannoli cupcake yet?” Alicent asks, sliding the plate towards Christabel. “It’s just divine. I absolutely adore it.”

“When we’re apart he says he misses me, but he hardly ever calls. He tells me that he loves me, but only if I say it first.”

“He’s marrying you!” Alicent declares as she restlessly twists her assortment of glittering rings, gold and diamonds and emeralds. “What more is there to say, dear?”

“Surely there must be something,” Christabel mumbles. She obediently samples the cannoli cupcake, carving away a tiny sliver with her fork. “Oh, that is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s my favorite one yet.”

They have twelve flavors to choose from, some familiar and some new: vanilla bean and triple chocolate of course, the classics, and then also cannoli, cinnamon French toast, carrot, red velvet, Boston cream pie, apple cobbler, peanut butter and grape jelly, Neapolitan, Louisiana crunch, and hummingbird. Christabel surveys the selection and then looks to where you are vigorously scrubbing an already clean stovetop. “Aemond mentioned something about banana bread cupcakes. Do you have one of those we could try?”

And again, you are amazed by how much he remembers: the very first cupcake from the very first night. “Um…I’m not sure, actually. Amir, didn’t we make a batch earlier this week? Are there any still on the table?”

Amir checks the cake plates, lifting glass covers, until he locates a single remaining banana bread cupcake for your customers. He ferries it to the kitchen counter with great ceremony. “Everyone raves about this flavor! And it’s so quintessentially southern. Perfect for a Louisiana wedding.” You give him a miserable, deadened stare and he offers a millisecond smirk of commiseration. What else can we do? Amir means. And you think: Nothing.

Christabel samples the cupcake, an infinitesimal morsel speared on the very tip of her fork. You recall how Aemond tasted like sugar and honey and cinnamon when he kissed you on the night you met, rough, dominating, irresistible, without the aching weight of disappointments or betrayals. If time was a cobweb you could rip and walk through, you’d be back in that May dusk in an instant, you’d live there forever and never leave.

“That’s it.” Christabel grins as she licks cream cheese frosting from her full, pink lips. “This one. I want a banana bread cake.”

“Mmm,” Alicent agrees, taking a bite. “It has so many dimensions! Sweet with just a touch of salt, light and fluffy but with a certain substantial, rustic quality, don’t you think? It’s the cinnamon, perhaps.”

You make a note on your yellow legal pad—a reminder you don’t need—so you can avoid Christabel’s benign, guileless gaze. “Is there a design you’d like for the frosting?”

“Wildflowers.”

Amir emits a startled gasp before he can swallow it back down. You look up at Christabel. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Just like the vanilla bean cake you made for the engagement party.” She draws blossoms in the air with her fingers, whimsical like a fairytale. “There was white icing and then all these gorgeous flowers in a dozen different colors. You could do that for a wedding cake, couldn’t you?”

“Of course.” And then you amend: “Well, Amir can. He’s our Picasso.”

“You’ll need something for the rehearsal dinner too, dear,” Alicent tells Christabel. Then she turns to you, tugging anxiously at one of her auburn ringlets. “You’re the expert, love. What would you recommend to impress upon our guests all the history and mystique of the Deep South?”

Your mind is blank, your thoughts gnarled up with visions of Christabel meeting Aemond at the end of an aisle. Amir sees this and he saves you.

“A Napoleon cake,” he announces with his best salesman enthusiasm, powerful enough to sweep everyone else along with him.

Alicent claps her hands, elated. “Oh, just like the town!”

“It has layers of puff pastry and rich custard cream, very French, very elegant and sophisticated, but also a nod to Napoleonville. And we can add a cherry jam to make it more romantic, if you like.”

“Doesn’t that just sound heavenly, darling?”

“Does Aemond like cherries?” Christabel asks Alicent. You know he does, but you don’t say anything.

“I think so. We’ll ask him tonight to be sure.” Alicent is opening her clutch purse to get the cash to pay you; she is eager to have this errand finished, you believe. “And can you put wildflowers on top of the Napoleon cake as well?”

“You can have the Declaration of Independence written on it if that is your heart’s desire,” Amir says, then steals a glimpse of you. You’re jotting the order down and then tracing over your own letters again and again.

“That’s the color scheme,” Christabel says a bit dreamily, forever woolgathering. “Wildflowers. And I think you suggested it at the engagement party,” she tells you, appreciative. In your recollection, it was less of a suggestion than a confession of what you once dared to hope for. “Everything has to have wildflowers. Even the dress.”

Alicent groans. “Oh, Christabel, not this again.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so resistant, those dresses were spectacular.”

“Whoever heard of a multicolored wedding dress?” Alicent asks you, Amir, Criston. “It’s absurd. The bride always wears pure white, everyone knows that. It’s tradition! It’s dignified!”

“Well now I get to solicit opinions too.” Christabel reaches into her own purse—a quilted shoulder bag, light blue with red roses and a label reading Souleiado stitched inside—and produces several polaroid photographs. She gives them to you; they are all of her posing in different wedding dresses, stylish white gowns freckled with wildflowers like splashes of paint. “All anyone can talk about is what I should wear, what the guests will expect, what they will chatter about when they gossip afterwards,” Christabel tells you. And in her vast, shimmering eyes you can detect no resentment or slyness, only quiet desperation. “But you’re a real person. So be honest with me, because there’s only one thing I really care about. Will my husband think I look ravishing in any of them?”

“These theatrics,” Alicent sighs to herself, lighting a Marlboro cigarette. Again, she is peering aimlessly around the kitchen. Amir fidgets with the dogwood flower in his hair as he watches you wearily. Criston compulsively eats another miniature cherry pie.

You study the polaroid photos. Each one feels like a split lip, a fractured rib, the shredding elephantine pressure of a contraction. You wait to speak until you’re sure your voice won’t break. “They’re all stunning. But this one…” You place one picture on top of the pile. “This dress was made for you. Just look at your face. Glowing like a lightning bug.”

“Thank you,” Christabel says, beaming, immensely grateful, and she takes the photos back. She seems pacified. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

“I was, yes. Briefly. Not very happily, I must admit. But it was worth it to get my daughter.”

She smiles. There’s no uneasiness; she doesn’t shy away from displays of human frailty. “I’d like a few daughters one day. We could all dress up together and style each other’s hair.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. If I tried that, I’d get my hands chewed off.”

Christabel laughs. She wears a casual blue t-shirt, blue gingham capri trousers, and white flat pumps. Her eyeshadow is a sparkling gold, her mascara flaking onto the apples of her cheeks. She is still marveling at you with those aquamarine eyes when Alicent pulls a list out of her clutch and grudgingly crosses off items with a black ballpoint pen.

“So we’ve got a wedding cake, a rehearsal dinner cake, a dress, a venue, flowers, photographers…I still need to call about hair and makeup…and we need to pick out candles…”

“Where are you getting married?” you ask Christabel.

“The most unique, picturesque, atmospheric place in the entire state of Louisiana, I’m sure of it.”

“We took a drive to visit that church you mentioned,” Alicent says to you. “And it was absolutely perfect. None of our guest will have ever seen anything like it. And it’s so historic! Over 150 years old! The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens.”

Amir squeals, a distressed mewing that he stifles with a feigned cough into his elbow. You stand shellshocked for a few seconds before managing a generic encouragement: “Really! Wow! Amazing! Great!”

Now Christabel is rather melancholy again. She scrutinizes her engagement ring, a large teardrop emerald with a gold band. Her voice is low, like she’s talking to herself. “I just wish…I don’t know. That we had more time together before the wedding, I suppose. Then I think I’d feel like I had more of a handle on things. It’s all been such a whirlwind, such a shock. A good shock, but still. We hardly know each other.”

Alicent prompts her: “You care for Aemond, don’t you, dear?”

“I’m in awe of him,” Christabel replies, a little dazed, a little defenseless. “He’s so clever and gallant. He’s the most inspiring man I’ve ever known. And the scar…it gives him quite a roguish look, doesn’t it? Like a Bond villain. It’s not a detriment in the least.”

“Yes, yes,” Alicent says impatiently, like she’s waiting for the conversation to be over. “Then there’s nothing more to worry about. You care for him, he cares for you, and you’ll have the honeymoon to get better acquainted. Criston, would you go outside and start the Lexus, please?” He dutifully departs.

Honeymoon. Your stomach lurches, the sea in a storm. You can see Aemond’s hands on Christabel’s face, in her hair, skating up her bare thighs. You can hear him moaning her name.

“We’re going to Greece,” Christabel informs you, thinking she’s being polite. “Athens, Mykonos, Santorini, and Corfu. Have you ever been?”

I’ve never been anywhere. But instead you say, forcing a smile: “Not yet.”

When Christabel, Alicent, and Criston have gone, you look to Amir. Your blood has turned to cement: cold, heavy, immobile, trapped. “You realize she’s getting my wedding, right? The one I always wanted. The wildflowers. The candles. The chapel.”

“And she’ll even be taking your favorite dick home at the end of the night.”

You cover your face with both hands and shake your head, trying to clear it, to drive out mirages of someone else’s oasis. This can’t be real. I can’t handle it, I can’t survive it.

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, gently now: “If we’re catering dessert, we’ll have to go to the wedding. The rehearsal dinner too.”

“Why would they want that? How can they not see how insanely awkward and wrong this is?”

He shrugs. “They probably think it’s normal. Wasn’t Camilla at Charles and Diana’s wedding?”

“If one more person tries to talk to me about Camilla Parker Bowles, I’m going to feed myself to the gator.”

“You’ll have to come to terms with it or you’ll have to end it. Those are the only options.”

“Yeah.” And it’s not just about me. It’s Cadi’s life too.

Amir sits down at the kitchen table, crosses one leg over the other, kicks his foot nervously. He rests an elbow on the tabletop and his chin on the knuckles of his left hand. “I hate to give you more bad news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. You’ve been dreading it for months. “You have enough money saved for San Franscisco.”

“I do.”

You exhale, your shoulders collapsing, tapping your fingertips against the counter. The air conditioner whirrs; the cicadas shriek in the trees outside. The house is hushed and still. Cadi is away at horse camp. Each day you receive a postcard in the mail that you assume the employees forced her to write at gunpoint. “When are you leaving?”

“The end of July. I’ll wait until after the wedding, once all the dust has settled. But I can’t wait any longer than that.”

“I want you to be happy,” you say. “I really do. But I’m going to miss you so much. You’ve been my best friend for a decade. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a partner in life.”

Amir smiles faintly. “Come over here.”

When you sit beside him, he takes your hands in his; and you remember how he visited you in the hospital after Cadi was born, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers he picked himself and a Tupperware container full of crawfish pistolettes. He had been just a casual friend before you found out you were pregnant, one of a group, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t keep him at an arm’s length. Amir was different, and not in a way that you fully understood or accepted yet. But he was the only friend who had no judgment for you when you told him you were pregnant, who cared about how you felt, who wanted to be a part of whatever would happen next. He was the only one who stayed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Amir tells you. “I’ve never even been on a date, not once. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had sex that wasn’t a one night stand in a New Orleans club or the back seat of my Ford Escort because those were the only places we had to go. And I’m starting to believe that people like me can’t have more than that. So I have to go someplace where I can have more, where I will have more. I don’t want love to be something that only other people get to experience. I don’t want to be afraid of leaving my house after dark or wake up every day wondering if someone has broken a window out of my car again. I have to go. There’s no future for me here. If I stay in Napoleonville, this place will kill me, one way or the other.”

Okay, you think. I can let him go. After everything he’s done for me, this is how I can be the friend that he deserves in return. “You should leave, Amir,” you say, tears stinging in your eyes. “I hear you, I understand you. I just wish I could go with you.”

“No, don’t cry, don’t cry! This isn’t the end. I’ll fly back to visit, you know that. Grandma’s still here, you and Cadi are here. And you can visit me too. Maybe you’ll even settle down on the West Coast someday. Eight more years and you’re free.”

You try to imagine your life then: Cadi headed off to college—and she will go to college, you’ve already decided that—and your tether to Willis weakened, closer to 40 years old than 30, Aemond and Christabel nearing their anniversary. How many children will they have by then? Three? Four? And the Lake Verret project will be well-established and no longer in need of so much of Aemond’s attention, and the house they call The Last Desire will sit empty on the lakeshore, warm draughts breathing through it like blood in veins. “I wouldn’t know how to exist anywhere else.”

“You’d learn,” Amir says confidently. “Now, have you ever made a Napoleon cake before?”

“I don’t think so. Not that I can remember.” You consider this. “My mom might have a recipe lying around somewhere. I’ll call and ask her.”

“Yes, do that,” Amir agrees. “If she doesn’t, I’ll try to dig one up at the library. We’ll want to have a few practice runs before the rehearsal dinner. Gotta impress the Rockefellers and their soulless millionaire ilk. Unless you were planning to have a homicidal meltdown and make the custard out of antifreeze or something.”

You chuckle. “No. Probably not.”

“It would be difficult to blame you.” And he turns on the little pink Panasonic radio: Alone by Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a spacious corner booth of the Olive Garden in Gonzales, Aemond is talking about Lake Verret as you pick at your Tour of Italy and Frank Sinatra pipes through the speakers. You could swear they have the same three songs playing on a loop: Fly Me To The Moon, My Way, Luck Be A Lady, back to outer space again.

“But by total coincidence, Daeron has been researching desalination techniques for his latest article. Apparently there are ways to try to mitigate the damage and reduce the brackishness of the water, so we’re going to be—”

Abruptly, you ask: “Where does Christabel think you are right now?”

Aemond’s forehead crinkles, his fork hovers above his plate of herb-grilled salmon. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and his Marlboro jacket, jeans, Adidas sneakers. “Why do you care?”

“She’s getting the wedding I always wanted, did you even notice? She’s getting married at the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens in Belle River. She’s getting wildflowers and flickering candles.” And she’s getting you too.

“Okay,” Aemond says slowly. “I’m not involved in any of that.”

“I think you are, actually, because you’re kind of the groom.”

“But I don’t do the wedding planning,” he insists. “I have no idea what Christabel has arranged. My job is to be there on the day in a suit and that’s just about the extent of the real estate it takes up in my brain.”

“She’s never mentioned any of that to you? Not once? You’d swear on your life?”

He sets down his fork with a clang and stares fixedly at you. Your waitress glances over from several tables away where she is refilling a couple’s sweet tea glasses. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry you had good ideas and other people liked them. It fucking sucks that you didn’t get the wedding you wanted when you were seventeen. But that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know you yet, and you didn’t know me. You can’t blame me for what Willis or anyone else did.”

“But it’s not fair,” you choke out, sounding weak and juvenile, and you hate it but you can’t stop. “I understand that you’re marrying her, I get that, but she can’t have everything.”

“Look…” Aemond laces his hands together on top of the table, and his voice softens. “Even if Christabel didn’t exist, even if you were from my world, even if you were a duchess or a socialite or the daughter of the president of the United States of America, I still couldn’t marry you.”

You scoff; it’s despicable. “Because of Cadi?”

“No,” Aemond says, like that’s preposterous, like he’d never consider her to be a liability. “Because I have to have heirs.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss with vitriol that stuns him. Now the waitress is gawking. “You’re going to manipulate Christabel into walking down that aisle and then immediately get her pregnant?”

“Why are you mad at me?! I’m listening to you, I’m respecting you! You don’t want to have any more children of your own, fine, completely reasonable, I would never ask you to have a baby and go through all of that again for the sake of the Targaryen dynasty, but somebody has to!”

“You really don’t understand why I would empathize with a teenage girl trying to raise a child when she’s lonely and exhausted and confused about why the man she married isn’t turning out to be who she expected?”

Aemond shakes his head like it’s not a valid comparison. “She wants this.”

“She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t understand what she’s signing up for.”

“Everyone from a family like mine goes through this,” Aemond says. “My grandparents did, my mum and dad did, Aegon did, even bloody Charles and Diana did, and now it’s my turn. There are growing pains, but people adjust and it all works out eventually. Christabel will learn to manage her expectations, and once the children are born she can find happiness wherever and with whoever she wants to.”

“But you’ll be with her,” you forced out, voice fracturing, and at first Aemond doesn’t grasp what you mean. “You’ll…you’ll sleep with her. You’ll touch her, you’ll kiss her, you’ll do everything with her.”

“Surely you, as someone who called up a stranger from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal, comprehends that sex can be a solely physical act under the right circumstances.”

“So what, you’ll fuck me and then go home to her? Or you’ll fuck her and come home to me? And I’m supposed to live like that?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s simple, like it’s easy.

You gaze morosely out of the restaurant window. In the distance is a Dollar General, a Burger King, the Kmart where you had to buy your own engagement ring.

“Do you want me to tell Christabel to change the wedding?”

“No.”

“Because if I tell her to pick a new venue, new flowers, new cakes, whatever, she’ll do it.”

“No. She likes her wedding. I can’t take that away from her. She thinks I’m her friend.”

“Cupcake,” Aemond says, tenderly now. You turn back to him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m going to be gone for a while, four or five days. I have to fly to Norway and inspect some of the offshore rigs we have up there.”

“In the North Sea?” you ask, alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I mean, it’s oil drilling. It’s one of the most deadly professions in the world. But that’s how we built our fortune, our legacy. I’ve survived before, I’m sure I will again. If you need anything while I’m gone, you can call the house. Criston knows that you’re to be taken care of.”

“No one else can go to Norway instead of you?”

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my responsibility.”

“Because Viserys told you to?”

“They amount to the same thing.”

“I don’t think you should listen to him.”

“I have to go,” Aemond says again. He takes out his wallet and lays $30 on the table. “But there’s something I need to show you first.”

As Aemond’s red Audi Quattro barrels down Route 70 southbound towards Napoleonville, you say very little to each other. Once you were strangers, and the words flowed easily and your bodies intertwined with effortless need, and now you have known each other for nearly two months and shared days and nights and confessions and yet every ghost filled up the space between you until it was a splinter, a gap, a gulf, a chasm. You miss the person he was when he showed up on your sloping, creaking porch steps back in May. You miss the person you were before you found out about Christabel.

A Men At Work song comes on the car radio, and it takes you a moment to figure out which one. It’s Down Under, a bewildering hit from 1981. “I never understood this song,” you say, staring through the open window as a jungle of southern live oaks, dogwoods, and cypresses rolls by. Rivulets of opaque, slow-moving bayou water snake through the wild green. Pelicans flap their wings in the pink-golden dusk sky. “What’s a head full of zombie? What’s a Vegemite sandwich?”

Aemond laughs, a smoldering Marlboro Red nestled in his left hand. You wonder if once he’s married he’ll wear a gold band on his ring finger, if he’ll take it off when he cheats with you. “Cupcake, it’s obviously about Australia.”

“What?”

“Down Under? As in, literally below the rest of us in the Southern Hemisphere? Head full of zombie means they’ve been smoking weed. Vegemite is a kind of yeast spread they put on sandwiches. I’ve had it, it’s disgusting. The whole song is in Australian slang. Everyone knows it’s about Australia.”

I didn’t. You look out your window again. Aemond takes note and swiftly backpedals.

“But I mean, I can see how an American wouldn’t know that. No big deal, okay? To anyone in the Commonwealth, Australia is like our fuckup sibling. It’s our Aegon. But you guys probably don’t really learn about Australia in school. So…yeah. It’s probably not as obvious as I assumed.”

“Maybe I missed that lesson,” you say. Maybe I missed that year.

In a brand new neighborhood just outside the town center of Napoleonville, Aemond parks in the paved driveway of a ranch house on a three or four acre lot. The yard is bordered by a white masonry fence with chicken wire around the base to keep snakes and gators out. There are a few dogwood and bay laurel trees, and one monstrous southern live oak that’s probably two hundred years old. Aemond cuts the Audi Quattro’s engine and steps out into the twilight.

“Aemond? What are we doing here?”

“Follow me.”

“Why?”

He walks around to your side of the car, opens the door, and leans down to grab your face with his right hand, his fingers hooked around the curve of your jaw. Instantly, there is a bolt down your spine: hunger, warmth, weakness, momentum that is thoughtless like falling from a great height. “Follow me,” he repeats, grinning mischievously. “Right now.”

Aemond has a key that unlocks the front door. Inside is rose pink carpeting and mauve walls, a sunken conversation pit, popcorn ceilings, mini blinds on the windows, closet doors covered with mirrors. You can see your face reflected in them, puzzled.

“This is the living room, clearly,” Aemond says as he continues briskly through the house. As an afterthought, he kicks off his Adidas sneakers so he doesn’t track any dirt inside. You do the same, sliding off your cheap flats from Kmart. He points down a hallway. “There are two guest bedrooms down there, and then a big one at the other end of the house with its own private bath. Here’s the kitchen…” He leads you through it, mint green with pristine black and white tiles on the floor. “And over there is the dining room.” It’s a kind, golden yellow like dawn or sunset.

“Aemond, what—?”

“Bedroom next,” he interrupts, hurrying you along.

At the end of the hall, he opens a door to reveal a sprawling chamber. It is blue like his bedroom in the Targaryen mansion, but not a deep, vivid sapphire color; it is a pale blue like prairie flax or a clear midday sky. The carpet is lush and soft. There are mirrors on the ceiling.

“Those are optional,” Aemond clarifies, pointing upwards. “But personally, I like them.”

“Aemond, whose house is this?”

“It’s yours,” he says.

“It’s what?!”

“Well, technically, it isn’t yours quite yet,” he admits. “I bought it in cash, it will close in a week or two. At that point I’ll sell it to you for $1—the same price as one of your cupcakes, incidentally—and then it will officially be your house. And it doesn’t even have a sinking foundation or any alligators. Imagine the possibilities.”

“But…but…”

“Cadi’s bedroom is green, like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve been told the yard is big enough for one horse, or two very small horses. Ponies, I guess.”

“You cannot buy me a house,” you say, aghast.

“I think I already did.” He holds out the key to you, resting in his palm among lines of prophesy.

You are paralyzed; it takes you forever to find your words. “Aemond, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift, not a trade,” he says, the key still lying in his outstretched hand. “Every cent I spend on you, every second I spend with you, is solely because I want to do it and for no other reason. There’s no obligation. There’s no quid pro quo. And that’s what I feel like you don’t understand. I have no logical reason to keep you in my life, absolutely none, aside from the fact that I want you to be here. And I want that with everything I’m made of. I never stop wanting it. So let me help you. Take the key. Take the house.”

His right eye is on you, imploring, commanding. At last, you lift the key from his palm. Studying it like the cryptic letter of a foreign language, you murmur: “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Aemond rakes his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up towards his, skims his lips feather-lightly from your cheekbone down to your lips—though he doesn’t kiss you, only ghosts his flesh over yours, a taste, a taunt—and then up to the curl of your ear. His whispered voice is colored with wicked scarlet desire. “You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do.”

If he yanked off your t-shirt you would let him. If he unzipped your denim shorts and slipped his artful fingers inside them he would find panties soaked through for him. You would let him do anything he wanted to you, here in this glass-fragile liminality before he becomes Christabel’s in law, in body, in inked and inerasable history. But it would not be because you want to, not because you feel ready in your bones, not because you trust him again. It would only be because you could not bring yourself to resist.

Aemond reads this on your face; he stops before you have to tell him to.

~~~~~~~~~~

On July 1st, Cascade Stables is swarming with parents as they descend upon the property to collect their children and meet the horses they’ve spent the past week with. There is a stereo somewhere blaring Your Love by The Outfield; apparently, this does not disturb the horses. You find Cadi beside the stall of a very tall, willowy beast, ears upright and alert, one bulging eye onyx and the other a striking icy blue. Its coat is white with a splattering of rust-colored stains. Even its mane and tail are comprised of alternating strands, dark, light, earth, clouds, cocoa powder, granulated sugar.

“His name is Patches,” Cadi tells you proudly as she pets the leviathan’s velvety muzzle. “He has a wall eye. And he’s a real handful and usually they only allow the experienced campers to ride him, but they let me try and he listened so well I got to keep him all week!”

“Wow, that’s incredible! Good job! Did you learn a lot about how to take care of him?”

“Yeah. They taught me how to feed Patches and clean his hooves and put a saddle on him. And how to hit him with a hairbrush when he tries to bite me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Right. Okay.”

“Can we buy him? He’s for sale. Probably because of all the biting.”

“Who, Patches?” You definitely cannot afford to board a horse; and then you remember the new house. “I’ll think about it.”

Cadi peeks around you. “Daddy isn’t here too?”

“No, honey, I’m sorry. He had to work. But he really wanted to see the horses and he is looking forward to hearing all about your adventures.” This is a lie—Willis seems only dimly aware of the concept of a horse camp, and he is staunchly incurious by nature—but a compassionate one.

Cadi accepts the explanation readily enough. “Alright. Is Aemond your boyfriend yet?”

“Um.” You thread the horse’s forelock through your fingers to buy yourself time. It seems unwise to try to deceive her again; Cadi will learn about Christabel sooner or later. “No, we’re still just friends.” You pause. She watches you, knowing there’s more. “Actually, he’s getting married this month.”

“What?!” Cadi is shocked, but she’s outraged too. “To who?!”

“To a nice lady named Christabel. And I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” Another lie. And you think for the first time: If I settle for being Aemond’s mistress, if I let it tear me to pieces…what am I teaching Cadi?

Your daughter doesn’t say anything for a long time. She pets Patches’ speckled face, her own expression tense and thoughtful, lines and worries that should be far beyond her age. At last she says quietly: “Is it because of me?”

You are mystified. “What, honey?”

“Is the reason why you and Aemond can’t get married because of me?”

There is a flash of crimson wrath in your skull—protective, animalistic, wronged on her behalf—but no one to direct it at. “No. No, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

Cadi shrugs, and you recognize it as her self-preservation, faux-flippant shrug. “I don’t know. One time I heard Michelle’s mom talking about how no decent man wants to deal with some other guy’s kids. And that’s me when I’m at your house. Another guy’s kid.”

Oh, fuck you, Janet. “No,” you say again. “Aemond likes you a lot, Cadi. He cares about you.” He picked out a house that could accommodate a horse for you. “You’re the opposite of a problem. He actually likes me more because of you, I think.”

“Okay.” And she’s relieved, although she’s trying not to show it. “Then why is he marrying someone else?”

“Well…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Where the hell do I start? “Aemond and I are very different people,” you tell Cadi. “And we want different things out of life. We like to spend time together, but that doesn’t mean that we’d be able to share our whole lives…homes, careers, values, everything. His family has a lot of expectations of him that I don’t feel right supporting, but Aemond wants to respect their rules. And, you know. He’s a robber baron.”

“But he doesn’t talk about Jade Dragon Energy or oil around me. He talks about history.”

You sigh, watching dust motes swirl through the hot, sunlit stable air, listening to horses nicker and huff. “I know, honey.”

“I don’t even think he wants to be a robber baron. I think he wants to be something else.”

“Like what?” you ask, picking stray bits of yellow straw out of her short, disheveled hair. And remarkably, Cadi tolerates this.

“I don’t know, just…just…” She battles with the words, then finds one she likes. “Free, I guess. Just free.”