#the secret language of bees

[pussy-ache]

.

#patience sits on your tongue heavy #and i wonder why mine is not still #i have never known language the way i knew that #and now i never will #the ferns are secret keepers #hiding what lies in the roots of the trees #kiss me blind to find #whether the sweet scent #is the honey or the bees

[tabbedtabby]

good luck, babe! | chapter 1

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by “good luck, babe!” by chappell roan. if you’ve never heard it, definitely check it out. updates will most likely be weekly. i don’t know how some of y’all have the time to update every day lol. as a general warning for the whole fic, it will contain homophobia, derogatory language, substance abuse, and unhealthy relationships. other than that thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this first chapter!!

—————————————————————

Entering your third year of high school, you assumed you knew everything there was to know about North Shore.

Well, at least, how to steer clear of infamy. More specifically, Regina George and her shadows that followed her around like a pair of lost dogs. You knew the trouble and attention they brought with them, a constant trail of destruction that was almost as potent as the stench of their perfume. The secret to avoiding it was as simple as straying from the limelight. You kept to your group, stayed quiet, kept your head down. Didn’t do anything wild enough to trigger Regina’s predatory instincts. You couldn’t say you were afraid of her and her group, but honestly, harassment is the last thing you need as North Shore’s token plug. It would be plain stupid to garner more attention to yourself than necessary.

But even with all of that in mind, here you are, sitting in the principal’s office with enough anger in your chest to probably strangle the man sitting in front of you. Because you didn’t even fucking do what you’re being penalized for. But guess who told Mr. Duvall that you were taking pictures of girls changing in gym? Regina George. She could make up whatever she wanted and even the authority figures at this school would treat it like it was the holy grail. You stare at him with venom in your eyes as he explains to you that you will have to be suspended. For something you didn’t even do.

Regina was in your gym class. You had heard around that she was spreading rumors about you being a lesbian, but that’s not new information to literally anyone, so you didn’t especially care. Then people started giving you disgusted looks in the hallways, calling you some really nasty names, and even some of your close female friends started to avoid you. You didn’t know why until about 10 minutes ago. Apparently, you were the last person to know about your supposed photo collection.

When Mr. Duvall finally lets you leave, you feel the rage boil up inside of you before you can stop it. You’re going to get in so much trouble at home, and for what? Because the world’s most spoiled brat decided your reputation was the one to ruin this week? Does she even realize how her rumors can affect people? Obviously not, because she does it all the fucking time.

You’re way late to lunch, but the moment you step into that cafeteria, it’s like a wild dog being released into the ring. You skip on the lunch line and head straight towards the table where you see Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners talking with wide eyes to the blonde head of hair with her back to you. Regina. You lock on like a target, not glancing at anything else surrounding you. Your hands are bunched into fists at your sides as the anger rises up in your throat like bile. How dare she? How dare she completely make up this bullshit about you, get you suspended because of it? And why hasn’t anyone actually done something about it?

You see her turn around. Two ice blue eyes look up at you. Disgusted, maybe even a little confused as she sees you approaching her table. Because no one ever dares enter her territory. She thinks she’s above that. She doesn’t look at you more than a second, though, before your hands are ripping her off the bench by the collar of her shirt.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you practically snarl, your arms already dragging her towards the wall as you slam her against it. Your hands still grip the collar of her shirt, your anger almost palpable. You hear what you think to be Gretchen scream. The cafeteria descends into chaos around you. You don’t care. The only thing you’re concerned about is what’s in front of you right now.

Regina doesn’t even look slightly bothered. In fact, she cocks an eyebrow. Her eyes seem to glow with that malice now. Your hands grip the fabric of her shirt even tighter.

“Oh, no, did I hit a nerve?” she laughs, her eyes looking you over with a newfound disgust. Like you’re simply a piece of trash a wild animal found out it could not digest and spit back up. Like you’re beneath her. You hate the woman, but it’s almost impressive how controlled she is in moments like these.

“You’re just proving me right, you know. Just admit you’re the weird freak that everyone knows you are. I can’t stand a closet lesbo.” she sneers, pushing her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath on your face.

Something in you snaps when she says those words. Because it’s not even true, and you’re the only person who seems to believe that. The anger’s hot in your chest. Its flames seem to carry your arms as you ball your right hand into a fist.

And you punch the Queen Bee of North Shore directly in the eye.

-

Your suspension was extended. Obviously.

You spend the next 2 weeks cleaning the house until your fingers peel and keeping up with your school work on your computer. People are talking about your fight with Regina all over Instagram and Regina’s acting like a total victim about the whole thing. People sending her their condolences and all that bullshit. As if she was dying and didn’t only get one punch to the face before someone pulled you off of her. It was your health teacher from last year; he seemed a little too eager to grab you and pull you off of Regina.

When you return to school, it seems people still believe those rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing rooms, because your peers are giving you the same sort of looks as before. They clear away from you when you walk past, but not in the worshipful kind of way they do for Regina. More like they’re disgusted to be around you.

Some people are impressed you stood up to her, though. You’re the first of your time. Janis ‘Imi’ike from your AP Lit class gives you a high five in the morning and you give her a big grin in return.

You see Regina in your gym class after lunch, and she looks as good as new. You’re a little disappointed. You kind of wanted to see her with that bright purple bruise on her eye that you’d seen all over Instagram. But there she was, looking like the perfectly crafted Barbie doll that she always seemed to be. Not even a stand of flawless blonde hair out of place. It made you mad. It’s like you did it all for nothing.

To your surprise, though, Regina ignores you. She doesn’t whisper to her minions while giving you dirty looks from across the room, doesn’t send them after you with a raise of her finger. It’s like you’re invisible to her. Honestly, you prefer it that way. You’re tired enough of this whole situation as it is. It’s a godsend she’s not making it worse today.

Coach Carr takes you all outside since it’s one of the last warm days until fall. You stick your Airpods in and walk the track, still keeping an eye on Regina. It’s not like her to not torment someone who got suspended because of one of her rumors. You don’t trust it at all, but she seems content with pretending you don’t exist. Since Karen and Gretchen aren’t in this class with her, Regina resorts to talking to the girls who aren’t quite Plastic, but are still high enough on the social pyramid for Regina to tolerate. You roll your eyes as they mindlessly follow her lead like a pack of lion cubs.

After a couple of minutes, you get bored and sneak off to the woods surrounding the track. Your coach wasn’t the most attentive person in the world, so it was pretty easy. You needed to smoke or you were going to go insane. You take an Airpod out and grab the cart out of your bra. Have to keep it non-suspicious.

You only plan on taking a few hits since it’s so concentrated and you still have another class after this. You come out here so much that you don’t even think about it. Until you hear a voice behind you.

“Are you smoking weed?”

Your neck nearly snaps when you whip your head around. Your heart sinks back down to your chest from your throat when you see Regina George standing there instead of Coach Carr.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” you immediately respond, your voice wavering a bit as you hadn’t even considered someone had seen you slip out. The weed had just started to hit and you could feel it amplify the fear in your chest, even though Regina wasn’t technically immediate danger. Although, your heart begins to race faster as you realize she will definitely try to get you in deeper shit because of this.

Regina begins to open her mouth before you immediately cut her off. “Before you go and tell everyone on this side of the country, everyone already knows. It’s not gonna do anything to ruin my reputation.” Your voice shakes similarly to your legs out of the pure shock of her finding you. You hate feeling cornered, but after your little tussle with her, you know how badly Regina must want to destroy you. Her eyes stare at you unflinchingly, unaffected by what you said. She looks smug enough to make you nervous. You don’t know if it’s because of the weed or your pounding chest, but it seems like minutes pass before Regina says anything else.

“What about Mr. Duvall? Does he know?” Fuck. You’re not getting out of this, are you? Your mouth begins to dry, the spit thick on your tongue as you think of a response. Your dad was already mad enough at you. You didn’t need this.

“No. But I can’t imagine it’ll go well for you if you tell him. I sell to half the school, including Karen. Everyone will be pissed if I get caught.” you respond, already feeling defeated, but you keep your tone searing. You’re taller than her; hopefully it makes you intimidating enough for her to have mercy. Regina doesn’t respond right away. All she does is raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk on one side of her mouth as you watch her consider her options. She’s flawlessly gorgeous in a way that’s enviable. But you kind of need her to not take away your source of income.

“Look, I smoke behind the baseball field every day after school. I’ll give you some for free if you just keep your damn mouth shut for once.” Your voice is almost pleading now. You wish she wasn’t so dead-set on ruining your life.

Time only gets slower as Regina’s smirk begins to widen. It’s a win-win situation for her, and she knows it.

“Fine. But you better not try to kiss me or anything.” she says slowly, spitting out the words like they’re poisonous.

You feel the relief pool in your stomach as soon as you hear those words. It must be obvious by the look on your face, because Regina laughs at you. She has that angry, disgusted sort of look in her eyes that you can’t quite figure out the reason for. It’s a shame because she’s so beautiful. Your body takes multiple seconds to keep up with your thoughts until a question crosses your mind.

“Did you follow me?” you ask, your voice a little too loud as you see her head turn back around.

“Obviously. I knew you weren’t sneaking off to do anything good,” she shoots back, the repugnant expression back on her face. She curls her lip at you before stalking off back to the track field, blonde hair flowing behind her.

How the hell did she even see you leave? Maybe you weren’t the only one paying attention to what the other was doing after your fight with her. But, why? Did she seriously think you were going to try and swing at her on your first day back?

You guess you’ll find out at 3:00P.M. behind the baseball field.

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george 2024 #mean girls x reader #fem reader

[thefandomdirtymind]

Opla!sanji and a siren/mermaid???

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi anon ! Thank you for your request, as a big fan or mermaid/siren I was so thrill by the idea ! I had tried many things here and I hope you will like it !

The Mermaid Dream

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering - NSFW The Small Favor

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

---

The notorious floating restaurant The Baratie was, like every other night, completely full. At every table of the large dining room were sat the most famous and wanted Pirates. Adding to the hubbub of their conversation and squeaking of their utensils against their plates, the waiters, in a urge to offer the perfect service and then earn their tips, looked like a swarm of bees dancing around elegant honeycombs. 

The kitchen wasn't any more quiet. In every corner or the overheated room, the crew of cooks was running to prepare the many dishes ordered. Only stopping a millisecond to put the plates under the warming light and watch with nervous eyes if Zeff, the renowned chef and owner of the place, was preparing himself to punish somebody, hoping there wasn’t them.

Even the opened mouth of this unusual boat establishment, occupied by a respectable bar, was crowded and noisy. 

Nervously standing behind the luxurious burgundy velvet curtain, your palm sweaty, you briefly closed your eyes, trying to hear the sound of the wave crashing against the ship hull. It wasn't the first time you were performing for the Baratie. But, you knew that each time was risky. The mermaid folks weren’t still welcome everywhere, most of the population were scared of being bewitched by your voices and the others had used your people to commit crimes and atrocities.

It was why you always wore a long gown covering your temporary legs and politely declined any trace of liquid they would offer you. It only takes a drop of water or a stubborn scale and your life would be in immediate danger. Of course Zeff was aware of what you are and would never let nothing happen to you. But, you couldn’t only count on him to protect you, you had to be cautious.

“ Miss Y/N it’s time, everythings is okay ?“ A polite waiter asked you, the golden cord in his hand,ready to unveil you to the loaded room. Nodding of your head, opening your eyes, you let the noise of the water calm your last knocked nerve before lifting your head to face your public.

The first note of your song, played by the musicians behind you, starts to fill the now quiet hall. It was mostly for you a faceless audience, only a few were really counting : like his. 

Still dressed in his cook uniform, his back against the wall, arm crossed against his chest, Sanji was smiling, waiting for you to operate your tour de force. As you know, the blond sous chef had, so far, never missed one of your performances, even if it had meant being punished by his mentor.

Signing your song, your voice flowing like the water of a peaceful river to finish in a waterfall. You open your eyes under a thunder of applause. Still in his corner, Sanji was clapping his hand with fervor, his face radiant of joy like if he had just discovered a new method of cooking. 

Later that night, as you emerged yourself in the oversize bathtub of your personal dressing room, your fins resting on the copper border and the last scales on your breast taking his place. You smiled. You knew that you shouldn’t think of him, loving a human when you couldn’t keep a pair of legs longer than a few hours was ridiculous. However, you couldn’t stop yourself. Aside from Zeff, he was the only one knowing your secret and never made you feel uncomfortable about it.

Three knocks at the door extracted you from your thoughts followed by the sound of the key in the keyhole. You aren’t kept captive in the Baratie, but for your safety, Zeff had a long time ago asked you to lock the door, preventing anyone to simply walk on you as you were unable to freely move, stuck like a fish in a tank. Usually, your only visitor at these hours was the old chef coming to thank you for the show and often tell you stories about his time of piracy. 

But, it was Sanji who entered the room, this time dressed in a navy suit, a tray in his hand. 

“ Good evening Madam, I thought you should be famished after such an enchanting show “

“ I’m not really a Madam you know Sanji “ You smiled, amused even if the fact that you truly aren’t a human woman stung your heart a little.” I’m indeed hungry, thank you”  

“ Nonsense. You are more a lady than many that I had served in this crappy restaurant “ He replied, approaching the coffee table of the bath to put your plate and silverwares as he pulled himself a chair '' Salmon with his creamy lemon sauce, I prepared it myself with caution. “ 

“ It smells fantastique “ You smiled, lifting your upper body enough to be able to eat. “ Hmm, that's delicious, I truly had nothing like this in the whole sea” 

Here again, that proud smile was plastered on his face, making you regret your own nature as he looked at you eating his own kind of tour de force. The vicious cramps traveling your fins,was another. Trying to keep your expression blank, you couldn’t sadly stop the moan of pain you let escape after a particular strong one. 

“ What happened Miss Y/N, something wrong ?!” A concerned Sanji asked, his hand cripping the side of the tube, ready to take action and extract you of the water if needed. 

“ It's nothing, the side effect of being too long on two legs instead of…fins.” You confessed, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “ It takes me a lot of energy and control to keep the form of my legs, i’m just exhausted, it will be over  when I will leave after the closing of the restaurant” You reassured him, touched by his worried tone. 

“ I see, then why are you pushing yourself to do those shows if it’s hurt you afterward ? Does Zeff know ? “ 

Eating your dinner, you slowly nod of the head, remembering the first time the old man discovered you crying of pain in the tube. He had at first, like Sanji, been worried,but, hearring you out he had finally accepted the fact that he couldn’t make you change your mind.  

“ It’s worth it. For the moment I can’t, people aren’t ready yet, but one day, I want to sit on this stage in this form. I want people to know that they don’t have to be afraid of us. We can sing without bewitching them, we don’t chase them if they fall in the water. when we shed tears, it’s from pain, not to make a profit of their medicinal effect. That’s my dream, that one day I will be able to show people that we are good, not monsters. “

“ It’s an admirable dream “ Sanji smiled, a tenderness in his eyes.” If somebody is capable of such a thing it’s you.  After all you didn’t have to talk or sing, I had been spellbound the minute I saw you and I'm sure that the audience could say the same. “

Looking at his sincere face, you felt the warm sensation of hope blooming in your scaly chest. 

“ I would never use my magic on you, you know Sanji aren’t you ? “ You replied, wishing you had not misunderstood his words. 

“ I know, Madam. The things I feel every time I'm near you aren't an illusion, no lies could be that strong…” 

Your heart racing like if you were hunted by a shark, you gently placed your hand on his, tangling them affectionately. 

“ Sanji, would you walk me to the deck tonight…” You demanded. The walk, situated at the tail of the building, wasn’t very long, but it would let you spend a lot of time in his company before having to go back in the water. 

“As you wish Y/N “ He promised, watching your tangled hand. “ I should go, the restaurant will close soon and the old man will probably look out for me.”

“ See you later, I will wait for you outside, near your usual smoking place” You confirm, gripping the side of the tub in excitement. 

“ I will be there, see you later “ He replied before going out, leaving you alone to realize what just happened.

--

The half moon was high when Sanji got out of the closed Baratie.Without realizing it, he had replayed in his head every of your smile and phrases during your conversation, still amazed that you returned his affection.  But as he arrived at the meeting spot, his heart missed a beat. 

A hand against your mouth, flanked by two customers previously kicked out, you were fighting for your life, your fragile leg giving up under you as you tried to get yourself free.

“ Let her go now” He ordered, rage filling his veins. How could they dare touch your perfection and try to steal you from him.

“ Mate, go back inside mind your own business !” One of the pirates replied, trying to move you.  

“ I say, let her go. “ Sanji repeated, taking his fighting stance. The men were larger and heavier than him, but with his training and under your terrified gaze, he couldn’t lose. 

It didn’t take long to put them down. Sadly, you join them when your knees buckle due to the loss of energy. 

“ Y/N are you okay ? “ The blond jumped, catching you.

“ Yes I…need the water...I…I’m sorry” You said, tears filling your eyes. “ They said somebody saw me coming out of the water, they were waiting for me, Sanji…I can’t sing here anymore…” 

“ I will inform the old man, he will find the person and you will be able to sing here as long as you want.” He promised, caressing the side of your face. “ Let me put you in the water, your skin is cold and you shake of exhaustion  “ 

“ No wait I wanted...I wanted to…never mind” You said, avoiding his gaze as your legs disappeared. 

“ What ? Tell me  “ He insisted. 

“ I wanted to kiss you…during the time I have legs…like a normal girl but…they're gone…I’m sorry it’s stupid.”  You sigh, embarrassed. 

“ A normal girl…Madam, don’t lower yourself to that, you’re fantastic as you are and I would never want anything else. Now if you let me “ He reassured you, lifting you in his arms in a bridal style before gently putting his lips against yours.  

Kissing him was like breathing underwater :soft,warm and perfect. As he gently retreated his mouth, you could still see that something was in this thought. 

“ You can sing here as much as you want but…I think I have a proposition for you. Yesterday a guy offered me a place in his crew, the Old man pushed me to go for it…find the All blue.  Please, come with me…You could show people like you wanted that you not what they thought, I will protect you and these crew seem really good” 

The offer takes you by surprise, you never could imagine The Baratie without him. In fact, you couldn’t imagine yourself singing there anymore if he wasn’t even there to watch you perform, nor could you think of your life without him in it. 

“ Okay, if they accept me I will follow you” 

—

The straw hat crew didn’t just accept you, you became a member of the group. 

Swimming  along the boat, signaling at Sanji to be ready,you take some speed and jump grabbing the dangling rope, letting you perform Luffy's favorite number : The flying mermaid.

Helped by your previous momentum, you rise above the lower deck and fall in the arm of Sanji, always waiting to catch his precious mermaid.

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece netflix #opla sanji #opla #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #Sanji Request #Taz Skylar #opla sanji x reader

[ghost-bxrd]

So with Fae!Dick, we all know that Bruce is just… not gonna say anything bc of his own mental health, but do you think the other batkids notice anything once they come along?

On one hand, I think someone would have to notice. If not Jason, then Tim, Steph, Barbara, or Damian bc, well, they’re BATS. They literally have been trained to notice things.

On the other hand, though, I think it would be HILARIOUS if they just attributed Dick’s Fae nature to him just being weird. Like, completely unaware he isn’t human. Maybe not entirely realistic but I think it leaves for some interesting comedic moments 😅

Honestly at one point I think it all devolves into plausible deniability. 😭😂

Jason is the first to notice something amiss, obviously. But he joins Bruce in pretending it‘s just Dick‘s general weirdness. After all, as long as the dog just howls once in a while it’s not necessarily a wolf, right? And Dick, after the initial hang up and trying to kill him a little, is sweet as a summer‘s day to him and viciously protective to boot. Galas and all the rich people there that used to treat Jason like a circus animal aren’t a problem anymore because Dick always swoops in like a bat out of hell and distracts the creepy old ladies with a charming smile until they walk away with vacant eyes. It‘s all pretty funny. And very weird. But hey, Jason gets a laugh out of it and that secretive little grin from Dick so whatever.

Tim I headcanon has Dick all figured out within a month of officially meeting him (the opposite of this would be Tim never figuring it out which is also kinda funny and just attributing it to his circus past or something) and is veeery cautious about interacting with Dick for a time. It makes Dick kind of sad and Tim can only withstand the puppy eyes so long until he caves.

Steph just kinda shrugs and accepts Dick‘s strangeness at face value. It ain’t hurting her so why should she bother? Dick is cool. She likes Dick. End of story, thank you and good day. And yeah, fine, some of his habits are downright weird and everything but who is she to judge? And he‘s always down to cause mischief with her which is?? Super cool???? Even the more devious pranks she can bribe him into joining by handing him a jar of fresh honey or hand picked fruit!! Anybody trying to say shit about Dick lands them on her hit list, period.

Cass is Cass. Nobody can fool her. She may not know what Dick is, but she‘s painfully aware he‘s other. Most wildlife treats him like bees would their queen, there‘s always the scent of pines and rain following him. Dick‘s body language says ‘playful-content-happy’ but his eyes say ‘dark-dangerous-predator’. It’s all very conflicting; a study of contradictions. Cass learns to go by what his body language says and quickly finds a kindred spirit in Dick, who somehow always seems to know exactly what she tries to express but has trouble translating into words.

I headcanon Damian grew up with folklore so while his first theory may not be “fae” he definitely has Dick down as something other than human. Which means he must be powerful. Which means Damian must keep himself in Dick’s good graces in the hopes of making the creature teach him how to be powerful in turn. And, well, the kid grew up with a grandad that regularly takes dips in a magical swimming pool. I don’t think there’s much that can genuinely shock him lol.

Duke is… well, he’s the sensible one so of course he’s the first one to actually ask questions. And then proceeds to go nearly insane because??? Nobody seems to?? Care???? That Dick just rotated his head a full 360°???? Or that the manor sure af isn’t supposed to??? Randomly add hallways???? Or that there’s a whole ass SWAMP that appeared in the basement overnight???? Or a door that leads straight into the forest?????? Duke very nearly nopes the hell out because that’s too much even for him. But finally, finally someone takes pity on him (I headcanon it’s Cass) and she doesn’t explain anything per se, she just kind of… shows Duke. Shows him around the manor, introduces him to twisting halls and strange rooms, takes him to where Dick is lounging with the rest of the family, purring like a content cat. And Duke still doesn’t understand, not completely, but Dick smiles at him with too many, too sharp teeth and tugs him into the huge cuddle pile and?? Are those feathers on his neck?? No, he must have imagined it. Anyway, Duke thinks he can handle this… strangeness, if it scores him a family like this. It’s Gotham, right? Weirder things happen here on the daily.

Omg this turned into a whole ass essay I’m so sorry 😰😅😭✨

#ghost talks #fae dick grayson #faerie folk #the other things #pagan folklore #the things from the woods #the ones that grin from darkness #the birds with no feathers #the things that call between the trees #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #robin #batfam #bruce wayne #tim drake #red hood #duke thomas #stephanie brown #Cassandra Cain #Damian wayne #Damian al ghul

[farwayloner]

"Sweet Gardenia": The Bloom 🌺❄

Bi-Han X Cold!Reader

WARNINGS:

F!Reader, Pre-MK1 Campaign, No use of Y/N, Kinda slowburn, Overworking, a lot of flower metaphors, Mention of Starvation Tomas slander :( , Reader being stubborn, Bi-Han being soft.

For a better experience, listen to this song while reading. :)

A/N Note: THIS IS MY FIRST FANFIC. ANY FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED.

Seriously, this is the third time I've had to re-make this. I accidentally uploaded it first then I deleted it by accident.

This took forever to write! But thank you to my friend Gutsie for the feedback :)

I have had other projects that include writing so this not my first writing project.

A part 2 could come out if I have the motivation.

I might open a request page if not.

Expect many metaphors! I use a dictionary to enhance the words I occupy! Yeah i'm so good⁉️

My native language is not English, expect countless grammatical errors.

Enjoy!

-🌺

Gardenias, flowers that flourish and bloom with an inmense amount of rain, letting them bloom to fulfill their entire potential. Keeping their beauty far away from the sun, in solitude and coldness to fullfill the promise under the white shining moon. In a way to sink down back to the roots.

That is how you can describe yourself as, instead of broken piece of glass lying in a withered flower field that you truly knew you were.

A delicate flower, pushed to the edge by a will of steel. If not, a withered away chrysanrhemum.

You had endless ideas of what you could describe yourself. A total failure.

You saw in yourself a weed that needed to be pulled away by grief, to wither away. And stop existing.

That is what you only wanted. You had fulfilled your potential and that is what mattered the most. What more is there to this garden of existence? Your heart will still be locked away.. a cold persona taking it's place as a façade.. Hiding the true self you have inside. The frozen you, the one that needed to be thawed.

Yet here you were.. The grandmistress of a rising clan, built from the ground and already in the riches spectrum. It was nothing, but honest work.

A work fueled by your frustration of the past events, it already bloomed into success.

Under many stacks of paperwork, graced by the finest silks and materials.. You were yet unhappy. A productive life and success made your way, yet most would call you ungrateful, insecure..

Or ambitious.

You always kept up most nights if you didn't have the exhaustion to fall asleep instantly after a long day of working, to keep the utmost pace of your life. Yet you never slept. Never rested as if you were a.. stubborn camellia.

No one to walk beside you. This wealth made you more than unhappy. But no one was worthy of your affections. Other gardens tried to kindle with you and it caused you to push more away.

In younger years, you were a root that needed to grow, in a healthier way. Winding vines only made you slowly wither away, taking what you had at your sleeve.

Your heart. Locking it down tightly and never opening it again, for the sake of your happiness.

This pace would rather destroy what you have built rather than strengthen the bond.

You were going to last as long as a bee at this pace.

"It is not enough." You always thought to yourself.. keeping it deep inside the roots of your existence. It would forever be locked there until someone pulled the weeds.

A cold heart like yours isn't deserving of love.

That's what you always convinced yourself.

Undeserving.

Not enough.

Reassurance wasn't enough.

It never was.

-🌺

You stood beside your quarter's window, a view right to the beautiful-tended to garden and those foolish blood-colored gardenias outside your window.

They seemed to be communicating in a way to you, enjoying the calming sun as they bloomed and enjoyed the last clutches of autumn. As if their secret passion would let them survive the soon coming winter.

"Beautiful. Yet foolish." You muttered to yourself. Even after being alone, you kept to yourself.

Patience is key.

Flowers were always a fascination to you, you had decorated the gardens with many beautiful flowers that bloom around all year, but those gardenias.. they couldn't stay through the winter.

It only reminded you of yourself.

You knew that those flowers were beautiful, the red color was one of the most beautiful. Yet you felt jealousy at the bloody flowers. You wouldn't indulge in those.. passions that they are meaning to, love.. partnership. The thought made you scowl, your façade falling apart.

Your clan was utmost important. The only sense of independence you had at the moment after escaping your planter's clutches, it gave you the position you have now. And you couldn't afford to lose it.

Ever.

Yet those frivolous arranged marriage proposals arrived each day at her clan's gates. How foolish to think that she would accept them. They only want her power, and her wealth. It only makes your patience wither away.

With a sigh, you returned back to work. Yet your thoughts kept going back and then. Was love truly deserving of one like you? Or that façade would bring you nowhere near a friendship?

You wouldn't indulge in those senses.. yet. As none have ever captured your heart after it has been locked away. The way to thaw it is unsure to you as well.

This continuous delusional thoughts kept you away from your work. You wouldn't tie yourself until your demise over a man who does not appreciate you. It would be a quick demise.

Yet,

You are losing hope on expanding the power and control you have over the lands. Even as you keep overworking yourself. You will have no other choice to marry the leader of another influential clan. It would be the true bad end.

But it is not alright to give up, yet. As hope will start. Winter is starting to arrive and it always arises new opportunities.

And your thoughts will always keep you to the bloody-colored flowers that mean passion and secret love. A visible furrow of eyebrows and scowled appeared on your face. You could already hear your mother scolding you due to the

"Not lady-like mannerisms".....

You really started to hate red.

-❄

The Lin Kuei.

A formidable yet stealthy warrior ninja clan that specializes in defending Earthrealm.

It's former grandmaster, had been very influential on the up-rise of the Lin Kuei. And brought it to the highest-bloom point.

Even at a low-profile state, the clan bloomed into a successful amount of wealth and power.

But the grandmaster's first-born son: Bi-Han, a snowdrop in a human mantle that was trained his entire childhood to become the grandmaster.

He did not seem to have his father's ideals.

He matured earlier than expected in a will of steel. Cold, calculating and unforgiving. Commonly referenced to a demon in human skin. His childhood being something he is ashamed off.

Bi-Han resents his father for his harsh treatment during his roots: Being referenced that weaknesses are a horrible mistake, relationships and friendships will only be distractions and cause weaknesses.

"Weaknesses are failures. Failures are unacceptable and you know of it." The former grandmaster's words were imprinted in Bi-Han's head. A common echo of reminder in those roots of his. How he resented that.. doddering-old man.

Bi-Han's frustration often caused him to snap at his brothers, who didn't receive the harsh training their father gave to him. Yet he felt guilty at his usual hurting words, but his duties and stress would be constantly eating him inside.

After the former grandmaster withered away, Bi-Han had taken the mantle of his father, wanting to bloom the Lin Kuei into a better glory than to protect Earthrealm.

No time for friendships, relationships.

Or his brothers.

His duty was the most important aspect in his life, trained for it since his birth. Having to constantly work on financial situations, scold recruits and warriors for the unsatisfactory performances. It was a harsh job.

But these recruits needed a vine to pull them back together. To teach them a lesson,

That they wouldn't forget.

Yet here was Bi-Han, in the cold winter of Articka, sharing a meal under the shining moon with his brothers.

He barely made time to "discuss duties" with them. But due to the accomodate weather and temperature, he made an up-most exception. Not that he would admit.

Bi-Han was deep in his thoughts, while his brothers enjoyed the steaming buns right in-front of him placed on the dinner table.

Though he made an attempt to ignore the simple delicasies. Bi-Han's concentrated gaze was staring right into the soul of a newly-grown nearby tree,that increased snow started to fall from.

He had a work-loaded week, and now he could enjoy respite digesting steaming buns with his brothers. A quiet respite if he could just enjoy it.

"Winter is very close by and times will get harsher." Bi-Han though to himself. Even after mastering Cryomancy, he must prepare for the harsh climate.

Not only for himself, but for the rest of Lin Kuei warriors.

Bi-Han was brought out of his thoughts when his blood-brother, Kuai Liang, spoke to catch his attention.

"I was analizing the climate. I apologise for the distractions." Bi-Han tried to dismiss the subject with a wave of his hand.

He despised being seen as vulnerable. As if he was compared to a flower. Bi-Han scowled at the thought.

"Continue, Kuai Liang." Bi-Han said coldly, staring with thorns of long-frozen impatience at his adopted brother: Tomas, for a second.

Then back at Kuai Liang. With the same gaze.

Kuai Liang cleared his throat, his high body warmth due to his Pyromancy abilities, was now warming the garden of the conversation.

The frozen flowers showed cracks and they shattered due to the unusual cold. Which Bi-Han managed to ignore with no hesitation.

"Now that you have become grandmaster,

I believe that someone could join to command the Lin Kuei by your side, Brother." Kuai Liang sounded slightly hesitant.

Bi-Han raised an eyebrow. His icy malice fading by the moment.

"Explain yourself, Kuai Liang." Bi-Han crossed his arms with a questioning look, any more nonsense and he would explode, as a caterpillar out of it's metamorphosis phase. A resentment about to push out in an avalanche.

"..." Kuai Liang sighed.

"A partner by your side... Someone to be there.. emotionally and physically." Kuai Liang sounded more confident. Bi-Han allowed himself to root a strange.. considering glint in his eyes.

But before Bi-Han could respond with a snarky comment as usual, Tomas chided in.

"By what he means, is a wife by your side, Bi-Han." Bi-Han stood up abruptly, startling the two brothers.

Bi-Han glared at the both of them, and more harshly at Tomas. His tone was meant to bite deeply.

"Dismiss that nonsense, Tomas!" Bi-Han said while pointing a finger to the two of them.

"You know nothing of what is good for me."

Bi-Han directed his finger to himself.

"Only I do."

After the harsh snap, Bi-Han sat back down and digged into a steaming bun. His gaze moving away from the brothers.

Kuai Liang gave a "I am used to this" stare, and then gazed assuringly at Tomas who seemed taken aback.

Kuai Liang stood up and approached Bi-Han, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Brother.. It could give the clan more glory. The freedom you truly want it to have.. It is not a weakness, but a benefit." Kuai Liang said reassuringly while Bi-Han only responded with an unamused stare.

Then Bi-Han looked down, considering.

"The Lin Kuei requires my focus more than anything else." His tone was more composed.

"Any weakness or distraction will cause failure." Bi-Han continued still composed, the iceberg seemed about to break. "And all types of failure are unacceptable."

Tomas went in to defend Kuai Liang. His tone more.. Desperate and he gulped afterwards.

"Bi-Han, I am aware that you are seeking perfection.. yet you fear failure more than everything else." Tomas tried to reassure Bi-Han, but the latter responded with a glare and a slam on the table.

He had enough.

"Hold that tongue if you wish to keep it, Tomas." Bi-Han said very harshly. "I have no intentions of discussing this." Bi-Han left the icy gardens.. Leaving Tomas and Kuai Liang with disappointment.

Bi-Han was sat down on his office.. Feeling guilty after snapping again to his brothers. On that same damn chair that he always hunched over and got all his back pains from. How he'd wish to freeze it, and throw it to somewhere else to be never seen.

How he'd wish he'd get out of his head those foolish delusional thoughts. To stop snapping at his brothers and not consider Kuai Liang's proposal.

Bi-Han really thought.. Is he really ache-ing for a love he probably doesn't even know he really requires? Or.. deserves.

If he did, he only wished for a loyal partner.

A woman fit to his needs.. Not someone weak, someone who had a will of steel similar to his. A gaze that defies nature. Someone who he would trust entirely, to the point of worship. Yet he didn't wish to show it as a weakness.

He wanted to nurture those seeds if he did manage to get attached. He knew it was unlikely, but all he wished is for the new blossoms to open.

Appearances were everything.

It truly made him want to rip everything apart.

But his duties are always the up-most important. Nothing will change his ways.

Maybe another day, another life or another moment, he could indulge in those thoughts. But for now, the Lin Kuei were up-most important.

Even if it cost him everything.

-🌺

You held in your hands yet another rejected arranged marriage proposal.

The sun had fallen, and the sweet breeze of the evening had turned to the strong yet comforting mantle that arrived each winter.

Yet another clan has tried to bring down yours after you rejected their arranged marriage proposal.

It is not a surprise either. It has happened way too many times to count.

"These power-hungry fools." You knew you had no chance at this point. You had to marry into a clan and bloom ever more.

As a clan leader, your duties were always destined to benefit your future and not handle the past.

Yet you had to find the proper one.

You decided to check onto the many arranged marriage deals.. many were asking for 75% of revenue from your clan. That made you wince.

You have denied the blossom of any deep feelings, causing many of your stress and emotional unhappiness.

The gardenias outside your window didn't have the "positive" aura they once had. As if the cold winter had affected their once up-bright bloom.

Reminded you of someone.

And it kept you intrigued, contemplating the idea to investigate flowers once you have cleared your duties out of your schedule.

You will never catch a break at this point.

But for the sake of the clan, you will start to meet the one who will thaw that frozen flower within you.

To find the only worthy one, but only time would tell.

Once dawn arrived,

You would be ready to let the seeds grow.

For your sake.

-❄

The Lin Kuei temple was bustling with noise of the recruits trying to blossom their fighting techniques. On the quieter side,

Bi-Han was working on his office, handling important matters that were very indeed important, but not very important enough to mention. When Sektor entered his office with a paper on his hands. Bi-Han welcomed him in with only a stare and let him speak,

Crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze unamused as prepared to hear Sektor's usual ramblings.

"Well then." Bi-Han said slightly impatient.

"Grandmaster.. I assume you had accepted Kuai Liang's proposal?" Sektor said calmly as he placed the paper on Bi-Han's desk, letting him inspect the paper.

Bi-Han quirked an eyebrow.

"This, is a clan that Cyrax and I have been observing for the past 3 months." Sektor explained calmly once again, with backups of evidence slipping by. "Their financial debates and the way they continuously continue to grow is outstanding." Sektor looked Bi-Han, asking for approval on to keep rambling.

"...Very well. Keep explaining." Bi-Han's tone was one of interest. He inspected the paper, and nodded as Sektor spoke.

The lower part of the paper read as:

'The only way to affiliate as such is for the current leaders of the clans to conclude a marriage.' Bi-Han furrowed his eyebrows and then looked at Sektor who continued on rambling about how the clan's leader intellect was one of "other realms".

Yet, Sektor continued to explain.

"It is run by a woman. We haven't managed to collect any information from her. But from what we have.. investigated, is that she is a formidable business-partner.

It would make her intellect run the financial parts, and your strength to run the troops."

"This plan would make the clan bloom intensively, Grandmaster." Sektor added,

As if trying to convince him. Sektor stood tall, a hand to his chest. He was loyal to his Grandmaster, no matter what.

Then grew another sentence asking for Bi-Han's approval. Snapping Bi-Han out of his considering thoughts.

"This is a chance we can't afford to lose."

Bi-Han thought for a moment. He knows he can't refuse. Yet Sektor's proposal echo'ed on Bi-Han's head.

This could be the greater chance for the Lin Kuei to have the freedom it deserves. Growing inmensively in power would bring it to what he always envisioned..

And to... accept Kuai Liang's proposal.. He wasn't completely against it.

It was perfect.

Bi-Han placed the paper back down on the desk and signed it.

"Very well. I will be looking forward to meet this.. Grandmistress." Bi-Han said with stoicness laced with unusual interest and handed it to Sektor.

"Send it to the Grandmistress of that clan and report if she accepts an arrangement." Bi-Han continued, he was shivering with anticipation.

This was the best chance he had gotten this far.

And winter had just started. And soon after, it would all bloom.

But together, perhaps, two steel willed lives like a gardenia and an icy snowdrop might shape their lives and their clans into a sturdy netherrock, undestructible and strong.

Only if the meeting went the right path, that was. Only time would tell if an alliance could bloom where only distrust once reigned supreme, or if these two flowers were destined to remain tied forever, until their demise.

Bi-Han couldn't wait.

-🌺

"Lin Kuei?" You repeated your advisor's words with a scowl.

"You are naming it as if it was stupid. It is not, my lady." Your advisor said reassuringly.

"This traditional Chinese clan is a very low-profiled one. Truly focusing on strength and power." You gazed at the signed paper by the grandmaster, Bi-Han.

Ninjas, you thought. Even though it referred at the members as "warriors."

How old-fashioned. Yet, the accidental grunt that you let out at the word was worth it.

This was going to be.. unusual unlike the other clans that have sent you arrangement proposals.

The Lin Kuei's grandmaster wanted to marry you. Like everyone else. You had to check what he required.. And what he was proposing in return.

He required 25% of your revenue. Acceptable, since the other clans required around 30% or higher. Which this situation caused an unusual tingle in your stomach.

...He required your skills? He didn't specify in the file. It seems it was not even written by himself.

And he was offering in return..

25% revenue of the Lin Kuei's profits... decent, yet acceptable.

Yet other thing caught your eye.

A grandmistress role, a chair-man position in the Lin Kuei... This was strange,

Indeed.

Most clans that came to offer, offered you a rather high rank and role, but none as high as to be an equal with the leader.

This caught your interest, indeed.

"A grab." You mumbled to yourself. Catching your advisor's attention.

You gazed back at your advisor, who was waiting for your opinion on the matter.

You blinked a few times from the lack of sleep. How long ago did you change your pillow's case..?

Whatever.

"My interest peaked. Do tell me more." You said a bit commanding, yet softly. You gazed back at the paper.

This paper had arrived by chance, unlike the many others that arrived at the clan's gates.

This one appeared on your window. The one that had direct view to those.. foolish gardenias.

Those.. Lin Kuei ninjas must have snuck here, how amusing.

You had to call your advisor for information on the matter. This Lin Kuei. Not open to the public eye.. no registry on your clan's archives.. The only way to gain information is having a meeting with the clan leader or a representative.

"The Lin Kuei's grandmaster is said to be a monster. Cold and unforgiving." Your advisor said with a hesitant voice.

"But as you have told me countless times.. You are not forbidden to marry and not blossom any feelings, my lady." You gazed back your advisor.

True words, as long as you helped your clan not falter by any means..

You would.

You stayed silent as your advisor continued to explain many of the benefits.

"I will keep it in mind." You replied with a calm conposture. "Send a messenger. I will have a.. peaceful meeting with this.. Bi-Han." His name sounded bitter on your tongue.

You had to meet a cold yeti, and you weren't afraid.

Only for the sake of your clan.

"Let's prepare some buns. I haven't ate in a few days." You said unamusingly.

Your advisor seemed worried.. You have not ate steamed buns in days..

Or you have not ate in days.

How foolish.

Let's hope winter doesn't crush the lilacs of your excitement.

Which you so try to deny.

-❄|🌺

The weather was.. emotional dropping to say the least.

The sky a neutral shade of gray smoke, a comforting aura yet taunting with the idea of possible rain.

You considered this weather to be the most.. relaxing. Yet productive. You mostly took days off on this type of weather, considering it a day for full respite.

Even if it quadripled your paperwork.

You were excited to say the least. You prepared your appearance decently. Because after the most work-loaded of days, your face would be puffy and tired.

Yet it was the perfect weather to start a meeting.

The wind was practically non-existent,

And you were preparing to meet the Lin Kuei's grandmaster. An optimal preparation was put in place. While you watched the gardeners arrange the many well-kept flowers..

Including those foolish blood-colored gardenias.

They were pretty to say the least.

Flowers were always a fascination to you. A visual break from the un-aesthetics of the common wither of winter and deterioration.

Yet winter had already arrived.. seeing how most of the beautiful trees had no leaves left in the roots.. The past dealings of autumn had left a temporal mark in their spare.

It gave you more than enough confidence to head through the meeting.

You were dressed rather formally, the room that you had prepared for the meeting was open, a large frame with direct access to the main gardens.

It was embroided with a dark-tone of high quality oak. With tall bookcases covering the walls of the room.

The room's large frame's purpose was only to gaze at which had withered away and which had survived winter's embrace.

Yet your attention kept away at that damned garden. How to not survive a winter?

Life is dependant on will and skill. Even those who do not possess skill survive through will alone. Otherwise, no will, pure skill.

What a blossom of thoughts had been keeping away the matters that needed to seed their way to your brain.

Your attention was called, chiding it away from your gaze to the mostly red-colored garden.

The room was finished.

And as you gazed at the many flowers,

As long as you kept denying it,

You could not deny your liking for the red gardenias.

But other flowers had your affections as well.

The room was ready and a table was placed, a chair on either sides. You took the one that had a view to the door and left the remaining one for the grandmaster. Purposelly doing so for the view, and sake of the well-kept garden.

It was a small but thoughtful detail.. Maybe ambitious?

You were never the type of person to show off the things in your pockets.

You sat down in the chair and prepared the documments that you wanted to present, in-case the meeting was successful and the idea of an arrange marriage was successful.

If the so-called "monster" was keen to your ideals or not.

You had a tea set on another table in the room in-case he was in the mood for a steaming cup of tea, many flavors and spices to keep it to his liking.

Your advisor went to encourage you.. The past meetings with other clan leaders were.. unsuccesful and awkward.

He had arrived.

But as you continued to gaze at the garden and the tea set somewhere along the room.. You decided that your idea was gonna take place first.

Bi-Han had arrived at the clan gates, Kuai Liang by his side.

Kuai Liang sighed seeing Bi-Han's confidence.

"I never imagined to see the day where you would try to conquer a woman's affections." Kuai Liang stared at Bi-Han who was gazing at the arquitecture of the place.

Bi-Han was unamused visibly by Kuai Liang's remark.

"Silence. It is for our good." Bi-Han's tone was composed, not meaning to hurt Kuai Liang.

Yet he re-directed his gaze to Kuai Liang with a nod.

"We shall enter. I am sure the grandmistress might be waiting for us." Bi-Han walked inside and Kuai Liang followed silently.

But Kuai Liang did not fail to notice the excitement laced in his tone, yet the raise in his eyebrows.

One of the clan members greeted them with a bow and leaded them to the meeting room..

And once Bi-Han opened the door...

You weren't there.

Kuai Liang and Bi-Han stepped inside in confusion. Was this the wrong room had they just entered?

The room seemed to be set up for a meeting and the scenery of the garden seemed appealing to the eyes.

They were in the according room.

Then they saw a figure, she entered the building with flowers on her hands, placing them with the spices sitting beside the multiple flavors of tea.

Her stance not faltering her resting face seemed unamused, to say the least.

There you were. You were grabbing the roses and jasmine flowers to give the tea flavors more variety.

It hurt your heart to cut off some of the bloomed delicacies, but for the sake of the meeting it was optimal.

You had to address them.. No time to slack.

You cleared your throat and turned to face the two masked men.

"Welcome.. I was not informed of an.. advisor." You said composed while re-directing your gaze to Kuai Liang. "Must we start?"

Kuai Liang bowed his head. "Grandmistress, you are mistaken. I am simply accompanying my brother." You nodded,

noticing of Bi-Han's lack of response and the penetrating stare he was pointing at you.

You stayed silent gazing at them for a few seconds then you gazed back at the tea.

"Tea? Most foreign flavors I have at my disposal." You said calmly as you looked for approval to prepare some tea.

Courtesy at it's finest. Tea was a great start.

"Pu'erh. With Mantao." Bi-Han said coldly, but composed. These were the only words he had said so far,

Meanwhile he stood beside Kuai Liang, who didn't seem to have much faith on Bi-Han.

"No, Thank you for the offer." Kuai Liang said gruffly yet friendly.

You nodded at their words, placing the boiling water into cups and starting to add the bags of tea.

You prepared some tea for yourself as well, Chamomille.. meant to calm your nerves in-case of any disagreement or anything that would stress you.

You brewed the tea and placed it on the table, placing the Pu'erh teacup with a spice of Mantao honey on Bi-Han's side of the table and your chamomille teacup on the side you were destined to sit.

Decent so far. A show of courtesy shown by your part.

"Please, sit down so we can begin." You say down calmly and composed. Your face showing calmness,

But a frigid composture that "can't" be cracked.

You gazed at Kuai Liang who was still standing.

"I apologise for the lack of seating. I was informed that this meeting would be entirely confidential." You let out a sigh at your words.

Kuai Liang hesitated.

"No need to apologise. I wasn't aware of my compa-" Kuai Liang was shut by Bi-Han's gaze.

Bi-Han had his mask on, so did Kuai Liang. But Kuai Liang knew that Bi-Han was scowling under the mask.

After all, Bi-Han had "convinced" him. In reality, obligated him. If not, Bi-Han would have dealt with this matter himself.

Bi-Han wanted none to know this.

He would be hysterical if his brother wasn't there to watch. He would ever not, admit that fact.

Bi-Han sat down, while Kuai Liang was standing awkwardly beside.

The yellow one's eyebrows were furrowed? No.. those were only the marks due to the constant frowning on his part. And Bi-Han seemed to have met the same predicament.

Bi-Han's eyebrows were relaxed. But his eyes, with a stern look were focused entirely on you, as if judging you. You started to speak, gazing back with a tone of admission. As if to show respect.

Shall it start.

"I am curious of the fact that a low-profiled clan seeks an alliance with one as mine." You crossed your arms over your chest. Bi-Han's gaze still piercing.

"The Lin Kuei especializes in stealth, force and commitment." Bi-Han didn't even acknowledge his tea.

The steam slowly fading away as the room's temperature went down by the minute.

You nodded at his words. He didn't mention power once. Most of the clan leaders mentioned how successful their clans were, yet the Lin Kuei were thriving with a health and development unlike any others and a humble response had surprised you.

"...It is great to hear. My advisor had informed me of the achievings of your clan." You drank the chamomille.. The soft yet strong flavor making you relax.

Meanwhile Bi-Han..

Bi-Han was feeling.. concerned. The Lin Kuei never had any sort of meetings like this in the past. His father had met his mother during a skirmish, saving her life and taking her in to the Lin Kuei.

As long as he knew, it was a tale that his mother used to tell him and his brothers to fall asleep.

"Foolish. That old man surely kidnapped and forced her against her will." Bi-Han's thoughts were always aggressive, to no surprise.

Yet Bi-Han stared at you as you spoke over the documents, speaking about possible benefits and the downfalls that could be caused.

He appreciated your determination for your duty.

It was rare to not see leaders slack off and live off their wealth. Yet you took that, threw it on the ground and set it on fire.

Your will was fascinating to Bi-Han. Even if he wouldn't show it. He kept his piercing stare.

You continued to speak, thinking that Bi-Han had absolutely no interest.

You kept your conversation. You seemed to be speaking alone as Bi-Han only gave back nods and barely spoken words. It unfuriated you yet it seemed to be progressing well.

"I am affirming that this agreement will not only bring power. Prosperity and humility are the most important aspect of a clan. Peace through framework is preferable than an endless chase of power."

You said calmly. Noticing how Bi-Han's gaze darkened.

He instantly furrowed his eyebrows.

"Power brings respect. More power no conflicts to being with." Bi-Han's tone was unintentionally harsher.

You narrowed your eyes.

"Power is not by any means a weapon. A word that exists on your mind to cause you ambition." You sighed.

"It is a true sense of strength that must be taken care off, carefully."

Bi-Han notably got more and more furious. It was obvious he was attempting to hold his composture in.

Kuai Liang seemed concerned too,

but knew nothing would calm his brother's rage.

It didn't stop Bi-Han.

"You work off weakness."

Bi-Han's true speech had risen up.

"Might alone will bring the 'humility' and 'prosperity' you seek. Only through wars and struggle." He continued.

"And if you are against violence then you are not fit to work with the Lin Kuei. Simple as that is."

Bi-Han spat out coldly. The disagreement had escalated.

You could barely keep your snarky remarks from your composture.

You had to end this.

"I am aware that the Lin Kuei work off might and power alone." You stood up abruptly.

Bi-Han's eyebrows both raised. It was a funny sight, to say the least.

"I was expecting a façade to get in my good side, grandmaster" You stared directly to in-between his eyebrows.

Your tone meant to show disappointment in the outcome of this meeting.

"Yet you have only shown your true colors."

Kuai Liang seemed panicked, looking at Bi-Han in a way to tell him to salvage this.

"This meeting is concluded. Leave."

You left to the gardens.. Passing by the red gardenias and letting out a grunt.

Even this garden was enough to fuel your anger.

You headed into the outsides of your clan..

In a way to soothe your nerves..

To the hidden forest glade within.

No distractions.

-🌺|❄

Bi-Han was distraught to say the least.

He had managed to ruin the chance to win the woman's affections and approval.

Now he had fully-lost the chance to gain it.

This could affect the Lin Kuei in a sort of way? If she decided to become an enemy.

Bi-Han simply stayed sat, he realized that he did not gaze even once at the cold tea in front of him.

He had been unintentionally having a lack of respect.

He hated this.

"Brother." Kuai Liang spoke after a minute of awkward silence. "If you don't go after her- You might lose your chance." Kuai Liang was nervous.

He had seen the entire disagreement pass by like a mannequin.. It hurt seeing how Bi-Han was messing it all over and not being able to intervene.

Bi-Han looked up at Kuai Liang.

"I suppose so." Bi-Han stared to the gardens, the multiple colored gardens with varieties he had not seen at the Lin Kuei..

A high-quantity of flowers that grow in gardens with higher temperature.

He had never seen a lotus flower. Only from the pictures his mother had shown him.

"Beautiful". He thought.

Bi-Han remembered the many topics his mother used to ramble about.

Flowers, especially.

He had acquired a great knowledge for gardening due to his mother's teaching.

He couldn't help but reminisce.

"Bi-Han, dear. Come here." Bi-Han heard his mother's voice call him out of the training with his brothers.

He would get scolded for leaving, but spending time with his mother was more important to him than anything.

"Come here." Bi-Han's mother took Bi-Han lithe form in his arms. She held a book and sat beside flowers on the well-tended to gardens in the snowy terrain that the Lin Kuei temple resided in.

Bi-Han was in for a long teaching.

"That, is a roseroot. Grows only in the highest of places. We occasionally place some of the leaves on our dishes." Bi-Han let himself root out a face of disgust and his mother chuckled. She stared lovingly to Bi-Han's interest.

She knew a break from his harsh training might do him well.

Bi-Han gazed at the droopy flowers close to his mother and then back at her.

"Oh? Those are Galanthus. Also known as Snowdrops, dear. You will see them all year, they surely love the snow."

Bi-Han paid attention to the entirety of his mother's teachings.

If Bi-Han couldn't admit it, he had such knowledge for such things as flowers. Which he would call "weak."

Now all he had left for the memory was his mother's flora research in the Lin Kuei's archives.

He would make usage of it one day.

He was sure of it.

Bi-Han was shook out of his memory and noticed Kuai Liang staring at him disapprovingly.

"Brother! You have to find her!" Kuai Liang seemed more desperate. Unusual due to his mastered patience at his brother's stubborness.

Bi-Han nodded and stood up. Running after the ominous clan leader.

He would make ammends.

It was for his clan after all.

You were sat in a tree trunk. The smokey gray sky still haunting your patience and you façade slowly dropping out. Your face in your hands.

Your hands felt like burning steel.

It hurt.

What did go wrong? You gave the up-most courtesy that you learnt over your entire life.

You knew respect was something primal, necessary for every lifetime interaction. Yet any fools that spoke to you were lacking of such formality.

Were you too cold? Maybe it could be cause.

He stared at you as if you were garbage,

A lifeless doll.

Like everyone else.

Your fury was undeniable.

As long as you kept it inside that locked heart, and no one tried opening to see the one memory hidden inside, it would maintain the peace you always kept.

You must not fracture.

This was only one of the many meetings that were to come.

This wouldn't let you down even once.

The rooted façade would not fall apart.

Yet you felt the icy presence behind you. You did not move an inch but his menacing aura was enough to sent a shiver down your spine.

Letting yourself bloom a sigh.

Your trail was left right open it seems,

He was here.

-❄|🌺

Bi-Han stared at the woman in front of him.

He knew that sneaking behind her while she tried to keep her emotional turmoil at bay would only cause her even more distress,

But he wouldn't be caught yet.

He only heard your voice besides the sounds of the harsh wind.

"Have you come here to taunt me? I am not emotionally available for yet another pointless debate." You said gruffly.

Fighting the tears that were trying to come out.

"No. I only wish to.. make ammends." Bi-Han said a bit hesitantly.

You stared up in confusion.

"Yet another scheme to make me fall. Your ways of treason are not affordable." You let out, meaning to bite.

Bi-Han sighed.

He knew he could not deal with an emotional woman that tried to hold her rage.

"There are other ways we can join together. Other than power." Bi-Han said quite lowly.

He wanted to make it clear.

"I wish the best for the Lin Kuei. And I have observed that you have the same ideal for your clan." You stared confused,

Not knowing where he was heading to in the conversation.

"I wish to make a change in the contract."

You nodded at his request. Raising your eyebrows.

"No marriage ceremony?" You said confidently, guessing that was his idea. He seemed uncomfortable at the idea of a wedding.

His shoulders tensed, he sighed.

"No. I want your clan to join the Lin Kuei. As a branch." You seemed more furious at that.

You could not take this lightly.

"I would not wish such fate to my clan. I blossomed day and night for such path." You said coldly.

Your emotions rising up once again.

"I am still offering the chair-man position. You and I will be equal. You will remain as a grandmistress." Bi-Han said,

His gaze looking at you with a convincing glint.

"I am not against the idea." Bi-Han sighed at your words. He had to knock some sense into you, but he would not yell.

You were a stubborn mess to deal with.

"So be it." The grandmaster said with a huff.

"To clear your stubborn soul that you possess, let's have a fight." Bi-Han stepped back and put himself into a ready'ed battle stance.

You had not put your self-defense abilities to the test in a long time. Approximately around last summer.

Yet you were confident. A good match, isolated?

No unwanted attention would be brought here.

Just what you wanted.

Bi-Han noticed by the determined glint on your gaze as you stood up from the trunk you previously turmoiled on.

You were ready.

And you were ready to blow off every steam you needed.

A mean of justice that would not be forgotten by him. A way to break the world and the law of your heart.

A broken heart once filled with tenderness.

Would that break his rule? Surely not. But it would be an amazing way to de-stress.

You were panting heavily, so was Bi-Han.

This spar quickly transformed into "who can break eachother's nose first." You weren't against the idea but the experience that Bi-Han had at hand-to-hand kombat was higher than yours.

You could tell he was going easy on you.

You hated it.

The trees shaked as a foul amount of punches were exchanged. Bi-Han covering his fits in ice to catch you more off guard.

You tried to not break your composture seeing that he was a cryomancer.

You could not hold back the scowl that you blossomed out of your face.

No way you're losing this.

You ducked and evaded most of his "pulled-punches". Though your emotions remained turmoiled, you mind was only on the battle. Even with the heavy drag of your heart.

Everything was dragged away by the wind.

Two souls connect as one only for such intense fight.

Their eyes connected and with that one glance..

It was finished.

You fell down to the ground exhausted.

Bi-Han offered his hand to help you stand up.

"I understimated you, woman." He said panting, with a barely noticeable tone of admiration.

You gazed up at him for a few seconds, narrowing your eyes as you took his hand to help you.

"I am glad we have made the ammends you wished. Yet, I am not convinced by your proposal."

You didn't want your clan to be disregarded as a branch inside the Lin Kuei.

"Then, we shall meet at dawn tomorrow. A meeting to the Lin Kuei temple will take place." Bi-Han said with his back turned to you.

"I will be waiting, grandmistress." Bi-Han said lowly but softly and left the glade.

"Very well..." You said hesitantly.

As for all that mattered... Nothing did.

Tomorrow you would see if everything was worth it, or to throw it away.

This Bi-Han had fished your attention. And you couldn't escape from it.

But it was enough.

As long as it helped you too..

You were more than happy to let your heart blossom for just that man.

Even if you were delusional enough.

🌺|❄

Not the cliffhanger, but yeah.

This is too long for my liking.

(I'll try to upload this to AO3 as well..)

A part 2 is guaranteed! No idea when it'll come out though. 😭

This took forever to write and any reblogs are appreciated! Feedback is also to be accepted, don't be shy :D

Thank you so much for reading :)

-Shigu 💖

#mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #bi-han x reader #bi han #bi han mk #bi han x you #STOP SLANDERING ON TOMAS BI-HAN #sub zero x reader #bi han sub zero #ShiguWritesFics #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1

[reidreaders]

A Very Strange Night

Poorly Kept Secrets: Part 1

Summary: An already awkward night gets weirder when an unexpected guest arrives at Spencer's apartment.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: implied smut, a quick mention of throwing up, use of y/n, kissing, and I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: I'm thinking of making this a series about how each of the BAU members find out about you and Spencer, so lmk if you want a part 2!

Part 2!

You and Spencer had been dating for a couple weeks when he called and invited you over for dinner. You knew that he didn’t often invite people into his space, let alone try to romance them with a home cooked meal, so you were excited to say the least. It felt like things were starting to move forward from just talking to actually dating. 

When you pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, you started to get nervous. You really liked him, even though you’d only known him a short time. But what if he was messy? What if he cooked you something disgusting and you had to sit there and eat it? Or, worst possible case scenario, what if he was a murderer trying to lure you into his apartment? You wouldn’t normally go into the home of someone you didn’t know all that well, but the fact that he was an FBI agent made you feel safe. I mean, what are odds that an FBI agent was a murderer? That thought comforted you until you realized that you had never actually seen the badge and he could just be making the whole thing up. It didn’t matter anymore though, as you were already knocking on his door; your fate had been sealed. He opened the door and gave you a shy smile that said he was just as nervous as you were.

“Hey!” You said, trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“Hi.” He responded as the two of you sat in the awkward silence that followed. 

“Are you going to invite me in? Or are we just going to stand in the doorway for the rest of night?” You chuckled, trying to make the situation a little less uncomfortable.

“Oh! R-right sorry,” He sputtered as he fumbled to open the door a little wider, “Please come in.”

You entered the apartment and he closed the door behind you before leaning in to give you a quick kiss. The two of you had shared much more passionate kisses in your short time together; it was obvious that you were both nervous to scare the other away. As soon as he pulled away, you heard something sizzling from the kitchen. 

“I should probably go check on that,” He said as he made a bee line for what you assumed was his kitchen, “Make yourself at home.”

You stood still for a minute before wandering into his living room. His apartment was small, but cozy, the kind of place that made you feel warm and fuzzy and like you were at home. You thought that you could see yourself coming over here more often. You looked around at the bookshelves full of titles you’d never heard of, some of them in languages you didn’t speak. You looked at little tchotchkes you presumed he picked up on his travels for work, and you saw photos of him with people you assumed were his friends, and a couple with a woman who you assumed was his mother. Your snooping was interrupted by the feeling of a hand on the small of your back. 

“Dinner’s ready, if you want to go eat?” Spencer asked you shyly.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You responded.

Spencer had set the table and already dished out the food, some sort of pasta dish that smelled amazing. He had even ordained the table with a bouquet of flowers, clearly trying to garner up some romance. 

As the two of you ate, you both started to feel less awkward and nervous. You told him about the latest office drama and he told you about his latest case, sparing you the gory details of course. As the two of you began to feel more comfortable in each other’s presence, things started to go a little deeper. You talked about your childhoods and what college was like, you even told him about that time that you got so drunk on Halloween that you threw up all over yourself in front of your crush. 

After dinner was over, Spencer asked if you wanted to stay a while longer and watch a movie. So, the two of you sat on the couch, not totally watching the movie and things started to heat up pretty quickly. He got up from the couch, telling you he had to run to the bathroom for a second. As he closed the bathroom door, you heard someone knock on the door to his apartment. You waited a minute, thinking that it was probably the apartment next door, but sure enough, another knock rang out and it was definitely someone looking for Spencer. You stood up from the couch and crept halfway down the hallway towards the bathroom.

“Spence,�� You shouted, not wanting to interrupt whatever he was doing in there to psych himself up, “I think someone’s at your door.”

“It’s probably just Mrs. Booker from downstairs, you can open it.” He shouted back.

You had heard stories of Mrs. Booker, the little old lady who lived underneath Spencer. She routinely brought him baked goods because she thought he was too skinny. You whipped open the door to Spencer's apartment, excited at the prospect of a delicious treat, but instead you were met by a very tall, stern looking man with dark hair. 

“Spenc-” He started, “Oh-oh I’m sorry. I must have the wrong apartment,” The man said as he glanced at the number on the door, “Is this Spencer Reid’s apartment?”

“Uh yeah.” You sputtered, unsure of what to say. You turned to face the bathroom and yelled, “Hey Spence! Someone’s here for you and it’s not Mrs. Booker!” 

Spencer scrambled down the hallway, shirtless and confused by who could possibly be at his door. 

“H-Hotch! I’m sorry, can you just give me one minute please.” He panicked as he slammed the door. He raced down the hallway to his bedroom and began to fumble through his dresser drawers looking for a shirt. 

“Who is that? Why are you freaking out?” You questioned. 

“My boss. I’m freaking out because my boss just saw me half naked.” He spoke even toned, but even that couldn’t hide the panic exuding from him.

He raced back down the hallway, leaving you standing alone in his bedroom. You skulked halfway back down towards the door, not wanting to eavesdrop, but not wanting to stay in his bedroom, such a personal space. 

Spencer started, “Hotch, I’m sorry, I had no idea you were coming, and-” He was cut off.

“Reid, really, it’s okay. I don’t usually make a habit of showing up at my co-workers' houses unannounced, but I got called in at the last minute to consult on a case and I can’t find anyone to watch Jack. I was hoping you might be able to keep an eye on him for a few hours.”

“Uh,” Spencer started to speak as he peered back at you, “Um, I guess I could do that? But I do have company, I don’t know how you feel about Jack being around strangers like that.”

“Well, you could introduce me to her.” Hotch smirked. 

You headed towards the door and waited for Spencer to introduce you. “Uh Hotch, this is Y/N, my, uh my- this Y/N.” He stuttered, not yet knowing what you are to him or how to introduce you. 

“I’m Aaron,” The man said, reaching out to shake your hand, “And this is my son, Jack.” The small blonde boy sheepishly waved at you as Spencer welcomed him into the apartment. Hotch thanked the both of you and apologized for ruining your evening before heading out. Once Spencer got Jack squared away in front of the TV, you moved to put your shoes on. 

“Well, I guess I should head out then, huh?” You chuckled, but it wasn’t enough to mask your disappointment. 

Spencer met you at your place by the door, peered over his shoulder, and when he noticed that Jack was too preoccupied by TV to pay any attention to the two of you, he put his hands on your waist, pulling you close. 

“I mean, you don’t have to go,” He stated, “Hotch will only be gone a couple hours and we can pick up right where we left off?” He said it more like a question.

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to make anything weird.” 

“Oh I’m positive. I’m never going to hear the end of this at work so I might as well get to enjoy the rest of my night.” The more he spoke, the closer he got to your face, his lips just millimeters from yours. Finally, he closed the gap, giving you more than enough reason to stay. 

As you made your way back into the living room, you and Spencer laughed a little, as if the night couldn’t have been more awkward. But hey, at least you know for sure that he’s not a serial killer, right?

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! My requests are open so lmk if there's anything you wanna see :)

MASTERLIST

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #arron hotchner #spencer reid imagine

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 10: The House Of Saint Honoratus of Amiens] [Series Finale]

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, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, weddings, Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Rice-A-Roni.

Word Count: 6k.

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

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

Thank you so much for loving this strange, sexy, sweet story. I hope you enjoy the finale. 🥰🧁

Your bare feet in warm grass, your hands around the ropes of the tree swing, no sounds except the ancient psalms of the earth: cicadas, mourning doves, goldfinches, bumble bees, bullfrogs, wind in the leaves of the dogwoods and southern live oaks. The adolescent alligator is at one end of the front yard, sunbathing up by the mouth of the gravel driveway; in the opposite corner are several nutria nibbling on cattails. The sky is a calm, cloudless blue. It’s hot, mid-80s, even when 5:00 p.m. comes and goes; but the breeze is cool as it evaporates the sweat from your temples, your palms, the nape of your neck. It’s as close as Louisiana ever gets to Heaven. It’s a good day for a wedding.

You remember thinking that it was the end of the world when you found out you were pregnant almost exactly eleven years ago, and then again when you realized you would have to divorce Willis, and so you have lived through enough moments like this—these quiet, infinitesimal apocalypses—to know that there will be a future beyond Aemond marrying Christabel. The sun will rise tomorrow, and then it will set, the lightning bugs will appear and the stars will tell myths in the night sky, and the phone will ring as orders come in for the bakery, and Cadi will be back in her bedroom playing her Nintendo, and life will roll on like currents through the bayou: slow, opaque, inevitable. The world isn’t ending, you know that. It’s just full of beautiful things that aren’t for you.

Out on Route 401, a Plymouth Gran Fury zooms by the house, squeals to a halt, and then reverses until Willis can take another look, squinting through his tinted windows. He turns down the driveway and steps out into golden July daylight. He doesn’t pay any attention to the gator as he strides past her. He belongs here, in a place that is old and strange and savage and full of beasts. You have carved out a home for yourself in the swamplands; Willis was born with veins like the roots of a mangrove tree and ancient silt instead of marrow in his bones.

“Hey, sugar,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. The wind ruffles the dark curls of his mullet, the bumble bees flee as he tramples clovers. “Ain’t ya supposed to be at the weddin’?”

“I’m sick.” A lie. “But Cadi’s fine, she’s with Amir. She was so excited she actually wore one of the sundresses my mom bought her and had Amir braid a dogwood flower into her hair to match his. You should have seen it. You would’ve been so proud.”

“I’m always proud of her,” Willis says, smiling. And then: “Ya don’t look sick.”

“I am.”

“Ya got one of your headaches?”

You pause. You don’t, but this is a convenient excuse. “Yeah.”

Willis stalls, his hands on his belt. His pistol is there; you remember how he used it in the bayou, how he helped save your life. But he wasn’t the one who jumped into the water. Aemond was willing to risk his body for me, but not his soul. What kind of sense does that make? “Ya had me scared for a minute there,” Willis says.

“What? When?”

“When I thought ya were goin’ to end up with that Rockefeller boy.”

“Aemond?” you say, like it’s so shocking. “No. Absolutely not. It’s impossible.”

“And why’s that?”

You stare into the trees so Willis can’t see the tears welling up in your eyes, the tension in your throat as embers kindle there, pulsing with heat that could char flesh to the bone. “He can’t marry someone like me.”

“I could,” Willis replies, grinning. You glare at him until he recants. “Alright, alright, oublie ça. Pardonne-moi.”

“Why would you be afraid of me and Aemond being together?”

“An oil tycoon? A millionaire? He would never stay here for long. In a town like Napoleonville? Soon as he was done getting’ those rigs up and runnin’, he’d go jettin’ off to some other corner of the world, and he’d take you with him. And Cadi too. I wouldn’t be able to fight that. What’s a parish sheriff to a Targaryen? Who would listen to me? Cadi would be gone and I’d never get her back. It would kill me. It would rip the heart right outta my chest.”

You look up at Willis from where you sit on the tree swing, the soles of your feet colored with soil and grass. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” he asks, perhaps suspicious, perhaps hopeful.

“No,” you promise. “Cadi loves you. Cadi needs you to be in her life. I would never try to take her away from you, Willis.”

He nods; he seems to believe you. And something relaxes in him, like there’s been a tension in the lines of his spine and shoulders that you didn’t notice for years. “I’m sorry about your petit ami.”

“Yeah. Me too.” It comes out like a whisper, brittle and frail. “I’m sorry about Lake Verret.”

“They might be able to fix it. Talk around town is they got some kind of desalination”—he says this with each syllable enunciated distinctly, like he’s put great effort into memorizing it—“process that can take the salt back outta the water. And if that don’t work…” He shrugs with a sly smile. “I’ll survive somehow. The world’s a big place. There’s always another lake.”

You consider him, and you remember—like a dream from the night before that just returned to you—how Willis can be unexpectedly deep, randomly tender. “They should put that on bumper stickers.”

He chuckles and waves as he heads back to his car. “I’ll pick Cadi up on Tuesday. Back to the usual schedule.”

“Sure.” Back to real life. Back to before I met Aemond. And you find yourself wishing that you could forget what it had felt like to be with him; the absence he left feels so much heavier than the nonspecific longing that existed before. Willis’ Plymouth Gran Fury rolls out of the driveway, and you stay precisely where you are on the tree swing, absentmindedly pushing yourself back and forth with your tiptoes and trying to believe that tomorrow this will feel easier, and then even easier the day after that, and eventually it will cease to be anything but a vague recollection, a relic in a rarely-opened drawer, a whisper, an echo. One day, you will stop missing Aemond. One day, you will stop wondering whether a sliver of his life would have been better than none at all.

Inside what Cadi calls the Fall-Down House, the phone rings. You ignore it; if it’s an order for the bakery, they can leave a message. But then it rings again, and again, and you have to answer it. What if your mother had a heart attack? What if Cadi and Amir were in a car accident? You hurry to the kitchen and grab the phone, pink to match the little Panasonic boombox that is presently silent.

“Hello?”

“Hiiiiiii,” Amir says, slow and something else too. Disoriented? Evasive?

Your forehead wrinkles with confusion. “Where are you calling from?” There are definitely no phonelines running to the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens, a tiny brick-and-stucco edifice built in the 1830s.

“I’m at a McDonald’s up the road. I’ve paid them $5 to let me use the phone.” And then, because he knows it’s the first place your mind will go: “Cadi’s fine. She’s eating Chicken McNuggets. Everyone’s fine.”

“Okay…?”

“I think you should come over here.”

“What, to the chapel?!”

“Yeah.” He’s talking to someone; you can hear an indistinct tangle of voices through the hand he undoubtedly has clasped over the transmitter.

I can’t see Aemond. I can’t see Christabel. There is a lurching in your guts; you are a fish that swallowed a hook. “I thought we agreed that I wasn’t going to go to the wedding.” I can’t handle it. It might kill me.

“Yes, we did, but now…um…I think you will want to make an appearance.”

“Amir, what happened?”

There is more muffled conversation on the other end of the line. “Look,” he tells you. “Things, uh…things are…occurring. And I think it would be better to explain in person.”

“Did you drop the cake?”

“No,” he says, defensive. “The cake is perfect, thank you for your concern. Not a single frosting wildflower was mutilated in the delivery.”

“Then why—?”

“Do you trust me?” Amir asks.

The answer is obvious. Of course. More than anyone. “You know I do.”

“Then go get in your car.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. “Okay, but you know it’s going to take me like 40 minutes to drive to Belle River.”

“That’s fine.” He confers with someone else. “Yeah, that’s good actually, that will work.”

“Great,” you say uncertainly.

“See you soon!” Then Amir hangs up, leaving you alone in the creaks and groans of your ailing house.

You take Route 70 around Lake Verret, gliding past fields of soybeans and sugarcane, paddocks of cattle and horses, marshes of cordgrass occupied by blue herons and white egrets and prowling alligators, stirring awake as the sun begins its descent into the west. More than once, you notice that your Chevy Celebrity’s odometer reports you are travelling well below the speed limit. You aren’t in any hurry to reach the chapel; you don’t want to carry the weight of what you will see there, Christabel in her wedding dress, Aemond in his suit, Alicent anxiously fidgeting and gnawing at her fingernails, Viserys parading around triumphantly. You can’t imagine that there is anything less than torturous for you there. You don’t remember what you’re wearing until you reach Belle River, a small, old town full of double-wide trailers and jetties that run far out into the lake: a simple cotton sundress you threw on this morning without much thought, modest but white and therefore forbidden for a wedding guest. The sky is turning from a sun-drenched cerulean blue to something more soft, more muted, as dusk lurks just a few hours away. The radio is playing Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car.

The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens was built by a man in extremis. An acclaimed mason by trade, he had been born in France and settled in the New World in Louisiana when it was still in the possession of Napoleon. The mason had a wife and children—some people say 5, others say 8 or 10, though details always seem to grow more elaborate in the retelling, don’t they?—and he loved them dearly. But tragedy struck when every single member of the family, except for the mason himself, fell ill with tuberculosis. When healers of the earth failed to offer sufficient remedies, the mason appealed to a higher power. He built the chapel to implore Honoratus of Amiens, his wife’s favorite saint—she was a baker and a florist, both professions that Honoratus presides over—to intercede with the Almighty on their behalf. This effort proved futile, and as each member of the family died, the mason interred them in a brick vault beneath the altar where they would spend eternity together. Perhaps this makes for a peculiar wedding venue, yet for over a century couples rich and poor, religious and secular have traveled to the chapel to exchange their vows. Perhaps there are few things more romantic than loving someone in the face of total futility: illness, distance, unrequitedness, prohibitions, death.

The chapel sits in a clearing surrounded by live oak trees, massive, hundreds of years old, hanging with Spanish moss, blotting out the sunlight as aisles cascade through gaps in the leaves. As you park in the grass—joining an army of Lexuses, Audis, limousines, Porsches, Ferraris, Cadillacs, Aston Martins, Alfa Romeos, and Amir’s blue Ford Escort—you observe that there are perhaps fifty guests in formal attire milling aimlessly around the building. You peer down at your white sundress, frowning. Well, I can’t go naked. The faux pas will have to be forgiven. You step out of your Chevy Celebrity and make your way across the clearing towards the chapel.

There is a long table set up in the shade with a tower of champagne glasses, an ice sculpture of a dragon, and the banana bread cake you and Amir baked for the wedding. Grim-faced servants in black suits are cutting slices and handing them out to guests on green china plates. You recognize Aegon’s wife Stephanie chatting with a flock of young women in extravagant gowns, golds and emeralds and sapphires. Helaena is among them, wearing a shimmering blue-green color like the scales of her chameleon Dreamfyre. Evidently, the Targaryens’ exotic pets have been left at the mansion for this excursion.

“Well,” the princess of Monaco says sardonically as she takes a bite, the white cream cheese frosting covered with a kaleidoscope of wildflowers. “At least the cake is good. What is this, banana? Whoever heard of a banana wedding cake? I mean, it’s delicious, but still. I knew that Christabel girl was daft. Did you see her positively absurd dress? It looks like children doodled all over it…”

Is it over? you think as you weave through the crowd, largely unnoticed. Is the ceremony done already? Why would Aemond want to see me? To try to convince me to be his mistress one last time? To show me what I’m missing by severing ties with him?

But no: something else has happened. Viserys and Christabel’s father the marquess are embroiled in a heated argument; a nun and two priests are trying to haul them apart.

“You’re dead to me, Viserys!” the marquess roars. “And you’ll be dead to everyone back home once I tell them what you’ve done!”

“I did my part! This has nothing to do with me! Wait…wait…we can figure something else out! Wait! Wait! You can have Daeron!”

Wedding guests are gawking and snapping photos with their polaroid cameras. Upon hearing his name, Daeron glances over towards his father wearily. Alicent’s youngest son is kneeling beside where she has collapsed to the grass, patting her encouragingly on the shoulder as she sobs into a green cloth handkerchief. Criston is there too, trying to soothe her with sympathetic murmurs and a flute of pink champagne glittering with bubbles of carbonation.

“How did this happen?” she wails, peering up at Criston with her vast, dark, glassy eyes. The gold rings on her fingers clang and glint; they match the single hoop earring that Criston wears. Alicent’s gown is purple like royalty, but Criston is dressed in a suit of pale pink; it’s the exact same one Daeron has on. Groomsmen? you wonder. “He knows better than this! We raised him better than this!”

You think, stunned and petrified: Aemond, what the hell did you do?

As you approach the chapel, you note that it appears empty inside; you don’t spot anyone in the pews. Somewhere, a boombox is thundering Higher Love. At the entrance of the building, Christabel is sitting on the brick walkway in her wedding dress. It’s the one you told her to choose: elegant and timeless, long train and short flowing sleeves, silk wildflowers sewn into the white lace. Her bouquet is lying forgotten on the ground beside her. Her lips are a deep, lovely pink; her eyeshadow is gold. She’s smoking, something you’ve never seen her do before. There is a half-crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter in her left hand, a single lit cigarette in her right.

“Um, hi, Christabel,” you say. And then, something equally brainless: “Is everything okay?”

“I should have known.” She’s staring out at the crowd, not at you. Her large blue eyes are dull, vacant.

“You should have known what?” Your heart is in your throat; blood pounds in your ears like the hooves of a racehorse.

“That he didn’t care,” she says listlessly. “I could tell that he didn’t. I could feel it. But I didn’t want it to be true, so I told myself it wasn’t. Isn’t that interesting? How we can lie to ourselves? Not that it was entirely my error. Other people meddled plenty. ‘Oh no, Christabel.’ ‘He’s just emotionally stunted, Christabel.’ ‘He’s busy with work, Christabel.’ What man is too busy with work to handle a five-minute phone call? It’s not like he was on the moon. He could have made time if he wanted to. I bet he made lots of time for you.”

“Uh.” You try to decide what to say. “I broke up with him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want to be his mistress. I didn’t think that was fair to you.” Or me, obviously, but right now doesn’t seem to be the opportune time to voice my own grievances.

“Next time, I’m going to choose who I marry,” Christabel insists, puffing on her cigarette. “He has to talk to me. He has to like me.”

Aemond called it off? What did he say? What is he going to do now? “Christabel…do you know where Aemond is? Or Amir and Cadi?”

“Alicent is so upset,” she says instead. “Poor woman. She’s sweet, in her own way. But I don’t want to end up like her.” Christabel holds up the pack of Marlboros and the lighter. “She feels guilty, I think. She gave me these. She had them in her purse, she has so many neurotic little habits, doesn’t she? It’s not very ladylike to smoke, but it’s not ladylike to get left at the altar either, so fuck it.”

You ask, afraid to know the answer: “Do you hate me? I didn’t know Aemond was engaged when I met him. And then…” Why lie now? What’s the point? “Then I was in love with him and it was kind of…too late to try not to be. But I’m sorry.”

“I don’t hate you,” Christabel replies immediately. “I know he would never be allowed to marry…someone like you. Your options were limited.”

You don’t know if this is meant to be an insult or not. “Thanks.”

“I don’t think I ever loved him either,” Christabel realizes, exhaling smoke. “I think I idolized him. I think I loved my fantasy of what our marriage would be like. But I didn’t love Aemond. I didn’t even know Aemond. You did, I suspect. Good luck with him. He’s a bit…complex.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, rather compulsively. You aren’t sure what she expects from you. Abruptly, from wherever it’s coming from, Higher Love is cut off. “So, is Aemond, like…around, or…?”

“I don’t regret the sex part.”

“Okay.” You examine the crowd in the clearing again. You still don’t see Aemond.

“That went well,” Christabel muses. “I’m glad my first time is over and done with. I was terrified it would hurt like hell. And so few people know, so it’s almost like it never happened, right?”

“Right,” you say obediently.

“I think I’ll have a new rule. I won’t marry anyone unless he likes me and we sleep together first. Life is too long to spend it with the wrong person, don’t you agree?”

“I totally do.”

“He’s waiting for you inside,” Christabel says, flicking ashes towards the gaping doorway of the chapel.

“Really?” you peer into the shadows; there is indeed a solitary figure standing at the altar. “So…what exactly is happening…?”

“Go,” Christabel urges, and takes a drag on her cigarette. You leave her and cross through the doorway into the chapel.

The light is dim and gentle; fading sunbeams slant in through the glass of the cathedral-style windows. The mason’s inspiration was Gothic architecture, imposing, cavernous. Two candlelit iron chandeliers hang from the high ceiling; the floor is made of tiles of black and white marble. Small stone sculptures of angels watch over their realm like benevolent gargoyles. There is a single stained glass window above the altar: circular like a ring, red and gold like the sun.

He’s waiting for you in a pale pink suit, long disheveled hair, thin mustache with flecks of white powder in it, mischievous smirk. “Hey cake lady,” Aegon says.

“Um. I’m not marrying you.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” Aegon offers you his hand and you take it with some hesitation. “I’m here to be your guide. Just like on the Oregon Trail.”

“What…?”

“Let’s go.” He pulls you out of the chapel, past where Christabel is still sitting at the entranceway, and across the clearing towards the trees. When you look to the crowd, Otto is elbowing his way through disgruntled guests towards a limousine, already idling.

Viserys bellows at him: “Where the hell are you going?!”

“Back to Kiribati!” Otto shouts back, not breaking his stride. He vanishes into the limo.

“Hurry,” Aegon says. He leads you into the forest, a thick canopy of verdant leaves and Spanish moss and the narrow rays of sunshine that tumble down through the gaps.

“Aegon, I don’t think we should be in the woods, it could be dangerous—”

“No, this part is fine. We already checked.”

“Who’s ‘we’?!” You’re wearing flip flops that catch on gnarled roots; the shrieking of cicadas grows loud. One of them buzzes towards Aegon and he screams as he backhands it away.

“You good?” Amir’s voice calls from farther within the trees.

“Yeah. I’m fine. We made it.”

You turn to Aegon. “What’s going on—?”

Suddenly, there is booming music that startles you: “Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth? Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth! They say in Heaven, love comes first, we’ll make Heaven a place on Earth! Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth!”

“Aegon, what is that?”

“Uh, I think it’s Heaven Is A Place On Earth.”

“Yes, okay, but why?”

“Ask that guy.” You round a thicket and there under a colossal southern live oak tree, surrounded by hundred-year-old branches that twist down to the earth, is Aemond; but he’s not looking at you. He and Cadi are lighting the last of the candles. She picks them up, he ignites the wick with the same lighter he uses to smoke his Marlboros, and then Cadi places them back on the ground or on top of a branch. Amir is standing by the large black boombox, the same one Aegon always listens to by the Targaryens’ pool. Amir grins craftily, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose. His suit is orange, the single dogwood flower in his hair white.

“Did we get them all?” Aemond asks Cadi.

“Yeah, I think so. Wait, no, there’s one over there!” Cadi darts to it and Aemond lights the candle, then spins around and sees you. He smiles. “Hi, Cupcake.”

“Hi,” you say, so shellshocked you can’t form any of your very vital questions.

“Okay, so we have the candles,” Aemond informs you as Cadi and Aegon go to join Amir. “White with wildflower patterns.” And you recall how Alicent mentioned needing to pick out candles with Christabel, and how you didn’t see any scattered around the chapel. They brought them here. They did it for me. “And we have some actual wildflowers.” He takes the boutonniere off the lapel of his white suit and tucks it into your hair behind your left ear. “And we have Heaven Is A Place On Earth.” He gestures to the boombox. “And I think those were the three things you said you wanted if you were ever going to get married again.”

I did say that. Just once, months ago, the first time he ever came over, the first time he ever touched me. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.” He takes both of your hands in his own. Amir lets out a little squeal and covers his mouth as his eyes begin to glisten. Aemond takes a deep breath. “So, I don’t have a speech, because this is very last-minute. I mean extremely last-minute. But you were right about everything. And I realized I couldn’t live that way. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to me, but it wouldn’t be fair to Christabel either. So I broke it off.”

“Literally at the altar,” Aegon says. “In front of everybody. It was so fucking awkward.”

“Those are not necessary details!” Aemond snaps, then looks back to you and is smiling again. “I know what I want. I’ve known it for as long as I’ve known you. But I wasn’t a strong enough person to make it happen. I’m so sorry. I should have done things differently. I can’t change the past. But everything is going to be different now.”

You gaze up at him as Belinda Carlisle sings, thinking: This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up now.

“On the night we met, you told me you’d never felt chosen,” Aemond says. “I’m choosing you. And, you know.” He nods to her. “Cadi too. And Amir. And the bakery. And dealing with Willis too, I guess. All of it. I’m choosing you and your whole life and that’s exactly where I want to be.”

You can feel the warmth in your face, beaming and hopeful and full of possibilities. Under the shade of the southern live oak, the first lightning bugs are blooming in the air like stars. “What about your family?”

“I’ll figure it out. I don’t think my father can entirely disown me…turns out I’m the only one who understands how the stock market works. But no matter what, you and Cadi are the priority. And my father will have to learn to live with that.”

“Or he can drop dead,” Aegon says. “Whichever.”

It’s possible? We can be together? Not just for a night, an afternoon, a stolen moment, but forever?

“I said I don’t have a speech.” Aemond tells you. His right eye is bright, elated, gleaming like a mirror. “I don’t have a ring either. But I’m going to get you one, if you’ll let me. So I’m asking you, Cupcake: Will you marry me?”

“Say yes, Mom!” Cadi yells, and Amir bursts out laughing.

“Say yes, cake lady!” Aegon adds. “Unlimited Cap’n Crunch Treats!”

When am I going to wake up? When is this going to end?

But it’s not a dream. It’s real. And Aemond reads the answer on your face before you can say it, and so it’s only a murmur as he kisses you, a whisper, a prayer: “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The three of you drive from the new house all the way to San Francisco; you still call it the new house, even though you’ve owned it for a full year. The journey takes seven days, with overnight stops in Dallas, Wonderland Amusement Park in Amarillo, Albuquerque, Flagstaff, Las Vegas, and Bakersfield. Aemond sold his Audi Quattro and replaced it with a Dodge Caravan. It’s July 1989, and Tom Petty’s brand new single Runnin’ Down A Dream is strumming from the radio. It’s always temperate in San Fran, in the 60s even at the height of summer. The sky is overcast and grey. When Cadi complains that she’s cold despite the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles hoodie you packed for her, Aemond gives her his Marlboro jacket.

Amir, his boyfriend, and two other roommates share a sunshine yellow Italianate townhouse in the Castro District. Aemond parks his wood-paneled Caravan on the steep, inclined street—he narrowly misses colliding with a whooshing cable car, which he blames on poor depth perception—and then helps you carry the luggage inside. There are no alligators on the front porch, but there are neighborhood cats that Amir puts out Friskies for; there are no screaming cicadas, but there are swooping seagulls and the melodies of sidewalk musicians. When Amir opens the door, he nearly tackles you with enthusiasm. He still wears his loud colors and short shorts, but he’s traded in the dogwood flowers he once wove into his hair for dahlias.

Amir’s boyfriend is named Don, but everyone calls him Donald Schwarzenegger because he looks so much like the Austrian bodybuilder turned actor. When Amir first arrived in the city, he got a job as a cake decorator for a very popular bakery, and quickly segued into handling much of their marketing as well. He’s thinking of getting a degree in advertising and trying his luck in corporate America. You very much enjoy teasing him for being a sellout; what would socialist Bayard Rustin say?

“Call your Daddy and let him know we made it safely to the West Coast,” you tell Cadi once her things are unpacked in the guest room she’ll get all to herself; you and Aemond are consigned to the living room futon. Cadi chats with Willis for a while, then says he wants to talk to you. You take the phone, slightly concerned; you hope nothing is amiss with the house. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with this horse?” he demands. “That ain’t no pet. That’s a demon. It’s a goddamn Rougarou.”

“I told you not to try to touch him,” you say, amused.

“I feed him and water him, don’t I? Ain’t that the least he can do? Lettin’ me scratch his big ol’ idiot head?”

“Patches is not very well-behaved. But Cadi loves him.”

“And don’t even get me started on the dog. Ugliest fuckin’ dog I ever saw. Growls every time I show up. Shows its teeth and everythin’. I’d take twenty gators over that son of a bitch any day.”

“Vhagar is a girl,” you say. “Thanks for watching them while we’re out of town.”

“Sure thing, sugar. Although I still don’t understand why the bon a rien can’t do it.”

“Aegon isn’t always…reliable.” But he does seem to be improving. He’s cut back to mostly just booze and marijuana, because otherwise he and Sunfyre aren't allowed to stay at the new house for sleepovers. There’s a guest bedroom, but Aegon prefers the sunken conversation pit in the mauve pink living room. He likes to be where anyone can stumble across him if they wake up in the middle of the night for pancakes or ice cream. He likes to be where people are; he likes to be included. “Anyway, I gotta go. Cadi will call again tomorrow. Enjoy your fishing.”

“Will do. Maybe I’ll toss your accursed animals in as bait.” Lake Verret is still a bit too brackish for a proper freshwater lake, but that’s changing gradually with Daeron’s desalination efforts and a subaquatic plug affixed to the opening of the breached salt dome. He views it as a pioneering experiment in reversing such drilling accidents, potentially for application globally. Now there are more bass and lampreys and catfish, and less breams and gars, but life goes on in Napoleonville’s 14,000-acre lake. Daeron has replaced Aemond as Viserys’ heir apparent, and he is thriving in the role. He is bookish yet empathetic, focused but never ruthless. Furthermore, he happens to be genuinely in love with his aristocratic fiancée: Princess Alexandra of Denmark.

Aemond was right; Viserys didn’t disown him, but he did fire him, ban him from the mansion, and reduce his available funds to a modest living stipend. Fortunately, Viserys has a very limited comprehension of how money works for normal people, and he considers $200,000 per year to be “modest.” With that plus your bakery earnings and a paid-off house, you, Cadi, and Aemond will be living comfortably for the remainder of your lives. Also fortunately, no one else will enforce the no-Aemond rule at The Last Desire, so anytime Viserys is out of town—which is far more often than not—you get to visit the Targaryens at the mansion as much as you please. Cadi loves the water slide and the koi pond. She’s named the fish after Greek deities, her latest obsession: Zeus, Narcissus, Athena, Dionysus, Artemis, Apollo, Echo. Viserys will not acknowledge you, but the rest of the family is polite enough now that the drama of the broken engagement has blown over. When you finish the cookbook of Southern baked goods that you’ve been working on, Alicent had pledged to mail copies to all her friends and relatives back in the U.K. Otto has offered to take a box of them with him next time he jets off for Kiribati; the wealthy housewives marooned in paradise are always on the hunt for new reading material.

On your first night in San Francisco, Amir serves a dinner of cioppino, sourdough bread, and (not homemade) Rice-A-Roni. You provide dessert, a recipe you’re still perfecting: Saint Honoratus cake, a pastry that dates back to Paris in the 1800s. You want to be able to include it in your cookbook, along with photographs from your wedding in the chapel this past May, almost exactly a year from when you and Aemond first met. Your engagement ring has a gold band and pink diamonds arranged to resemble a rockrose, a dauntless little wildflower native to Aemond’s ancestral homeland of Greece. For over a decade you have loved that wildflowers are grown and not bought, small but tenacious, humble yet untamed. They do not wait for other hands to tell them where and how to grow. They are the architects of their own fortune.

When everyone is finished with dessert and gathers around the tv to watch The Golden Girls, Aemond says he’s going outside for a smoke break; but you know he’s trying to quit. You follow him into the small backyard and as soon as your bare feet touch the grass, he’s pushed you against the wall of the house, forced your thighs apart, slipped his hand down the front of your shorts as he watches the amazed, electrified desire rise in your face like heat from a stove. “It’s been a week, and I need you,” Aemond murmurs, his lips ghosting across your throat, his hips braced insistently against yours, and then he kisses you to stifle your moans as you bury your fingers in his hair, to swallow down the vicarious ecstasy of every wondrous thing he’s ever done to you and ever will. “I don’t even need you to get me off. I just need to see you like this.”

Trusting him, wanting him, letting him make me come.

Aemond has been accepted into UC Berkeley’s History PhD program and will start there at the end of August. He wants to write books about underrecognized heroes, extraordinary and yet unassuming people like Bayard Rustin and Bobbi Campbell and Phillis Wheatley. You’ll miss him of course, but there will be breaks for holidays and summers when he can return to Napoleonville, and you can fly out to visit him too, and there are phone calls, and postcards, and one day you’ll be able to go anywhere together—

You gasp, a shaky, starving breath, your lips grinning into Aemond’s. You’re close, you’re so close.

There is a shrill whistle from the back porch of a townhouse from the row behind Amir’s. “Get it, honey!” a man in a leopard-print robe cheers, waving the newspaper he’d been reading. You and Aemond unravel from each other, laughing hysterically.

“Okay,” you tell him, still panting. “Bad plan. We are clearly not accustomed to city life.”

“Tonight,” Aemond says, low and commanding. He returns to you, kissing the side of your face: temple, cheekbone, the curve of your jaw. His voice is dark, jagged glass; his lips are soft like kind dreams. “On the futon, on the floor, anywhere.”

You want it too, but you know the game. “No.”

He pins you to the wall again, powerful, irresistible, his hardness grinding against you through his jeans, everything about him—voice, flesh, rhythm, soul—promising you the peace only he has ever given you, proving that being at the right person’s mercy can make you free. “I’m in charge now. Let me take care of you.” And for a split second you almost beg: Just do it, Aemond, right now, please touch me again, I don’t care if a stranger sees. I want you now, I want you forever.

Instead you smile up at him, the whirls of your fingerprints skating harmlessly over his scarred left cheek as you answer: “Yes sir.”

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

[tswaney17]

Little Heir

@duskwhisperer and I are so excited to share “Little Heir” with you for @azrielappreciationweek day one, the family you make.

Thank you, @ruisfree for collaborating with us and bringing this piece to life. Still smiling and kicking our feet over all the creative details you added. We loved working with you! 💕

This commission and fic were inspired by the adorable idea of Azriel catching Nyx sneaking Aunt Elain’s cookies late at night. 🍪 We wanted to capture Azriel trying not to smile while Nyx guiltily looked up at him. With the scene set in Elain and Azriel’s kitchen, we thought it would be perfect to show Nyx’s artwork on display. And of course, we couldn’t resist showing our appreciation for a shirtless Az. 😏 We truly hope you adore this piece as much as we do.

Do Not Repost

🎨 @ruisfree | Comm by: @duskwhisperer & @tswaney17

Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

~~~~~

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Trigger warnings: mild NSFW language, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,177

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read here.

Azriel felt the pull even in his deep sleep. That urgent tug that something was amiss. He knew the feeling of his shadows trying to drag him from his slumber. Had experienced it for years.

He very nearly growled at the disruption, until a single shadow curled around his ear, whispering their secrets.

The heir is awake. He wanders the house.

That had his attention, his eyes blinking open and seeing the sky outside their bedroom window still stained deep blue and purple, the sun not yet basking over the eastern mountains to grace them with its presence. The moon’s glow across the floor indicated it was still very late at night or in the wee hours of the morning. Far too early for the nearly five-year-old to be out of bed.

Why Nyx was awake, he didn’t know, but he’d soon find out. Azriel carefully detached himself from Elain’s warm body. Her brows furrowed in protest, a wordless sound passing through her parted lips as he slowly slipped away.

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~~~~~

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[hazelsmirrorball]

Teacher Things | Hazel Callahan

parings: Teacher! Hazel Callahan × Teacher! Reader, Summary: It's Halloween in Rockbridge elementary and Hazel decides it's a good idea to play secret admirer with one of the teachers. a/n: hi! I'm in love with this story. I decided to mix something that I've been thinking of doing for a while Abbott Elementary X bottoms. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Also the bold letters mean that they are doing a private interview! warnings: English isn't my main language so excuse any mistake! Not proof read.

The bell rang loudly filling the halls mixing with the loud voices of the kids that were heading towards their classrooms. The teachers patiently waited outside the door greeting every single kid that entered. The hallways where different from their day to day. Miss L/n had stayed all night up decorating the halls to make them spooky for halloween.

"Hi! I'm principal PJ. I still don't know how I ended up ruling this school but might I say I love it here. I’m the literal queen of this school, everyone does what I say, it’s like I direct them or something. There’s a lot of perks of working at Rockbridge elementary,  Hot teachers, smart kids and the paycheck. Being a principal is the best, so I welcome you to my lovely kingdom. But enough about me, let’s talk about my untalented and ugly staff so you guys can see what I have to work with everyday. Look, there we have one of our annoying second grade teachers, Y/n. I'll leave you guys to it and let me say if you need more beauty shots, I'll be in my office" PJ said while tilting her crown down sending a kiss towards the camera. She turns to the left and the camera slowly follows her walking towards one of the students eating a lollipop. PJ quickly takes it out of her hand and eats it herself. She walks away leaving the kindergartener alone crying in the halls. 

"Hello!! I'm Y/n L/n. But around here everyone calls me Miss L/n. I've been teaching second grade here for about four years now and honestly it's a blast. I love the kids, I love the school, I love my coworkers, I love the classes, I love my mood ...Sorry l am rambling but in my defense it's one of the best holidays of the year. Halloween!  and this year is different because we got the opportunity to dress up this year. They also let me put the whole school in halloween decor. All the kids are so excited to wear their little costumes and eat candies. That’s why I had to step up my game. Guess what I am? No? Okay. Well I’m a bumblebee cause people say I’m sweet like honey and sometimes that is cloying, but that’s nobody's buzzness. Did you get the joke? Did you understand?  Because I am dressed as a bee? I know you got it, I see that smile on your lips, cameraman. Anyway, let me just get to the point, I teach second grade and around here we all love to have fun. Do you want a Frankenstein cupcake? I made them myself" She said with a huge grin stretching out her hand with a cupcake toward the cameramen while the kids in the background made cute cupcakes. Her face was covered in frosting and her costume was covered in glitter. 

Hazel Callahan, giggled as she excitedly greeted her first graders, exclaiming proudly “may the force be with you” as they entered the classroom, her Anakin Skywalker costume intact. She watched as her little students entered the classroom all giggly while holding onto buckets filled with candies she had personally requested them to bring so they could exchange with their classmates. When the last student entered, her eyes trailed towards the end of the hall where she could see Y/n L/n handing her kids a lollipop while they entered. Hazel stared at her in aw, as she did a dance battle with one of the kids that was dressed as a hip hop dancer. Y/n stinger got caught on the door making her fall back as all the kids from her class ran up to her to help her up. She shook them off by saving countless thank you’s. Y/n threw her head back laughing at her kids following the action as Hazel stayed in her place being starstruck by her beauty. She waited a few seconds to catch her eye and waved at her with a soft smile which Y/n happily returned. Being lost by the sudden interaction Hazel couldn’t feel the small child tugging on the bottom of her robes trying to get her attention. 

“Miss Hazel! You are staring at Miss L/n again” The child exclaimed quite loudly making Hazel jump up and panicked. She quickly crouched down to be at the same level as the kid. 

“Alex, what did we say about yelling?” Hazel said softly, trying to push back her flushed face. Alex looked down towards his shoes shaking his head. 

“That we shouldn’t do it. I’m sorry Miss Hazel. I was trying to get your attention because I needed to tell you something but you were looking at Miss L/n. I heard that in their class they are making cupcakes today. What are we going to do? It’s Halloween we should do something fun” Alex said, raising his head and grinning excitedly towards Hazel. Hazel mirrored her expression. 

“Well, I talked to Principal PJ as she said we could blow bombs outside. So after we exchange candies right after recess we can blow some things up” Hazel said resting her hands on his shoulder grinning. Alex quickly squealed in excitement jumping up and down. Hazel followed his actions moving side to side. “Wait, what did you need to tell me that was so urgent?” Hazel said quickly remembering what were his true intentions. 

“I actually don’t remember” Alex said, making a thinking face. 

"Miss Hazel!  Jeremy is kicking me again" a kid screamed from inside the classroom making Hazel quickly enter the room to detain the fiasco before it got worse. Jeremy was quite the fighter and she didn’t feel like cleaning up blood today. 

Hazel Callahan didn't expect to like being a teacher as much as she did but now after being a  teacher for about a year, she was starting to get the hang of things. She enjoyed the kids' presence, they made things actually fun for her and the best thing, aside from the kids, there was Y/n L/n. Having Y/n around made the teaching experience quite refreshing. She was around the same age as Hazel  but she had been teaching there for about four years just like her close friend and English teacher, Josie . Hazel had tried several times to get in their little group but it was quite hard for her to click with the teachers. It wasn’t that they were mean or anything, it was the fact that they didn’t take the rookie teacher seriously. Adding to the fact that Hazel wasn’t the best when getting social clues, for some people, it felt like they were talking to a child while they were talking to Hazel. 

“Miss Callahan, I wanted to inform you that the camera crew just got here today, so don't be surprised if they catch your fine ass. You look quite attractive with those robes." Principal PJ said, peeking her head through the door. Hazel turned around with a scared look on her face seeing PJ wiggle her eyebrows at her. Hazel’s hands dropped stopping the two kids that were originally fighting. 

"Excuse me?" Hazel asked, raising an eyebrow at PJ making her wink at Hazel. 

"I'm just playing but remember that they...Oh look they are here now! Here we have Miss Hazel Callahan. She teaches first grade and she's been working here for about a year, yet she can barely get a hold of her class but we are working on it. So enjoy your time with her. The hottest teacher in the school. Bye" She exclaimed while she left Hazel standing agape in the hallway with a camera crew filming straight at her. Hazel quickly took her glasses off, cleaning them on her robes nervously while the kids screamed as loud as they could in the back of the class, the kids once again starting their fight.

“First of all, I'm not the hottest teacher here, I'll leave that to Brittany and second of all I have perfect control of my kids. Didn’t you guys catch on camera me stopping the fight? " Hazel exclaimed defensively while putting on her glasses and looking at the camera clearly stressed. Her hair was now messy pointing to several directions as her breath was unsteady. 

"Miss Hazel! Help me, Jeremy is still pulling my hair now" a kid yelled from the back of the class quickly gaining Hazel’s attention. She quickly ran towards the back of the class and the camera crew quickly behind her. Hazel tried pulling Jeremy off one of the other kids but he wouldn't move.

"Jeremiah, let go!" Hazel said while falling desperately to get his attention. 

"I'm not letting go Haze! She bit me with her stupid vampire teeth" Jeremiah yelled still not letting go of his grip becoming stronger. 

"First, I told you even though you are stronger than me to call me Miss Hazel. Second of all, we said no bad words in the classroom and that included the word stupid.  Now let's just try to be in a loving mood, it's Halloween, don't you guys want to be in a loving mood?!" Hazel asked desperately, trying to convince the kids to let go of each other. All the kids around them were unphased by the interaction, exchanging candies while the fiasco unfolds.

"NO!" Both of the kids exclaim pushing Hazel down towards the floor. She closed her eyes in pain waiting for a few seconds for the floor to eat her alive. She let out a sigh, dragging herself to one of the classroom doors praying that someone, beside PJ or Y/n, would help her out. 

"How are you kids so strong?! Sylvie!  Sylvie please, please help me. Sylvie I know you can see me" Hazel exclaimed as she gripped on the side of the door from the floor. She reached forward holding her leg desperately not wanting her to move. Sylvie stopped dead in her tracks staring down at Hazel with pity. Her eyes were nearly covered in tears as she begged her to come and help. Sylvie looked towards the break room as she turned her back from it, taking a step into the classroom but not before quickly rolling her eyes at Hazel. Instantly the kids stopped fighting while the ones that were exchanging candies  sat down hiding their sweets.

"How?" Hazel mouthed to the camera while watching the kids stay like statues with Sylvie.

"I'm Sylvie. Please do not associate me with the principal or I will call the authorities against you. If it were my decision, I would have been principal and I would have said no to this little filming festival you have going around here. But since l am not principal, I have to answer your dumb questions.  I am the other second grade teacher here at Rockbridge elementary. The only person I don't get annoyed at in this school is possibly Hazel. She isn't the worst teacher in the world but she isn't the greatest. Kids here can be little shits but I have them under control. Hazel on the other hand doesn't. She lacks control and I truly believe she's one of the kids." Sylvie said to the camera while moving to the side to let into view a giggling Hazel Callahan exchanging her candies  with her students excitedly.

Meanwhile, Josie  and Annie walked together to the break lounge ready to eat their lunch and enjoy their break. Both of them worked on the second floor with the middle school kids and they were exhausted.

"Good evening, I'm Josie and I teach seventh grade english. I've been in this school for four years and quite frankly still don't know why I've stayed so long."

Annie sat down taking her food out of her neatly prepared lunch box while Josie took her mug to serve herself some coffee. Both of them took in the wonderful peace and quiet that surrounded the break lounge, something that it always lacked. But the peace and quiet was interrupted by the door slamming open and a visually alarmed Hazel  coming through, Sylvie following behind shortly after.

"I'm so done with those little pieces of sh.. You"  Hazel took a deep breath pointing at the cameramen. "Stop following me with those stupid cameras. You're making me seem like I'm a bad teacher” She said while her eyes twitched, making Josie hide a chuckle with a cough. She continued to drink her coffee attempting to calm herself.

"I don't think they're making you seem like a bad teacher, maybe you're just being one” Annie  responded while taking a bite of her sandwich making Josie  "cough" even louder.

"Annie.  I came to this school the same time Hazel Callahan did and it still surprises me that she is still here. There were fifty new teachers and surprisingly the only two left are Hazel Callahan  and me, I thought she was going to be the first one to leave, yet here she is, still struggling and still not getting the hang of it" Annie said to the camera while fixing the nonexistent wrinkles of her dress.

"Well, I have you know I am a great teacher! My students say it to me all the time when I get emotional. I bet you don’t even cry with your students. My students and I had a Halloween party, something that didn't even cross your mind to have today. We exchanged candies, had a dance party and watched movies. They love me. I love them. And all you did was bore you kids to death today, I suppose. What did you do? Make them read" Hazel responded angrily while looking at the peaceful Annie. 

"Actually, yes. We read about the history behind witches. Something you can actually do to learn since you come to school to learn not to party. But I guess you didn't get the memo since all you did was go to frat parties in college" She said taking another bite of her sandwich.

"Jokes on you I wasn't even in a frat. But I just know your kids wanted lollipops and by the way I gave my kids lollipops and none of them threw them at each other so I believe that's progress"Hazel said proudly while looking in the fridge giving her back to the teachers letting them see the back part of her robes covered in lollipops.

"Congrats! You are getting better, Callahan. I am really proud” Josie  applauded while placing her cup of coffee down.

“But I don't think you should get your kids hopes up with Halloween. You should show them the gory things that I showed mine today. Real, scary, halloween movies. When they’ll get older they will thank you for teaching them how to survive a psycho. ” Sylvie responded while sitting next to Annie.

"Aren't your kids seven?" Annie asked concerned, raising an eyebrow at Sylvie.

"And your point is, Anabelle?" Sylvie asked while taking a sip of her black coffee. 

“I already told you, my name isn't Annabelle, it's Annie" she said seriously while glaring at the woman.

"I will not stop spreading love in my classroom.I love Halloween and no one and I mean no one  loves 

Halloween more than me" Hazel exclaimed sitting down with her arms crossed. 

"Hellooo fellow teachers!" Y/n exclaimed throwing flower petals in the air while entering the break room. 

"I highly doubt it" Josie responded while looking at her best friend, dressed up in her vibrant yellow costume. She was holding onto a basket filled with sweets while her wings neatly placed on her back. Her hair wasn't styled as usual, instead it was pulled back in two braids with her antennas.

"Happy Halloween to you, and you, and you" She said, handing a beautifully devoted Halloween box to each of her coworkers.

Annie smiled softly, Josie whispered a thanks and Sylvie rolled her eyes, but deep down she loved it. Y/n headed towards Hazel giving her a bigger box than the rest. Hazel blushed hard, taking in the gift in her hand while Y/n placed down her things. 

"Thank you, Y/n. I appreciate it a lot" She said smiling softly but her smile got wider when she sat next to her.

"You're welcome Hazel! By the way, I love your wizard robes. A lot of my students dressed the same. It looks cute" she said, playing with the ends of Hazel’s robes. 

“Actually, Y/n. Hazel’s dressed as An...” Sylvie started but quickly got cut off by Hazel slamming her hand against the table. 

"Thank you, Y/n! I was trying really hard for that wizard look. I really like your bee costume. I know everyone was buzzing about it” She said excitedly while trying to hide her  blush. Y/n threw her head laughing hitting Hazel’s shoulder softly making Hazel blush more if it even was possible.  

"Thank you! I wanted to go all out today, I heard that the party was going to be the bomb.” Y/n said winking towards Hazel which made her grin excitedly. 

“You know about that?” Hazel asked confusedly, while taking her food out of her bag. 

“Yeah! My kids were telling me about some big plan you have after recess. I was so excited for the afternoon party I forgot to bring lunch" She smiled at her while opening a water bottle and looking down at her notes to fix anything that was incorrect for the party the school was throwing later today.

"Here, have my sandwich" Hazel exclaimed quickly, planting the sandwich next to her. She looked up from her paper shaking her head.

“Don't worry about it Hazel. You should eat, I can wait until later.” She responded by trying to hand it back at her but she shook her head.

"Have it, I'm not even hungry" Hazel said smiling softly while shrugging trying not to worry her.

"Thank you Hazel! I owe you one" Y/n said, taking a bite while Josie  looked at the camera suspiciously while drinking her coffee.

"What? I'm not hungry. My stomach is filled with brownies, candies and cupcakes. Plus the cupcake I had this morning, if Y/n’s hungry I wouldn't mind giving her my food!! Or anyone not necessarily her, I give my food to everyone that wants it, look. Here have this kiwi" Hazel exclaimed while taking out the kiwi she was previously eating and handing it in to a kid that was passing by. The kid stared at Hazel weirdly before continuing walking.

"So,what are you guys doing tonight? Anything special planned in this spooky evening" Hazel asked, trying to change the subject while they all peacefully ate. Everyone stayed quiet but Hazel anxiously taped her finger on the round table making Annie groan and speak up.

"Well, since you're being nosy, my boyfriend rented out a movie theater to watch movies tonight” Annie responded, closing her book. Y/n squealed, turning to her with a smile. "It was so romantic. What did you get?" Annie asked, directing herself to Y/n, but she simply shrugged.

“The kids gave me some beautifully made cupcakes, those that count?" She asked sitting next to her, Sylvie laughed making the two girls stare at her.

“It's sad that you want that to count," She said, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Don't listen to Sylvie, she's just jealous the kids didn't give her anything because they are scared of her” Annie said, rolling her eyes as Y/n fixed her posture awkwardly. 

"My kids love me, they know my second grade class is the superior one and they did get me sweets. I just don't like them" Sylvie responded, getting a bag of candy and throwing it on the table leaving Annie in shock.

"Well, maybe you'll get something later, the night is still young" Hazel said suspiciously while looking at the camera with a smirk. As if it were by cue a delivery man opens the door holding a big strawberry bouquet.

“Delivery for Y/n L/n” the delivery man said while reading the card. Y/n excitedly got up taking it in her hands and placing it down on the table picking the card to see from who it was. She quickly smiled at the delivery man saying thanks before he left. All the teachers looked at the bouquet waiting for her to say who it was from.

"From who is it?" Hazel  asked while standing next to her with a huge grin on her face.

"It says spooky berries  from a secret admirer, " she said, picky a strawberry eating it.

Josie, Annie and Sylvie stood outside in the hallways with the camera crew Filming them.

"It was Hazel" the trio said at the same time while rolling their eyes.

"This is beautiful! The person that got me this has to know me really well, I love chocolate covered strawberries. They are literally the best thing to ever exist on this planet"

" You see! I know her well!! I got her that gift and went all out! I'm proud of my hard work and the smile on her face is to die for. So ha! I win Halloween" Hazel exclaimed happily at the camera while grinning.

"Breaks over, I need my teachers in their classrooms so they can take the kids to that dumb party Y/n’s making" PJ said entering the lounge and getting herself some coffee.

"Nothing you can do will ruin my mood today PJ. So I will take that as a compliment" She responded, taking a picture of the strawberries.

"You got yourself that gift? That's sad, even for you L/n" PJ responded while taking a sip of the drink.

"Actually, it was a secret admirer" she responded, not even looking at her.

"Hazel, it was Hazel" PJ said, looking at the camera in the hallway while taking a bite of a strawberry she had taken from Y/n's gift.

"Also how are you guys enjoying the reality show we have going on here?" PJ asked, winking at the camera.

"I feel watched and stalked" Sylvie responded seriously.

"I didn't ask you. Hazel?" PJ turned her head towards Hazel who started to pick up her things so she could head back to her classroom. 

"This isn't a reality show PJ. it's a documentary for schools with poor funding so I don't think we should be proud of that” She said while standing up and putting her tote bag on her shoulder. 

"You know what I'm not proud of, the fact I haven't received my Valentine's Day gift yet" PJ said only for her to hear. Hazel shivers while looking at her with the same expression as before. "Now everyone chop chop. We don't have all day" she continued while applauding obnoxiously.

Everyone started leaving the teachers lounge leaving Hazel to herself to open the box Y/n had given her, she slowly opened the box and opened her eyes wide when she saw the gift.

"Oh, I've known about Hazels' crush ever since she started working here. But I love seeing the reactions she does when she thinks I don't know a thing about the little gestures she does for me. That's why I decided that I should give something back" Y/n said smiling to the camera holding the gift she had received from her. In the background you could see Hazel dancing excitedly and when Y/n turned around to look at her, She froze waving at her trying to act cool which Y/n responded with a smile while quickly turning to her classroom.

Hazel looked at her kids jumping up and down at the party and she smiled. She looked at the camera men and then down at her hand.

"I'm going on a date today" She said screaming while joining her kids in a dance battle.

Josie looked at Hazel and then at her best friend from the other side of the school gym and smiled softly at her.

"You asked her out, didn't you?" Josie asked, looking at Y/n.

"Yes, I think she’s cute." She responded while looking at the dancing Hazel. Both of them looked at how Hazel huddled up with the kids with a box shaped thing in her hands. 

“Wait, is that a bomb?” 

#imagines #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan reader insert #hazel x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #ruby cruz x reader #ruby cruz #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos #bottoms movie

[absolutebl]

Out of curiosity (and because I just saw you’re going through Pit Babe), what do you consider the most cursed/batshit BLs out there? I doubt very much anything in the world will top an honest to fuck omegaverse show. But, still curious.

10 Most Batshit BLs!

Fun fun fun. I'm going with shows that I enjoyed but were just truly BONKERS. In no particular order. Also remember I have different expectations of the different countries, i.e. Chinese and Taiwanese BLs are just generally more unhinged than say, Korea.

1 Advance Bravely

WHAT IS GOING ON AND WHY SO HOT?

2 My Esports Genius Brother

What is going on and why so cute?

3 The Takumi-Kun series

No one knows what's going on - them, us, production, but it started everything, anyway.

4 My Day The Series

What is going on, why so hot and so cute?

5 Because of You

So much all at once, how many pairs and how many languages? Is it hot? Is it cute? Who knows?

6 HIStory 4: Close to You

Cheesy cute v problematic hot = whiplash.

7 My Lascivious Boss

Okay but what, fine but what, but.... what? Cuuuteeeee

8 Gen Y 1 & 2

There is an interpretive dance love offering of sponsored products to the female queen bee of campus. I am not making a joke, that is an actual scene in this show.

Gen Y the series the original trash watch & Gen Y 2 - The Glorious Trash Watch Reborn

9 KinnPorsche (yes I said it)

Yes but think about this show. Three different storylines and couples, the contrast between harsh, cheesy, camp, cute, and hot. It's ALL OVER THE PLACE.

10 To Sir With Love

DEATH GLITTER

Need I say more?

MOAR?

Laws of Attraction

My Dear Gangster Oppa

My Engineer

Manner of Death - This one was kind of hilarious since I spent most of the show trying to figure out what it wanted to be and if is was actually BL, but to be fair, so did it. Actual title? MurderY 

Oh My Sunshine Night

Secret Crush On You

TharnType - TharnType 2: 7 Years of I Can’t Even - serious trash watch

Why R U?

What Zabb Man

Y- Destiny

Honorable mention to currently airing:

Pit Babe - currently trashing here

The Sign

(source)

#asked and answered #10 Most Bat Shit BLs! #thai bl #taiwanese bl #japanese bl #pinoy bl #vientamese bl #chinese bl #Advance Bravely #My Esports Genius Brother #Takumi-Kun #My Day the series #Because of You #history 4: close to you #My Lascivious Boss #Gen Y #Thai BL #To Sir With Love

[nanamimizz]

2 genshin characters that are super susceptible to always wanting to have sex are al-haitham and ayato

tags: 18+ fem reader, public sex, overstimulation, minors dni, fem! oral receiving mentioned

work in stressful fields, are of higher status - they both know they are coveted by others but hardly ever have the time or the skills to pursue people in their circle. so when they have you - wet, willingly and so incredibly sweet for them in their beds they have to grow a little weak. your skin is soft and your cunt tight; you could even bring an archon to heel with your candied affection.

it normal at first - they always want physical affection, an arm at the waist or a hand in yours. then they want to end most nights of the week with a coupling, letting you lie back with a pillow under your hips - “let me do all the work, just be good and take it for me like you always do. sweet thing.”

it’s nice to be always wanted but they both are vision holders, warriors with the blade and they both have stamina that outmatches yours. it isn’t uncommon for you to wobble in the mornings to breakfast, with them hiding their smiles behind large palms. most days you feel sore, hips aching from their bruising grip and you wear your hair to hide the indents of teeth along your neck, shoulders and chest.

you think it would end there - these two men are exceptional in every way, did you really think this where their growing sexual appetite would end? it comes to its peaking crest when ayato has guests from the clans of the tri-commission over, you pull away from the conversations to help thoma bring confections to the guests. on the way back, balancing the tray in your hands you jump at the touch of all too familiar gloved hands tracing your hips.

you look over to clear, blue eyes looking at you and you know exactly what it is he wants, they sparkle in the soft light that bleeds into the hall of the kamisato estate, he tilts his head, hand going from your waist to take the tray in his own and setting it on a small table. you reprimand him but he smiles knowingly, the wrinkle in your brow falters he smiles - he has you right where he wants you.

you end up tucked into the corner of the wall, right in between the the shoji screen, the folds of your kimono undone and your cunt wrapped around his cock. the ruddy tip caught in the soft clutch creaming around his length and he grins, bottom flushed under his teeth and his eyes glittering as your cunt shines in beams of sunlight that peer.

“cum for me - cum for me nice and quiet and i’ll reward you.”

⭒ ☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

al haitham provokes these types of escapades more often than not - inviting you to his office under the guise of a break but really it ends up with you bouncing on his cock as his fingers bruise your hips. haitham finds your form inviting; the swell of your hips and chest, the way your neck slopes and your thighs fill your clothing. everything about you is asking him to touch, to kiss and lavish in his affection.

you can’t blame him for seeking you out like a bee with honey can you? so when he asks you to visit him on his break, you dress lightly. you know your lover enough to predict how this encounter will end. you walk into his office, scrolls decorating his desk and even the floor. you giggle at his disorganized mess of a room, unlike his neat room you share.

you laughter makes him look up, blue eyes warming in the sumeru sun, a small smile gracing his handsome face. he says your name softly, the syllables sweet like ajilenakh nuts on his tongue. he says a pet name in a language you don’t understand, he will never disclose it to you. he enjoys the pout that forms on your sweet face at his insistence of keeping his secret.

you perch yourself on yourself on the edge of his desk, talking to him as he reaches over and palms at the swell of your hip through your clothes. he eyes flicker from yours to your waist. he’s never once thought of the female form, but now with you in his life he finds its all he can think about it.

“how long can you stay?” he asks, and you smile at the eager twitch of his fingers - it’s quite cute watching him become eager, a like a pup awaiting a treat.

“for as long as you like haitham.” is all you say and he knows that’s his green light. he’s on you faster than you can see and you don’t know how you ended up sitting on his lap, reclined into his chest as he grips you still and pounds up into you. you choke helplessly on a moan from how he gives it to you - his cock that’s far too thick and long then he should have bumping into the spongey wall of your cunt and fingers rubbing at the flushed nub of your clit. he moves from the kisses covering your neck to kissing at the sensitive skin of you ear. grinning and chuckling at the stutter in your whines at the feeling and whispers -

“i’ve got 5 more minutes. cum for me now and i’ll pleasure you until dawn when i return for the night.”

#lamb.writes #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #ayato smut #ayato x reader #genshin smut

[yanderes-galore]

Hi can I request Yandere tfp bumblebee with a mute darling?

Sorry this is so short and not my best work, I didn't have many ideas for this :(

This is the concept I'm pulling from for Bumblebee

Yandere! TFP! Bumblebee with Mute! Darling

Short Concept/Reaction

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Human/Cybertronian, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Dubious companionship.

Overall the obsession doesn't change much from the original Bee concept.

However... you being mute is a factor that adds to it.

This is because Bee is also mute in the show due to physical trauma.

This singular trait may actually make you closer.

Think about it... when Bee meets you he has no idea what you're doing with your hands.

He's never seen sign language done by any other humans so he's confused on why you won't talk.

Someone most likely has to explain to Bee what's up.

The fact you also are unable to speak intrigues the younger Autobot.

Bee would definitely try to learn sign language to understand you better.

Maybe Raf even helps you understand Bumblebee's beeps with time.

The two of you would bond over your lack of speech.

Hanging around each other is often silent except for the clicking of Bee's fingers as he mimics your signs.

You two could have secret conversations no one else knows.

Raf most likely still teases his friend for being so attached to you.

Now he has someone just like him to hang around.

You two being mute may just encourage Bee to think you're meant for each other in a way.

Bee would still be just as overprotective and clingy with you as always.

In fact, maybe even more now that you're the only ones who understand each other.

Bee is curious on why you're mute but won't pressure you to tell him.

He's fine not knowing... he just likes that you're similar.

Bee likes to be the one to translate to Raf what you're signing.

He may even lie about it at times.

You understanding one another gives him more of an excuse to keep you around him.

He feels like you need him, when in reality you technically don't.

He's caring and doesn't mean to do anything wrong.

Again, that does not make it right.

Even Raf grows concerned when Bee won't leave you alone.

Bee just doesn't want to!

He may even be a little worried to let you go home as he doesn't want to lose you.

You may have family at home... but wouldn't you consider him closer due to what you share?

Bee gets protective of you because you're so similar.

You're human and fragile, too.

He feels the best thing to do would be keeping you here at the base, with him!

... why does everyone disagree with him?

He's keeping you safe-

You trust him, don't you?

You'll understand he's just looking out for you....

#yandere transformers #yandere transformers prime #yandere tfp #yandere bumblebee #yandere tfp bumblebee

[fabuloustrash05]

10 Donatello Headcanons

He’s fluent in the most languages out of his brothers. He knows Japanese (Leo is more fluent than him tho), French, Latin, knows Morse code, sign language and can read lips.

He has secret storage areas and safes hidden around the lair to keep personal things away from his brothers such as sweet treats and snacks, rare collector items and spare cash.

He helps make his family money by working part time as a hotline for IT support, helping people fix their computers and other tech items through a phone call.

He is the one everyone trusts the most with personal matters. Oftentimes his brothers or friends will visit him in the lair while he’s working and rant to him about their day/problems. Everyone says he’s “such a good listener” because he doesn’t judge or interpret you. He just agrees and nods along as they talk. Turns out (and unknown to everyone), he isn’t actually paying attention or even listening. He’s too focused on his work to realize someone is using him as a free therapist.

He has written hundreds of love letters/poems confessing his feelings for April, but she hasn’t read a single one of them. He never had the courage to give her any of them, thinking they weren't good enough, so Donnie stores and hidden them in one of his many secret safes he has hidden around the lair.

He loves peanut butter. His favorite types of snacks or treats have peanut butter in them. Reese's peanut butter cups, PB&Js, apple slices dipped in peanut butter, you name it!

He’s terrified of large needles and getting shots. He also has a slight fear of bees/wasps/hornets, specifically because of their stingers. But unlike Raph, he is better at hiding this little phobia.

The gap in his tooth was caused because he was a thumb sucker as a baby. Though Splinter tried his best to stop this bad habit while Donnie was growing up, Donnie didn't stop sucking his thumb till he was 4 years old, resulting in the gap teeth. So he really needs braces.

He loves romantic comedies. They are his guilty pleasure.

Despite everyone's assumptions, the debate of science vs magic does not bother him. He's experienced magic and paranormal things before so to him there’s no point in arguing about it. What truly gets under his skin is stupid over the top conspiracy theories such as "gravity is not real", "moon landing was fake", "the earth is flat", etc. Shinigami is the one who likes to mess with him the most on this subject since she knows the magic vs science discussion wont make him snap.

Michelangelo Headcanons | Raphael Headcanons | Leonardo Headcanons

#FabTrash headcanons #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie 2012 #donatello hamato

[mi-i-zori]

Blooming Love - Golden Hearts

CoD - Gaz x GN!Florist!Reader

SYNOPSIS : When Gaz stumbles upon a beautiful flower with the sweetest of secrets.

WARNINGS : Tons of fluff. Mention of Gaz being deployed, but nothing more.

I do not give permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my works, be it here or on any other platform.

Thinking about a Florist!Reader who secretly uses the language of flowers in their creations.

When an ex-lover asks for « a bouquet for their partner », probably trying to make them jealous, they simply offer a very professional smile before putting together a beautiful ensemble of bright flowers that basically tells the couple to go fuck themselves.

On the other hand, when a sweet old man tells them the order is for his daughter, who just gave birth to a beautiful baby, they whip up a bouquet full of warm and colourful love.

(Should we ever add a little magic in it, they could probably spread spells though their work. Silently wishing for a woman’s child to get better after a rough trip to the hospital ; maybe accidentally pouring negative emotions into a new batch of plants, hindering their growth or even straight up killing them because of the pressure. This is why they have to be extremely careful about their feelings when entering their little plant heaven, in case they end up bringing harm to their flowery friends.)

I can see Gaz stumbling inside their little shop for an occasion he didn’t really think about. He immediately takes a liking to the pretty bee buzzing around the place, honeyed timbre humming a song he remembers hearing once in a nearby café. When they ask what kind of flowers he would like for his bouquet, he simply tells them to follow their instincts. He leans against the counter, mesmerised as they carefully pick up a series of beautiful blooms with a serene look on their face.

He ends up coming back, again and again. His apartment is quickly filled with a sweet, flowery scent as he keeps ordering bouquets, using thousands of stupid excuses to justify his never-ending orders - even though they probably know he is going to take them home. In the end, he sneaks a flirty edge to his voice when he confesses, his tone underlining how they are the one who sparked his newfound love for plants.

His occupation doesn’t really allow him to keep anything more than a few ephemeral beauties, but it doesn’t stop him from waltzing in the shop with an enthusiastic greeting, his smile widening when they answer in their own sing-song voice.

« You remind me of a Moonflower, » they once tell him during one of his visits after a long deployment. They softly trace the dark circles lining his eyes, and he can’t help the way he quietly leans in their touch.

« Why ? » He asks, and he barely realises their voices are now barely a whisper.

« Because they’re seen as a symbol of blossoming in dark times. You keep facing the darkness of this world, yet here you are : standing proud and tall, with a dazzling smile painted on your face. »

One day, he watches them curiously as they carry a bucket full of red tulips to their workspace and mumble about how, despite not being people’s first choice when it comes to conveying their feelings, they are strongly associated with true love. They beam while telling him they are about to make a piece full of love for a marriage, and he realises their work might be more than just handling flowers and plants. The next day, he runs to the bookstore with a blooming interest for this new, exciting side of his love’s personality, immediately purchasing a few books about the language of flowers.

He carefully plans his next steps while being deployed. Soap’s teasing antics can’t seem to make his focus falter, even though his thoughts are constantly plagued by the hypnotising smile of the Flower waiting for him back home.

The first thing he does after finally coming back is follow the path to the flower shop. He easily catches them when they greet him with an excited hug, his stomach churning pleasantly when the familiar sweetness of their scent invades his senses. Though his mind seems blurred, his voice doesn’t waver when he asks them for a gorgeous bouquet of red tulips and roses.

« I found love, » he says.

Something flickers in their gaze, though it disappears quickly behind a smile.

He soon resumes his usual observations as they fly around their shop with practiced ease, his eyes picking up a few quirks in their normally perfect dance. Their hands tremble slightly as they finally wrap the ensemble of stems with clear paper. They barely manage to hide their hesitation when they wonder out loud who the lucky person might be, a false playfulness floating in their tone.

He doesn’t hesitate to place the bouquet in their hands, his lips meeting with their cheek. They immediately hide against his chest, and he can’t help but laugh at their little squeals, savouring the way their body fits so wells against his.

They hold the flowers close to their heart as they finally grace him with a kiss, the both of them finally allowing their feelings to bloom under the sunshine of their love.

#cod gaz #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod gaz x reader #x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #gn reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw3

[pathetic-sapphic]

hello! i was wonder if you could do fluffy headcannons for vi and caitlyn? thanks in advance and have fun writing this : D

Fluffly Vi and Caitlyn HC's

VI

Vi is actually quite a bookworm! Growing up in the Lanes makes it hard to learn how to read and it wasn't until Vander found her trying to make sense of a novel left behind by a patron at the Last Drop that she started learning. Vander taught her himself, after the rest of her adoptive siblings went to bed, Vi would stay up and have Vander teach her how to read next to the soft glow of candle light. Those are some of her favorite memories with him.

She is a dog person through and through. Will beg for the two of you to adopt a dog once you've been living together for a while and you always seemed unsure. Little did she know, you were actually planning to surprise her with a puppy for her birthday! And when you finally do, oh, she cries so much! There are tears of happiness sliding down her freckled cheeks as she holds the tiny golden retriever puppy in her hands. Your apartment is alive with the sounds of her sobs and the puppy's attempts at barking, your heart clenches with joy at the scene. Vi will forever be grateful to you for such a thoughtful and amazing gift. She knows she can never repay you but she's willing to try through kisses and hugs.

Hates going clothes shopping unless you're the one doing it. If so, she's at your service. She'll carry your bags, point out clothes that she thinks you'll look nice in and compliment you when you try them on. When she's the one buying clothes, she likes for it to be done as quickly as possible. Though she can't say she minds the appreciative looks you give her when she tries on some particularly tight clothes or ones that show off her muscles.

Loves silly pet names. Cutie, honey bee, hot stuff, etc. But most of the time she likes to stick with good ol' 'babe'. Her heart almost jumps out of her chest the first time you call her 'darling'. There's just something about the way that word rolls off of your tongue that makes her stomach erupt with butterflies. First names are only uttered in serious situations.

Her giving love language is physical touch, receiving is words of affirmation. Vi loves being close to you, hugging, kissing and touching you whenever she can. She craves reassurance and affirmation due to her past. Needs to know she's good to you and that you feel loved and protected by her side.

Her favorite season is autumn! It's chilly but not too cold, but at the same time cold enough for her to cozy up inside and enjoy the rainy scenery unfolding outside your shared place. Even better if the two of you cuddle under a blanket and doze off in each other's arms. Violet swears she never slept better.

As much as she adores being the big spoon, she has a secret fondness for being the small spoon too. Especially after a nightmare, Vi needs to be held and feel protected. Her life has been one of hardship and being in your embrace reminds her that that period of her life is over. Now there is only your warmth and smile which protect her from all harm and sadness life brings.

CAITLYN

Has no bias when it comes to dogs or cats, but since she grew up with dogs, she isn't opposed to adopting a cat with you this time around. She had planned to find a more exotic and fancy cat breed but that went out the window one night as she was coming back from work. Coming back to you. It was a rainy night and it was already quite late as she stayed longer in her office than she should've so she was hurrying along. Despite the heavy sounds of rain and her footsteps echoing off the pavement, her ears managed to pick up a tiny, desperate sound. Cautiously following it to a dark alley, she was surprised when she stumbled upon a dirty kitten that was meowing its little heart out. Caitlyn couldn't bear to just leave it so she took it home to you. Your kind soul immediately saw the kitten as a new addition to your little family and it made Caitlyn so happy. The sweet but feisty calico kitten would quickly become an integral part of your everyday lives and the two of you wouldn't have it any other way!

Opposite of Vi when it comes to shopping, Caitlyn loves indulging herself with new fits and it's even better if she gets to do the same for you! Be prepared to never have to use your wallet ever again because your girlfriend has you covered. Loves to spoil you with whatever you desire and buys you stuff weekly, even if you don't ask for it. Whenever she buys you new clothes, Caitlyn likes to make a little show out of it! She'll twirl you around and give advice on how to pair different articles of clothing. However, she understands if it may be a bit too much at first so she'll start off with small and inexpensive but sentimental gifts. Anything to make you happy.

Caitlyn secretly collects antique porcelain figurines. She remembers her mother always having some on display when she was a child but never let her go near them in fear that she'd break them on accident. But she was always so amazed by their graceful yet still forms and the details which adorned their smooth surface. So, when she got older, she started buying them out of pure self-indulgence. When the two of you start dating, she's actually a bit scared that you'll find her obsession silly but, as always, you pleasantly surprise her with a look of awe and compliments on how pretty they are. When a couple of days later you show up with a gift for her, she is so happy! That happiness grows too big for her heart to contain when the gift turns out to be two custom-made porcelain figures with a striking resemblance to the two of you. You may not know it, but this definitely helped heal her inner child.

Besides practicing shooting, Caitlyn also loves fencing! It lets her release tension and stress which piles up from work and it keeps her agile. Puffs out her chest with pride if she ever spots you watching her during practice. Tries extra hard to impress you but at the same time gets really clumsy because she's constantly checking if your eyes are on her and only her. You catch on quickly and find it very endearing.

Soft and sweet pastries are her weakness. Goes to her favorite bakery to pick up her breakfast every morning before work. Once she's with you, she drops by in the afternoon too, during her break, so she can get you your favorite and give it to you when she gets home. At the end of a long day, there is nothing Caitlyn yearns for more than the sweet taste of a flaky pastry and your soft lips.

#arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #requests are open #arcane vi #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi x reader fluff #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn x reader #arcane caitlyn x reader #caitlyn x reader fluff #caitlyn kiramman #vi headcanons #caitlyn headcanons

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 9: Clarence 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, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, Adventures with Aegon (ft. Sunfyre the Ferret), Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, and no more hints for you, start reading!!!

Word Count: 8.9k.

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

Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥰🧁

He returns in an afternoon of inescapable golden sunlight, hot and muggy, bumble bees and ladybugs wheeling lazily above tall grass, cumulus clouds like tufts of cotton in a sky the color of Aemond’s eye. You hear him talking to Cadi—she’s out in the front yard making mud pies, earth for sugar and sprinkles of stray pelican feathers—and then the weight of his footsteps on the sinking, sloping porch. He opens the door, never locked, and walks through the living room into the kitchen. From behind, his arms circle around your waist; and you’ve missed him so much—dreaming of waves and storms, chains and blood—that you have nothing for him but softness, gentle smiles and a voice hushed with relief.

“How was Norway?” you ask as you roll out dough on the counter. You’re making a buttermilk pie.

“Fine,” Aemond says, resting his chin on your shoulder. But he sounds tired, low.

You turn around to look at him, raising your fingertips to his unscarred right cheek; he won’t tolerate you touching the left. You leave a dusting of flour across his skin like snow, which you have never seen in person and likely never will. The air conditioner is humming. The little pink Panasonic boombox is playing Africa by Toto. “Did something happen?”

“I just missed you.” Then he brightens. “But I was greeted by some very welcome news when I got back to the house this morning.” He’s wearing his neon teal duffle bag. He drops it to the floor and unzips it; inside you glimpse several Nintendo game cartridges, presumably for Cadi. And you think: I’m always here making things, he’s always bringing them from far away. Aemond takes two small dark blue booklets out of a pocket in the inner lining of the duffle bag and gives them to you. On the front of each is embossed in gold lettering, along with an emblem of a bald eagle: Passport, United States of America.

“…Aemond?!”

“There’s one for you and one for Cadi. I submitted the forms a month ago, but even with expedited processing it took this long. Ridiculous. What does the government do all day besides hunt down social programs to defund?”

“But…but…” You open one of the booklets. A photograph of your own face gazes back at you, serious and serene, taken against the white wall of your bedroom before you knew about Aemond being a Targaryen, or Christabel, or Amir’s exodus to San Franscisco, or the profound futility of everything, it seems. “How…?”

“I took the pictures, obviously. The rest was easy enough to find. You store birth certificates and social security cards the same place where you keep the business records that Amir showed me. Typically people have to go to a passport agency in person, but Criston and I have ways around that. Your signature might have been forged on the applications…but I suspect you won’t be filing any police reports.” Aemond grins, pleased with himself. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s definitely surprising.” You stare down at the passports, amazed. “Aemond…this is a lot. But you already know that.”

“The whole time I was gone, I was wishing you could be there too. And now I can take you anywhere.”

Your heart is pounding, helpless childlike exhilaration. “Where are we going?”

“Clarence House in London.”

London: it’s another world, a distant planet, a constellation whose name you don’t know, the lost city of Atlantis.“Clarence House? Is that a hotel?”

“It’s a royal residence,” Aemond says, amused. “It’s officially the home of the Queen Mother, but the whole family goes to Balmoral in Scotland every summer, and while they’re gone they often rent out one wing to guests, not just anyone, trusted people like distant cousins or longtime, aristocratic friends. And the Targaryens…”

“You’re marrying Christabel, and she’s nobility. So you’re basically nobility now too.”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, a little guiltily, perhaps. “But you’re the person I’m inviting.”

“And Cadi.”

Now he’s genuinely puzzled. “Of course. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

Maybe I can handle this. Maybe I can make this work.

And you climb onto your tiptoes to circle your arms around the back of his neck, embracing him, thanking him, thinking: Christabel will have his ring, his last name, his family’s mansion, his acquiescent kiss at the altar of the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens…but I have what he’s made of, dreams, soul, bones in the abyss of an ocean of blood. Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~

First class, cheerful stewardesses, an array of magazines purchased from a gift shop in New Orleans International Airport: the National Enquirer and Food & Wine for you, The Face and Smithsonian for Aemond, and National Geographic Kids and Zoobooks for Cadi. The Zoobooks animal this month is the eagle, how quintessentially American. You are served antipasto Italiano, shrimp cocktail, Perrier, and champagne (Cadi gets a Shirley Temple) over the Atlantic Ocean. Aemond shows you and Cadi how to chew gum to pop your ears as the pressure builds to pain. When there is turbulence and he leans in close to tell you everything is fine, Aemond smells like Wrigley’s Doublemint, cologne, Marlboro cigarettes like the logo on his red and white jacket. You press your palm to the cool window, and clouds float by through the gaps between your fingers. The world is older than anything you could fathom; the world is brand new.

There is a black limousine waiting outside Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport. The driver gets out to load the sparse luggage: Aemond’s teal duffle bag, a frayed and battered rolling suitcase that you borrowed from your mother, a Super Mario Bros. backpack that you found for Cadi at Kmart. Aemond doesn’t have much time to spare, only 4 days, practically a long weekend; but it feels like an eternity stretches out in front of you as the limousine zooms through the narrow, winding streets of downtown London, Starship’s We Built This City piping from the radio. You have never had more than a few uninterrupted hours with Aemond before. Now you will have a hundred.

The London air is cool, grey, misty; fresh rainwater bleeds into puddles, dark pools of mirrorlike reflections. With the windows rolled down and clean slate-colored air unfurling in your lungs, Aemond points to the landmarks you pass: Gunnersbury Park, Chiswick House and its gardens, cathedrals, museums, shopping districts, centuries-old cemeteries, stations of the London Underground, the River Thames, Hyde Park, the Ritz Hotel, Buckingham Palace, Saint James’ Palace, and at last Clarence House. It is a boxy white four-story townhouse with columns at the entranceway that remind you of the Targaryens’ estate on the shore of Lake Verret, the beautiful yet temporary home they call The Last Desire.

Aemond says that the entire first floor will be yours for the duration of your stay. There is the Lancaster Room, red and gold, and the Morning Room of creams and weak watery blue. There is the Library, the Dining Room, and the vibrantly pink Horse Corridor named for its ample equine paintings and sculptures; Cadi immediately proclaims this to be the best part of the house. She lingers in the hallway examining the art pieces as you and Aemond proceed to the Garden Room, which looks out upon a sea of lavender and shrubs meticulously shaped into a maze no higher than your waist. It has a golden harp and a grand piano, and a vast bed large enough for at least five people, in your estimation. I wonder if Aemond has ever tried that, you think distractedly. I wonder if there are temptations I can’t satisfy for him.

“You and Cadi can have this room,” Aemond says. He keeps wincing and bringing his hand up to the left side of his face; you doubt he’s even aware of it. “I’ll sleep on one of the couches.” Of course he will; Cadi thinks you’re just friends, and she’s aware he’s getting married to someone else. He knew exactly what it would mean when he bought a passport for her. “Queen Elizabeth and her husband Philip lived here before she ascended to the throne. They loved it so much that at first they refused to move to Buckingham Palace, which is the traditional residence of the reigning monarch. But their insolence was worn down. No one gets to break the rules.”

I shouldn’t be in this place, you keep thinking as you gaze around at the portraits on the wall, the stiff unnatural photographs of royals, the vases, the chandeliers, the fireplaces, the plush intricate rugs, the garden on the other side of the windows. People like me don’t belong here. “Aemond, are you alright?”

“It’s my eye,” he confesses with an uneasy, apologetic smirk. “Sometimes flights…the altitude changes…it aggravates the nerve damage. It’s like needles in my skull. But I’ll be okay.”

“You fly a lot for work, don’t you?” You hurt yourself for Viserys, in body and soul.

“I do,” he agrees. He unzips his duffle bag and produces a bottle of Percocet. “Why do you think I carry these around?”

“Take one,” you say. “Lie down, rest. Cadi and I can entertain ourselves for a few hours.”

He’s relieved, he’s grateful. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can even borrow the bed.”

“Back between your sheets, huh?” Aemond says, in pain but smiling through it. He draws a semicircle from the part in your hair down to your chin, a weightless sweep of his fingertips like a kind breeze. “You are incurable. You can’t resist me.”

“I have my own scheme in mind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” You grab the front of his Marlboro jacket, appropriate for the overcast London weather. He belongs here, this house, this city, this way of life. He wasn’t made for the primordial heat of the swamplands. You fold into him, close enough to tease, to quicken his heartbeat and momentarily clear the wounded furrows from his brow. “I want my pillows to smell like you. I want to breathe you in all night. It’s how I sleep best.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Aemond says, a little stunned; but he’s elated too. For a moment, you’ve distracted him from his suffering entirely. “I’ll roll around all over them. I will mar the bedding irrevocably, the Queen Mother will never invite me back.” And he watches as you leave, his gaze transfixed and meditative and—more than anything else—hopeful.

“Hey, honey,” you say when you find Cadi in the Horse Corridor, poking a 100-year-old oil painting that she is definitely not supposed to be touching. “Let’s go explore and grab some dinner. Aemond isn’t feeling great, but we’ll hang out with him later.”

“Is it his face?”

You are startled. She knows so much. “Yeah, actually, it is.”

“He showed me,” Cadi says casually, still peering up at the horse; and you remember the day when he took her out to the front yard after she said she wished you were more like her friends’ mothers. “He even let me touch it. Radical, right? It’s so gross, but super cool too.”

Aemond couldn’t stand for me to see how he was maimed, but he forced himself to endure it for Cadi. “What did he tell you?”

“That I should appreciate having a good mom, because not all parents treat their kids right. He said his dad let his eye get crushed. And he told me he’d bet $1 million that you’d snap someone’s neck if they hurt me like that.”

You reach out to skim your fingers through her dark disheveled hair, smiling faintly, fondly. Cadi doesn’t seem to mind. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Can we get fish and chips?”

“Totally. I have 50 British pounds in my wallet, I assume that’s enough for dinner.”

“Wow! How much is 50 pounds in dollars?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “Let’s go spend them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evenings, you, Cadi, and Aemond gather around the television in the Lancaster Room and help yourself to the extensive VHS collection stocked for guests. You let Cadi pick: Raiders Of The Lost Ark, The Terminator, Firestarter, the Karate Kid, Aliens. You make popcorn in the extravagant kitchen in the basement of Clarence House and the three of you devour bowlfuls of it as you giggle on the couch, engulfed with throw pillows and playfully kicking at each other beneath the blankets. One night at Cadi’s request you bake Betty Crocker’s Party Rainbow Chip cupcakes with mix purchased at a Tesco down the street; on another you make hot chocolate to sip from antique tea cups. Each day, Aemond has new destinations picked out to tour. You ride the Underground like true Londoners to the Hampton Court Palace, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, the Natural History Museum, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery, the Kew Gardens, Imperial College where Aemond received the petroleum engineering degree he never wanted.

As he shows you the classrooms where he attended lectures and seminars—you aren’t sure what the difference is, though you can sense that there is one—Aemond doesn’t talk about math or oil drilling. Instead, he tells you and Cadi about the people he learned about in the history classes he managed to slip into his exacting schedule like splinters into flesh: Sir Harold Gillies who pioneered plastic surgery in his treatment of World War I veterans, Phillis Wheatley who was enslaved as a child and became a renowned poet and abolitionist, Boudicca who led a rebellion against the Roman invaders and upon her defeat succumbed to some tragic, enigmatic doom. Aemond loves stories like this, you can see the light that sparks into the crystalline blue of his right eye. There is nothing he deems more heroic than people who took circumstances beyond their control and made something worthwhile out of them.

The night before the flight back to New Orleans, you’re staring at the crown molding of the Garden Room as Cadi snores softly from the other end of the massive bed and silvery moonlight covers the world. You can’t stop your thoughts from roiling like the North Sea; you can’t stop thinking about desks and chairs and books and clever blue-blooded girls jotting down in their notebooks not cake orders but mathematical equations or dates of conquest. When you breathe in the smoke and cologne Aemond left on your pillows, it tastes dark and forbidden. You climb out of the bed, roomy Bob Dylan t-shirt, pink cotton shorts, hair loose and wild, bare feet.

He is outside pacing around the sundial in the center of the garden, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette and pondering the full moon. “Can’t sleep?” Aemond asks, exhaling smoke as he glances over at you.

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“What?” He stops pacing. “Why?”

“Imperial College,” you say. “And the sorts of people who go to places like that. You must have known a lot of women who could recite Shakespear and name all the kings of England, all of Jupiter’s moons. Things I never learned. Things that I have no use for. I don’t write books or design machines or study the secrets of the universe. I bake cupcakes.”

“And they’re brilliant,” Aemond says, smiling. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“No?”

“No,” Aemond insists. “I think that if you’d been born where I was, you would have done far more with it.”

“Aemond…” You walk across the wet cobblestones to meet him by the sundial. It’s been raining again. The night air is chilly, foggy, painting you with goosebumps. “You still have time to become who you want to be.”

“No. I don’t.”

It’s coming from somewhere, distant but still audible, a parked car or a nearby building: Kyrie by Mr. Mister. Aemond chuckles, flicks the end of his cigarette into the lavender bushes—surely against the rules—and takes your hands in his.

“I remember this,” he says as he dances with you slowly, clumsily; you don’t know the steps. Still, you don’t want him to stop. “In your kitchen.”

He remembers everything. “Right before we went to Olive Garden for the first time.”

He sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “Of course that’s the part you committed to memory.”

“I’ve held onto a few other details too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like how small the back seat of your Audi Quattro is.”

“A limousine would be far more comfortable. I should invest in one.”

You laugh as he twirls you and you trip over your own feet; he pulls you upright before you can fall to the slick cobblestones. And you think: This is real. No matter what happens between him and anyone else, what we have is safe and extraordinary and real.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cupcake,” Aemond murmurs through your hair, holding you without seeking more. “You and Cadi.”

You want him again, or you’re so close to wanting him that the line is less of a boundary than a quagmire, indistinct edges and quicksand that can drag you down to drown in it. “I never knew that this was possible. Thank you, Aemond.”

“It can be like this all the time.”

Not all the time, you think, knowing that there will always be Jade Dragon, the Targaryens, the stock market, the world, the past and the future, Christabel. But some of it.

Is that enough?

~~~~~~~~~~

Willis agreed to you and Aemond taking Cadi out of the country on one condition: that you return her to him the second you arrive back in Napoleonville. It’s late Tuesday afternoon when the plane’s wheels hit the runway and squeal to a halt. Aemond has left his red Audi in the Park-and-Ride lot. You collect the car and soar west on Route 10 into the red-gold horizon, chasing the setting sun.

“Daddy!” Cadi bellows when she throws open the front door of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office, waving his gift bag excitedly. Inside is a refrigerator magnet, several packages of McVitie’s Digestives in different flavors, and a miniature red-coated Queen’s Guard to keep on his desk, perpetually covered with disorganized papers and crumbs from innumerable desserts. From her poster on the wall, Heather Locklear simpers at you. At the center of the dartboard, poor Tommy Lee is impaled in four different places.

“Comment ca va, cherie?!” Willis opens his arms to hug Cadi when she barrels into him. He guffaws, his eyes are shiny; he has missed her. “Ya had a real good time, I reckon?”

“It was totally tubular. But I’m glad I’m home now. Can I get a horse? His name is Patches and I love him.”

“Huh? What the hell ya need a horse for?” He peeks around Cadi to look at you, a curious blue gaze beneath the thick dark bangs of his mullet. “What’s she talkin’ ‘bout, sugar?”

Beside you, Aemond groans irritably. Then you hear a voice from one of the holding cells, almost always empty: “Hey, cake lady.”

“Aegon?!” you and Aemond say at once, and sure enough, when you check the last holding cell there he is: unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts, rainbow flip flops, hair like he’s been in a hurricane, a new eyebrow piercing.

Aemond asks Willis: “What did he do?”

Willis picks up a clipboard from his cluttered desk and begins reading. “Possession with intent to distribute cocaine—”

“I told you, I wasn’t distributing anything! It was for me!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Aemond pleads.

“Possession with intent to distribute marijuana, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of methamphetamine less than 28 grams, operatin’ a vehicle while intoxicated, possession of MDMA, possession of alcoholic beverages in a motor vehicle, operatin’ a vehicle with a suspended license, resistin’ an officer…” Willis flips the page. “Speedin’, reckless drivin’, disturbin’ the peace while in an intoxicated condition, possession with intent to distribute Xanax, theft—”

“What the hell did you steal?!” Aemond demands.

“Burritos. I forgot my wallet at home.” Now Aegon is indignant. “But I saidI’d get them back! They didn’t need to call anybody about it!”

“Aegon, Taco Bell does not offer payment plans!”

“I can release him to ya, I guess,” Willis tells Aemond in a slow drawl.

“I really appreciate that. I’m so sorry about him, I’m absolutely mortified, I’ll pay whatever fines you want—”

“Wait, no,” Aegon says, panicked. His hands are gripped around the iron bars. “I don’t want to leave.”

Aemond stares at him. “You’re asking to stay in jail…?”

“I can’t go home. Stephanie’s there.”

“Of course she’s there. You knew she was flying in for the wedding.”

“Please let me stay here until she goes back to Monaco.”

“Definitely not. How’s everything else?”

“There’s something wrong with one of the Lake Verret rigs. Viserys mentioned a…a…I don’t remember, a dirt dump or something.”

“A mud pump?!”

“Yeah! That’s it. That’s what he said. It exploded.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses, then remembers that Cadi’s still there. She gives him a sly grin. You messed up, she means. Aemond looks to you, apologetic, disappointed. “I’m going to have to drop you off and then head straight home. There are messes to be mopped up.”

“No,” Aegon moans as Willis unlocks the holding cell and then wrestles him out of it when Aegon resists. “No, I’m a felon! I’m a danger to the public!”

“Don’t,” Aemond snaps, and this time his brother listens.

You say goodbye to Cadi—she barely notices—but as you go to follow Aemond and Aegon out of the Sheriff’s Office, she has a question. “Aemond?”

He stops. “Yeah, Cadi?”

“Can I go to the wedding?”

“Weddin’?!” Willis exclaims. “Already?!”

“Not mine,” you say.

“You really want to go?” Aemond asks Cadi with some reticence. But he seems to be considering it.

“Well, yeah. Mom said she and Amir are going. You’ll be there. Lots of cake will be there. And I’ve never been to a wedding before. I want to see what it’s like.”

Aemond turns to you, then to Willis, searching for permission. “It’s alright with me,” Willis says. “As long as someone there is keepin’ an eye on her.”

“It’s your choice,” you tell Cadi. “If you’re interested, I have no objections. But you have to be nice to Christabel.”

“Christabel?!” Willis says.

“That’s Aemond’s fiancée.” And there is a collective uncomfortable silence: Willis nodding slowly as he squints at you, Cadi chewing on her thumbnail, Aemond looking down at his Adidas sneakers, Aegon staring vacuously at the Heather Locklear poster on the wall.

With Aegon squeezed into the back seat, Aemond drops you off at the home Cadi calls the Fall-Down House. The new house hasn’t closed yet, but probably will in the next week. The adolescent gator is sunbathing in the last of the daylight in one corner of the yard; you can hear the pink Panasonic boombox inside playing Another One Bites The Dust.

“Ho, you’re back!” Amir cries, jubilant. He hugs you energetically, staining you with the flour on his hands; he’s been watching the bakery while you’ve been gone and keeping every cent of the profits in recognition of his labor, as agreed upon. “How was London?”

You give him his souvenir: a purple t-shirt with Princess Diana’s face on it. “Rainy. Wonderful.”

“Did you have any kinky sex in the royal grandma’s bed?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “But it was…I don’t know how to describe it. Calm. Normal. Easy. Like we could live that way forever.”

“So you’ve decided to be his Camilla.”

“Some moments I have. Other times I haven’t. But more and more, I just…” You try to decide what you mean. “The thought of giving him up feels impossible. And Christabel…they’re so distant with each other, so disconnected, so platonic. Their relationship doesn’t feel real. Maybe I can ignore it. Maybe this is the best I can hope for.”

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and raises an eyebrow. “It might feel more real in three days.”

The rehearsal dinner is on Friday; the wedding is only 24 hours later.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really should consider writing a cookbook, dear,” Alicent says from where she sits across from you. The dining room table is covered with flickering pink candles, bouquets of wildflowers, drinks garnished with cotton candy and Pop Rocks. Balloons bump against the ceilings, their long ribbons streaming down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The stereo is thumping out Caught Up In You by 38 Special. Everything is pink and red: the colors of love. Yet just like at the engagement party, no one is talking about the couple getting married tomorrow. You could almost forget that there’s going to be a wedding. That makes it easier; and if denial is the terrain you live on now, so be it. That is far less agonizing than the alternative.

“Oh, no,” you demur, taking a sip of a cotton candy cocktail. You exchange a glance with Aemond, sitting several seats down from his mother. He is in a suit—black and white, fitted, faultless—and smiling, proud of you. “A book?! I couldn’t. Not in a million years.” I never even finished high school English.

“But all of my friends from home are captivated by your recipes, darling, and it would be so much easier if I could simply send them a copy of a cookbook rather than trying to describe every dish to them! Please consider it. Do you promise?”

“That I’ll think about it? Not too taxing a commitment. I suppose so.”

“Good,” Alicent chirps, then turns to whisper something to Criston, who drapes an arm briefly across her shoulders and gives her a reassuring little embrace. Amir is chatting with Aemond about San Franscisco. Christabel is talking to Helaena, who has been forced into a voluminous, magenta taffeta dress that she clearly despises; her chameleon Dreamfyre lurches around the table, occasionally stealing tastes of people’s food. Daeron, with Tessarion perched on the back of his chair, is trying to discuss something called seismic testing results with Viserys but getting ignored. Viserys is deep in conversation with Christabel’s father, the marquess, a large loud man whose booming voice drowns out everyone else. The two of them seem delighted, celebratory, very much in their own world. Their schemes have come at last to fruition. Christabel has several younger sisters in attendance—her bridesmaids—but no mother. You gather from pieces of dialogue you’ve overheard that her mother died when she was a child, a terrible and irreparable loss. Otto is so bored he’s flipping through a picture book about Kiribati. Aegon’s wife, Princess Stephanie of Monaco, is a headstrong, charismatic, and rather critical woman with short dark hair. She notifies Aegon each and every time he fails her, which happens frequently: You’re using the wrong fork. You missed a button on your shirt. You haven’t fucked me properly in over two years. You didn’t send flowers to my grandma’s funeral. This is evidently Aegon’s worst nightmare; he has disappeared upstairs in an effort to escape her.

Dinner is finished, and dessert has been brought by the servants. It turned out more like a crepe cake than a Napoleon cake—the layers of puff pastry didn’t want to fluff up as much as they should have—but no one seems to notice. This time, you and Amir knew the dress code expectations. You are both wearing black to fade into the backdrop like shadows, like distant memories. You are invited guests, but you are also locals, inferiors, recipients of charity.

“Where’s Aegon?” Helaena says. “He has to try this cake, it’s delicious! The cherry jam cuts the heaviness of the cream and pastry dough and makes it a perfect dessert for summer! And the color is delightful! It looks just like blood!”

“Where the hell is he?” Viserys demands, looking around, twisting in his chair. “It’s his brother’s rehearsal dinner, for Christ’s sake. One night of this importance and he can’t handle it? I swear to God, if he’s snorting or smoking anything up there I’ll have him committed to an institution—”

“I’ll find him,” you offer as you stand from the table. You have to visit the bathroom anyway, too many glitzy pink cocktails; two birds, one stone. You depart from the table and Aemond’s gaze follows you, a low heat that is building towards incineration, a baiting promise of dark euphoria that you can no longer pretend you don’t want desperately, defenselessly. Christabel gives you a sweet little wave. She is dripping in gold—dress, heels, jewelry—and seems happier tonight, more self-assured. Perhaps with the wedding so close, her trepidation concerning Aemond’s commitment has evaporated. Surely it is too late to call off the ceremony now. Tonight they feast, tomorrow they recite their vows, and then…

But no, you don’t think about the honeymoon. You will not allow yourself to. It can’t exist to you, and that is how you’ll survive this. Christabel will be in one universe, you in another, two timelines that never cross like something out of Star Trek. And the way she and Aemond interact is so impersonal, so untactile, that it is not so difficult to treat anything beyond chaste pecks on cheeks as an impossibility.

At the top of the staircase, Vhagar is lurking. She wags her long twiglike tail when she sees you and licks the knuckles of your left hand. You give her a pat on the head—and then several more when she whines as you try to leave—then at last she lopes off down the hallway.

Aegon is exactly where you’d assumed he’d be. He’s in his bedroom hunched over his computer and hammering furiously at the keyboard. There’s white powder on his fingers and in his thin mustache. On the screen, bizarrely, is what appears to be neon green grass and an ox-drawn wagon like the ones from the pioneer days. Sunfyre the ferret is stretched out across the bed napping, his angular face resting on his paws.

Aegon whirls around to face you. He is wearing a lime green satin suit but has forgotten to put on a shirt under it. “What? What? What do you want? I’m playing Oregon Trail. I have dysentery.”

“You have what…? Never mind, it’s not important. You need to come downstairs and eat some dessert. People are wondering where you are.”

“I’m busy.”

“If you don’t make an appearance on your own, Viserys will come looking for you. Also there are some Cap’n Crunch treats I left on the kitchen counter that you might be interested in.”

“Consider me tempted. I’ll be down momentarily.”

“You better be,” you tell Aegon, then retrace your steps back to the kitchen. Amir and Christabel are both there getting cans of Pepsi from the fridge and making very cumbersome small talk…or perhaps only Amir thinks it is that much of a burden. Christabel is chattering blithely away about different types of wildflowers. He gives you a look like Oh thank God, an excuse to escape and wastes no time heading back to the dining room.

“Did you notice what’s playing now?” he asks you just before he vanishes, then points towards the stereo in the grand foyer. You listen; it’s Money For Nothing by Dire Straits. “You think they know this song is about class warfare?”

“You should tell them,” you joke.

“Yeah, if I want to end up on Unsolved Mysteries.” Then Amir is gone.

“How are you doing?” you ask Christabel to be polite. You open the refrigerator and start hunting for your own can of Pepsi. “Excited? Nervous? You seem a little more relaxed than the last time I saw you. Are the wedding jitters finally dissipating?”

“They are,” she says, and when you glance back at her she is wearing a bashful sort of smile. It’s not an expression you can read. You resume digging through the refrigerator for a can of Pepsi; Amir and Christabel might have taken the last ones.

“That’s good,” you say noncommittally, hoping she’ll leave. But Christabel doesn’t leave. She seems to have something she needs to say. Just as you spy a lone can of Pepsi at the very back of the refrigerator and lean in to grab it, she proceeds to unburden herself.

“Well, you know, I was so concerned about me and Aemond before. I had no conviction that he especially liked me, and we never had anything to talk about, and he was so dreadfully undemonstrative…I was just beside myself, truly. I didn’t know what to do. But I feel much better about everything now. Norway was so good for us.”

Norway?

You close the refrigerator, your ice-cold Pepsi can clutched in your hand. You’re going cold all over. Slowly, you turn towards Christabel, glittering in her gold dress.

Norway???

“He took you on the North Sea trip.” You hear the words, but it doesn’t feel like you’ve said them. They sound flat and dazed.

“It’s a bit of a secret,” Christabel says; and again, her smile has no cruelty or sharp awareness in it, but her cheeks are pink. She’s blushing. What does she have to be embarrassed about? “My father doesn’t know. He wouldn’t approve. But I just felt…I felt ready, you know? I’m sure you understand what I mean. You aren’t so clinical and aloof about everything. I had to know if Aemond and I really had something between us before we got married.”

“You felt…ready?” Ready for what? Ready for WHAT, Christabel?

“I asked Aemond to take me with him. I begged, actually.” She giggles. “I won’t try to be proud about it! And finally he said yes. We stayed at a lovely hotel in Bergen, and during the day he would have to fly by helicopter out to the rigs, but at night…”

You’re staring blankly at her. You can’t believe what you think she’s going to say. Surely it must be something else, anything else—

“It wasn’t my plan to ever be intimate with a man before marriage, but sometimes…things change. Minds change, circumstances change. And I knew I wanted it. And it went so well! Now what do I have to be nervous about? All the uncertainties are resolved. Now we just sign the paperwork and start our lives together.”

He took her to Norway.

He slept with her in Norway.

“I hope it was just as good for him,” Christabel muses, a compulsive sort of oversharing. But she has had a few cocktails and she thinks you’re nonjudgemental and there’s probably not a single other soul she feels she can be truthful with…so why not the girl who got knocked up at prom and had a baby at seventeen? Surely she’s in no position to judge. “It’ll be even better once we can…you know. When we’re officially trying for a baby and there’s no need to worry about any precautions. I want Aemond to enjoy himself as much as possible. I want to be a good wife to him.”

You feel dizzy; you feel violently ill. And now you see everything: Aemond kissing her with his mouth open and ravenous, his hands between her legs, his hips pressed to hers, peeling off her clothes and learning how to make her moan, make her wet, make her come, and you think of how careful he must have been with her, a girl with no past, no ex-husband, no childbirth that nearly killed her, no stretchmarks and no baggage, just a smooth pristine rivulet of flesh that was so pure and uncontaminated it was weightless, and you can hear—though you don’t want to, though it feels like it will kill you—how tender he was, how encouraging, not a dominant who drinks down fantasies like a vampire sustained by blood but just a man, and a man who has at last found a woman he doesn’t need to grab, bite, bruise, handcuff to a bedpost to feel satisfied with.

He took her to Norway and he never told me.

You are saying something, and Christabel is nodding appreciatively, accepting the sage wisdom of a tarnished life. Your words don’t matter. They are folktales and charms, the croaks of bullfrogs, the whispers of the wind through Spanish moss, the Morse code of ripples in the water of the bayou. You are a novelty and your counsel is a souvenir; one day when she is living in California or Argentina or Australia or Alaska or her ancestral castle back in the U.K., Christabel will tell Aemond’s children: Once I met a nice single mom from Napoleonville Louisiana, and she told me to follow my heart and not let anyone shame me for wanting to be close with my soon-to-be husband.

Vhagar trots into the kitchen and begins nudging her massive head against Christabel’s bare knees. “Hi, big girl!” Christabel coos as she pets the blue merle Great Dane, clearly accustomed to this. “Who’s a giant gorgeous girl? You are!”

What did I expect? I knew they were getting married. I knew they were going to sleep together.

Yes, you knew it, but you hadn’t felt it, and now you have.

I can’t do this, you realize. I thought I could but I can’t.

“Christabel?” Alicent is calling like a windchime. “Darling, there are just a few more things we have to discuss before tomorrow, will you come back to the table please?”

“On my way!” Christabel replies obediently, and she gives you a quick, impulsive hug before vanishing.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m going to drop dead right in the middle of this fucking kitchen.

Leaving your can of Pepsi forgotten on the countertop, you escape to the living room and then out the French doors into the garden. You run past the pool all the way to the pond full of multicolored fish you once hadn’t known were koi. You drop to your knees, then lie down on the cold cobblestones, and when it hits you again—Aemond touching her, Aemond loving her—you rupture into sobs that are breathless and shuddering. You try to stifle the noise with your palms; you clasp them over your mouth and smother your wails. It feels like you’re being ripped apart; it feels like you’re in labor, but there is no end, no consolation of a new life, no point at which your body chooses whether you live or die. It is only a razored wheel that turns in you again and again and again, shredding muscle and splitting bones.

There is a hand on your shoulder; someone is patting it awkwardly. You look up to see Aegon standing there. “Sorry,” he says. “You look…not good.”

“I’m really not good. I’m fucking terrible.” Your face is soaked and stinging with tears, your voice is strangled.

“Do you want some coke?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“From you? Yeah, for sure, getting impaled by a stop sign would be a great next move for me.”

“I’m totally fine to drive.”

“Can you just pull Amir aside without anyone else noticing and tell him to say his goodbyes and then meet me in the driveway, please? He drove me here. I need him to take me home.”

“Okay,” Aegon says, and then: “Thanks for the Cap’n Crunch Treats. Thanks for remembering something I like and caring enough to bring more. No one really does that around here.” And he’s gone before you can think of a reply.

To get to the driveway without going though the house, you climb over a 5-foot wrought iron fence swarmed with rosebushes and ivy, no easy feat in a black Kmart dress and matching ballet flats. You acquire a dozen shallow gashes on your hands and forearms, but make it to the Ford Escort just in time for Amir to meet you under the full, cloudless moon, tossing his car keys from one hand to the other.

“What did—?” Then he sees your face. He gasps, knowing how bad it is. He’s never seen you like this. He didn’t know it was possible for you to look like this. He unlocks the Ford Escort and joins you inside, turning the key in the ignition. “What the fuck did Aemond do to you?!”

“I have to go home. It’s over, it’s over, I can’t do this.”

Amir is spinning out of the driveway. “Did he hurt you, did he—?!”

“He fucked Christabel in Norway,” you say, sobbing uncontrollably. “And I know I have no right to be jealous, I know we don’t have a conventional relationship, I thought I could handle this but I can’t. I can’t stop picturing him with her, and hearing it, and I…I…I don’t understand why this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“Babe,” Amir says gently, a palm on your trembling thigh. “You’re in love with him. That’s why.”

“This is killing me,” you whisper. You’re shaking all over. You feel like you’re battling for every breath.

Your best friend—your only friend—is quiet for a long time. “Don’t go tomorrow,” Amir finally says. “You don’t need to see the wedding. You shouldn’t put yourself through that. I’ll go, I can handle the cake alone, especially if Cadi’s with me to help with carrying plates and stuff.”

You don’t say anything. You stare out the nightscape window and mop tears from your face with McDonald’s napkins you find in Amir’s glovebox.

“Did you hear me? I don’t think you should go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you agree hoarsely. “I can’t watch them have my wedding.”

“Willis is dropping Cadi off in the morning, right? I’ll pick her and the cake up from your house and bring her back when it’s over. You can tell her whatever you want…you have another cake order to work on, you’re sick, you’re injured, your mom needs a ride to the doctor, whatever.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

“Hey, look at me.”

You do, sniffling, shivering, in agony.

“You don’t deserve this. You deserve better than this.”

I don’t think I do. I think if I did, it would have happened by now. But you know Amir will not accept this answer. “Okay,” you say again, trying to make yourself believe it.

In the gravel driveway of your sinking house, Amir asks if you want him to say. You tell him no, you want to be alone, you have to think, you have to plan. Really, you just don’t want anyone to see you this shattered. It’s humiliating, it’s like you’re an animal, like something less than human needing to licks its wounds in a dark place. You walk into the Fall-Down House and flip on the kitchen light, artificial yellow luminance. You don’t start the air conditioner. You don’t touch the Panasonic boombox. You stand there mindlessly in the sounds of the bayou: cicada screams, owl hoots, the far-away hissing of gators. The wedding cake is in the refrigerator, banana bread, cream cheese frosting, a kaleidoscope of wildflowers painted by Amir’s expert hand. He’s leaving. Aemond’s leaving. Everyone is leaving.

There are tires crunching on gravel in the driveway, there are footsteps on the sloping porch. He is able to yank the door open because you never lock it. He blows in like a storm that kills.

“What the hell happened?!” Aemond shouts. “Why did you leave?! You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me—”

“You took her to Norway.”

Aemond’s face goes from furious to lost. “Why would she tell you that?”

Not That’s not true, not Let me explain, not It didn’t mean anything. Your stomach sinks, a basket full of stones. “Because she thinks I’m her friend.”

“It wasn’t…” Aemond sighs. “It was a last-minute thing, and it was her idea. She really, really wanted to go to Norway, and I figured…you know…what’s the difference between the wedding night and a few weeks before it? So yeah, it happened—”

“Oh God,” you whisper, starting to sob again.

“And then I came home to your house, to your doorstep, because I missed you the entire time. The entire time, every hour, every minute, and there are no exceptions, okay, are you listening to me? I took her to Norway because I had to. I took you and Cadi to Clarence House because I wanted to. What I do with her is a reflex, an obligation, I’m on autopilot, I’m thinking of you to get myself hard, I don’t know how else to express to you how completely different these situation are in every single goddamn way.”

“She said it was good,” you say huskily, tears snaking down your cheeks that are raw from trying to dab them dry.

“Of course it was good for her!” Aemond flings back. “I’ve had a lot of casual sex, I know how to make women come, it’s a math equation, it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates!”

“I know I have no claim to you, but I…” You gaze out the kitchen window, dark and still, nothing to see but stars and lighting bugs. “I can’t do this.”

Aemond asks, kindly now: “What do you want?”

I want to not have to beg you to choose me. “I want this to be over.”

“No,” he says, panicking. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to give this up as soon as it gets painful? I’m not worth fighting for, what I can do for you and Cadi isn’t worth a little pain? Because I’m no stranger to it either. You think I’m not hurting, you think nothing ever keeps me awake at night?”

“You could leave your prison any time you want to. But instead you built a brand new one around me.”

“You don’t understand what the kind of responsibility I’m beholden to feels like.”

“Yeah, a town named after Napoleon is the right place for you,” you seethe, enraged. “You’ve felt so fucking small your whole life that now you’re starving for what it tastes like to be in control. But I can’t let you destroy me. I can’t let my daughter grow up watching me settle for less than I need from a man. She’ll learn to live the same way.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Aemond,” you say, and you wait until he looks at you. “Do you really want children?”

When he answers, his voice frayed and his right eye misty. “I love Cadi.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want children of your own with Christabel?”

“I have to,” he says, miserable.

“No,” you plead. “You cannot have a baby with that girl. You can’t, Aemond. You are going to ruin so many lives, not just your own.”

“I have to,” he says again.

“Then get out. Viserys owns you, and Viserys wouldn’t want you here. He would want you back at the mansion impregnating your child bride.”

“She’s a legal adult, she’s 19, and she wants me, she begs for me, I’m not twisting her arm—”

“Then go!” you roar, striking him hard, both palms to his chest. Aemond doesn’t budge. “Get out, go home, go have kids you won’t give a fuck about just like Viserys never cared about you. Go repeat the cycle all over again. I’m done. I can’t be a part of it.”

“I won’t be like him,” Aemond swears.

“You will be. You already are.” You shove him again, but still, Aemond doesn’t move. You know what he’s waiting for, you know the right word to say. But you can’t get it to launch from your lips; it catches in your throat like a blade through the windpipe. “Get out!”

Your fingers hook into the lapels of his black suit jacket and stay there; you can’t let go. You’re both breathing heavily; you can hear it, you can feel the heat in the air. You keep his jacket gripped in your hands, he can move no closer, no farther away. When he leans into you, you breathe in his smoke and cologne; when his hands cradle your face, you feel the benevolent power that once gave you peace.

I want him. I need him. Not forever, no, I understand that’s not possible. But just for right now.

You look up at him and Aemond kisses you, his lips and tongue claiming you like untouched land; he puts down roots, he slits the jugulars of trespassers.

Here. Now.

You drag him down with you. When you drop to the floor, you strike the back of your skull against the scuffed, sloping wood and bite back a yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aemond says, though it isn’t his fault; he reaches for your head and cushions it with his right hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You’re tearing open his white shirt; tiny translucent buttons go flying in every direction. Your palms glide over his chest, up to his throat, to his jaw, to knot in his hair. He reaches beneath your dress to slide off your panties, then buries his fingers between your legs. You moan helplessly, needfully, spreading your thighs wider for him. No man has ever been able to do this to you before: to make you forget everything, to make you feel—if only for a moment—beloved, worthy, chosen. He’s kissing you like he knows this is the last time. You’re touching the left side of his face and he doesn’t even notice, he won’t realize until later that there was a time when he was cured.

Aemond pulls his wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants, flips it open, and roots through it until he finds a condom. He starts to rip it open, moving with desperate speed, dire impatience.

“No, don’t,” you say. “Please don’t. I want all of you.” And I won’t get another chance.

He exhales in deep, ecstatic relief; he wants it too. You’re soaked, you’re ready, you’re aching for him like mending bones. He eases himself into you, gasping, and you are stunned by how good it feels already, how close you are, every rope of nerves and muscle glimmering with an opening heat that builds higher and higher, the reverse of a tornado finally touching down on earth. His hands are linked with yours and pinned to the floor above your head; he’s kissing you, he’s moaning into you, he thrusts deeper and harder when you beg him to do it.

Aemond untangles one hand from yours and reaches low to stroke you. Your fingers find his again and catch him, capture him, bring his hand back to the floor where it can be entwined with yours and his weight can hold it to the scraped wood. “I don’t need it, I’m close. Stay here. Stay with me.”

“I’m here,” he whispers, panting; and the friction of his body against yours overtakes you, and when you come it is blinding, bone-breaking, a whirlpool that traps you for what feels like over a minute, soaring highs punctuated by the illusion of fading over and over again until you think you can’t stand it, and only then does it end, Aemond collapsing on the floor beside you covered in your sweat and your wetness, you feeling the remnants of him bleeding down your bare thighs.

You drag yourself upright—muscles sore in your belly and back and thighs—and roll onto your knees so you can stagger to your feet. You tug on your panties so he doesn’t drip out of you onto the floor. Then you straighten the skirt of your black dress, turn on the little pink Panasonic boombox—it’s a U2 song, Where The Streets Have No Name—and begin washing a muffin tin that was left in the sink.

Aemond stands up and runs a hand through his hair, getting his bearings. He looks down at his pants and fixes his zipper and belt. He tries to close his shirt and then remembers you tore off the buttons. They lie scattered across the floor, useless.

As you scrub the muffin tin, you hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you. His palms begin at the small of your back and then skate around your waist to encircle you.

“Stop,” you tell him; and immediately his hands fall away. Aemond waits for you to say more, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him.

He walks to where the kitchen becomes the living room—you can tell by the creaks in the floor—and again, he waits. After a while he says: “I’ll call you when the new house is ready.”

“No. Have Criston handle it. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

“You get that I’m in love with you, right?” Aemond forces out, and when at last you turn to him there is the metallic glistening of tears on his right cheek. “I never feel this way about anyone. I don’t know how to handle it, I didn’t even know it was possible. But it’s true.”

“It’s not enough,” you say simply, and resume scrubbing the muffin tin.

He waits in silence, thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes. Then the door opens and shuts—like the jaws of a beast—and he’s gone.

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