#el-mail

[kof-xiii]

what is wrong with this freak

he hungy :(( someone stole his steak now hes anger

[allthegothihopgirls]

tim's definitely a coachella girlie, and drags kon along with him every year. the number of messages received from bruce + the rest of the batfam along the lines of "tim we love you but please put some more clothes on" grows every year. he ignores them all.

kon takes all of tim's pictures and is the #1 supportive boyfriend. i would compare him in this scenario to the likes of a bf roped into going to a taylor swift concert, but he is way too into the whole coachella thing for that.

their outfits are always coordinated too.

[amethvysts]

no tópico pipe e leitora famosa, meu império romano é a leitora atriz em sociedade da neve e durante as gravações ela e o pipe ficando escondido, e depois que o filme estoura (nessa altura do campeonato o elenco já sabe) os fãs fazem várias teorias da conspiração sobre eles estarem juntos

e no aniversário dela ele posta um videozinho (pq ele é filmaker) pra assumir o namoro

é tão a carinha dele mesmo :( e pra trazer um gostinho a mais: certeza que ele posta como um pedido de desculpas depois de uma longa briga que vocês tiveram justamente por você achar que ele não quer te assumir.

o pipe parece ter essa coisa de ser um cara super preocupado, né? então eu imagino que ele fique muito tenso, principalmente depois do filme ter estourado e se tornado uma febre. ele tá constantemente preocupado com você, a sua segurança, se você tá feliz... e com a vigia e o julgamento desnecessário das fãs, ele fica muito receoso em te assumir assim de cara. sempre te diz que precisam se adaptar a esse novo momento da vida, mas também não quer fazer isso sem você. então, ele faz tudo o que um namorado tem que fazer. sai contigo, conversa com você constantemente, curte e comenta nas suas fotos, tá presente na sua vida, torcendo por ti... mas sempre escondido.

pior de tudo é que ele sabe que você merece mais do que isso, mas fica quietinho só esperando a bomba explodir. e quando explode, pipe pensa até que não vai ter mais volta. você para de falar com ele, bloqueia nas redes sociais, silencia as notificações, faz de tudo para esquecer que ele existe.

mas felipe é um romântico de coração. e também é perdidamente apaixonado por você. então, ele vai tentar de novo, e se não funcionasse, tentaria tantas outras mais. e por isso que ele posta o vídeo que fez de vocês dois, dando um vislumbre do tanto que vocês compartilharam e nutriram em tão pouco tempo. iniciando com o vídeo que acidentalmente gravou durante as gravações no aeroporto, onde te capturou apenas andando pelo set, já toda vestida como sua personagem, até o curto vídeo que gravou durante o último encontro. ao som de velha infância dos tribalistas (ou beija eu, da marisa), existia muito pouco que ele poderia falar, então, se contenta em exprimir o carinho e admiração que sente por você por meio das imagens.

e ainda posta com uma legenda bem breguinha, mas fofa, em português, finalizando com um: "eternamente teu, pipe".

[feyhunter78]

Can I have a one shot where Aemond has fallen for the old librarians apprentice? He just stumbles upon her trying teach herself high Valyrian through books but she quite obviously and miserably fails so Aemond is determined to teach her himself. She ends up teaching him some things in return, they both tease and flirt with each other through Valyrian and common tongue and they both fall for each other. He asks her to marry him in the end but IT IS POSSIBLE!!! as she’s like a 4th daughter to a high-ish lord.

You definitely can!!! This one ended up being way longer than I meant it to be XD I hope you enjoy it!!!!!

Apprentice!reader masterlist

Study Sessions

You sat in a back corner pouring over the tomes before you, scratching notes into the parchment, and comparing your scribblings to the ancient texts. “Se ēbrion iksis zōbrie se lēdan lēda—lēda qēlos…” You groaned in frustration, sounding out the word in your mind, trying to wrap your tongue around the last syllable for the word ‘stars’.

“Qēlossās.” A low voice said, making you jolt, and nearly knock over the candle by your elbow.

Prince Aemond appeared from the shadows, dressed in simple trousers and a linen nightshirt, his hair was loose, and to your surprise he was not wearing his eye patch.

The sapphire that replaced his eye sparkled in the low light, and you couldn’t decide if it was more improper to stare at it, or the smooth muscles of his chest that were exposed by his nightshirt.

“The night sky is dark but filled with stars. A line from the Great Valyrian book of Poetry, if I am not mistaken?” He stepped up to the table and leaned down, scanning all the books you had laid open.

You bowed your head. “You are not, my prince.” You started to gather your things, and he held up a hand to stop you.

“Why do you flee? Surely my face is not so hideous you cannot stand to remain in my presence for a moment longer.”

“No—that is not my reasoning at all, I merely assumed you wished to be alone.”

“Umbagon.” He said, the word rolling off his tongue such in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“I am ashamed to say I only know the one line, and a few other basics.” You admitted, still trying to gather all your notes.

“It means stay.” He sat in the chair beside yours, and you sat down as well. “Might I inquire as to why you’re attempting to learn Valyrian?”

“It is the language many of the books in our great library are written in, and I wish to organize them without needing to bother a member of the royal family.” You answered, keeping your eyes on your hands, not daring to face the prince.

“And your studies are going well?”

Your shoulders slumped. “I do not understand why I cannot grasp the language. The written word is my love and my forte, it is why I worked so hard to serve here.” You glanced up at the rows and rows of books. “This is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

Aemond hummed and read over your notes. “I see what the problem is.”

You perked up, and for a moment you could have sworn there was a slight smile on the prince’s lips. “You do? Please, tell me.”

“You need a teacher.” He said.

You slumped once more. “The very reason I decided to teach myself was so that I would not bother any members of the royal family.”

He stood. “I consider it a challenge, not a bother.”

You looked up at him. “You would teach me?”

“I’ve grown bored as of late, perhaps this will serve as entertainment.”

You stood in a rush, curtsying. “My prince, I cannot thank you enough, I promise I will be a diligent student.”

From then on you and the prince would meet every night, and as the nights progressed, so did you handle on Valyrian.

“Se skoros iksis aōha udligon naejot bisa?” He asked, pointing to a line of poetry. And what is your answer to this?

“Even the moon herself envies your beauty?” You scrunched your nose. “I think I would find it too flowery for a proper response.”

“Perhaps you need to hear it, to understand the depth?” He turned your chair, so you were facing him, and held your hand in his. “Sesīr se hūra ziry envies aōha gevives.” The words were like silk, his voice low and calm, his violet eye focused solely on you.

You felt your face heat up, and you stuttered out an answer. “Yn se vēzos envies ao.” And the sun envies you.

Aemond’s thumb was absentmindedly caressing your skin, as he searched his mind for another phrase. “Māzigon sōvegon va zaldrīzes arlī lēda nyke.” Come ride dragon back with me.

“Iksan zūgagon zaldrīzoti.” You said. I am afraid of dragons.

He chuckled. “There is nothing to fear from Vhagar.”

You smiled at him, fond exasperation coloring your voice. He’d tried many times to convince you to join him on Vhagar and each time you said no. “You are her rider, of course you have nothing to fear, but I do.”

You shifted in your seat, noticing he still held your hand.

He’d been doing this more of late, holding your hand, brushing your cheek, complimenting you in Common and High Valyrian.

It sent a giddy warmth through your veins, and gave you a fluttering thing of hope in your chest that you feared could be squashed at any moment.

His eye followed your gaze, and he dropped your hand, reaching for the book of pastry recipes you’d pulled as well. “That is enough Valyrian for tonight, you were to explain the intricacies of latticework on pies, I believe.”

“Ah, yes, it is not as simple as many believe.”

This had been your exchange, Aemond taught you High Valyrian, and you taught him about pastries… Which seemed an uneven exchange to you, but you yearned for that attentive look he fixed you with, so you never voiced your worries aloud.

“Jaelan daor tolie yn ao.” He whispered, almost more to himself than to you. I want no other but you.

You tilted your head in confusion. “My apologies, I did not catch that.”

“I am excited to learn more about your pies.” He said, calmly, tapping one long finger on the painted image of an apple pie.

For some reason you felt as if he was lying, but pushed it away and focused on the recipe book.

You found it odd that the next night, Aemond was late. You waited for him, anxiously adjusting your notes, tapping on the covers of various books, eyes flickering to the doors every other moment. Finally, after an hour had passed you sighed, and gathered your things, before tucking them on the shelf you and Aemond had commandeered for your nightly lessons.

Walking through the aisles, you headed out of the library intent on retiring to your chambers, heart heavy as doubt wormed your way into your mind.

Perhaps the prince had gotten bored of you. Or did not wish to waste his time teaching a girl from a small house, when there were plenty of ladies from much more powerful families vying for his attention. Tears began to slid down your face, and you bit your lip to keep from making any noise. You were a fool to think he would be truly interested in you.

“Lady y/n?” Aemond’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

He was flushed and disheveled, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Prince Aemond? Did you run here?” You raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh.

He took your hands in his, expression earnest and apologetic. “My apologies for being late, I had to get rid of a particularly enthusiastic lady and her equally enthused mother.”

You had forgotten that the queen was bringing in ladies for Aemond to consider marrying. “Well, if you need to tend to your duties, I understand.”

He shook his head, eye scanning your face. “You were crying?”

You gave him a watery smile. “No, I was yawning.”

“Iksā gevie yn iā quba pirtirys.” He said, releasing one of your hands, his calloused fingers wiping away your tears. You are beautiful, but you are a bad liar.

“Se iksā iā dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys kessa daor hae īlva meeting bisa ñuhoso.” You replied, realizing your time together must end if either of you were to marry well. And you are a prince, your wife will not like us meeting this way.

Aemond pressed your hand to his lips. “My wife will find no grievance in our meeting if she happens to be you.”

“You wish to marry me?” You could hear your heart pounding in your ear, surely this was a jest.

“Avy jorrāelan; nyke jaelagon naejot dīnagon ao.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses to each of your knuckles, his eye watching your face for a reaction. I love you; I wish to marry you.

“Yes, kesan dīnagon ao.” You smiled, throwing your arms around his neck, and pulling him down to kiss him.

His hands gripped your waist, his hair falling across your skin like water. His heated lips claiming you as his own, pulling you deeper and deeper until you were breathless and giggling, basking in the warmth of your soon-to-be husband.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper

[hoofpeet]

why don't you like Colorado?

Also, what typeface do you use for your comics?

I switch between Bell MT and Poor Richard every once in a while!! And for Colorado-- this state would probably be nice to live in if it wasn't literally impossible to find stable housing-- I'm probably biased here because we've been having an ESPECIALLY rough go of it but . Both times we looked for apartments here the search took 3+ months to secure a place, with ~2,100 a month apparently being kinda low for this area. The majority of my coworkers are either currently looking for a place or were evicted/priced out of their last places so . TL;DR The housing situation is a literal nightmare around here

[polyamorouspunk]

Oh my gosh could you make me a moodboard?

Aaah your header and icon remind me of 2 of my favorite animated movies….

[thereisnoafter]

El Hierro

[tortademaracuya]

Gmail deberia darte la opcion de recagarte a trompadas en persona

[moonpascal]

this is not good for me in my current state els!!! you know i’m crying already 😭

i thank tumblr (for once) for lining up perfectly for us to begin interacting and blossoming into a friendship to sisters!

[azover]

Argentines presten atención a lo que esta pasando en estados unidos, inglaterra y rusia ahora mas que nunca, no porque tengamos que darle mas importancia al exterior que a nosotros, todo lo contrario: lo que se haga allá se va a intentar acá.

Cuando le dije a mi familia que tenia MIEDO de que asuma milei, no puse énfasis en las medidas económicas, sino que les rogué que no lo votaran porque mis derechos como una persona trans iban a estar en peligro, que mi existencia iba a estar en peligro, creyendo que eso iba a convencerles de que el tipo este es lo peor que hay. Mi abuela parece mas feliz de que haya perdido el peronismo.

Mi novia es una mujer trans inglesa. Se muy bien cómo es la vida de una persona trans en un país que te odia con fervor. Y ahora están haciéndolo peor: en espacios de salud comunes y en escuelas.

Si bien no quiero que nosotres en Argentina no lleguemos a eso, tampoco quiero ignorar lo que pasa allá, lo que pasa en los países primermundistas. No quiero ignorarlo porque "se las van a arreglar": sabemos muy bien que no es tan fácil, y menos en países donde no podés protestar, o les chupa un huevo total sos minoria y pueden hacer lo que quieran.

No quiero ver cómo gente como yo sufre más y más todos los días, y ver la ola de odio tocar la puerta.

Sigo con miedo. Por todes nosotres.

[thedaily-beer]

El Segundo Lost in the Mail Quadruple IPA (Picked up at Windmill Farms). A 4 of 4. On par with some of the best big West Coast IPAs -- bursting with lots of citrus, light tropical fruit, pine, and resinous notes in the body too. Yeah the alcohol burn is here along with some of the bitterness, but there's quite a bit of malt sweetness to help balance mid-body and make this palatable.

[nadiuu]

I needed to draw this scene from a fic I'm writing because it keeps replaying in my head and won't let me move forward with the story. They're adorable, and I CAN’TTTT

To give you some context: It's been a few months since Mello arrived at Wammy's House. The trauma he carries with him keeps him awake at night. He still doesn't speak English well. Despite everything, he has managed to position himself as number 1 to succeed L (Near hasn't arrived yet), and at times he still behaves like a sweet and happy child.

Matt is completely confused. He's starting to question his sexuality before even reaching puberty. The only thing he's certain of is that Mello is ✨beautiful✨

An excerpt (in Spanish, sorry ;w;) below the cut:

—¿Se reían de tu pelo? —Mello parecía verdaderamente sorprendido. Él sólo asintió lentamente, algo avergonzado—. ¿Por qué?

—No lo sé. Los abusones no dan explicaciones. Es bastante normal que se burlen de los pelirrojos. Súmale mi nombre, el hecho de que sea zurdo… Soy rarito.

—No lo eres.

Una de aquellas manos traviesas, las mismas que minutos atrás querían golpearlo entre risas, jugando, se alzó entonces del suelo con delicadeza y fue a posarse sobre su cabello. Mello no era muy dado a compartir gestos tiernos, por eso le sorprendió tanto a Matt; de nuevo lo dejó perplejo, conteniendo el aliento, inmóvil.

Le estaba acariciando el pelo.

—Tu pelo es bonito —musitó Mello, absorto en la acción—. Yo nunca visto un color así.

El vuelco que sintió Matt en su interior fue indescriptible. En la boca de su estómago se agitaban un millón de nervios que le secaron los labios y lo hicieron aferrarse al pantalón del pijama en un intento por disimular el temblor de manos.

Si Dios existía, que le perdonara por sentir lo que sentía con aquel niño.

—A mí me gusta —siguió diciendo Mello, y después dirigió la mano hacia su cara y lo tomó de la mejilla para acariciarle con el pulgar—. Tienes pjegice.

—Pecas —dedujo Matt.

—Hm, eso, pecas. Eres bonito.

—Guapo —lo corrigió, hecho un amasijo de nervios.

Los niños eran guapos, no bonitos.

Los niños no se decían esas cosas entre sí.

—Se reían de ti porque no tenían tu pelo pelirrojo ni tus picas.

—Pecas.

Por fin lo soltó.

—Eso, pecas. —La sonrisa que Mello le dedicó fue la más cálida que le había visto hasta el momento—. Te tenían envidia. Mi madre decía que si alguien se reía de mí era porque me tenía envidia. Porque no tenía mi pelo bonito ni mis ojos bonitos.

Que un niño utilizara tanto la palabra “bonito” era peculiar. Que tuviera un gesto tan cariñoso con otro niño también lo era. Era poco “masculino”. No era lo que se esperaba de ellos. Las acciones y el aspecto de Mello no se correspondían con su género, y a Matt le inquietaba verse arrastrado por él de aquella forma.

[amethvysts]

hello kween! venho aqui encarecidamente perguntar como os meninos reagiriam à nossa leitora pedindo para eles buscarem uma coquinha (zero, claro) sem gelo bem no meio de um momento importante do jogo, fazendo ele voltar lá pq trouxe a coisa errada (pq ela falou errado de propósito), tal qual a cena de como perder um homem em dez dias que virou trend no tiktok. quem tem paciência de santo e quem quase termina com ela lá na hora?

o pipe é uma escolha óbvia pq sabemos que ele é doente pelo river e frequenta o estádio, mas sinta-se livre para ~imaginar como os outros meninos de sua escolha reagiriam também. bisous! ❤️

gente pq vocês gostam tanto de torturar o coitado do pipe aqui mdss obv hablarei sobre os dois apaixonados por futebol que sonham em morrer em briga de organizada, simón e pipe

com o pipe, eu realmente acho que ele vai, pela primeira vez, cogitar começar uma briga contigo porque ele vai, sim, ficar muito, mas muito, puto. cara, que dó dele, sério, porque o pior é que ele vai continuar tentando de agradar durante todo o jogo, mesmo que isso signifique perder um gol do artilheiro – ele escuta a torcida enquanto tá na fila da lanchonete, e dá um suspiro tão derrotado que ele quase senta e chora ali mesmo. é tortura pro coitado. e aí quando volta, segurando tudo o que você pediu e com muita raiva, mas tentando disfarçar, ele abre um sorrisão amarelo e praticamente empurra a comida na sua mão. mas, aí é que tá: se você pedisse pra ele pegar mais alguma coisa na lanchonete do estádio, ele vai! e aguenta todos os seus caprichos quietinho... até vocês chegarem em casa. assim que você passa pela porta, pipe te chama pra conversar, de braços cruzados e a expressão mais séria que você já viu no rosto dele. e então, começa o discurso sobre o quanto o river é sagrado, e que foi muita injustiça o que você fez com ele, afinal, sempre que você tá assistindo a sua série ou fazendo algo importante, ele jamais te atrapalhou daquela forma. vai ser que nem um pai dando bronca no filho, o tom de voz firme, o rosto exasperado e passando as mãos no cabelo, tirando a mecha que cisma em cair sob os olhos claros.

já o simón não vai ter um terço da paciência que o pipe tem com você. até vai buscar o seu primeiro e segundo pedidos, correndo arquibancada acima, tentando não perder nenhum dos lances do jogo. e quando ele chega, ofegante e te estendendo o saco de pipoca só pra receber outro pedido teu, ele faz uma cara, mas Uma Cara™ que te deixa até sem jeito. "tá de sacanagem?" ele respira fundo, mas em menos de cinco segundos já tá dando as costas pra você e voltando pra lanchonete, indo atrás do que você pediu. mas, todavia, contudo, entretanto... saiba que ele vai devolver na mesma moeda e até pior. e ele guarda a situação beeem no fundo do peito pra poder revidar, tá? quando você senta sua bundinha linda no sofá pra assistir o teu programa favorito no sofá (pensando, óbvio, que seria algo ao vivo e que não estaria disponível em nenhuma outra plataforma depois da apresentação original – sim, ele vai confirmar só pra conseguir te torturar direito), simón, além de parar toda hora na sua frente enquanto finge falar no celular, ou passar de toalha pra te atrapalhar, com certeza vai se fingir de doido e sentar em cima do controle, mudando de canal "sem querer". "ai, amor, tava assistindo, é? foi mal," aí ele te entrega o controle, mas desliga a televisão só pra te dar mais trabalho. enquanto tá sentado ali no seu lado, vai ficar falando alto – e sozinho! –, vai brincar com o cachorro de vocês só pra fazê-lo latir, cutucar o seu ombro pra chamar sua atenção... isso se ele estiver se sentindo particularmente bonzinho no dia, tá? porque é provável até que ele desligue a eletricidade no painel elétrico e finja que a luz acabou.

[feyhunter78]

I literally just asked for a different one but I came up with another. Can you do a one shot where Aegon falls for the Maesters assistant who argues with the maester after asking the husband whether to save the wife or child and not the woman herself. He likes her fire and stubbornness and invites her to drink with him. They bond over trauma and stuff and he gets all suggestive saying oh the things I would do to you and that fire of yours… he then proceeds to ask her to marry him. Again is okay as she’s a 4th daughter to a high-ish lord. After the proposal starts though he goes on about how he would fan the flames to make them higher and any other man would put them out and that sort of stuff. It ends in them sharing a sweet kiss though

Don't even worry, I love getting multiple requests, especially when they're both such good prompts!!!! This one I really ended up enjoying, it was a lot of fun to write!!!!

The Maester's Assistant

Aegon sat next to Aemond, hand on his shoulder as they both grimaced at the screams coming from Aemond’s wife. This was the first of their babes, and Aegon knew it was taking all Aemond had to remain outside.

“Perhaps a drink will calm your nerves?” He suggested, offering his flask to him.

“I do not wish to drink; I wish for my wife to no longer be in pain.” Aemond spat, slamming his fist against the bench, and standing.

The door flew open and the maester hurried out, followed by a young woman. You were quite beautiful and had a furious look on your face.

You grabbed the maester’s sleeve. “The princess and her babe can be saved; we must change her position—”

The maester cut you off. “My prince, Lady Alyra is in great pain, I fear if she does not give birth soon, we shall have to chose between her or the child.”

“No, we will not, and even if that time comes, it should the princess’ choice, my prince. It is her life we are gambling with.” You said, standing between the maester and Aemond.

“If you kill me, I will haunt all of you and this wretched place for the rest of your lives.” Alyra screamed, her voice filling the hallway.

Aemond’s face drained of blood, and he pushed past them and into the birthing room. “Save my wife, we will have another child if she so wishes, but I will not lose her.”

Aegon stepped back from the door, thankful he was not the one having to deal with his goodsister.

“That is the twice you have spoken out of turn, you will remain outside until you are called for.” The maester hissed, pushing you further into the hall.

You stumbled and Aegon stepped forward, catching you. “Are you alright?”

You brushed off your skirts. “Yes, thank you.”

He offered you, his flask. “Quite bold to stand up to the maester like that, I admire a woman with fire.”

“I am working, I should not drink.”

He shook the flask, and you glanced back at the door.

The screams went silent, then a small cry rang out.

“It seems your work is finished for the day.” He smiled, flask still in his outstretched hand.

You sighed. “I will have a drink, but not from that, it would be inappropriate.”

Aegon tucked his flask away and held out his arm for you. “Perhaps I might escort the lady to the finest winery in the lands, then?”

“Oh, will we take your dragon to Highgarden then? I have always wished to ride a dragon; they seem to be magnificent creatures.”

He smirked, as he took your arm and led you down the hall. “There is no need to leave King’s Landing if you wish to ride a dragon, my quarters are just around the corner.”

You looked at him with a shocked look on your face, but his smirk stayed.

“Does that line every truly work?” You deadpanned once you recovered from his words.

“You would be surprised.” He said truthfully, thinking back on how many women had followed him back to his chambers after he uttered that line or one similar to it.

You raised an eyebrow. “I have no doubt I would.”

Aegon laughed and held the door to the kitchen open for you. “My lady.”

“Thank you, good sir.” You replied, your voice a performance of politeness.

Two hours later you found yourself leaning up against Aegon, one bottle of wine in your hands versus the two in Aegon’s.

“He treats me like a common child, I am a lady of the court, and I have worked hard to have this opportunity to study under him, but his methods are barbaric.”

Aegon nodded, his words slurred. “I have lived my entire life knowing my parents despise me, well I speak falsehoods I am not entirely sure my father knows I still exist. Either way, I have tried, and it is never enough for them.”

“That, my prince, is the burden all women face. We will never be good enough, never be worth more, even if our efforts say otherwise.” You clinked your bottle against one of his.

He dropped his, letting it roll away, and grabbed your free hand, pressing it to his lips. “Lady y/n, you fought for my goodsister today, you shall be my personal healer, if Alyra does not request you first.”

You pulled back your hand. “That is kind, my prince, but you are drunk and slobbering on my hand.” You wiped the back of your hand off on his tunic. “I doubt you will remember this come the morn.”

“That fire, that wit.” He caressed your cheek, suddenly seeming stone-cold sober. “If you would only allow me, I would fan that flame into an inferno.”

“Now, you are a poet?” You giggled, meeting his lavender eyes.

“If I was a poet, I would spend my time raving about your beauty, how it calls to me. How your tenacity, inspires action in others, and how your spirit of fire makes my heart and my cock yearn for the flames of your anger to turn upon me.” He leaned closer, his lips a hair breath from yours, brushing against them as he spoke. His voice was low and sent heat to your core.

Your face was flushed with warmth, your heart pounding in your chest. “I do not know what to say.”

“Say you will be mine, Lady y/n.” He said, placing your hand on his cheek and nuzzling into your touch.

“I have been likened to fire before, other men have crumbled and turned to ash.” You warned him, caught between a rush of affection and a rush of fear. Perhaps you had been foolish to follow the prince down here.

“I do not care, burn me, purify me in your flames until I emerge a man worthy of your affection.” His lips were kissing down your bent arm, and goosebumps followed their trail.

You gently removed your arm. “Prince Aegon, if you truly feel this way, find me tomorrow and ask again.” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then left.

It was noon, and you were starting to believe your own fears, Aegon had sobered up and either forgotten his words or regretted them.

A frenzied knocking at the maester door sent you rushing to open it, fearing the worst.

Instead, Aegon stood there, hair wet, new clothes and a panicked look in his eyes.

“My prince? Is everything alright?” You asked, ushering him inside.

“Your favorite color is blue; it’s calming and reminds you of the ocean. You became a healer to help women and children survive not only the birthing bed, but the rest of their lives.” His words tumbled out and he grabbed your shoulders.

“Yes, these things are true. Do you feel sick?” You gently removed his hands.

He intertwined your hands and fell to his knees. “Y/N marry me, let me burn alongside you, I do not care if there are scorch marks, I will cherish each one.”

You started at him scanning his face, sincerity oozed from his very skin, and you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.”

Aegon stood and pressed his lips to your temple. “My ember, I swear to you, I will spark a blaze within you, no other man will ever be able to step foot near you, no other touch will satisfy as mine does.”

“Loud voices often shout words they are not willing to back.” You teased.

He nipped at your earlobe. “I have no qualms about waiting, I shall take you on this table right now. The pleasure I give you will stoke your flames higher and higher until the table is nothing but charred wood and ash. Even then I will not stop, not until you are writhing beneath me, and the whole of the Keep hears that smart mouth of yours screaming my name.”

You could not deny his words had your heart racing, and you grabbed the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He tasted of Dornish wine and citrus, his plush lips moving against yours with a skill that left you dizzy.

“My wife.” Aegon breathed against your lips, smile evident in his voice.

“My husband.” You echoed, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

“You shall be the greatest healer the realm has ever known, and I, your most valued patient.” He promised, pressing swift kisses all over your face and drawing a giggle from you.

“My favorite patient.” You smiled.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-errorr, @bellameshipperper, @the141bandicootndicoot

[tightjeansjavi]

🩷 Fandom Hug 🩷

Things I love about this fandom, in no particular order.

We are nerds, we love details, we know every line of dialogue and can answer a question on an outfit a character wore within 0.5 seconds of it being asked.

We know each others favourite interviews, photo shoots, and anecdotes.

We don't question the obscure situations we might write a character into, all for that one scene that kept us awake until we wrote it.

We roll our sleeves up and get stuck in whenever there's a new Ask game or poll.

We know each others queue tags and give them a nod like we're fetching the morning paper.

But most importantly, we show people that they're not alone. That it's cool to be a fan, to yell "OMG ME TOO" and to celebrate the talent and kindness of Some Guy™️ with people all over the world.

That's all I've got for now but I could talk about this all day!

El 💜

El, these are all such wonderful examples of why this community and fandom is such a wonderful place to be in 🥹 we all truly are just a bunch of nerds together at the end of the day! 🩷

Thank you for sharing,

-Gi

[postcard-from-the-past]

El-Ourit Waterfalls by Tlemcen, Algeria

French vintage postcard, mailed in 1902 to Paris