#i do be loving their trope though

[motherfuckingmaneater]

Be honest Bellatrix, how much gold have you spent on the dark lord?

I'm what the muggles would call his sugar mommy.

[lauraneedstochill]

Can’t help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

1.

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you’re standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

“It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?” a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry.

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction. “It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

“She didn’t interrupt a thing,” he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

“Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,” he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

“Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.”

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 2.

It’s been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn’t left the bed. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn’t an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn’t leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn’t help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He’s only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He’s startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human’s silhouette — and then another few to realize that it’s you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

“They told me no one was allowed into your chambers,“ your hushed whisper burns his ear. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. “I knew I had to find a way to come see you.”

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that’s still healing.

“Does it hurt?”

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit. 

“I will take his eye,” you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might’ve heard it wrong.

“...Whose eye?”

“Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours,” you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice quiet but firm. “The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed.”

“Well, maybe he is too old to think straight,” you retort. “You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail,” you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

“Are you sure I can’t take his eye?”

At that moment, he can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it. 

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can’t lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke’s eye isn’t worth the trouble.

3.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince. 

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid’s persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it’s you standing in front of him. 

Aemond barely has time to register what’s going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can’t see it, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly.”

“I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval,” he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

“While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers,” you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

“I am friendly enough!”

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you’re clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing”.

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you’re talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand.

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure. “Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn’t sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

“The gem compliments your eye very well,” you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

“We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is.”

“This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks,” you chide him lightly. “And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?”

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you’re too concentrated on something, and Aemond can’t help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface. 

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glancing at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

4.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn’t seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone is counting). It’s not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn’t leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to King’s Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon’s birthday, but Aemond didn’t care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond’s feelings for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider her part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it’s all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days.

Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say. “It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you.

Aemond hesitates. “I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add, “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

5.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can’t hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can’t think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to her,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe she is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them. “You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him. “Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.” The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again.

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute. 

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You are looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face.

Taken aback, you inquire. “You pity me?” He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can’t get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,” he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

“Yes, I remember it pretty well,” you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. “Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

“Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories.”

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying. 

“Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her,” the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

“Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in,” he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

“I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness,” he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

“When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine,” you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

“I think you actually enjoyed it,” you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

“I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you.”

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

“The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar,” he pauses, catching his breath. “You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you.”

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm’s length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you’re in, you look so beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence.

“Aemond, please don't give me false hope,” your heartbeat is too loud, you don’t hear your own voice. He does.

“I do not wish to marry you out of pity,” Aemond takes the last step. “I want you to be my wife because I am in love with you,” he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually,” his voice gets low. “For what feels like an eternity,�� Aemond murmurs.

“Why haven’t you told me?” you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?” his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

“Tell me that I am wrong,” he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

“Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices,” you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were ten-and-three, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you is tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fans over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth. His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that’s to come.

author’s note: I’m sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I’m a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don’t want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, thank you for reading! 💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley’s song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there’s also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. 💞 my masterlist P.S. I’m also on AO3 (lol, who isn’t), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[benjaminthecoathanger]

okay, because i saw a poll earlier and i thought the choices weren't clear enough and also the answers i saw to it annoyed me and also i'm curious:

NOTES:

I am including having watched gameplay of a game and not having played it as having watched the source material

In this context if you are writing fic/making art and you are not being commissioned to do so. This is purely for funsies

You getting into something because you saw a post/gifset/video about it and then watched the source material does not count. That's just how you get into new things.

Goncharov does not count because it's not real. I'll break kayfabe here I don't care.

[spirk-trek]

i don't think you understand how much i love pretty!kirk, who is so pretty in fact that when they go on shore leave in the city everyone of every gender and species is just doing double takes because they're drawn to his open pretty smile and glittering eyes and long eyelashes and perfect curl of perfect hair on his forehead, and when he goes into a bar it only takes one second for his drink to be bought and paid for, and he's a little bit oblivious, doesn't even realize how pretty he is, so pretty spock's heart literally stops in his side sometimes even though he's desensitized himself to the USUAL level of ✨pretty✨ after years of practice, but all it takes is jim's hair to be a little wet or for him to laugh a little too hard and it's like this dazzling beam of light that slices through the whole world because he's so pretty

[thelaurenshippen]

I spent a chunk of yesterday making a bunch of these trope memes for atypical's shows and when I tell you I BLANKED on how to describe a show I spent the better part of my twenties writing...

I'm really curious, TBS listeners, what tropes/identifiers/hooks would you use to get someone to listen to the show?

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[benzatthanin]

DEAD FRIEND FOREVER | Ep 7

[irritablepoe]

y'all overnight i became a fyobram shipper and i'm now fully convinced they also had a toxic codependency thing going on

[vaguely-concerned]

man playing a dragon age game as an abomination would rock so tremendously tho. you're a possessed person and you have to play as two characters making up one person and balance it out so one half of the equation doesn't swallow the other half. maybe you could choose what kind of spirit at the beginning of the game and it would count as your class basically. It Would Be Cool

[rubra-wav]

Entry #7 : Vox and Blackouts, Connection, etc.

A/N / Disclaimer : Fanfic is fanfic, and people are allowed to make things as OOC or just in their own image as possible, so I'm not shitting on that at all. Everyone has the right to make whatever tf they want and explore concepts and stuff.

This is just me vomiting ideas that have been plaguing me for a while.

If I'm proven wrong by the show, then I'll eat my hat and apologise for this one, but for now I'm trying to think about this stuff like - as logically in the frame of what's canon as possible.

It's funny to say that when this is the topic but yeah haha 💀

Ah yes, theorising about the goddamn TV Man again.

Cw: SFW to NSFW/18+ (below cut)

- So, let's establish some things before I begin to truly dig into this haha.

- Vox is not wireless, and thus does not get effected by things that are not directly connected to him. This is seen with him directly plugging into his set-up before being able to control all the TV's and devices connected to the main-frame.

- This would most likely mean that when the whole system goes down, he isn't affected by it and vice versa if he's not directly plugged into it. So yeah- if he blue screens or glitches out like he does just casually while not plugged in, then the whole city most likely would not blackout.

- An anon asked me about whether he would just go offline if the WiFi was down or if he would be just fine and yeah - he'd be just fine if he wasn't plugged in. If he was, however, then he'd most likely lose reception. He'd probably blackout/shut down.

- For an example: if he's plugged in and it's storming outside and lightning hits the main tower, then he'd probably be pretty injured because his system would be fine. But if he wasn't plugged in he'd be absolutely fine.

- I also could see his face dropping to low resolution and voice doing the blocky-glitchy thing audio over calls does if he's plugged into the system and the reception goes to absolute shit.

- Think 180p quality display and audio Vox lmao.

(Here's the other post as well)

- Having said all that, I also don't think that there wouldn't be any effect at all on surrounding technology if he starts glitching out.

- If he's near things like phones, laptops, lights, etc. Etc. He'd likely effect them, but on a way smaller scale then what most people seem to write about.

I'm gonna start going into directly NSFW below the cut

- So yeah, if you're just casually fucking Vox really hard and he starts glitching or goes to the point of bluescreening while coming, the whole of Pentagram city isn't going to experience a blackout because he's not plugged into the system.

- However

- He would most likely start effecting the direct surrounding technology.

- Think lights blinking on and off or getting brighter and then dimmer to the pace you're screwing him at. Think surrounding devices turning on and off.

- Think light bulbs and phones and clocks in the room - anything electrical or running on batteries - exploding into shattered bulbs, being destroyed, getting fried, etc. When he comes.

- Bro basically starts doing what ghosts/poltergeists start doing to mess with people lmao.

- The trope of him causing whole city-wide blackouts when hes fucked so hard is funny as hell in theory, but going off of canon that wouldn't happen that way.

- And maybe you're saying 'okay - but what if Vox is plugged into the system' That would also not happen.

- Yes, if you did screw him into bluescreening while he's hooked up to everything then yes it would most likely happen.

- but, it goes against literally everything we know about Vox to have that ever happen.

- He is all about appearances and looking perfect 365 days 24/7 to the public.

- I keep seeing these fics where that happens and he's all embarrassed and cute about it, but if that ever happened with what we know about canon Vox he'd be mortified and fucking pissed as all hell around it.

- I feel like if you're in a relationship with Vox, the first thing he'd make abundantly clear is how important his image is to him.

- So if reader was riling him up in his office while he's around all the machines and stuff or actually directly plugged in - he wouldn't be going 'no, stop it' as a kind of bratty thing, he'd be seriously telling you to stop.

- Like, to push him to causing a city-wide blackout by having sex would absolutely in my mind based on all we know about Vox; be violating his boundaries to one of the highest degrees there are.

- His public image is everything, and you would be let know that from day one. Hell, dude would probably jeaprodise/push your relationship to the side if it fucked up his image. Thats how important it is to him. The boundaries around doing something to fuck his image up would be set in stone from the second you enter his life.

- So doing that and causing that to happen wouldn't really be?? Like the cute fanfiction trope it is, he'd be rightfully angry as fuck that that's happened because it's what not to do 101 to not screw up his image.

- The 'blackout' you'd be able to cause and not have him absolutely hating you afterwards would be with your house, hotel room or wherever you're doing the do.

I'm way too passionate about this, i know, but like I see it so frequently, and it just makes like absolutely no sense to me at all, haha. I liked it the first time i saw it but after actually thinking about it I just find myself raising my brows and cringing each time I see it in fanfics because it just feels inaccurate asf 😭

[freesneezes4every1]

Places to Sneeze Rated

Nobody asked for my opinion but I'm going to give it to you anyway. Please feel free to reblog with your own position.

Into cupped hands

- 7/10

- very cute, potential for for germs and contagion

- unfortunately hides the face of the sneezer

Tissues

- 4/10

- nice for germaphobes, practical

- a classic

- a little boring, you know?

- the aesthetic is nice though

Someone's neck

- 9/10

- so hot, I literally never get tired of it

- shoulder, chest and pretty much every other body part is great too

- only con is that you don't get to see the sneezes

Hanky

- 6/10

- like tissues but with a more personal touch

- Chaotic good vibes

Clothes

- 8/10

- hot, would definitely recommend

- I just think someone pulling up the collar of their shirt to sneeze is a widely underestimated concept

- like someone wanting to shield other people from their sneezes and just doing the first thing that comes to mind??

Elbow

- 6/10

- the definition of Lawful Neutral

- considering that this is how you're supposed to sneeze I see very little people doing it lol

- I just love the little jerking forward movement

Sneezing openly

- 9/10

- I love me some unabashed sneezes

- very great because you get to see everything

- great for fans of mess and contagion

- one of the sexiest things one can do

Someone's face

- 12/10

- yes, it's kinda gross but also the best???

- really is there anything hotter than getting into someone's space and just sneezing all over them

- seriously this trope is pure snzfckr bliss

Towards the ground

- 6/10

- haven't seen it a lot of times tbh

- someone not being able to cover for whatever reason is always hot though

Please feel free to add!!

[tophthedaydreamer]

character that was raised/created to be Evil: chooses to be Good

me, every time:

[hellothereiplaygames]

Some thoughts on Asra's route...

Replaying Asra's route after having played Muriel's really hits different...

In one of the other routes Asra and Muriel appear to start a romantic relationship, and in Asra's route it's very clear that Muriel cares very deeply for Asra and dislikes the Apprentice. He mentions in one of the paid? dream scenes that he's worried about Asra and the Apprentice fading into their own world and leaving everyone else behind (again, apparently), and that he's determined to stop this from happening. His concern for Asra and initial hostility toward the Apprentice may be rooted in jealousy, not only because his oldest (and only) friend was more or less taken from him, but perhaps with romantic connotations as well.

In Book XI: Justice, Asra and Julian stage a mock trial by combat against Muriel. Though he apparently agreed to participate and is implied to have returned to the Coliseum of his own volition, presumably out of concern for Asra, who has been accused of being Julian's accomplice... he is still more or less backed into a corner and forced to play along with Asra and Julian's plan to stage a fight.

Now, to be fair to Asra, he states after everything goes wrong that it wasn't supposed to end this way, and it appeared that he was attempting to not only exonerate himself and Julian from their charges but somehow help Muriel overcome his past (he does disintegrate Muriel's chains during the fight no matter what choices you make). There was a point during this that I thought I could guess what Asra's plan was regarding Muriel's past, but being refreshed on how it actually pans out, I can't remember it now. Something about making the people of Vesuvia realize how barbaric the Coliseum was under Lucio.

The thing that stands out to me throughout this whole ordeal is that Asra knows about Muriel's trauma. He knows he was enslaved to Lucio and forced to fight and execute people in the Coliseum. He knows that Muriel is terrified of hurting other people, especially those he cares about. In Asra's route, the only person Muriel cares about is Asra, so hurting him is triggering for him. He literally is in a stupor after the board he was using as a weapon splinters off and hits Asra in the mouth, making him bleed. This is clearly meant to make the reader worried about Asra, but Muriel reacts as well, and appears hypnotized by the blood. I remember the first time I read this I thought he was going to have some crazy berserker-Hulk sort of reaction, but having read his route, it's way more tragic.

Though Muriel did seem to return to the Coliseum of his own volition, it does seem that Asra took this as a sign that he was coming to terms with his trauma. He was willing to exploit Muriel's care for him in order to save his own skin so he can be with the Apprentice. Though I recognize Asra's other toxic traits to some degree, I also have similar ones myself so they don't really stand out to me. This, however, where he more or less disregards Muriel's feelings on the matter, is actually really crushing. In Muriel's route, his whole thing is that he DOES NOT want to fight, he DOES NOT want to even spar with the Apprentice with blunt sticks out of fear of hurting them, so why would he willingly go along with this unless he was more or less in the same position Lucio put him in? Fight in the arena, or something bad will happen to Asra.

Asra knows this, and puts him through it regardless. During the whole fight, Julian's actions are written so as to make it seem like he's the one messing things up--he takes the "finishing blow" that Muriel was going to deal to Asra and gets knocked unconscious. Asra spends most of the entire time doing flashy, dramatic magic tricks that get the crowd cheering for him. After he "wins", he and the Apprentice are carried out of the Coliseum like heroes. Though Asra will try to soothe Muriel if the Apprentice so chooses right before the end, and he does look for Muriel in the crowd, he seems otherwise unbothered or unaware of the impact this may be having on his oldest friend. Which is pretty shitty.

Of course, Asra, Julian, and Muriel are all playing characters during their fight--Asra is the flashy magician, Julian is the rogueish BDSM dagger guy, and Muriel is the Scourge. Asra obviously can't show his concern even if he wanted to because he's supposed to be fighting Muriel. But putting his bro into this situation in the first place says a lot about his character. Though Julian is the one whose route is based around self-loathing because he believes he hurts everyone around him, Asra is the only one who gets what he wants out of this ordeal, and he even says so right before the chapter ends. Muriel was forced to relive his trauma and didn't get the resolution that was intended, and Julian gets KOed by a punch that literally sent him flying across the arena (though he probably enjoyed it tbh, he's a nasty little man like that lmao).

I wonder if this dynamic between Asra and Muriel was intentionally written this way in order to further amplify his tunnel vision when it comes to the Apprentice. Is this is how he acted in the past, causing Muriel to hate the Apprentice as he does and remark that he won't allow it to happen again? Maybe (probably) I'm reading too much into it, but as a survivor of abuse and trauma it rubs me the wrong way much more than Asra's obsessive, clingy nature. Of all of the reversed ends, Asra's is the one that actually scared me and kind of haunted me, because it hits a little too close to home.

These are all just thoughts that I wanted to spill out because I thought it was interesting and I wasn't sure if anyone else has talked about it before.

[bellamyblakru]

idk why but the trope where character a changes the routine or something in the daily life of character b and character b complains and gets annoyed at the new addition and then suddenly one day character a gets genuinely upset and stops doing said thing which then makes character b all ☹️wheres the thing i miss the thing but has to pretend they want it back and is only doing it for character a’s sake when we all see its just them being in love or whatever is something i fucking LOVE to see?? every time???

[meirimerens]

straight up not respecting some of the alleged p2 characters' ages as they were given on the VA's papers bc you're telling me this is a 27yo man on the left & a 35(!)yo woman on the right? you jest. this woman is in her 20s at most. she doesn't have a wrinkle of age on her face. just worry. i know men age like milk this is taking the piss. i know patho 2 is the "hot blemishless 20something white(-passing) women" game but at this point own it. don't try lying to me. she doesn't look a day past 29. got friends below 25 with more winkles. in the first half of the 20th century too. where would she be getting her anti-aging serums.

you're telling me this woman who's a chronic worrier, dealing with chronic pain, who smokes like a locomotive to cope is allegedly 5 years Older than this guy who's been drinking himself to sleep for like 5 years.

(mike's mic voice) don't piss me off

[blackbackedjackal]

there's cliche's and then there's intentionally leaving a piece vague but it still having meaning and assuming your audience isn't stupid so they can come to their own conclusions about how the piece makes them feel based on visual language