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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson.

warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, Aegon gets punched (but he redeems himself), a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW: it is smut but not very detailed so don't get your hopes up), with a sprinkle of softness

words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...)

author's note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I've been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven't seen a single fic * using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart.

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did.

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm's way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement, lady Y/N,” Cole teased.

“Well, I would've volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I've read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn.

Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least.

That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn't fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That's how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer:

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Velaryon boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it's hard not to, with the way she's been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There's a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice:

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you're all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate?

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure.

On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too.

Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How's your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I'm afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look:

“Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”

“Not when I'm with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond's words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart.

In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It's the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it's easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through.

You sit by Helaena's side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you:

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I'd like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out.

You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you've known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice.

The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum.

“Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I'm afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look:

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face:

“As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there's a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn't leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it's time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first.

“I couldn't help but notice your absence, lady Y/N. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing.

“I've always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you've never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze:

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Y/N, wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain.

Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is.

“Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read.

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time.

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of meters away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would've apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.”

“You weren't thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth.

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye.

You don't know if it's a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that's left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I've missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn't need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn't stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast.

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile:

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your clit, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry, Y/N,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly:

“I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there's an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don't know what's to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There's a brief pause before he adds:

“But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize:

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there's something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again:

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don't plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently) — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m super nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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babacontainsmultitudes · 7 months

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Let's Talk About Lincoln And His Dads, Okay?

I think people claiming that Lincoln and Grant "aren't so different after all" because, like everyone else in the show, they both have blood on their hands, have mostly missed the mark on where the core of Lincoln's issues with his dad(s) lie in the first place.

Moreover, I'm tired of people insinuating that Lincoln's troubles pale in comparison to Normal's or Scary's or Hermie's, and I'm tired of people saying that Lincoln is overreacting, or that Lincoln is a hypocrite for calling out his dad's behavior, or that he is in the wrong for setting boundaries, or that he's ungrateful, or that he's responsible for ensuring his dad's emotional wellbeing and not the other way around!

*breathes* So let's. Let's finally talk about Lincoln and Grant (and Marco also him).

[WOAH THERE! Hey you, yeah you, this is a long-ass post, mhm, it's one of those, so please keep that in mind before venturing below the cut. Maybe grab yourself a drink or a bite to eat first, yeah? Additionally, sorry the transcript stuff is a bit messy in this one, tumblr has a 30 image limit and well, I had to find workarounds. Also, I haven't yet added alt text for the transcript screenshots- I plan to when I have a bit more energy for it, but I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause in the meantime!]

Part 1/4: "Honesty is hardly ever heard, and mostly what I need from you"

Lincoln is certainly a pacifist at heart (in more recent times important examples of this include Lincoln's refusal to harm Scary in the Swallows household, as well as Lincoln being the only one of the teens to successfully avoid using violence in front of d00d during their most recent standoff with Willy), and in good paladin fashion functions as the group's moral compass the majority of the time.

Despite this, Lincoln's morals are not so simplistic and idealistic as to not differentiate between different motives for violence, nor does he view acts of violence in and of themselves as signs that a person is "evil" or "irredeemable". He can for example, see the difference between the acts of Willy and those of the kiddads, as he tries to explain when confronted by the other teens on the matter:

In fact, even after Grant tells Linc all of this during the incursion:

Lincoln's primary goal is still to save his dad first and foremost, then offer him the room to explain himself, without immediately chalking him up as a bad person because of what he has done.

Lincoln certainly doesn't approve of Grant and his violence, though he can understand that things are seldom black and white. But the killing is far from the only issue here. In fact, it's not even the main issue.

Grant creates a foundation based on trust and accountability whose importance in the Li-Wilson household is hammered in from the very first episode.

And we see throughout the early episodes of the season just how strongly Lincoln believes that Grant would never lie to him.

Then of course the incursion point encounter happens. There are several elements of this encounter that we will gloss over for now and go back to later, but of immediate importance is the fact that this interaction serves as direct confirmation for Lincoln that his dad has in fact been lying to him his entire life.

Additionally, he learns that Grant possesses a deep hatred of himself, wants to die, perceives himself as "broken beyond repair", and fears that Lincoln will somehow wind up just like him. That's a lot for one kid to have dropped on them, let alone all at once and without warning!

So- Lincoln wants to confront his dad after this both because he wants his dad to explain himself and take accountability for his dishonesty and for his actions more generally, and because he is concerned for his dad's wellbeing.

Now let's look at how Grant has, over the course of the season, responded to Lincoln's attempts to get him to take responsibility for his actions, and talk about his mental health:

The first thing Grant does is pull a classic Wilson "we'll talk about it later". Then the very next thing he does is lie to Lincoln again, now pretending that his plan is to fix things with Erin by offering her a gift (when of course he's actually set out to steal the sun)

Then as a deflection when Lincoln further tries to confront him about the lying, he indirectly equates everything he has kept secret from Lincoln (see the incursion point stuff) to "little white lies" and, contrary to the philosophy he so heavily instilled in Lincoln, argues that sometimes lying can protect the people one cares about:

Which as a point of interest I would like to compare and contrast to something Lincoln says in an earlier episode:

"lies can protect" vs "protecting is also trusting"- anyways moving on,

From there Grant's plan to steal the sun eventually comes to light (heh) and gets foiled, forcing the teens to be the mature ones in the situation and try to negotiate something with Erin. While he is certainly disappointed by everything going on, however, Lincoln's priorities vis-à-vis Grant are still, first and foremost, to ensure that he is safe, and when time allows for it get an apology from him and get him to talk openly about everything he has withheld. At this point in time Lincoln, while obviously angry at his dad, still very clearly cares about his dad and just wants to be able to talk with him without all the lies or deflection or excuses.

Then the teens are backed into a corner when their attempts at negotiation go sour, and ultimately wind up helping Grant steal the sun. Once that is over, Lincoln tries to confront his dad again, now with regards to some of the things he said about himself:

(Do note that last bit especially as it will be of relevance in the next section)

Then after Grant ignores the other teens when they try to talk to him, Lincoln calls him out and once again asks him to apologize, in part for having told Lincoln previously that they were dangerous and that he was not to hang out with them:

(as you might have guessed, Grant does not apologize).

Then it is established that the "zone of truth" in the Li-Wilson household isn't actually a spell but an agreed upon promise between Marco, Grant, and Lincoln to tell only the truth when someone calls upon the zone of truth, further cementing the degree to which honesty is an important Li-Wilson family value. Whilst in the zone of truth, however, Grant beats around the bush with regards to his intentions, and the teens ultimately decide that they do not want him to come along with them to the church of the doodler, as he is untrustworthy, in addition to Lincoln saying that he needs some space for his own sake. Grant then pretends to respect this decision, though he is in fact once again lying through his teeth, and sneaks back on later.

Before exiting the bus for the first time, however, Lincoln tries to get his dad to open up a bit about his feelings. Grant's response?

Time after time after time, Grant refuses to confront himself and address anything from what occurred at the incursion, and in fact adds on to everything with a whole new slew of lies, and with each failed attempt at connection the rift between Lincoln and Grant increases. And Lincoln, true to his values and how he was raised, is not a hypocrite in wanting openness and accountability from his dad. Lincoln is not and has never acted like he is perfect and beyond making mistakes, but Lincoln takes responsibility for his actions, even when the degree to which he is actually complicit in the crime at hand is questionable. He writes a letter to the families of the firemen because he feels responsible for their deaths. He apologizes to Taylor for lying to him about the bracelets and helps not only Taylor but also Nicky escape the clutches of the FBI, even though the consequence of doing so could easily have been his own death. When he thinks he may have inadvertently lead Hero on, his immediate decision is to take accountability for it and clear things up. All of this in addition to consistently apologizing to his friends when he thinks he may have hurt them for one reason or another.

This is also an important thing to consider when we talk about the place of violence in the show. Yes all the characters, including Lincoln himself, have had to kill at some point or another for the sake of survival and protecting the ones they love. But Lincoln does not use the blood on his hands to justify violence in future decisions. Despite the fact that he has had to kill before, Lincoln, as mentioned in the beginning of this essay, continues to try incredibly hard to act as pacifist whenever he can, choosing to protect those around him with as little collateral damage as possible. Does he have a perfect track record? No! Does he still try his damned hardest to choose kindness and mercy? Absolutely! And this is an important distinction especially between Lincoln and Grant.

And then Grant kills Terry. Now Lincoln must shift his priorities towards protecting his friends from his dad, but in running after Scary still finds himself forced to confront him. So what does Grant have to say regarding his actions?

Both Lincoln and Scary are right to be furious with this response, Terry Jr. is dead and all Grant can offer in response is what is essentially another excuse. Grant's mental state does not absolve him of responsibility or accountability for his actions, which as Lincoln points out (and repeats later) consist not only of the singular choice of shooting Terry, but of every choice he has made before and after that. "I'm sorry your dad is broken" obviously doesn't bring Terry Jr. back, but perhaps more importantly demonstrates that Grant is still not willing to reflect on his actions any further than that and work on himself moving forward.

So Lincoln does what is perhaps the most difficult thing he has done in his life, and disowns his father. This is not a rash, impulsive decision. As established, Lincoln has given Grant many chances throughout the season to address his behavior and at least fucking *talk* with Lincoln about his mental state, but he refused. He refused, not because he means harm, but because Grant truly believes himself to be fundamentally broken and irreparable, and doesn’t see the effect that his own suffering is having on his son. This, in addition to continuously failing to take Lincoln seriously and treat him as more than a little kid, both in failing to listen to Lincoln's voices of concern as well as in disregarding any of his proposals to go about things differently (whether that means avoiding violence, trusting rather than lying, or both).

So when Lincoln says:

"It's not about what you just did now, Dad. It's all your choices. You chose me. There wasn't some passion, or, or just a kid. You chose me as your kid, knowing you were broken. You can't take that back. And… I love you, and I hate that you made me love you, when… you are who you are and you knew it."

This isn't Lincoln saying that Grant should not have had a kid because he is mentally unwell or has trauma, it is Lincoln saying that Grant continues to make choices without acknowledging his agency in those choices and the effect they have on those around him, instead choosing to pin his mistakes on his perceived brokenness without any resolution to do something about that.

And before you say, "but Grant didn't have a choice in becoming Lincoln's parent since he saved him from the Titanic":

This simply isn't true, as strictly speaking there was nothing stopping Grant and Marco from putting Lincoln up for adoption if one or both of them did not feel themselves to be ready or capable of taking care of a child and

Ignoring Lincoln's exact phrasing, "choosing to be a parent" is not just about the literal choice to have a child, it's about every choice you make before and after that. It's choosing not to express your concerns over parenthood with your spouse, which based on Grant's track record:

-Is definitely in-character for him. Conversely, in Marco's case, it may be choosing not to ask your partner about their feelings on the matter (because, really, asking Grant on the spot while literally on a sinking ship if he's okay with adopting the baby they just found is kinda rough). It's choosing not to go to therapy (not that we know whether Grant specifically did/does or not but all the same). It's choosing not to apologize when your child is upset with you because of something you did. It's choosing not to take them or their friends seriously. It's choosing to lie instead of trust. It's an endless amount of choices that Grant (and Marco) made every step of the way!

As a final note for this section, what's particularly unfortunate is that even with Lincoln's disownment, Grant still has failed to show any major signs of change. Note this telling exchange (from episode 40):

Grant: I-I understand that. I just thought. Just something that just occurred to me. Hey Dood.

Dood: Yeah?

Grant: Why did you kill those two guys?

Dood: Because I love you so much and I wanted to protect you.

Grant: Okay. That's all I wanted to know.

In which Grant is still making excuses rather than owning up to or apologizing for anything or striving to change his behavior in the future. What's great about Grant's "point" here too is that the two guards that d00d killed were absolutely unnecessary deaths, so this example does anything but work in Grant's favor.

Part 2/4: "My mother hates her body, we share the same outline"

But this is only part of the problem. As aforementioned, we learn early on and see repeated on multiple occasions that Grant thinks ill of himself to the point of believing that he deserves death, and does not want Lincoln to be anything like him.

This affects Lincoln in two major ways. Perhaps most obviously, it leaves Lincoln greatly concerned for his dad's wellbeing, which in turn acts as his main motivation for trying (and failing) to get Grant to explore and explain those feelings. Additionally, however, Grant's self-loathing also has a passive but deeply damaging effect on Lincoln's self-worth. The most important indication of this is when Lincoln says:

"Okay. Look, Scary, I just... You know what? I don't even care. I just needed a friend and I don't know… I don’t know what you're going through, but… no, my dad always said you can't love somebody unless you love yourself, right? Well, last time I asked him if he loved himself, he… He doesn't. So… I don't know, so maybe he doesn't love me either. And you seem to know what that's like, and, you're my friend! You're dealing with these things and I'm just here. I just, I don't know! I don't love myself either! I don't know! But I know that more people will die if we can't do this together, and you're the only person, like, in this group— I mean you guys are, I mean— [sighs] Look, you can go. I'm not going to stop you. You go if you want to go. I'm done."

Also classic Lincoln move to say he doesn't care then proceed to hug Scary through an Eldritch Blast. In this essay, on why people misuse the word "apathy" in applying it to Lincoln,

Though the issue comes up again in a less obvious but very interesting way when Lincoln says that:

Which I assume probably seems pretty out of left field. To explain a bit what I'm trying to get at here, consider the following scenario:

Your parent, who you care about immensely, possesses certain qualities (say, idk, intrusive thoughts or mood swings or delusional thoughts or *something*) that they possess great shame over, and truly, wholeheartedly believe makes them "evil" or unlovable or even outright deserving of death. Of course, you do not believe that your parent is any of these things, it hurts to see that they feel this way about them-self, so you try your best to support them, even if you know deep down that you are their child and this should not be your responsibility. Your parent does not see the effect that their mental state is having on yours, does not take your voices of concern seriously, and mostly leaves you feeling like you are talking to a wall.

This hurts already, but it gets worse. You are your parent's child, and you are human, and so you inevitably find yourself with some of the characteristics that your parent loathes so much in them-self. Maybe you have similar thought patterns. Maybe you've made similar mistakes. Your parent doesn't love them-self because of these qualities that you now see in yourself, so how can you be sure that they do not hate you for them too? Do they believe that you deserve to die for these things as well? Your parent obviously assures you to the contrary, after all, they love you more than anything. But your parent fails to offer any meaningful line of distinction between their flaws and yours (after all, there isn't one, not really), and continues to assert that, unlike you, they really do deserve to die. Your parent is a hypocrite, and their reassurance does little to convince you.

Hopefully that makes some sense. With regards to the "dreams about killing my dads" part, mostly what I'm trying to say is that these dreams, while certainly very different from Grant's conscious thoughts about violence, still tread the line of mimicking them to some degree, and Grant's "I deserve to die because of how my brain works, don't be anything like me because that's bad!" really doesn't leave Lincoln with a healthy way to process and interpret this fact about himself, even if these dreams don't actually say anything about who he is as a person.

Anyways all that to say, on multiple levels Grant's unwillingness to even try to love himself and treat himself better has been having effects on his son that he can't even begin to realize, in addition to everything discussed in the first bit.

"But baba," I hear you say, "what about Marco? Why has Lincoln seemingly disowned both of his dads?"

Part 3/4: Three is the loneliest number

Well, I think there's a couple things going on here. For one thing, I think in a sense Lincoln sees his dads as kind of a "package deal", which is to say that from his pov disowning Grant means Marco would have to pick a side, and though it pains him immensely (as we see evidence of on several occasions), Lincoln would ultimately rather give up Marco than have Grant be left alone without either of them, because he will always love and care about Grant, and because he's selfless that way.

Additionally, for a good long while, Lincoln doesn't actually appear to harbor any resentment towards Marco:

However, this later part of the season has brought with it a new wave of disillusionment, and in its wake Lincoln has finally come to question the last major issue characterizing his relationship with his parents: social isolation.

We have known from basically the first episode of the season that Lincoln has lived a very isolated, lonely life, and that the only reason he's even going to public high school now is because he finally convinced Grant to let him:

As a side note, I have seen discussion of the fact that since Lincoln was rescued from the Titanic, it's possible that he was homeschooled solely because he did not legally exist. The above statement from Matt seems to work against this theory, in addition to the fact that if Lincoln was missing legal papers to get into elementary school... That would also prevent him from going to high school. Also, I mean. If you actually were to find an abandoned baby there's a whole legal process you're supposed to go through, and since Lincoln surely wouldn't have any close blood relatives around, that would still leave the possibility for Grant and Marco to adopt him legally if they wanted to (and if they chose not to go through said process, that's kind of on them?). Which isn't to say that this theory is out of the question, but in any case being homeschooled is one thing, whereas the actual degree of social isolation Lincoln goes through growing up is way more than just that, as we will delve into.

Now, we know that Grant eventually puts an end to Lincoln and Normal seeing each other on the basis that Lark and Sparrow are dangerous, which... Itself is actually fair tbh, in particular given what we now know about Hero. Not fair to Lincoln or Normal, obviously, but understandable. Much less acceptable, is the fact that Lincoln actually grows up without any friends his age whatsoever:

We understand of course that the motives behind this extreme social isolation are not malicious or otherwise done with ill-intent, but that doesn't make this even remotely okay! Of course then Lincoln is very clingy and perhaps even territorial over his dads, to the point where one of his biggest fears is his parents having another child who would take some of their attention away from him- they've created an environment in which they are basically all he has!

As a direct result of this, Lincoln gets lonely very easily, and when he finally does make some friends of his own, he will do anything and everything for them, even if it means risking his own life (at least then he isn't alive and lonely!)

This is also why Lincoln is so especially distraught after the loss of Mr. Kicks, a digital avatar whom he considered his best (and only) friend.

Additionally, Lincoln's fear of returning to his lonesome childhood creates an unfortunate scenario in which he cannot be honest with his dads about the fact that he is being bullied at school

Even though that is definitely the case (and in fact we see it first-hand on many occasions), because to do so would run the risk of his dads taking him out of public school, and that, to him, is worse.

Lincoln beginning to view this aspect of his childhood (the isolation but also the over-protectiveness and overbearing attitude more generally) for what it is is why Matt's intros have recently shifted from "schooled at home" to "schooled in prison", in addition to pretty directly saying that high school was like heaven compared to his home life (in episode 40), and I don't think Lincoln is even remotely in the wrong for looking back at his isolation and thinking "hey, even if you had good intentions, that was kind of fucked up actually, and I need to distance myself from you for my own sake."

Not that Lincoln wanting freedom from his overbearing dads is a new thing! I mean apart from what one can logically infer from Lincoln convincing Grant to let him go to public school, Matt does drop a bunch of telling details here and there such as Lincoln's favorite sound being "the silence of being home alone and free". It's just that now is when these feelings are finally starting to come to the surface.

It is also something that Lincoln naturally would hold against both Grant and Marco, because they are both aware of and responsible for this aspect of his upbringing (whether Marco acted actively or as an enabler in the matter notwithstanding- though I would look no further than both Grant and Marco getting red cards the one time they tried letting Lincoln play soccer with other kids to observe how that family dynamic plays out), hence feeling the need to cut himself off from the both of them in order to set a long-overdue boundary. That said, to be honest with you, I really don't think he's actually all that upset with Marco, and would mostly just like to see him again.

If the events of the Titanic help to ease any aspect of Lincoln's frustration, it would be this one. Not in the sense that it magically makes what Lincoln went through growing up okay, but it does still recontextualize Grant and Marco's degree of overbearingness and (part of) why they are how they are, and I absolutely think that Lincoln would have sympathy for that.

So, where does that leave us?

Part 4/4: What remains (+ the case study of Scary)

"But baba," you say, "Grant and Marco are not just their mistakes! They've both done so many things right as parents, and they love Lincoln more than anything!"

I turn to you, tears in my eyes. "I know," I say, "I know, but that does not contradict or erase the fact that they have inadvertently hurt Lincoln in many, many ways, and he has a right to be upset with them, and express that, and set boundaries if he feels the need to."

You sigh. "So do you think Grant is a good dad or a bad one?" you ask.

I shake my head. "He's just... He's just a dad. A dad who's had a rough swing of things from the beginning. He never meant to hurt Lincoln, and I truly believe he's got a good heart, but I want to see him try harder. I need to see him try harder than he currently is to better himself, for Lincoln's sake as much as his own."

Is... More or less how I feel. I absolutely agree that as a parent Grant obviously gives a shit, and my intention here is absolutely not to say "hey actually, Grant is awful!"

As I mentioned at the very beginning of this essay, however, collectively I have found over the course of the season that Lincoln's trauma and struggles have gone severely understated and undermined, sometimes to the point of even turning him into the bad guy or depicting him as acting dramatic for a decision that I think was very brave of him, actually. So... It does feel necessary to me to point out that, as much as I care about Grant and recognize that he's suffered immensely too, he's still made a lot of mistakes over the course of the season, and still has a lot of room to grow as a person.

As things currently are, I would not blame Lincoln if he did not forgive Grant by the end of the season. Do I think that's what's gonna happen? No lol.

If you'll excuse a mini side-tangent, because for now I don't really want to make this a separate post, the mid-season evolution of Lincoln and Scary's relationship is actually a great case study for Lincoln's capacity for forgiveness, in addition to his inability to give up on people:

Tony Pepperoni's murder is, I would argue, an attack against Lincoln most personally (relative to the other teens). Aside from Lincoln having the strongest pacifistic tendencies of the group, it's in his home, it's in front of Marco, as established in the 3rd section Tony Pepperoni, by virtue of having been over for dinners at the Li-Wilson household before, is someone Lincoln knows more personally than the other teens and one of the only people in his life he could have possibly approximated to a friend. Most importantly though, Scary goes behind Lincoln's back in letting Willy out and disclosing the location of the party, and that is a significant breach of trust.

So Lincoln kicks Scary out of the house (and more or less out of the group by extension) because protecting the others from her is the most important thing at that point in time (sound familiar?). For the next bit, Lincoln's behavior towards Scary becomes a juggling act of keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't cause more harm (and yes, it's also when they are meanest with each other), but also keeping a close eye on her to look after her (a notable example of this being that he doesn't leave her behind in the hall of mirrors, even when it would have been easier and perhaps even "beneficial" to do so in the context of the anchor quest).

And yet despite all the mutual hostility, Lincoln without question also fights the hardest to get Scary back. He breaks the pick as a sign of trust (and as Freddie put it: "that's love babeeey") and to show her she's welcome back in the group, follows through on this decision despite the fact that it creates a temporary rift between him and the others (Normal and Taylor) who oppose her return (perhaps a good time to also say as a reminder that Lincoln was the most against letting Willy out in the first place), breaks a door down to protect her from Willy even when everyone else in the house treats him as crazy for doing so, refuses to fight Scary when she goes on the offense, and hugs her through a god damn eldritch blast because he can't let her leave and hurt more people but still cares about her to the point that he would literally choose to die before hurting her or giving up on fighting for her. Like, if that's not love and forgiveness, I don't fucking know what is. This in addition to him encouraging the others to go easy on her and otherwise looking out for her past that point.

So do I think Lincoln Li-Wilson has it in him to forgive Grant in spite of it all? That is a resounding yes from me. Will the events of the Titanic facilitate this if only by painting Grant's situation in a more sympathetic light and showcasing some of his virtues? Totally, I mean, there's a reason Anthony decided to make the arc go this way. But will I be a bit disappointed if this forgiveness comes without any major growth on Grant's part? Also. Also yes yeah.

MM. I DON'T REALLY KNOW HOW TO END THIS ONE TBH. Heh. Well, thank you for one thing, for taking the time to read a post this long. If you're reading this not too long after I posted it I am most definitely pacing around rn going "oh god they hate it!" but uh. Well that's a me problem lol. Anyways, I hope this proves to be at least somewhat insightful? ...Yeah no apart from that I really am struggling to end this properly and honestly I'm real sleepy lol so I'll just say again (whether you agree with the points listed here or not) THANKS FOR HEARING ME OUT Y'ALL AND TAKE CARE.

#dndads #lincoln li wilson #grant wilson #Nervous about this one! Well I always am with these but people can be a bit touchy when it comes to Grant especially so there's that.#dungeons and daddies #but what can you do ig!#marco li #long post #baba babbles #<- tag I still don't use usually smh #second section especially I think is where I'm really like- man I *hope* I'm expressing myself alright and people get what I'm laying down #scary marlowe #suuuuure yeah enough Scary here that I can tag her in I think

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