#the man who made gravity falls everyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

homeheroine · 8 months

Note

Hey I was wondering how do you think the turtles from rottmnt would deal with them saying that they don’t think a human would ever date them. And their crush is very blunt “You’re so stupid for thinking that” normally crush isn’t the type to insult and before the turtles can say anything crush says this, “I’m human and I want to go on dates with you”?

Thanks for the request this is a good one!

author's note : this has not been read through so I apologize for anything that doesnt make sense. I'll come back and edit it later. enjoy! <3.

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"With my charm no one could resist me anyway." A cheeky smirk plastered across Leo's face as he landed onto the couch was enough to make the whole group groan.

"Nardo, no more of this please." Donnie sighed, taking a seat in his usual spot for movie night.

This seemed to be Leo's favorite topic of discussion these days. It's not the conversation itself that made everyone hate it, it was just the way Leo had such smugness about it. This was a sensitive topic for the turtles for obvious reasons. And as much as Leo talked about romance as if he had it in the bag, everyone knew from their late night convos that Leo was just as insecure, if not even more than the rest of them.

You had just reached the lair when this conversation began. You were in charge of pizza tonight and you had come with full arms. Stumbling into the kitchen you placed the pizza's on the counter. It didn't take long for you to hear the voices of the bickering brothers from the next room over as you quietly made your way to them. Pushing back the curtain you were able to catch a specific turtle rattle off an interesting comment.

Raph :

"All I'm say'n is, I can't imagine any human wanting to be with a mutant. Especially one that looks like me. If anything they would wanna be far from me! My spikes wouldn't make me a very cuddly partner haha..." Raph's laugh falls at the end. His face changed into something a little more sad.

"Dude, you look like a kicked puppy." You say crossing your arms while leaning against the entrance's frame.

"AH! WHA- HI. *ahem* hey Y/N. I didn't see you there." Raph jumped at your sudden appearance. Snapping his blushed face toward your figure that stood next to him. His brothers laughed at your coincidental appearance. It was no secret the way Raph felt about you, well except to you, and the fact that you appeared next to the giant pining turtle might as well have been scripted in a romcom.

You gave the room a weird look then turned to Raph, unable to help what you would say next. "I knew you were a little dumb, but that has to be one of the dumbest things I've heard you say." Your scowl followed you as you left the room. "I'm getting pizza."

Raph's face said it all. The brothers burst out into laughter after your exit. "You gonna take care of that whole situation big bro?" Leo said through laughs.

Raph blinked, quickly taking glances over his shoulder as he loudly whispered to his brothers. "Did you tell them!?" They laughed harder.

"Why on earth would that comment make you think that they would know?"

"Man I- ah I DON'T KNOW. Forget you guys." He said exasperated. The snapping turtle made his way to the kitchen stumbling in embarrassment and in an effort to escape his laughing brothers.

You were there, standing behind the counter gathering cups, napkins and the pizza boxes for movie night. Your arms were full and everything you were carrying was ready to topple over.

"mmmmm ahh AH!" You cried out trying to keep you and the items balanced. Taking another step, you and your treats leaned ready to fall. Just before gravity took you, your momentum was gently stopped. Looking up to see the hero that saved you from your fall you meet the eyes of Raph, who smiled nervously down to you. "Heyyy..."

"Raph." You said flatly. "Thanks."

He gave you an apprehensive chuckle. "For sure." Taking some of the boxes off the top of your stack he eyed you. "Are ya uhh... mad at me?"

It was your turn to eye him. "No."

"Okayy. Then uh what was that whole comment in the projector room? You were joshin with me right?" He placed the stack of pizza boxes down on the counter. His eyes met the floor. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you come after someone like that, maybe against Leo, but not me." He coughed, trying to clear the air of the thick tension.

"Sure Raph." You said bluntly grabbing some more paper plates from the cabinets. You cursed yourself in your mind. Why'd you say anything in the first place?? Now you were gonna have to explain yourself.

He paused, then in a quick breath added, "When why do you still sound upset? Are ya sure you're not mad? Cuz ya know. We can... we can always talk. I don't wanna upset you, like ever. And I'll understand if you dont wanna talk too. Just-just uh l-let me know if I ever make ya mad or somethin--"

You interrupted him, "Enough! I get it Raph thanks." He was spewing nonsense, clearly overthinking the situation. His face was sunken and his posture was rigid. What was making him so anxious? You sighed, knowing his nasty overthinking habit. You should clarify before he becomes a mess. Well, more of a mess. "I just can't understand, why do you think like that?"

He was confused. "Think like what?"

You sighed again, annoyed that he couldn't see the reason for your frustration. "I'm a human and I wanna go on dates with you."

Raph's face went blank. His heart stopped in his chest. "Wha-"

You took a long drawn breath in. It's now or never I guess. "Don't you get it Raph? I like you!" There was a long pause.

"You- you like me?" His eyes widened as a smile crawled to his face. His posture slowly became larger and un-slumped again.

"Oh my god Raph. OF COURSE I DO. Not only are you dumb, but you're also dense as hell too!" You yell in a flustered anger.

He didn't know what to say, his face was burning and his body felt weak. Needing to ground himself by holding onto the edge of the counter. You liked him. You liked him! "Man... I dunno what to say. I'm cheesin like mad hard." He was right too. He was smiling so hard he looked like he was about to cry. Your face was getting redder and redder by the moment as well. His expression was too much. You turned away from him attempting to hide your blush.

"I never thought I would ever have a chance with you, Y/N. I just thought... I dunno... like you would ever even look my way. Being a mutant and all."

"Raph, you should know more than anyone that the way someone looks shouldn't keep anyone from thinking about them differently than anyone else. But... you're more than just anyone else to me."

Now he was crying. You turned to look at him and watched the tears roll down his face. "Raph!" you rushed to him coming close to his chest, waving your hands in his face like you would try to wipe away his tears. "Ah jeez. Don't cry please."

He bent down to your level wrapping you in a tight hug. "I like you too."

Donnie :

"The day Donnie gets a partner before me, let me know cause I'll have a bet to pay up." Leo says, kicking his feet back onto the coffee table.

"That's not very nice Leo." Mikey said. You walked into the projector room, placing some of the pizza boxes you brought onto said coffee table.

"Well tell me I'm wrong!" He says opening an eye at you. "Not only is he the least best looking twin but he's also a mutant! No human would ever be interested in someone like him."

Donnie rolled his eyes. Not unfamiliar with being the butt of Leo's "jokes". "First of all, I'm not your twin. And second of all that comment brings zero new data to the conversation. Humans still look at us with caution. All of us. Even after all we do for this city." He said in a matter of a fact tone.

You didn't even have time to think before the words spilled from your lips, "Well, I'm a human and I like Donnie." All eyes were on you suddenly. Hearing your voice spill out the words before you got a chance to edit them was unlike you, your face burned. "Wha- what I mean is, Donnie is an incredible inventor and scientist what's not to like right? Wait- no no, what I meant was," Your incoherent rambling was not helping you regain your composer. All seemed to gain a sudden knowing, all except for Mikey would tackle Donnie into a hug. "Well I~ am a mutant and Donnie~ is my second favorite brother so I like him too."

"Second favorite!?" The three others said in unison.

You sighed, thankful for Mikey's unknowing save of your unconfessed feelings. The boys had completely forgotten about your comment and were instead engrossed in finding out who Mikey's favorite brother was.

-----

Movie night continued as usual after that; the boys lip synced scenes, the usual spill happened, and Leo, Raph and Mikey eventually fell asleep. You and Donnie remained awake almost every time this happened. He pulled all nighters all the time and you couldn't spend the night over at the lair so you would wait till the boys fell asleep to leave. This was the time when you and Donnie always decided to have your weird 2 am conversations. High on laziness and lips loose from feeling sleepy. You yawned as you stretched, the credits rolling on the now finished movie. You looked over to Donnie who was awake per the usual.

"I'm gonna head out the others are asleep and I'm exhausted." You said. You weren't really as tired as usual, you just wanted to get out of there. Mikey's diversion may have made the others forget but you were sure Donnie would interrogate you the moment he remembered. He watched you get to your feet and pick up your blanket. He got up, coming over to you, a little closer than usual you observed, and grabbed the end of the blanket that hung from your arms. His voice was soft as he spoke. "Let me help you fold this."

"Oh, sure." You smiled softly at him, hoping this wasn't his way of trapping you for a moment longer. He seemed really quiet, something you hoped was just sleepiness. His brow was furrowed and he looked like he was thinking.

You both finished folding the blanket and you began walking to the lair's exit. This was your chance to leave! You prepared the push past the projector room's curtain when you heard him, faintly.

"Y/N." Shit, you thought, "Can we talk?"

You froze. "Yea... yeah we can talk." you sighed, defeated.

He nodded and you two walked through the curtains. You followed him through the lair and eventually to the exit. He was gonna walk you out. Your nerves were on fire. You swear he made you wait to start talking for dramatic effect, you were starting to overthink as you both walked in silence through the tunnels. Was he gonna talk or was this conversation up to you all of a sudden?? God you hated when he did this and your fear of him figuring out your feelings only made this feel more and more planned. Is he playing with you?

You breathed in to begin talking, the silence eating you up, "Don-", but before you could get the words out he began. "Thank you." He said simply.

"Huh?" You said, without thinking again.

He turned his face to you with a slight smile on his face. "For standing up for me against Leo.... Not that I needed it cause I had the situation handled but it was very refreshing to have Leo eat-th his words." He added quickly.

You smiled, relieved that he didn't bring up the undertones of your mishap. His smile was genuine and as much as he said he "had it handled" you've been close friends long enough to know that some of things that Leo says can really cut deep sometimes. It was nice to know that what you said was enough to get a heartfelt thank you from bad boy Othello Von Ryan. Even if it was an accident, it was genuine! You bumped him with your shoulder in a playful manner.

"You getting soft on me, Von Ryan?" you said, smirking a little.

"Please." He teased back.

The walk was silent again, though the air was calm. So you thought.

"So" He started. "You like me?"

You sputtered, coughing on air. "Wha-! Donnie please." You pleaded in a way you hoped he didn't see as begging.

"I'm curious, did you mean those things?" He strolled in front of you, walking backwards to meet your gaze. "That I'm an incredible scientist and what was it? Oh! And "what's not to like." Hmm?" He quoted you, a smug grin growing on his face.

You blushed hard. God whyyy. Turning your face away to escape his gaze. Your silence he took as an invitation to tease you further.

"Oh come on. Don't be like that!" He cried, chasing your gaze by tilting his head. "Do you have anything else to say? Or is the mutant thing scaring you off?"

"You're so dumb." You threw at him. Getting annoyed that this "mutant problem" kept getting brought up.

"Dumb?"

"Yea dumb. The mutant thing doesn't mean anything to me. What you are doesn't matter to me. I just like you for you." you cried exasperated. "I'd go on a date with you without even thinking twice!"

You did it again, speaking without thinking. You slapped a hand over your mouth, looking helplessly into Donnie's eyes.

He blinked at you, just as surprised, his expression changing to one more serious just as your tone did. "Do you actually you like me?" His face blooming into a shade similar to yours.

".....I-uh..."

This was gonna be a long walk home.

Leo :

"I'm the king of charm! .....I could get anyone." Leo said confidently falling into his spot on the couch. The brothers rolled their eyes.

You were agitated with that comment, me my be your crush but even you wanna to see Leo knocked down a peg. "Last I checked Leo, you have never successfully "charmed" anyone." You said casually, walking over to the coffee table and grabbing a bottle of soda off of it. A blatant lie because you were absolutely pining for him, but that was beside the point. "For being the self proclaimed face man of the team, you really get no play uh?" The room busted out in a unison of "oooooo" and "burnnned" at your quip to toward Leo. His face crinkled up at your comment and he crossed his arms, pouting. And maybe even blushing a little?

"Dang Leo got burned!!" Mikey exclaimed, poking his older brother's face. Raph chuckled, trying to hold in his laughter. Donnie openly cackled at your words.

"Whatever, you guys wouldn't know charm if it hit you square in the face. And it's me hitting you square in the face. I'm charm!!" He yelled out exasperated.

"Mkay then Nardo." you said taking a seat next to him. "No hard feelings?" You said offering a soda to him. He looked at you, taking in your expression. It was calm, with no malice. His expression, though, changed from one of skepticism to something more mischievous. He took the can from you gently brushing his fingers against yours and leaned in close, too close. "Don't tempt me Y/N or you'll be the first person I charm." He whispered to you. Your eyes were blown wide. He winked at you before turning to the movie projection.

-----

If you thought that was just an empty threat, you were sorely wrong. The whole rest of the night had been just moments upon moments of Leo doing anything he could to see a blush spread across your face; fake yawning to wrap his arm around your shoulders, brushing your hand everytime you both grabbed some popcorn. Even lip syncing scenes from the movie of the characters proclaiming their love for the other.

This. is. ridiculous.

As the credits rolled on the third movie of the night was when Leo decided to get really bold.

"Yo Leo!" Raph called from the other side of the couch. "It's your turn to pick a movie." Raph launched the remote over to Leo who caught it easily. The striped turtle scrolled through the offered movies for a bit of time before deciding on something. You mindlessly scrolled on your phone not offering any attention to his selection, in hopes he wouldn't make a scene when the lights illuminated the room again.

The lights dimmed as the movie began again and everyone settled back into their spots. You looked up at the movie knowing what it was the moment you laid your eyes on it. The Princess Bride. Of course he would pick that movie. It was so Leo. You made a small chuckle at the selection.

"Something funny, Buttercup?" Leo turned to you smirking.

You blushed at the name. Was he gonna play this out like you two were the main love interests from the movie? "Uhh and I assume you are supposed to be Westley then?" You answered, raising a sarcastic brow.

Instead of answering he inched closer. Strategically during a dark part of the movie to avoid the eyes of his brothers. "Only if you want me to be, Princess." His face was inches from yours, you blushed fiercely both at the name and his words. "What are you doing Leo?" You sunk farther into the couch trying to escape him, only causing him to chase you more. He wasn't done yet. The room went dark again because of the movie and the last thing you saw were his eyes. Shining with mischief. Your heart raced in anticipation. What was he planning??

You didn't even have time to think before you felt hands around your waist pulling you down. Leo was right above you. Hands placed on each side of your head as he gazed down into your wide shot eyes. Your breath caught and you swore your heart stopped beating. You cursed yourself for your expression, sure that whatever it looked like was exactly what he wanted. You only knew this because of the way his smug smile seemed to stretch further. He bent his arms to lean down into your personal space even further. Close enough to whisper into your ear "So what is it Y/N? Are you charmed~ yet?" His voice oozed with smugness. And god were you so over it.

"I- I have to go!" You abruptly stood up pushing him off of you. You stormed across the room directly in front of the screen. Catching the attention of the other brothers who watched you storm off. "You good Y/N?" Mikey called after you as you left. "Peachy." You spat, a little more frustration came through in your voice than you had intended. You left without explaining yourself. It didn't take long till the others turned their heads toward Leo. Who looked shocked? Upset? Disappointed? Nervous even? He watched you leave a sudden worry growing in this chest. Was that too far?

"Leo. What the hell did you do to make them so upset?" Raph asked, pausing the movie. "Was this pay back from earlier?"

Leo didn't answer his older brother, only getting up to chase after you. Were you leaving?

You were a mess, as you made your way through the lair. You didn't know where you were going, you just needed to get away. Your face was burning and your heart was on fire. What was that! Pay back? You regretted ever having made that burn to him. If this was the price, you weren't sure if you wanted to pay more or if you wanted a complete refund. God he made your head hurt. It wasn't even the flirting or the attention, it was just the undertones of it all. Was he doing this just to get back at you or did this cheesy flirting actually mean something to him? You hated that he played with you like this. And how smug he was about it too.

"Y/N! Wait."

Oh god, please no.

"Y/N! Don't leave!" Leo portaled after you effectively misjudging the distance and opened his portal directly in front of you blocking your path. As he emerged through the portal he ran straight into you, toppling both of you to the ground. You landed in a similar situation as you were on the couch a few moments ago.

Leo looked at you surprised by the outcome of the portaling "skills". He smiled sheepishly, laughing a little. "haha sorry bout' that". You scowled unhappy to be in the same situation you just ran from.

"Leo! Get off!"

He retracted himself almost immediately. You stood up, brushing yourself off, you eyed him, waiting for whatever he was gonna rub in your face next.

"Y/N. I'm so sorry." He jumbled out of the way as he helped you to your feet, holding onto your hand as he did. His apology pricked your eyes. Was Leo seriously apologizing instead of ratting off some excuse to cover his ass? He was nervous? His face was downturned and his body language was not like his usual self at all. That wasn't even one of his pretend flamboyant face man apologies either. Was this a genuine Leo apology? "I'm sorry Y/N.... I wanted to-... I-.... I don't know what I wanted... I'm sorry about everything, really."

"It's ok. I get it. I embarrassed you, you wanted to get even." You told him. You didn't wanna accept his apology, but god did you need to leave. You looked down noticing that Leo was still holding onto your hand from when he helped you up. "Uh, Leo? You gonna let go?"

"Hm? Oh! Yeah." He hesitated before letting your hand drop to your side. He seemed off, was this another game?

You were skeptical of his unusual behavior. "Leo are you messing with me?" You ask, squinting at him.

"What? No! Y/N I-, I-." He huffed in frustration, he clearly had something he wanted to say but his pride just wouldn't allow it. He breathed out, collecting himself. "Y/N, I'm sorry for what I did but honestly I would do it again in a heartbeat." At this he began avoiding your gaze. "I did want to get back at you at first that's why I started it, but..." He faltered, preparing himself for what he was about to say. "Listen I'm just gonna lay it all out on the table now Y/N."

You stared at him confused. He took your hand again, this time both of his. He looked deeply into your eyes, but not like before. He was pleading this time. Begging for you to hear him out. You silently nodded awaiting his words.

"I talk big game like a lot, you know this but... I'm honestly scared. When we became friends Y/N I was so excited I thought you were so cool and I wanted to do everything other than be myself so that you would think I was cool too. I didn't want to disappoint you with how I actually was. And when I uh.. started to.. um, develop... feelings for you that fear just multiplied."

Your eyes widened at his confession, you would have never guessed. All this time he was trying to be cool for you?

He continued, unable to look you in the eyes while he watched his hand rub circles into yours. "I accepted a long time ago that humans were not ever gonna like us, like me. But being with you is the best feeling and you give me hope for a relationship between mutants and humans. You get me, you laugh at my jokes, you like the same movies, and you always know exactly what to say to make me feel like I'm a hero." He was smiling a little now, reminiscing about the times you've had together. Your heart was melting at his words.

"I dont think a human would even wanna be with a mutant. Especially one as go-good looking as you." It was his turn to blush now. "Being able to flirt with you today as a "game" was everything I actually wish I could do." He looked up at you squeezing your hand affectionately as he said his next line, "it wasn't a game to me."

Your eyes softened for him, placing your free hand on top of his. Your next words were meant to be teasing but they came out more blunt than you intended. "I'm a human and I wanna go out with you."

There was a pregnant pause before you heard him speak again. His hands stopped and dropped to your shoulders making you gasp and look up at him. When you looked up he was towering over you. His face was unreadable. "Why?" was all he asked.

You chuckled a little at his question, feeling more confident because of his confession. "Cause I like you Leo. You are cool. You're my hero." His face was shining from the praise that fell from your lips. Never would he have thought you would have had this locked away from. He didn't even reply, instead wrapping his arms around you tight. He rubbed his face into your neck. And for a moment you two stayed like that. You could feel a smile forming on his face as he spoke.

"So I guess you were wrong uh?"

"wrong? about what?"

He pulled back from the hug so he could take a look at you. "I did charm you."

Mikey :

"Y/N! You're here!!" Mikey cheered, his excitement was evident by the way he perked up on the couch and patted the spot next to him enthusiastically. "Come sit next to me!!"

You and Mikey loved movie night and it was always you two who cuddled up on the couch together to watch. This was your tradition and it was even weird not to have you glued together sharing popcorn and pizza.

Mikey seemed completely unfazed by the conversation that the rest were having and with your arrival it seemed the topic was pushed away. For now.

----

The screen produced by projectors glow was the only thing that lit up the room by the time you all had finished your fifth movie. Making it Mikey's turn to pick once again. Now was the time when Leo and Raph would have usually fallen asleep and Donnie would be death scrolling through his phone.

You and the box turtle were comfortably cuddled together under a blanket. You laid on his chest plastron while he laid on his back with his hand drawing mindless shapes onto your back. His usual high energy temperament was chilled when it came to this time and he was honestly very quiet during these times. Making a comment here or there and laughing at the funny moments. But tonight he was different. The shine in his eyes was less bright and he kinda just stared into the scenes.

Beauty and the Beast was what he picked. A classic Mikey pick. This was one of his favorite movies, he would sing the lyrics to the songs, sometimes get up and dance like he was Bell or even Beast. He loved this movie, but today he did none of that. He laid quietly, watching the movie, concentrated with a furrowed brow. Very unlike him, you noted.

You traced the colorful drawings he painted on his shell, thinking. Dragging your sleepy eyes from the scene of Bell and Beast dancing and looked up at him. His eyes were watering and his lip quivered from beneath his teeth. Looked like he was gonna explode with tears in any second.

"Mikey!" You whisper yelled, frantically raising yourself off of him in order to get closer to his cup his face. He was forced to look at you now. He seemed to not have expected you to be awake or even to notice him. Maybe he was trying to cry quietly?

"Y/N?!? I didn't know you were awake still." He said frantically wiping his tears away. You grabbed his face, pulling him close to you. "You've been acting weird all night and now you're crying??" You searched his eyes for anything while he avoided your gaze. His hands came around your wrist that was holding his face, ready to pull them down gently. The moment loaded with tension was broken when you both turned to look at the scene that suddenly caught both your attention. Bell and Beast were sitting on the balcony when Beast asked Bell if she was happy with him and when she said yes the tears hanging from Mikey's eyes fell freely onto your hands that still held his face. He tightened his grip around your wrists ever so slightly and turned to you again, looking you in the eyes as he said between chokes, "T--t-tHey'Re s-so bE-beAUtIfuL."

You smiled a little as his wholesome response, taking him into your arms and easing the both of you deeper into the couch cushions. You held him under your arm and grabbed his hand with your other. He instinctively pressed his cheek to your shoulder and you leaned your cheek on the top of his head. He cried more incoherent phrases until his sobs turned to sniffs. "Bell is so sweet and kind, she doesn't care he's a beast, it doesn't matter to her! And Beast, he just wants to be loved and accepted! And Bell gives that to him and and... and." His ranting fell off as he seemed to compose a new idea in his head. "I'm not sure any human would love a monster like that in real life. I'm not sure any human would want to be with... a mutant monster... like me."

You froze, ceasing your comforting motions and took in the gravity of his words. You never thought he cared what humans thought of him, he didn't even put in his two cents when his brothers talked about stuff like this. He even ignored the conversation entirely! How long has this been eating him up?

"Why do you think that?" You asked softly but curiously.

He seemed surprised that you would ask, you could feel him tense a little under your arm. He breathed in a deep breath and pushed out from your warm embrace. He placed his hands by your sides on the couch and looked at you close. "Humans are not as sweet as Bell is. And I know that a human, like you, would never want to be with me."

"I'm a human and I wanna be with you." You said it way more bluntly than you had meant to. Mikey's eyes widened, but he stayed just as close.

"You want to be with me? I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster! That's such a stupid thought." You were upset now. Who made him feel like he was a monster. You'd beat them up!

He smiled, tears rolling down his face once again. "Not many are as kind as you Y/N."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

footnote : thank you so much for requesting! please keep them coming! this was really fun to write! I hope this is what you had in mind.

taglist : @leafyturtle

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simpforrooster · 2 months

Text

i love when you call me pete.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

t/w: mentions of an age gap, some smooching. drunk!maverick

summary: maverick almost drunkenly tells reader how he feels about her

a/n: lowercase intended! wrote this on my phone and have autocaps off xD two fics in one day!!!

maverick laughs as jake, one hand over his own eyes, takes aim at the dart board.

jake hits a bullseye. mav pulls out his wallet, and reluctantly hands jake a folded bill. your eyes roll at the captain’s stupidity. jake never misses a bullseye.

the guys surely hustled the poor man. mav’s hand falls on jake’s shoulder as he finishes off his beer.

“how long are you gonna stare at him?” phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“i am not staring,” you counter, knowing full well that you are indeed staring.

not that you could help it. the man may be twice your age, but he’s hot. even phoenix, happily engaged to bob, gets her an eye full of the elder captain.

you wipe down the bar in front of phoenix and hand her another lemon drop. tucking the rag in your back belt loop, you turn to hand another regular their drink.

ever since penny hired you, you’ve managed to take care of the bar almost as good as she does. she lets you take on the slower days of the week alone, and the two of you manage the weekend crowds together.

once everyone has been taken care of, you turn your attention back to your friend. you catch her admiring her ring. she looks up at you with a grin.

“sorry,” she shrugs. you shake your head.

“no indeed. i’d be gawking at that rock all day if it was mine.”

“you know you said that entire sentence looking at him and not me, right.”

you startle. she’s right. you’d basically been undressing maverick with your eyes. imagining your left hand heavy with a ring.

“you’re impossible,” she laughs.

your heart picks up its pace as maverick saunters, or better yet, sways up to the bar.

“four more, please. on my tab, babe.” maverick holds up five fingers, a giant grin on his face.

babe?

you lean over the bar and lay his thumb back against his palm. “that’s four.”

maverick looks down at you and then back to his hand. a chuckle falls languidly from his lips. “you’re right.”

phoenix raises a brow at you, out of sight from mav, who is looking at you like you’re his center of gravity.

“have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?” maverick says, still holding up those four fingers. the comment turns your insides into jelly.

“are you drunk, pete?” you ask him. there’s no way he’d be saying any of this if he were sober.

his hand falls to the bar top and his eyes fall closed. he stands there a moment, gathering himself, you assume.

his eyes open, those blue irises almost knocking you off your feet with how intense they look at you.

“i may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean i’m lying about you being gorgeous.”

phoenix grins at you over his shoulder, maverick completely oblivious to her.

no, he’s definitely only noticing you. every moved you’ve made, he’s tracked it. well, as well as he can given that he’s shitfaced.

maverick shrugs a shoulder. “maybe sober me is just nervous to tell you that.”

“pete,” you breathe. “you’re a naval aviator. there’s no way i make you nervous.”

“god, i love how you say my name,” he admits. before he can say anything else, jake and rooster appear at his side.

“come on, pops, we’ll get you home.” the men each take an arm, seeing as maverick can hardly remain upright.

he tries to shake them off. “i can’t go until i ask y/n out.”

your hand comes up to your mouth, your heart picking up pace again.

“let’s try tomorrow, mav,” rooster murmurs to his godfather. maverick vehemently shakes his head.

“no. i have to tell her now. i have to tell her i—,”

“oh no you don’t,” jake says, forcing maverick away from the bar. “you will not finish that sentence until you’re sober. she doesn’t deserve a drunk admission.”

rooster shoots you an apologetic look, handing you his card to close out the three of their tabs. you move on autopilot. punching in the men’s names, clicking on them, swiping the card, repeat. you hesitate on pete’s account. god, he did have a lot to drink.

that’s all that was. drunken words. he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

once the men are out the bar and pete is loaded in the back of the bronco, you turn to phoenix.

“what the fuck?” she screeches.

“i told them not to let him approach her with as far gone as he was,” bob comments, saddling up in the barstool next to his fiancé.

“what are you talking about, bob?” you ask.

bob shares a look with phoenix.

“you’re nuts if you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

“please don’t get my hopes up, bob,” you tell the bar, already fearful of those hopes plummeting once maverick comes to his senses and takes everything that just happened back.

you close out the remaining people at the bar. phoenix and bob hang around with you, walking you to your car once you’ve got the hard deck locked up.

the dagger squad take turns staying with you when you have a closing shift. they’re more protective of you than a set of new parents.

you hug your friends goodbye and drive to your apartment.

the next morning, your doorbell wakes you up with a start.

literally rolling out of the bed, you hit the floor tangled in your sheets. the doorbell chimes again. searching for a pair of pants, dread fills you as the doorbell rings once again.

what could be so urgent at..7 am?!

your mind runs through every possibility.

the doorbells chimes for a forth time just as you throw the door open, shrieking, “what?!”

pete mitchell stands on your stoop. he looks like hell. the two of you stare at one another, while pete grips the flowers he’s holding with a death grip.

you open the door wider, silently inviting him in. he follows you to the kitchen and settles at your island. the silence in the room thickens as you set to work making coffee. you feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“listen, y/n,” maverick starts, but you cut him off, sharply holding up a finger. you fish two mugs from your cabinet. you fill his mug to the brim, spooning two teaspoons of sugar in it. you fix yourself a little coffee with your creamer. setting the coffee in front of him, you step back and lean against the counter across him.

waving your hand, you tell him to proceed.

“i’m so sorry about last night,” he says, finally laying the flowers down. he runs his hands down the front of his jeans, wiping away the sweat.

“if you’re about to take it all back, i really don’t want to hear it, mav,” you tell him.

“mav..” he repeats to himself, looking at your counter top. “last night you called me pete.” he brings his eyes to yours.

you stare at him. okay, he remembers that.

“i don’t want to take any of it back, y/n.”

your breath catches at the back of your throat.

“i want to apologize,” he continues. “you didn’t deserve a drunken admission. i was being cowardly. because believe it or not, you’re ten times scarier than an f-18.”

when you say nothing, he keeps on.

“i know how to handle an f-18. i know what makes it work, how to get it back on track. i know that plan inside and out.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know how to navigate this. you.”

“me?”

“you. god, y/n. you have the ability to wreck me to my core. and i have so terrified to admit my feelings to you.”

“come on, pete, you can’t mean that,” you tell him, folding in on yourself.

“of course i do. the guys told me talking to you drunk was a bad idea. i thought i could handle it, but you just looked so gorgeous, i couldn’t help it.”

you are fully aware of how you looked last night during that fiasco. and gorgeous surely wasn’t it. not with your tank top and cut offs. and you know your hair had to be a mess. it always was at the end of a shift.

maverick rises from his stool. coming around the kitchen island, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking terrified as he walks over to you.

“i am sorry i tried to do this shitfaced,” he whispers, a breathe away from you. “tell me i didn’t ruin anything.”

he’s never stood this close to you, and it’s doing odd things to your heart.

“you didn’t ruin anything, pete,” you tell him. his eyes drop down to your mouth, silently asking permission. you nod, not trusting your voice to not betray how much you want this.

maverick pins you to the counter, his hands on either side of you, holding his weight off you. you speed him up by balling your hand in his shirt and pulling him down to you.

maverick grins as his mouth meets yours, falling back into his normal self. you can fill the confidence flowing through him as his hands move from the counter to your body.

his expert hands fall exactly where you need them. he deepens the kiss, his tongue running along your bottom lip. opening up to him, he pulls you tight against his body.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips.

“tell me about it,” you murmur.

he plants tantalizing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“pete,” you moan. he tightens his hold in response.

“i love it when you call me pete,” he says, returning his kisses to your mouth.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell imagine #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x y/n #maverick x you #maverick fanfic #maverick imagine #maverick x reader

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gardnhee · 2 months

Text

can we start over? - c.yj

✸ tw/content. intentional lowercase, cussing, angst(very little), fluff, use of baby (only like once or twice.), reader is slightly antisocial in the beginning, not really proofread

✸ exbsf!yj x afab!reader

✸ note. yj drabble cs i love him an unhealthy amount

✸ song rec. start over - jacquees

you stood in a corner like the awkward person that you are. away from all the chatter, laughter, yelling, and horny crowd. this is how you liked it, you indulged in your solitude.

the unbearably loud music rang in your ears, the fact that you were standing just a couple feet from the speakers didn’t help either.

you decided to drown the ringing by taking a sip of your cup, inhaling a sharp breath as the liquid cascaded down your throat.

“…who hired this dj? music’s unbearable…” you murmured as you frowned at the dj who stood a couple steps from you.

it was fairly boring for a while, the music slowly started to feel faint as the stuffy atmosphere began to push its way into your already tight space. you slightly squeeze the plastic cup in your hand, pressing your back against the wall.

you felt trapped.

deciding you’ve had enough of this, you walk away from the corner. as if you were popping a bubble; like a puppy opening its eyes for the first time, but instead of meeting with a fascinating world, you’re met with drunk shit heads who can’t dance, let alone walk in a straight line.

“where is she…” you huffed, looking for the coworker who invited you to this party, if you can even call it that. it’s more depressing than a fucking funeral.

pushing through everyone was a literal pain in the ass, the environment reeked of alcohol, and the air was incredibly thick. you were starting to regret even accepting the goddamn invitation.

go they said, it’ll be fun they said, “fun my ass.” you utter a small ‘tsk’ as a man twice your size bumps into you, not even having the common courtesy to apologize. god, this is horrible.

you somehow ended up in the kitchen. sighing in frustration, you rest yourself against the counter.

“i’m going to fucking kill-“ you started, but were rudely interrupted when someone walked into the kitchen.

your eyes slightly widened as you acknowledge the person. your ex best friend. fun.

he was whistling along to the horrendous noise these people call music, happiness basically oozing from his pores.

he turned his head to you, looking at you from head to toe in shock, shock which soon subsided and was replaced with an expression you can’t quite describe.

“oh.. hey.” yeonjun waved, mullet drenched in sweat as some loose hairs stuck to his forehead. he breathed heavily, his once joyful demeanor now engulfed in…uncomfortableness? melancholy? nostalgia? it’s been so long that you can’t tell anymore.

he slowly made his way to the fridge, giving you an awkward smile as you bite your inner cheek and look away.

it was silent for a while, you could feel his eyes burning holes into your face.

“yn?” he quietly said, arms crossed over the open fridge door. he looked at you, waiting for a response.

in all honesty, he didn’t expect one. at least not after ghosting you completely and then coming back a couple months later like nothing happened.

he scoffed and shook his head with a sad smile, sighing in disbelief. he was disappointed in himself.

yeonjun shut the fridge door and begun to lead himself out the kitchen, “yes?” you replied with urgency, you didn’t want him to leave. not again. not after losing him for months.

he chuckled, looking back at you. “you’re…not mad at me?” he asked, feet moving in your direction. he realized you aren’t so closed off anymore, you’re more…awake, as if you’ve come to terms with the gravity of things, and for that, he’s thankful. he can make things right now.

you grew nervous, a prominent lump built up in your throat, making it difficult for you to breathe. “i wouldn’t say i am - or was - mad, i guess i..“ you stopped yourself as yeonjun stumbled, falling onto you.

you tried backing up, but couldn’t. fucking counter…you thought, swallowing slowly as the smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils.

“yeonjun? yeonjun, you’re drunk.” you tried pushing him off, but he didn’t budge. instead, he laid his head on your shoulder, “not drunk, just… tipsy.” he blabbered.

it was silent for a couple seconds until you heard him sniffle. he was crying.

“wha…” he grabbed your waist, sobbing into your shoulder. “i’m so-“ he hiccuped, followed by a groan. “i’m sorry, yn, i’m sorry!” yeonjun cried, lifting his head in an attempt to look at you. you stood there, dumbfounded. heart hammering against your chest. he’s drunk. it was evident, yet he still denied it.

he peeked at you through his wet lashes, incoherent sounds slipping past his lips as he wiped his runny nose. “and you say you’re not drunk? look at you! why are you crying?!” you raised both brows in confusion, stroking his hair softly.

you’re supposed to be cussing him out for all the hurt he’s caused you, for leaving with absolutely no explanation, yet here you are, combing your cold fingers through his sweaty strands as he bawls into your shoulder. you’ve seen him like this more often than not; always manages to surprise you, though.

“i’m not drunk…. ‘m sorry” he hesitated, wiping the wetness from his eyes with the back of his hand. as you realize how close your bodies are, you nod, circling around him.

yeonjun turned, biting his lip. he wants to say something. you know he wants to say something, but he’s holding back and it’s making you anxious and impatient.

“would you maybe…want to leave?” you blink, all previous feelings of discomfort disappearing. “what’re you planning?” you question, crossing your arms as you sternly stare at him.

“maybe grab some drinks and then go to my place?” he smiled, which quickly disappeared when you displayed a doubting look. “i mean, i just want to talk to you…without all the noise…and the multitude of people.” your heart shattered, and you were sure your eyes softened, because his did too.

“fine.” yeonjun’s ears perk up, big smile on his face. “let’s go.” you nodded, grabbing his arm before he left the kitchen.

“i’m driving.”

“but-“ his eyebrows furrowed, “no buts, deny it all you want, we’re not risking it.” he sighed, defeat poking through the pout on his lips. he lowly hummed in agreement, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing close behind.

“home sweet home!” yeonjun exclaimed, arms flying in the air as the bag of soju dangled in his hand. “yeonjun, be quiet, it’s late.” you slowly grabbed his arm, taking the bag of soju away. “i shouldn’t have allowed you to drink on the way here.” you sighed, placing the bag on the counter and taking out the already opened box of soju.

he pouted, stumbling towards the little coffee table that sat in the middle of his living room. “bring some soju, please!” he slurred.

you grabbed the box, nestling it under your arm as you made your way towards drunk yeonjun.

you sat down, setting the box on the coffee table. “oh…i forgot to bring shot glasses.” you groaned, fixing to stand up when yeonjun stopped you.

“no, it’s okay. i’ll go get them.” he smiled, patting your hand.

“but-“

“it’s okay.” he shook his head, standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

in a matter of seconds, he was back, sitting in front of you with soju in hand, two shot glasses already set on the table.

yeonjun held the bottle from the bottom with one hand, and swirled it vigorously with the other. you watched him closely, how his hands wrapped around the bottle, you wonder how they’d feel on your face-

“yn?” you blinked, snapping back into reality. “yes? i’m sorry.” you gulped, noticing a full shot glass in front of you.

as you were about to reach for the glass, you stopped midway. sighing as you plopped your arm down on the table. yeonjun noticed this and raised a brow, “is everything…alright?” he asked, pouring soju into his glass.

“yes…and no.” you admitted, “i mean i just…i missed this, you know? spending time with you. i missed being here. i missed this apartment.” you paused, staring at yeonjun who was now looking down at his thighs.

“i missed you.” you leaned forward, arms now crossed on the table. yeonjun snapped his head up, quickly grabbing his glass and gulping the liquid down.

“ahhh…” he set the glass down, frowning as the liquid burned his throat. “i missed you too yn…” he smiled weakly, you realized he wasn’t in the right mind for all the sappy stuff right now, so you decided to change the subject.

“tell me, what have you been up to?” you smiled, grabbing your glass, tilting your head to the side as you swallow the drink.

“me? hm…not much….” yeonjun leaned forward, smile spread across his flushed cheeks.

✸ ✸ ✸

you lost track of time, it seemed. but you weren’t the only one. yeonjun, too, lost track of how many shots he took. not that it mattered, he was already drunk out of his mind to begin with. “baby…..” he slurred, reaching out to you as you gasped. baby?? are you serious??

“yeonjun what…” you decided to stop yourself, not even questioning anything that came out of his mouth.

after looking around for a minute, you groaned. there is so much to clean up.

an unfinished 20 pack of soju on the table; only 4 remaining, some snack wrappers thrown on the table, and a drunk yeonjun who can’t even utter a proper sentence.

“‘m s’sorry” he hiccuped, head lulling as he smiled like an idiot. his lips glistened under the dim light, most likely from all the constant licking and drinking he’s been doing.

“let me take you to your room so you can sleep.” he shook his head violently, backing up against the sofa behind him as you made your way to him.

“no!” he pouted, looking at you with tears brimming his eyes. “oh you’re such a child, come on let’s go!” yeonjun pushed your hand off his arm, whining.

you stopped and huffed, sitting down beside him in order to comfort him, “why are you crying?”

“i f…feel like shit” he cried, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “why do you feel that way?” you knew this was just a drunk fit of his, but you had to at least hear him out.

“‘cuz i ruined my chance with the person i love” he sniffles, staring into your eyes with his teary ones. you blinked, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “and who may that be?” you question, stroking his shoulder in a comforting manner.

“you.” you inhale sharply, blinking in confusion. you shook your head, chuckling awkwardly, “you’re just drunk, come on.” yeonjun stopped protesting, defeated by his own tiredness.

you wrapped his arm over your shoulder, dragging him while leaning against the walls for support. “goddamnit, what have you been eating? you’re so heavy.” you strain, sighing in relief as your eyes find his bedroom door.

opening the door was one thing, laying him on the bed was another. you pant, his body weighing you down. as a result you slipped and fell.

on top of him.

jesus fuck.

you froze when he groaned. “i’m so sorry!” you scrambled to stand up, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you against him.

“sleep with me tonight, please.” yeonjun whispered, lazy smile spreading across his face. you shake your head, “yeonjun, you’re drunk. we can’t be doing this. you’re not in the right mind!” you faintly shake your head, “please?” he insisted.

you sighed, pressing your forehead against his chest. “fine. but i will be leaving first thing in the morning.” he chuckled, nodding. “if you want to get comfortable, my shirts are over there-“ he hiccuped. you nodded and patted his chest in understanding. “just sleep, okay?? i’ll be right back.” yeonjun hummed, closing his eyes.

you wake up groggy and disoriented, staring at the window as a ray of sunshine peeked through the curtain, making you squint and smile lazily.

you rub the sleep from your eyes and stretch, “good mor-“ you stop as you notice yeonjun isn’t in bed with you anymore. you look around the room once more, no sign of him.

a pang of worry and confusion washed over you. one would think it’s stupid considering the fact that you’re in his house, yet you can’t help but be alarmed.

what if he left you again?

‘oh that’s stupid, yn. pull yourself together.’ you shake your head and scoff, but the panic settles at the pit of your stomach nonetheless.

throwing the blanket to the side, you stand, yawning as you wobble towards the door.

“yn-“ yeonjun stops, doorknob in one hand and breakfast tray in the other. he eyed you as you stood there, eyes wide in confusion.

yeonjun blinked, “good morning?…” he lets out a breathy laugh, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot. “i made you breakfast.” you felt your heart squeeze at that. he smiled, walking over to the bed and signaling you to lay down.

and you did. you laid down, placing the warm blankets back on your body and smoothing them over in order to create a flat enough surface for the breakfast tray.

“thank you so much..” you gush as yeonjun placed the tray in front of you. he sat down, crossing his legs and smiling like a total idiot.

“you’ve been nothing but smiles since you walked in the room…did something happen?” you question, making yeonjun hang his head with an even bigger smile on his face. “you look so beautiful.” he mumbled, adjusting his position on the bed.

“what?” you looked up, cheek stuffed with food. he snorted, scooting forward and leaning towards you. “i said,” he wiped your lip with his thumb, eyes traveling to yours, holding them dearly. “you look so beautiful.” he chuckled at your expression, making his heart skip a beat.

“you’re making a mess, be careful, yeah?” you grab the tray, placing it to one side as you choke on your food. yeonjun stands with you, stroking your arms with his soft hands.

“hey, you alright?” you nodded, grabbing onto his shoulder for support. “it’s just…” you stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. “you caught me off guard, that’s all.” yeonjun’s eyes softened, “i meant it.” he caressed your face as a warm smile tugged at his lips.

“why…why are you being so nice to me?” you stepped away from his hold, sitting back down on the soft bed. he sighed and flopped down beside you, staring at the curtains that blocked the sunlight.

“because i’m in love with you.” his eyes traveled from the window to you, “i’ve been in love with you.” you waver, eyes widening in confusion. “and i don’t want to mess up again.”

“so last night-“

“i remember.” yeonjun nodded, fidgeting with his thumbs as he bit his bottom lip. “i guess i was drunk enough to let that slip but not enough to forget.” he reasoned, gazing at you briefly before staring at his feet.

“it’s okay if you don’t want anything to do with me, i mean-“ you placed a hand on his, drawing circles on it with your thumb. “yeonjun, im in love with you too.” he stopped, shifting on the bed.

“what?…”

“im in love with you too.”

he stuttered, mouth opened for a few seconds before closing it again. you saw the glint in his his eyes before being pulled into a hug.

a long, warm, cozy hug.

a hug you’ve been craving for a while.

his hug.

you broke into tears, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “oh god, yn, i’m deeply sorry. i’ve hurt you so much.” yeonjun ran his fingers through your hair, cooing softly.

you stained his shirt, but he didn’t care,“i missed you so much, you know? we stopped talking for so long. i thought i lost you for real…” you say between sobs, lightly punching his chest.

“i forgive you, dumbass.” he stayed quiet, you’re too nice. he didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. yet you gave it. you gave something so precious to someone who doesn’t even deserve a single look from you.

yeonjun held your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. he smiled, “how about this, you finish breakfast and then we can go wherever you want. i’ll explain myself. i’ll explain everything.” you nod slowly, grinning.

“there’s my yn, i missed you.” he quipped, earning himself a slap to his arm. he winced, rubbing the spot.

“is this a date then?” you question, grabbing another bite of your once forgotten food.

“hmmmmmmm” yeonjun tapped his chin, laughing as you whine. “yes dummy, it is.” he flicked your forehead lightly as you giggled.

you grab his arm, “let’s get ready then.” yeonjun didn’t budge as you tried dragging him along, “but the food…” you shook your head, “it’s gone cold, plus i know you’re somewhat hung over so let me treat you to food, hm?” you tapped his hand reassuringly.

“yn-“

“i’m not taking no for an answer.” he pursed his mouth, slowly nodding in defeat.

“perfect, where do you want to go?”

“how about…”

you both disagreed the entire way to the bathroom, laughing and giggling as jokes were thrown around between sentences.

you missed this.

you missed yeonjun.

he was willing to start over, and you were willing to let it happen.

💌: im sorry this is lwk ass, i hope you enjoyed regardless! please make sure to leave a like, comment, and reblog!! thank you 🫶

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thatdammchickennugget · 17 days

Text

Love Is Embarrassing - Part Eight

>> when are all my excuses of learning my lessons gonna start to feel sad? <<

pairing - theodore nott x fem! reader

summary - when you agree to help Theo out with a bet, you learn that maybe the bad boy isn't actually that bad

warnings - a little angsty, jealous!theo, mention of y/n

wordcount - 3.7k

a/n - okay, I finally managed to finish this last chapter. thank you so much to everyone who is still reading and commenting, even though it took me months to wrap this up. I love and appreciate you 💕

series masterlist

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store cast a bright glow over the aisles, illuminating the colorful array of products lining the shelves. Theo strolled through the store, while you sat in the cart, snacks and essentials piled high around you.

The grocery store aisles became their battleground as they playfully bantered over the best candy for their movie night. With each turn down a new aisle, the debate intensified. Theo's arguments for the tangy delight of sour candies clashed with your unwavering devotion to the sweet satisfaction of chocolate.

Your banter echoed through the grocery store aisles, drawing amused glances from other shoppers. You grinned mischievously from your perch in the cart, throwing playful jabs at Theo's taste in candy while he retaliated with mock indignation.

As you rounded the corner into the snack aisle, a familiar voice called out, interrupting your lively debate. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n!"

You turned to see a young man standing before you, a wide smile spread across his face. He was tall and lanky, with tousled red hair that seemed to defy gravity, and a pair of bright blue eyes that sparkled with warmth and familiarity. It took you a moment to recognise who was talking to you. He was someone you used to go to school with, a friendly face from your hometown that you hadn't seen in years. You remembered his mother used to be friends with yours and wondered if they still talked.

"Jake! Wow, it's been forever," you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him.

Theo's expression shifted imperceptibly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he observed the exchange between you and Jake. He remained silent, pushing the cart forward as you engaged in conversation with your old friend.

"Hey, yeah, it really has," Jake replied with a grin, his eyes scanning over Theo before returning to you. "Looks like you've got some company."

You nodded, gesturing toward the tall boy behind you. "Yeah, this is Theo. He's a friend from college. We’re visiting for the holidays."

"Nice to meet you, Theo," Jake said, extending a hand.

Theo shook it with a polite smile, though you couldn't help but notice the slight tensing of his jaw. "Likewise."

"So, what brings you guys to the grocery store?" Jake asked, falling into step beside the cart as you continued down the aisle.

"We're stocking up for a movie night," you explained, reaching for a bag of popcorn on the shelf. "Trying to decide on the best snacks."

Jake chuckled. "Ah, the eternal struggle. Sweet or savory?"

"Exactly," you agreed. "We've been debating it all afternoon."

"Well, if you ask me, you can't go wrong with a good mix of both," Jake suggested, grabbing a bag of chips from the shelf. "Cover all your bases, you know?"

You laughed, nodding in agreement as you took the bag from his hands, stashing down at your feet. "That's true."

As you caught up with Jake, sharing stories and reminiscing about the past, Theo's demeanor became increasingly guarded. He made casual remarks, joining in the conversation, but there was a subtle tension in his voice that betrayed his unease.

You couldn't help but notice the shift in Theo's demeanor, sensing the underlying tension beneath his attempts to appear unaffected. Despite his efforts to hide it, his jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, evident in the way he subtly tightened his grip on the cart handle. You assumed he was growing tired of being in the store and wanted to go home.

"So, Y/n, it's been ages since we hung out," Jake said, his tone filled with enthusiasm as he glanced between you and Theo. "Mind if I crash your movie night?"

You hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Theo before responding. "Uh, well, my mom wouldn't really be a fan of that...Danny hasn’t been feeling well and she doesn’t really want the house to be even fuller, you know."

Theo's grip on the cart tightened slightly, a subtle indication of his discomfort with the idea. You could sense his unease, and while you didn't want to upset him, you also didn't want to leave Jake hanging. "But we should definitely catch up sometime this week," you continued, offering Jake a friendly smile. "How about we grab coffee or something?"

Jake's expression brightened at the suggestion, seemingly unfazed by the rejection of the movie night invitation. "That sounds great! I'll shoot you a text and we'll figure out a time."

"Sounds like a plan," you agreed, relieved that Jake was understanding.

Jake bid you farewell with a friendly wave before heading off to finish his own shopping. As he disappeared around the corner, you turned your attention back to Theo, who had fallen unusually quiet. "Hey, you okay?" you asked, noticing the tension in his shoulders.

Theo shrugged, his gaze fixed on the items lining the shelves. "Yeah, just tired, I guess."

You frowned, not entirely convinced by his response. "Are you sure? You seemed a little... off back there."

He forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, really. Let's just finish up here and head home."

Deciding not to press the issue further for now, you nodded, though a sense of unease lingered in the back of your mind. Theo's sudden change in demeanor had caught you off guard, and while you wanted to believe his explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering him.

●・○・●・○・●

Later that night, as you settled in for movie night, the tension between you and Theo remained palpable. He had taken a seat next to Danny, much to your little brother's excitement, leaving you to occupy the spot on the other side of the couch. You tried to brush off the unease gnawing at you, attributing it to Theo's earlier mood and hoping that he would warm up as the evening progressed.

Throughout the movie, Theo seemed distant, his attention focused solely on the screen. You caught glimpses of his profile in the dim glow of the television, his features drawn and unreadable. Despite your attempts to engage him in conversation or share a joke, he remained reserved, his responses curt and unenthusiastic.

As the movie played on, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. You stole glances at Theo, hoping for some sign that he was feeling better, but he remained aloof, his gaze fixed on the screen.

"That girl reminds me so much of Pansy," you reached around Danny and nudged him gently, trying to draw him into the moment.

He offered a half-hearted chuckle in response, but his eyes never left the television. Your heart sank further at his lack of engagement, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever.

When your mom suggested playing a game after the movie, you saw an opportunity to break the tension. "That sounds like fun, doesn't it?" you glanced over at Theo, hoping for a spark of enthusiasm.

But he shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually. I'm feeling pretty tired."

Disappointment washed over you as you watched him stand up and make his way towards the stairs. "Oh, okay. Well, goodnight, then," you forced a smile, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

"Night," Theo replied softly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth as he disappeared upstairs.

After the game ended, you made your way upstairs, feeling a heavy weight in your chest. The events of the evening lingered in your mind, leaving you with a sense of unease that refused to dissipate.

Entering your room, you found Theo already lying in bed, his back turned towards you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Quietly, you slipped under the covers, careful not to disturb him. Tentatively, you reached out to him, your fingers lightly brushing against his back as they had the night before.

To your surprise, he recoiled at your touch, pushing your hand away before shifting further away from you. The rejection stung, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through your chest as you withdrew your hand, feeling the distance between you grow even wider.

Heart heavy with disappointment and confusion, you lay there in silence. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep, the ache of unspoken words weighing heavily on your mind.

●・○・●・○・●

The next morning, you awoke to find Theo's side of the bed empty, a cold reminder of the distance that had grown between you overnight. Pushing aside the covers, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach.

Descending the stairs, you followed the sound of soft conversation to the living room, where you found Theo seated beside your mother, a smile gracing his features as they engaged in lively conversation. Your mother sat in her favorite armchair, her knitting needles in her hands, while Theo held the yarn for her, his expression one of genuine warmth.

You stood there for a moment, watching the scene unfold before you, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over you. Confusion battled with longing, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the easy camaraderie between Theo and your mother. You couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly acting so cold towards you, all of it reminding you of those last weeks you shared with Grady.

As you observed them, a sudden realization dawned upon you, crystal clear and undeniable. It hit you with the force of a revelation, leaving you breathless and reeling. In that moment, you understood the depth of your feelings for Theo, the profound connection that had blossomed between you, unnoticed and unspoken.

You had fallen for him, deeply and irrevocably, in a way you had never imagined possible. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you as you grappled with the newfound truth.

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, you barely noticed your mother's gaze turning toward you, her warm smile inviting you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether you were ready to face Theo right now.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted you, her voice soft and comforting. "Come join us."

With a small nod, you crossed the room to take a seat beside Theo, trying to ignore the chasm of distance that seemed to have grown between you overnight. His smile faltered slightly as you approached, and the view felt like a kick to your stomach.

"Morning," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced at the boy beside you, searching for any sign of the warmth that had usually filled his gaze when looking at you.

He met your eyes briefly before turning his attention back to your mother, his smile returning, albeit slightly forced. "Morning, trouble."

Despite the tension lingering in the air, your mother seemed oblivious to it. She continued to chat animatedly, her happy voice filling the room.

As the conversation lulled, you seized the opportunity to broach the subject of spending the day together. "Hey, do you want to do anything today?" you asked tentatively, nudging the side of his leg with yours.

He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Actually, I'll be pretty busy today," he replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Your mom and I have been talking about some things she's been procrastinating on fixing around the house, and I promised her I'd do some of it today."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at his response, though you tried to mask it with a supportive smile. "That's sweet of you," you said softly. "Do you need any help?"

He shook his head, his gaze flickering briefly to meet yours. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather do it alone," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

You swallowed back the hurt that threatened to rise in your throat, forcing a smile as you nodded in understanding. "Okay, just let me know if you change your mind," you replied, though the words felt hollow on your tongue.

Sitting there, the realization of your feelings for him weighing heavily on your mind, you found yourself contemplating your next move. Your mind drifted back to Jake and the casual invitation you had extended to catch up over coffee.

With Theo occupied for the day, the prospect of spending time with an old friend seemed more appealing than ever.Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Jake's number. With a hesitant finger hovering over the screen, you debated whether to send the text.

"Since you're going to be busy today, I might text Jake and see if he wants to hang out. Is that okay?"

Theo's expression shifted slightly, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes before he shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds fine.”

You sighed inwardly, feeling a twinge of disappointment at Theo's response, but you nodded, trying to hide any trace of your feelings. "Alright, I'll let you get to it then," you said, forcing a smile.

Walking back upstairs and entering your room, you sank onto the edge of the bed, the familiar comfort of the space offering little solace. Resting your head in your hands, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, the realization of your feelings for Theo crashing over you like a tidal wave.

●・○・●・○・●

As you stepped into the quiet house, the familiar creak of the front door seemed to echo in the silence. The subdued atmosphere enveloped you like a heavy blanket, casting a pall over your spirits as you made your way to the kitchen.

There, you found Theo sitting alone at the table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated his features, casting shadows across his face that seemed to deepen the lines of tension etched there.

"Hey," you greeted him softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.

He looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before flicking away. "Hey," he replied, his tone guarded.

Sensing the tension in the air, you hesitated for a moment before taking a seat opposite him at the table. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

Finally, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you spoke up. "I just got back from hanging out with Jake," you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the undercurrent of unease.

Theo's grip on his mug tightened slightly, though he maintained his composure. "Oh, did you have fun?" he asked, his words laced with a hint of passive-aggression.

You bristled at the tone of his question, sensing the underlying tension beneath his seemingly casual inquiry. "Yeah, it was nice," you replied carefully, not wanting to escalate the situation.

Theo's lips twitched into a tight smile, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil swirling within him. "Good to know," he muttered, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

The atmosphere in the kitchen grew increasingly strained. You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap between you, but you didn't know where to begin. As you tried to come up with something else to say, your body froze when you heard him scoff.

The noise cut through the tense silence like a knife, leaving you feeling like you'd been slapped. The suddenness of it startled you, and you couldn't help but recoil slightly, a mixture of confusion and hurt flashing across your features.

"What?" you demanded, your voice sharper than intended as you searched his face for any hint of an explanation.

Theo hesitated, his gaze darting away from yours as if seeking refuge in the shadows of the room. "Nothing," he muttered, his tone defensive. "Forget it."

But you couldn't forget it, couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong between you. "No, I won't forget it," you insisted, your voice rising with each word as you stood up from your chair to round the table. "You've been acting weird since yesterday, and I don’t know what happened. Tell me what's going on, Theo."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might refuse to answer. But then, with a heavy sigh, he relented, his words dripping with frustration. "Fine, you want to know what's going on? I'll tell you. I'm tired of this."

Theo's words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. You stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to continue, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Tired of what?" you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carried the weight of a thousand unanswered questions.

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the storm raging behind his eyes. "Tired of pretending," he replied, his voice low and filled with bitterness. "Tired of pretending that you're mine when you're not."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with disbelief. "What do you mean?" you demanded, your voice rising in pitch as you struggled to comprehend his words.

Theo stood up from his chair, his movements tense and controlled. "You know exactly what I mean," he shot back, his frustration boiling over into anger. "You keep stringing me along, making me think that there's something between us when there's not."

His accusations cut deep, slicing through the fragile facade of your relationship and leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "That's not fair," you protested, your voice trembling. "I've never tried to lead you on, Theo. I care about you more than anything."

"Then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you keep going from being all over me when we’re alone to introducing me as your ‘friend’" he countered, his voice rising with each word as he took a step closer to you, his eyes burning with intensity. "Why do you keep pretending like there's nothing between us when we both know that's not true?"

"I'm not pretending," you insisted, your voice cracking as you met his gaze head-on. "I'm just... scared."

Theo's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "Scared of what?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

"Scared of losing you," you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "Scared of ruining what we have because I'm too afraid to admit how much you mean to me."

Theo's anger seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a raw vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I'm scared too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to take your hand in his. "Scared of letting you go because I'm too afraid to admit that I love you."

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you and Theo stood there, locked in each other's gaze, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. The tension that had once divided you now seemed to dissolve, leaving only the raw vulnerability of your shared emotions.

Without a word, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around Theo in a tight embrace. He responded eagerly, pulling you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

"I love you," you whispered against his chest, the words spilling forth from your heart without hesitation.

Theo pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that took your breath away. "I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.

Without another word, Theo cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. His thumbs brushed lightly against your cheeks, tracing the curve of your jawline as if committing every detail of your face to memory. You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hands against your skin.

Drawing you closer, Theo's arms enveloped you, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in the space between you.

With a gentle tilt of his head, Theo closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up emotions, all the longing, and all the unspoken words that had lingered between you.

As the kiss deepened, you melted into Theo's embrace, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

Lost in the sweetness of the moment, you felt as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Every brush of Theo's lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with an intensity you had never known.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves lost in each other's gaze once more, jumping at the sound of a voice clearing behind you, bringing you back out of your stupor.

Turning around, you found your mother standing in the doorway, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she observed the scene before her, the tension that had filled the room moments ago now replaced with an air of affection.

"I've been wondering when you two would finally make it official," she teased, her voice filled with amusement.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you couldn't help but smile at her playful tone. "Alright, let me do this right this time," you said, gesturing to the boy beside you. "Mom, this is Theo. My boyfriend."

Your mother's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she glanced between you and Theo. "Well, it's about time," she chuckled. With a final wink in your direction, she turned and retreated from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

You turned back to Theo, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, was that better?" you joked, a hint of relief in your voice.

Theo chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his hands found your waist again. "Perfect.” With a playful grin, he pulled you into another sweet kiss.

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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My first choice (part 2/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 8500 (this is why I divided it into 2 parts lmao)

warnings: friends to lovers, more angst (death of a parent, attempted harassment), hurt/comfort, an embarrassing amount of softness, Aegon is the smartest one for once (and I’m trashing Jason Lannister again!) author’s note: this is heavily inspired by “Little women” (2019) and Amy March in particular (read the rest of my long-ass explanation in part 1). again, I apologize for the angst! it gets worse before it gets better

Part 2. In a room full of art I stare at you

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Aemond. Maybe you were too blind to notice until it was too late or maybe you were doomed from the start. From the moment when the boy, who everyone deemed to be intimidating and reclusive, bent down to you to offer help without any hesitation. The second-born son of the King, tall and close-mouthed, surely had more important things to do than waste time on a strange girl crying over her stupid dress — and yet, he only showed you solicitude, asking for nothing in return.

You thought that mayhaps you owed him, and were seeking the opportunity to return the favor. Or at least that’s how you tried to justify the fact that you were looking for him every chance you got. You often found a reason to chat with Aemond during dinners and feasts, feeling bad for him spending time on his own — and you learned that he was very easy to talk to. You made sure to visit the training yard if he was there and sometimes stayed to watch him train for hours, even — or especially — when everyone else already left. His tenacity and strength had certain allure but under all those layers, you saw a lonely boy whose only friend was probably his dragon.

Despite the circumstances and his preferred solitude, Aemond never rejected your company, however sudden it might have been. Even when Aegon foolishly suggested playing hide and seek one evening, bored out of his mind, and you busted into the library and stumbled upon Aemond, who looked like he had no interest in silly games. And yet, when you awkwardly asked for the best place to hide at, he guided you to the enclosed area of the reading room. It was dimly lit by just a few candles and, somewhere between feeling uncomfortable and getting scared, you reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Furthermore, he stayed with you and cheered you up with stories about Old Valyria, making you forget about any childish fears.

As the two of you have grown older, you often heard people being frightened by Aemond’s disposition but you found there to be no ground for that. He’s never been rude to you nor had he lost his temper, regardless of circumstances — and the day you saw him without the eyepatch for the first time was the prime example of that. It was getting late and Aegon had too much to drink and, while running around in a drunken stupor, he cut his hand somewhere in the yard. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep but he was bleeding and refused to get help, against your best wishes. He was babbling that scars adorn a man — and then, in an attempt to escape you chasing him, he barged into Aemond’s chambers. You ran in merely a second after, with explanations at the ready, and were met with his younger brother standing there, looking startled. It took you a second to realize he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch.

“My scar will be easier to hide,” Aegon giggled, not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

It was the only time you had to make an effort not to slap him in the face. You thought it was mostly a secondhand embarrassment, which was part of the experience of being Aegon’s friend, but the look on Aemond’s face, hurt and humiliated, also made your heart ache.

“His scar is a reminder of his bravery and the strength of his character that he should only be proud of,” you gave Aegon a death stare. “Yours will be a reminder of your idiocy.”

It seemed to work as his smile vanished and he even muttered an apology, leaving hurriedly to call for the maester. When you turned to Aemond, he already had his eyepatch on, and you fought the urge to come and take him by the hand again. You didn’t want to bother him at such a late hour, so you opted to offer an apology, too, and leave him be.

“His behavior was unworthy. But I meant what I said,” you turned to Aemond on your way out. “And the sapphire looks very pretty,” you could swear you saw a trace of a smile on his face but you chose not to think much of it.

With every encounter, sudden or not, and every conversation, most of which were too short for your liking, you were making more room for Aemond in your heart. You should’ve known you were a lost cause when you actually told yourself — out loud, with hands grabbing the edges of your table — “I will not fall in love with him.” At that point, you already did. He always worked so hard to be seen — and you only had eyes for him all along.

You hid your true feelings well enough for anyone to take notice — but your father was no fool. He also knew better than to meddle with whatever your thinking process was. So he watched from afar for quite some time, until you started catching his curious glances on you every time you went to talk to Aemond. Predictably, after yet another feast he could not resist bringing up the topic.

“Did the royal menace have too many cups of wine again? Haven’t seen him this evening,” he adored Aegon whole-heartedly, and you suspected that their shared love for crude humor was the main reason for that. You didn’t mind.

“Wasn’t that many, actually,” you chuckled. “But he asked me and Aemond to help him to his chambers, said he wasn’t in the mood today.”

“Well, you seem to really enjoy Aemond’s company. I assume that the feeling is mutual?” he looked expressively at you.

Your face grew hot at his words. You also felt your heart break just a little.

“We are merely friends,” you told him, your smile too tense to be believable.

There was a shadow of concern in your father’s gaze, followed by a sad sigh.

“You will let me know if anything changes, though?” he mustered a smile in return and his was much brighter than yours.

“You will be the first one to know,” you promised as he came closer to bring you into a bear hug. You never spoke of it again.

Surprisingly, the only other person who seemed to have suspicions about the nature of your and Aemond’s relationship was his father, the King. You didn’t think he was aware of your existence, and even when your friendship with Aegon grew stronger and you became a regular guest at the castle, you soon realized Viserys barely paid any mind to his younger kids’ whereabouts. You would catch a glimpse of him in the halls and curtsy out of politeness but didn’t expect him to notice. You got too comfortable with his absence — so much so, that one day, when Aegon was carrying your supplies and humorously complained about the lack of art in the castle, you blithely suggested painting a portrait of the King. The last thing you expected was for said man to step out of the corner.

“I would be delighted,” he cut right to the chase. “Lady Y/N, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look scary up close, his face wrinkled and a tad too tired, but quite benevolent. He simply asked if you would be content with drawing him on the Iron Throne and you agreed, just as easily. Truth be told, you didn’t think he would follow up on his offer — being the King and all that, but he sent a carriage down to fetch you literally the next day. Viserys took the task with juvenile ardor, bombarding you with questions — what pose to take, what paint do you use, how quickly will it dry and how did you learn to draw. After he was satisfied with the answers, he changed the subject.

“My wife considers you to have a positive influence on my eldest son,” he pointed out with ill-concealed interest.

“I deeply appreciate her trust but I believe that he is capable of changing on his own,” you corrected him courtly.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he disagreed with a mischievous grin. “I’ve only heard good words about your guidance. It seems that you rein him back so easily, you would’ve made for a fine wife.”

You silently groaned at his comment.

“Your grace, I can assure you, our relationship is strictly of a friendly nature.”

“Oh, I know, I have seen you two,” he said, laughing, and when you peered at him, you saw that it wasn’t his usual uncomfortable-looking crooked grin but an actual genuine laugh.

“Shall you ever lay an eye on any other of my sons,” Viserys continued, much to your surprise. “Do not hesitate to tell me,” and his face suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You ducked behind the canvas so he didn’t see your heated cheeks.

His suggestion lodged in your memory and even though you wouldn’t dare to actually approach the King, you held out hope that maybe he would give Aemond a similar hint. But months passed, Viserys’s condition drastically worsened, and for whatever reason, he never mended the relationship with his children. And eventually, your hope was gone.

You didn’t lie to Aemond when you told him about having power over who you love. But you failed to mention that said power has its limits — and doesn’t guarantee that your feelings won’t be one-sided. You learned that lesson the hard way when you had to face up to the reality you were in. Your love for Aemond seemed to be as infinite as the ocean — and you had to fit it in a fragile vessel of your heart. At first, you felt the waves raging at the mere glance of his, at every gesture of his goodwill or just upon hearing his voice. The storm of your feelings would splash over the rocks of your self-control but you survived the roaring torrent of love, time after time. The rough ocean grew calm over the years as you came to terms with being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

You did choose to harbor feelings for Aemond, and you had no regrets about that. But when adulthood came with its own responsibilities that you had to focus on, all your energy was put into finding a husband. You were aware that your choice would have a major impact on your family as their stability depended on it. You approached the issue in a cold-hearted manner, prioritizing the duty above all else. Mayhaps, you were too calculated in your pursuit, and that was how you ended up accepting the courtship of a man who had nothing to give but his wealth.

When it comes to Jason, he never ceases to evoke a few feelings, too, but none of them are pleasant. His arrogance is the first thing that catches the eye — he’s wrapped in it and wears it with pride as if it’s another title of his. You often have to bite your tongue and fake a smile in response to his dismissive remarks and borderline vulgar comments. It doesn’t help that his self-esteem is inflated beyond your comprehension, and if only he could put his own face on their House's sigil, he would. You are grateful that he keeps his hands to himself but you notice him getting quite handsy with the maids, and it gives you an unsettling feeling. His behavior is so disdainful and frivolous, you have no doubts that once you are married, you will be merely an accessory to him, a pretty wife to show off to his friends without taking your opinion into account. Showing off is the one thing he does best — and each time you can’t help but compare him to Aemond who doesn’t even know how to take a compliment. You find yourself thinking about the prince every time Jason comes by, and these thoughts help you get through tiresome promenades with the lord and endure boring dinners with him.

But after your last conversation with Aemond, you force yourself to stop thinking about him altogether. That decision is remorseless but you believe it’s for the better — or at least that’s what you convince yourself to think after you run out of the garden and into your carriage, only caring about getting home as soon as possible. You pretend that nothing happened, lying to your parents that the prince was too busy and you had to return earlier than planned. And then you lock yourself in your chambers, with hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of crying. A small part of you hopes that Aemond will come to you the same day and explain himself. But he doesn’t. When you don’t hear from him for another two days, you come to the conclusion that he regretted his sudden outburst. And that his words actually held no meaning.

Cutting Aemond out of your life does seem to be attainable with some time, and you perceive it as just another task, another skill you can master. But getting him out of your head seems like an impossible goal from the start. You are so used to keeping memories of him, cherishing each and every one, you can’t just erase them all at once. You try your best, you do so with ferocious persistence, but there’s always some annoying little reminder ready to surface and catch you off guard at the most inopportune moment.

It gets even harder when four days later you find yourself sitting next to Jason who is even more presumptuous than usual. At this point, you feel like your nerves are at the limit, so you can’t even find it in yourself to keep up the act. You push your food around the plate, jumping from one pointless thought to another: the tasteless meal, the barely visible crack in your cup, the revolting tone of the lord’s voice. You feel your mother staring at you, clearly displeased with your attitude, yet Jason is oblivious, too wrapped up in bragging about his winery — or whatever else he is talking about, you have no idea because you stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago.

You think if you stay by his side any longer, you will be physically sick.

So you get up from the table — may be a bit too dramatic for your own liking — and muster out a weak excuse:

“My apologies, I am in need of fresh air.”

You leave before anyone has a chance to stop you.

It seems like an act of disobedience but there’s so much freedom in it, you feel that you can finally take a breath. And you do exactly that once you reach the balcony, several corridors away from the dining hall that felt stuffed with Jason’s ego. As you stand there, soaking up the last rays of the sun, you can’t ignore the obvious question — how is it even possible to marry someone you absolutely cannot tolerate. You never had illusions about the nature of your relationship with him but you at least hoped there would be some ground to build your future on. At yet, right now it looks like you are trying to lay a foundation in the quicksand. For a man of a noble lineage, Jason knows too little of what nobility actually is, and you have enough self-respect to not give him explanations. The prospect of marrying him makes your duty feel like a burden, and you contemplate if you should even take the risk.

You are lost in your thoughts until you hear a thin voice:

“Do you know where the sun lands?”

You turn to find your sister Alyna standing at the door, in her long white nightgown and barefoot, her eyes unnaturally large for her baby-like face. She always talks like that, too thoughtful for her young age, and sometimes she reminds you of Helaena. There you go, another connection to Aemond.

“I do not, my sweetling. Wherever that place is, it’s a well-guarded secret,” you comb her curly hair with your fingers as her curious eyes study your face.

“Maybe it doesn't want to be seen,” she deduces. “Just like you don't.”

Her ability to get straight to the point sometimes blindsides you. It’s also quite liberating to talk to someone who hasn’t yet learned the skill of pretense, and she may be the only sibling of yours with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda. Alyna tilts her head, signaling that she isn’t enjoying your touch anymore — and when you remove your hand, she says, out of the blue:

“Just like Ser Lannister doesn’t.”

You stare at her in bewilderment, and only then notice that the hallway behind her is empty. It dawns on you that Alyna’s nanny Dorea is nowhere to be found. She is only a couple of years older than you, meek and quiet, her trusting nature ever so defenseless — but she is also very pretty. Too pretty for her own good, as your mother likes to say.

You feel a wave of nausea again. This time, it’s followed by a sense of dread curdling in your stomach.

“What did he do?” your voice comes out unusually calm, in striking contrast with how you are really feeling.

“I heard him talking to Dorea outside my chambers. I wanted to join the conversation but he asked me to leave,” her brows slightly furrow. “He said there are some things I am not supposed to see.”

It may be the first thing you and Jason can agree on, you think. It is also the only thing because you certainly will never agree to marry him — and that realization frees you of any false politeness and self-restraint.

“What are those things?” Alyna naively asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I shall go and ask him,” you pat her on the cheek. “But you stay here, alright? I will be back before you know it.”

Usually, it would take about a minute to reach your sister’s chambers, but you cover the distance twice as fast. You are a couple of feet away when you hear muffled voices — one is demanding, the other one is scared, and both are well-known to you. You grasp the situation in no time and run to quickly open the door. When you walk in, you feel a flare-up of anger at the sight: Jason grabbed Dorea by the hips, trying to pull her closer, as she weakly protests, her palms pushing at his chest in an attempt to get away. The squeak of the door makes them turn their heads to you, and you see the distressed look on the nanny’s face.

And then their gazes fall behind your back, and Dorea gets horrified.

You easily guess the reason for that — your younger sister isn’t very good at following orders. So Alyna mumbles, standing next to you and looking at her nanny:

“I do not think she likes it.”

“Neither do I,” you throw Jason a baleful stare. “Let her go and get out.”

He removes his hands — so carelessly, it almost seems like he’s offended by your suggestion of his wrongdoing. Dorea immediately comes to your side, ashamed and distraught.

“Did he hurt you?” you inquire, helping to adjust her dress.

“Lady Y/N, I think you misinterpreted — ” Jason tries to say but you shut him off.

“I am not talking to you,” you scowl in his direction. Your face softens when you ask Dorea again: “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, sheepishly trying to explain:

“I didn’t do anything, I-I didn’t want to, and he said... He said he is a lord and I sh-should be flattered.”

Not only did Jason has the audacity to pull that off but he also wanted to do so at your little sister’s chambers — and you simmer at the thought.

“I believe you,” you gently stroke her shoulder. “I promise you will never see him again.”

“These are some unrealistic expectations,” Jason sneers, walking to you but his grin dies down when you look at him again.

“I know your opinion of women isn’t very high — trust me, the feeling is mutual — but you cannot seriously believe you will fool me,” you sense that now he isn’t pleased with your attitude but you don’t care. “When I told you to get out, I meant it. You are not welcome in this house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wise decision to make if we are to be wed,” Jason contemptuously hisses.

“Then I guess the wedding is off,” you glare defiance at him. “But whoever you end up marrying, I hope she outlives you. Just so she can spit on your grave,” the last part is meant only for him to hear.

And he definitely does as his face reddens with rage. Jason roughly grabs you by the hand, and your nose fills with the stench of wine when he speaks:

“You are in no position to make demands,” he drawls. “Your family is in debt up to its ears, you little halfwit, so I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”

While he doesn’t see it, Alyna looks between you two, and, out of the corner of your eye, you notice her frowning. She doesn’t do well with conflicts as they upset her deeply, which can only trigger one reaction. Before you can say anything, a high-pitched scream shatters the room, echoing through the whole house.

Jason removes his hand within a second, looking shocked, but Alyna stands innocently with her mouth closed as if nothing happened. Your parents come to her chambers in the blink of an eye.

“What is wrong?” your mother looks at you all uncomprehendingly.

“Ser Lannister got lost,” you cooly explain. “He is already leaving.”

“And why is that?” your father glares at him with suspicion.

You want to spare Dorea the humiliation so you pause for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. But Alyna has no understanding of what a maiden’s honor is — and she loudly proclaims:

“Ser Lannister was touching Dorea, and she didn't like it.”

No one in the room needs an explanation for that.

“You shameless scoundrel!” your father roars at Jason, who unsurprisingly isn’t as courageous as before.

“Ser, there clearly has been a mistake — ”

“It was a mistake to let you in,” your father rudely interrupts him. “You won’t set foot in my house ever again. Get out of here before I make you!”

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice and storms out of the room as your father’s gaze follows him. He stands with hands clenched into fists, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Pompous jerk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And to think that I was willing to give him my daughter’s hand...!” his voice breaks, hoarse with ire, and you notice a vein pop on his forehead. You have never seen him so furious.

“He’s been dealt with,” you cautiously say to ease the tension. “That shouldn’t be a cause for your concern anymore.”

He turns to you, his eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. As you step closer, you hear whistling sounds with his every breath, and his gaze gets absent. You realize that something is wrong as he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

“Father, are you alright?”

He places a hand over his heart, trying to inhale, a look of fear in his eyes. The chain of events is too sudden to comprehend: his breathing begins to wheeze as he squirms, falls flat on his back and convulses.

And then your evening turns out to be way worse than you could’ve ever imagined. A week later Aegon wakes up at an ungodly hour — and he’s fueled by sole determination to put an end to everyone’s misery. Surely, he must be the only sane person in his house since all his family members seem to be oblivious to what is going on between you and Aemond. Aegon, however, can use his eyes for their intended purpose — and it is clear as day to him that you and his brother are in love with each other.

He caught on to that pretty fast, although the signs were not that obvious at first: you often smile to people purely out of politeness and Aemond may not show his true feelings even under threat of death. So Aegon kept secretly observing you two, taking note of fleeting glances and light touches, of the way you would relax in Aemond’s presence, the way he was always too eager to help you with whatever you needed, and how you two would gravitate toward each other. Both his brother and his best friend were annoyingly stubborn about making their own decisions so Aegon didn’t mean to interrupt — or at least he tried not to. But when your evident mutual pining stretched into years, Aegon started losing his patience.

In the beginning, he initiated small things, asking Aemond to come and greet you (“Oh, I just woke up! And you are already dressed for the occasion”), to deliver you his hand-written message (“Yes, it is incredibly important and I trust no one but you!” — it was his doodling of Aemond), to keep you company during the feast while Aegon stepped out for a moment (he didn’t come back). He asked him to switch places at dinner (so you and Aemond could sit together), to help find the books you wanted (“All those years of you reading should be good for something”), to pick up the portrait of his children (“They are your nephews, is it so hard?! No, I am not being dramatic!”). A couple of times he even pretended to be way more drunk than he actually was just so you and Aemond could help him to his chambers and spend some time alone in the process. None of that worked. At some point, he seriously contemplated locking you both in a room but then came to the conclusion that you would rather team up to find a way out than confess your feelings. Truly, it seemed hopeless, and Aegon thought that maybe he should give up.

But as of recently he couldn’t help but notice that something was clearly off between you and Aemond, although the younger prince refused to talk about it, and you simply stopped visiting the castle. He decided to give it a day or two, hoping that you would sort things out and refusing to even consider the opposite. A week passed and nothing changed, and Aegon cannot bear looking at Aemond’s sour face any longer. So the older prince comes up with a plan.

He is unexpectedly the first one at the breakfast table and everyone who walks in shoots him a surprised glance. They are amazed even more to see that Aegon isn’t drinking which is as rare as a miracle. Aemond comes last and he is the only one who doesn’t notice the change, too wrapped up in his thoughts. Another thing that goes unnoticed is the gleam of sadness on their mother’s face.

Five minutes in, Aegon clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“So, I was thinking,” he drawls loudly.

“That does not sound good,” Otto mutters, unimpressed, which Aegon chooses to ignore and continues.

“Lady Baratheon’s poor taste in men shouldn’t be an obstacle in our way of reaching the grand goal.”

“Which is...?” Otto asks while the younger prince doesn’t move an ear.

“To find a lady worthy of my brother, of course!” Aegon tries his best to say it with a straight face.

Aemond spares him a glance:

“I didn’t know you took much interest in that.”

“I always have your best interest in mind,” Aegon slaps him on the shoulder earning a disgruntled hum in return.

“I was just thinking if we should go over the list of requirements once more,” Aegon suggests.

“I don’t have a li— ”

“Of course you do!” another slap. “At the very least, she should be of a noble kind. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Aemond absentmindedly agrees.

“And we are definitely looking for someone who is keen on reading.”

“Yes,” Aemond rolls his eye and looks at his plate, already showing no interest in the conversation. That is exactly what Aegon wants — and he starts talking a bit faster:

“Someone with a flexible nature...”

“U-hmm.”

“And with a kind heart...”

“Yes.”

“A great listener...”

“Uh-huh”

“Who will attend to your every need...”

“Sure.”

“And may even be of indescribable beauty...”

“Hmm.”

“...And you will still be miserable because you love Y/N.”

“Yes,” Aemond says without thinking — and then it’s too late to take his word back because everyone’s eyes are already on him. When he turns to his brother, Aegon has a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You are welcome.”

Alicent looks genuinely confused:

“Aemond, but why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” Aegon snorts, and Otto raises an eyebrow.

“Years?” his grandsire questions.

“I almost gave up on him,” Aegon keeps talking while his brother just sits there, eye glued to the table.

“She was the one who drew the portrait of our father,” Helaena cheerfully speaks up. “And he kept it.”

“He did,” Alicent nods and gives her son a sympathetic look. “Aemond, she is an admirable young lady. No one would have spoken against it if only you — ”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aemond cuts her off, averting his gaze. “She is to be betrothed to Ser Lannister, and I do not intend to ruin her plans.”

“You cannot be serious!” Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shall you find the courage to propose, she will immediately reject him!”

“She already did,” Alicent avows, to everyone’s surprise.

Aemond looks up at his mother in an instant:

“Did she?” he asks in disbelief.

Alicent gives him a wan smile:

“A week ago, yes. It is rumored that his behavior... left much to be desired,” she explains half-heartedly. Her face, however, doesn’t show any signs of happiness.

“That seemed like a reason to celebrate but it doesn’t sound like it,” Aegon looks at her questioningly, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation.

Alicent dithers as her face falls, eyes getting woeful and voice feeble:

“Her father fell ill that very day. Some say he got too upset with the whole situation, and I...,” she takes a deep breath. “I received a message this morning. He passed away three nights ago.”

Everyone falls silent, their faces showing shock that is quickly replaced by sadness.

“Seven hells,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond doesn’t utter a word, feeling his heart sinking. He knows that you’ve always been your father’s daughter, and the prince cannot even begin to imagine how heartbroken you are right now. He should’ve been there for you, he thinks, full with remorse and guilt.

“You should go,” Aegon turns to him, not a hint of jesting in his voice. “We may give her some time to grieve, but I will gladly take Sunfyre out for — ”

“Why would you need to?” Aemond gives him a puzzled look. “I can take Vhagar.”

Aegon emits a long-drawn groan and says to no one in particular:

“And to think he is the smartest one? I am having doubts”, he then glances at Aemond with reproach. “I am sure her mourning family will not at all get terrified at the sight of your monstrous dragon.”

His brother mulls over the idea.

“It is not safe to fly drunk.”

“I will be stone-cold sober.”

“You believe both of us will fit into the saddle?”

“We will fit just fine, can you stop with your excuses?! I am being reasonable for once, and you are making me regret it!”

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Otto cuts in their bickering, and both princes turn to him.

He holds pause with a blank stare before a sly smile crawls out on his face.

“I would rather recommend the prince goes right away. We don’t want her family to make any rushed decisions,” their grandsire advises, earning a sign of relief from Aegon, who jumps out of his chair.

“We’re leaving this very second! Do I need to drag you out of your —”

“You do not,” Aemond stands up in a hurry — and then Aegon still grabs him by the hand, pulling his brother out of the room.

Alicent gazes fondly after them.

“It was very kind of you,” she says to her father without looking at him.

Otto thinks that, with how well you’ve been handling Aegon, marrying you to Aemond would be a blessing. Because gods know, he is fed up with them both.

On their way to the Dragonpit Aegon can barely hold back his excitement but his brother’s mind is clearly elsewhere. The older prince lets Aemond take time to gather his thoughts and doesn’t bother him along the road. But once they reach the cavernous building and both pop out of the carriage, Aegon decides some encouragement would be fitting.

“Have I ever told you how I met Y/N? That day at the feast?”

Mentioning your name always works wonders — Aemond turns to him in a flash.

“I was jesting around and she was the only one who didn’t laugh at my jokes. At all. Just stood there with a straight face and ignored me. Can you imagine?”

Aemond does know the unimpressed look you usually give Aegon, and it causes him to let out a dull chuckle.

“Took me good five minutes to even make her smile — and, frankly, my success didn’t last very long. Pretty sure half of my jokes landed flat. But you know what was the real issue?” Aegon’s smile is melancholic. “Most of the evening she kept asking about you.”

Aemond looks like the very epitome of heartbreak. Not only was he blind, he was also an idiot, he realizes.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner,” Aegon gives him an apologetic look.

Aemond shakes his head:

“I should’ve told her sooner.”

“Well, it’s only been what, seven years?” his brother chortles weakly while the dragon keepers finally bring out Sunfyre, and the dragon casts Aemond a curious look.

Aegon approaches the beast first, running his hand over the scales that shine bright in the sunlight, and the prince can never get tired of that blinding beauty. But his excitement mingles with another feeling.

“I value Y/N’s friendship, you do know that, right?” he squints at Aemond, who simply nods.

“This is my way of saying that if you mess it up, I might push you off my dragon on our way back,” Aegon casually remarks, grabbing the rope to climb up.

Aemond falters with answering, reluctant to admit:

“There is a chance that I already messed it up.”

Aegon looks down at his brother and gives him a stern glare:

“Unmess it, then.” You don’t remember much from the past week, your days and nights blurred into one another. The only thing that stays on your mind is your father’s face — you can still see it so clearly, with his gentle gaze and his every wrinkle, the corners of his mouth always upturn like he’s a second away from smiling. You also remember how that face contorted in pain, how his body stiffened, and that scene plays on repeat in your head, over and over. And then there are only pieces of memories, torn and mushed together, and you can’t find it in yourself to sort them out.

You spend all your time at your father’s bedside, with a string of never-ending prayers falling from your lips. They don’t seem to help — and nor do the maester’s efforts, and you lose hope with each passing minute. As hours fly, you get a very bad feeling that soon turns into blood-curdling awareness. Deep down, you know what’s to come, and you hate yourself for it. You think you will never stop crying but by the time the maester declares your father’s demise, there are no tears left. Death has many faces — none of them looked at you with mercy.

Your mother wails, overtaken by despair, your sisters don’t leave her side, eyes puffy and full of sorrow, and you are sure that you look the same — yet you feel completely empty. There’s a cleft in a place of your heart, and all the feelings seemed to flow out, leaving you drained and emotionless, but it brings you no relief. Everything in your house reminds you of your father, his presence tangible in the rooms and in the halls, his image still as clear as a reflection in the mirror. The memories of him crawl out of every corner, seep from under the doors, fall on you along with the dust you brush off his things that you can’t make yourself take away.

Stacks of hardcovers with bookmarks in the middle.

The unfinished cup of wine.

The long grey coat hanging on the back of his chair.

Piles of letters left unanswered.

Parchments, ink and a quill that he will never use again.

All the pieces of him that you can’t look at, don’t want to look at — yet it’s all you see, and there’s is no hiding from it. You feel trapped in your own house, and you wait for the walls to collapse so maybe under the weight of them you will find some peace. You are restless in your grief, you are drowning in it.

The day of the funeral leaves a blank space in your memory, void of colors and sounds apart from everyone’s crying. The ceremony is rushed and there is only a handful of family members since your mother couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone yet. You don’t blame her for it — you think she’s too afraid to say it out loud, afraid that speaking the words will make them real, and she’ll have to finally accept his death. You have no problem with acceptance, you just don’t know how to move on. How to stay strong when you are shattered beyond repair.

Your home now feels like a coffin but everyone expects you to be in charge, so you force yourself to. Merely an hour after his body was buried in soil wet with rain, you find yourself sorting out his papers. You look through his diary, his scribbled notes, the calculations he made in attempts to stabilize the emptying coffers. He’s always been the responsible one, keeping count and cutting costs, planning for the future — and yet he’s been robbed of it. None of it makes sense to you and your father isn’t there to teach you. You clench your teeth in frustration, and it makes you want to put your head through a wall.

You push through the second and the third day. You give orders to the maids, who walk on eggshells around the house, sharing concerned looks. You take it upon yourself to bring meals to your mother and all but spoon-feed her so she at least will have some energy to get up from bed. She doesn’t — while you want nothing more than to get away. You’ve had a fair share of responsibilities your entire life but now there’s an abundance of them and it puts you in a chokehold, and you are all alone in your discomfort which brings you no respite at all.

On the fourth day you wake up feeling like the walls are closing in and you can’t breathe, the need to leave anchoring in your lungs. You don’t want to waste another second as you put on a coat right on top of your nightgown, frightened that each moment of stalling might lead to you being dragged into the same routine again. But the house is asleep, and the sun has barely risen when you tiptoe out of your room. You only wake up one maid, telling her you’ll go for a walk so your sudden absence doesn’t come off as a deed of cruelty.

You step outside and close the door behind your back, taking a slow, deep inhale. And just when the guilt is about to sneak up on you — you dart off into the morning fog.

The air is fresh and cooling against your skin as you run away from your house and through the trees, not minding the branches or the damp ground. You breathe the crisp air in, and it makes your body feel weightless, and you speed up, leaving no chance for the responsibilities to catch up with you. Patches of the forest, splattered with all shades of green, bushes and weeds that graze your knees — you pay them no attention as your feet carry you further away, up the hill, to the most remote place you can think of. You don’t know how long it takes for you to reach the narrow wooden bridge and cross the remaining field that ends with a cliff, but when you finally do, your feet ache and your lungs burn and you gulp air.

The sky is draped by the light layer of clouds but the blue of it stretches as far as the eyes can reach, and the movement of the sea can be seen in the distance. The morning is still with silence and it welcomes you, the fresh breeze encircling your body. The feeling of it isn’t gentle as the wind instantly bites every part of your skin that is covered with sweat. You should’ve worn thicker layers, you shouldn’t have rushed, maybe you shouldn’t have come at all — but you are too tired of thinking, of restrictions. Of yourself.

You let the cold seep in and pierce you to the marrow as you watch the waves meeting the horizon. You then close your eyes, hands coming up to cross over your chest. It’s an oblivion of some sort — with no demands and no tears, it’s only you and the wind. The empty space around you matches the emptiness in your heart, and the beating of it sounds like a hollow note. You feel nothing, you feel numb, but it’s so tranquilizing, you can’t help but give in, just to stop brooding for a few minutes — or maybe hours, you care not.

In this state of torpor, you almost miss the sound of wings cutting through the air. When you open your eyes, you only catch a shadow hidden by the clouds and a glimpse of gold but it’s still enough to guess. Sunfyre. At any other time, Aegon’s visit would’ve brought you joy yet right now it feels useless against the doldrums of your soul. At least your sisters will be happy to see him, you think, not having the slightest desire to move from your spot. The wind is now howling, the grass is rustling — and then the small measured sound joins the melody of nature. It sounds like someone’s approaching but their step is nearly noiseless. There is only one person who walks like that, and the realization brings you out of your trance.

You turn to Aemond before he can say anything, your gaze meeting his, and he immediately stands still. The distance between you is just like before, and you only now grasp the amount of time that has passed. You haven’t seen him in two weeks — and so much has changed, and nothing is the same — but when you look at Aemond, at every painfully familiar feature of his, your heart twinges. You really, really missed him, and it’s the first thing you feel in fourteen days.

He notes your lack of protest and hesitantly comes toward you, only pausing when he’s at arm’s length. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, the collar of his coat raised to the angles of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” his tone is filled with sadness. “Even if you despise me.”

“I could never,” you mirror the words he once said but your voice comes out too quiet and blank.

There is only compassion and understanding in his gaze, and you are hungry for both, so you don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t, either, and reaches out a hand — it moves to your shoulder as he says:

“Y/N, I am so sor— ” when his fingers come in contact with you, Aemond suddenly stops talking, and his eye darts to your arm. There is a flicker of confusion on his face that quickly turns into worry.

“You are freezing,” he breathes out, and his worry grows stronger in an instant.

Aemond cautiously guides his hand up and down your arm — you see the movement, clear as day, but you don't feel it at all.

“I didn’t really notice,” you mumble.

You want to tell him that staying with your family drove you up the wall, that you lost sleep and the nights bring you no rest, that you accept your emptiness and loathe it. But the wind is still howling, your mind is clouded with exhaustion, and you are afraid that Aemond will get angry at you.

Instead, he pleads:

“Let me take you home,” he continues caressing your arm. “Please, let’s go back. You can’t — ”

“I don’t want to,” you retort, and all the unsaid words bubble up and pour out. “I could not stay there any longer, it was all too much, I needed a break, I — it just made me feel like...,” your skin finally absorbs the heat of his touch which sends goosebumps down your spine, and you get short of breath.

“Like I wanted to disappear,” you say, voice barely above the whisper.

Your confession hangs in the air, and you catch that same unreadable emotion in his eye. Three heartbeats later Aemond removes his hand, and the absence of it threatens to strip you of your short-lived comfort. But then he unbuttons his coat — and opens his arms to you:

“Disappear here.”

His words break the ice of your numbness, filling your lungs with air — so much of it, you almost feel light-headed. You are cold, and you are lonely, and you missed him. In a heartbeat you fall into his embrace, with the same force one may plummet down from a cliff — only instead of waves, you are welcomed by his warmth, and you instantly sink into it.

Aemond takes you under his coat, gently putting it over your body, and then holds you tight. You instinctively wrap your hands around his waist, nestling against his chest. Your cold palms glide over his shirt, and Aemond involuntarily shivers but doesn’t budge. He starts slowly stroking your back, and you soak up the calmness that radiates off him. His touch is soothing, quieting your mind, and you lose yourself in the serenity that it brings.

You are both lost in time, standing quietly, as your body gradually warms up and relaxes. You listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm of it even and lulling, and it makes you feel at peace.

When Aemond looks at you clinging to him, his heart swells with so much love, he can barely contain it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. Everyone expects something from me now and I... I wish he was still here.”

“Your father was the kindest man I have ever met,” his voice is laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve come sooner but I only found out this morning.”

“And you came,” you remark delicately. “It’s all that matters.”

You snuggle up to him even more and relish in the feeling of his body close to yours, finding solace in it. You let yourself forget about everything else in the world, comforted by his kindness as he shields you from all the worries and the troubles of life.

“Whose idea was it to take Sunfyre?”

“Aegon’s,” the prince chuckles. “He was very persuasive, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he waiting for you on the hill?”

“He went to see your family, offer his condolences. And maybe complain a little since he didn’t particularly enjoy the flight.”

You try imagining the two of them squeezed into the saddle, and you know Aemond must’ve teased Aegon all the way to your house. You feel the tickling of laughter in your throat but it doesn’t go higher and then dissolves. Still, it’s a start.

“How much do you regret agreeing to that?”

Aemond pauses — and then his low voice vines through your hair:

“Right now, I don’t.”

You feel his heart skipping a beat, and for some reason, his pulse speeds up. You wonder what the reason may be, and your cheeks heat up when you are struck by the answer you can’t dare to hope for.

Or maybe you can.

“I’m not marrying Ser Lannister,” you blurt out, your own chest vibrating with anxiety.

Aemond pulls away just a bit, only to have a look at you.

“I heard about that,” he reveals. “He was never a good — ”

“You are under no obligation to say anything or do anything,” you cut him off, nervously lowering your gaze, because if he tries to pity you it will break your heart all over again, and you cannot bear it right now. “I just... I knew I would never love him. So I believe it’s only for the best.”

You keep babbling, but he hardly listens, his eye fixed on your face. Aemond isn’t sure you fully allow yourself to be this vulnerable with anyone. But it’s his favorite side of yours — with your bashful sincerity, your overly complicated explanations that he understands with ease, your habit of talking with hands, with your searching gaze and your eyes bright with life. It’s all the little things that he adores.

It’s what makes his feelings finally spill over.

“...But we don’t need to talk about it, you don’t need to say anyth— ”

His touch is so gentle, you barely register when Aemond puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look at him — and then suddenly his lips cover yours. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, and he gives you a couple of seconds to make sure you won’t pull away. And then he starts kissing you, slowly and steadily, in a way you could only dream of.

Aemond gently cradles your head, his lips are soft and ardent — they meld with yours, and time freezes and sounds fade as you melt into the kiss, into his touch. And at that moment nothing else matters. You are wrapped in his tenderness, the ocean of feelings flooding your body, and he enters your heart like he owns it. He always did.

Aemond is the one to break the kiss, sensing that you are gasping for air. You slowly open your eyes in a daze, as if you’ve been awoken from a dream.

“I will take care of everything,” he affirms, his mouth still only a couple of inches away. “You do not have to worry about a thing.”

One of your hands moved on top of his chest, and you feel that his heart rate is back to normal. The pounding of it pulls you back to reality.

“You mean that?” you whisper. “Aemond, I don’t have that much to offer.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a trail of light kisses up to your temple.

“You have everything a man can wish for,” he reassures you, and his gaze finds yours again. “Everything I have ever wished for.”

The prince takes your face between his hands, and his thumbs follow the contours of your cheeks.

“Even in a room full of art I can only look at you,” Aemond murmurs, his words are flamelike and go straight to your heart, making it flutter.

Only now you notice that the sun emerged from the clouds, and the golden light illuminates everything around you. You bask in it as well as in Aemond’s affection — and he makes you feel seen, safe, cared for. Loved.

“That was very poetic of you,” you tilt your head and lean closer to him.

“I agree with poets on one thing — we have no control over who we love. But I have never regretted loving you,” he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the edge of your mouth. “And if I had to choose, it would still be you.”

When you meet his gaze, this time you read it with ease — and you are sure it’s a mere reflection of your own. An overwhelming feeling sweeps over and spreads through you. But the ocean is calm, and you are not cold anymore — and Aemond does love you, after all.

You feel your mouth quirk in a smile, genuine and a very happy one. Aemond presses his forehead to yours and promises:

“From now on, you will always be my first choice,” and then you see him trailing for your lips.

And you believe him.

the taglist: @greenowlfactif, @mischiefmanaged71, @pasta-rask, @imjustboredso, @iiamthehybrid, @m00n5t0n3, @crispmarshmallow, @bellaisasleep, @aemondssuit, @ipadkidsworld, @itisjustwhatitis, @maximizedrhythms, @fckwritersblock, @hiatuswhore, @fantasyreader130, @bibli0thecary, @teapartydreams, @kyuupidwrites, @thelittleswanao3 (I couldn't tag some of you for whatever reason, so I'll just message you guys)

yep, it's me again!

the title is someone’s quote (I have no idea where it's from, pls help a girl out)

“Disappear here” are Jonathan Carroll’s words that have been engraved in my memory for years and they just popped into my head while I was writing in a haste and only then I realized wait, technically it's a quote, you can’t do that?! but guess what, I already did! I also tried to rephrase these two words but it looked weird so I’m letting you know that I suck as a writer

the bit when she babbles and he looks smitten with her — I couldn't help but think of that scene from “North and South” (it screams Aemond to me!)

I imagined the cliff to look like this 🍃

I originally planned to turn the romance down just a notch ’cause I already have 4 sappy fics and I wanted this one to be more “realistic” but… oh well, me and romance go hand in hand, apparently.

you will see this version of Aegon more often because I enjoyed it immensely!

what do you guys think? I truly hope that wasn’t disappointing! comments and opinions are VERY welcome! 🥺 ✨ my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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crystlizabeth · 5 months

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I miss you

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive, angst, toxic relationship, mention of death.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

It was scary the way he could love you so tenderly and leave with out a word. How his lips trailed down your body his praise putting you in a state where you felt like you were floating his large hands intertwined with yours his body above yours. You let yourself fall into his gravity kiss, your kiss brought him back to life. He wanted every single pice of you and you handed it to him. You were his to treat you soft, yet so cruel.

And if you weren’t under him you stood across from him tears falling down your face, his harsh words digging so cruelly. His thumbs whipping them away his words telling you to stop that. To stop crying making him the bad person, that he didn’t mean to say those mean things.

His arms holding you close in your shared bed pulling you into his chest his warmth. But when you woke he wasn’t there anymore you where cold, and it would be like that for weeks, months at a time him reaching out maybe once. He did this to keep you safe, from the monsters he was when he wasn’t with you. You wish he never let go but that’s just the way it was.

It became a simple routine. When you saw him again his arms held you closed the lights going down. His word were soothing to you, his careful whispers and he kissed your face.

You played so filthily in the dark, for you both were living so many worlds apart. That’s what made everything so hard. And every time he left again with nothing to say not a single fucking word it only made it harder.

You held yourself as a sort of comfort reminding you weren’t alone that he would be back. You missed him, you missed his touch, his kiss, even how he yelled at you.

You could only hope that he wouldn’t be so bored of you. But he would always say how could I that you were the reason he came home. Even if he acted cold he would come behind and kiss your shoulders whispering sweet nothings to you the reassurance drowning out your insecurities.

You wished he stayed and he wished he stayed to, but his work was his life and you were just a light in his life important yes, but not important enough. He wished he’d done a lot of things with you he wished he wasn’t so scared to put that band on your finger.

He must tell the truth, but he already made you cry how he knew your heart stayed heavy with out him. Your teary eyes looking up to him begging him to stay before he went away. He couldn’t keep hurting you he couldn’t trap you to continue to love him, I love you, you would say.

I know he would answer, tell her the truth that he loved her that he would do anything for her yet he never did he never said I love you.

He knew what your friends said to you that if you weren’t such a fucking loser with no self respect you drop him because he treated you like shit. But you insist that he was who you wanted that you missed him and loved every bit of his broken soul.

You both were nothing but two broken kids who hurt eachother. Everyone said that if your love died would it really be a bad thing? That maybe you would be happier but with Simon your smile was so bright, you’d given so much and he’d given you barely anything. He knew how hard you cried over him, how miserable he made you yet your smile was so bright. How could he the man’s that’s made you throw up sob cause a smile that was so happy.

His arms pulled your body out of the tub the cold water soaking him and his clothes as he held you close. Your limp body falling close to his as he cradled you your dead body close to him. Your hair sticking to your face. He cried, normally rather die than cry in font of you and god he’d rather lie then tell you that he was so deeply in love with yiu, but his fucking pride his fear to love and open himself kept that part of him from you. You did nothing but show him your love and friendship you had him smile and laughed like he’d hadn’t done in years. He wasn’t there, maybe if he’d just pick up that damn phone when you called you still be here warm, filled with life and not cold and dead.

I miss you, was the text you last sent after all of those blue bubbles keeping him updated with what you were doing.

His back was against the wall as he held you so close he could save you, he wish he stayed. He couldn’t be what you needed to him he was unlovable, but now he could see that how he made you feel. While you were bleeding in the tub, you could only whisper how much you missed him, that you wished me love you the way you did him.

I love you, god I love you so much I’m so— harsh sobs left his lips im so fucking sorry..

I miss you, god he missed you.

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

Note

could i request the scenario where pregnant reader gets injured quite badly and one of the drivers is really worried and protective over her! like she badly burns herself at a christmas party trying to help one of another drivers kids or she trips over really badly? just some hurt/comfort !! 🪼☀️

Note: since I've already done the one where she trips, I went with the other one! Also, I'm not sure how it works in other countries, but when my mum had something similar happen to her, the lady at the pharmacy was enough to take care of it!

Cw: reader accidentally burns herself, pharmacy visit, medications

The McLaren Christmas party was in full swing as you felt someone tug on your dress, looking down to see who you could only pinpoint to Oscar Piastri's carbon copy, "hey Lucas! You look very handsome today!", you complimented the little boy, seeing him immediately blush. Like his father, little Lucas Piastri was also a shy boy, but in the buzz of the whole team, he managed to befriend you when he went up to see the races when his parents weren't around, "I want to bring some tea for mummy. She's at the table with my little brother and daddy is talking to a man who won't stop talking", he snickered, directing his eyes. Truthful to his word, Lily was holding her youngest son on her arms while Oscar spoke to one of the sponsorship representatives, so the conversation naturally grew long.

"Of course, darling. I'll carry the pot for you, it's very hot and you might burn yourself", you said, praising his request for help as you grabbed the pot with boiling water from the table. Because not everyone likes the hot drink, the catering team opted to have people get the teapots themselves if they wanted the drink.

You weren't sure how it happened as you had been steadily walking to the table while keeping and eye on Lucas, maybe a little tap from someone and your newly found need to adapt your center of gravity almost daily made you trip slightly, the pot losing its lid and leaving the scalding hot liquid to fall on your arm. While you were able to protect Lucas from being affected, your arm and wrist stung as two older men came to your help, "here, here!", one of them pulled the tray away from your hand as the other checked your arm, pulling you to sit on his chair.

"What happened?", you heard your husband's voice, worry etched in his voice as he looked at the reddening skin in your arm, "tea, she was carrying it for me", Lucas pouted, sitting next to you, "I'm sorry, auntie Y/N, I didn't mean for that to happen", he apoligised.

"It's not your fault buddy" you sighed, squinting as someone held bottle of cool water on either side of your arm, "but I think i need to get this checked out, make sure the skin isn't too burnt and needs something else", you looked at Lando, sending him a quiet signal to get Lucas to his parents and take you somewhere.

Leaving the dinner abruptly, you kept touching your skin, hissing when you hit a particularly hurt spot, "baby, don't do that, you might hurt yourself more", Lando said as he drove to the nearest open pharmacy.

When you got there, your husband was a mother hen, asking the lady who was taking care of your skin, applying a cooling cream and then doing a loose bandage, "until you get home, keep it bandaged up so it feels secure, but then you should air it out so it heals properly. It's not a deep burn, but you were wise to come and get it treated", she tranquilized, "there's no need to worry about mummy or baby, you'll be just fine", she stated, taking off her gloves and taking care of the creams and medications you needed to take home.

When you arrived home, Lando helped you take off your dress, careful with the tender skin as he placed kisses everywhere he could, "Oscar just texted me a drawing from Lucas wishing me a speedy recovery, look! It's a Formula One car by the word speedy, at least I think it is", you said, noticing a frown on your husband's face, "I'm sorry this happened", you attempted, hoping it would cease the crease on his forehead.

"It's nor your fault, and it's not Lucas' either", he explained, "I don't like seeing you hurt. You were being brave for him, but I saw the tears when the lady put the cold water bottles, and how you hiss everytime you move your arm. I don't like seeing you hurt, and little one doesn't either, she's been kicking non stop", Lando pouted, caressing your bump as he helped you put on your pyjamas pants, "if it's any consolation, I'm going to need you to be glued to me so I can do some daily things", you teased as if he hadn't been glued to your side since he heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time.

"How bad does it feel?", he asked, looking for your honesty, "it's okay. The local anesthetic cream is helping, but I could do with some cuddles", you said, allowing yourself to be sorry about the situation for a little bit, "cuddles it is, then".

(Thank you for you submission ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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ckret2 · 4 months

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Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:

Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.

Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.

It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.

The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.

At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.

And they'd brought rocks.

####

Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:

"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.

Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.

He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.

####

Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"

"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.

"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"

"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."

"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.

"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."

"I don't wanna get arrested!"

"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."

Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.

"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"

"What do you want me to draw you doing?"

"The coolest thing you can think of."

Mabel considered that, and got to work.

The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"

Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"

Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.

"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."

"I'm not, I promise!"

"Then why do you keep staring at me?"

"Um."

"Let me see!"

"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"

Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"

"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."

Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."

"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"

"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."

"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"

"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"

"Chills."

"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"

####

At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.

"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."

####

"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.

Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."

Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"

Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"

"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"

"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"

"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."

"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."

"Aw, really? Thanks!"

"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."

"Don't do that, though."

"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.

Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."

"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"

"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."

Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.

And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.

"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.

"So brush it!"

"No. Never. You can't make me."

"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"

"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.

Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"

Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."

"I'll be right back!"

She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.

"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."

Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."

"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."

Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.

And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.

####

Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.

Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet.

"Truth or dare," Bill said.

"Dare!"

"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"

"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."

"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"

"That's easy! Gasoline!"

"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."

"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"

Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."

Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"

"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"

"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"

Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.

####

Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"

"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"

"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"

"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"

"What?"

Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"

####

It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.

Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.

They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.

"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."

Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"

Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"

"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"

Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"

####

As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh right."

Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.

"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."

"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"

Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.

For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.

"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.

"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"

Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."

"Careful—"

Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.

Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"

Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.

Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.

Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"

Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—

—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"

Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.

Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"

Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.

The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.

Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"

They looked at Bill.

Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.

They bolted up the stairs.

Bill charged after them.

They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"

Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"

"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.

They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.

They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.

"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."

The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.

They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"

"Which craft supplies?!"

The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"

"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"

Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"

Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"

His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"

Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"

"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"

Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"

"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"

From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"

There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."

"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.

Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.

They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.

Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.

Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"

They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"

Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.

"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.

Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.

Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.

Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.

Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"

"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"

But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.

Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"

Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"

Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—

Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."

And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.

Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?

"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."

"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.

"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."

"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."

Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," Mabel said weakly.

Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.

From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"

"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."

Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."

Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."

"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"

"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"

Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"

Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me."

"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"

"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.

"Thanks, man."

Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers. In the dark, the colors were all faded.

This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.

She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.

####

In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.

There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.

And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.

He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.

His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.

But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.

He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.

He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.

What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?

The hair. A bit of his flesh.

Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.

He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.

He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.

His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.

When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.

The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes.

He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.

He needed gold.

####

(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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soapskneebrace · 10 months

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I have a headcanon about Price:

I feel like he'd be the most enraged and violent if their S.O. was hurt or kidnapped. I see this idea with Ghost a lot, but I think Price's threat to Shepherd - 'Then after I go for him, I'm coming for you.' - is just a taste of what he'd act like as a man whose loved one has been targetted. And I feel that he'd be enraged especially because of the cowardice of the person who went after someone vulnerable.

I feel like that paired with the guilt that captains constantly bear would make him a force to reckon with, possibly even reckless enough to cause concern.

This man is dangerous even when it’s just a friend that’s been kidnapped—think of his urgency, his immediate shift, when Kate got taken—so if it’s his partner? Price takes the gloves off.

It’s a rage that is honed to a laser focus. A blast of fire before the blowtorch’s spigot is narrowed to a scalpel-thin line. You are the only priority. Fuck his duty, fuck the world, you got taken on his watch.

It’s a quiet but terrifying thing. Everyone who crosses his path will feel the gravity of his fury, though very few people experience its impact. No reason for him to waste it on people who don’t get in his way.

For people who do? Remember, the gloves are off. John Price will do anything to save you. What happens to him, what he becomes, doesn’t matter.

When he has you back the world will not be the same. A hush will fall around you, for months, when you enter a room of John’s colleagues. You are the one for whom John Price made the earth quake. You are the only one for whom that rage was stemmed.

It is a humbling and breathtaking thing. And no one wants to see it repeated.

#answered #price x reader

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 months

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Ok so now that I've spent some time thinking about the whole "Chuuya was never a vampire" twist, I... still don't like it. For many reasons.

Here's my explanation; if you want to read it, please do. I strive to be fair. I want to wait for the manga release before making a verdict on whether it's bad writing or not, and I also want to see the start of next arc to see where they're going with all this.

If you don't want to read it, and you're having fun with the twist (it is funny. I will admit that much), then skip this and keep having fun! I don't want to ruin anyone's enjoyment.

First of all. It makes no sense. There are things that just do not add up. There was never an indication this was a possibility.

Bro. Did you put on costume makeup for the texture under your eyes? Did it wash off after nearly getting drowned and you had to frantically reapply it behind Fyodor's back and that's why we couldn't see your face for several chapters. Did you take it off again for your dramatic reveal here at the end? I demand smeared undereye makeup Chuuya in the manga when it releases hbfsdjhbfv

Ok this was more a joke. But here's what really irks me.

From what I can recall, this is. True. He needs to have made contact to manipulate gravity. It's also re-established in this very arc.

Great. So how the fuck did he slow the elevator? He was with Fyodor in a separate room! This makes no sense. Did he leave to stop the elevator and Fyodor was like "oh chill. ok come back soon"??? What?!

Here's another thing I want to address:

@ticklinglady I had this same question. However, on thinking on it again, I do have an answer that makes sense - they had to buy time for Sigma to use his ability on Fyodor, to gain knowledge on him about what he knows, and what his ability is. <-I feel confident in saying this is going to be important later. Sigma will still have a role to play and we will find out more about Fyodor!

Alright. Moving on to the themes, and why this also doesn't work (at least for me).

The theme in this arc is very much to do with the contrast between trust vs control. This is Fyodor's failing when it came to Dazai, and it is established very early on as the major contrast between them, in the Sky Casino arc. The vampires, though it seemed silly and random, fit nicely into that theming. And the conclusion, where Dazai showed extreme faith in Sigma and the Agency members (and what an interesting contrast that is; to have someone show faith in ordinary humans when his foil is a man who has faith in god but not humanity), that fits into that theming also. Ok, so this was an extension of that right? Showing faith in Chuuya, as always.

Yeah, no. I want to direct your attention back to this here.

This line is the one that had everyone going "oh man skk is going to fuck you up for that". I made an entire analysis back when this chapter first came out about the themes that we saw, and Fyodor's utter devaluing of the effectiveness of people beyond just their skills and abilities (it's here, if you're curious). This is why I suspected that, since Dazai and Fyodor are intellectually matched, it would have to be Sigma and Chuuya to catch Fyodor off guard - because he only values what people can do, not who they are.

Well, we got a little with Sigma, before Fyodor took control of the situation again. (Rip buddy.) Sigma's tenacity and unwillingness to fall for Fyodor's manipulating him away from helping the Agency was based off his personal choice and free will. He managed to shoot him! Fyodor was reduced to a cheap trick to get close enough to stab him! There was a certain level of payoff.

But Chuuya? I want you to think for a second. What did he actually do? Not a single part of this was Chuuya's idea. It was Mori's - he was at the very least sent undercover under orders, if not sent to Meursault under orders. He didn't even glue his own fangs in apparently. Now let's go over what he did. Why was it so necessary that it be Chuuya there? Well, obviously because gravity manipulation was needed to slow the elevator and the bullet. Oh... hm. So. His ability. Was what was needed, huh?

But it was necessary for it to be Chuuya because of the bond between him and Dazai, right? Oh. Wait. So, Chuuya's personality and goals don't matter - only his ability to read Dazai.

This twist makes it so Chuuya as a person doesn't actually throw a wrench into Fyodor's plans at all. All that matters is that he is Mori's executive and Dazai's partner. I guess he was "utilized" after all. I thought, with his characterization in Fifteen and Stormbringer, that we were moving away from this characterization of Chuuya only by his bond with Dazai. Do you want to scream.

You might be saying, okay, but at the very least it showed the depths of Double Black's bond! ...did it? Not really, at least not to me. The only impressive part of any of this was Mori's preparedness. This was barely an skk plan. It was a Mori plan. Double Black placing their lives in each other's hands is a Tuesday for them. This is nothing we didn't already know. And truthfully, it goes nowhere near the level of sheer trust we saw in Dead Apple. Mori sent Chuuya in sure, but it was only after everything settled down that he realized that Mori suspected Dazai would need help. Before that point, it seemed everyone thought Dazai was dead except Chuuya. Chuuya chose to jump out of that plane. Chuuya chose to risk his life. It showcased his personality, his free agency, and the level of trust they had far, far better. And it was emotionally satisfying! Dazai was extremely grateful that his trust paid off! Chuuya was somewhat conscious during Corruption, enough to weaken his own punch and shout Dazai's name! Dazai prevented Chuuya from having his ability be separated from him by the fog! They are an unbeatable team... but they were still left exhausted, and had to rely only on each other. How does what happened in this latest episode compare to that in a way that makes me believe they've actually outmaneuvered Fyodor?

Listen. I'll take twists that don't really have a great build up if they further the themes or character development, or it just makes for good drama. There's an interesting pay off, at least, so I say "okay, okay. Could've been done better, but I'll let it slide for the intrigue." But here? Nothing. It was boring. Are you bored.

Anime watchers were probably more fine with it. Maybe it was a little disappointing, but oh well. But manga readers have been having this plot dragged out for years. A lot of said fans (including myself) were excited to see Chuuya become main series relevant and receive present day development - and it seemed like we were going to get that with the recent publication of not one, but two Chuuya backstory novels, and the drama of this arc pitting Dazai and Chuuya against each other. Instead, this did absolutely nothing of interest for his character. Why was he even here?

Which brings me to the last point, which is the characterization.

Going back and re-reading this entire arc now, it becomes one big stage performance. Ok, fine, it's a little funny. But now there's hardly anything of value to these interactions. The only ones that actually matter are Fyodor and Sigma, and Fyodor and Nikolai. All that buildup to drama between Double Black, to another incredible display of trust, to something shifting and changing from the status quo... all that build up, and nothing has changed for Chuuya, or for Double Black. The show of trust wasn't even that dramatic really. Are you bored still.

This also weakens Fyodor's character to me. Fyodor witnessed their incredible show of trust in Dead Apple. I assumed he was prepared for skk-typical bullshittery, you know, being a genius on par if not greater than Dazai. You're telling me he was so overconfident he completely missed that Chuuya wasn't a vampire? Really? Fyodor really had nothing in place that would verify whether the vampires were actually under control? He wasn't constantly checking for a plan? It really was just red eyes and fangs, and he thought that was fine? That's it? Ok.

Truthfully, I was kind of :| about several of the preceding twists in the Meursault arc, particularly the dagger Fyodor pulled out when he started acting to Sigma, and the door railing being preemptively crushed by Chuuya before the drowning started. The dagger was actually ornate in the manga, which raised several questions - it couldn't have come from a guard. It made me think there was more to that interaction than just Fyodor pretends to have a split personality and that there was actually something to that knife. Well, it was made to be a regular knife in the anime, so I guess theorizing across those lines are dashed.

What bothered me the most though was the crumpling of the rail to stop the door from completely closing. There was no indication of this in the manga. None. No one could've predicted that - because it's stupid. The water filled so fast it couldn't get out of the crack in the door, even though it was huge??? Dazai was in the control room - you're telling me that there was no security camera focused on the door??? You know, where you would position a security camera??? It was dumb to me, but I was willing to roll my eyes and move on because I was expecting a good payoff to all this, and well, it was funny.

But now, the whole arc is one extended joke skk were playing on Fyodor. And you're telling me that's how our major antagonist goes out? Our major antagonist of several arcs? Be for fucking real.

And depending on when Dazai figured it out, it may even cheapen earlier scenes. If he found out after the elevator slowed like people have been theorizing, I could accept that. That's fine. But I need people to recall: in the actual episode he states "it was all an act".

Is Dazai probably lying to save face? Sure. But as of this moment we actually have no evidence it wasn't an act from the beginning. Remember that Ango was communicating the whole time with Dazai. Remember that Mori was involved and helped Tanizaki and Kenji get to safety. It's entirely possible it was all premeditated.

One last suggestion: the plan name was "Good-bye" as suggested earlier. This means that even if Dazai didn't know from the beginning, he knew by the time of his speech to Chuuya as he was drowning.

This means that his whole scheme with Sigma was not an extremely dangerous, life-risking play on his part at all (@daz4i has gone to explain why this sacrificialism isn't good for a suicidal character, which I recommend reading, but nonetheless it was still notable characterization for Dazai). And what about this?

Even his own flashbacks and memories were, what? A lie? A performance? For whom? Not for Fyodor, that's for sure.

For us. The readers. For the people who are invested in these two and their dynamic. For the people who wanted development between them, because there are actually issues there that have not been resolved. People wanted Dazai to show real concern. Chuuya is still bitter, even if Dazai thinks everything is fine and the same since he left. There was a tease that we're going to get how Chuuya felt when Dazai left the Mafia at some point in the future. People were making angsty art and writing and getting really excited because all the prior interactions had appeared to be set up for the payoff of this drama.

We get an introduction in the dungeon. We reveal their partnership and fearsome reputation during the Lovecraft fight. They perform flawlessly in Dead Apple. Throughout all this, they need no communication. They read each other and respond in tandem, always... but there's still an underlying tension in the way they do not talk to each other. I, and many others, had thought the prison escape arc was the breaking point for some development, since their prior appearances were all meant to establish them as a team, and this arc dealt heavily with the breaking of established things.

But no. Deus ex skk is perfect. They have no issues or flaws. Do you want to scream again.

Anyways. I recognize I'm probably just very disappointed right now and by tomorrow, I probably won't care anymore and will just roll with it. I think I was extra disappointed because while I tempered my expectations for, say, Yosano and Kyouka's involvement (sigh...), I fully expected skk would be handled well, being the fandom faves and where the money is at, so I guess I took the disappointment that much harder.

However, I'm eager to see how the manga tackles the ending, and if we will get any extra cues or better pacing there that may make me not quite so bitter. If it's any consolation, I do think we'll be getting Chuuya focus at some point in a future arc, and while I do think Fyodor is dead, I doubt he will have stopped haunting the narrative. He'll be back in some capacity. I'm pretty certain he's still the mastermind.

And I'm curious about the next arc and what's happening there. Maybe some things will be revealed later that will help smooth out the flaws here.

#storyrambles #listen by tomorrow i'll probably be totally chill and whatever about it #i just needed to get this out #bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd spoilers #bsd negativity

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