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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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Can't help falling in love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s until you both hear a loud cry:

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

She sprints decisively in your direction:

“It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does it hurt?"

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

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

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

"...Whose eye?"

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

Aemond shakes his head:

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure I can't take his eye?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am friendly enough!"

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

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

“You come bearing gifts?”

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

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

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

There's a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure:

“Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

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

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

"We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

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

“I thought you quite liked it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he should have.

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

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

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

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

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don't seem surprised.”

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

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

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them.

“You should tell her the truth.”

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

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

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

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him:

“Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.”

The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond gives you some time before asking again:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me”.

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

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

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

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

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

“You pity me?”

He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

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

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

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

“Y/N, I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

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

... 1.

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

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

And so he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

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

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

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

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

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why haven't you told me?" you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

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

"Tell me that I am wrong," he whispers, begging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

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

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

His favorite memory will be this.

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

author's note: I'm sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I'm a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don't want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, I hope this was bearable, thank you for reading!

💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 💞 my masterlist 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley's song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there's also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. P.S. I'm also on AO3 (lol, who isn't), in case you prefer to read fics there.

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

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whispereons · 3 months

Text

Oracle!Reader Part 23

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 22, Part 24

Warning! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this is pretty gory and not happy all the time. Plus yandere but that's the expected for SAGAU.

Xingqiu and Chongyun both showed muddled emotions at your words of leaving Liyue.

“That may be best for you…” Chongyun says first as he keeps his gaze on the floorboards.

“Yes, I agree. Although I never expected that you would have to leave Liyue so soon, it's clear that you aren't safe here.”

Xingqiu’s words that were full of understanding still had disappointment sprinkled in.

“We can't do much to help you when it comes to Ningguang, but Mondstadt is a different story. Do you have the talisman on you right now?”

Chongyun takes a few steps closer as you lift the amulet for him to see. He rubs one finger on it, examining the symbol that appears at the action.

“It's still at full charge, good. The road to Mondstadt can either be empty or full of demons depending on the day. But once you get to Wangshu Inn, it becomes much safer.”

“Because of Xiao, right? Despite how the situation looked when I first met the Adepti, I'm on relatively good terms with them now.”

It was a bit risky telling them this, but they both deserved to know at this point.

“When are you planning on leaving? Is your meeting with Ningguang today?” Switching the topic, Xingqiu brings the focus back to the most pressing issue.

Nodding, you answer. “My meeting is with her today, but I'll probably have to leave either at midnight or early tomorrow morning. The sooner, the better.”

“Then I can offer you some help that should make staying in Mondstadt a bit easier.” Xingqiu grins as he takes out paper and some ink. “I happen to know someone-”

“Albedo, right?” Cutting off Xingqiu as you think back to his connection, you continue. “Together you made the book, uh what was the name again? A Legend of a Sword? It got pretty popular in Inazuma. I remember there was a whole festival on light novels that you both attended too.”

Once you stop, you notice Xingqiu squinting his eyes at you before replying. “That's really creepy, you know? If I didn't know you were the Oracle, then I would have believed you to be some stalker.”

“If I was, then I wouldn't be stalking you of all people.” You snapped back as he grins while shaking his head.

“But yes, I'll send Albedo a letter in advance so that he can arrange for you to be settled nicely over there. I won't mention the Oracle situation as the Creator didn't want you to be known widely like that.”

It's been so long since you last heard the title ‘Creator’ be mentioned despite the fact that all of your problems come from their supposed existence.

Only goes to show just how ingrained the Creator is in this world.

“Thanks Xingqiu. Albedo is the chief alchemist and well respected among the community, so I should be in safe hands.”

Xingqiu merely hums in response as Chongyun tugs the amulet closer to him.

“Just trying to apply a better talisman on it.” He mumbles in accordance with your stare as he settles himself closer to you.

He's basically pressed against your side, but you strangely don't feel uncomfortable to have him close.

As the pair focus on their own activities, your mind wanders off to Albedo.

Albedo, the chief alchemist and homunculus created by Gold, the famous Khaenri'an scientist. Khaenri'ah, which also held so much information that could be connected to Celestia…

It was a long shot, but you could try digging for information about Celestia from him. The deal that Celestia made with Teyvat still bothers you to no end. With the age of this deal unknown, you might even have to look into the primordial dragons if it's even older than the Archon war.

A light shining brought you back to the present and your eyes flickered down to where the amulet shined in Chongyun’s hands.

Once it died down to reveal a more intricate symbol than before, Chongyun nodded, satisfied with the final product.

“This one is a lot stronger and should last longer now. I know you can fight well, but the demonic energy in Bishui Plain and Qiongji Estuary has shown to rise around this time of the year.”

Carefully taking the amulet from him, you thumbed the symbol with curious eyes. “I get it, thank you. Does it activate on its own, or do I have to activate it with something?”

“It'll work on its own. Depending on the amount and degree of demonic energy around it, the workings will change.”

Motioning with his hands, Chongyun’s calm voice explains the working to you. At the end of the rather lengthy explanation, you nod and condense the information in your mind.

“And now that Instructor Chongyun is done teaching you, I'm happy to say that I'm done with the letter. Have been for a while, but I saw no need to interrupt the oh so fascinating lecture.”

Raising the letter, Xingqiu lazily waved it as Chongyun bristled but ultimately said nothing.

“I can send this once I get home. Unfortunately, neither me nor Chongyun will be available to accompany you through your journey.”

Xingqiu tsk’d at his own words while Chongyun turned his head away, visibly sulking.

“My family was just hired to check out Wuwang Hill and my attendance for this is mandatory. Xingqiu’s father is forcing him to stay and attend meetings with his brother for the week as well.”

All you could do was smile sadly in response.

Before long they were both forced to leave by Baizhu who insisted on total privacy for the reviewing of your medication and discharge.

Watching them climb down the stairs from the window in your room, you listen absentmindedly to Baizhu.

Changsheng still refused to see you. Something Tevyat was clearly displeased with, as the once sunny weather quickly turned cloudy. The cold-blooded creature must be huffing in annoyance by now.

“And this is the overview of medication and supplements to take, with the doses and dates to take them.”

Casually looking over the paper received from the shady snake bastard, you hummed for a moment before stuffing it into your bag.

“All of it is paid for by your special benefactor. And the drug you requested has already been paid with by your body, as we both know.”

‘Must he phrase it like that?’ You internally questioned as you snatch the medication and shove it into your bag.

“I'm glad for it. Maybe even more so if she didn't pin so many babysitters onto me.”

At your grumble, Baizhu’s smile wavered at the edges. Either he truly hadn't known why there was extra ‘security’ or he was a great liar. You suspect it's a bit of both.

“Then if everything has been covered, I’m happy to say that you're officially discharged as of-” He merely glanced at the sun still high in the sky before finishing. “1300. I sincerely hope that the next time we meet you'll be in a better physical state.”

“And I sincerely wish we never have to meet again.” The words you utter are full of sarcasm, something Baizhu simply chuckles at.

“Now what could I have possibly done to deserve your ire, dear Oracle?”

“It's what you haven't done. A little heads up about all the guards would have been nice.”

“Oh, but I did!” His smile seems a little sharper as he leans toward you, his glasses sliding down to the bridge of his nose. “Didn't I let you know early on that there were quite a lot of guards?”

With an annoyed scoff, you snap back. “You said it was due to the two temples nearby, not cause Ningguang wanted to keep an eye on me.”

Raising his hands with wide eyes, Baizhu tried to placate you. “I'm not part of the Millelith, how on earth could a physician like me know the true reasoning?”

Holding his gaze, you tried to discern what he was truly thinking at this moment. Malice? Amusement? Mocking kindness?

But at that moment, all you could see was genuine surprise in his eyes. It only served to confuse you further.

Was Baizhu truly innocent in this? Your instincts in situations like these were usually correct. Besides, what would Baizhu even gain from deceiving you?

Still, that didn't explain why Baizhu was always so damn shady, but maybe you should chalk it up to an unfortunate side effect of being contracted with a snake.

“Well, then let me reiterate my earlier words. While I still hope we won't have to meet again. I do wish for us to want to meet again.”

Baizhu lowers his arms while fixing his glasses to laugh, the sound is surprisingly tender. “And how do you expect me to tell when that would be? I’m no mind reader.”

Standing up, you stay silent as you slip your bag over your shoulders and move past him. The door opens with a creak as you tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes.

“To put it simply, I’ll want to see you when you discover whatever is hidden in my culture sample.”

The door clicks shut as you leave Bubu’s Pharmacy for good.

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

After a brief but firm pat to Qiqi’s head, you walk down the stairs casually. The slight rustling of the leaves, the fabric of curtains drawn, and the quieting of chatter are all brought to your attention.

Ningguang’s spies and the Millelith guards are all watching you like rabid dogs, waiting for you to slip up and give them an excuse to arrest you right now.

Smiling without hesitation, you get to the last step and pretend that the forced conversations around you aren't scripted, and that the eyes locked on you are of a curious bystander and not the ones of detectives.

Bringing your attention back to the list you have clenched in your hand, you read the first errand on the list.

Return books to library.

Easy enough, and it's even easier when people seem to automatically avoid being in your path.

Is this what a day in Xinyan's life feels like? It's honestly not that bad.

At least you thought so until you got to the counter and waited for the receptionist to return.

Five minutes pass. Then ten minutes, which quickly turn into fifteen in a blink of an eye. You can feel your mood worsening.

Deciding to test something, you walk away from the library and turn the corner. Peeking around the corner, you watch as the ‘customer’ that was standing in the corner all those minutes gets to the counter. Almost immediately, a swarm of people return to it.

Sighing heavily, you ignore the weight of suspicious stares and turn the corner back into the library. Getting back into line feels humiliating, but it's just a quick errand, you tell yourself.

No one moves out of the way, but the quick glances they send you make them pale with each minute.

Not a soul dares to stand behind you.

It's finally your turn, and you place your books on the table with the last bit of patience you had. She doesn't meet your eyes and mumbles something.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Leaning closer, you try to catch her words, only for her to yell.

“It's lunchtime now so I can't accept any more returns or purchases. H-Have a good-d da-ay!”

Flabbergasted at the sheer audacity, you watch her flip a sign on the table and flee the area.

“Fuck this shit.” Colorful curses leave you as you drop all the books haphazardly on the table and storm away.

Crossing it off the list, you follow the main path to the next errand.

Collect reward from Guild

That commission should have given you one hell of a paycheck the last time you checked. Primogems may be worthless now, but you could use the Mora the commission provides.

Plus, you needed to let them know to change it to the Mondstadt region.

Lost in thought of all the technicalities and paperwork you would have to fill out, you weren't focusing on the fleeting whispers around you.

“Is that them?”

“Who else could it be?”

“What a monster…”

“-as long as we get paid.”

“Who cares about-”

“It's me or them.”

“As long as it's them and not me.”

Your experience at the guild was a much kinder one. Katheryne was the epitome of professionalism, just as you remembered her to be. Not that you expected much else from a robot.

After handing all the written work to her, you finally noticed the absence of a certain person.

“Where’s that grouchy Lan? She's usually here, isn't she?” Checking the vicinity, you try to spot the brown recognizable bob.

“The Branch Master Lan is currently undertaking a commission at this time.”

“About the unseen razor, right?”

“That can not be disclosed to unauthorized-”

“It's fine. I’ll see you later, Katheryne.” Turning around, you leave without another thought. Lan wasn't anywhere near the ‘threatening’ list you've created since you last saw her.

Pick up plushie

Crossing out the previous task, you look at the present one with mixed emotions. On one hand, you were happy to get a chance to see something related to Earth, to your world. But at the same time, you couldn't help but wonder if it would serve more as a distraction than anything else. The memories it brought up never failed to leave your heart troubled…

Remembering the money you spent commissioning it ultimately tipped the scales, and so you dragged your feet to the little old lady’s toy shop.

It was empty just as the first time you were there as she hummed. If she was a vision holder you'd guess Hydro judging by the tranquility she radiated.

Her eyes meet yours and a happy smile slips onto your face without much thought.

“Here to pick up the toy, dearie?”

“Yup.” Popping the ‘p’, you watched as she gathered a delicately wrapped box from under the other boxes and presented it to you.

“Enjoy the nostalgic memories a toy can bring.”

You politely thank her before taking the present and walking away. The weight of the box is heavy with dread, and you can only find solace in the fact she didn't refer to it as ‘happy’ memories.

Once sufficiently out of sight, you take to grasping the lid. But you couldn't bring yourself to remove it.

Too many memories. All of them are rushing in and filled with conflicting feelings that would surely crush you. The fear and selfishness of the broken promises and unfulfilled desires would throw you off your game.

With a little too much enthusiasm, you stuff the box of the cat plushie into your bag.

Most likely to stay forgotten and distant from the present you're facing.

Scratching it off harder than the rest, you get to the last errand.

Refill supplies

A smart and mature move considering how you used the whole Medkit during the chase. The soggy bandages and washed away ointment really hurt your heart and wallet.

Revisiting the same shops you went to the first time proved to be ineffective. Either they were completely sold out or no longer supplying them.

Forced to visit more stores, you had to walk around the city a lot more than you cared to. Each store had one of the two situations, and the skittish actions of everyone around you were just the cherry on top.

At one point you even tried to buy the individual items separately, and even that failed.

It's not like you could just wait till next week for the first shipment. You weren't even sure you would live till then.

Eventually, you found yourself sulking on the lower docks, turning the situation around in your head.

If only you lived in Liyue for a little longer, maybe you could have found some of the hidden shops. Befriend a store owner and get a hidden one.

Just who the hell would even go out of their way to get every medical first aid part when it's such a crucial item for so many people in this era?

A name finally comes to mind and your expression sours at the thought. Not that you’d let it show, Celestia knows how many guards are watching you at this moment-

A sudden, rapid series of taps on your shoulder has you spinning around in surprise.

A young boy stands before you. The clothes he wears has visible wear and tear as the fabric frays from the edges. Yet you can't help but think you might have seen him before.

Placing a finger on his lips, he uses his other hand to grab hold of your elbow and tug you along.

Surprised but not suspicious of the kid, you let him lead you deeper into the docks. The dark red of his eyes seem to glow within the shadows as his dirty blond hair acts as your beacon of light.

The smell of fresh fish turns rotten, and the dirt caked under his fingernails stains your clothes. The complete and straight planks become jagged and creaky as you follow him farther.

But you stayed silent.

You recognized a path to the seedy part of the city when you see it.

Instead, you examine the younger boy with a critical eye and finally connect the dots. He must be one of the kids you saved with Yiran.

A smirk creeps up your face. It seems you managed to use your time wisely in making connections after all.

Following along the twists and turns, you don't worry too much about the Millelith. Most of the guards probably couldn't even get this far. If you had to guess, it would only be the detectives who could keep up.

It's not like the hidden underworld of cities as popular as Liyue Harbor are any big secret to them.

Stalls and various shops fill the area as flickering lanterns and other extra lighting give you a wider view.

Multiple people call out to the boy as he silently waves to them. The gaze of the homeless and shady people around aren't warm, but aren't hostile either.

Not that you were exactly expecting a warm welcome, but at least you didn't have to worry about sudden personality changes.

Money could buy you information, but it wouldn't buy you trust in these parts.

He finally stops at a little nook in the corner of the area. The door is worn down with scratches and marks yet the light you can see under it is warm.

Silent as before, he points at you, then to the rows of shops in a sweeping motion before stopping at the door.

Pinching your brows in slight confusion, you chew on the gestures to understand it. High-pitched laughter that suspiciously sounds like children eases into your ears as the boy squirms in place.

“Did you want me to knock on the door when I'm done shopping? That you'll lead me back to the surface?”

It was the only thing that you can think of. And despite your hesitation, the boy nods, clearly relieved that you understood the message.

He must truly be mute, no doubt from whatever horrors he must have faced that lead to the scars poorly hidden by mud on his arms.

You were thankful either way. Just leading you here was great but getting an exit too was even better. Now you could avoid getting mugged and/or murdered on your way back.

“Thanks man, I'll be quick.” With that, you walk away, already following the invisible path to the shops that caught your eye.

As much as you would have liked to explore the various items and weapons they had, you didn't want to keep the kid waiting.

After having to buy a rather expensive medical kit, a minor downside to finding the first medical anything since you left Bubu’s pharmacy, you pick up a minor stitching case.

You could have really used one during your latest and probably not last chase. Stuffing it into your bag, as people eye the magical item with desire, you quickly find the home.

Getting to the door, you step closer than before and take note of the older voice. A woman that's chuckling, and a lingering sense of guilt invades your mind.

Quickly rapping your knuckles on the wood, you step away as the home goes dead quiet.

Multiple little eyes peer at you from windows below you as you lazily grin and wave. They all scatter as giggling resumes and the sound of playing returns.

But not the woman’s voice. You didn't expect it to. It's hard to face the only person you've poured your raw wounds from a child's death to.

The kid finally steps out with multiple clicks of locks echoing around the small space. Smiling, you take no offense to the action. You weren't here for trust, and they weren't helping you out of it either.

His crimson eyes glisten with interest at your bag. He wants his pay, and you're more than happy to oblige.

Stuffing your hand into the bag, you feel the familiar clink of Mora gathering in your hand. Pulling it out, you place an appropriate amount into the pouch he already has prepared.

When you drop it all, he takes it closer to him and picks up a piece. The first thing he does is try to bite it, and the familiar memory of you testing coins the same way makes you smile sadly.

Counting the Mora, he frowns, clearly displeased with the amount. He holds his hand out, and you can feel the other children’s stares digging into you.

“I'm going to give you two things that aren't Mora, okay? But you have to keep it a secret.”

He narrows his eyes, no doubt suspecting you of being a shady person. That's probably why he brought you here first and demanded payment before returning you.

Like this, he has back up and cornered you further into payment of his choosing.

“Do you have a cooking pot?”

He frowns in confusion before nodding slowly. Lifting one finger in a pause motion, before heading back inside his home.

He returns while holding a clean cooking pot. It doesn’t take long before he places it over the open fire you already started.

Small eyes follow your every step as you dig out ingredients from your bag. Mentally going over the ingredients you had originally prepared for your celebration feast if you survived tonight, you drop them into the pot.

4 ham, 3 crabs, 3 shrimp meat, and 3 matsutake potatoes are dropped in.

Turning around, you count to five as the boy gives you a confused stare. But you only wink at him before turning around to look at the pot, as his eyes widen at the sight.

Adeptus’ Temptation sits innocently in the pot as the rich aroma wafts around the area, drawing curious hungry eyes.

Leaning down, you whisper to the boy.

“Get your friends and bring the pot back into your house quickly. This food is blessed and safe as you watched the whole process. I suggest you let the sickly and injured children eat first.”

He looks between you and the pot with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he can't trust you too much, but even the smell of the food was clearly tempting him.

It's the shuffling of feet getting closer that makes him bang on the door, signalling for the other children to come out and help him bring it inside.

By the time the shabby adults come into view, it's just you and the boy ‘talking’ as they grumble and turn around.

The kid still looks displeased. You don't blame him completely, since how can he trust that the food you cook isn't spiked with anything nefarious.

You're not even sure if it can heal people that aren't acolytes. It doesn't work on you after all.

At least they'll all enjoy a hot meal, even if it doesn't work.

Sighing, you take out your last resort from your bag, sadly selecting it and pulling it out. The secret weapon you've been saving since your time in Inazuma.

The colorful assortment of candy wrappers makes the kid’s eyes sparkle with the childlike glee that was absent since you met him. Probably long before you met him.

“It's not just Liyue candy, some are even from Inazuma.” The thought of giving up your hard-earned candy hurt you, but you let it go.

The candy you squirreled away during the Inazuma festival, and the discount ones you bought at cheap prices at Liyue’s markets, were both never going to be eaten anyway.

His hands reach out to snatch the candy greedily from you but you raise it out of reach at the last second. He stomps his foot in childish indignation as you chuckle.

“Sorry, but I need you to bring me back to the outside before you scam me out of any more goodies.”

Finally giving up, he grabs your elbow again and leads you back through the streets. You enjoy the sights as he leads you zigzagging through the stalls.

You can't help but wonder if any detectives are still watching your boring little interactions. Admittedly, you played into the kid's desires more then you had to.

But you couldn't stop yourself from doing so when all you could see in him was yourself when you were that height.

The sun comes into light as the dim lanterns fade away. Like this, you can see his features once more as the stomping of soldiers return.

His eyes scan the area at the sound, but he keeps his hands open for the sweet treats. Smiling, you drop the candy into his open palms before he rushes off with a beaming boyish grin.

Stretching as you walk up the planks to the surface, you finally cross off the last item and drop it into the nearby trash can.

You try to ignore how it disappears when you turn the corner.

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

Time ticks down slowly, and you aren't looking forward to seeing Madam Ping just yet. Besides, you made a long-overdue promise to someone else beforehand.

Starting up at the somewhat hidden Funeral Parlor, you push the door open with a casual; “Hey, I'm here to meet up with the Director of this fine and totally not macabre establishment.”

The receptionist blinks at your sudden words before a cheery voice responds from behind her.

“You sure took your time, Y/N. I almost wondered if you up and died before I got a chance to have you purchase one of our very convenient and practical deals!”

Yet again, Hu Tao was right on the money about you being close to death. Idly, you wonder if you look half as dead as you feel.

The receptionist is more than happy to slip away as her boss bounds up to you with that elemental ghost hovering around her.

Flower pupils stare into your eyes, giving you a vague sense of unease as Hu Tao examines you from various angles.

“Yup, yup! Just as I suspected. You are in desperate need of escape, and it seems the only way you'll be getting it is in death. My honest suggestion is that you buy a coffin from us and lead a hedonist lifestyle to enjoy the few years you have left.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You dryly respond as she nods approvingly.

“A business needs to be honest for it to succeed in the long-term. Trust of the customers is one of the biggest key factors.”

Not willing to argue on a topic you were admittedly clueless on, you follow her deeper into the Parlor.

“Then you got any good deals for a traveling adventurer like me who could be dead halfway across the world?”

She sighs, exaggerating it to the utmost while circling you. “I thought deeply on the topic and while the Wangshsng Funeral Parlor has grown enough to reach all of Liyue and a good amount of Mondstadt and Sumeru, we still haven't grown enough to pair up with each region.”

Passing by multiple doors, your eyes scan for a clue on where she was leading you.

“But considering you're the most eager customer I've had concerning their own death, I decided to present you with a special deal.”

“Wouldn't suicidal people also be enthusiastic in this topic?”

“They're usually more focused on the moment and their own afterlife, instead of the corpse they leave behind. Besides-!”

Whipping around to look at you with a knowing grin, she lays a hand decorated in rings on the handle.

“You aren't that far from being called a suicidal person yourself, Y/N!”

Before you can question her on those words, she swings the door open to show multiple rows of various coffins.

“The special offer I'm giving you is to purchase a coffin and I will personally escort your wandering soul to the border for proper peace.”

Tearing your eyes from the admittedly impressive collection of varying caskets, you have the sense to ask her a question. “So, what's the point in me buying a coffin if my body ends up in the waters of Fontaine? And how could I even trust that you have the ability to escort souls?”

From what you remember, Hu Tao should have no clue about your oracle status, so logically you should act oblivious to her connection with the border. Would you even be able to cross the border? It’s not like you were born on Teyvat like her other customers.

Unless Zhongli told her, but that would require more of an explanation on his behalf that he wouldn't want to do.

“Very good question, dear customer!” She spins around to face you once more, her long twin tails swinging during the motion.

“Even if your body is irretrievable for whatever reason, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor will deem your casket full after I guide your soul.”

The atmosphere visibly shifts after she speaks. The room darkens as the lanterns flicker, her back lowers in a familiar position as a cold phantom touch caresses your hand.

“You of all people should know why and how I'm able to guide souls. After all, I wouldn't expect anything less from an Oracle of the Creator.”

A crooked grin makes its way to your face as goosebumps raise on your skin. Hu Tao’s ‘threatening’ words of knowing your identity were like the sweetest song to your ears.

Finally, all your hard work in creating connections and stabilizing your identity has paid off. Acolytes you've barely begun conversing with already see you as an Oracle.

“Should I applaud you or something, Director? Or should I just accept the deal and make us both happy?”

Hu Tao laughs at your words as you take confident strides to stand by her side.

“I would appreciate the second option much more!” Signature flower pupils drink your smiling visage in with delight before her hand grasps yours in a tight hold.

“Now, if you will, I'll introduce all these amazing coffin and casket types for you to ask about and choose between.”

There's no time to protest, not that you would as she pulls you along excitedly as butterflies made of Pyro brush against your cheek.

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

Somehow you and Hu Tao had managed to look at every single coffin type in existence. A style, color and even additional design to it has already been decided.

You're just left with choosing the best wood for it.

Hu Tao wanted to stay with you throughout the whole process, but an important matter came up again, making her complain loudly as she left.

But before she did, she insisted on sending one of her employees to help you in choosing, as ‘the wood is a vital part of the process!’.

So now you're left waiting in the absolutely quiet room, with only the sound of your own breathing accompanying you.

Looking down at the two coffins made of different wood, you waited for this employee. A small smirk played on your lips as you heard the door audibly click shut.

The thumping of shoes coming closer was silent, but the slight hitch of breath gave away how close your new consultant was.

“White cedar wood and Teck wood are both very fine choices. Though I would consider the Catalpa wood two rows down to be the best choices considering your position.”

Hot air fans your skin as the knowledgeable words spoken in that low timber light your nerves aflame.

Turning around, you look into amber eyes that remain steadfast on your face. His outfit is pristine and there's not a single evidence of the battle he was left to fight on him.

“If that answers your last question for the coffin customization, then would you mind stepping outside with me?”

Waving your hand, you dismiss his words without hesitation. “We can do so after I check out the Catalpa wood you recommended.”

Your head angles to the side to look at him with a teasing grin. “I know it's your retirement, but you of all people should know that rushing a job is never good.”

A long-suffering sigh leaves Zhongli as you walk away to the Catalpa coffin, before he follows you.

More than happy to kill time like this, you feel the wood under your fingertips in a smooth stripe.

“Catalpa wood was and is still often used as an outer coffin for the jade inner coffin that Liyue officials were buried in. Not only can it be carved fluidly, but it is also very resistant to decay, unlike other ornamental wood. Its stability is quite underrated, with only the drying to be a tad problematic. And even that will be for us to deal with.”

Vaguely you wonder if this information was inserted into the game based off China’s own history or if Teyvat really did age throughout many years to build its own history.

“That’s why I recommended this type of wood to you. While you’re not officially a member of the Qixing or other affairs, your position of oracle is enough to warrant such a valued coffin.”

“Are you trying to convince me to buy it for your job, or are you trying to flatter me for your proposal?”

“You may see it as both, neither, or one of the two. I'm simply here as the consultant. I am to assist you with all of your decision-making inside this building.”

A huff of laughter leaves you before you tap on the casket. “Then I'll go along with what you want and take this wood.”

Zhongli nods, not bothering to write it down as his memory must be far greater than you care to imagine.

His gloved hand is displayed to you in a silent question, but before you can move, he removes the glove.

Quizzically, you raise an eyebrow before placing your hand on his now bare one. Peering at his face from your place you note the slightest blush on his otherwise composed expression.

Smiling to yourself, you allow his fingers to intertwine with your own as he guides you out of the side door. Following him blindly up the staircase, past a set of rooms, another staircase till you finally arrive at the roof.

Zhongli squeezes your hand one last time, clearly relishing in the touch of your calloused fingertips before letting you go.

“I've waited patiently for you, Y/N. What is your answer to my marriage proposal?”

His eyes stare at yours with unshakable firmness. In a sense, it's endearing, and you make it clear by smiling widely.

“It's a no from me.” That resolute expression cracks and his mouth drops open before it's slammed shut at your bright laughter.

But even his poorly concealed embarrassed expression can't smother the blood rushing to his cheeks as his ears hang onto every addictive note that leaves your lips.

This has taken a long time. Like super long. I haven't dropped this series, just have lots of school work to complete and exams to study for. Like I literally have one tomorrow. My editor did me a solid and highlighted the parts that I had to fill in after I gave the mostly completed document for editing. When I have to write the next chapter, it'll take a bit as I gotta reread for recalibration. Taglist is open as always!

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yanderes-galore · 4 months

Note

So, I cannot stop thinking about this. Petlike yandere Red Death, but raised from an egg. Perhaps reader is a dragon rider, who was exploring the volcano post HTTYD1, since I can't imagine Red Deaths are anything but rare. Thank you very much!

Yeah, this was my take on baby Red Death! I apologize for weird formatting.

Yandere! Red Death raised by Viking! Darling

Pairing: Animal/Pet-like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Territorial behavior, Possessive behavior, Alpha dragon, Isolation, Violence, Generational yandere concept, Not entirely yandere/overprotective, I had thoughts with this, Forced companionship.

There was only one known appearance of a Red Death in the series.

It's said they live 2,000 years and lay 3,000 eggs before they die.

It's unknown if the last Red Death ever laid eggs, considering how we never see another Red Death, we can assume it didn't.

However, for the sake of this concept, let's say one egg manages to survive on Dragon Island.

As a dragon rider you had decided to do an expedition on Dragon Island and found the volcanic egg.

As an experiment you were probably instructed by Hiccup to carry the large egg to a secure location.

After all, not much is known about The Red Death.

This would be the perfect opportunity to research the new dragon type that's only been encountered once.

The egg is no doubt kept near a volcanic region but you are sent to oversee its development.

Being picked for such a task is no doubt exciting at first.

Something about this concept to note is the fact your Red Death won't be fully mature.

It may even take your full lifetime before your Red Death even hits what could be considered a teen.

The baby dragon will get big, sure, but not as big as its mother.

I imagine when you have it the size is only going to be about a medium size dragon.

So it will be rideable, but unable to reproduce or use its full abilities.

When you raise the dragon you are careful to note behavior and diet.

You feed your Red Death red meat and keep them in a hot area.

You have them visit volcanic areas for lava baths.

You are quick to note down everything you learn about the dragon while caring for them.

You even grow attached to them, while they attach themselves to you.

Admittedly it's hard to take notes when your Red Death, the size of maybe a large dog at the start, keeps nuzzling into you.

Red Death's can be a ruthless and controlling species, but a baby doesn't have the ability to control dragons yet.

They'd be demanding and needy, like little divas.

But they aren't capable of full control yet.

You are sure to report all your findings to Hiccup as you care for your Red Death.

While they are still small you simply watch and feed them while researching.

When they are a size where you can ride them you work on teaching them how to fly and carry you.

The dragon is certainly not agile, they're more tanky than anything.

Your Red Death is a brute due to their body type and personality.

Also, wouldn't it be problematic if they learned to control dragons once riding age.

Unbeknownst to you, your Red Death is a dragon that will be taken care of for generations.

You know how you have to put a tortoise or parrot in your will due to their lifespan?

Same thing would happen with you Red Death due to their ridiculous lifespan.

Imagine if they became yandere for your entire bloodline?

They just know your children and their children are related to you, so they defend them.

It may all be fun and games researching your Red Death now, but the truth is you're stuck with them.

They see you as their parent and treat you like family.

So while you can ride them now, soon they'll continue growing.

When you leave this world, they'll still be here.

They may even stumble their way to your grave and sit there.

I feel this Red Death is more caring due to being raised by a human.

Some Vikings are till wary about you as they know tales of the original Red Death.

Even more so when your dragon starts exhibiting alpha behavior.

Yup, you heard me, Red Deaths are similar to Bewilderbeasts since they both act like dragon leaders.

They can command dragons, hold territory, have a sense of authority... etc.

So you run into some problems when your dragon starts roaring to command smaller dragons and claims territory,

They're still affectionate towards you but are expressing dominating behavior.

They even summon smaller dragons to protect you.

Think of this, as you fly on them they usually have some sort of dragon flock around you both.

With their methane breath type they can cause flash fires in an instant.

Your Red Death may move you from your home when they start nesting.

You would be forced to live in a more volcanic area so your Red Death can nest in the crater.

Although, that sounds like a future generation problem.

Your kids/grandkids would have to deal with that.

I actually think the idea of a generational protective dragon is interesting.

Your kids and so on are simply told they have a draconic protector, your Red Death.

As a result, this dragon will defend them with their life.

A protective Red Death is no joke either.

They're capable of swallowing dragons whole when they hit a certain age, which is actually their main food source other than whole sheep and other creatures.

So you are stuck with this dragon right up until you die.

While your Red Death is behaved now, it's mostly because they are young.

They're overprotective and sometimes possessive, but not quite an uncontrolled problem yet.

You think it's cute.

Although other Vikings can see the issue before you can.

You have no idea what you've done, have you?

When they grow older, your kids will suffer the consequences of your actions.

Your Red Death loves you and wants to protect the family you build with them...

Even after death, your Red Death fulfills such a wish... at the cost of those around it.

#yandere how to train your dragon #yandere httyd #yandere dragon #overprotective dragon #yandere red death

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hairmetal666 · 9 months

Text

Steddie She's All That au????

Steve pulls up to the Munson's trailer, a secondhand acoustic across the backseat. Can't believe he's here; that he's actually doing this. He shouldn't. Absolutely should not; knows he let his still-simmering animosity with Billy Hargrove push him to this, to trying to date Eddie Munson, to proving that he's still popular enough to win prom king with the Freak on his arm.

Munson doesn't deserve it, is the thing. For all his weirdness, his off-putting behavior, Steve thinks he might be nice. Or kind, maybe? Steve's noticed how he gathers the freshman who have no one else, gives them understanding, a place to belong. And those kids, they remind him of Dustin, Will, Mike, Lucas, and he can't help but feel something warm towards the Freak, some kind of kinship.

He puts the car in reverse, can't go through with pretending to like this guy who did nothing wrong but be too much himself.

Before he gets his foot on the gas a head pokes out the front door.

"You came," Eddie shouts.

"Said I was." Steve surrenders to his fate and puts the car in park. Eddie watches him as he grabs the guitar case, hauls it up the stairs, only moving to step out of the way.

Steve's eyes scan the living room and kitchen, something in his chest loosening as he does. There are mugs and hats covering the walls, a worn sofa, clutter on every surface. It's home in a way Steve has never experienced. He loves it.

"Alright, let it out, Harrington. I'm poor, etc."

"No!" Steve startles; hadn't realized he'd been staring so obviously. "I like it."

Eddie makes a face, but offers him a beer and guides him to sit on the couch.

"How much do you know?" Eddie asks without preamble.

He strums a couple of notes, things he picked up at summer camp ages ago. Munson nods. "Better than I expected."

Eddie runs through notes and chords, helps Steve get his fingering right. He's patient, almost kind, and he laughs softly as he gently corrects Steve's mistakes.

And Steve's fingers, they won't behave, keep slipping off the strings. Eddie arranges himself to drape around his shoulders, fits their hands together. He's warm, fingers long and callused, his rings slightly colder than Steve's skin.

"Like this, Harrington." And he and Steve strum in tandem, and Steve is caught by the light glinting in his curls, the softness of his dark brown eyes, the fullness of his pink lips. He wonders how soft they are, what they taste like, if Eddie would cling to him or take control.

"You with me, Steve?" Eddie asks, shocking him back to the present.

"Yeah, yes, right here. Sorry." He throws himself into learning, but can't stop stealing little looks at the man teaching him.

And Steve, he knows it's not a bet anymore. He'll tell Hagan and Hargrove he's out, take whatever shit they give him, and Eddie never has to know.

---

A month in, Steve walks into the trailer and sees those little figurines, like the kids have for their game, scattered on the coffee table; sheets of paper with scrawled writing and doodles lining the floor; one of those weird manual things that Dustin always lugs around sitting open on the couch.

"Fuck, Stevie, I'm sorry. Lost track of time." Eddie's face turns pink as he gathers the looseleaf and slams the book closed.

"You play that dragon game?" He asks. He picks up one of the figures, studies the meticulous paint. It does something weird to his heart.

"What did you think Hellfire--Wait." Eddie pauses. "Why do you--Steve Harrington--know about dnd?"

"The kids I babysit play."

Eddie stares at him openmouthed. "Shit, sweetheart. You've been holding out on me. You ever join them?"

"Nah. To tell you the truth, they're pretty intimidating about it."

Eddie laughs, drawing Steve's eyes to his slender neck. "You scared of children, Stevie?"

"You haven't met them, man. They're terrifying."

"You know," Eddie's eyelashes flicker. "I run a campaign with Hellfire after school every Friday. You could--if you wanted--you could come. You're probably busy, I know, but if you find some free time and you wan--

"Eddie!" Steve laughs. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Really?"

"Promise."

---

He shows up that first Friday to some mixed reactions from most of the Hellfire members, and Eddie's shy, pleased smile. They make eye contact and Steve's stomach swoops.

"You came," Eddie says when they get a second alone.

"I told you I would." Steve laughs.

"C'mon, you're going to tell me this isn't a hopelessly lame way for King Steve to spend a Friday night?"

"Maybe." Steve nudges Eddie's chest. "And maybe I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Steve watches them play and is transfixed. He's never seen Eddie totally in his element. His voice goes deep and rumbly, doing accents, shouting, jumping around, banging on the table. Steve can't pull his eyes away, doesn't want to, can't stop smiling.

"What'd you think?" Eddie asks when the session is over and they're alone. His hands shuffle through his notebook, eyes fixed firmly on the table.

Steve grabs his wrists, soft, careful. "Amazing, Eddie," he says. "You were amazing."

"Really?" Eddie's throat bobs. He finally looks up, meets Steve's eyes.

"Never seen anything like you." His eyes drift to Eddie's mouth. The space between them shrinks.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?" his voice waivers.

"Can I kiss you?"

He thinks Eddie might pull away, freeze up, but instead his eyelashes flutter, his lips shaping into a gentle smile. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Steve laughs, slips his fingers through Eddie's hair, closes the distance between them. It starts sweet and soft, until Eddie's tongue brushes his bottom lip and Steve opens for him, lets him take control, as easy as anything. For the first time, he lets someone else lead, sinks into it, into Eddie. It's perfect.

---

Prom court nominations come out with Steve number one on the ballot for king. The other nominees are Billy, Tommy, and some weirdo religious zealot junior Steve barely knows, Jason Carver.

He doesn't think much of it, having slipped so easily into a version of himself that sits at the Hellfire table at lunch, spends evenings at the Munson trailer and nights in Eddie's bed. Sure, he catches Hargrove glaring at him throughout the day, but pays it no mind. Billy Hargrove's always pissed about something, anyway.

So, he's unprepared when Hargrove and Hagan corner him that afternoon as he's waiting for Eddie to finish up a deal. There's a kick in his stomach, a swirl of nausea, at their presence. He didn't ever tell Eddie about the bet, figured it didn't matter since they were together, since they both started falling.

"Think you're hot shit, Harrington?" Hargrove asks. Hagan laughs like he's never heard a real joke before.

"I'm out," he says in way of answer. "Bet's over."

"Stevie-Boy, I don't think you understand," Hagan says.

"Nah, I'm not doing it." Worry prickles at his scalp. Eddie will be done soon, and he needs Billy and Tommy gone.

Hargrove pinches Steve's chin in his grip. "We made a bet, and you're seeing it through."

"Hey, hey, hey," the last voice Steve wants to hear right now shouts. "What the fuck is going on here? Get the fuck off him, Hargrove."

Billy's wrenched away, but he's laughing, and Steve is frozen at the train wreck unfolding in front of him.

"Harrington tell you about the bet?" Billy asks.

"Bet?" Eddie's nose wrinkles in the cute way Steve loves and he's terrified of what comes next.

"Uh-huh. Hagan and I bet Harrington here that he couldn't date the biggest dud in school and still wind up prom king. Little did we know, I guess."

Steve watches as the words hit Eddie, as he processes them, as his face falls. His gut twists as he watches his boyfriend go tense.

"What?" Eddie's eyes widen with panic.

Tommy's face contorts into a cruel smile."You didn't think Harrington was actually into you, did you?"

Eddie doesn't respond, won't look at any of them, draws into himself.

Hargrove snickers. "That's what I thought. Have a good night." He gives them a pageant queen wave as he walks away.

Steve's crosses to Eddie as soon as the other two are gone, but Eddie flinches, stopping him in his tracks.

"Was I bet, Steve?" He asks. His voice cracks.

"It wasn't like that, Ed, I swear. I swear." He grabs Eddie's shoulders, and again, he's pushed away.

"You didn't answer the question."

"It was real for me," Steve babbles. "It was all real for me. I promise."

"Answer me!" Tears limn his eyes. "Was I a bet?"

"It wasn't like--"

"Was I a fucking bet?" He yells and Steve can't take it. Can't take the hurt all over Eddie's face, the betrayal. Wants to erase it, to make everything okay, to get back to where they were last night, wrapped in Eddie's bedsheets, giggling.

"It started as a bet, okay? It did. I messed up by not telling you. I know I did. But I like you so much. I--I--" Steve loves him. He knows without any doubt, but he can't say it not now, not for this.

"Fuck you, Harrington," Eddie says. His voice is even but his face is a wreck.

"Please, Eddie." Steve begs. "Please. Give me a chance to explain. You're everything."

Eddie doesn't respond. He climbs into his van, drives away without a second glance.

---

He tries to apologize.

He tries to apologize, but Eddie isn't at school, not at first, and the death glare he gets from the Hellfire guys lets him know he's no longer welcome. When Eddie does come back he won't so much as look at Steve.

He goes to the trailer park where Wayne--Wayne who he watched sports with, Wayne who liked him--stands on the steps and says, "I don't think you have any business here anymore, kid. Not if you know what's good for you." And Steve nods and goes home and cries.

---

Steve stands on the stairs of the Munson trailer in his tux with a bouquet of flowers that are so purple they're almost black and a self-recorded tape in his hands. Prom is tonight but he has no interest in going to the dance that started all this bullshit.

Music pounds from inside; Judas Priest, he thinks. Eddie's van is in the driveway and Wayne's car is not.

The music quiets at his knock, and his heart pounds in the silence. Eddie frowns when he opens the door, but it morphs into something infinitely sadder when he sees Steve.

"Aren't you supposed to be at a dance?" Eddie asks.

"No, I--I didn't want to go. I wanted to say--Eddie, I'm sorry. I should've told you the truth from the beginning. I was afraid of losing you, and you learned the truth in the worst possible way."

Eddie doesn't speak or move, so Steve barrels on.

"I--uh--I ordered these for you. Before we broke up. And I just thought--you should still have them. That you would like them."

Eddie takes the flowers like he's in a daze.

"And uh, this too," Steve places the cassette in Eddie's hand. "It's um, stupid, probably? But I miss you and I'm sorry and just--take it."

---

Steve's been at the quarry for two hours, staring up at the stars from the hood of his car. He should go, probably. Eddie clearly isn't going to show. But he can't make himself. If he stays here, looking at the sky, losing Eddie won't be real.

He's dozing off, almost asleep, when the shine of headlights has him blinking alert. A familiar van trundles to a stop next to him, and Eddie climbs out. He's wearing a snug black button-down with a deep purple rose pinned to his chest, tight black jeans, and shining black boots.

"You came." Steve scrambles off his car, graceless in his relief, his gratitude.

Eddie nods. "Wasn't sure if I should but--" he shrugs.

"I'm glad you did. Thank you. I--" he swallows. "Eddie, I'm so sorry. I'll do anything, anything if it means you'll forgive me."

"Anything?" Eddie's mouth turns up at the corner.

Steve nods, firm. "I promise."

"You learned 'Rainbow in the Dark' for me."

"I did."

"That's a really hard song." Eddie smiles but tears track down his cheeks.

Steve laughs. "It's so hard."

Somehow, without Steve noticing, their fingers are entwined. Eddie lifts their joined hands, studying them. "Oh, baby, your calluses."

"Yeah." Steve blushes. "It was important I got it right."

Eddie's mouth drops as he stares, studying Steve's eyes.

"I know it took you a lot to trust me," Steve says. "And I know I broke that, but please, please try to believe me when I say that it was real for me. From the beginning. It was all real."

Eddie clears his throat. "When did you know?"

Steve's smile is soft. "That first guitar lesson. You arranged my fingers and you just--you were so beautiful."

"Oh," Eddie breathes.

"I was an idiot, Ed. I fell in love with you, and thought I could back out of the bet, that you never had to know. I never meant to hurt you."

"Wait...love me?"

Steve freezes. He hadn't meant to say that, not yet, not when things are so tenuous. "Yeah. I--yeah, I love you, Eddie."

"That's funny, sweetheart. Cause I love you too, and four hours ago I thought falling for you was the worst mistake I've ever made."

Steve's smile matches Eddie's now. "Dance with me?" he asks.

There's no music; just the whirr of early spring insects, the rustle of leaves, but Eddie still smirks, and pulls Steve close. They sway against each other, beaming, glowing, brighter than the stars.

"You're missing your prom, Stevie," Eddie says.

"Nah. I'm not missing anything. I have you."

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daenysx · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can you do modern! aemond x fem reader, where the reader and aemond just fuck but have no relationship, then reader finds she is pregnant with aemond's baby and start to run from him because he is a targaryen an she knows how bad unlegitime children are for the targaryens, aemond's older sister and her children are a very clear example. (Targaryens are very important people, like CEOs of big companies and they are also in politics)

Love your writing 💗

thank you for this request and your beautiful words, i hope you like it. requests are open!!

my masterlist

STRINGS ATTACHED

part 1 - pretending

telling modern!aemond you are pregnant but you are not in a relationship.

his bedroom. it's always his bedroom. you are in his bed, naked, your legs wrapped around his waist. he is on top of you, moving his cock inside you with a beautifully painful rhytm. his head is buried to your neck, kissing and bruising the sensitive spots. his breath is hot, as always. he is never cold. blood of the dragon they say.

when he feels that you are close he keeps moving the way he knows you like.

"i know you're close. come for me."

you arch your back to him, relaxing your muscles. he keeps thrusting and finally comes inside you. breathing sounds fill his room. he lays next to you, covers your naked body with a sheet.

it has been like this for almost 7 months, every thursday night. it's just sex. aemond is not your friend, and he certainly is not your lover. this is just an arrangement. at least that's what you always remind yourself.

if there is a chance, you can easily fall in love with a guy like aemond targaryen. he is perfect. perfect for you, satisfies you the way no one can. sometimes you can see it in his face that he cares about you. still, there is no relationship.

"would you like to stay here tonight?"

staying here tonight is dangerous in an arrangement like this. it can lead to feelings which is something you don't want.

still, it is so beautiful right now, to sleep in a warm bed, wrapped around his muscular body. you are minutes away from sleeping you can feel that.

"do you want me to stay?"

"i wouldn't ask you if i don't want you to stay, sweet girl."

and then there is this fucking endearment words. you love them. you love him calling you those words. they don't help with your feelings. you can't stop yourself imagining being his lover and hearing those words from his mouth. fuck.

"alright then. i'll stay."

maybe it's a bad decision. but aemond does not want to sleep alone tonight. he likes the way your side of the bed being warm, sheets around your waist. he likes the way you smell in his bed. he likes you being in his bed, like you two are in an actual relationship.

in the morning, it will be back to normal, but right now both of you use this opportunity to pretend. it's lovely to pretend.

°°°

next wednesday, you don't want to leave your bed. you feel like you will throw up anytime you get out of the bed. you think of food poisoning first, and then a possibility which is worse. you think of that drunk night with aemond which was almost a month ago. what if i am pregnant?

maybe it's crazy to jump into conclusions like this but you can't help it. you feel a sudden rush, going out of the bed not caring about your stomach. you buy a couple of pregnancy tests and go back your apartment.

they are positive. all of them. you are pregnant with aemond targaryen's baby. there hasn't been anyone else other than him, if you are pregnant he is the father.

all possible outcomes pass through your brain. he probably doesn't want to be a father at his young age, and you are not his wife so his family will not approve that. they probably will not approve you even if he wants to marry you. your child will be a bastard in their eyes. you think of all the rumors about his older sister and her children. this will not be good.

but maybe, maybe you can raise this child on your own. aemond doesn't have to participate. all you have to do is to back off from your sex arrangement. it's cruel to keep his child away from him but at least his family, the great owners of the targaryen corp. will be away from this.

you text him.

"i'm sorry but i can't do this anymore."

a little dramatic but still clear. he should understand this. if he wants a person just for sex he can find someone else.

there is no text or call from aemond. instead there is a person knocking on your door in the middle of the night.

"aemond, what are you doing here at this hour?"

"sorry love, i thought it would be best if i come at midnight, since midnights are ours, remember?"

"not anymore. i'm sorry."

"you are sorry, that you told this to me with a simple text or that you do not want to be a part of this arrangement anymore?"

he looks angry. he is quick when he speaks, looking for answers. it's clear that he needs logical reasons to understand.

"i can't do this aemond. not because i don't want to but because i can't."

he still doesn't see anything. doesn't understand why you leave him.

"i'm sorry, if you are trying to drive me crazy, you will accomplish that. why? it's all i'm asking, why?!"

his voice echoes in your ears.

"is there someone else? did you fall for someone else and leaving me because of them?"

his voice is full of pain.

"no, for the love of god. i didn't fall for someone else, why would you think that?"

"then why are you leaving me?"

"because i'm pregnant!"

this time it's your voice full of pain and you feel tears on your face.

"you are- you are pregnant?"

now he knows. that's not how you planned but it was a stupid plan anyway.

"yes, i'm pregnant and it's your baby but you don't have to participate, i know your family will not approve this."

he looks shocked. he doesn't care about his family, why would he? everyone in his family are sinners in their own way. he didn't do anything wrong until this day. still, this is nothing wrong. he doesn't seek their approvements anyway. he only cares about you and the baby.

he comes closer to you, holds your face in his hands, his thumbs are on your tears, drying them.

"you are with my child, hmm? my beautiful girl."

you can't believe his words.

"aemond, we are not in a relationship, how can you react like this? i'm talking about your family!"

"we will not care about my family or anyone else. i don't give a shit about anyone who is not you."

this is too much. literally.

"tell me, what do you feel for me, my sweet girl? did you really want me for sex or did you feel the bond we have when we were just sleeping in my bed? did you ever feel my love for you?"

you blink in suprise.

"are you telling me that you love me?"

"i'm telling you that i'm fucking in love with you. and this baby isn't a mistake."

so, he loves you back. maybe you are dreaming but his hands on your belly don't feel like a dream. you can finally accept your feelings for him.

"i'm in love with you, aemond. i don't know for how long, i just tried to ignore feelings since it was just sex."

"but it wasn't just sex, was it? and now we will have a baby."

"are you sure there won't be any problem? do you really want this baby?"

he chuckles lightly. he has sparkles in his eyes.

"i want this baby with you. i will do anything for your happiness my love. anything for you and our baby. you have nothing to worry about."

but there is something else.

"will our baby be illegimate? i know it's bad for your reputation and it certainly is not good for mine."

"no, darling. our baby will not be illegimate, i won't let it happen. but i would like to propose my future wife with a better organization don't you think?"

he is amused. and you love him. he holds you in his arms, safe and secured. you will be happy with him. you will make up for all the time you lost with him. everything will be okay.

(part 2)

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #modern!aemond #house of the dragon #aemond one eye

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luimagines · 5 months

Note

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

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blingblong55 · 5 months

Text

All too well- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: this is some of me in writing and why I believe romance is not for me, not now at least...so enjoy :) --- F!Reader, angst? fluff?, toxic!Ghost, age gap, older boyfriend!Ghost ----

A/N: I know Ghost wouldn't be this kind of man if he was real but I have to break my heart with him...sorry

He is older than you, years ahead of you and has more experience than you do so when you broke up with him, it was hard to let go. You at the time were 20, he was 37. People always judged and of course, you thought it was because they were jealous not because they were seriously concerned. Still, in Uni, he wanted you to make him your priority. You always said no and for some reason, he would get mad about this. At first, he was the nice guy, he was perfect and it all made you more sure that maybe there was a future with him. Your free time was spent with him because somehow, he convinced you to give all your time to him.

This all gets noticed by all your friends. Your phone, passwords and even social accounts get monitored and checked by him. It wasn't all romance anymore. It became a reward system, you gave him your free time? Maybe he would be romantic. You let him control your friendships? Maybe he would tell you more about his weekends. Soon enough, you noticed it. Simon became the villain and for good reasons. He played the perfect part all too well, but only to those questioning stares and in those moments, it was perfection.

When the stares looked away, he was the same Simon that had your heart trapped at the top of the castle. His anger and manipulative tactics become the dragon. Everywhere you went, his shadows lurked for you. When he said he wanted you to think of him every second of your waking life, he meant it. Will he approve of me talking to them? Your mind always asked that, even if the guy was just a friend, a literal friend and nothing more, Simon crept into your head.

His childhood memories, being told to you, maybe it was for sympathy or maybe it was to make you think he wasn't the cold-hearted man who made you cry on Valentine's Day. "Simon! Do you not understand how rude and mean that was?!" Your heart was stabbed by his actions on that day. "R/N, you are being dramatic!" A gift that you went out of your way for in the hands of a woman who is supposed to be a best friend of yours. Two people were lied to this day, you and the naive of your best friend. "I did it, it was for you! when I made it, my mind went to you! Gosh Simon, why can't you see how rude this was!" He walks to you, hands gripping your body. "You are acting like a goddamn child R/N!" He shook you, thinking it would make you understand better. "I'm not the one dating someone young now am I?" The anger that left your mouth, oh that sent him over the edge. "Don't you fucking dare!" he said through gritted teeth. "I'm still growing, you are a grown man who doesn't even think for a moment that your fucking girlfriend did something for you! I did that and that fucking girl thinks you did it for her!" You push him and he gives you that stare. The same one your father gave you when he was made and was ready to yell and punch walls.

Three weeks later, that is how long it took you to do it. "I'm being serious Simon, it's over." Your voice is cold and he scoffs with a low chuckle. "Aren't you too young to make the decisions here, doll?" That voice, how he gave you a condescending tone and how he approached you. "I think I'm more mature than you to know this is wrong. Me loving you is wrong and it's dead...this is over." He shakes his head and walks away furious. For weeks he called you, maybe to haunt you but every time you answered, it was the same old thing. Random numbers during class, lunch or at night called you. When they stopped, you sighed and for the first time, you smiled, a genuine one.

The day you broke up with him was still fresh on your mind. He was a strong man, that is no doubt, so if he wanted to, he could harm you so easily. Your friend theorised that he could make you disappear, all to keep the pretty little young lover near. It is true what they say, there will always be a reason men like him stay alone for long. There's a reason why they date younger ones and not women who know best. Sometime later, that best friend approaches you, unaware of what happened between you and Simon.

"He told me what happened." But he told her lies, told her that it was you that was the problem. After she gave you his truth, you gave her the real truth. "So...the...gift, it wasn't really from him-" "No, and I'm not asking for anything back, not at all. Just, be careful, he...he isn't the man he says he is and please...please for your own sake stay away." That same day, you found out he asked me to meet up. I thought he meant as friends, since well I thought I was his friend." She wouldn't do it, you thought. "And at first I was okay with it until he kept asking over and over. I felt weird about it because it didn't seem like it would be a friendly meet-up, I said no, out of respect for you." You hugged her. "I know he was asking to hook up but I can't do that, not to my best friend." she hugged back and you two soon talked more.

Simon, oh that man was a mess. He soon engaged when your young heart was still grieving him behind doors. His fiance tagged people you knew, those people, some, told you he moved on. This was a game plan. Tell the young lover what was lost and maybe, they'll come running to you. It hurt but it didn't work. You noticed how happy he was. How much more he changed and in your head, you asked why he couldn't change for you. You look at the lovers that pass by, how the guy treats his girl and for a moment, you wish that was you.

Memories come every night.

Winter. No one knew how your heart felt for him but he did. His body is close to yours as he wraps you with the blanket, he kisses your shoulder and smiles. The art of making love was something he was an expert in.

Summer. He takes you on midnight rides. Holds your hand and sings along with you. Your hair is in the wind as his lips meet your hand. Simon, the man who taught you so much now making you cry on the way home.

Autumn. Your dad heard your cries as Simon explained to you why he wouldn't go to you. A woman moans on his side of the phone, "it was the movie," he explains so easily.

Spring. Filled with arguments, tears and sex. Manipulation works its way to your body. "Fuck you!" You cry as he yet again reminds you that you are young and stupid. He degrades you this way. Reminds you that he has the upper hand for being older than you.

You later learn he had another girl while being with you. His free time is shared between you and some other girl. Your bed is drenched in tears of regret and sorrow. The headphones blasted the words your heart cried for.

For moments, he was liberty, fun, happiness and love. Now, when you look back at it, Simon Riley was the man who lived as the dragon of the castle, the one you had to fight off to regain your heart. You hated him for what he was. Your heart, body and soul kept him like a sword oath. The same one that had you overthinking. Did you ask for too much? Were you even a good girlfriend?

Get out of my head, you cry. "If we had been closer in age, maybe you would understand what I wanted." He texts you some random day. That night, your friends held you as you cried in some bar. The last time you saw him was on your twenty-first birthday. Your mum asked for something from the store, so as you walk down the busy streets, your eyes catch a glimpse of him. His gaze catches yours. It was then you learned that this would be the last time you cry over him. He is dead to you, something to be proud of.

It was then he learned you were the only good thing he had. His ex-fiance out of his life, just like you but unlike her, you were good.

"Simon!" Your laughter fills the lounge room. "I told you, doll, this is what you get for that tickle," Simon's deep laugh belonged to yours. It's a melody. The fireplace, the laughs, the kiss after and how you both panted from an intense tickle fight. It was rare but beautiful. You cup his face, "I love you," you whisper and he grins. "oooh I knew it!" he picks you up again and you laugh.

This is the end of the warm time

As you walk past the park, you think of the old times. It is bittersweet. The way things ended, the way he loved you, kissed you, it was good until it wasn't. Simon Riley is a man on many faces, one you know all too well.

Love, what a miserable thing to be a part of when you had him.

A/N: so....there's that...

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chromations · 2 months

Text

The one story that scares me the most away from substance use is Jimmy Page. It's not an easy topic to go by, yet I'm still hesitant to post this.

Finding out the pure severity of Jimmy's health between '75-'83, mainly talking about 1977. This whole topic makes me so sad, but I always keep looking.

More under cut, it's a long post unpacking that year. Feel free to add.

We all know he did heroin, starting in 1975, and that he's always been skinny and underweight. But it started amping up in '76, taking more with a noticeable weight loss.

That man was practically on the brink of death from 1977. Between constant shows, rarely eating save for a liquid diet, rarely sleeping, and his addictions... it's scary. He had a weight goal that'd been just about reached: between 125-130 Ibs at 5'11½". (And while an inaccurate measurement of health for those heavier, this falls into 17 on the BMI chart: severely underweight) He dropped a few waist sizes (men's 29 in '75, down to men's 26) and had refused to talk to Peter Clifton after he'd included wide shots of Jimmy in TSRTS and a single roll of his stomach, as it made his ass "too wide." The black dragon pants didn't fit anymore, and fell off during a show. You can see him in the black dragon suit plus a belt during the Oakland photos. Note that these pants had completely fit him without need of a belt two years prior. He ended up at around a men's 26 waist. He'd stopped eating completely for a few days in a row during some tours.

Safe to say, Jimmy was extremely weight conscious. I think he met the criteria for an eating disorder diagnosis, as well.

There's accounts of him having stage fright and anxiety. He'd show up to '77 tour shows completely exhausted, nodding off constantly. Peter Grant had ended up slapping him awake and giving him coke just so he wouldn't pass out.

Then, there's the Chicago '77 show. Jimmy, sick on stage. His eyes are bloodshot, he's had nothing but orange juice in the past 60 hours, along with no sleep in that time frame. Sick from smack and coke, along with all of the previous factors of being an anxious wreck. It's a wonder he got through the first 7 songs before having to sit down during Ten Years Gone, calling for a 5 minute break, and then canceling the show. He couldn't go on that night, just nearly crumpling to sit. This is the story that scared me the most.

Linked below, the show is recorded up until Robert announces the show is canceled.

https://youtu.be/YVCiBd1oodU?feature=shared

I remember reading this account from Dave Northover (Jones' personal assistant):

This is what shattered my heart, initially reading it. How harshly drugs shattered Jimmy's brain, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. There's also a quote from Jimmy in an interview from the year: "I'm not into solid foods very much. I can't remember when I last had a steak. A few tours ago. It's just that you don't want too much in your stomach when you're playing. And there are some places you can't eat after you come back from the gig." He then notes that the banana daiquiris that he'd been consuming all the time are the answer to any problems, "having that every day and nothing to eat at all."

Additionally, In that interview, Jimmy says that earlier on in Zeppelin, Jimmy "had really been eating" and that he'd tried on the clothes from when he was in school, only for it to be very loose. It worries me more to remember that Jimmy stopped school at the age of 16 and had always been underweight. High metabolism, illness prone, and bouts of glandular fever during his time with The Crusaders (still was a teenager), not improved one bit by his undereating.

It's hurtful to hear how, more often than not, the media will praise a celebrity for their skinny figure, even if they're extremely unhealthy with it. Jimmy Page is no exception, as people praised him for his figure during his age.

Heroin is no joke, and I wouldn't wish the addiction it so easily presents to anyone. Withdrawals and smack sickness is scary to even witness, completely altering the person it grips. People often note how jimmy was an asshole, especially in the late 70s, but when dealing with a heroin addiction, with what is basically an eating disorder, high anxiety, with the goal of living your music, the goal of pleasing the crowd, getting the job done, and most of all, surviving, the way you act isn't at the front of your mind. I'm sure Page was aware he was an asshole, but with what he was dealing with, it's not important. Instant gratification, reward, matters more. Not dying matters more. Getting the next hit matters more. His image mattered more.

No matter how much of an asshole he was, and some of the reprehensible things he'd committed earlier on, I wouldn't wish this upon anyone. You see the light leave his eyes as the years went on, you know that while he recovered, those were the darkest years of his life that we know, and there's a reason he'd rarely talk about it: Who would want to?

I've heard multiple people say that if we hadn't lost Bonham in '80, then within those few years, we would've lost Page. It's a wonder he was able to still go on in the early 80s.

Even comparing photos of him in 73, 75, and 77, you go from a "safer" underweight, to his ribs completely visible.

I'm glad we still have him around. This whole topic is not easy to go by, and while most anti drug campaigns don't sway me much, it's the slow / fast decent into all of this that gives me such a strong reaction.

I don't appreciate seeing the way it's so casually joked about amongst the online zeppelin areas. People do take it seriously, but there's always the insensitive ones.

(Adding on, since I accidentally posted this as a draft)

Many people blame page for the effects of his addiction: Sloppy guitar playing, distancing from the rest of the band, assholery behavior.

You can't fault an addict for falling addicted. You can fault them for starting it, maybe, and you can criticize them for all you want. Still, a heroin addiction isn't just as cigarettes. It's the easiest to fall addicted to, and one of the hardest to quit, especially when a physical dependency is grown. Withdrawal symptoms could start early, and extreme too. Most heroin addicts trying to quit will relapse within the first day or two, it's not easy as that.

Considering how unhelpful the help was at the time, quitting cold turkey at these points would probably worsen his condition for a while, considering how rail thin Jimmy had been. The people around him grew worried, grew mad, and I find myself wondering how he could still pick up the guitar and rail out the LA Forum 1977 show, producing banger shows through 77, yet the shoddiest shows as well.

There could be little done about treatment of eating disorders as well, due to medical knowledge and stigma around it. I'll sympathize with this part, having the experience of one: ED recovery on your own is rough. I don't know how jimmy got out of heroin and an ED, and I don't think the process of that should become business unless necessary.

If you find yourself falling into these vices, seek help. Nothing about this is normal: not the lifestyle, nor the pressures.

Jimmy's case will always haunt me. I'd wish this upon no one.

#tw drugs #jimmy page #led zeppelin #tw disordered eating

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mcflymemes · 6 months

Text

AS SAID BY CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

the truth is more important than my reputation, and anyone willing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try.

i cannot stop thinking of our earlier discussion.

you enjoy making things complicated, don't you?

you can't be serious.

i simply wanted to steal a moment, while i still can.

i will not let him take you from me.

i want a man who sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. i want the ideal.

pretend you don't know this about me.

the flirting. with me. i've... noticed it. unless it is my imagination, which is entirely possible.

i'm thinking less flattering things now.

perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.

what makes you think i would welcome your pity?

you so rarely call me by my name, [name]. why is that?

you were together for a long time?

i enjoy fighting at your side, [name].

you're not as handsome as you think.

romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. it is passion. it is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. what is not to like about that?

i was hoping we could speak privately.

you're smiling a great deal these days. do you always do it while staring dreamily into the distance?

such fascinations reveal far more about the teller than the truth.

i did not realize it took so little to exceed your expectations.

i do not trust any event where hitting someone isn't an option.

me? in a dress? it's ludicrous!

what would i have to blush about?

i take it you think i'm frightening?

if you had done that in our last sparring match, you might have won.

were you not suggesting earlier i should be more intimidating?

how is manipulating and bullying people supposed to be enjoyable?

i don't wear "underpants."

if you are going to pursue this, make it worth it. be happy.

i've never considered what i must look like to someone common. i must indeed seem terrifying.

i wasn't very interested to begin with.

you will never let that go, will you?

i do not "rough people up."

do not pretend to be an innocent bystander.

are you eager to see me go?

what we had was fleeting.

this... is not a discussion i want to have here.

not all my feelings involve stabbing.

i am not without my sympathy, especially given recent events.

i thought you might be concerned.

i suppose that is all we will ever know.

thank you, [name]. that... does make me feel better.

i assume you have advice?

when it is done, i promise what you have done here will not be forgotten.

i thought you would be pleased.

no one has ever accused me of reinforcing reality before.

i should not have asked.

you have seen so much sadness in your journeys.

your opinion of me must be very low to surprise you so often.

i know myself and i cannot be the leader we need. thus, i have no regrets.

the world hinges on our actions. we face death at every turn.

it was an accident. well... mostly an accident.

we must pray it never comes to that.

what made you change your mind?

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2: Don't Know What You've Got Till it's Gone

Collaboration with the Dustin to my Suzie, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie are getting closer, and his friends can't help but notice something between you two. But when you receive devastating news, the pressure of being his upbeat, optimistic Sunshine becomes too much to handle.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, description of Eddie's scars, controlled use of pain medication, angst

WC: 6.6k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“Yeah, well, next time I tell you not to be a hero, you’d better listen to me.” A man’s voice stirs you from your sleep. You gently roll over onto your side and see fuzzy shadows behind the curtain that separates you and Eddie.

“Hold on, Harrington,” Eddie pushes himself up slightly, an edge to his voice. “What do you mean by next time?”

“He’s still out there,” a younger voice pipes up. “We wounded him, but—” He stops abruptly, turning his stocky frame towards the curtain. “Hey, can your roommate hear us?”

“She can!” you chirp, and utterances of shit and shut up fill the room. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone about your nerdy D&D secrets.” Eddie had spent the better part of the last few days explaining the ins and outs of the game, taking far too much pride in his Dungeon Master status for a man pushing 20.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Eddie calls out. “You decent? Want you to meet my friends.”

“Sorry, did we wake you?” A girl asks, but your view of her is obstructed by the curtain. “We have a tendency to be a little…”

“Loud?” The older of the guys offers. “Obnoxious? Grating?”

The boy shrugs. “That’s just the way we roll, man.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’” The first guy retorts.

“I’m all good, Eddie,” you say. Now that you’ve given the all clear, the older boy tugs back the curtain. You recognize him as Steve Harrington, who graduated with you last year.

“Steve,” he says, sticking out his hand for you to shake. “And, FYI, I do not play Dungeons & Dragons.”

You can’t help but let out a snort of laughter as you shake his hand and introduce yourself. “A shame. Eddie makes it seem like such fun.” At your sarcastic tone, Eddie flips you off, but you ignore him and continue. “We, uh, actually graduated together.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, eyebrows shooting up so high they almost blend into his perfectly coiffed hair. “Huh. You think I’d remember that.”

“I mean, it’s understandable you’d forget,” you say with a shrug. “You had just lost the last basketball game of the season.”

“Ouch,” Steve says, holding a hand over his heart. “But that doesn’t excuse the four years we were in the same class.”

Wincing, you give Steve another shrug. “More like seven. We went to middle school together, too.”

“Well, shit,” Steve says, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, I was a douchebag.”

“Was?” a feminine voice chimes in. Steve rolls his eyes and turns to the side to reveal the younger guy and a girl your age that are sitting next to Eddie’s bed.

“Robin, right?” you ask. She perks up in her seat, seeming pleasantly surprised that you know her name.

“Yeah,” she says.

“You’re in band, right? I’m friends with Vickie, and I know she’s mentioned you a few times,” you explain.

“R-Really?” Robin asks, eyes widening.

“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation, watching an unmistakable grin grow from cheek to cheek. You’ll have to follow up on that another time if you have a moment alone with her. “And you are…?” you start, turning towards the curly haired boy hoisting himself up on crutches, braces adorning his teeth.

“Dustin Henderson,” he affirms. “Artificer: Master Inventor and future Hawkins High valedictorian.” You shake his hand, giggling as the three older friends roll their eyes in unison at his introduction.

“Don’t forget ladies’ man,” Robin taunts, and Dustin hoists up two middle fingers in response, fumbling to keep the crutches secured under his arms.

“Sunshine here is a ballet dancer,” Eddie says, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of love. You watch as Steve and Robin exchange an amused glance, with the former mouthing Sunshine and the latter just shrugging. “She does, um, pointe?” He looks at you hopefully.

You nod. “Yup! I’ll be right back at it as soon as this bad boy heals up.” You gently pat your leg, grimacing as even the lightest touch sends sharp pains down to your toes.

You talk with the group for a few more minutes, swapping gossip about people from your graduating class, until Mandy knocks on the door. “It’s time for your appointment with the surgeon,” she says politely.

“Surgeon?” Eddie asks, brows crinkling in confusion.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, leaning on the nurse as you maneuver into the wheelchair. “Just, um, protocol with this kind of injury. Make sure everything’s good and all that.” He seems to buy this answer, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. “It was nice talking with you all!”

Once you’re out of the room, Dustin turns to Eddie. “So,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Sunshine?”

“Shut up, Henderson,” Eddie grumbles, throwing a pillow at the boy.

“Yeah, be nice to him,” Robin teases. “That nurse just took his sunshine away!”

“So, are you involved with this sunshine?” Steve asks, an amused expression written all across his face.

“No, not like that,” Eddie says, suddenly finding the hem of his scratchy blanket fascinating. “Just friends.”

“You guys get along well,” Robin says, more statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“And she’s beautiful, yeah?” Robin asks, raising her eyebrows at Eddie.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” she asks.

Eddie groans, dropping his head back against his pillow. Never mind the fact that Steve “ladies man” Harrington–an actual ladies’ man, not like Henderson–is in the room, but Eddie’s never been particularly comfortable talking about his experience—or rather lack thereof—with girls. There’s also the fact that he was literally attacked by bats from an alternate dimension, barely escaping hell with his life intact. And you’re so bright and sunny and the total opposite of what Eddie brings to the table.

“It’s just that she… I mean, I… you see, we—.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Munson. Stop playing games. We all see the spark,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly.

“There’s a spark?” Eddie asks quietly, lifting his head from the pillow and infinitesimal amount.

“I knew it!” Dustin exclaims loudly, earning an angry shush from someone passing through the hallway. “Look at the stupid grin on his face! Eddie wuvs his Sunshine!” He leans over to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but gets his hand slapped away.

“I don’t love her!” Eddie hisses. “Now, if you idiots could stop bothering me about this, and we can talk about anything else.”

“Okay, we’ll stop,” Robin agrees, but the mischievous smirk on her face says otherwise, “when you look me in the eyes and can tell me you don’t have feelings for her.”

Eddie lays back down and pulls the covers up over his head. “Goodnight and goodbye,” he mutters, despite the fact that it’s only 10 AM.

Steve yanks the covers back down, laughing when he sees his new friend scowling. “Calm down, man,” he says, sitting down on the starchy blanket, careful not to bump into Eddie. “We’re just messing with you. We’ll behave now.” He shoots Dustin and Robin a warning look, and the two grumble their apologies.

“‘S fine,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m tired anyway, so…” He lets his gaze fall to the doorway.

“Yeah, of course,” Robin says with a small smile. “We’ll visit soon.”

“Get well soon, buddy,” Dustin lowers his voice as quietly as he can—which isn’t saying much, given his normal volume. “The kids of the future are counting on more of your sadistic campaigns.”

As Eddie slips into a medicated slumber, he makes a silent prayer for sweet dreams. Your image appears in his mind, and he can’t deny the warmth it brings him.

Shit, he thinks. Those morons were right. I have a thing for Sunshine. He hopes that he’ll dream of you now that he’s admitted his crush.

No such luck.

The skies are red and gray, strange bursts of some sort of lightning fill the air. Weird shrill squeals fill the dead air. Eddie’s body is full of pain, searing and bleeding wounds making it difficult to breathe. Quick gasps leave his lips, his hands clutching at the ripped shreds of his shirt.

“Eddie! Shit!” Dustin’s voice rings around Eddie. The shorter boy is somewhere in the distance, not too far. “Steve! SOS! SOS!”

Soon, two pairs of hands are on Eddie’s body, trying to help, but only making the pain worse. He tries to steal himself against it, but it’s no use. The tears come, hot and thick as they build up in his eyes. The fear, the desperation, the pain. It’s all too much.

“Eddie?”

It’s not Steve or Dustin’s voice that Eddie hears above it all. It’s yours. But what are you doing in this God awful place? It’s the very last place that Eddie wants you.

“Eddie!”

The darkness in the sky fades, a subtle light beginning to shine through. Then, the next thing he knows, Eddie is blinking his eyes open in the bright hospital room, his face sticky with the trail of tears. He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Once his vision is cleared, he sees you being wheeled into the room in the wheelchair you were brought out in. Your face is pinched in concern and it takes Eddie a moment to realize you’re concerned for him.

“Can you wheel me over to Eddie’s bed instead? Thanks,” you say to the transporter, who does as you request. Eddie scoots over and pulls down his blankets, silently offering you the space next to him. Biting your lip, you look around as if you’re debating, before pushing yourself up onto your good leg and holding out your arms for balance. Immediately, Eddie reaches over and takes your hand so you can use him to steady yourself. Shooting him a grateful smile, you’re able to situate yourself on the edge of his bed.

The transporter looks like he doesn’t know if he should be allowing this or not, so he quickly puts his head down and leaves the room with the wheelchair. Eddie helps you get situated next to him before he pulls the blankets up over both of you.

“Another bad dream?” you ask once you’re comfortable.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

“Was it as bad as the first time?”

“At first. But I heard you calling me a lot earlier this time. Got all nice and light again before I opened my eyes. How’d it go with the surgeon?”

“Oh,” you say, averting your eyes. “Nothing special. Just going over X-rays and tests and stuff, ya know?” You clear your throat, anxious to have the subject changed. “You know when you’re getting out of here?”

“Not yet,” Eddie says, sinking back against his pillows.

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out?” you ask.

“Honestly? Get a fucking cheeseburger. This hospital food is shit. I mean, come on. What a man gotta do to get something better than gray mashed potatoes and lime Jell-O?”

“Okay,” you say with a giggle. “After you get some good food, what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“Oh, come on,” you say. “What’s Eddie Munson’s big dream? Be a big rock star? World tours? Opening for Ozzy? No—Ozzy opening for you.”

Eddie scoffs, gently nudging your shoulder with his. “Before all…this…happened, I was thinking about moving to Indianapolis after graduation. Get involved in the music scene there.”

“Indianapolis?” You wrinkle your nose. “That’s honestly super boring. You survived an earthquake and you’re only gonna go to the state capital?”

“Fine,” he whines exaggeratedly, smiling as he does it. “How about…Australia? I can be, like, a kangaroo farmer.”

“Is that even a thing?”

“It is now.” His loose, tangled curls brush up against the part of your shoulder left exposed by the pale blue hospital gown. “What about you? New York City? Maybe dance on Broadway, or be one of those…Christmas, kicking girls?”

You snort out a laugh. “A Rockette?”

“Yeah.”

“Eh,” you shrug, pushing away the thoughts of the news you’d just received from the surgeon. “New York’s nice to visit, but I need someplace warm. I’m thinking of going to California.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big Hollywood star,” Eddie teases, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his voice. “And if the movie you’re dancing in needs a band, you know who to recommend.”

“Of course. But do you really think I could get Tears for Fears to play?” His shove is a bit harder this time, making both of you groan as you laugh. “Kidding, kidding. You know Corroded Coffin will be at the top of my list. If you’re not too busy with your own gigs.”

Never too busy for my Sunshine, Eddie nearly blurts out, but he says instead, “will do.” He’s silent for a bit before asking, “Why didn’t you go to California?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you going to college in Indiana and not California?” Eddie tries again. “I mean, you said it yourself: the entertainment scene is much better there than here.” He scrunches up his nose. “Actually, why are you even in college?”

You bark out a laugh at the bluntness of his question. “Um, because that’s what people do after high school?”

“You don’t have to, though,” he quips. “Think about it, Sunshine. College will always be there, but if you wanna pursue dance, you’ve gotta do it while you’re young and, uh, limber.” His cheeks blush a delicious shade of pink.

“Yeah, well.” The truth comes tumbling out before you can stop it. “My parents didn’t think it was a good idea. Just dancing. They wanted me to go to get my degree; build a ‘solid foundation’ or whatever.” You trace invisible spirals into the blanket as you speak. “My dad told me that he could never tell his friends that I danced for a living, because they would, and I quote, ‘think that his daughter was a stripper with daddy issues.’”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “First of all, stripping is a noble profession, and I do not approve of any stripper slander in my home.”

“We’re not in your home,” you point out.

“I do not approve of any stripper slander in my hospital room,” he amends, flicking your forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “And, second, do not tell me that you made a decision about your future based on the opinions of your dad’s old-ass friends.” He groans when you remain quiet. “Seriously?”

“I just didn’t want to upset them,” you mumble. “The only reason they allowed me to study dance is because I’m also majoring in education. I could be a dance teacher.”

“Do you wanna be a dance teacher?”

“Someday,” you admit. “I taught some classes at my studio for the little kids, and I really liked it.” You gnaw at your lower lip.

“But?” Eddie presses, letting his thumb graze against yours.

“But it’s not what I want to do now,” you relent. “Right now, I want to go on auditions and maybe get cast in a play or a cheesy music video or a goddamn commercial and…and dance.”

Eddie gives your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back, not wanting to cross a boundary when you’re so vulnerable. “Then you’re gonna dance,” he murmurs. “We’ll get outta here and move to Cali, and you’re gonna dance.”

A month ago, the prospect of dropping out of school to dance professionally would have you downright terrified. Terrified of failure, of your parents’ inevitable disappointment, of finding out you’re not good enough. But now it only fills you with regret, because that dream became impossible with just the shifting of some rogue tectonic plates.

“Okay,” you say softly, once again wearing your hopeful façade. “Sounds like a plan.” A plan you’ll both easily forget once you’re back out in the real world, faced with the problems you’ve been shielded from within the hospital walls.

The two of you lay there talking about your futures until sleep overtakes you both. Eddie’s the first to drift off; you stay awake for a bit, consumed by echoes of today’s appointment with Dr. Sanoj. What was supposed to be a brief meeting about scheduling your surgery turned into something much more devastating. You rest your head on Eddie’s chest, only allowing yourself to unravel when you hear his soft snores. The combination of the energy expended by crying and the drowsiness from your meds allows you to sleep, still hiccuping from tears as you fall into a dreamless slumber.

Neither of you hear the soft click of crutches as Dustin hobbles back into the room. “Forgot my—son of a bitch, I knew it!” he whispers, slinging his left-behind jacket over his shoulder. “Steve and Robin are gonna lose their shit!”

The next morning, Mandy arrives with breakfast and medication. In front of each of you, she places a plate of runny scrambled eggs, fruit that is described as “fresh” but most certainly is not, and a small carton of orange juice. It’s strangely domestic, and you can’t help but imagine you and Eddie eating together in your shared home. You’re making pancakes or waffles or frittatas—anything better than the food in front of you. Eddie’s frying up bacon, wearing an apron that says Kiss the Chef, and you do, over and over and—

The rattle of your pill cup snaps you from your fantasy, and you dutifully swallow the pastel tablets with a swig of juice.

Eddie grins when Mandy gives him his meds. “Hello, beautiful,” he croons, making grabby motions with his calloused hands.

“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson; no more painkillers in this batch,” Mandy says, laughing at his pout despite herself. “Dr. Franklin wants to speak with you; he’ll be making his rounds in a few minutes.”

“Oooh, Eddie’s in trooouble!” you sing-song, flashing a grin at him.

Rolling his eyes at you, Eddie downs his pills and leans back against his pillow. “Would be used to it. Was in Higgin’s office enough.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you say with a sigh. “Did you go down to the cafeteria while I was asleep and make some big dramatic speech on one of the tables? At least tell me that someone videotaped it for me.”

“You’re hilarious,” he says, tossing his empty paper cup at you. The giggle you let out has his stomach feeling tingly, and he’s sure it’s not from the medications.

There’s a knock on the open door to your room and an older man steps inside, a clipboard tucked under his arm. “Hey, Eddie. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks, doc,” Eddie answers. “What’s the word?”

“Well, glad to say everything looks good. All lab results are normal and you’re healing up nicely. Of course, some injuries still have a ways to go, but there’s no reason you can’t be home for that.”

Eddie’s immediately thrilled. Finally, being able to get out of the hospital where he’s been poked and prodded and it’s impossible to get a good night’s sleep because of all the beeping equipment and nurses constantly checking on you. But as soon as the excitement came, it went. Because leaving the hospital also meant not spending most of the hours in the day by your side. No waking up to your laughter as he tells shitty jokes over your shitty breakfasts. No more saying, “I told you so” when Shelby confesses to the other twin, “I’m still in love with you” on your daily soap opera binges. No more constant sunshine.

“That’s great,” Eddie tells the doctor, his heart not behind the words. “When am I sprung?”

“Should be good to go tomorrow morning. I’m just gonna head back to my office, dot the i’s, cross the t’s, put my name on the X. You know, all that official mumbo jumbo. I’ll have Mandy get everything together. Your prescriptions, your discharge papers, and whatever else you’ll need.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie says, nails scratching at the blanket in his lap.

“Any questions for me?” The doctor asks. When Eddie shakes his head, the doctor gives him a smile and pats Eddie’s leg.

“Oh, I have one,” you say, raising your hand from where you’re tucked up in bed. “When is he cleared to shower? It’s like sharing a room with a donkey.”

The doctor lets out a small chuckle. “Eddie, you are officially cleared to take a shower. If you think of any questions, just tell Mandy. She’ll make sure I get the message.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Eddie nods his head at the man as he steps out of the room. Eddie turns his head to see you grinning at him. While it’s a beautiful sight, it now gives him a melancholy feeling.

“You’re being freed!” you call. “You can go get that cheeseburger tomorrow!”

“Should I sneak one into you?” Eddie asks, his smirk not packing its usual punch.

“Oh, please do,” you say. “God, I can practically taste it.”

“Or smell it? Like, how apparently you’re smelling me?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. Part of him is a little embarrassed because the two of you were sitting so close together just last night.

“You’re not that bad,” you tell him. “I probably smell vile.”

Not a chance, Eddie thinks. “All right, well, I guess I’ll go take a shower then.” He stands up from the bed and over to the small pile of clothes Wayne had brought him the other day. Just some old t-shirts and comfortable pajama pants to sleep in, but it was still nice to have a touch of home.

Once Eddie has closed the bathroom door behind him, Mandy comes in to check your vitals.

“Heard the good news,” she says as she reads the numbers of your blood pressure. “Gonna be weird having a room to yourself? You guys have been inseparable.”

Your face heats at her words and you look down at your lap as she scribbles something into your chart. “S’fine,” you say with a shrug. Mandy looks down at you, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Uh huh,” she says as she clicks her pen. “Well, all your numbers are good. They stay this way, you’ll be headed to the operating room before you know it. Need anything?”

“No,” you say, downcast eyes on your blanket.

A bang from the en suite bathroom has both you and Mandy craning your heads in that direction.

“I’m good!” Eddie shouts. “Just dropped the shampoo!”

It makes you chuckle and Mandy shakes her head, fondly. You think she’s going to miss him, too.

“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” you say to Mandy as she heads out the door. Sighing to yourself, you cuddle up in your blankets and decide to have a five minute pity party. Not only are you facing multiple surgeries over the foreseeable future, but Eddie won’t be here by your side to keep your spirits up. Sure, maybe he calls you his sunshine, but you’re positive he isn’t aware of how much he brightens your days too. The water turns off in the bathroom and you quickly wipe your hands over your cheeks, trying to catch any pesky tears that may have slipped free.

The curtain in the middle of the room is opened—it’s only ever closed anymore if a doctor or nurse needs it to be for some reason. It allows you to see the bathroom door open, but before you see him, you can hear Eddie mumbling to himself.

“Man knows how to do laundry. What the hell is this? A fucking toddler shirt?” When you finally see him, your breath is caught in your chest—for two reasons. One, the teenage girl in you can’t help but respond this way to seeing the guy you have a crush on without his shirt. Two, you’d never really heard the whole story of why Eddie had to come to the hospital, and seeing the puckered and pulled flesh of his chest makes your heart ache. There’s bruising leaving purple and brown spots on top of red and pink gashes that are healing. It looks painful and searing against his otherwise pale white skin.

You know better than to stare. Obviously he’d assume you’re just staring at the scars, not admiring the small but sculpted muscles beneath them. It takes a Herculean effort to pull your gaze from his body and look down in your lap.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles as he stomps over to his pile of clothes. He rummages through them until he finds another shirt. He’s quick in slipping it on, then turns towards your bed. Taking the few steps over in your direction, he sits down on the bottom corner of your bed. When you look up, there’s half a smile on his face as he plays with a small white cloth in his hands. “Believe it or not, this used to be a shirt that fit me.” He holds the cloth up and you see it’s a Guns N’ Roses shirt that’s been shrunk until only a child could fit into it. “My uncle must’ve shrunk it. Guess that’s payback for all the times I turned his white shirts pink because I left a pair of red boxers in the washer.”

“Led Zeppelin is better anyway,” you say, gesturing to the shirt he’s currently wearing.

“So, uh,” Eddie says, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with the too-small tee. “You saw the scars, huh?”

“I did,” you say in a quiet voice. His cheeks turn red and it breaks your heart. “No, please don’t be embarrassed, Eddie. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Shutting it again, Eddie shakes his head. “I, um… they just. They’re—what I mean…”

“Eddie, take a breath. It’s okay.” You go to reach for his hand, but you can’t bend enough due to your injured leg. Eddie shifts so he’s facing you and leans the rest of the way so you can take his hand. “There’s no scar you could have that would make me think any less of you. Plus, you haven’t seen my leg. It looks pretty gnarly.”

“Gnarly?” Eddie asks, looking up at you underneath his eyelashes, the tiniest smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m preparing for that California life,” you tease him. “Gotta fit in with the surfer dudes.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “As soon as you get the OK, I’m booking our tickets.” He shoves the pillow out of the way and sits on top of the blanket. “I can’t afford first-class, so coach will have to do.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not a diva—yet,” you add, excited to play along with the fantasy game he has going on. “I can handle a few hours with the common folk.”

“And we thank you for gracing us with your presence.” Eddie’s eyes flit back to your leg. “When do you think you’ll be good to go?”

Dr. Sanoj told you that between surgeries and recovery, it’ll be at least six weeks, but you bite back that information. “Any day now,” you lie. “Just waiting on those discharge papers. But you know how that can be, with all the sign offs. Everyone’s gotta cross their t’s and dot their i’s.” Good God, shut up, you think.

“Cool,” Eddie nods. He looks deep in thought, tongue poking out in concentration. “Yeah, all right. I can make it work.”

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully at his commitment to the bit. Your pain meds start to kick in, and you drift off into a hazy sleep.

While you’re passed out, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Oh, she’s asleep,” Eddie hears a woman’s voice softly murmur. There’s a slight creak as she sits in the chair next to your bed. “My sweet girl. Mom’s here.”

Your mom. Eddie uses his elbows to push himself up, pulling the curtain back a few inches.

“Um, hi,” he says, not realizing how nervous he is until he actually starts talking. “Are you Sunshine’s mom?”

The woman’s brow crinkles. “Sunshine?”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink. “Yeah, I, uh, I call her Sunshine,” he stammers, nodding in your direction.

“Then, yes, I’m Sunshine’s mom.”

“She, um, she’s—I call her Sunshine because she brightens up my day. Probably the only person in this building who doesn’t hate my guts, let alone like me.” He wants to stop talking, but he can’t. “I have these nightmares, y’know? From the, uh, earthquake thing. And she always pulls me outta them. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I go home tomorrow.”

Your mom gives Eddie a sympathetic smile, gently stroking your hand, minding the needle poking into it. “Well, she’s always telling me how much you make her laugh. Lord knows she could use some happiness in her life.” She sighs. “I just hope her new roommate is as kind as you.”

“At least she’s getting outta here soon,” Eddie offers, “so even if she has a shi—bad roommate, it won’t be for long.”

“Six weeks isn’t exactly ‘soon,’” your mom says. Her gaze doesn’t leave your face, so peaceful in your sleep.

“Wait, six weeks?” Eddie nearly chokes on his own tongue in surprise. “No, she told me that the doctor should clear her in the next coupla days.”

Your mom shakes her head. “She’s got three surgeries to fix that broken femur, plus recovery time. The reason it’s only six weeks is because she’s young and healthy.”

Eddie feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Why would you lie to him? Get him pumped up about the prospect of moving to California, living out your dreams together, for it to all be bullshit?

Tears prick at his eyes. Maybe this was all just a joke, a stupid prank on your part. Make the Freak think that someone actually cared about him, laughing behind his back the whole time.

Maybe it’s best that he’s leaving tomorrow. Then he won’t have to listen to you drag him along for your own sick entertainment.

You wake up around dinnertime, stretching your limbs as much as your limited mobility allows. It’s a far cry from your usual limber exercises, but it’s enough to get the blood flowing through your body.

An episode of Wheel of Fortune plays from the TV in the corner, but it’s blocked by the curtain. Eddie probably closed it while I slept, you think. That’s pretty much the only time you two keep the room divided; every now and then, you forget and wake up to the sight of Eddie Munson sleeping next to you.

“Eds? You awake?”

“Yup,” is his terse reply, with no enthusiasm behind it.

You open the curtain with a grin. “Are you grumpy because your novelas aren’t on?”

“Nope.” He keeps his arms crossed over his chest, left ankle draped over his right.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, frowning. “Did something happen while I was sleeping?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eddie finally allows his gaze to meet yours. His usual friendly doe eyes are clouded with anger. “Your mom stopped by.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Did she say something that upset you? I told her that all the murderer stuff wasn’t true, and she believed me—believed you.”

“Actually, we talked a bit about you.” The acid in his tone is enough to burn.

“What about me?” you ask, only becoming further confused by this conversation.

Eddie huffs out a humorless chuckle and licks his tongue across his teeth. “Really thought you had me, didn’t you? Think you could pretend to be all buddy buddy with me just to mess with me? Get in my head?”

“What? Who’s in your head?” Part of you wonders if this is all some medicine-induced stress dream. “Eddie.” You push yourself up as best you can, leg aching and body suffering from general soreness from being cramped in the bed for so long. “What are you talking about? What did my mom say to you?”

This time when his eyes cut to you, there’s more than anger there. There’s fury, pain. The sight makes your heart ache, and the fact that this look is directed at you is making your head spin.

“Just a couple of days, huh?” Eddie pushes himself to the edge of his bed so his legs hang off the side. His glare burns your skin and you feel yourself wanting to shrink down and out of sight. “That’s how long til the doctor will clear ya?”

Part of the puzzle of why Eddie was mad was starting to kick into place. Shit, you think. Mom must’ve said something about the surgeries.

“Eddie, I—.”

“Lied? Yeah, you did. But what’s that matter when you’re lying to The Freak?”

Guilt gives way to anger in your gut as he throws this accusation at you. Not once, whether in high school with him or after, did you think of Eddie as a freak. You’ve never agreed with those who called him names and treated him as lesser than.

“I didn’t lie to you because I think you're a freak, Eddie.” It comes out strangled between all the emotions vying to be expressed through your voice.

“You sure about that?” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, and it’s hard to see a trace of the laughing and smiling Eddie you’ve become so close with.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you grit out. “I lied becau—.”

“Well, what possible other motive could there have been?” Eddie questions. His hands are gripping the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning almost as white as the linens.

“If you would just listen to me!”

“So you can lie some more?” Eddie scoffs and shakes his head. “Well, screw California.”

Confusion is suddenly back in your mixture of emotions. California? Why bring up that joke now? Unless…

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. “You were actually serious about going to California?”

“What?” he practically barks out. “You weren’t?”

“Eddie, I thought that was a joke,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “Some made up fantasy to get us through spending all our time in these four plain-as-fuck walls.”

“Of course you weren’t really going to do that with me,” Eddie says, a sneer curling his lip.

“Because I didn’t know it was real!” you try to explain.

Eddie throws up his arms, grimacing as it tugs on his stitches. “Why wouldn’t it be real? Is me having a future that unbelievable?”

“What the hell are you on?” you hiss. “Eddie, you need to finish high school. And I need to get my bachelor’s degree. We can’t just be fucking off to California like it’s no big deal!”

Eddie bites his thumbnail before responding. “Let me get this straight. We narrowly escape death during this…earthquake…and you wanna just go back to our normal lives? Like we weren’t given a second chance to live?” He’s pacing around the room now. “My neighbor? Max Mayfield? Harrington told me that she’s blind now. She’s fucking blind and in a full body cast!”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, but he continues frantically walking back and forth without acknowledging you.

“And Jason Carver. Jason fucking Carver! I hated that son of a bitch, and now he’s dead. All those times he was a piece of shit to me and I wished something would happen to him, and now it did.”

“That’s not your fault,” you try. “You didn’t cause the earthquake.”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s all I thought about: death and sadness. And then I met you.” His eyes are shiny with tears. “Someone who liked spending time with me, who believed in me, who had these crazy dreams just like I did. A…a friend.” He wipes at his face clumsily, embarrassed to be crying. “But you’re just like the rest of them, huh?”

“That’s not fair—”

“Y’know what’s real fuckin’ funny?” Eddie smacks his hand on his bedside table. “The other day, Harrington said that we—you and I—had some kinda ‘spark’ between us.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Guess he’s just as full of shit as you are, Sunshine.” When he says the nickname now, it’s full of venom; there’s no trace of the sweet, goofy guy you’ve gotten to know.

“Eddie, if you would just let me—” But yet again, Eddie doesn’t let you attempt to explain any of the situation. The fact that a part of you somewhere deep inside is fluttery because Steve saw a spark between you and Eddie is something you have to put away to examine at a better time.

“Good luck with your surgery,” Eddie says. “Too bad the doctors can’t cure bitch.”

It feels like a punch to the gut, the air being knocked out of you. Your mouth opens and your lips move, but no sound comes out. There’s a crack in your heart, but it quickly feels like it’s been soldered closed with the anger bubbling up inside of you. Your lungs reinflate, the blood pumps heavily through your veins, and your fists clench where they rest in your lap. The urge to lash out is strong. And at this moment, you’re so very weak.

“You know what, Eddie? Fuck you. And hey, good luck getting to California with those murder charges on your record.” The moment the words tumble out of your mouth you wish you could take them back. Eddie stepped over the line, but you ran right past him. “Shit, I didn’t—.”

Suddenly you’re not looking at Eddie anymore. He’s pulled the curtain closed, the last glimpse you get of him is a raging fury in his eyes. And you can hardly blame him. The only thing that stares back at you is the gauzy white curtain still swaying from the forceful yank.

“Eddie…” The television volume gets turned up to an ungodly volume, making you cover your ears and impossible to have a conversation over.

You spend the rest of the night with your ear pressed to the pillow in an attempt to drown out the baseball game he’s watching. Given his penchant for yelling about the absurdity of sports, you doubt he’s even paying attention to it, but the broadcasters’ monologues about fastballs and strikes curtails any attempt to speak to him. You barely touch your dinner, and Mandy tuts at you worriedly, but you insist you feel fine.

In reality, you feel nauseated. You said a horrible thing to a wonderful person, and you really hurt his feelings.

Maybe we can talk it through in the morning, you think, trying not to get your hopes up. Maybe we can apologize and move on.

When you wake up the next morning, his bed has been slept in, left unmade while he’s probably in the bathroom. The curtain is pulled back; an excellent sign that he’s ready to hear your apology, and possibly forgive you. As soon as he comes back, you’ll give it a shot.

“Gonna be quiet around here for a bit without your buddy, huh?” Mandy says from the doorway. She walks over to Eddie’s bed and starts stripping the sheets. “You get to say goodbye?”

“Not yet,” you admit. “I’ll have to catch him before he leaves.”

Mandy’s brows furrow in confusion. “Honey, his uncle came and got him an hour ago.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “He didn’t tell you?”

All you can do is shake your head.

“Probably didn’t wanna wake you. I’m sure he’ll stop by and visit.” Mandy curls the sheets into a ball and tucks them under her arm. “I’ll be back with breakfast and meds.”

As soon as she’s gone, you burst into tears. Eddie left without saying goodbye. He left thinking you don’t care about him or believe in him. He left without his Sunshine.

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