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i2ycat · 3 months ago

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two wrongs don’t make one right

pairing lee heeseung x fem!reader synopsis mistakes always happen, whether you mean to make them or not. but it’s not a question of ‘do you like heeseung?’ anymore, it’s more so: ‘why do you like heeseung?’. or in which, two wrongs just don’t make one right genre college!au, slight fluff, angst, established relationship word count 3k+ warnings cursing, crying, toxic relationship between heeseung and reader, implications of a professor x student relationship, heeseung is implied to have possibly cheated, reader cheats w sunghoon, everyone is of age, bitchy & manipulative characters, reader is insecure, small mention of smoking weed, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking it’s been 2 months since i last posted anything oh my…. erm! here’s a little fic before i disappear again lol <//3 i don’t condone anything that happens in this fic or any of their decisions!!!! main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

The weekend had rolled by faster than you could blink. One second, you’re rotting away in your room and the next, you’re hopping on one foot in front of your mirror, hastily getting ready for the day because you’re running 30 minutes late to your 10am coding class. You’re usually the type to wake up earlier than your alarm, but you were staying up way later than you usually would’ve the night before— staying up late to talk to your boyfriend of 7 months, Lee Heeseung.

Known to be the academy’s most influential guy, Lee Heeseung was, and still is, quite the character. Simply calling him influential would be a grave understatement though, because he descended from a family of powerful politicians and businessmen, even having the biggest corporation in all of South Korea— Lee Tech— as part of his familial pedigree.

It’s no secret that he has the entire world at his fingertips, and at any given moment, he could burn it if he wanted to.

But like how everything else in this world is unfair, Lee Heeseung wasn’t just disgustingly rich, he also inherited his mother’s celebrity looks— evident in his sharp features and overly charming personality. He has girls constantly eyeing him left and right, up and down, even when you’re around.

You went into this relationship knowing full well the certain costs it had to your own happiness and well-being. In the 7 months you’ve been seeing each other, you’ve never felt so insecure in your entire life. And despite his constant reassurances, you know that he couldn’t even begin to imagine half of the battlefield you were facing.

No matter how much you try to deny it, you were subconsciously fighting for his attention against people who were born to be at the same status as he is— in terms of wealth, power, and looks. You always hated being born into a grassroots-level family, but you knew that being salty about your birth-given circumstances would change absolutely nothing. So you worked hard as fuck to be able to get into such a prestigious university. You threw the entirety of your youth away to be able to be the first in your family to go to college, and here you are, barely hanging onto your scholarship because of some boy you met at a party almost half a year earlier.

They’re only admirers, he said. It was just you and him, he said. You just needed to trust him, he said, but that’s something easier said than done, especially for you.

“Running late again?” The security guard monotonously inquires. He’s seen this exact scene about a thousand times and more with other students before you, so he’s chopping the late slip and handing it back to you like clockwork, but this time with a small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was as if he had a good day but not good enough to warrant the toiling of doing such a challenging task.

Not that it mattered to you anyways.

You ducked your head in an informal ‘thank you’ before hurriedly leaving the stale office and into the hallways.

The hallways always seemed unending whenever you were running late, the rows of windows you ran past would multiply tenfold and the clock’s hands would run faster than it usually would— it felt as if time was warping everything within its reach.

Finally, the running reached its stop. You bent on your knees to catch your breath, the late slip crumpling in between your fingers in the process.

One.

Two.

You counted.

There was no reason to panic. Just walk in, hand the slip and sit your ass down. The visual in your head was clear and it somewhat helped to calm down your nerves. So with one last deep breath, you turn the brass handle and walk in.

You’re so damn dramatic.

The doors creaking reverberates in the small auditorium, easily catching everyone’s attention. You gulp down the lump in your throat as you watch your professor pass you a look of disapproval. It made your heart drop, because you were his best student and you hate disappointing people who expect great things from you. Your let your gaze angle towards the carpeted floors, making your way to the seat closest to the door.

When you feel as if you’ve disappeared into your seat, it was as if you could breathe again. You were finally away from the spotlight and people’s unnervingly curious eyes ceased trailing your every move. You should really start sleeping earlier or you’d have to get used to this.

“Hey,” Erin, your seatmate, whispers. Her voice tried to be as discreet as it could in a whisper… it didn’t really work. The professor gave her a stern stare as a form of warning, though you could tell it had an entirely different undertone, even from a mile away. It left a bad taste in your mouth, having to bear witness to such unprofessional exchanges of looks in an academic setting of all places. Erin, who bites her lip, scribbles whatever she was going to say to you on a torn piece of paper.

“Wanna know a secret?” It read with two boxes just right underneath it: yes or no. You look at her with a dumbfounded look plastered all over your face. You knew she was childish to a certain extent, but was she really that childish? Nevertheless, you tick the box on the left and send it back to her.

Cause you know, curiosity killed the cat.

You should’ve seen the conniving smirk plastered on her lips but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice anything else around you. She scribbles once more then folds it, dropping it into your hands with the hastily written warning facing you: “read it when you get home. preferably alone lol ;)”.

Then, class is dismissed.

You watch her get up from her seat and blend in with everybody else rushing out of the room, not missing the heavy glance she passes at the professor. You didn’t even want to stay any longer to see what happened next, so you started haphazardly shoving things into your bag instead, remembering to pocket the small note into the depths of your jacket.

When you leave the room, Lee Heeseung is already standing there, in all his lazy-fitted glory— messy bed hair hiding under a hood, donning the black hoodie you both bought as a couple’s set for valentines last week and the black sweatpants you bought for him to match.

“Hello, beautiful.” He coos, engulfing you in a tight one-armed hug. It gave you the opportunity to take in his woody yet elegant-smelling perfume, the same Jo Malone one he wore everyday.

Your heart swelled in its place, appreciating how, without fail, Heeseung would wait for you outside your classes whenever he could, even if they ended really late— late enough that he should be at home resting, but instead, he would spend that time waiting for you like the good boyfriend he is.

“Hey,” you smile into his chest. “Ugh, I woke up late again today thanks to a certain someone.”

“Wonder who that is? Maybe I should give them a word or two about keeping my princess up so late.” He pulls you from his chest to cup your face, coaxing you to fall deeper with that sweet smile of his. It never fails to make you feel like you’re the only girl in his world, like he’s got your back no matter what.

It was dangerous for such a smile to have the ability to make you forget about all your problems, even ones pertaining to him.

“You’re such a dork,” you roll your eyes at him as you push him away.

“At least I’m your dork, so naturally… it cancels out.” A boyish grin spreads across his face so innocently that you can’t help but press a kiss on his nose, immediately prompting him to blush a crimson red at your sudden display of affection. “What was that for?”

“You looked cute,” you shrug.

At this, Heeseung turns an impossibly darker shade of red. “You can’t just say things like that so casually and expect me to be okay.” The way he attempts to cover the blush in his face behind his hands makes you laugh, completely and utterly endeared by him.

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll give you a heads up, yeah?”

“You’re so mean.” He pouts.

When you got yourself entangled with the Lee Heeseung all those months ago, you didn’t think that he would have such a boyish and cute side to him. His public persona had always been this untouchable, charismatic guy who could get anything he wanted with a snap of his finger, so you could imagine the whiplash you experienced when the first time you ever kissed him, he blushed so deeply you thought he was drunk.

It made you feel special, being the only one to have ever brought out this side of him, like you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Yeah, but you can’t ever bring yourself to hate me.”

“That… is very true, I’m afraid.” Heeseung sighs, catching your hand in his. “I’m kinda hungry, right now. Sushi?”

“Sure.”

—

Over the course of your entire life, there’ve only been a handful of times where you’ve been betrayed by people you trusted: first when you were twelve, being wrongly accused of having cheated on a test by your then best friend; second when you were the only one to have been thrown under the bus by people you thought were your close group of friends for smoking weed in your highschool’s bathroom cubicle; and third when you found out that Heeseung had been with Erin during the one-week break in your relationship.

The note passed to you by Erin from earlier in the month stays ripped into pieces in the palm of your hand. You’d forgotten all about it until a few hours ago, and you wished it had stayed that way. But you know by now that things never go your way.

You and Heeseung were on break for about a week, citing that you were not in the mental headspace to be dealing with a relationship at that moment in time because of your slipping grades, and he understandably obliged, even kissing your forehead goodbye as you left his apartment.

Erin’s written confession, if you could even call it that, echoes in your mind like a blaring alarm.

from girlie to girlie, your boyfriend came onto me while you guys were on your little break. must say, your boyfriend is talented at making people cry ;).

All you needed was a week to heal and sort your shit out before you went back into his arms, and he couldn’t even wait that long?

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to scream your aching heart away, to be left with nothing more than a void. At least then, you would no longer feel the hurt and betrayal Heeseung inflicted upon you with his actions, and the months of torment you’d endured just to seem worthy to stay by his side.

Did he even ever truly love you like he said he did?

The more you dwell on these thoughts, the more you could feel yourself physically slipping into a state of mental numbness as you stayed motionless on your spot on the carpeted floor.

It wouldn’t be until a few more hours later that Heeseung would enter your dorm, tired as ever from his basketball practice. It was routine for him to crash at your dorm on Tuesdays and Fridays—whenever he had basketball practices— because it was more convenient for him to get to his 9am class the next day from your in-campus dorm, compared to his condo that was 20 minutes away. Adding that you gave him the energy he needed for the days ahead, but now you’re contemplating whether that part was even true or not.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you from the entrance. “I’ve got to tell you about what happened to Jay at practice today-” he cuts himself short as he spots your leaning figure, head tucked into your knees, surrounded by torn pieces of paper.

“Y/n?” He quickly runs to your side.

“Seungie,” you meekly whisper as you lift your head, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes finally coming into clear view.

“Did something happen? What happened?” His hands make quick work to caress your face, tucking stray pieces of hair behind your ears and wiping tears away with his thumb.

Even after knowing what he had allegedly done behind your back, you couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding. This was the sweet, caring Heeseung you knew and loved. And so the thought that Erin could’ve been lying to you, flitters across your mind and nestles itself there.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Your voice sounds hoarse and quiet, yet the silent pleading rings deafeningly in your ears. You felt so pathetic crying in your living room about a boy who might’ve technically cheated on you, then finding yourself putty in his hands the moment he shows you the version of truth you’re familiar with.

Why are making up excuses for his behaviour?

Gosh, your roommate would kill you if she knew how much of a loser you’ve become in Heeseung’s presence.

“Of course not, baby,” he pulls you into an embrace. “There’s nothing I could ever lie to you about.” Did this ease your trust issues in any way? No. But it did assure you that Erin was still nothing but a serial liar, wanting nothing more than to see other people’s relationships fall apart for her own selfish entertainment… you think.

You hum into Heeseung’s tweed pullover.

It was always like this. You don’t know how many times you’ve gone through the same thing, and you don’t know how many more times you can go through without fully losing your sanity. But you can’t seem to find it in yourself to pull away, no matter how exhausted your heart and soul becomes.

—

“Can’t believe you stayed with him, even after knowing what he did behind your back.” Erin sneers from beside you, clearly amused by your course of actions these past few weeks.

“Whatever I do is none of your business,” you bite back through your teeth. You’ve never liked Erin, but even more so after the stunt she did that almost cost you your entire relationship with Heeseung. You should’ve known that she never had good intentions to begin with, constantly lying through her teeth. “I know you lied about it.”

She raises an eyebrow at this, “You think I’m lying? Oh baby, you’re really so fucking gullible.” Erin could practically see the cogs turning in your brain, if the furrowing of your brows were anything to go by. “I’m saying that Heeseung has you completely under his thumb, and you’re dumb enough to believe anything and everything he says,” she plays with her pen, swirling it around her finger as she eyes you. “It’s whatever though, Heeseung likes good girls anyways.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think we both know very well.” She smirks, tapping the pen on her temple once then twice, before shifting in her seat back towards the front of the lecture hall.

Just what was her fucking deal?

It leaves you with more questions than answers, as you watch her diligently jot down notes from beside you. After today, you were for sure going to switch seats because there was just no fucking way you could survive the rest of the year this way.

—

You don’t know how you ended up here. The first minute you were being dumped by Heeseung, and the next you’re waking up with a raging hangover in his best friend's bed.

Heeseung technically didn’t dump you, telling you that he wanted a break the same you did all those months before. And you technically didn't end up in his best friend’s bed by complete choice. You were drunk out of your mind at a party last night, one that your roommate had dragged you to after seeing you in your depressed state for the past week. But no matter the excuse you try to conjure, it still doesn’t excuse the fact that you cheated on your boyfriend.

Your heart beats sporadically at the sight of Sunghoon’s bare back facing you, not because you’re flustered but because you’re instantly hit with the gravity of your own drunken choices.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With heavy feet, you stumble out of his bed and start navigating through the mess of discarded clothes, and soon after, Sunghoon eventually stirs awake from the ruckus you were unintentionally causing in his shared dorm room. “Y/n?” He groggily calls out to you.

Fuck.

It didn’t take Sunghoon very long to figure out why the fuck you were in his room half-naked, piecing together the clues that lay around the expanse of his dorm. He clearly didn’t need to be a genius like Einstein to figure out that you and him had a drunken one-night stand. You—Heeseung’s girlfriend—and him—Heeseung’s best friend—had spent the night together. Intimately.

Right around the three-second mark, the same level of anxiety sank into his stomach.

Fuck, indeed.

“I made a mistake.” Your voice trembled, tears starting to blur your vision as hot panic courses through you.

“Hey, we were both drunk,” Sunghoon says, sitting up at the sight of you still half-dressed and starting to break down at the foot of his bed. “Heeseung doesn’t have to know about this. We both made a mistake, and don’t blame yourself because you weren’t the only one, okay?”

“But, fuck, it doesn’t change the fact that I cheated on my boyfriend. What the fuck was I thinking?” Your fingers fly to tousle with your hair, pulling at the roots to try and ease the pounding in your head.

You weren’t any better than all the people you were disgusted by, seeing as you’ve stopped as low. Memories from last night flash through your mind, as if to haunt you; the party, the flashing lights, the drinks, the kissing, the skin against skin. You felt so fucking sick to your stomach.

“We didn’t mean to sleep with each other. We were just drunk.” Sunghoon reasons, but no amount of gaslighting could change what’s already been done.

You were either going to live with this aching thorn by your side forever, or own up to your mistakes like a normal human being with a moral compass. With how deep you’ve fallen for Heeseung, you couldn’t bear losing him, yet both options entailed losing him one way or another.

It’s best not knowing what could potentially hurt, right?

Right.

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abbyshands · 4 months ago

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GOOD LUCK, BABE!

⋆𐙚₊˚ content warning: angst, internalized homophobia, reader’s in denial, breakup, arguing, implied religious trauma, sexual references -> ⋆𐙚₊˚ word count: 1k

⋆𐙚₊˚ summary: You didn’t mean to fall in love with Abby Anderson. And too afraid to be, too scared to come face to face with your lesbianism, you push her away for good.

⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ LYN SPEAKS: obviously, this is based on good luck, babe! by chappell roan. just a little drabble, but it’s actually a little intense sooo um. fair warning :3

⋆𐙚₊˚ READ THIS FIRST -> LINKS FOR PALESTINE -> DAILY CLICK -> MASTERLIST

Two girls, in love. One girl, acceptance. One girl, denial.

Abby Anderson knew what she wanted. You knew what you didn’t.

Falling for a woman was scary. Every part of it made you want to crawl out of your skin. And you had had this argument with Abby, over and over and over again. But today, today, would be the last time.

You didn’t look at anybody the way you looked at Abby. At first, you dismissed the butterflies wreaking havoc in your abdomen as meaningless the first time you met her. Harmless, even. You were just nervous to meet somebody new. That’s all it was.

Then you began to miss her when she wasn’t around. You began to dream of her. Think of her when she wasn't in your presence. Think about hugging her, kissing her.

Sex.

It made you feel inhuman. What was wrong with you? This wasn’t God’s way. This wasn’t society’s. As per the norm, you would fall for a man, marry him, bear his children, and grow old with him. That’s how it should be.

And you were scared to break away from that.

But the first time Abby kissed you, you forgot it all. God, society. You just wanted her. Irrevocably, so badly, it consumed you.

Kisses turned to dates. Dates turned to late nights, late nights of talking. Talking turned to sex. Add it all and you had—

Love, no, no, no this wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. What would your friends think? What would your family?

You couldn’t fall in love with Abby. You refused.

“Well, I can’t do this anymore!” you were screaming for what was perhaps the third time in only the last few weeks, maybe even less. The same argument, over and over and over again. “I don’t want to be a- A freak!”

Abby was tired. So fucking tired of it. Sick of hearing the same old song on repeat, on a never ending loop. Abby loved you, she fucking loved you. And she was tired of watching the woman she loved fall to pieces because she was in denial.

Because she was afraid.

How many times would you do this dance? How many times would you deny your innermost desires?

How much longer would you pretend you weren’t a lesbian?

“Why do you do this?” she asked you. “You can’t keep denying it, babe. You know you like girls. You have for a long time. Why are you so scared?” Abby said, crossing her arms over her chest. Internalized homophobia was a soldier, a guard, blocking your way to happiness. Abby had learned that the hard way. And she couldn’t bear to watch it kill you the way it nearly did her.

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to mirror her, looking away. You ignore her ask, too preoccupied with the feelings swirling around your chest to give her an actual answer. “I don’t like girls. I don’t like you. I can’t.”

“And don’t call me that.”

Abby just huffed, audibly sighing, trying her best to keep her own feelings in check. It wasn’t working very well. “Why? Seriously. Give me one good reason as to why you can’t love me. I want to hear it.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Because you’re a woman, and I’m a woman. It’s as simple as that. It isn’t right,” you say. But it doesn’t even sound like you believe your own words. So you go on. And what you say is downright poisonous.

“It isn’t normal. I’m not in love. I’m broken.”

Abby’s face falls as she takes a step closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Did you really think so lowly? She wondered who had hurt you like this, who had put this wretched idea in your head that loving who you wanted to love was abnormal. A woman loving a woman wasn’t repulsive. How could she make you see that?

“Listen to me,” she said firmly. “You are not broken. There is nothing wrong with two women being in love. Do you hear me? Nothing, I promise you that. You’re just scared. I was too. Scared of what people might say, what they might think of you. But it’s not wrong. It’s not unnatural. And battling your feelings like this is only going to drive you crazy.”

Her words cut deep, you can’t even deny it. Tears rise to your eyes, and a memory prances to the front of your brain. The first time Abby kissed you. How it seemed to have healed you in a matter of seconds. How at peace, how at home, you were. And for a second, just for a second, you consider pulling her in for a kiss, to savor the taste of her lips like that again.

But you don’t. You stand your ground. Because loving a woman wasn’t in the cards for you.

It couldn’t be.

“No, you’re crazy. I can’t love you. I told you that,” you say, pushing Abby away from you, a hard shove to the chest. To the heart.

“Now leave.”

Abby’s eyes widen, and tears rise to her own eyes. God, she just wanted you to love her the way she loved you. Freely, shamelessly. But she knew that it wasn’t that easy when internalized homophobia was so deeply rooted, so, so deeply.

Fine. She would leave, go, just like you wanted. Fine. But if she had to go, Abby wanted to make sure knew. Knew what was in the cards for you. What your future would look like. Who you would be, all because you were afraid.

“Ten years,” she says, and you look at her in confusion before she goes on. “In ten years, you’ll have a husband. You’ll think marrying him will fix you. That it’ll bury the fact that you’re a lesbian. You'll try to love him. You’ll gaslight your way into marriage. But your love for him will be forced. Kissing won’t feel good. Sex will make you nauseous.”

She’s face to face with you now.

“And one day, when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night, all those years later, you’ll finally figure it out. All you are is his wife. And you’ll cry, you’ll cry so hard, your head in your hands. And then, you’ll remember me. And when you call me again? It could be five years. Two. A decade. Your whole life. I’ll recognize you. And I’ll say the four words you deserve to hear.”

A beat.

“I told you so.”

Your eyes are wide, and your jaw would be on the floor if you could move it.

You’re angry. Abby knows you are. And she’s okay with it.

Because she knows she’s right.

“Get out.”

Abby pulled back, for the last time. She walked from you to the door, prying it open and leaving it ajar, not walking out just yet. She turned back to you, giving you one last glance, the last time she would lay eyes on you for a long, long time.

And utters three words that will be engraved into your brain for even longer.

“Good luck, babe!”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fanfic #the last of us #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson imagines #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby angst #tlou abby #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson smut #the last of us smut #ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ kit’s works

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astraystayyh · 1 year ago

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The alternative

Brother's best friend changbin x reader. Fluff and slight angst. (Han is the brother).

Based on my interpretation of The Alternative by Lyn Lapid (if u can, play it after the •••)

You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.

skz song series masterlist

"Yn?" Changbin’s voice echoes clearly through the phone, and you startle, leaning away to check if you mistakenly dialed the wrong person. But there it is- Han's contact name illuminating your screen, confirming your intended call.

"Changbin? Where is Han?" you ask hesitantly, confused as to why your brother did not pick up his phone.

"He left his phone at home. I wasn't going to answer but I saw five missed calls from you, so I figured something might be wrong. Are you okay?" he asks, his voice softening at the last question.

His concern tugs at your heart, causing you to bite your lower lip forcefully. You've been sitting across from your date for the past two hours, and yet Changbin managed to pay more attention to you in the span of five seconds.

"I'm okay, don't worry about it," you reassure, trying your best to sound composed.

"Did you need something?"

"I just... I'm on a date right now and I wanted Han to come pick me up. But it's okay."

"Did they do something to you?" he asks, his voice carrying an edge to it that hadn't been present moments ago.

"No!" you quickly reassure. "I just... I don't know, it feels off but it's okay. I'm sorry for bothering you." The practiced apology rolls off your tongue effortlessly, without you having to think about uttering it.

You're accustomed to shrinking yourself, trying your hardest not take up space with your feelings. It has become second nature to you to bury your problems in a dusty box at the back of your mind, as soon as they threaten to affect those around you.

"Where are you?" he asks as you hear shuffling from his end, "I'm coming to pick you up."

"You don't have to," you murmur, regret already welling up inside you. You should've stopped calling your brother when he didn't pick up the first time.

"You are uncomfortable. That's reason enough for me."

You attempt to contradict him, but the words dissolve in your mouth, swallowed back down your throat. There's something about Changbin's unwavering voice that makes you pause. You don't have the strength to contradict him.

"Okay, thank you," you exhale a ragged breath in relief. "I'll text you the address."

You hang up, leaving the bathroom you were hiding in and sitting in front of your date once again. They resume talking, but you tune them out, your thoughts solely revolving around Changbin- the way the planets rotate unwaveringly around the sun. His concern made a pleasing warmth seep through your heart, like a sun ray piercing through clouds after a gloomy day.

You dig your fingers into your palm, desperately trying to banish thoughts of him- just as you’ve been doing for the past few months.

You met Changbin before you knew he was your brother’s best friend. In the campus café, where he almost spilled his drink on you. You thought he was adorable, apologizing profusely to you, a faint pink hue tinting his cheeks. And then he bought you a cookie, three to be exact, because he didn’t know which flavor you’d prefer. A token of his remorse as he explained to you. He was a year older, and you found talking to him as natural as being with yourself.

But for some reason, your brain didn’t register that this was the Changbin your brother told you about. Until you’ve visited Han’s dorm for the first time and there he was, opening the door for you. Changbin was never yours to begin with, a reminder you continually admonish yourself with, but you still felt as if you lost him that day.

You knew it wouldn't be wrong, per se, to date him. But the potential confrontations that would unfold from it made you recoil into your hiding. Loving Changbin holds within it numerous uncertainties, and you cannot venture into the unknown, regardless of how much you yearn for it. For him.

“Yn!” a loud voice startles you, and you snap your head towards the entrance of the restaurant where you find Changbin. He’s clad in grey sweatpants and a snug black t-shirt, standing out like a sore thumb in the high-end restaurant. He didn't take the time to change, you realize, his sole focus on reaching you as quickly as possible.

"We have to go!" he says, as soon as he's in front of your table, and your date glances at you curiously.

"You do?" they ask and you chuckle nervously. "We do?" You didn’t think of an excuse as to why you needed to leave so suddenly, and you hoped Changbin did.

"Yes, come on," he urges, outstretching his hand toward you. "There is an emergency… You know, with Han, very urgent."

"Who's this? And who's Han?"

"I already told you who Han is," you roll your eyes, grabbing Changbin’s hand and rising from your seat. "Maybe if you stopped talking about yourself for a second then you'd remember."

Changbin places a couple of bills on the table, a polite smile on his face. "For the dinner", he says, before pulling you outside with him.

"What was that?" you chuckle as soon as you're out. Changbin doesn't let go of your hand as you walk to his car, and you can't find it in you to drop it.

"What?" he giggles, "did you not like my acting skills?"

"Did you have to shout my name from across the restaurant?" you playfully punch his shoulder and he feigns a wince.

"I had to be convincing," he nods solemnly, opening the door for you. His hand rests on the top of the car, ensuring you don't bump your head while getting in.

"Here," Changbin hands you a pair of slippers from the backseat, and you furrow your brows in confusion. "I assumed you'd be wearing heels and your feet are probably tired, so I brought you this," he explains, and you are suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the car that's hiding your crimson blush.

"So, tell me, what did they do? Do I need to beat them up?" Changbin asks once more and you groan, leaning your head against the car window.

"They're so... pretentious. The only thing they care about is themselves, their career and their achievements. They even tried to downplay mine so they'd feel better about themselves."

"It's their loss honestly, for wasting a date with someone like you."

"You're the only one who thinks so," you smile sadly, trailing your fingers across your knee.

"What do you mean?" he asks, turning his body around to give you his undivided attention.

"This is my fourth bad date in a row. I think I'm just destined for horrible relationships," you try to joke, but it did weigh heavily on you. Was there something wrong in you that prompted everyone to treat you so lowly?

"You are very smart and witty and interesting. I like talking to you, especially about things you are passionate about. It's their loss for not seeing it. Doesn't mean you are any less incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine conviction.

A surge of emotion pulses through you, your heart beating wildly in your chest like a bird fluttering its wing to break free from its cage. You've always thought Changbin was all these things as well, but you never knew he held you with the same regard.

"Thank you," you beam at him, "for this and for coming to pick me up."

"Don’t mention it," he responds with a warm smile before sudden mischief dances in his eyes. "You know what? We should go on a date right now."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"A fake date," he clarifies and your heart chips a little more at your foolish hope. "So you'd see how well you deserve to be treated."

"You don't have to do that," you shake your head. 'You shouldn't do that', you wanted to add, 'it’s hard enough to forget about you'.

"I want to," he insists, his assurance evident in his smile. He leans in, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt, bringing his face mere inches from yours. His cologne envelops you, trapping you in a web carefully woven by him. It was unfair- for him to smell this nice and not be yours.

"You look pretty," he compliments, his penetrating gaze locked with yours as the seatbelt finally clicks into place.

"Is this how you start all your dates," you chuckle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"No, I'm just saying the truth," he replies simply, starting the car and resting his hand on the back of your headrest.

"So, what are you craving?" he asks, and you sigh in defeat.

"Can we have fried chicken?"

"Of course, we can," he replies with a smile, shifting the car into reverse and leaving the parking lot.

•••••••••••

You hoped your time with Changbin would be horrible, you wished you’d feel bored or uncomfortable, just so it’d cement the idea that he wasn’t the one for you. But unsurprisingly, you had an amazing time. Your stomach ached from laughing so hard throughout the night, and there was a new found lightness in your steps as you walked around a picturesque garden.

You knew that you will revisit this night countless times, that you’d sift through every detail- every time your eyes met and every time you made him smile. That it’d keep you warm on cold nights when you’re all alone.

"Here," Changbin says, handing you a plucked rose. "You deserve a bouquet but I didn’t plan on this, I’m sorry," he smiles sheepishly and you giggle, taking it out of his hands.

"Thank you," you grin happily, before taking a step forward toward him. There, you tuck the rose behind his ear, smoothing down his hair in the process.

"I’m blushing, aren’t I?" he chuckles, bringing a hand to his flushed cheeks and you gleefully nod.

"You’re matching the rose," you point out and he shrugs happily. "Pink is my color."

You admired how Changbin didn’t shy away from his emotions, embracing them without reservation. It made you feel secure, in the sense where you’d never have to second guess his words and their truthfulness.

Changbin takes out his phone to play a soft melody, before putting it in his back pocket.

"Let's dance."

"Changbin..." you trail off. It feels bittersweet to get a taste of what you could have, of what you two could be. He'll move on, surely, going on real dates while you'd still be stuck on the way he makes you feel.

"It's part of the date package, come on."

You sigh, before grabbing his hand in yours. They fit so naturally together, and you think you can easily commit the sensation to memory- the coldness of his palm and the callouses on his finger pads. With a few more holds, you're certain you could recognize his touch among a thousand others.

Changbin raises your free hand and places it on his shoulder, before holding your waist gently, swaying you from left to right.

Being with him felt like pressing on a blueish bruise, a pleasurable pain you would willingly endure to have him by your side. You're already in his arms, you told yourself. Maybe you should tune out the thoughts in your head berating you, and finally follow what your heart wants.

You suck in a deep breath, before tentatively leaning your head on his chest. He immediately brings his hand to your hair, smoothing it down gently. His chest is broad, serving as a shield for the delicate emotions flowing within him. Because Changbin is gentle with everything he does and everyone he meets. And you'd settle for this, for being his fake date if it meant experiencing his gentleness for the rest of your life.

"Can I tell you something?" you say after a while.

"Sure."

"I think this is the nicest date I've ever been on. I wish all of them were like this."

"They could be if you want to."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always liked you, yn. From the moment I’ve met you,” he confesses easily, and his words feel like the hands of an expert violinist, tugging at your vulnerable heartstrings.

He likes you, you aren't alone in this feeling, and for a second, raw happiness courses through you at this thought. But it's fleeting, like the sugar rush you'd get when you eat too much sweets. And so it naturally wears off, as the consequences of his words dawn on you.

"Changbin, we shouldn't," you shake your head vehemently and he frowns. "Why?"

"Because you're my brother's best friend." The excuse streams from your mouth instantly.

"But I'm still Changbin. Your Changbin if you'll have me," he adds softly.

"Han will find it weird, and if we don't work out then your friendship with him will become strained and-"

"Why are you thinking about everyone but yourself?" He interrupts. "Don’t you want this?"

A few silent beats pass by, and Changbin doesn't stop swaying you around, his gentle place lulling your heart to calmness, clearing the foggy thoughts in your mind.

"I do," you finally admit, and a smile lightens up his face instantly. It's so bright that it makes you second-guess the words you're about to say. "But I don't want to risk our friendship too."

"Love is a risk, I understand, I agree. But what's the alternative, yn? if it's not having you at all then I'd risk it," he drops your waist, his hands cradling your face tenderly. "You are worth the risk to me."

You’ve stopped dancing, the music long forgotten by you. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

"What if we things don't workout?"

"What if they do, hm? we can never really know until we try. And i want to try with you. Please, give us a chance?" he smiles at you, his vulnerability on full display. He's offering you his heart on a silver platter, not caring if you'll safely guard it or pierce it through, as long as it's yours.

You gaze into his warm brown eyes, before glancing at his tousled hair and the rose tucked behind his ear. And your fear doesn't matter anymore, not in the face of the man in front of you.

"You have amazing convincing skills. Have you ever considered being a diplomat?" you tease and his eyes widen slightly. "Is this a yes? are you saying yes?"

"I am," you giggle, an uncontrollable smile drawn on your lips. "And... I've always liked you too. I think Han might've suspected it because whenever I brought you up, he glared at me," you confess with a laugh, as Changbin presses a soft kiss on your wrist. Right where your pulse is. Beating wildly for him.

"He’ll have to deal with it. Now tell me, is tomorrow at 6 pm good for you?"

"What for?" you giggle, as he waltzes you around once more, a cheeky smile adorning his face.

"Our first real date, of course.”

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elektramustdie · 9 months ago

Text

dreams do come true

"Fuck, just like that."

It's the middle of the night when you begin to stir, a small ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable couch you and your roommate had fallen asleep on some hours ago, your eyes hesitantly and sleepily blinking open.

A soft glow of light from the television hardly illuminates the dark living room, a small yawn escaping your lips. A few incoherent mumbles continue to escape your best friend's lips, a slew of stifled moans and shifting limbs following them.

Peeking over your shoulder, you can barely make out the pale boy's features, his eyelids fluttered shut and lips slightly agape. "So good-“

"gerard?" You nudge his bare arm with your elbow, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks at the quick realization he's having a far from innocent dream. You try again, with a bit more force, despite the exhaustion coursing through you from the lack of sleep. "Gee."

“Hm?" the black haired boy suddenly blinks awake, slightly panicked as he sits himself up, eyes hazy and distant. "What's wrong?"

You stifle a giggle at his wild hair and confused expression, his chest still heaving slightly from his startled state. "Nothing's wrong," you say, "You woke me up."

“Oh," a pink hue washes over him, swallowing a thick lump forming in his throat, blinking away the images left behind from his stupid little dream about his pretty roommate. "Sorry. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Uh," you crane your neck, narrowing your eyes to catch sight of the small digital clock on the stove not far from you. "Half past three."

"Shit," Gerard quietly hisses, shuffling underneath the knitted blanket covering you both, feeling a bit restricted in his jeans. With each blink of his eyes he can't stop picturing the sinful sight he'd been dreaming about. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, backside still pressed against the boy's clothed thigh, thinking nothing of the position. A small smirk however twitches at your lips. "Dreaming about that girl again?" you tease, pushing your lips to the side.

Gerard shoots you a glare, clearly unamused by your attempt at a joke, though his heart skips a beat at the simple idea that you knew what type of dream was unfolding behind his eyelids. "No, lyn z’s annoying."

"I thought you said that eliza was annoying?" your brow quirks, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

"I said eliza’s obnoxious," he clarifies with a simple scoff, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, muscles flexing and catching your attention, "Why do you care anyway?"

Your breath hitches momentarily, affected unfamiliarly by the simple sight. You’ve seen Gerard shirtless a million times - hell, you've cuddled on this very couch on more than one occasion. Platonically, of course.

You ignore the blush on your cheeks and the small frustration bubbling in your stomach from his question, "I don't," you shrug, though he isn't convinced, "I'd just rather not be woken up by your stupid wet dreams."

Gerard’s eyes quickly widen, lips parting in slight shock at the confrontation, though he doesn't utter a single word to defend himself. You just offer a simple soft laugh before getting up from the couch, fetching the two of you a glass of water.

When you return, Gerard’s jeans impossibly tighten at your attire, your crooked little tank top and sleeping shorts, unknowingly bunched at the tops of your smooth tanned thighs.

Never had Gerard looked at you, his best friend of nearly ten years in a sexual or romantic way, but the absence of a bra on your upper half and the little patch of exposed skin between the hemline of your tank top and waistline of your shorts has him on the brink of drooling.

"Hello, Earth to Gee," your hand waves in front of the boy's eyes, blinking out of his terrible, terrible thoughts to see you standing at the end of the couch, a glass of water in your palm. "You alright?"

A shaky hand reaches for the glass, nearly spilling the liquid all over his lap as he desperately brings it to his lips, chugging the contents in almost record time. Your brow raises curiously.

"You got that worked up over a dream?" You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, legs criss-crossed while you sip on your own glass of water, no idea the effect you have on the pale boy at this moment. "Damn, Gee, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

"Shut up," he exhales loudly, placing the now empty glass on the side table, raking a hand over his face. God, why now? Why in the hell is he having inappropriate dreams about his best fucking friend? "Drop it." Gerard shoots you a stern glare, only fueling you further.

A mischievous smile appears on your lips, quickly disappearing as you compose yourself, feigning innocent curiosity. "Let me guess," you start softly, pretending to ponder, "Doggy? No, that wouldn't rile you up," you shake your head quickly, fingers tapping on the side of your glass, "Reverse cowgirl."

"Y/N." he mutters through gritted teeth, white knuckling the arm of the couch, fearful to glance at you. "Stop."

"What?" you giggle quietly, "Oh come on, don't go all innocent on me now," your eyes roll playfully, "Not like I haven't heard it all before."

"I'm serious," Gerard grumbles, trying to regulate his breaths but struggles, nearly full fucking mass in his jeans now. Thankfully the knitted blanket bunched in his lap prevents you from realizing how fucking turned on he is. "Cut it out."

Gerard chooses the wrong moment to glance at you, just as you’re leaning towards the opposite end of the couch to place your half empty glass on the other side table, giving the pale boy a perfect view of your backside. Fucking hell.

"You're no fun," you pout, turning back to him and meeting his darkened eyes, barely visible from the glow of the television. To this, your breath falters, noticing his tense demeanor. "What?"

"Go to bed." he suddenly says, not bothering to break eye contact between you two, watching as your tempting little lips part in genuine confusion. Had you pushed too far? Crossed a line?

"gee, I was just teasing-"

Gerard’s eyes narrow at you, almost menacingly, enough to make you choke down your words. "Y/N, if you're not in your bed in the next thirty seconds I'm going to do something we can never come back from."

To the boy’s surprise, you stay put. Not out of fear, or worry that you’ve done something wrong, but because you’re simply curious. Folding your hands in your lap, you remain silent, awaiting the boy's reaction with nervously pursed lips.

His hazel eyes flicker to those little fucking shorts, hardly covering you, and stifles a groan. "Come here," he says lowly, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. Hesitantly, you slowly crawl the short distance before sitting beside him on your knees. "God damnit, Y/N."

"What?" you ask, nearly a whisper, unaware of the effect you have on him. "Look, if I went too far I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

"Gerard-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N," gerard sighs frustratedly, tearing his eyes from yours, "Do you not get it?"

"Get what?" your fingers anxiously tap on the tops of your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek, filled with worry.

"My dream wasn't about lynz or fucking eliza," he scoffs, turning to face you again, his adam's apple bobbing slowly,

"It was about you."

Your breath hitches. Are you still half asleep? Did Gerard really say-

"Me?" you whisper before quickly shaking your head, "Gee, that's not funny, okay? I don't know what game you're playing-"

Your words cease when a warm, calloused hand finds your thigh, gripping the soft skin firmly. "I'm not fucking with you," he tells you, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but those goddamn shorts of yours aren't helping right now."

Swallowing the thick lump of nerves in your throat, the words falling from your lips aren't remotely close to what Gerard could have ever predicted. "So do something about it."

"Oh fuck me," a low groan leaves gerard’s throat, tossing his head back momentarily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

And suddenly Gerard’s hand is on the back of your head, pulling you toward him forcefully to claim your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. You instantly melt into him, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his chapped lips from the bowl you’d shared hours ago.

Gerard doesn't hesitate to swipe his tongue along your lower lip, pushing your kiss deeper as you brace yourself by grasping at his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips, which Gerard is eager to swallow.

The boy’s unoccupied hand finds your hip easily, thumb firmly pressing against the bone there, his remaining fingers digging into the fabric of your pathetic excuse for shorts. Your hips instinctively roll at the contact.

Gerard regretfully pulling away, both of you adorning swollen, pink lips and flushed cheeks, even in the low light of the television it was quite obvious. "Fuck, you have no idea-"

"Me too," you cut him off in a whisper, eyes flickering between his and his intoxicating lips. "Gee-"

"Fuck, what've we done?" he mumbles more so to himself, though he doesn't retract his hands and you don’t bother to tell him to. "Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up," you shake your head, free hand grasping at the chain looped around his bare neck and pulling him forward, claiming his lips just as he had done to yours previously. He doesn't protest when you sling a leg over his lap, thighs settled on either side of his, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

When your lips part, his eyes hesitantly flicker between yours and your new position, your hips flush against his own. "Are you- are you sure?"

You shyly nod. A groan of disapproval leaves Gerard’s lips, his grip tightening on the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer to him as if your chests hadn't been brushing the entire time. "Yeah, silence doesn't work for me, baby"

"Yes," you breathe out, clenching your thighs desperately, "Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Gee. Please-"

"Fuck," he grits out, hips bucking against your center, "So fuckin' needy for me, aren't you?" When your eyes widen at his words, Gerard’s lips twitch into a sly, crooked smirk, filled to the brim with satisfaction. He tugs the strands between his fingers again. "Aren't you?"

"Yes- fuck."

The hand not grasping your hair retreats to your upper thigh, thumb resting in the crease there, fingernails digging into your soft skin and forcing his clothed length against your sensitive center. "Feel that, sweetheart?" Gerard’s tone lowers, fighting the urge to moan at the feeling alone, as he breaths low and slow against your lips, taunting you, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

“Please," you helplessly whimper in response, eyelids tempting to flutter shut at the simple feeling, Gerard’s cock twitching in the confinement of his jeans at your sinful little plea. Never in his life had he imagined a scenario with you like this becoming a reality.

Gerard quickly taps your thigh so you’ll raise yourself, allowing him to kick off the thin knitted blanket on his lap, exposing the outline of his achingly hard length in his fitted jeans, the boy’s jaw tensed so hard his teeth begin to ache. He can't fucking begin to imagine how good you’re going to feel wrapped around him.

His ringed fingers fumble with the button and fly of his dark jeans, too fucking anxious to finally set his cock free. He leaves them pooled around his knees carelessly, his fitted black boxers following suit. A soft hiss leaves Gerard’s lips at the release. You, however, are at a loss for words.

"You-" you breathlessly choke out, unable to look away from his length, eyes widened and suddenly feeling a stir in your stomach. "There's no fucking way, Gee-"

“What, am I too big for you?" Gerard teases in a low tone, a sickening little smirk on his lips, head cocked to the side. "You don't think you can handle it?"

As you’re shaking your head and finally tearing your eyes away, you meet his gaze, hesitant. "I- I don't know-"

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle before his hands are on your hips again, pulling your clothed center flush with his exposed length, ghosting his lips against yours. "Too fuckin' bad, sweetheart, you're gonna take it and I don't wanna hear a single fucking complaint."

A low, drawn out whimper escapes your poor lips, swallowing your nerves while

Gerard continues to jut his hips. "Yes, sir." the words fall from your mouth before you can even process them.

"Ah, what a good girl, hm?" the boy hums against your lips, "Gonna fuck you so good, dollface I promise."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

"Goddamn," he pulls away slightly, so fucking hard he's nearly on the brink of orgasm from the simple word alone, ringed fingers retracting from your hip to the thin, stretchy material of your shorts, sliding between your thigh and the fabric until his forefinger finds the dampened material of your underwear. "You want me that fucking bad? Hm? Had to go and get this fucking wet for me?"

"Gerard-"

"Fucking pathetic," he scoffs, sending a shock straight to your spine as he slowly teases his finger against you, pressing firmly against your clit like some fucking expert. "Can't wait to watch you sink down on my cock."

You’re already a fucking mess and he's barely touched you, fingers grasping at the thin underwear and sliding them to the side, Gerard’s free hand preparing himself and pressing his tip against you. "So fuckin' wet, don't need nothin' else."

You suck in a deep, loud breath as Gerard begins to push inside, giving you no mercy as his hands find your hips yet again and force you down his entire length, your hands grasping desperately onto his broad shoulders. "Fuck-" you cry out, eyes pinching shut at the sudden stretch. "Oh my-"

"S'okay baby," he coos softly, thumbs pressing firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving bruises there you'll find in the morning."M'gonna take good care of you."

Your fingernails absentmindedly dig into his pale skin, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. You’d never felt so full.

"Please, Gee-" your throat suddenly runs dry, eyes flying open as he uses the grip on your hips to pull your body upwards, forcing your back down onto his length roughly. "Fuck-"

"Quiet," he interjects curtly, "Want you to take my fucking cock the way I give it to you. Cry all you want, sweet girl”

The pain of the stretch doesn't last long, thankfully, though each rough thrust of Gerard’s hips has your vision blurring, the sound of his thighs smacking against the back of yours bouncing off the walls of your quiet shared apartment.

You adjust to the boy’s deep, rough rhythm, the fabric of your flimsy little tank top settling just below your breasts, catching Gerard’s eye. Managing to continue his pace, his teeth capturing this bottom lip, one of his hands slides the fabric further until they're both exposed to him.

“Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts softly, wetting his bottom lip due to the tempting fucking sight of you sinking down on his cock like the good fucking girl you are. He cups one of them, a whimper leaving your mouth amidst mumbled curses. "You feel so fucking good on my cock."

"Gerard-“

"Say it, baby. Fucking say it."

"Sir, please-"

"Fuck," he grits his teeth for the millionth time, the word never growing old as it reaches his ears, before he's suddenly halting, pressing his hips firmly against you until you’re nearly out of breath. So goddamn deep.

It takes less than a second before he's pushing you onto your back, still connected and instead of grasping your hips his hands find your knees, pressing your thighs flush against your chest.

Gerard sucks in a quick breath, standing on his knees as his jeans are still pooled around them, restricting him slightly but he simply doesn't give a fuck right now. Slowly retracting his cock, he keeps his eyes on your pretty little lips as he pushes his hips forward suddenly, hitting an entirely new spot and causing a borderline scream to leave your mouth.

“Fuck-" you gasp, lips parting. thighs already shuddering from one fucking thrust. This only heightens the boy’s satisfaction, ignoring the small beads of sweat that begin to accumulate on his forehead. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Fuckin' told you," Gerard grunts, a white knuckle grip on your knees, preventing any pushback you attempted to give as your thighs shake beneath his hold, "Told you I'd fuckin' ruin you, didn't I?"

"Y-yes-"

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he rasps, throat nearly raw from the groans and moans he continues to stifle, "Feelin' me so goddamn deep inside of you?"

“Gee, please- so- so deep-"

"Yeah, baby," instead of gripping both of your knees, Gerard decides to rest his forearm against them to keep you in place, snaking his free hand between your thighs, attaching his thumb to your sensitive clit, a desperate little whimper leaving you. "You're doin' such a good job, takin' me so well."

You instinctively clench around him, causing a hiss to leave his lips, eyelids falling shut at the overstimulation. "I'm- oh fuck-"

“That's it," he responds lowly, not slowing down his harsh, deep thrusts, rendering you nearly breathless. "Come on, fuckin' cum all over my cock."

"Sir- I-"

“Fuck," Gerard grunts, continuing his quick firm movements against your swollen, sensitive clit, as you clench harder and harder around his cock. "Good fucking God, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

"Please, please cum with me-" you ramble helplessly, eyes flying open and meeting Gerard’s darkened eyes, his breaths growing ragged and chest so fucking tight from the sight of desperation on your face. "Please."

Gerard’s thrusts grow sloppily, orgasm building quickly. lower lip tucked between his teeth. One last particularly deep thrust, hitting that goddamn special little spot has you gasping for breath. Feeling your release coat his length, he finally lets go, hips stuttering to a slow pace, eventually stopping all together.

Both of you adorn heaving chests as the sound of your breaths echo the living room, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Y/N-"

"Holy shit, Gerard," You manage to choke out, every goddamn inch of your body now sore, choking back a whimper as the blonde slowly slips out of you. "I didn't- fuck."

"Didn't what?" Gerard asks, just as breathless, knees reddened from the friction against the sofa, tugging his boxers up his thighs and tucking himself inside of them. "Are you okay?"

"There's no goddamn way we can ever be friends," You slowly slink your knees down, feet flat on the couch's cushion. Gerard’s lips pull into a frown at your words, about to interject before a little laugh escapes you. "Not if you fuck like that."

Gerard playfully smacks your thigh, "You fuckin' scared me, Y/N, don't do that," he leans forward to hover over you, eyeing the snide little grin on your pretty lips. "Come on, if you shower with me I'll reward you for bein' so good."

Your dazed eyes blink slowly, watching Gerard smile admiringly down at you. You both know there's no coming back from this, no way you’ll ever be just friends again.

And you don't mind one bit.

"The only way I'm showering with you is if you carry me, I'm fucking wrecked."

"I think that can be arranged."

#smut fic #emo #x reader smut #my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way x reader #gerard way

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felikatze · 4 months ago

Text

listen to me. the Emblems are living existential horror. I am just going to talk about them and you can do nothing about this.

They are. Explicitly. not the people they seem to be. Emblem Marth knows he's not the real Marth. He's aware that he is simply a simulacrum, the personified image of Marth, as seen by myth and history, reconstructed into a person.

Listen to me. Look me in the eyes. What route is Corrin? What route is Byleth?

All of them. It's ALL OF THEM. And that's why they're so vague. That's why they're nigh contradictory. They're every telling of that character, rolled together into a ball.

And in Elyos? That's fine. There is only one Marth, and one Corrin, and one whoever Emblem. But you see, in Askr... There's so many of them. And they're just Another One. Just Another Marth.

But also, now suddenly all too keenly fake.

Any given Corrin in FEH is not filled with contradiction, because FEH is not restricted to having Just the One - you can have one for BR, one for CQ, another for Rev, keep some vague... The multiplicity of the characters can be portrayed in different figures in different stages of life.

But. the Emblems are just "stories".

DOES ANY EMBLEM EVER REFERENCE POSTCANON?

My theory is. the Emblems only remember what is contained in their story, within their game.

Take for example, Emblem Lyn, and Emblem Roy. If Lyn truly is the Lyn-- how come she doesn't recognize one of her best friend's children?

And yes, Sigurd is keenly aware that he dies, but... His death is part of the story, no? It's not something that happens far off and far away, it's part of the plot. Of course he's going to know it.

Whereas Emblem Hector, who dies in a different game to his Emblem's origin, is blissfully unaware of his own fate. It's not part of his story, it's part of Roy's.

(Listen. This first crossed my mind when I read all of Emblem Hector's bond conversations. He references Serra thrice, and his own daughter not even ONCE.)

They are their games, down to the fundamental level. FEH can have a Celica be Queen of Valentia, but that's just one blurb of epilogue, so obviously Emblem Celica is not.

You cannot change my mind on this reading of them. You cannot.

And. The game of course never explores this. But how does it feel for them? To only have this nebulous sense of identity? To remember and feel iterations of you that contradict one another? FEH opens so many doors it is too cowardly to explore in depth.

How does Marth feel remembering both versions of his own past, one with Kris and one without? How does Corrin feel knowing every path she has walked? How do they feel seeing versions of themselves that are specific lived experiences, instead of just legends?

In Elyos, there is no one to contrast them. There are only the legends, only the Emblems. Nobody truly remembers exactly how their stories went, so they never need to specify and show their version of events. They just exist, as the holy, powerful, worshipped Emblems.

Does Lucina know who her mother is? Does Roy? Does Lyn know who she marries? Does Hector know he's going to die? Does Byleth see every student dead or saved?

They are their games and they are every version of their games they are every version of themselves which amounts to being NONE of them.

Which amounts to vague platitudes and allusions to other events and what is a doylist fear of spoilers and an advertisement is also a watsonian nightmare.

This isn't even the worst thing about them.

They're not just simulacra. They're also tools. Literal objects to be called upon and dismissed at will. Sure, in the Somniel, they can move around. But.

They can only affect the physical world in the arena. In combat. Because that's what they are! They are tools of war!

And sure, the divine dragons ask them nicely for their powers, and they get to keep their free will when summoned this way instead of having their souls subjugated.

or well. Do they...?

Do we ever.... see an Emblem say no...?

Of course, the divine dragons are Just and Good and Nice. Obviously the Emblems want to aid them. Obviously the Emblems would rather fight beside Alear than Sombron, saving the world they've been entrusted to. Because the Emblems are their stories, the manifestation of Good and Rightous Heroes, always ready to save the day and slay evil.

Which, of course, leaves us with something unconfirmed.

Could an Emblem say no if it wanted to?

The line between divine and fell is dangerously thin. (That is a conspiracy rant for another day.) Like, we see Alear combine prayers and incantations into one package with just prayer effects. You can use an incantation as a prayer if you put your mind to it and you can probably also do it the other way around.

The Emblems either have no choice at all, or are given a choice with one option they would never pick, which renders having a choice moot in the first place.

They are tools, and they know this. They are swords, and it's all a matter of how nice the sheath is.

And yet. All of them remember being human. All of them have loved ones that do not exist, not for them. And what strikes me about the Emblems added to FEH so far... they're all universally stoked to be able to eat.

It's like a fucking sensory deprivation chamber. Unable to touch, to eat, to decide where you go, and the only physical sensation they DO feel is when someone touches their ring. Like I'm realizing this as I write this goddamn post. An Emblem going "That spot was bothering me" when being polished is the only time they ever express physical sensation. Like feeling the dirt on the metal is all they get.

(Side note: you know you're fucked when you look up the petting minigame for Lore)

Like. They know they're fake. That they never had anything outside of this half existence. But they remember it anyways. Of course these memories are going to be precious to them, as vague and muddled and contradictory as they are.

They're tools. They're literal objects. They're alive. They just want to eat some good food again. They want to be with people they love, with people that are long dead and gone.

And this weird spirit existence has to be enough. Smell good food instead of eating it. Make friends with your wielders, enjoy the scarce scenery you get to witness after every battle.

It has to be enough. There's nothing else for them.

And when their duty is done, they can finally rest.

#feli speaks #fire emblem #fire emblem engage #I THINK ABOUT EMBLEMS. A LOT.

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ficeacs · 3 months ago

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Dragons Fight, Little Light (Chapter 1)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC Synopsis: Dragons love a chase. Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Violence, Targcest, Begins with HOTD S1, Not Proofread Word Count: 5,330 Previous Chapter

Eraena found little sleep that night. Her mind wondered if her uncle was telling the truth or was trying to get a raise from her. Was she really thought of as the promiscuous princess of Dragonstone? Well, she knew that many knew of her ventures to the village near the keep in Dragonstone but she did no wrong other than sneaking out. Eraena lay and stared at the ceiling, trying to convince herself she had not done anything wrong. The realm already saw her as a bastard; she feared that they would also see her as a whore, even though her honor stayed intact. Eraena groaned and covered her head with a pillow.

When morning came, Eraena was groggy from the lack of sleep, though the bath drew for her helped her wake. “What dress will it be today, princess?” Lyn asked, and Eraena thought for a moment. “That one,” she pointed to a dress of strong blue that fashioned her skills in embroidery once more. A chain of sapphires hung around her waist, a gift her father had given her. Eraena ventured into the halls of the keep with a box in her hands. She headed towards her Aunt’s apartments.

“Princess Eraeana, your Highnesses.” The girl tried to hide her distaste when she saw Aemond. The prince had caused quite the commotion last night, why could he not let a wholesome family moment be? Eraena licked her lips and turned to Helaena with a small smile on her lips. “Good morning,” She greeted and headed towards the princess. “Oh, Eraena, so good of you to visit me,” the princess smiled.

“Of course, and I came bearing gifts,” Eraena said, placing the box on a nearby table, which Helaena made her way to. “Open it,” she said and smiled at the look of giddiness Helaena was trying to surpass. “Oh my,” she whispered. I had the resident entomologist in Dragonstone curate a collection for you of rare insects that only inhabit the island,” Eraena explained and checked the box to see if everything was in order as she had instructed. The princess had figurines in her hands for the children, but her uncle still sat with them; she thought it better that she would give it to them later when he had left.

Avoid him; do not engage. The girl reminded herself she could not afford to cause trouble once more, especially with her Mother in such a state. “Are those for the children?” Helaena asked softly, eyeing the three wood figurines that Eraena had practically forced Lucerys to make. Eraena had spent days meticulously painting a princess, a knight, and a dragon. “Oh, yes, Lucerys had carved them for the children,” Eraena said, and Helaena took her hands to inspect the toys. “He painted them too?” She asked, pale fingers tracing the figurines. “Well, no, I painted them.” She smiled.

“Come, let me introduce you to my children,” She said with a ghost of a smile. Aemond was still seated on the floor with the twins, both Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, on his lap. Eraena avoided her eyes from the prince, fearing it would entice him to tease and torment her. Helaena crouched down, and Eraena cautiously did the same. Five purple eyes turned to the girl, “This is your cousin, Eraena,” Helaena said to the twins and if Eraena were to look at the elder prince, she would see him roll his lone eye. Eraena felt her lips twitch when the twins hurriedly left their uncle’s lap and made their way to her. The look of shock and annoyance that adorned the prince’s face amused the princess, but she quickly turned away and focused on the babes in front of her.

Jaehaera clung quickly to the princess and Eraena let out a laugh on how the young princess found her way to sit on her lap like she did on her uncle earlier. “They like you already!” Helaena mussed and watched as her children switched from their uncle to their cousin. Eraena gave the princess figurine to little Jaehaera and the knight figurine to little Jaehaerys. “You have a third child, do you not?” Eraena asked and brushed the little blonde hairs away from the babe’s eyes. “Yes, Maelor, but he is still fast asleep.” Eraena nodded and returned her attention to the babes.

She would expect Jaehaera’s attention would be on the new toy but Eraena saw purple eyes on the necklace on her neck. “I—I want,” Jaehaera mumbled and tried to grab the emerald pendant that was gifted to her on her most recent name day. Eraena’s eyes widened as Jahaera pulled on the necklace, making the elder princess jerk her head forward. “Jahaera, no!” Her mother said and came to Eraena’s aid. “I’m sorry, I—“ Eraena smiled, “It’s fine; my younger brother, Viserys, has the same habit.” She said and moved to unclasp the pendant so the young princess could inspect it more. When Jaehaera had the pendant in her hands, a toothy grin spread across her face, making Eraena laugh at the adorable face of the younger princess. She surpassed the urge to pinch the cherubic cheeks and turned to Jaehaerys, who now played with both figurines.

It was then that Eraena remembered that there was another party amongst them. Her obsidian eyes found a lilac one. “Do you not have to train, brother?” Helaena asked. The prince’s eyes moved to his sister, and he silently shook his head. “Really? You are often in the tiltyard at this hour,” Helaena mumbled, “Yes, won’t Cole miss you terribly, uncle?” Eraena did not even realize the teasing words escaped her lips. Once she did, she felt her hands grow cold. Aemond was ready to throw yet another disparaging word to the girl but Helaena was quick to speak. “Tea!” She said, and the two turned to her. “Eraena, would… would you like to join me for tea?” She asked, and her invitation was quickly accepted. They handed the children to a nurse and made their way into the gardens. The emerald pendant was long forgotten.

“Oh, I’ve missed you terribly. It became dreadfully lonely these past years,” Helaena said truthfully. The princess sensed melancholy in her eyes and tone. I know what you mean, especially when you are mostly surrounded by brothers. I was lucky to have Rhaena. No matter, I am here now,” Eraena smiled, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Sister, there you are!” Jacaerys’ voice intervened. “Oh, Jace, join us, will you?” Helaena asked softly, and Eraena's brother obliged, taking his seat across from his sister. There was an awkward silence that enveloped the group. The one-eyed prince had followed the two princesses and sat across from his sister. A knight arrived, and Eraena thought maybe he was there to call over the other prince and save the group from tension. “A letter from Dragonstone, princess,” Eraena was handed a scroll of parchment with a seal she knew all too well; the girl tried her best to hide the blooming smile on her lips, remembering her brother was seated across from her.

“Dragonstone? Who writes to you from Dragonstone? We’re all here.” Jace asked with a raised brow as Helaena turned to Eraena with an intrigued look. “No one. None of importance,” Eraena says and hides the scroll from her brother’s view. “Hm,” she heard a hum coming from the left, making her turn to Aemond, whose eye had been on the scroll. Eraena prayed, prayed to the gods that her brother would not question the scroll once more, and prayed that the burning gaze of a lilac eye would stop. Eraena tried to ignore the man on her left and listen to the conversation between Helaena and Jacaerys. Avoid him; do not engage. She told herself once more.

When tea had ended, Eraena found herself with her sisters. “How long are we still to stay here? The trial had already ended. I doubt anyone else would question Driftmark’s line of succession after yesterday’s events.” Eraena asked the two. “Itching to go back to Dragonstone now, are we?” Rhaena teased, and Eraena let a smirk slip on her lips. “As a matter of fact, yes! I miss my room, the beds in here are quite lumpy. The sun is too hot; I miss roaming around without being judged! And I miss my other dresses and—“ She was cut off by Baela. “And Arthur,” She snickered, and Eraena rolled her eyes. “No! Well… yes, but I mostly miss my other dresses and jewelry.” She sighed and traced the flower patterns of her gown. “He sent me a letter,” Eraena then said, which intrigued the two girls.

Eraena looked around. They were still in the gardens, seated on a bench in a spot that not many passed. She took the scroll from her pocket and broke its seal. The two girls hovered over their sister's shoulder and read its contents.

My, Dearest, Eraena.

How are you, my flower? It has only been two days since you left, yet the island already feels so desolate without your radiant presence. The sun's rays seem dimmer, and the vibrant colors of your flowers are starting to fade; they are missing your touch. How long are you to stay there? Have the people of Kingslanding fared nicely to you, my princess?

I long for your return, yearning for the day when you shall grace us with your presence once more. It would seem that my heart longs to rest its gaze upon you. Come back soon to me.

Yours,

Arthur.

Baela and Rhaena smiled at the blush on Eraena’s cheeks. “My flower,” Rhaena teased, making Eraena roll her eyes. “Must be nice to be sent a letter with such… flowery words,” Baela said. “Jacaerys’ letters only contained about health and the weather, sometimes a story about his ventures with Vermax but never like…” Baela drifted. “Aye, Jacaerys was never one for words.” Eraena agreed and took her sister’s hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

In the afternoon, Eraena changed into her riding leathers. A wheelhouse delivered her to the pits, where her dragon awaited her excitedly. “Alina,” Eraena sang and waited for her dragon to reveal herself. The princess’s voice echoed through the pits, and what emerged was not her dragon but her uncle instead. Aemond had a fiery stare in his eye, and the girl wondered why he was already in such a state.

“Will you be quiet? You are disturbing the dragons with your grating voice.” Ice-cold words clashed with the fire in his eye. Eraena pursed her lips and rolled her eyes but nodded. Standing still, waiting for her dragon, she turned to her side, and Aemond stood alongside her. “Why are you here? Vhagar does not even fit here,” she asked and folded her arms across her chest. “Mind your own business, niece.” He spat.

Alina has still not emerged and Eraena was growing weary. She turned to her uncle once more; he had a torch in his hand. She thought to ask for it, so she could get Alina herself, but her mouth could not move and ask. Instead, she walked into the dark pits. “Alina,” Eraena called once more. The princess squinted her eyes in the dark. Only now did she wonder, where were the keepers? Eraena chewed on her lip and waited for the whine of her dragon; she was only met with furious footsteps and the orange hue of a torch. “What are you doing?” Aemond asked and took hold of her arm. “Trying to find my dragon.” She said as if it were the most obvious thing. “You do not go into the pits,”

“Hm, were you not the one who often got into trouble for constantly venturing here?” She asked innocently, remembering an instance from their childhood. The ground shook, and they turned to the she-dragon with pearly white scales that shimmered gold in the light. “Hello, my love!” Eraena said giddily and practically skipped toward her dragon. Alina bent her head toward the girl, who placed a kiss upon its snout. Eraena inspected the mighty beast, trailing her hand upon the scales. She checked the breastplate that secured her saddle, a breastplate made of gold and dragon glass.

Alina growled lowly as her obsidian eyes, eyes like her rider, landed upon the prince. “Lykiri. Lykiri, Alina.” Eraena murmured and stroked her dragon’s snout. “It would seem you agitate my dragon, uncle,” Eraena observed as she made her way to her saddle. She turned to the prince who seemed to have a contest of stares with the beast. “Do not mind the small man, Alina,” Eraena said in ancient tongue and stroked its neck. “If you would, uncle, please step aside. Would not want you to get trampled on, however tempting it is.” Eraena said. She watched as Aemond huffed and was certain that he mouthed the words ‘spoiled bastard’ under his breath, but Eraena could no longer find care; she was to fly!

Alina soared through the skies, and Eraena smiled widely, seeing Kingslanding grow farther and farther away. Alina ascended higher, and the familiar feeling of liquid in Eraena’s stomach returned, and she felt her heart pace faster. Alina liked to toy with her rider, flying as high as the heavens and then dropping back quickly to earth. “Alina!” Eraena shouted in glee as Alina flew downwards. Another roar of a dragon took Eraena’s attention, and she felt her stomach fill with dread as she saw Vhagar heading towards them. “Higher, Alina.” Eraena quickly commanded. Scared of the mighty beast her uncle rode. The princess turned back and still saw the dragon behind them.

For what seemed like hours, Eraena tried to find ways to avoid the two beasts. Stirring Alina in every direction, she tried hard not to let her fear shine through, knowing her dragon would feel it through the bond. Eraena sighed and decided that maybe she should stop flying. The girl felt annoyance surge through her as she returned to the pits once more. She sullenly removed her riding gloves and entered the wheelhouse, wholly upset at Aemond for ruining her ride.

When afternoon came, the princess found herself in the library scanning through the books she had read from childhood. Countless tales of princesses and knights, wizards and kings. Little Aegon’s name day was approaching, and Eraena thought it a good present that she made one of her favorite stories into an illustrated book for her younger brother. Little Aegon loved her paintings and illustrations, often sitting on her lap as she painted back in Dragonstone. She originally wanted to write the story herself, but it was quite a large undertaking to create a story that her brother would enjoy. Eraena stared at the stack of books before her, thinking hard as to what story she would use.

“A book is to be opened and read, not stared at.” Eraena heard a cold voice cut through the stony silence of the room. Eraena turned her head to Aemond, who stood before her. The girl was still quite annoyed by his actions earlier. The princess crossed her arm across her chest once more and stared unamused at the prince. She watched as Aemond raised a blonde brow at her scowling face. “You look ghastly when you scowl,” it only made Eraena’s frown deepen as he said words that Jacaerys had said before. It made her believe that she did look ghastly with not just her brother’s testimony but as well as her uncle's. The girl started to unconsciously pout as she tried to remove the scowl on her face.

“No word for your uncle, I see,” Aemond said and took a seat across the girl. “I have no words for foolish men who would use a dragon of war to chase other riders. Do you realize how dangerous that was?” Eraena asked and sat up straight. “It was simply a jape,” Aemond reasoned, and Eraena could not help but frown once more. Since when had he been one for japes and jests?

“That is not a jape; that is how war starts, Aemond,” the girl sighed. “Do not be so dramatic, Eraena,” the prince rolled his lone eye. “I am not being dramatic! You do not use a war dragon for a simple chase! It only knows of conquest and blood!” She watched as the prince pursed his lips, thinking of a reply. “What are you even doing here?” she asked, letting annoyance seep into her tone.

“To read,” He said as if it were the most obvious thing. “Why here?” Eraena asked, and Aemond only frowned. “Because this is the library, has your stay in Dragonstone turned you into a simpleton, Eraena?” He asked, lips twitching upwards as the frown returned to the princess’ forehead. “No, what I meant was, what are you doing here, sat upon where I had sat first. There are other places for you to read.” She said and pointed to an empty nearby table and chair. She watched as Aemond turned to the spot she had pointed to, and the prince shrugged.

Eraena rolled her eyes in response and stood. Taking the stack of books and moved to the empty spot, not wanting to be near the prince. Aemond watched, amused, as the princess took a seat that had her back turned to him. He was not even sure as to why he was in the library, not quite certain as to why he was engaging with the girl. She obviously wanted to be left alone, but Aemond could not let her have what she wanted, not when her whims and wants were always met.

Eraena tried to focus on her task once more, trying hard not to turn and glare at the prince whose gaze burnt in the back of her head. For just having one eye, he surely knew how to stare someone down, the girl thought. It was quite some time as the two sat separately in silence; Eraena was done for the day, already picked a story that she would draw illustrations of, but she did not want to be the first to leave. Somehow, her pride convinced her that she should not be the one to leave first the uncomfortable presence of the room; it would be seen that she was bothered by the prince’s presence, that Aemond had the capability to unnerve her. So, she just sat there, staring blankly at an open book, pretending to read, turning its pages as if she were actually consuming literature.

“Eraena, there you are!” She heard Rheana’s voice, and the princess quickly looked up. She watched as her sister cautiously eyed the prince seated behind her. “Your… brother has been looking for you for the past hour.” She said, confused as to why it was just the two of them in the library. Eraena nodded and stood up, taking her chosen book in hand, and quickly rushed out of the room. Her pride cannot be wounded in this situation; she did not leave because of him; it was because her brother had asked for her presence!

“What were you doing alone, with Prince Aemond.” Eraena frowned at her sister’s query, “Do not word it as such! I was not alone with Aemond. I was… was simply in an empty common room… with him.” Eraena explained. “We saw you two in the skies earlier,” Rhaena said. “That idiot made his dragon chase me and Alina!” Eraena complained. “Really? It just looked like the two of you were flying around in circles; it looked quite fun.” Rhaena shrugged, and Eraena frowned; it certainly did not feel that way. “Why was Jacaerys searching for me?” Eraena asked; Rhaena shrugged.

“Sister! There you are!” Jacaerys said from the end of the hall, walking briskly toward the two. “What is it?” Eraena asked. “There is to be a hunt two days from now,” Jacaerys said, his excitement obvious. Though Eraena was at a loss as to why he had concerned her with this. “So?” She asked. “You must teach Lucerys and me to shoot again. Luc is waiting for you in the tiltyard.” Eraena looked at her brother oddly. “What? Why me? Ask Ser Harold or even Father to teach you.” “I’ve asked them, and they told me to ask you instead,” Eraena shook her head, “No, I cannot; I will be under scrutiny from the court. They already frowned upon my venture in the gardens alone; what else if I be the one who had to teach my brothers to shoot an arrow?”

“Who cares what they think? Come now, sister, you are the best archer here!” Jacaerys tried to persuade the girl. With a couple more compliments and flattery, Eraena reluctantly nodded. “Fine! But I shall only stand by the side and watch you two. I’ll make comments here and there, but I will not touch a bow or arrow.” She explained as they headed to the tiltyard. Eraena’s eyes enclosed on their younger brother who had failed to set the arrow free. Rhaena no longer followed them, not interested in watching as Eraena grew frustrated teaching the two boys.

“Straighten your back,” Eraena instructed from the side. “Keep your shoulders lax. Lucerys feet apart,” she said. “Only use your dominant eye upon the target,” “We know Eraena!” Lucerys groaned. “Do you? You have missed every time, brother.” She said, her eyes going to the failed attempts of the two. Arrows started to pile up on the dirt ground. “You are lacking force, Lucerys; readjust your shoulders,” she said, and Luc nodded. She then turned to Jacaerys, “You do not have an aim. I fear for the others joining you in the hunt.” She said and saw as her brother rolled his eyes. “Release,” she instructed.

Lucerys had not quite hit the center but at least his bow finally stuck to the target instead of just falling into the ground. Jacaerys’ arrow, however, flew to a pile of hay. “Good Luc!” Eraena said and smiled at her younger brother. “My, my, what do we have here? Training for the hunt boys?” Aegon’s voice sounded out making three dark eyes turn to the prince. “And what are you doing here, Eraena? I had never thought you were one to spend time in the tiltyard, or are you training once more on how to maim men.” Eraena tried to surpass the grin as she saw Aegon had a slight limp to him. “Just watching my brothers, uncle,” she replied.

Aegon made his way to where the princess stood. “Then let me join you, dear niece.” The elder prince stood a bit too close to Eraena and the girl was quick to step away, putting. A hearty distance between them. Her brothers turned to her and she nodded, and the two set aim once more. Once again, Lucerys lacked force, and Jacaerys lacked aim. The girl wanted to groan, growing frustrated at the two. “Feet apart, Lucerys!” Eraena cracked, not caring that Aegon was there. She went to her brother and used her foot to indicate what the younger prince’s stance should be. “And you, Jacaerys, you must close your other eye! Your vision is being split!” She groaned and used her fingers to forcefully close her brother’s eyelid. “I can’t! I physically cannot just close one eyelid!” He said, and Eraena huffed. “Might you borrow one of my brother’s eyepatches?” Aegon mused a smirk on his lips as he watched the princess scold her brothers.

Eraena turned to Aegon, considering his suggestion. She knew it to be a jest but it would solve Jacaerys’ lack of aim. “No!” Jacaerys said, seeing the look his sister held. “Well, you won’t do well in this hunt!” Eraena returned to her spot next to Aegon. “Again!” She instructed. “I must say, I never thought you to be such an authoritarian,” the elder prince said and inched closer to the princess, though it was futile as she was returning to her brother to show him the proper stance once more.

“Back straight, Lucerys, and your foot! I swear to the gods I will nail your foot if you do not keep them apart.” She warned. She now remembered why she had not been assigned to teach Joffery high Valyrian or teach anything for that matter. The girl was too impatient. “You're growing red, Eraena,” the younger prince mumbled, and his elder brother snickered. The princess threw her brother a glare. “I’ve had enough of this, I told you. You should have just asked Ser Harold,” Eraena grumbled and returned to stand next to Aegon on the side. “So impatient, little niece… Though, I think I like you better domineering.” The elder silver prince mused. Eraena turned to the prince with a disgusted look on her face, her round lips upturned, brows once again furrowed. Aegon only laughed at his niece’s face. “Do not fret, Eraena; I shall teach your brothers to shoot. Would not want to aggravate that pretty face of yours.”

The prince made his way to take the bow from Lucerys, and the younger prince turned to his sister, who nodded. The two brown-haired princes watched as their uncle took his stance. Aegon had let go of the arrow and had impressed Eraena. He was not a terrible shot. She thought. It was slightly off-centered, but it was better than any shot her brothers had made. “Luc, look at Aegon’s footing,” She instructed, and her brother mimicked their uncle’s stance. Eraena walked closer to them, Aegon ready to let go of another bow. He felt fingers upon his upper back, “Straighten your spine, Aegon; do not hunch,” Eraena instructed. He did like her better when she was giving out orders, obviously growing annoyed. “As you wish, sweet Eraena,” he said and let go of the arrow, landing it upon the center.

He turned to look at the girl, hoping to find a look of impressed on her pretty face, but she had moved her attention to her other brother. “What are you doing?” Jacaerys asked as Eraena wrapped her handkerchief around his head, covering one of his eyes. “Shoot,” Eraena instructed; her brother was hesitant but did as she told. Finally, a centered shot from Jacaerys! A look of achievement adorned her brother’s face. He made to shoot another, and a laugh escaped his lips. “This is easy!” He said, and Eraena rolled her eyes. “All right, don’t get cocky.” Eraena returned her attention to Luc. “Ready?” She asked and her younger brother gave a nod. “Release,” The bow was off-centered, but it was close enough. “Good,” Eraena said. “Just try to aim better, and do not forget your footing.” Aegon and her returned to the side, “Thank you,” she said lowly. If he had not intervened, she would have stomped off the tiltyard. Aegon nodded with a smirk on his lips, his eyes not turned to his niece but to the figure above, watching them with a burning eye.

Another supper with the entire family was held. However, the girl could not fathom why they would think it was a great idea, especially after the events of the other night. As Eraena entered the dining hall, her seat in between Jacaerys and Aegon was gone, instead, the only empty seat was next to her other uncle. The gods really love to toy with me, don’t they? The girl thought. Dinner was started with prayer once more. It would seem appetite eluded Eraena, only pushing around the food on her plate. “I saw two dragons in the skies earlier, Vhagar and Alina. Did the two of you enjoy your ride?” Alicent asked the two silent individuals to her right. Eraena peeked through her lashes to look at Aemond, his good eye on her. He made no indication to respond to his mother, so Eraena forced a tight smile on her lips. “You can say that, my queen,” she fibbed, she did not enjoy her ride, not at all. Alicent gave the girl a small smile and returned to her meal.

“I saw the prince Aegon with his nephews and niece in the tiltyard, practicing for the hunt, I assume?” The hand inquired. Eraena turned to the three, who nodded. “The princess? In the tiltyard? You are not joining the hunt, are you, Eraena?” The queen asked, almost scandalized. “I—I am not, your grace.” She replied. “Eraena was merely supervising her brothers,” Daemon interjected. “Supervising? I would not think that a princess should have been the one to teach princes a skill such as archery,” Eraena bit back her tongue and took a chalice to her lips to hinder her from speaking out of turn.

“It…gladdens my heart to see… to see you all getting along.” The king suddenly spoke. “This… this is how it should be,” Eraena could see a smile breaking upon his cracked lips. Her mother smiled and took hold of her father’s hand. Supper ended fairly quickly, unlike the other night; this held less violence. Eraena walked the hallways of the keep, alone and her mind wandering off once again. She passed by a window alcove and paused, staring up at the crescent moon before her. Eraena leaned upon the opened window and took in a deep breath, the cool night breeze fanning her face.

“It is not wise to lurk these halls at night,” she heard the cold silky voice of Aemond. “I am not one to lurk, uncle; that is your specialty if I remember correctly.” Eraena sighed and turned to the man who stood behind her. “You seem to enjoy my brother’s company,” he said, and Eraena raised her brow. “Well, I would always enjoy the company of those who do not make chase on a war dragon’s back,” she said and watched as Aemond’s jaw ticked. “Let it go, Eraena,” The prince sighed and stepped closer to the prince. “No,” the girl felt a smirk coming to her lips but hindered it. “I will not until you apologize,” she said and wanted to laugh at the look of appalled on Aemond’s face. “I will never apologize to a bastard like you,” the girl shrugged, the word bastard rolling down her back as if it were not a deep insult he had made it to be.

“Then I shall be here to constantly remind you of your idiotic actions; what happened to the cautious boy I once knew? Has your vigilance gone with your eye, uncle?” She asked and finally let the smirk pass to her lips. It was quick to be wiped by Aemond’s next actions, forcefully pushing her to the curved wall of the alcove, his hand enclosed on her neck. Eraena’s obsidian eyes widened in fear, and her breathing stopped. She clawed at the prince’s hand. “A—Aemond,” she wheezed out, but the prince was too far gone in his own rage. Eraena closed her eyes, feeling his hold tighten, lifting the girl from the ground by her throat. “How easy it is to be rid of you now, bastard,” Aemond seethed, and Eraena felt tears run down her face. It was not until her salty tears hit Aemond’s hand that he grew aware of what he had done.

The prince quickly let go of the girl, who fell harshly to the ground. “Eraena…” he managed to say, voice growing soft. Eraena tried catching her breath and turned to the prince in horror. She quickly stood up, gathered her skirts, and ran to her chambers in fear. When in the solace of her own chambers, Eraena broke into tears. Anger cannot find a place in her being; she is only wrapped in fear. What has Aemond come to? So cruel and callous that he did not even give a second thought about taking her life.

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dangermousie · 12 days ago

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Now that I’ve checked out enough of all three newly-ish cdramas: Fangs of Fortune, Love Game in Eastern Fantasy and The Story of Pearl Girl, the results are kinda surprising.

I am, as you can tell, OBSESSED with Fangs. That is unexpected because while the trailer was gorgeous I couldn’t really figure out much that would make me obsessed from the summary and all the actors except TJR were either ones I am indifferent to or downright dislike normally. And now I love them all. I don’t know what’s the biggest surprise for me - Cheng Xiao, until now literally my least favorite actress from any country’s dramas, giving a good performance that makes me invested or HMH who I remember thinking of as so handsome but so bland but is now just utterly on fire and has entered Dylan in CLJ “you had THAT in you? How?” territory. And the story and the themes and the visuals! I haven’t seen a drama catering this hard to my personal narrative and character preferences since Novoland Eagle Flag.

Eastern Fantasy is even more of a surprise tbh. At least I was interested in peeking at Fangs for the visuals. I almost didn’t even check out Eastern Fantasy at all. I enjoyed the novel but that is never a guarantee of anything with adaptations (and it was never a major love of a book anyway), I like Esther a lot but not enough to watch stuff just for her. DYX is someone I have a soft spot for but not a single drama of his worked for me in years to the extent I kept joking he’s cursed. I hated all the trailers and posters - they looked kooky and not in a good way. Plus my track record of liking it when shows try to go for funny is abysmal and the whole thing seemed targeted to an audience that is so young they are still in middle school.

Only checked out because I had some time and omg it’s funny and clever and darling and the performances and characters and dynamics and the vibe are all on point (and so is potential for angst.) Soooooo good!

And now Pearl. It was by far my most anticipated of the three - trailer was cool, love the leads (and the fact that they reunited!) etc etc. But now? It’s a solid enough drama and enjoyable but it’s my least favorite of the three. A lot of it is genre viewer mismatch - I don’t really like “woman makes her name in trade with a side of hot scary man who eventually helps her” (see 2022 A Dream of Splendor - a well acted big hit that left me utterly cold.)

I just don’t care about the mechanics of trade or Horatio Alger stories even if Horatio in this case is a beautiful young woman. ZLS starts talking about cuts of profit for selling jewel waste products and my brain shuts down. It doesn’t help that while I find LYN character realistic for who he’s supposed to be, their dynamics so far do not make me ship them in the least and in fact I want her to lightly stab him (I genuinely don’t see how it will switch to her liking him.) It’s the same issue I had with Dream as well - just as here the chemistry was great but it was not a shippy dynamic that does it for me.

Oh well, that’s why it’s fun to watch new things, you never know…

#cdrama #the story of pearl girl #fangs of fortune #love game in eastern fantasy

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chocolateremus · 1 month ago

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Secret admirer.

Pairings: Remus x Fem!reader

Warnings: Weirdo reader, sh, scars. Slow burn but it's worth it please trust me ☹️💔

Summary ! Remus found himself slowly falling inlove with you, but doesn't have the courage to tell you the reason he has so many scars, but what happens when he sees you do too?

Word count: 5.92k words

Masterlist

Early morning, the cold air hit, the smell of fresh trees and rain hits so perfectly, he saw the same girl from yesterday spoke to Lily. You. Remus stood several feet away, pretending to be doing something else as he watched Lily and the strange girl speak. He continued to feign interest in a nearby tree as he watched them out of the corner of his eye, listening to their conversation.

Every time he looks toward your way, he feels his heart skipping a beat. Always. Remus's attention was brought away from the nearby girls as he heard James and Sirius's voices carry over from a short distance away. He turned his head, watching as James and Sirius argued with each other, obviously challenging each other on something that Remus couldn't hear. After a moment, he turned back, only to see that Lily and the girl were gone now.

Remus stared at the empty spot where the girls had been standing moments ago, feeling a strange sense of emptiness now that they were gone. He had a lingering suspicion that he was forgetting something, but couldn't quite place what. He ran a hand through his messy hair before looking back down at his book, trying to focus on the words on the pages, but he couldn't help but remain distracted, his heart still feeling weird and a slight ache in his chest.

Remus found himself drawn to the sight of this mysterious girl. Every time he sees you, your sweet shy smile, the way you elegantly carried herself. He often found himself wondering how he had never noticed you before. Every morning, he would wake up early, just to catch a glimpse of you. Today, he found you in the common room, having tea with Mary. He made his way over to them, under the guise of wanting to get some tea.

Remus couldn't help but smile as he heard your laughter, your soft, melodious giggles carrying themselves through the air. The smell of your sweet scent filled his nose as he got closer and closer to the pair. His heart rate slowly picked up slightly as he walked over, wanting to be closer to you.

"Oh- Hi Remus!" Mary greeted him, Remus snapped out of his own thoughts as he heard Mary's voice, realizing that he was now standing in front of you two, tea completely forgotten.

"Hi Mary. How are you?"

His eyes darted to the mysterious girl, noticing the way your face lit up when you saw him, your sweet smile making his heart flutter in his chest.

"We're doing great. Tea?" Mary asked, the mysterious girl has an odd sense of style, something you would see outside of Hogwarts, lots of beads, bracelets or charms on your wrist, necklaces, color mix.

Remus nodded, his eyes remaining fixed on the mysterious girl. He didn't know why, but he couldn't help but be drawn to you. He watched the way you fiddled with the bracelet charms on her wrist, all while watching the light play in your eyes with the smile on your face.

"Yeah, some tea would be great. Thanks, Mary."

"It's mountain tea, Lyn got it from her trip to Athens." Mary said, Remus smiled at the mention of the mysterious girl's name, Lyn. It was a pretty name that seemed to fit you so well. You muttered a hi, Remus saw that you were shy, and soft-spoken too. Anyone could tell from the first look, giving a sense of comfort for some reason.

He watched the way your eyes darted to the tea, a soft, shy smile on your lips, but there was something else, something that drew him to you even more.

"Hey ho Moony!" A slap on Remus back made him spit the drink out slightly. Remus's eyes widened in surprise as he felt James's hand slap against his back, the sudden action causing him to spit out some of the tea.

"Prongs, what the hell was that for?"

"Sorry, we just pranked Snivellus,and it was totally the best prank ever." James said, before plopping down next to Remus, so did Sirius.

"Oh, really? What did you do this time?"

He asked, before noticing Sirius sitting down next to him, the two of them now effectively sandwiching him between them.

"It's a secret!" Sirius said, before snatching the tea from Remus hand and chugging it. Remus scowled as Sirius snatched the tea from his hand, the last drop of his tea now being quickly siphoned up by his friend.

"Hey! That was my tea, you arsehole."

"no worries yea? Sweet Lynnie has more yes?"

Remus rolled his eyes again, before looking over to 'Sweet Lynnie' as Sirius called you, noting the way the nickname seemed to cause your pale cheeks to flush with a slight blush.

"Get me more would ya darling?"

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius's request, knowing that his friend could easily get tea himself instead of having the girl do it for him. He looked over at you, watching as your cheeks flushed a little more with a soft blush when you were called 'darling.' Remus continued to watch the girl as you hesitantly agreed to get more tea for Sirius. He noticed the way you fidgeted with a bracelet on your wrist as you pushed yourself up out of the chair, the action drawing Remus's attention again to the several charms, beads, and jeweled bangles that adorned your delicate wrists.

Remus couldn't help but notice the bandages that peeked out from beneath the bangles on her wrists. He wondered, somewhat concerned, about what type of injury she might have that would require bandages.

He found himself watching the way she moved and carried herself, the grace and elegance in her every action. Remus found his eyes constantly drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It's been a while since, Remus tried to talk to you but never had the big courage to, always chicken out at the last moment. Well. Until now.

The picnic party held by Lily was fun, really. Near the lake, Remus said James and Sirius competing to see who could swim the farthest. Remus watched as James and Sirius competed with each other in the lake, their friendly competition putting a smile on his face. But his focus was soon drawn away from them, towards the tree line, when he noticed you. Seated on a swing, idly swinging back and forth, looking so isolated and lonely. He couldn't explain why, but the sight of you alone on the swing, all by yourself, tugged at something in his chest.

Remus watched you on the swing from afar for a few more moments, feeling the odd aching feeling in his chest grow stronger. His eyes lingered on your lonely and isolated form by the tree line, before slowly finding the courage to walk closer to you. His heart rate becoming increasingly faster with every step. As he approached the swing where you sat, he couldn't help but notice every little detail about you, the way you looked, your hair, your eyes, the way you held yourself, everything. Finally, he came to a stop right next to the swing, a small distance between the two of you.

Remus hesitated for a moment, gathering up the confidence to speak to you, before finally breaking the silence that hung between the two of you.

"Erm... mind if I..."

He motioned towards the vacant swing next to you as you nodded. Remus gave you a small smile in response and muttered a soft 'thanks' before carefully sitting down on the vacant swing next to you. The two of you sat there together, a brief moment of awkward silence between you, before Remus opened his mouth to speak once more.

"So... why are you all alone over here?"

"Oh I just like being alone.. y'know?" Remus nodded a little bit in understanding, his eyes continuing to dart around your form, not able to help himself from noticing your appearance. He found your answer a bit strange, but he didn't comment on it further.

"Y-Yeah, I get that. Nothing wrong with a little peace and quiet... although, being alone at parties can kind of, y'know, suck sometimes."

A brief moment of silence fell again as Remus struggled to find something else to say, wanting to continue the conversation. He searched his mind for something, anything, to fill the silence that settled over the two of you, but nothing came to mind. So, he ended up just staring at you for a moment, studying your features and looking at how the soft light of the sun played across your face.

"Hey how'd you get so many scars..? Your face.." *Remus's head snapped up as you suddenly spoke, the question slightly catching him off guard. He automatically reached up to his face, gently tracing a finger along a few of the scars that marked his cheek, before letting his hand fall away once more.*

"Ah, these? It's... kind of a long story, actually." Remus's head snapped up as you suddenly spoke, the question slightly catching him off guard. He automatically reached up to his face, gently tracing a finger along a few of the scars that marked his cheek, before letting his hand fall away once more. Remus mentally cursed to himself slightly as he tried to think of what exactly to say. The truth was definitely not an option. You were a normal student, someone who clearly knew nothing of the magical world, let alone a werewolf. He couldn't exactly just say 'oh, you know, lycanthropy.'

So, he tried to think of an excuse, a reason for the scars on his face other than the truth. But unfortunately, it wasn't coming to him.

"Ah, these? It's... kind of a long story, actually."

Remus's eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the glimpse of white once again peeking out from under your bracelets. That same aching, fluttery feeling in his chest returned, stronger than before as it ached at the thought that you might be hurt, that something was wrong. Without thinking much, he spoke before he could stop himself.

"Hey, erm... those bandages-" He gestured to your wrist. "Are you... okay?"

"Uhh.. yea."

Remus studied your face closely as you spoke, not quite believing you. He couldn't explain why, he just felt his protective, over-worried nature taking over. He couldn't bring himself to look away from the bandages on your wrist, the faint ache in his chest refusing to go away.

"You sure? I mean... you're wearing bandages for a reason..."

"Yea.. it's just I'm really clumsy. I have bruises here and there."

Remus didn't seem fully convinced by your answer, his eyes still trained on the bracelets around your wrist. He noted the way your fingers instinctively fiddled with them, as if trying to conceal something.

"You sure it's just from being clumsy...? Seems a little excessive just for some bruises..."

"No .. this one I fell off my bike around some branches." Remus watched you closely, his heart rate picking up a bit at your statement. Something was off; he could tell that there was something more to the story than you were letting on. He wanted to press further, to ask more questions, but he held himself back, not wanting to pry too much.

"And what about the other one? The one on your other wrist...?"

"same thing.. I was holding onto my bike handles."

Remus studied your face, his eyebrows furrowing once more. He wasn't quite sure if he believed what you were saying, the way you fidgeted with the bracelets around your wrists setting off alarm bells in his head. He decided to press a little further, wanting to get to the bottom of the mystery.

"And how often does this happen...? You falling off your bike and ending up with bandages on your wrists...?"

"Just this once.. my brakes broken and I didn't notice."

Remus nodded slightly, digesting the information. He still had a lingering suspicion that there was more to the story than you were letting on, but he didn't want to seem too pushy or nosy. He let the silence fall between the two of you as he continued to watch you, studying the way you fidgeted with the bangles on your wrists and the way the sunlight played across your face. Purple cardigan, mesh skirt over jeans, hair charms, sun symbol necklace and tons of charms, bangles, beads and metals on your wrist, nothing about you looked normal. Rather odd.

Remus let his eyes roam over your form, taking in every little detail about you. He found himself slightly fascinated by you, the way you looked so different from all other girls at Hogwarts, with your own unique, and slightly strange, style. His mind was filled with so many questions. Who are you? Where are you from? Why do you look like this, act like this? Why does his heart always flutter whenever he's near you?

"Do you think I'm weird?" Remus blinked slightly in surprise at your question, his thoughts being interrupted by the suddenness of your words. He looked at you, studying your face, noticing the insecure, hesitant look you had. He felt his heartstrings tug at the sight, something inside him wanting to reassure you.

"No, not weird... just... different." He answered honestly, a small smile on his lips.

"...Are you different too?"

Remus paused at your question, his eyes darting away as he considered his answer. In some ways, he was different. He knew that much. His condition made sure of that. He was a ticking time bomb, cursed to transform into a mindless beast every full moon, unable to control himself. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours, a small smile on his lips.

"Yeah... I guess you could say I'm different too."

"Do you like being different?" Remus let a moment of silence fall again as he considered your question. It was something he had thought about before, whether he liked being different or not. Being different was what set him apart from others, made him unique.

But at the same time, it also made him an outsider, an outcast. Someone who didn't quite fit in.

He looked back at you, his eyes locking onto yours, before he answered.

"Sometimes. But it can also be lonely."

"But we can be weird together right?"

Remus couldn't help but let out a soft, light laugh at your comment. He felt his heart flutter a bit in his chest again, the small, almost vulnerable, smile on his lips growing wider in response to your words. The suggestion that the two of you could be different and weird together, that he wasn't alone in his loneliness, filled him with a strange, comforting warmth.

"Yeah.. I think I'd like that."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Over the weeks Remus felt like he couldn't ever think he could like you more. You were fun, shy, soft-spoken and so lovable, but him disappearing for about 3 days and coming back with scars wasn't really the best thing to do, it gravelly concerned you. Sitting in the common room, Remus couldn't help but feel your stares on his scars.He could sense the curiosity and concern in your gaze, as you studied the new scars that adorned his face. He fidgeted uncomfortably under your stare, his hands instinctively coming up to cover the scars, as if he was trying to hide them from your eyes. He didn't want you to see him like this, to see the evidence of his curse.

Remus let out a small sigh of relief as you finally looked away, the weight of your gaze lifting from him. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the sight of you avoiding his eyes, though. He found himself wanting your eyes on him again, yearning for that familiar sense of warmth and comfort that your gaze provided. But he knew that he shouldn't keep this up, knew that he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. Remus's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the new bandage wrapped around your wrist again, peeking out from underneath the bangles and charms that adorned it. He found himself feeling a pang of worry and concern at the sight, the nagging thought that there was more to your story than you were letting on, still lingering in his mind. He had to resist the urge to reach out and ask what had happened, to gently pull back the layers of metal and beads that hid the mystery beneath.

The sound of your bracelets clinging together as you flipped the page of the book on your lap filled the otherwise silent room, creating a light, almost melodic sound. Remus, seated on the sofa next to you, found himself unable to focus on the book in his hands, his mind too distracted by your presence next to him. He snuck a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, studying your face, noting the way the light played off your features, before quickly looking away again. Remus watched as you stood up, closed your book, and headed towards the stairs to your dorm. A small pang of disappointment filled him at the thought of you leaving, not wanting you to leave just yet. He found himself wanting to keep you there, talking with him for just a bit longer.

"Night, sweetheart." He said in a soft voice, his eyes following your movements as you walked away. The room was quiet and still, the late hour leaving most students sound asleep in their dorm rooms. However, Remus found himself wide awake, his mind still in turmoil.

A small part of him yearned to be there, to hold you close and whisper silly words into your ear, to watch over you as you slept. But he knew he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The days continued as the heat and humidity of summer slowly started setting in. Remus found himself often in a state of sweat and discomfort, the heat not exactly helping his restlessness at night.

His eyes couldn't help but be drawn to your wrists, where the bandages around them peeked out from underneath the bangles and bracelets you still wore. The nagging feeling that there was more to the mystery of your wrist continued to linger in his mind.

Remus couldn't help but notice the way you were dressed. Weird clothing combos with all your jewelry and bracelets made for an endearing combination, not to mention the adorable way you held the popsicle up to his lips, offering him a taste of it. A small smile tugged at his lips at the sight, and he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter at the gesture.

"Trying to cool me down, princess?"

"It's really hot. Give it a taste! It's strawberry."

Remus chuckled softly, amused at your insistence that he try it. He leaned in and took a small bite of the popsicle, the sweet and tangy taste of strawberry hitting his tongue. He let out a small satisfied sigh, feeling the coolness of the treat bring a small relief from the heat.

"Mmm, it's good. Thanks, sweetheart."

Remus could feel his heart flutter in his chest as he watched you sucking on the popsicle, your stained lips and tongue making him feel a faint sense of jealousy. He tried to ignore it, telling himself it was silly, but he couldn't help it. The sight of you with your lips stained red and the popsicle stick in your hand was making his heart race.

His eyes still lingering on your lips, silently wishing he was the one you were sucking on instead.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Remus..."

Walking out of hogsmeade to Hogwarts was always a long way, it was even harder with the heat. Remus let out a soft sigh as he felt the heat press down on him once again. Sweat dripped down his forehead, causing his shirt to stick to his skin. He looked at you as you spoke, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, princess?"

"M'legs are tired."

Remus chuckled softly at your declaration, a gentle smile forming on his lips at your admission. He couldn't help but find your slightly whinny tone slightly adorable, a small part of him finding it endearing.

"Tired already? We're only halfway there, sweetheart."

Remus couldn't help but let out another chuckle as he saw the way you were standing, your legs bent and a slightly pleading look in your eyes. He knew you were tired, the heat and the long walk back to Hogwarts taking its toll on you.

He stopped walking for a moment, studying your form, a mixture of fondness and slight amusement in his eyes.

"Come here, princess." Remus held out his hand, gesturing for you to come closer. He had a small smirk on his lips, his eyes scanning your form, taking in the sight of you, tired and slightly whinny.

"C'mere. Hop up on my back."

You went over to him like a puppy before jumping on top on his back, your arm laid out to his neck, Remus wrapped his arms underneath your legs, securing you on his back as you jumped up on him. A small smile tugged at his lips as he felt your hand around his neck, the soft bandages on your wrist brushing against his skin and reminding him of their presence.

He started walking again, supporting you on his back, carefully minding your legs hanging over his arms.

"You comfortable up there, princess?"

"Yes.." Remus felt a small hint of relief at your response, glad that you seemed to be comfortable on his back. He carried on walking, the weight of you on his back not as heavy as he'd expected. Feeling your arms around his neck and your legs around his arms, he found himself liking the feeling of having you close to him.

He glanced down at the bandages on your wrist, his thoughts drifting to the mystery of what those scars were from. He wanted to know, but didn't want to pry.

Remus noticed your silence as he walked, a small pang of concern nagging in his mind. The usual chattiness that he had come to expect from you was strangely missing, and he couldn't help but wonder if something was bothering you.

He glanced at your wrist again, his eyes lingering on the bandages, before he spoke up, breaking the silence gently.

"You're quiet today, princess."

"M'tired."

Remus nodded in understanding, a small smile tugging at his lips at your tired confession.*

"I know you're tired, sweetheart, but we're almost back to the castle. We can rest then."

He found himself enjoying the weight of you on his back, the feeling of you so close to him somewhat comforting. He continued walking, slowly nearing Hogwarts.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Remus's body was battered and bruised, the full moon transformation having taken its toll on him as always. He staggered into the prefect bathroom, the warm water running, and sank down into the bathtub with a sigh.

Hot baths had become something of a comfort for him lately. The heat soothed his aching muscles and numbed the physical pain, although the sight of the fresh bleeding scars brought a small pang of disgust.

His wet drenched hair didn't bother him, he wanted to go and collapse straight into his bed, he changed into his clothes and jumped straight into the bed alone since Sirius and James were sleeping at their girlfriends. but a familiar ring was heard, like noises that would come from your bracelets that clink each other, Remus's ears instinctively perked up at the sound of the clinking noise, the familiar ring instantly recognizable as it broke the quiet of the room. He sat up in his bed, his weary gaze scanning the room in search of the source. His tired mind quickly made the connection, knowing that sound all too well, a knock before the door opened, Remus already knew who it was.

"Hi.."

Remus smiled weakly as he heard your voice, his expression showing a mix of fatigue and relief as the door opened and you appeared before him.

"Hey, princess..."

He sat up a bit straighter in his bed, a small hint of sleep lingering in his eyes. Despite his exhaustion, seeing you brought a familiar sense of comfort.

"I've got chocolate.. uhm.. mind if I sit?" You asked, despite knowing he would say yes to you sitting on his bed, before giving him the crinkly golden wrapper inside with chocolate. Remus chuckled softly at your question, a small smile playing on his lips. Of course he didn't mind if you sat on his bed. In fact, he secretly found it endearing when you did.

"Of course. Come here, sweetheart."

He patted the empty spot next to him, beckoning you to sit down. His eyes stayed on yours, watching as you approached with the crinkled golden wrapper in hand.

"You okay..? I've noticed you've always been gone during the full moon.. and I just ..." You said, as you sat, his body tensed up. Remus's expression softened as you spoke, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. He knew you were aware of his monthly 'disappearance', and he knew you must be worried about him. He let out a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on the empty space ahead of him for a moment before answering.

"I'm... I'm fine. It's just the full moon taking a toll on me. I promise I'm alright."

His voice was tired, but he tried to hide his exhaustion as best as he could from you.

"You're bleeding y'know?"

Remus was caught slightly off guard by your comment. He had almost forgotten about the fresh cuts and bleeding scars that marked his body, so used to them now that he hardly noticed the pain or the blood.

He looked down at his arms, the slashes and cuts still weeping blood, some already starting to form scars. He let out a small sigh.

"Ah...yeah, I guess I am...it's nothing, though. I'm fine."

"D'you have more of them..?"

Remus's eyes met yours as you asked your question, a flicker of vulnerability and hesitation in his gaze. He knew you meant well, but he didn't want to burden you with the knowledge of the full extent of his scars and the truth behind them.

"Yeah...I do."

He looked away, avoiding your gaze. The thought of showing you the rest of his scars was both terrifying and oddly comforting. He didn't want to see the look on your face once you had seen them in full. You knew that. You looked down as if thinking of doing something. Something that could change his view. A moment of silence before you spoke up.

"I'll show you mines if you show me yours."

*Remus's eyes widened slightly at your unexpected suggestion. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You were offering to show him your scars in exchange for seeing his.*

*A part of him wanted to protest, to resist the notion of revealing such intimate and vulnerable parts of themselves to each other. But another part of him, a larger part of him, couldn't deny the strange sense of comfort and understanding your offer had brought. He let out a shaky breath.

"You sure about this, princess?"

"Mhm.."

Remus's heart thumped heavily in his chest. Your agreement had both surprised and relieved him. He could see the sincere determination in your eyes.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was about to happen. With a mix of hesitation and courage, he reached for the hem of his shirt, grasping it tightly.

"Alright then, sweetheart...but you first."

Taking off the bunch of bracelets he had never seen you took of before, the same white bandage there had stains of red and orange, before peeling it off, deep red raw scars that's were in the process of healing appeared. Both sides of your wrist, his heart skipping a beat as the deep red, raw scars came into view. He had never seen your wrists bare like this before, so the image of the healing cuts was both shocking and distressing. He fought the urge to reach out and touch the fresh wounds, his hands clenching into fists to keep himself grounded.

"Sweetheart..."

He whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of pain and concern. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

".. I.. I wanna see yours."

Remus's heart ached at the sight of your wrists, but he knew that he had promised to show you his scars in return. With a mixture of reluctance and determination, he slowly lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing his own collection o scars that adorned his chest and arms.*

The scars were a stark contrast to his usually unblemished skin, a permanent mark of the pain and suffering he had endured. Deep cuts, scratches, and pale white lines were scattered across his body in various sizes and shapes. You stood quiet, the both of you did. Before your hand reached out, uncertain.

"Can I..?"

Remus's breath caught in his throat as your hand reached out towards his scars. He wasn't used to people seeing them, let alone touching them. But he nodded, knowing that he had agreed to this. He trusted you.

"Yeah...you can."

His voice was soft, a hint of trepidation mixed with a hint of relief. He watched as your hand inched closer, anticipation and nervous tension building in his chest.

Remus's breath hitched as your soft touch grazed over his chest and torso, his body responding to the gentle sensation with a mix of comfort. No one had ever touched his scars like this before, with such care and tenderness. It was an odd feeling, both intimate and soothing.

He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of your hands tracing over his scars, like a salve to his wounded body and soul. A small sigh escaped his lips, tension melting away beneath your feather-light touch.

"My wrist are no the only ones though.."

Remus's eyes opened slowly as your words hit him, his mind registering the implications of your statement. He looked up at you, his gaze curious but caring.

"There's more?"

He whispered, his voice gentle and concerned. The revelation that there were more scars beyond your wrists caught him off guard, and a protective instinct stirred within him. Remus's heart ached as your silent indication confirmed his suspicions. His eyes trailed down to your stomach, even though he had already guessed where the scars might be.

A mixture of sadness and anger stirred within him. He had never guessed that you carried more scars than he had thought, but he was also strangely glad you had chosen to share this part of yourself with him.

"Can I...?"

He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze fixed on your stomach. Remus watched as you nodded, giving him permission to see the scars on your stomach. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, before gently lifting the hem of your shirt, his hands trembling slightly.

He felt the smooth skin of your stomach beneath his fingers, a marked contrast to the scarred skin of his own body, as he slowly revealed your hidden wounds. He braced himself, preparing to see the evidence of your pain.

it wasn't deep, but they were long thin white lines over your stomach, long strides of it across your body. Remus's breath caught in his throat as he saw the scars across your stomach. They were long, thin, and white, evidence of past pain and struggles that hadn't faded completely from your body. His heart ached at the sight, and a mix of sadness and anger rose within him.

He traced his fingers lightly along the lines, careful not to press too hard or cause you pain, but unable to keep himself from touching them. The urge to comfort and protect you was strong, but he knew he had to tread carefully.

"Rem.."

Remus looked up from your stomach, his gaze meeting yours. A mix of emotions swam in his eyes - sadness, anger, and a deep sense of empathy for you. Your voice saying his name in such a soft, vulnerable tone made his heart ache even more.

"Yeah...?"

He whispered, his fingers still gently tracing over the scars on your stomach, his touch like a feather, his eyes not leaving your face. You held his face for a while, your hand rested against his cheek, before leaning closer and closer, uncertain. Remus didn't pull away as you held his face in your hand. He leaned into your touch, his cheek resting in your palm, the warmth of your skin against his a soothing comfort. As you leaned closer, he could feel the soft puffs of your breath mingling with his.

He could sense your uncertainty, your hesitation, and his heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of desire and nervousness coursing through his veins.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't-" Remus didn't allow you to pull back, his hands reaching up to grasp your wrist delicately, keeping you close to him. His eyes locked onto yours, his voice low and earnest.

"No, don't apologize...don't pull away."

He didn't know where this moment was heading, but he knew he didn't want it to end, not yet.

Remus searched your eyes, trying to understand the unspoken emotions and thoughts that flickered there. His heart raced, caught up in the intensity of the moment. He could feel your wrist beneath his fingers, the rapid pulse mirroring his own. He wasn't sure what was happening between you, but he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Princess..."

He whispered your nickname tenderly, as if it had become a prayer on his lips. Remus leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips gently brushed against yours, at first hesitant, but then more confident as he gave in to the desire that had built between you. The touch of his lips against yours sent a shockwave through his body, and his grip on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let go.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Remus's head rested on your stomach, his chin resting near your hips as your fingers gently caressed his hair. The early morning light streamed in through the crack in the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft, dim glow. His body was warm and relaxed, the weariness from the night before fading as he found comfort in your touch and the intimacy of the moment.

He couldn't imagine anything more perfect than this - the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing beneath him, the scent of your skin surrounding him like a comforting blanket.

You let out a soft gasp as Remus's lips brush against your scars, sending a shiver down your spine. His arms wrapped around your hips, holding you close against him, and you melted into his embrace.

His kisses were light, but each one sent a small jolt of electricity through your body. The way he so tenderly kissed your scars, as if they were delicate treasures to be cherished, made your heart swell with a mix of emotions.

Falling asleep bare together, tangled limbs to let the rest of the marauders find the two of you like this in the afternoon, James can't help but let out a cheerful grunt as he has won the bet against Lily.

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