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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

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happybunnykat · 2 years

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Had a very intense dream about Deltarune and Covid and being queer....

#a talking bunkat #my dream was that chapter 3-7 came out and I got to play them all #with Toby Fox and a bunch of other people on stream which was fun #and like #I made a joke about being bi and everyone there was super chill about it #Also at one point I'm pretty sure I ate glass #but anyway each chapter had a normal route and it's own like. ''Snowgrave'' type thing #and if you messed up one ''Snowgrave'' the rest would be impossible to complete #except bc I was playing with Toby Fox he had a way around that some how so it was much lower pressure #the first chapter we did was like. Space themed #or more like. space station themed #and then we went back to the school except it was like. a preschool room with some rando teacher #and like she got made bc people kept talking about the last chapters secret boss (a giant fish person)#and anyway after that we went to a pool based world bc of course we did #and then a new strand of covid that was transmitted through water was announced and everyone had to get out #and no one could get in the water to play past it until they found a vacation for the new strand #then I woke up #there were more small details but that was the general idea of it all

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hees-mine · 3 months

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DESTROYED - L. HEESEUNG

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: suggestive, crying, blood, violence, touching without consent, reader says no. This is rushed so i apologize in advance for errors.

Genre: 18+, smut, Minors do not interact!

WC: 2,533k

PART ONE PART TWO

⟱⟱⟱

Avoiding heeseung was now a daily routine for you.

It went from trying to get as close to him as possible to keeping as much distance from him as possible.

You nearly skipped your shared class with him everyday cause his aura alone made a chill run down your spine.

The most you’ve seen of him was a small glimpse of the worn Nike’s that’d he’d wear to school everyday.

You know you probably shouldn’t even notice him or look for him at all but avoidance was easy acceptance wasn’t.

Avoiding him was easy cause the last thing you wanted to do was run into him alone again.

But acceptance was hard cause you didn’t want to believe the guy you secretly loved from afar wasn’t a guy worth loving.

The scenarios that you made up in your head about him were so far from reality.

There were polar opposites and even knowing what kind of person he is it’s still hard to move on from something that’s been a part of your life for so long.

But eventually, you’ll have to come to terms with it cause this wasn’t another one of your unrealistic scenarios. He was someone to stay far away from, and the bruises on your neck were proof of that.

Heeseung watched you walking the school halls pitifully a smile creeping up to his lips cause now you’re smart enough to know better than to get anyone near him.

He must admit it is a bit strange that you even approached him to begin with cause since he’s been in the neighborhood you’re the first and only person to acknowledge him or try to befriend him.

He kept his distance from people purposefully cause he simply wanted to be alone.

It’s better for him that way.

He doesn’t want to talk or even to be seen if he had a choice then he’d stay hidden away from everybody.

Heeseung had just wrapped up his classes for the day and stepped out of the school building heading in the direction of the woodsy path that led back to his home.

You weren’t the only one that took that route he’d often see you but he’d never show himself for obvious reasons.

The path was his favorite cause not only was it a shortcut to home, but he also avoided all the other schoolgoers as well.

As he walks the path, the sound of small twigs cracking under his shoe gives him a sense of satisfaction.

He took a few more calculated steps listening to the dried up leafs crunching with every stride there was one big lead in particular and he was anticipating the sound right as his foot came in contact with the aged leaf the sound of laughing in the woods ruined the suspense of his endeavor his head snapping up toward the sound.

There was nothing in his line of vision. He stopped and listened, looking around for something or someone in the distance, and then he heard it again, but this time, he also heard the sounds of someone crying.

He walked in the direction of the noise getting closer and closer to the sounds until a group of three men entered his vision.

It had been a full month since you had been avoiding heeseung, and you thought it was safe to say he’d leave you alone for good now, so you started to take your old trail back home, assuming he wouldn’t be bothering you out here again.

And Well, there was no sign of heeseung. There were three older men standing in front of you, blocking your path when you got maybe halfway into the woods.

There was never anyone out here ever.

Until today.

And today just so happened to be your lucky day.

You tried to politely tell them off, but they didn’t listen. Of course, they didn’t listen.

They badgered you continuously despite you telling them you were not interested. They circled you like hungry wolves against their prey, poking and prodding you, pulling your hair, and saying the nastiest things to you.

You were paralyzed with fear, praying someone would save you, and just when one of the men was going to grab you and do, god only knows what, you heard a male voice shout. “Hey!”

The three men look up in the direction of the voice, your eyes soon following there’s, and even though Lee heeseung had just assaulted you in these same woods, somehow, you’ve never been happier to see his face.

“What do you want boy can’t you see we’re busy?” One of them says and you cringe slowly backing away from them.

“Can’t you see I don’t give a fuck? Leave before I run out of patience,” one of them scoffs, and heeseung is just waiting for them to give him a reason to do what he’s been itching to do since the moment he saw them.

“See, unlike you, we don’t have patience. We see what we want, and we take no matter what’s in our way,” the ring leader says and pokes heeseung on the chest with his index finger. Within a second, he’s face down on the ground, groaning in pain.

You flinched from the sudden show of violence and coward down next to a tree, your eyes flicking back and forth from the men and heeseung.

Everything flashed before your eyes so quickly you spaced out, and when you finally got to take a second to breathe and take everything in, heeseung was the only man standing. The rest were covered in blood, rolling in pain, and you’re sure some of their bones were broken with the way heeseung repeatedly hit them with a thick wooden branch.

He didn’t even have a scratch on his face, just the look of pure rage in his eyes as his bloody fists shook with anger.

Your eyes were riddled with fear looking at him. You never thought a savior could look so deranged.

You backed away from him when he came near you and reached his hand out for you to take.

He stood up straight, looking at you with a hardened expression. He didn’t wait for you to take his hand. Rather, he took yours, yanking you off the ground as you kept your distance.

Just cause he saved you, that didn’t mean you weren’t still frightened by him cause you knew he was capable of harming you, too. He’d already done it once.

He walks within a foot’s distance his arm attempting to grab at your waist so he can lead you out of the woods and you pushed his hands away fearfully.

“Are you fucking kidding right now? I save you from a group of fucking assholes, and you push me away?” He says as if he hasn’t harmed you before.

You took calm breaths and never made eye contact with him.

Your silence ticks him off, and he forcefully grips your face. “You know, I thought you’d be smart enough not to take this path again after what happened last time.”

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of what happened last time and your body is filled with even more fear as you try to move your head out of his grip.

“Fucking mute thought you were a bit smarter than that” he turns around, leaving you in the woods with the unconscious bodies on the ground. You took a peek at them, got up, and ran home as fast as possible.

Despite earlier events and your better judgment when nightfall hit you decided to take a walk cause you just needed a break especially after your mother tore into you when you showed up late.

Your life had just been terrible recently, and every small thing felt magnified from the way heeseung treated you.

You didn’t tell your mom what happened you know she wouldn’t care the only thing she cared about was how quickly you’d come home so you could run to the corner store and buy her another bottle.

It has always been that way since you can remembe-

Your train of thought was broken when you heard loud voices in the near distance. They were screaming sounded, almost like fighting.

You stopped in your tracks a few blocks down, and you could see two men standing outside in front of their house. “Mom, go inside,” heeseung says.

“Yeah, go inside, dear. I’d hate for you to see me wreck your boy,” his dad drunkenly chuckles.

What happened today was just a Kickstarter for heeseung to do what he should have done a long time ago, but now he was ready to do what needed to be done. Him and his mother had endured enough stress and pain at the hands of his father, and it was finally time to put an end to this.

Right here.

Right now.

You saw one of the men throw a punch landing straight on the other man’s face and you flinched.

Flashes from heeseung fighting off those men earlier rushed through your mind as you watched the two unknown men fighting each other.

It wasn’t long until one was dropped, the other jumping on top of the body on the ground, pummeling the other's face in, and you gasped quickly, covering your mouth as the assault took place.

You heard a woman’s voice sounding panicked. “Heeseung, don’t he’s still your father.” She turned on the porch light and ran down the steps to cover what you assumed was her husband.

No way, you thought as you heard what she said, was it really heeseung?

You know what he was capable of doing to you, but he treated his own father the same way. Was he really that sick and twisted in the head?

Heeseung never understood why his mother would always defend his father, but her wishes always came first, so he withdrew himself for his mother’s sake. If it wasn’t for her, he might have killed his father tonight.

When all the other lights in the neighborhood came on, they revealed him perfectly, and it was indeed him.

It was heeseung.

You were shocked to your core. You didn’t stick around for anything else, and you bolted back home, tucking yourself in bed for the night, trying desperately to erase the image of bloody heeseung from your mind.

Since that day, you have practically been running from Heeseung whenever you sensed his presence was near.

Except today at your locker when you felt a hand tug your wrist.

You looked up, and when you saw him, your body shook immediately with fear. You tried to pull away from his grip, but it just got tighter.

“Look at me” he commands but you kept your eyes low. “Fine” he yanks you to that same empty classroom where you both did unspeakable things things you wished you hadn’t. “Look” for the first time in weeks you dared to look at him in the eyes.

“Y-you told me not t-“

“I’m telling you now!” He shouts. “Don’t act you know the first thing about listening” he pinned you against the door.

You quickly lock your eyes with him, fearing what he might do if you didn’t listen.

He looks between both your eyes they looked so familiar he’s seen that look more times than he’s comfortable admitting. “Why are you looking at me like that?” His expression faltering for a moment. You don’t answer your body shaking in fear.

“Heeseung, stop you’re scari-“ he cuts your words off quickly, pressing a finger to your lips so the words don’t come out.

“If you feel that way, then why do you let me do this?” He puts his hand under your skirt, skimming your inner thigh with his fingertips.

You writhe under his hold, pulling your body away from him. “No!” You shout, but he quickly covers your mouth.

He holds you in place, lowering his hand and putting it on your throat. “Be fucking quiet. Yeah, don’t act like you don’t want this.” he grips your thigh while you struggle to get out of his grip.

“Stop!” You gasp out for air, and he squeezes tighter.

“Shush, just let me,” he whispers in your ear. “Be real quiet,” he continues, touching you under your skirt, his hand moving from your throat down to creeping down to your chest, and you winced. “Come on, I know you want. It got so wet for me last time,” he hums and licks the side of your jaw.

“Heeseung, please stop,” you whimper, hoping he’d listen.

“You say that, but I know you don’t mean it. You loved it last time. Your fucking pussy was just dripping and begging to be fucked” he nudges his forehead against yours, pressing himself closer to you.

You shrink back, your face contorting in disgust, and you can’t believe you ever liked someone like him to begin with. “Get off!” You yelled, using all your strength to push him off of you, and he stumbled back, finally letting you go.

You quickly reached for the doorknob but he was quicker. “Don’t” he easily picks you up hoisting you on the teachers desk spreading your legs and situated himself between. “Keep them open let me have you the way I want” you obey too scared that he might hurt you. “The way we both want” he whispered pressing a soft kiss on your neck.

He starts to roll the bottom of your skirt up, and that’s when he hears you sniffling softly. You want to close your legs, but you keep them open, remembering that you could possibly be hurt in this situation at any given moment.

His eyes travel to your watery ones, and his hands freeze at the look in your eyes. No wonder why your eyes looked so familiar. You were looking at him the same way his mother looked at his father before he’d hit her.

There’s no other way to describe the look other than fear.

He realized you were scared of him, and as much as he hated his father for what he’d done to his mom, at this exact moment, he could see his father in himself.

His breath catches in his throat and there’s nothing but pen drop silence in the room as he retracts his hands.

When he took his hands off you, you looked at him, your eyes red and watery. Through your blur of tears, you saw the look of confusion on his face mixed with something else.

“Go,” he whispers and backs away from you, freeing you from himself.

You stood up from the desk, your mouth parting to utter something, even though you should have just left as quickly as possible.

Before a word comes out, he shouts. “GO!”

You jumped slightly and rolled down your skirt, running to the door, leaving without looking back.

He stood alone in the empty classroom catching the reflection of his face in the glass window and he was staring back at himself there was nothing behind his eyes and he realized that he was destroyed.

⟱⟱⟱

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours

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calcifiedunderland · 4 months

Text

Part I, Part II (Here), Part III (COMPLETED)

Note: thank you all so much for the support!! I’m glad you all like it, here’s the next part :D

Taglist: @recreyomakesdoodles, @aruis4nosleep, @tinseltina, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @takitafulily, @viperwhispered, @peeisgood, @twistedcece

Warnings: Food/eating, rizz (yes this is a warning), terrorized by flamingos in Trey’s part (never thought I’d write that but here we are), cooking burns

—————————————————————————————————🐙♣️🐍

Despite Jamil’s long-winded convincing, you decided to help him with the food later on. Your mind wandered to the upcoming History of Magic test, the one on Atlantica magical history. Mentally, you kicked yourself for missing Azul’s meeting. Sevens could only help you now if there was some clause in your deal about tardiness or skipping.

Taking a deep breath, you stopped in front of the Octavinelle mirror, before plunging in. To your surprise, Azul was waiting for you. He looked up from his watch with a charming smile and an analytical look in his eye. “Prefect!” You smiled sheepishly at him, “I’m sorry about rescheduling, will this be a problem?” Azul waved you off, “of course not! Although I will need compensation for your time.” “O-of course…”

A small chill went through you, in part because you really didn’t want to owe Azul anything, and also because… “It’s chillier in here than I remember, Azul.” “Oh, is it?” Suspiciously unbothered, Azul shrugged off his blue Dorm Uniform shoulder coat, gazing into your eyes as he settled it around your shoulders. Your face flushed at the gesture, feeling warm.

“I apologize, Prefect. Perhaps the cooling system malfunctioned.” You wrapped your fingers around the collar, pulling it closer around you, “Don’t you need this?” Azul smiled charmingly, wrapping an arm firmly around your shoulders, guiding you into the Lounge, “I’ve endured colder temperatures in the Coral Sea, this is manageable.”

He walked you down the hall, taking a longer route to avoid the dining area of the Lounge. And also to spend more time with you. This passed through the aquarium parts of Octavinelle. You watched the fish swim by, fascinated, while subconsciously leaning closer to Azul as you ambled. “Y’know,” you said idly, watching a pink octopus sail through the water, “I’ve always liked looking at the tanks here. It’s…” your mind wandered to Heartslabyul beheadings, “peaceful.”

Azul’s smile sharpened to a sly smirk. “Oh?” He tapped his octopus-headed cane against the floor, “you’d always be welcome here. As a guest, or otherwise.” You frowned slightly, wondering what he meant, “I don’t like the sound of-!”

Discreetly, Azul swapped the cane to his other hand, closer to you, and blocked your foot. You stumbled, distracted by the tanks and his words, but before you could react, two arms wrapped around your waist and back.

“Please be careful, Prefect.” Azul caught you in a dip. You were all but pressing foreheads together, your wide eyes meeting his ocean blue ones. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, pearl.” He pulled you up in one fluid motion, still keeping his arms around you firmly. He brought one hand up to your cheek, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. You were taken aback by the genuine charming smile he gave you, looking into your eyes, “and I do mean that you’d be welcome anytime as my personal… companion.”

He let go of you, leading you to one of the private booths at the VIP area of the Lounge. You heard the murmur of the rest of the dining area, but otherwise it was peaceful here. You slid into the booth, settling your things down. However, before you could get your books out, Azul stopped you, pushing up his glasses. “There still is the subject of payment. Perhaps we can… work out an arrangement?”

Tension filled you. Before you could open your mouth, Azul snapped his fingers. You were startled to see Jade rolling out a food cart, laden with silver-covered dishes. Azul cleared his throat. With a flourish of his magic pen, he began setting the table before your eyes, silverware and napkins floating before you.

Azul held (probably) your plate, and you watched him in awe. You could only watch, bewildered, as he removed the cover with a flourish. It revealed a very fancy pasta dish that was definitely above your nonexistent paygrade under Crowley. The dish was simmering in a beautiful sauce that seemed to sparkle on the plate, garnished with a small sprig of rosemary. Large pink shrimp glistened in the dim light, curling up between sauce-coated pasta dusted with fresh herbs. The salty, buttery scent of seafood made your mouth water, but you held your composure.

“Azul, you didn’t have to-“ You were cut off by a fancy fruit drink sliding across the table, Floyd grinning at you. Azul smiled smugly as the twins stood beside him, “please, I insist! You are my guest, are you not?” Jade hummed, “This is Mostro Lounge’s hospitality!” The twins stood on either side of Azul, and the three of them looked intently at you, waiting. You hesitantly sipped your drink - somehow, he’d gotten your drink preferences just right. It wasn’t too sweet or sour. It was even garnished with a mint leaf.

Azul sighed heavily, suddenly acting woeful. “I went through all this effort to have this prepared personally for you, only for you to deny it…” As if on cue, Jade sniffled, “Has the hospitality of the Lounge finally run out…?” Floyd opted to just stare at you, wide eyes staring straight into your soul as if to make you feel bad. And it worked.

You bit your lip, “well, I guess…” “Wonderful!” Azul immediately shifted, all smiles. “Now, we can study in a bit, I have a few more platters coming later. For now, let’s go over the beginnings of Atlantica history…”

Seven courses later, you could sufficiently say that not even Grim had ever been as full as you. Azul had prepared several Italian seafood dishes for you, ranging from shrimp pastas and whole crab legs that were as long as your forearm, to large red lobster tails with buttery sauces and more mussels than you could slurp down.

In between courses, you and Azul went over topics he knew Trein would test you on, pacing you so you wouldn’t be too full or too hungry. Still, it was a lot. You groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Ugh, I can’t eat another bite…” Between the leftover curry Jamil gave you earlier and Azul’s meals, you couldn’t even move.

Azul hummed, nibbling some grilled chicken, “was there a specific dish you liked in particular? I plan to add new dishes to the menu, and I’d like your input. Consider this compensation for missing our meeting yesterday.”

Odd compensation indeed. Was this the same devious schemer who make so many students work for him as anemones? Still, you wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Sure… thank you, Azul. This helped me a lot.” By now, you felt much better about the test - he’d even pulled out his own from last year (of course with full marks and extra credit).

Azul nodded, taking your empty plate away. “Of course, I’ll always help out a soul in need! And it’s not often I personally entertain guests.” He looked away, staring at his gloves, “For you, I’d make an exception.”

You may have been grateful for all the food, but even you could tell when Azul was showing himself up for something. Still, as housewarden and the leader behind Mostro Lounge, you still felt touched. “I appreciate it,” you said evenly, meaning it, “thank you.”

A self-assured smile grew on Azul’s face as he handed you a decadent dessert, watching your expression carefully as you dug in, “The pleasure is all mine.”

—•—🐙🐍♣️—•—

You blinked blearily at your phone beeping on the nightstand. You huffed, sitting up in bed. It’s still dark out, you thought, Jamil seriously does this every day?

After meeting him in the cafeteria, you promised you’d help Jamil taste test some foods for Kalim. You couldn’t lie, you felt flattered he trusted you with the task - he was always meticulous with Kalim’s foods. It was alarming how many times Kalim had been poisoned, so Jamil handled his dishes almost every day. Your heart went out to the guy - Jamil probably gave Vil and Jack a run for their madols with how early he woke up to prep food. He’s easily one of the busiest people on campus, you thought.

After getting ready, you headed to the Hall of Mirrors into Scarabia. You swung the kitchen door open, noticing Jamil already had a pot boiling merrily on the stove. The fragrant smell of curry and spices filled the air. Despite your tiredness, you smiled.

“Prefect, you’re here,” Jamil offered you an easy smile. He tossed his bangs back with a flick of his head, and you snorted, “dramatic much?” He rolled his eyes, but you caught the smile on his face. He turned his attention to the simmering pot, stirring it with the wooden spoon. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he confessed. You angled your head, putting on an apron he set aside for you, “Why wouldn’t I?” Jamil chuckled to himself, crossing his arms, “I just meant that it’s early, and… I appreciate your company.” You beamed at him, face feeling rosy, “Well, I don’t mind it. I wanted to help you, after all.”

Jamil smiled and picked up some curry sauce with a spoon. “Here, try this.” He put his hand under the spoon to your lips, fingers barely grazing your chin, standing close enough that you could feel his breath. You flushed at the closeness, but it left as you tried the curry. You hummed at the curry’s taste, closing your eyes. “Mmm, delicious,” you licked your lips. The curry was perfectly creamy and spiced, and warmth spread through your chest. You missed the fond look Jamil gave you, his eyes darting to your lips before clearing his throat.

“I was about to prepare some pita, would you like to help?” Your eyes lit up, and you nodded, “of course!” A few minutes later, you were carefully rolling out the pita dough as Jamil observed you. As you rolled out the dough, it started sticking to the rolling pin. You frowned, and Jamil walked over to you from his chopping board.

“Here, like this.” He took some flour and sprinkled it on the board, before standing behind you. He reached under your arms and removed the dough from the rolling pin, before setting it on the flour and placing your hands on the handles. “I’ll show you,” he said softly in your ear, the two of you almost cheek-to-cheek. You weren’t sure if your body felt hot from his closeness or the stove heat.

He gently put his hands on the rolling pin handle atop yours, rolling out the pita dough firmly. You moved forward a bit, face burning. You tried to focus instead on how Jamil was rolling out the dough, and at last he removed his hand. “Do you understand now?” You nodded rapidly, zeroing in on the dough and trying hard not to make eye contact. Jamil’s grey eyes bored into your figure, and he took a small step to you when the door slammed open.

“Jamil!~” Kalim streamed in, beaming, “I’m back from club activities! I- Oh, hello (Name)! What are you doing here?” You and Jamil sprang away from each other, and you forced a calm look, “hey, Kalim-“ Jamil cut in, putting a hand on your forearm, “They were helping me prepare food, I asked them to.”

Kalim nodded, grinning, “sounds great! It smells amazing, I can’t wait to try it! I’ll get the dorm together!” Before you could politely decline, he sped off to who knows where. Jamil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, “My apologies, Prefect.” You laughed, feeling flustered, “Its fine,” you cleared your throat, muttering, “its a bit warm in here…” Jamil rose an eyebrow, “I can open a window if you’d like?” You nodded. As cooler air rushed in, you mused to yourself, “Its funny how the dorms are all different. Its hot in Scarabia, and cold in Octavinelle.” Jamil frowned, “That’s… specific.”

You elaborated, “I was there yesterday, Azul was helping me.” Jamil’s eyes narrowed, and he nonchalantly turned to the pita cooking on the stopetop. He flipped one with his hands, feigning concern as he looked back at you, “Are you sure Azul had good intentions? I don’t want you being tied into a contract.”

You waved him off, “Don’t worry, we worked it out! I made sure he wasn’t asking for anything too great.” At Jamil’s silence, you continued, “Its fine, Azul was helping me study for my History test, the one I had a few days ago. You know how Trein is.”

Jamil turned his attention to the pita, thinking back to last winter. Azul doesn’t offer his help on tests without some payment, and going by last winter, he might’ve made (Name) work with him without pay. Or at the very least, might have made a pass for Ramshackle. But you weren’t stupid, Jamil thought. Just horribly dense at times.

If you said you didn’t owe him anything too great, then perhaps Azul’s scheme was still underway. Still, Jamil would keep an eye on you.

“Yes, I understand,” he nodded, finished cooking the last pita and turning the stove off. “Still, I do hope you’re taking care of yourself. You helped me tremendously today, Prefect,” Jamil crossed his arms, angling his head to look at you. “I’m glad I could help,” you chuckled, taking the apron off, “anyway, I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. Ace and Deuce said Heartslabyul was running behind on Unbirthday Party preparations, and I promised Trey I’d help with the baking.” Jamil nodded, before grabbing some food containers.

“You should take some of this,” he began ladling curry into one container, and pita into another. You protested, thinking about the food containers packed away in your fridge from Azul that you’d barely made a dent in, even with Grim’s help. “Jamil, really, its fine-” He cut you off by putting them in your arms, “I insist. You helped make it, it’s only fair you take some back.” You went quiet for a few minutes, staring into Jamil’s eyes before murmuring with a small smile, “alright. Thanks, Jamil.”

—•—🐙🐍♣️—•—

Finally, you could relax now!

Your History test went well thanks to Azul’s tutoring, and you could rest easier since Jamil gave you some extra food from cooking for Kalim. Somehow, Jamil’s cooking got more delicious after each meal! And soon, you could get dessert from Trey!

The unbirthday party Trey invited you to was tomorrow, but the third year wanted some help baking a few last-minute pastries. You felt bad about having him make a second trip to deliver them. That basket was no joke - it was heavy with breads, croissants, a few muffins, and even Napoleon pastries and strawberry turnovers dusted with powdered sugar and frosting. For Trey to take it to and back, twice, all for you? You were very happy, and so was Grim.

So, when Trey asked for some help, you didn’t mind at all. He’d tell you what to do, and you’d do it - hopefully sneaking a few bites of dessert under his and Riddle’s eyes.

You knocked on the kitchen door before entering. Trey looked over, as did Ace, Deuce, a few first years. “Prefect,” Trey smiled at you, crossing his arms. He looked back at the group, “Once you’re done with that, make sure you set up the tables for the party. No slacking, understand?”

“Yep, sounds good!” Ace quipped before clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Heard you and the Vice-Housewarden are gonna be bakin’ together!” Ace smirked, “try not to miss me n’ Juice while we’re out wrangling the flamingos!” Deuce shook his head with a frown, “don’t tease them, Ace. Good luck with the baking, Prefect,” he smiled at you, before a shiver ran down his and Ace’s spines.

“You two aren’t slacking off so soon, right? The Housewarden won’t be happy.” Trey seemed to loom over them, a stern look in his eye seeming to pierce them. “No, sir!” the two of them scuttled out of the kitchens, while you stared wide-eyed at Trey. You weren’t used to him being so serious. Trey looked over your shoulder at Ace and Deuce leaving. Ace turned, flashing Trey a thumbs up and blowing Trey a mock-kiss, while Deuce smacked his shoulder and pulled him off. “Um, Trey?” you asked. His attention snapped to you, and he gave you an easy smile, “Now then, ready to start?”

You nodded quickly, “S-sure, I’m glad I could help. What should I do?” Trey thought, then took out a piping bag, “I thought I’d have you make a few things on your own. How does that sound?” Your eyes widened, “but-!” he handed you the piping bag with a mixing bowl. He looked at you gently, “It won’t be too difficult, and I’ll be here to help you.” He gently grasped your hand, and his eyes softened. “Just follow my instructions.” Your face warmed. You nodded.

Following his instructions were easy enough, and soon you were piping some madeleine cookies onto a sheet while Trey went to go get more flour from the stockroom. As you stepped back, admiring your work, you heard Trey walk back in. “Prefect, could you get the measuring cup?” You looked up, suddenly gasping. “Trey!”

Trey walked in with a massive 20 pound bag of flour over his shoulder. The bag was at least two feet long, and his arm wrapped around the large base of it to keep it stable. You dropped the piping bag, about to rush over, but he chuckled and waved you off, “I carry flour bags this heavy all the time back at the bakery, even heavier.” He calmly walked to the table and set the bag down, scooping out flour.

You eyed him, relenting since he didn’t seem to be struggling, at all. You handed him the measuring cup, and went back to the cookies while Trey sifted the flour. You hummed as you placed them in the oven, hands on your hips, admiring your work. You glanced over at Trey, who was now rolling out a thick dough.

He’d rolled up his sleeves to show off his forearms and parts of his biceps, and despite yourself, you stared. Damn, no wonder he didn’t have trouble carrying that bag. Trey’s arms were very built. His biceps bulged and tensed as he expertly rolled the dough into thin sheets.

Trey was a pretty tall guy, but it never crossed your mind that he was that strong, especially now as he delicately folded cold butter into the dough sheets to make puffed pastry. He carefully handled the dough, then went back to firmly rolling it out into thin sheets again. Your mind wandered, and you found yourself (respectfully) staring at him, watching his focused expression.

You averted your eyes when he finally glanced up, fixing his glasses, “everything alright?” You coughed, “Yeah, I got some flour up my nose.” He chuckled, fixing his glasses. You cleared your throat and went to the oven to check on the cookies, and you missed the way his expression softened at you.

The timer went off, and you cleared your throat, “I’m going to take the cookies out, Trey,” you called. You slid your mittens on, and opened the oven. Hot air rushed into your face, and you took a step back before carefully taking out the first tray. You’d made two trays of cookies, and because of the oven’s size, you’d had to put one behind the other.

You set down the first tray, and moved to carefully take the second one from behind. You’d just wrapped your fingers around the base when outside, you heard Ace and Deuce yell. You thought nothing of it, when suddenly something crashed through the kitchen doors, making both you and Trey jump.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” A pink flamingo barreled into the kitchen. Ace and Deuce ran in. You yelled in pain, dropping the tray back onto the oven shelf, yanking your arm out. When you were startled, you’d jumped and grazed your lower arm on the hot wire oven shelf. An angry burn mark appeared on the bare skin on your arm. While the three of them cornered the flamingo, you quickly grabbed the tray of cookies and shut the oven off before it burned down the dorm. You breathed heavily as Ace wrapped his arms around the bird, and he and Deuce apologized over and over. Trey led them out, and you examined your arm.

“(Name)?!” Trey rushed over to you. By now the pain was a dull throb, but Trey still took your wrist gently and examined your arm. “Are you alright?” He asked calmly, although you knew better from seeing the panic in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay, I got startled with the flamingo while taking out the cookies.” You nodded to the two trays, one slightly more cooked than the other, “They’re both fine, though.” Trey frowned, “what about you? Let me wrap your arm.”

You shook your head, “It’s just a little burn Trey, nothing-” “Sit, (Name).” Trey pulled out a stool, and you sat down, not bothering to argue. He took a cookie, now cooled, off the tray and handed it to you. You wordlessly took it and munched on it. You began to feel better as the sweet taste melted in your mouth. Trey opened a cupboard, taking out some medical supplies, and began applying a salve. You hissed when it touched your burn. “I’m sorry,” Trey began wrapping your arm with a bandage.

You laughed awkwardly, feeling the tension thicken, “This seems like a lot for a little burn.” Trey chuckled, “I wouldn’t want it to get worse. After all, I can’t have my favorite baking assistant get hurt.” Your face warmed as you made eye contact. Trey smiled fondly at you. “Want another one? It’ll make you feel better,” he waved another cookie at you, and you took it, averting your eyes shyly.

“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” you said. He nodded, putting the supplies back. “Sometimes my little siblings get hurt while baking, so I’ve done this before.” He rolled up his sleeves to show a three inch burn scar on his upper forearm, “I’ve gotten a few myself, so I know they hurt.” You gently touched his scar, making his eyes widen. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back.

“A-anyway,” Trey looked over at the baked goods, “I think that’s enough for today. This is good for tomorrow,” he smiled at you. “You’re free to go, Prefect, you should rest.” You nodded, feeling tired from the day’s events. As you gathered your things, Trey stopped in front of you. You grinned, taking the box from him, smelling the cookies and cake through the lid.

You didn’t miss the soft look from Trey as he gently rubbed your upper arm, “this is for you, see you tomorrow for the party.” He winked, and you felt your face flush.

As you walked to Ramshackle, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Trey: Hey

Trey: Don’t forget to brush your teeth after eating! See you tomorrow :)

You sighed, laughing to yourself as you walked into your dorm.

————————————————————🐙🐍♣️

lmao while i was writing Trey’s part, ‘tray’ kept autocorrecting to ‘Trey’

Thank you all for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it, likes comments and reblogs are forever appreciated! I love reading your comments, esp the chaotic ones lol

The next part should be the last one! Take care shrimpies~~~

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curseofaphrodite · 2 months

Text

Amateur Assassin

AEGON TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

Summary: After you find out that your friend had been hung simply for being a ratcatcher, you take matters into your own hands and try to kill the king.

As Aegon walked back to his chambers, he saw the women lined up alongside him, heading to the west wing. He immediately knew they were brothel workers, and that someone inside the palace had paid for their services for the night. The need for almost seven of them was impressive, and he noted that he'd find the person and applaud him tomorrow.

One of the ladies glared intently at him as she walked past, which made him do a double take. He blinked in confusion and just a bit of fear. She had a burgundy shawl over her face, so he couldn't make out if it was someone he knew. But a chill went down his back as her murderous eyes followed his.

He wondered if the Stranger his mother often spoke about was a woman.

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

TWO WEEKS AGO, BEAR'S CLAW (club by day, brothel by night)

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

"You're overdressed," someone said from behind, and you turned to spot the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She was also extremely naked, so you were just a teensy bit uncomfortable.

"Laeda said you're the one Aegon frequently... visits." You tried to sound confident, but she looked as if she saw right through you.

"And what business would you have with His Highness?"

"I want to kill him."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

It wasn't clever of you to tell her you wanted to murder her highest-paying client, but it was a bargain that paid off. Simply said, everyone was scared. Aegon and Rhaenyra's conflict seemed to grow more reckless by day, and both sides had dragons. Everyone knew it was the people who paid the price for their petty family quarrels. Getting rid of Aegon would possibly be the only way to peace, apart from your own personal reasons for vengeance.

You didn't reply. She sighed.

"You're asking for a death sentence; you're no match for his guards," she explained.

"Laeda said there's a lot of you who frequent the castle. Give me safe passage, that's all I ask."

"And why would I do that?"

She was asking for a favor in return, but you had already thought it through. Laeda was one of your childhood friends, and the reason she knew many people in town was because she had a hand in almost all of their secrets. In many ways, she was one of the most powerful people you knew.

"You owe it to Laeda," you replied, which unnerved the woman in front of you just a bit. You smiled, knowing you had won.

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

PRESENT DAY, THE CASTLE.

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

You weaseled out of the group after they went a bit farther, pressing back into the shadows of the walls till the guards were completely gone. Breathing heavily in, your hand touched the knife hidden inside your coat, then took off.

You had miscalculated just how large the castle would be. Even though you had sighted the king while he was on his way to his chambers, it still took you a good while to find the route again. You regretted coming everytime a guard almost saw you.

I'm playing at Death's door. But you couldn't think too much about it. You had to keep moving.

With your heart hammering inside, you finally saw the door of your target footsteps away. Due to extremely fortunate circumstances, no one was guarding the door. Without pushing your luck too much, you pushed the door open, and went right in.

"Varley, perfect. Bring more hot water," Aegon drawled lazily, his eyes probably closed. He was lounging in the tub, his hands resting on its sides.

Stupid, privileged, idiot.

You stepped back into the darkness of the huge curtains, peeking just enough to see him. You couldn't make your presence known yet, not until you got up close.

"Varley?" he called, sitting up. He frowned at the open door and empty room. He reached for his robes and draped them as he stood up. He looked outside the room, and you took that moment to grab his sword from the table in front of you, pulling it back into the shadows.

You already had a knife in hand, but the sword's blade seemed infinitely sharper.

Aegon closed the door, then examined the room once more. He looked at the table, and gulped.

"Who's here?" he called out, putting on a brave face. He walked to the open windows and poked his head out — as if someone had climbed in. You took that time to get out of the shadows and blocked the doorway. When he turned from the window and faced you, he quite literally let out a high-pitched scream.

"You!"

"Pray," you hissed. "Pray that gods forgive what can be forgiven, so you wouldn't be withering in the afterlife after I gut you tonight."

His breathing came more evenly, as if you were nothing more than the initial jumpscare.

"I don't know if I believe in gods." He informed.

You didn't like how he looked less scared by the second.

"Never held a sword before, have you?" he asked, nodding. You held on to its hilt tighter, not giving anything away. "I'd give you some training if you'd like..."

"I'm afraid I'd have to take that up with the next puppet of a king because you aren't making it through the night alive."

"Puppet?!" he scoffed, going to the nearest wooden table and pouring himself a drink. The nerve. "There are worse things to be called, I suppose."

Enough introductions, you thought and ran towards him, sword over your head. He yelped and jumped out of the way as you brought the sharp edge down to the wood. It almost split right into two.

"I was going to pour you a drink too, fuck!" he yelled, as if the jug that spilled pomegranate-colored content was more of a concern than how you were currently trying to murder him.

"You killed him," you said through gritted teeth. He blinked.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that."

"You killed Stranir!"

"Oh," he looked thoughtful for a while. "Actually no, no clue to who that is."

You shrieked and raised your sword again, and he sloppily rolled away from being the target.

"You killed him! Just for being a ratcatcher!"

"Now we are getting somewhere." Aegon nodded, gasping from the chase. "That was not a miscarriage of justice. One of them killed my son!"

"You killed all of them because you were too dumb to figure out which one of them did it! He was a son too!"

"Also your lover, by the looks of it."

"He was my friend, you utter buffoon!" You wondered why you were even explaining it. You caught your reflection off the blade you were holding and were immediately embarrassed. Somehow you looked more scared than him.

You heard faint footsteps in the distance. His guard was back on his duty, which meant he'd be inside the instant Aegon yells out.

Time was closing in. If you wanted him dead, you had to move now.

Aegon noticed your hesitation. His voice turned to a whisper. "You don't have to do this."

"I do," you whispered back, scared the guard would hear it. At one point, of course he would come in, and of course you'd be fucked. Why did you even have to go through this elaborate plan if you got killed for nothing?

"This castle is too big for a child," he said, his voice softer than ever. Why was he bargaining? Why wouldn't he yell out? "I know because I've been one. I hated every second of being treated like scum by my own family. I wanted it to be different for Jaehaerys. I wanted him to be loved. Nowhere good that got him, don't you think?"

You were extremely confused. "Do you often talk so much?"

"Only in the face of imminent death," he shrugged, looking more tired than ever. "You can't kill me. You won't. I'm your King."

You scoffed.

"Go on then." He sat down on his bed, almost amused. "If justice is what brought you here, it's the same justice that's holding you back now. Funny, isn't it?"

"Why aren't you calling for the guard?" you asked, unable to hold it in any longer. You wanted him to say something nefarious, anything other than the realization that grew in your mind — that this kingdom was ruled by an absolute idiot, not an evil one. You came to kill a devil, but was faced with a jester who looked just as clueless as you did.

"I don't have a lot of friends."

You blinked. Targaryens are weird, you decided.

"Even if you kill me now," he continued. "There'd be another king. Someone competent enough to call on his guard the second a pretty lady shows up with his sword. Then there'd be another. This system fucks with you till you're six feet under."

Pretty. Is this idiot flirting with me?

"You killed Stranir!"

"Hey, you didn't come here for me to justify it, did you?" he asked. "I indeed acted out of pain, but I'd do it again. I'd kill anyone over and over again if there were even rumors they killed my baby. If that makes me a bad person, I don't think I care."

"YOU KILLED HIM!" you accidentally yelled, and he groaned. The guard had presumably heard, because there was sudden shuffling outside and the door burst open.

"It's okay, we were just having a chat," Aegon told the huge guard in white cloak, who looked as if he was fury reincarnated. He looked at the sword in your hand and stepped forward, obviously not listening to what Aegon said. He probably thought the King was drunk.

The guard charged, and fear took you by surprise. You put your feet back, slipped on the liquor, and fell to the ground with a thud.

The last thing you remember seeing was Aegon kneeling before you, trying to bring you back to consciousness.

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

You woke up warm.

There was sunlight through the window and the bed you were laid in was not only comfortable, it was also familiar. You jerked up straight, realizing you were back in your own house. Your father was seated beside you, and he gasped in relief when he saw you awake.

"What, where—"

"You're okay, you're fine," your father said happily. "The guards brought you here. They're less talkative than I imagined so they didn't speak on why my daughter was inside the royal castle in the first place. Many don't make it alive so I did not object."

"I—" you noted how his words had gotten sterner at the end, but he interrupted you again.

"I'm sure there's much to be talked about, but you need your rest first. I'll come back with soup to hear all about it," he stood up, holding out a scroll. "They left a message for you, said it's of utmost importance. I've been resisting the urge to sneak a peak. Here."

You held the scroll in your hands, noting how it didn't seem very long. When you looked up to your father, he had already gone, possibly for the soup. Or only to give you the privacy to read it.

You thought about Stranir, and how he was very dear to you. You thought of Aegon, a King who never should have been. You were conflicted, to say the least. You didn't know if you should blame him or those who were foolish enough to put him on the Iron Throne.

Your questions about whether the king held any warm feelings toward you were answered in the paper. It was just one word in his sloppy handwriting, but it held its weight in gold. It meant the rumors were true, and that the war was unavoidable. It meant so many things, all of them good.

It was a warning, a plea, and goodbye all at once.

Run.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x you #hotd #fanfic #reader insert #astoria writes #aegon ii targaryen

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kevin-the-bruyne · 2 months

Text

I think the fact that we had two high profile actors have to take a step back from BL due to mental health issues in the last year alone and total 4 (krist james jimmy and chimon but also saint stepped back to bts and up also went that route before slowly dipping his feet back in) since I’ve gotten into this fandom should be an indicator that company’s need to be doing less not more.

Literally saw a fan complaining yesterday that FIRST KANAPHAN was being unfairly treated because he wasn’t getting enough work 😭😭😭 that man is literally never off my timeline how much more can he even work without dying?

When a company is doing 4 re-runs their teams are likely running on fumes and in a talent/ creator based industry you can’t just scale up endlessly resources are not unlimited. And sorry I took that so goddamn personally but burnout =/= incompetent.

They can’t just hire any fresh grad and expect them to work at the pace that the company needs them to. Even if they have talent they need to be trained and invested in and this has to happen at every level of production. There’s even a show coming out about it right now as we speak. I’m begging people to just open up a map of Thailand and realize just how small a country it is.

I can’t stand twitter because it’s an endless barrage of fans demanding demanding demanding for unreasonable things. Tumblr is my escape from that hustle and grind culture. And somehow we’ve managed to import that here.

I have the ability to mass block if I need to but also does anyone here have the ability to just chill the fuck out for a second. Like we have to be honest with ourselves here: I’m *not* a GMM fangirl you guys are just acting bananas.

#but having said that please give Podd more work #he seemed so genuinely happy to be included in all the wandee goodday promo #even though he played an antagonistic character #gmmtv #anyone who wants to argue with me about this is encouraged to block me #like that’s why I made the post #do it or come argue with me and I’ll do it jfc #y’all have made it impossible for me to watch 4 minutes because I can’t share it with anyone #everyone is being insane #when Twitter is more fun than tumblr you know something’s gotta change abt your dash

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generalllimaginesss · 9 months

Note

"Who are you again?" with Nico. I have this thought that he wants to talk to her at a bar and gets nervous and is cocky when he approaches her. And obviously she knows who he is because his face is plastered all over the city. But she can’t stand when men are arrogant so she pretends not to know him and sends him back to his table. Then maybe he sees her at a coffee shop a few days later and he approaches her there too but in a more chill way. And she continues the “who are you again” joke but actually has a conversation with him.

Just like fluffy Nico being awkward and kind of being awful but only bc he’s nervous around the pretty girl.

Honestly I feel like Nico would be the most precious boyfriend ever. Whoever gets him wins in life. But anyways….here ya go! I kind of went a slightly different route with Nico not being very nervous, but I feel like this flows ok. Thank you for requesting! Keep them coming!

••

The bar that you were currently in was loud and slightly obnoxious. Because it was later in the night, the crowd was more rowdy than you cared for, causing you to become irritable with everything.

So here you were, sitting with a friend of yours at a table in the corner, trying to avoid people at all costs, when a group of guys walk through the door, some laughing, some heading to the bar, but one in particular caught your eye.

He was tall, had brown hair that was a little messy, but his smile was hard to miss. It lit up the whole room, a refresher from the scene that had been playing before his presence.

"Is that who I think it is?" Your friend elbowed you, pointing to where the guy was propping himself up against the wall talking to somebody.

As you sat there looking at him longer, trying to place his face, the realization that the guy is Nico Hischier hits you. He's practically the face of hockey in New Jersey, how could you miss that?

You watch as somebody hands him a beer and he takes a sip, his head tipping back slightly and his eyes beginning to take in the people around him. A couple of girls ask to take pictures with him, so he obliges. Some guys go over and talk to him about the game that night, but nothing really caught his attention until he glanced around the room and saw you sitting at a corner table, already looking at him.

Immediately, you break the eye contact, hoping that maybe he wasn't actually looking at you, but he pushes off of the wall and begins to walk in your direction.

"Holy shit he's coming over here," Your friend squeals, adjusting her hair so that she looks presentable.

"Shut up," You hiss, not wanting to seem like a crazy fangirl.

Nico gets intercepted by a guy with a Devils jersey on asking for a picture, but he immediately comes to your table afterwards, pulling a chair out and taking a seat.

Something about how he didn't ask if he could sit with you hit you wrong. Sure, he was famous and good looking, but that didn't mean that he got to do whatever he wanted.

You shifted your weight in your chair, eyebrows knitting together trying to figure the guy out.

"I saw you looking at me over there," Nico nodded his head to the spot where he was at earlier.

"And what about it?" You deadpan, your friend glancing between the two of you.

"I thought you would be interested, but apparently I thought wrong," Nico chuckled, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself out of the chair to walk off. He took a few steps and stopped, turning towards you once more.

"I'm sorry..." He chuckled, running his fingers through his locks that hung just above his eyes, "...you now who I am, right?"

And that was the icing on the cake for you. You don't typically judge a person by the first couple of things they say to you, but he was so unbearably arrogant that it made your skin crawl. He might have been the captain of a successful NHL team, but the fact that he expected you to know who he was was gross. He was a human. He wasn't some god that graced you with his presence like he thought he was apparently.

"Hm, no I don't think so. Who are you again?" You chuckled, but it held zero emotion behind it. The audacity of this guy completely baffled you.

Nico bit his lip, realizing that he somehow struck a nerve within you. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed-" He started, but was cut off by your harsh tone, "Well you know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass out of you."

You collected your purse and your friend as you left a dumbfounded Nico behind at the table, scratching his neck trying to figure out what just happened.

"What was that about?" Your friend nudged you as you made your way out of the bar and down the street.

"He acted like a pretentious bitch, that's what," Pulling your coat tighter around you, you arranged for an uber to pick you and your friend up and take you home, deciding that it was time to call it a night.

-----

A few weeks passed after the encounter with Nico at the bar. It never really crossed your mind much, other than the fact that you roll your eyes every time he was shown during a game that you watched. The whole ordeal just really disappointed you because he was very attractive and seemed to be sweet in all of his interviews and moments with his team, but actions speak louder than words and his actions at the bar were loud and clear.

You were currently walking into a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that was near your apartment, preparing to have an intense study session since finals were approaching soon. The cozy ambience felt warm and welcoming, the perfect combination for you.

As you were beginning to zone in on the material before you, the bell from the door sounded, signaling a new person in the shop. Out of habit, you glance up and notice a familiar person making his way to the counter. He didn't seem to notice you at first, so you debated on gathering your stuff and leaving. However, nobody was going to have that kind of hold on you. If you wanted to study in this coffee shop, then that is what was going to happen. Even if there was a douche hockey guy.

You watched as he ordered and gave the barista his card to pay. Since he still hadn't seen you, you decided to shift your attention back to your notes, seeing that's the whole reason you were here.

You thought you got off without having to interact with him, but quickly realized that was not the case when the sound of somebody clearing their throat near you interrupted you studying.

"It's a small world, isn't it?" He flashed an innocent smile, watching as your cheeks heated, much to your displeasure.

"Seems to be," Your answer was short and to the point, hoping he'd get the hint that you were busy.

"Um, is this seat taken?" He motioned toward the seat across the table from you. Maybe he learned his lesson from last time?

"Nope," You moved your bag out of the seat so that he could sit there.

There was a few moments of awkward silence before Nico decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry about the other night. My name is Nico," His outstretched hand hovered above the table, waiting for yours to meet it.

You could have been rude and just ignored him, but there was something about the way that his little dimple indented and the softness of his eyes. He was just a beautiful person.

"Who?" You joked, causing Nico to laugh, his whole body shaking with him.

"I'm teasing, it's nice to formally meet you," Your hand connected with his and you could have swore there were butterflies going rampant in your belly.

"The other night...I don't want to make an excuse for being an ass, but it was right after a win and I still had an adrenaline rush, the boys were around, and I honestly didn't realize how rude it was until I was trying to go to sleep that night. I don't want you to think that the fame went to my head or anything. That couldn't be far from the truth," He fidgeted with the rubber bracelet that decorated his hand, making eye contact with you a few times.

"Hey, we all have our moments. You happened to catch me out of my element. Bars are not quite my scene," You giggled, recalling the nightmare that was the bar that night.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you the other night, ha, but you're beautiful. Like wow," He sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee as he grinned at you trying to control your blush.

"Why thank you," Your laugh caused a train reaction from him.

The two of you talked about so many different things. The topic of how he got into hockey came up, and then what brought you into the bar that night, the conversation just flowing effortlessly. There was never another an awkward moment after that initial one.

Before either of you knew it, 2 hours had passed. Although you should have been studying, the time spent with Nico was nice, something that you could get used to.

"I've really enjoyed this," Nico nudged your leg with his, causing tingles to erupt from the spot where he touched you.

"Me too. You definitely made up for what happened at the bar," You winked, causing him to chuckle in response.

"The team has a Christmas party coming up and I happen to be dateless right now," A cheeky grin formed as he began to gain the courage to ask you on a date.

"Well that's quite the predicament, isn't it?" You knew where he was going with it, but you decided to play along with him.

"Yeah, it is. You wouldn't know how to fix that, would you?" He licked his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth.

"I mean, there's dating apps, fangirls, I'm sure you can find somebody who would love to go with you," Smirking, you finished the last bit of your coffee that was now cold.

"There's also girls that you meet in bars who happen to go to the same coffee shop as you..." Nico trailed off as he watched your response.

"Mr. Hischier, are you asking me to be your date?" You feigned shock, covering your mouth with your hand in attempt to hide your smile.

"Wait, who are you again?" His eyes squinted mischeviously as you rolled your eyes and handed him your phone so that he could put his phone number in.

"I would love to be your date," He punched in his number and felt his phone vibrate in his pocking, signaling that you had texted his phone.

"I've got to go study for my final, so I will see you later," You announced as the two of you gathered your things and walked out together.

Nico gave you a tight side hug, one that was unexpected, but definitely wanted. His cologne was magical and he was just cozy. You walked towards your apartment, a smile etched onto your face as you immediately recall the whole conversation.

Nico glanced at his phone as he headed to his car, deciding to read the text that you had sent him:

"You're pretty cute yourself. Like wow," It read and Nico couldn't help but giggle and smile as he climbed into the driver's side of his car, shaking his head and thanking God that he was able to impress you this time.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nj devils #new jersey devils

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scarybabe · 7 months

Note

After 300, what’s your next goal?

no more goals 🥳🥳🥳

I’m a very goal oriented person so it made the most sense at the time to make big goals for my weight gain, but after having weight gain/loss goals díctate my whole life for literally over 7 years, I can’t wait to just exist without weighing myself and hoping for a certain number.

First time I gained weight, by the time I hit 185 I was SO burnt out (it took a lot of effort and I did not have a feeder) I went straight to weight loss, and even though my goals started pretty modest they spiraled out and became a source of constant strife for me. even though I was able to maintain a low weight for ~3 years, it was never enough.

Truthfully I DO feel “enough” at my current size. If I could snap my fingers and gain 50-100 lbs I would in a heartbeat but I’m exhausted of weighing myself, being frustrated at my body for resisting change, and punishing myself for not being able to make my body bend to my will. In that aspect, goal-oriented weight gain occupies a similar mental space as when I struggled with a restrictive ED despite being totally happy with my current body shape and size.

I’m SO close to 300 lbs and I love my body, I’m happy with my appearance but I want to improve my physical strength and focus on my happiness/sustainability of this lifestyle versus pushing myself (often to the point of feeling physically sick) to see a number on the scale that is honestly arbitrary because at my weight, big fluctuations are normal (hello 💩??).

7 YEARS IS A LONG TIME to constantly be trying to change my size/shape and not be able to just exist without affirming myself on a scale. Can’t wait to just be chill and happy with my body the way it is for the first time in what feels like forever and continue to enjoy my kink. I can’t help but envy other popular feedees who don’t have weight gain goals and are just along for the ride - while I don’t have any regrets I feel like if I had gone that route I would be way happier and less stressed.

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outro-jo · 1 year

Text

skz and their black cat partner

pairing: skz members x (gn) reader

type: headcanon?

warnings: none really

request: yes?

notes: i got an interesting request and i wasn’t sure how to go about it until i saw this svt reaction and so i went more this route

how i personally define a black cat personality: dark energy/vibe usually accompanied by a dark aesthetic but doesn’t always have to. not super fond of affection or prefers affection on their own terms. sassy with good quips and comebacks. has an interest in “darker” topics such as horror, the occult, “dark” psychology, etc. chronically unbothered. FIERCELY protective once you gain their love/loyalty. occasionally unhinged and feral (gets the zoomies whether physical or mental/verbal). big scorpio energy tbh

not taking requests at this time/clearing out inbox

masterlist | info

————————————

chan- think of how he is with lee know and seungmin sometimes. yeah. like when you’re sitting there like 😐😒, he’s squishing you and sticking his face in yours affectionately. you’re his baby. there are times when he respects your space but for the most part he’s all over you. most of the time he’s the protector but there have been a few times he’s seen your protective side and the pride he feels???? omg

lee know- omg he loves it sm. he already has the sunshine to his grumpy with some of the other boys. so you’re just like him. his fav thing though is when you get a burst of energy (zoomies) usually at the end of the day and you’re just goofing off with him. he LOVES to tease you. not rly the way chan does where it’s all cutesy but he just kinda pokes at you… physically and metaphorically. he just loves having someone he can chill with and really be himself.

changbin- so he likes to play that he’s this dark boy but he’s really a softie. he gets kinda nervous sometimes when you’re too quiet that he’s done something wrong but you do this thing where when you’re sitting together you take his hand and put it where you want affection at that moment. like you’ll just hold his hand or put his hand on your head and he just :> “oh so you do like me???”

hyunjin- he’s finally found someone as sassy as him. the funniest thing (for others really) is when something happens and you both kinda share the same look of confusion and disgust (judgement). everything is just really calm and lowkey with you, which he loves but then when you’re both alone you kinda bounce off the walls together.

han- beast boy x raven (gn) vibes. like he is an absolute SIMP for you. he thrives with a darker, kinda emo or goth partner. even if that’s not rly your aesthetic, he just likes having a partner that’s more lowkey to balance him out but whenever you do get your bursts of energy he always matches it and it’s kinda magical. you’re the one usually teasing him and it’s funny bc it’ll either fluster the hell out of him or like he didn’t even catch it. you 1000% become like a security blanket in human form for him.

felix- grumpy x sunshine. now, he’s not the type to poke fun at you or anything or tease you when you’re in your more quiet, grumpy moments. he just kinda sits there like the sunshine he is and loves you through it. damn, is he cute. he has you melting instantly but you obviously can’t show that. he loves to cuddle you even when you’re stiff as a board, unsure what to do with affection. felix also does this super 🫠🫠🫠 thing where he randomly tells you you’re pretty (✨gn✨) AND ITS ALWAYS WITH THE CUTEST FACE SCRUNCH and then gives you a little peck leaving you like 🧍🏻😳

seungmin- you two actually have similar energy but he’s like the dog version? i wouldn’t necessarily call him a black lab or anything, he’s just kinda the puppy version of you. (idk how to make it make sense. iykyk) you two just kinda vibe together and enjoy each other’s company without having to say a lot which is super nice. you just have this like rhythm and comfortability with each other that is just so ✨✨✨. there’s also this insane sixth sense with each other where you both feel out what’s going on in the room and know what to do without saying a word to each other. the amount of times where y’all have been hanging out with friends only to get up and leave without any notice to anyone else to be like, “yeah, we’re gonna go” bc both of your social batteries have drained and you two just need to go watch some tv. you’re both also incredibly protective of each other when necessary.

i.n- he just finds everything you do so adorable and endearing. think wednesday and enid but he doesn’t rly have the enid aesthetic, just vibes. you have more of a dark side which he admittedly kinda loves. you could be sitting there sharpening knives and he’s like, “aren’t they the cutest!” (exaggeration but you get the idea) you just exist and he’s your biggest fan though. omg you smiled at him once (kinda sarcastically) and it made his whole year.

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lovezbrownies · 8 days

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Hohoho! Requests are open, eh?

I need more of Lauren. May I please request Lauren with a darling who goes missing? First, they're absent from school, but then days passed and they still haven't come to school. Eventually it's all over the news and there's a whole investigation.

Oomf icl to u this was kind of a pain in the ass to write, I'd never written something kind of high stakes like this, and i honestly had no clue where i was going writing it but i think it came out okay! I went with the emotional route instead! Enjoy!

Missing. (F!Yandere Bully x GN!Reader.)

Lauren's Masterlist - General Masterlist.

Synopsis: You went missing, Lauren went insane.

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: Reader goes missing, emotional turmoil, Lauren kinda loses it but not in an aggressive way more like never leaving the bed way

Day 1 – Tuesday Night

Lauren sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at her phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Her thumbs hovered over the screen, as if willing it to buzz with a response from you. The silence was deafening. Her heart pounded harder with every second that passed, a sickening drumbeat of dread.

You were never late. You never missed school. The idea that you were just out of reach, somewhere in the dark, gnawed at her like sharp teeth sinking into her skin. She squeezed her phone tighter, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Maybe you were just sick. Maybe you lost your phone. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

But none of it felt right. A chill crawled up her spine as she sat alone in the quiet of her room. She could hear the faint hum of the television from downstairs, her mother probably watching some late-night news. Lauren’s mind whirled with images—what if you were lying in a ditch somewhere? What if something worse had happened? Her throat tightened as she tried to swallow the panic rising in her chest.

She wanted to call you again, but the thought of hearing the ringing tone, unanswered and hollow, twisted her insides. Instead, she typed another text, her fingers trembling.

Lauren: Just tell me you're okay. Please.

She stared at the screen, the word "Delivered" mocking her. Time slowed. Her pulse quickened. How could a few hours feel like an eternity? She threw her phone onto the bed, pressing her hands to her face, trying to steady her breathing, but all she could see was your face—the way you always smiled through your exhaustion, how determined you were to show up, no matter what. She had teased you for it, but now, in this choking silence, she wished she had done more. Forced you to stay with her. Dragged you to school. Anything but this.

Her chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Lauren felt truly helpless. That night, sleep didn’t come. Only the cruel sting of fear.

Day 2 – Wednesday

Lauren had never felt this empty. It was as if a hole had opened up inside her chest, and everything that made her "Lauren" was slowly being sucked into it. She could hear the whispers in the hallway—students and teachers alike, all murmuring your name. They didn’t know where you were either. The school felt different today, the usual buzz of laughter and chatter muted under the weight of your absence. Even the teachers seemed shaken, their glances darting to the empty seat where you should have been.

She stared down at her phone in class, willing it to light up with a text, a missed call—anything. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, her fingers shaking slightly as she typed yet another message:

Lauren: r u ok? please answer me, im going crazy here.

Nothing. No reply. She set the phone down, but her heart was already racing, her skin hot with anxiety. What if you were hurt? What if something had happened in those early hours of the morning when you were walking alone? She clenched her fists under the desk, nails digging into her palms until they left red crescents in her skin. It wasn’t fair. You were supposed to be here. Right now. Laughing at something dumb she said, rolling your eyes at her teasing. You were supposed to be here.

The day dragged on like molasses, every minute a fresh torture. By the time the final bell rang, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She was going to skip her next class, run straight to your house, and demand answers. You couldn’t just disappear. Not you.

But as soon as she reached the gate, she saw her mother’s car, waiting for her like a bad omen. Julie’s cold, stern expression meant there was no escaping today. She was trapped. As they drove in silence, Lauren’s mind screamed.

That night, the panic settled deeper in her bones. She curled up in bed, clutching her phone so tight her knuckles went white, praying for the buzz of a notification that never came. When sleep finally took her, it was full of nightmares—of you, reaching out to her from a dark forest, your face pale, your eyes pleading for help she couldn’t give.

---

Day 3 – Thursday

By Thursday, the fear had solidified into something worse—guilt. It clung to her like a suffocating fog, weighing down her every thought. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was her fault. She had let you walk to school alone. She had let you go when something inside her told her not to. If only she had insisted, forced you to ride with her, maybe you would still be here.

She skipped practice that day. There was no point in playing football when every fiber of her being was screaming at her to find you. She wandered through the halls like a ghost, barely hearing anything around her. The questions from teachers, the concerned glances from friends—all of it blended into a blur of noise. Nothing mattered except finding you.

Her phone buzzed, and for a split second, hope flared in her chest. But it was just another concerned message from a classmate, asking where you were. She didn’t reply. She couldn’t.

Her mother noticed the change in her, of course. Julie’s sharp eyes missed nothing. But all she offered were logical explanations. "They’ll turn up. Missing persons are found more often than not, especially in a small town. You’re overthinking it, Lauren."

Overthinking? Lauren wanted to scream. This wasn’t overthinking. This was raw, gnawing terror that had taken root in her stomach and wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t focus. The only thing that kept running through her mind was what she would say to you when you finally showed up. Would she yell at you? Hug you? Cry? Probably all three.

But as the day ended and there was still no sign of you, the guilt deepened. She couldn’t stop thinking about how much she had teased you, pushed you. What if you had run away? What if her constant needling had driven you off, made you hate her? The thought tore through her like a jagged blade, leaving nothing but raw, open wounds in its wake.

---

Day 4 – Friday

Friday was a blur. The weight of your absence had finally settled into Lauren’s bones, making her feel heavier, slower, like she was wading through a thick fog. The world outside kept moving—people laughing, cars honking, life continuing—but for her, everything had come to a halt.

Her phone had become an anchor, something she checked compulsively every few minutes even though she knew there would be no new messages. She hadn’t heard from you in days, and the silence was unbearable. It pressed in on her from all sides, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

By now, the rumors had spread. People were talking—about you, about what might have happened, about why no one had seen you. Every whispered word felt like a knife in Lauren’s chest. She couldn’t stand it. She wanted to scream at them, tell them to shut up, that you were fine, that you’d be back any minute. But the truth was, she didn’t know that. She didn’t know if you were okay, if you were alive. And that thought—the possibility that you might not be—was slowly killing her.

That night, she lay in bed, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. She stared at the ceiling, tears streaming silently down her face as guilt gnawed at her insides. You had always been so kind to her, so patient. And what had she done? Teased you, pushed you, maybe even hurt you without realizing it.

"I’m sorry," she whispered into the empty room,

her voice cracking as the words escaped her trembling lips. "I’m so, so sorry."

Her chest tightened with every breath, a weight pressing down on her that she couldn’t shake. It felt like drowning—an endless sea of regret and worry, pulling her deeper with every second that passed. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t think about anything but you and where you could possibly be. The image of you lost, scared, or hurt played over and over in her mind until she couldn’t bear it anymore. By the early hours of the morning, Lauren found herself curled up into a ball, tears staining her pillow as she begged the universe to bring you back.

---

Day 5 – Saturday

By Saturday, the numbness had set in. Lauren hadn’t slept in days, her body running on pure adrenaline and anxiety. Her eyes were bloodshot, her head pounding from the constant cycle of worry, guilt, and fear. She hadn’t gone to practice, hadn’t answered her mom’s questions. Nothing mattered except finding you.

The house felt like a prison. Every time she moved, it felt like the walls were closing in, trapping her with the weight of her own thoughts. She couldn’t escape them. They followed her, whispered to her, taunted her. "You should’ve walked with them. You should’ve kept them close. This is your fault."

Every time her phone buzzed, her heart leapt into her throat, only to plummet when it wasn’t you. She hadn’t left her room in hours, her fingers scrolling endlessly through your old text messages, clinging to the words as if they were the only connection she had left to you.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something, to break something, to do anything to relieve the overwhelming pressure building inside her. But instead, she just sat there, frozen in place, as the world outside continued to turn without you in it.

---

Day 6 – Sunday Morning

On Sunday, something broke inside of her. It wasn’t the sudden shock of hearing about your disappearance anymore—it was the slow, creeping acceptance that maybe… maybe you weren’t coming back. Her heart ached, raw and open, every beat a reminder of her own failure. The police had told her not to worry, that missing persons were often found within the first 72 hours. But it had been more than 72 hours. It had been five long, torturous days.

As she lay in bed that morning, staring blankly at the ceiling, her phone rang. Not a text this time, but an actual call. She sat up, her heart racing as she grabbed it, it was her football buddy, he knew of everything and had tried all he could to comfort her, sweet but Lauren never liked him. Her fingers shook as she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Lauren!! You’ll never gues-” The voice on the other end was elated but she cut him off, Lauren didn’t have the time to play the guess what game when you were missing, “John fuck off just tell me.”

"I think they found them!"

The words didn’t register at first. Found them? Found you?

"What…? What do you mean?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter the fragile hope suddenly blooming in her chest.

"They found Y/N! A couple recognized them walking near the forest this morning. They're–" John could barely finish his sentence before Lauren rushed out the house, ending the call before hearing what he had to say, she couldn’t waste time listening to that absolute loser.

---

The Reunion

Lauren didn’t remember much after that. Her mind went blank, her body moving on autopilot as she bolted out of the house, barely registering her mom’s startled shout. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything except getting to you. Her heart was racing, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she ran—ran faster than she ever had in her life.

When she arrived, you were there, sitting on a bench, disheveled and pale but alive. Alive.

The sight of you hit her like a freight train, the emotions that had been building inside her for days finally crashing down all at once. Without thinking, she ran to you, dropping to her knees in front of you and pulling you into the tightest hug she could manage. She didn’t care how dirty or exhausted you were—she just needed to feel you, to know that you were real and not some cruel dream.

"Oh my god," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "I thought I lost you. I thought—I thought you were gone."

Her words came out in a frantic rush, her hands gripping you as if she were afraid you’d disappear again if she let go. Tears streamed down her face, uncontrollable and raw, every sob a release of the fear and guilt she had been holding in for days.

"I’m sorry," she whispered into your hair. "I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve—" Her voice broke, and for the first time in her life, Lauren felt completely, utterly vulnerable. No teasing, no bravado, just pure, unfiltered emotion.

You pulled back slightly, your own eyes glassy with exhaustion, and gave her a tired smile. "I’m okay, Lauren. I’m okay."

But that wasn’t enough for her. It would never be enough. She squeezed you tighter, her heart aching with the realization of just how much you meant to her. How much she loved you. How terrified she had been of losing you.

For the first time, Lauren let herself feel everything. The fear, the love, the regret. She held you close and promised herself she would never let you go again.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #gn reader #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere x darling #oc x reader #x reader #gender neutral #yandere #female yandere #female yandere x reader #fyandere #reader gn #Lauren McCanister

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otomeowl · 1 month

Text

Impressions of all the villains as of writing-

Routes I Completely Read

William - Excellent starter villain who really went “I could make her worse 💅” Has a way deeper voice than you’d expect and it keeps surprising me every time. I really like how proactive Kate becomes, and it’s nice to have a man decently chill and not super clingy. And I’m fine with clingy, but we go a lot of clingy boys in this game already!

Liam - He’s so sweet he makes me blubber and sputter like a seal. Love how his voice purrs, but despite the game always saying he’s like a cat and super curious his route doesn’t really focus on those aspects. It has a lot of The Sad and it makes you want to give him a warm blanket. Kate and I agree sweet boy must be treasured. And Kate and Liam are also really sweet to each other and the fact that Kate was already into theater and Liam’s an actor makes me happy.

Elbert - SAD WET CAT SUMMER!!! The most interesting thing for me is how despite being The Greedy Queen and thus being the most obsessive out of all the boys once he’s into Kate he’s also one of the nicest? Like even before he’s attracted to her he’s so sweet, tender and gentle and he’s always looking out for Kate’s wellbeing? It makes me sob! Sweet Boy 2!!! It also really showcases how the curse itself affects a villain. Like previous routes there’s some bastards (fucking Jeffrey every time I think of this fucker I wanna-) who hurt Elbie, but what made his past so tragic is directly caused by the curse. Very melancholic. Aside from The Sad he’s also dense and slow-spoken when he speaks, cuteness factor is off the charts! Not to mention his friendship with Alfons I could write a six-page essay on that.

More about incomplete and unreleased routes under the cut

Incomplete Routes

Harrison (Read Summaries but Haven’t Started His Route)- I’m sorry I keep setting him aside 😭😭😭. I want to get his 22 bond first before doing the route but I should probably just read it already after finishing up Elbie. I also haven’t read most of his events because they’re all after he and Kate get together. Strangely this makes me more intrigued by Harrison since I’m purposely leaving myself in the dark. From what I gather though he’s even more chill than William and despite his curse he seems like a decent fella.

Alfons (Japanese Only, Read Summary) - Stay away from Kate 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪. I simultaneously love reading about his character but hate hate hate him using his illusion power to make Kate do things. It’s not my thing and every time he has a scene with Kate I’m like don’t fucking dare 🔪. Love his interactions with Elbert and I’m really intrigued by him but every time he uses illusion power I’m skipping 🛑✋🛑✋. Has a nice voice though. Listen to Kate when she says he is a literal nightmare though.

Ellis (Japanese Only, Read Summaries and Translations up to Ch. 10)- SWEET! BOY! THREE!!! He’s the most outwardly kind to Kate, but he’s also super caring to all his fellow villains. He’s even sweet to Jude, and Jude going “ew” every time he does makes me chuckle. But he’s also one of the most dangerous to Kate so far. Out of all the villains (aside from Vogel that’s tbd) he’s somehow the most likely to kill her. So every time he asks if she’s at her happiest I’m like 😳😳😳 and then she says no and I go 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨. Probably has my favorite voice, so gentle yet so creepy. Out of all the villains (again aside from the newbies) he keeps the effects of his curse close to his chest the most.

Roger (Japanese Only, Read Translations up to Ch. 3) - Another man who needs to practice personal space with my Kate! 🔫🔫🔫. And yet another really interesting character in spite of that. Unlike his fellow Crown members he’s the most determined to fight against curses. I’ve only read three chapters of his route so far (translated by dark-frosted-heart) and so far I’m interested to see where it goes. I’m really intrigued to see how Vogel plays a part since Roger’s the first route to feature them, it’s a good way to draw people in! Voice is nice but I’m not hunting down his voice line the way I am with other villains.

Unreleased Routes

Jude - Rude Boy Rude Boy Rude Boy! One of the funnest villains with his attitude and how trouble follows him around. I’m not into how cruel and disrespectful he is to Kate but sometimes Kate is kinda into it? The amount of events where Jude is surprised when Kate’s a little too turned on by him being a meanie makes me laugh. I’m really interested in his route to see how many fights break out and how many kinks Kate discovers 🤣. Also interested in his attitude towards love and making promises.

Victor - Guys I love him so much I wanna sneak into the kitchen at night and eat scones with him too! So gentlemanly! So suave! So villainous! I want his route NOW!!!! His voice is nice but what really sells it is how cheerful he is! You can really hear the ✨ sparkle ✨ in his voice. And how he’s such a dad to his sons fellow villains! I want to hold this man and give him a tight squeeze and maybe commit crimes for him.

Nica - The literal definition of a Bad Boy who plays with girls’ hearts, hmph! 😤 I can’t stop thinking of a certain German prosecutor in ace attorney every time he injects German in his sentences. The Bad Boy girlies are gonna be suuuuper into him but I’ll have to see what else he’s got. I like how he cares for his twin a lot though.

Ring - S-sweet boy four??? Seems like a strong silent type but it looks super easy to break his tough exterior. His unconditional trust in his brother and Darius makes me feel like I need to hold his hand when he crosses the street! He’s a real cutie but given how all our previous sweet boys have a dangerous side I’m keeping my eye on him! I’m worried that his curse is to have his feelings affected by touch, as a foil to how his brother can cause others to feel affected by his touch, which makes me even more worried for him.

Darius - I’m having Gilbert flashbacks and can’t stop mumbling “this motherfucker” under my breadth. Really interested in what he’s hiding and I can’t stop listening to his voice. I don’t appreciate him hating my Victor though! Guards, put him in a jar and shake him violently!!!

Feel free to reply/reblog with your own impressions of the characters!

#ikemen villains #ikevil

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