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jaylver · 1 year

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HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — P.JS

SYNOPSIS: Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!jay x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to frenemies to lovers, fake dating au, college sports au, romance, fluff, angst, secret pining

WARNING(S): drinking, parties, profanities, slight violence, possessive jay, mentions/hints of cheating, miscommunication, slow burn-ish, a pinch of suggestiveness

WC: 21k

AUTHOR NOTES: yes, the title is based on taylor swift's song, the story is lowkey inspired from it hehe! i also included a scene which was inspired from "sleet kitten" so credits to that ;) PLEASE LEAVE A FEEDBACK! it would mean THE WORLD to me <3 hope you enjoy!

part 2 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

“WHY AM I HERE?”

You found yourself asking your best friend, Minji, only after barely ten minutes of setting foot into the party. Look, you didn’t wish to complain, but a beach party basically equaled sand in shoes, which you absolutely hate and despise, yet you were stuck here against your will.

It all started on a random stroll across campus where Minji brought up the night beach party hosted by some rich frat boy, typical. Being the anti-party person you were, you brushed the idea away initially. Hey, staying in bed with a cup of tea was miles better than having sand in your shoes and frat boys trying to get into your pants, yuck. But eventually, you gave into the idea of relaxing and letting go for once after a horrid chemistry test. How you absolutely regretted that choice now.

“You’re here to enjoy yourself,” Minji hissed through her teeth, holding onto your hand as the two of you walked past strangers. “What’s wrong with getting free booze and some hot hunky beach boys?”

“Everything is wrong with that. Their booze sucks and the beach boys hide at night,” you huffed, hugging your body tight as the wind blew across your face, the smell of sea lingered in the air.

“There are still some cute guys here,” Minji kicked at the sand lightly, staring around where people were littered in groups here and there, a small bonfire alighted in the middle of the beach. “The hockey guys are here,” she nodded at the loudest bunch in the area.

You knew a part of them since you did occasionally stop by to watch a few major hockey games, but definitely not well enough to pair their names to their faces. You spotted the captain first and the one with freshly dyed white hair, who you recognized was also his usual partner on ice, then there was the player with a really odd number, 99. Was it Jason, James or Jeremy? All you could remember was him being number 99 and having a J name, not to mention, an interesting reputation to his name.

"They're cute, don't you think so?" Minji nudged you and you shrugged.

"Cute but fuckboys, and I need them to step up during major games too,"

"You should ignore the hockey part about them. It'll hurt less when they lose," Minji's head turned and she pointed to another group. "The footballers are there too. Trust me, they're bigger fuckboys,"

"Oh, I can tell," you spotted many of them already having a girl by their sides, whispering and giggling while they poured each other more drinks. "This is why I'd rather go back to the dorms,"

"Maybe, maybe not. Something entertaining will eventually happen at these types of parties,"

"I feel like you'll jinx it,"

Minji threw her hands up in defence, raising her eyebrows and shrugging. "Don't blame me, blame the system,"

"There's no system," you shot back, suddenly feeling the need to walk away for a moment as the beach slowly overwhelmed you. (you hated the beach, can't you already tell?) "I need to stop by the restroom for a while, look after my drink, will you?"

You were practically racing to the nearby restroom, finally escaping the area and being able to breathe freely without drunk college students bumping into you. The restroom was basically just a single cubicle, so you were squeezed tightly and you felt uncomfortable as each second passed. You were praying to God that you get to leave this place pronto.

Leaving the cubicle made you feel slightly more grateful about the beach, but upon only a second from exiting, you started hearing shouts coming not far from where you were. At first, you wondered if you’ve reached the point of hallucination, but following a few more grunts and yells, you knew you weren’t. Your body tensed immediately considering it's a distance from the main area. What could even be happening here?

You knew this was how horror movies usually start, but your curious mind just had to wander off further into the abyss and bring your leg along, so you chose the stupidest decision and followed the distant commotion.

'I'm not dying tonight. I'm not dying at a beach. I'm going to be fine' were the affirmations you repeated in your head, though you felt quite the opposite of that.

"Fuck you, are you banging my girl?"

That was when you stopped in your tracks completely, thrown absolutely off guard, eyes widened and lips forming into an 'O'. It wasn't a murder case, but from the way the conversation sounded, it was about to be one.

"I didn't bang your girl, who the fuck are you?" Another voice spat back and you inched closer, hiding behind the other cubicle and you peeked your head out, shocked at the sight before you.

There was already a small crowd surrounding the commotion, who wouldn't want to miss a free show anyway? But the bigger matter on hand was the centre of attention, the two guys were the campus' well known hockey player and footballer.

You recognized the footballer at once, remembering the time where Minji practically shoved his Instagram profile into your face. Yoon Keeho. Star player paired along with his amazing features, he was a popular figure who had a popular girlfriend from the dance team, Karina. They were basically every comics' perfect couple.

Then there was the hockey player, your jaw could only hang lower in plain shock. Mr 99, hockey star and infamous playboy, you knew he was trouble, but this kind of trouble? A little unexpected from him.

"Look man, I know people say I fuck around a lot, but I never fucked her!" It was obvious Mr 99 was starting to get heated, but the footballer was relentless in egging him on.

"Oh fuck off man, I know you did it!"

This back and forth had you rolling your eyes, eventually getting bored from the “no I didn't”s and “yes you did”s thrown back and forth, so you slowly crept back, trying your best to avoid tripping over rocks and shells.

'Crack'

You spoke too soon. Way too soon.

"Hey!"

You took a few cautious steps ahead. Maybe if you just pretend nothing happened and continue walking, it would be fine. Maybe if you walked away, he wouldn't notice—

"Hey!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, contemplating between immediate death or a quick dash away, but neither could be decided when the voice kept on calling after you, ruining your patience completely and you whipped around, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yes?"

Mr 99 stared back at you, a sinister look in his eyes. From the looks of it, he had something evil brewing in that head of his and soon, you were about to be the victim of his dodgy plan.

What came out of his lips next definitely made you wish you were home instead and simultaneously, wishing you had the freedom to strangle him. This fucker—

"That's my girlfriend there, she can vouch for me," you heard him telling Keeho, a smug smile on his face. Girl … friend? Gasps were heard and all eyes were on you in an instance. "Come here, babe, I've been looking for you!"

You blinked, your body absolutely rigid and unmoving as if paralysed. This couldn't be happening, right? Please wake me up from this dream. I'm just hallucinating—

"Babe, come on," your brief dissociation had you completely unaware that Mr 99 was now in front of you, dragging you by your wrist towards the scene of commotion.

"What are you doing?" You whispered harshly into his ear, making sure it wasn't loud enough for the other couple to realise from a distance away.

"Play along, please, I'll pay you," he pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. Who were you to say no to free cash? Nevertheless, you still hated being the centre of attention, and Mr 99 here was only making matters worse.

"I don't even know you,"

"I'm Jay from literature, so technically now you do. Just help me for a few minutes," he grunted through his gritted teeth, flashing his best version of puppy eyes that failed to execute its purpose.

“Do you even know my name?” you hissed lowly, glaring pointedly at him. He could only sigh in exasperation. He had the audacity to seem annoyed while you were literally the one who’s getting dragged to her demise.

“You’re Y/N from English literature. We have the same classes and I’m not a douche for not knowing my classmates, okay?” you were slightly pleased, but not enough to be someone’s fake girlfriend for show. Against your free will, you and Jay were finally standing face to face with the couple.

"So you're his girlfriend?" Keeho had an eyebrow raised, a sense of accusation and suspicion in his gaze. He was so not buying this.

You glanced at Jay, face twisted in uneasiness, not loving the idea of this, but instead, he shot you an encouraging look which was screaming 'go on, tell him'. "Y–yeah. Girlfriend,"

Keeho was unconvinced and you couldn't blame him, you were doing a shit job at pretending to be someone you weren't. "Where was your boyfriend yesterday at night? Was he out?"

"He—" the words got stuck in your throat and Jay raised his eyebrows at you, mouthing some random words you totally couldn't decipher. "He went out on a date with me,"

"To?"

"Baskin Robbins …?"

Keeho remained unamused, his girlfriend holding onto him snickering silently under her breath, and you, on the other hand, got naturally defensive.

"What's wrong with ice cream? At least my man cared enough to bring me out for ice cream dates instead of letting me cheat on him freely. Just saying,"

"What?"

Now it was Keeho and Jay's turn to stare at you with their jaws hung low. Karina's face gradually grew scarlet, her lips twisted into a snarl. "What do you even know about my relationship? Keep out of my business, you bitch,"

"Hey, who the fuck are you to call her a bitch?" Jay stepped in front of you, an arm shielding you and Karina cowered away. Damn, he was good at this.

"Don't talk to her like that, you fuck," Keeho spat at Jay, daringly pushing Jay on the chest and he stumbled slightly into your arms.

Jay scoffed, brushing his front and adjusted his shirt, shaking his head a little. "You're such a dick, Yoon Keeho. You're the prime example why I hate footballers,"

"And you hockey players are the reason why you're dragging the school's name to the ground,"

"Save the talk, we literally won the playoffs while you and your team could barely crawl to the top—"

You gasped, and so did everyone else watching. Keeho had thrown a hard punch across Jay's pretty face, which meant Jay's aggravation unfortunately worked a little too well on the footballer.

To your surprise, Jay took the hit better than you'd expected. He did seem taken aback at the start, but then he started laughing instead. Was he secretly psychotic?

You would be lying if you said you weren't shell shocked initially, but after a moment of recovery, you peeked over his shoulder, staring at his face for any obvious bleeding or bruising, unaware of how close your face was to his.

"You okay, big man?"

"Took it like a champ," he muttered back, a smirk pulled at his lips, seeming as though nothing had even happened. "Permission for me to punch him back, girlfriend?"

"He's all yours. Go beat his ass, boyfriend,"

Jay shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing the side of his face roughly and in a flash, he threw a punch back at Keeho and panicked whispers broke out in the crowd.

"Look man, this is a misunderstanding, I totally didn't fuck your girlfriend," Jay panted, his eyes narrowing at Karina.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped back, but her voice wavered, giving away the fact that she was obviously hiding something and was intimidated by the way Jay could see right through her.

"Oh come on, fess up, I'm pretty sure I saw you with Yeonjun,"

Karina stilled, her eyes beginning to twitch. Bingo. You didn’t sit through a boring psychology talk once for nothing.

"You don't know shit about me,"

"Okay, say that to Yeonjun the next time he finds you,"

Maybe you did regret having too big of a mouth. You just had to blabber on and agitate the mean girl and now you were reenacting a scene from one of your favourite high school rom coms.

Before you could even register what's happening, you felt a sharp tug at your hair and pain washed over your whole head. Getting bald wasn't the thing you wished for upon reaching here. You screamed on instinct, reaching over to grab Karina's hair in defence, invoking a loud cry from her.

Jay and Keeho were left stunned at the turn of events. Hell, you were stunned at the attack yourself. Who would've thought you would be sacrificing strands of hair to Miss Dancer? They eventually came to their senses (thank heavens) and tried to pull you and Karina off of each other. It was strenuous work just trying to break you two apart, your hand was unwilling to let go and neither were hers.

She might’ve been a dancer, but you’ve experienced more fights than this. Jay managed to rip you off of Karina and you were left dishevelled, heaving heavily, Jay's hands wrapped around your chest from the back.

"Calm down. Breathe. You're so close to ripping all her hair out," he whispered into your ear, his breath fanning your ears. If you weren't so out of breath and adrenaline spiked, you would be weak in the knees by now.

"Good. She was the one who laid her hands on me first," you spat, glaring straight at her and she did the same, hair and attire equally as messy as yours.

"Look man," Jay called out to Keeho, grabbing his attention away from his murderous girlfriend. "I might fuck around a lot, but I swear I didn't touch your girl. I never stoop that low and you know it. Go ask her for the truth yourself, I'm leaving now,"

Jay got ahold of your hand and pulled you away from the wandering eyes and lingering attention. You almost got a whiplash, unable to even yourself completely together and digest what even went on before he dragged you towards the main area.

"Woah, woah, wait," you yanked your arm away, stopping abruptly which made Jay turn around, a questioning look on his face. Why is he looking at me like that? You thought as you crossed your arms.

"Look, you might've saved my ass from Miss Crazy over there, but the part where you dragged me in your stupid drama, so not cool,"

"I know, I'm sorry, okay? You were just coincidentally … there,"

"Wow," you exclaimed in disbelief, face scrunched in slight distaste. "Girlfriend, huh … I hate to burst your bubble but there were people there and if—" you poked at his chest and he stared at you, a slight smirk on his lips, "—people actually believe we're dating, I'll beat you up,"

"What's so wrong about me?" He whistled, leaning down to meet your challenging gaze, a sarcastic grin wide on that devilish face of his. Maybe if he wasn't this annoying, you would've found him pants-dropping hot.

"I hate you," you continued your journey back, brushing past him and he could only let out a laugh at your words.

"Oh, come on," he caught your wrist and pulled you to him, making you land on his chest with a soft thud. If only someone could take a picture of this, it would be something straight out of a 2000s classic romcom.

"You're ridiculous, let go," you tried to get your hand out of his, but he persisted in holding onto you.

Pushing and pulling was something you hated. Whether it was in relationships or just whatever this was, you wished it was gone, because in the next second of tug of war, one of you decided to lose balance and fall to ground.

To your biggest nightmare and headache, you ended up lying on top of Mr 99, Jay, the devil in disguise. The beach was already a nightmare for you, but a fucking man under you? You wished you could disappear now.

"Do you always like this position?"

"If only I could choke you to death in it, then sure,"

"Kinky. You're really romantic,"

"I know," you gritted out, finally mustering all your energy to push yourself up and away from Jay, almost losing your balance in the process. You definitely wouldn't want to fall on him again.

You dusted sand off of your shorts, peeking slightly at Jay, who remained on the ground, his hands behind his head to support him as his stare remained on you, a small smile on his face. You truly wondered what was running through that head of his. Knowing him, it was probably nothing good.

“Do you think we’ll meet again after this?”

You scoffed, a frown etched on your features. “You’re acting like I’m cinderella. I’m on the campus,”

“I mean, we both might be on campus, but that doesn’t mean we’ll cross path,”

“It sounds like you’re trying to propose something—” Jay opened his mouth to respond, but you continued off, not letting him interrupt, “—whatever it is, it’s a ‘no’ from me, okay?”

“Alright, rude,” Jay pushed his body up from the sands, sitting cross legged paired with an offended look. “I’m not trying to propose anything. What’s that dirty mind of yours thinking? I was simply wondering,”

You squinted at him, doubt in your gaze and your face scrunched, humming softly. “Let’s leave our next meeting to fate again. I’m afraid if I keep seeing you I might—”

“Fall in love?”

“Explode. Close enough,” you grimaced, shaking the sand off your shoes. "Look, I'm leaving now. Good luck on not getting beat up again," you turned to leave, but halting once Jay spoke again.

"Will I be seeing you at my matches?"

You pondered for a second, then shrugged. "Depends. I'm not a big hockey fan, but who knows?"

You heard a small chuckle from Jay, rolling your eyes a little. "Fine by me. Let's see how fate sets us up then, Y/N."

You wished fate didn't set you and him up. You wished fate would never ever do so. You didn’t wait for another minute and quickly dashed away, finding your way back to the main area that (thankfully) wasn’t far from where you were. It seemed that the fight didn’t reach the main area where everyone was from the way they were all dancing and drinking like normal.

“Where were you?” Minji pulled you close to her once you had managed to locate her amongst the bunch, concern laced in her voice. “And what the fuck happened to you? Why’s your hair messed up? Wait—” the worry in her gaze soon turned into suspicion. “You didn’t have a secret hookup right?”

“What? No!” you shrieked, glancing around in slight embarrassment at your voice rising unintentionally. Just thinking about what had happened just now gave you a first degree burn of embarrassment, it was going to be your first and last experience, never again. “I … got into a fight,”

“You what?”

“Listen,” you placed a hand on Minji’s shoulder, trying to calm her down while inching closer and making sure to keep your voice down. “I stumbled upon a messy couple related drama and somehow I got roped into it. It’s all Jong Seong’s fault, okay?”

“Jay? What did he do?”

“Accused of fucking Keeho’s girl. It would be funny to witness the whole thing without being apart of it, honestly,”

“I need more context,”

“He called me his girlfriend so that I could vouch for him and I said something bad to Keeho’s girlfriend so we … kinda got into a tussle,”

Minji was stunned to say the least, but there was still a hint of amusement from the way she smiled. “I won’t directly say she deserves it, but she does,” she let out a small laugh and you two shared a look before bursting out laughing, having to hold your chest from the random jokes she threw in between.

“So, time for us to leave?”

“Fucking finally, I was waiting for you to say this,”

“No girls trips to the beach in the future, huh?”

“Nope.” you mumbled, letting Minji wrap an arm around your waist as the both of you start making your way to Minji’s car. You strangely felt a pair of wandering eyes pinpointed on you and you turned your head slightly to the right, meeting Jay’s playful gaze among his group of hockey guys. It was barely a second before you were dragged away anyway, leaving you minimal chances to process anything.

Park Jong Seong, please don’t ever drag me into your schemes ever again. Fuck it, let’s never cross paths again.

IT SEEMS THAT FATE HAS PLAYED ITS ROLE ONCE MORE IN TORTURING YOU.

In what way was ‘never getting involved with Park Jong Seong’ so hard to understand, huh, fate? You found yourself having an angry internal monologue on the way back to your dorms, your coffee threatening to spill out of the cup with the aggressiveness in your walk. It all started out like this: you just got your donut for the morning, walking to lecture with your earphones blasting your favourite music, what could possibly go wrong? Everything.

You were just walking as per usual, until a girl tapped you from the back, and like every normal person does, you stopped and turned around, a confused look on your face. Who’s this? You wondered. That’s the last thought you could form before everything started crumbling eventually.

First, she asked whether you were dating Jay. Eye roll. You knew this was bound to happen. So, you said ‘no’, which was a reasonable answer since you were, in fact, not dating him. But the girl thought otherwise. You turned to leave, halfway to shoving back your earphones in when she grabbed hold of your wrist. Woah.

“I know you’re dating him, everyone do after he made y’all official during that party,”

“Okay…?” it was no use trying to fight back with her persistence, so you just went along with it, not knowing what you were even getting into.

“You do know he fucked me before right—?” TMI much. “Can you tell him to come over and get his stuff? It feels wrong having a man’s stuff around knowing he’s in a relationship,”

“Oh,” was all you could muster out. This whirlwind of information being smacked into your face at 10 in the morning was something you hadn’t expected. “You can tell him that yourself. I’m … busy. I have to go,”

Like any sane person would, you dashed away, possibly leaving the girl in a confused daze but you couldn’t care less, pulling out your phone to angrily type Jay’s Instagram handle and sending him an annoyed text message.

you: a girl just told me she fucked you and she felt it was wrong that you left your stuff while you’re ‘dating’ me. can you please sort this out? istg i’ve been asked too many times whether i’m dating you today fr

Not even after a minute of sending that, Jay replied back at once.

jaypjs: how did you know what my Insta profile is?

You rolled your eyes, your fingers working hard but careful to not accidentally break your screen with the vigour you had whilst typing.

you: is that so important right now? can you at least answer my question?

jaypjs: just ignore it, it’ll pass soon, i swear. ttyl i have practice ;)

Jerk.

As much as Jay had asked you to ignore it, it seemed to have backfired instead. At the library, cafeteria, girl’s restroom, you were bombarded with the same question over and over again. ‘Are you dating Jay?’ You swore if you had a dollar everytime someone had asked you this question, you would’ve been a billionaire by now.

Evening soon fell upon the campus grounds, students were rushing around to find a place for dinner, but the hockey team were still remained in training, and being you, you just had to impulsively barge into the arena, practically rushing down the stairs to the glass panes, spotting your target at first glance.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him mesmerizingly attractive in that split moment. He reminded you of someone that had just appeared straight out of a scene from ‘Top Gun’, except on ice. He had his helmet in his hand, his hair wet with sweat, his eyes trained on his coach as he lectured the team on that and this.

You thought your staring had gone unnoticed, but that’s when one of his teammates pointed at you, his gaze turning to you now, a hint of curiosity and surprise in his face. If only he knew you were actually there to murder him.

“Y/N?” You heard his muffled voice through the glass as he skated towards you right after his coach had dismissed them, inching closer and closer until there was barely any distance, only a singular glass pane separating you two apart.

“Jay,” you started, pushing down whatever volcano that was close to bursting inside you right now.

“Did my girlfriend miss me so much until she decided to give me a surprise visit?”

“If I hear that word one more time today, I think I might jump down the nearest building,” you snapped, poking a finger on the glass threateningly. “Look, I’m here because we need to talk—why does this sound like an actual couple conversation—whatever, just get your ass out here immediately,”

“Fine, fine,” Jay threw his hands up in defeat, sensing the seriousness in your voice, you did not come to play. “I’ll be out in a second,”

He disappeared out of sight, and to your dismay, that left his teammates a great opportunity to approach you. Just your luck, huh?

“You’re dating Jay?” the captain, Heeseung, shouted over at you, waving his hockey stick in the air in an attempt to grab your attention.

“It’s complicated,”

“Friends with benefits?” the one with a head of freshly dyed white hair, Sunghoon, chimed in. You recognized the both of them from the party, what are the odds?

“Non-physical type of complicated,”

“That does sound complicated,” Heeseung hummed, practising passes with Sunghoon. “Played with your feelings?”

“I don’t know if I can count it as that…yet,”

Heeseung and Sunghoon shared a brief glance at one another. “Jay might be a playboy, we all know that, but he’s a softie at heart. Hear him out, he might not look like it, but he’s the best at talking,”

“That’s why he’s so good at picking up girls—” Heeseung slapped Sunghoon’s head, giving you a small reassuring smile while the other winced in pain, not appreciating that one bit.

“I’ll hear him out, don’t worry,” you said rather begrudgingly, sitting down on one of the empty seats now, rubbing your hands for warmth as you awkwardly waited for Jay.

“Stop pestering her already, damn,” Jay’s footsteps were heard thumping down the stairs in the empty arena. “Go wash up,” he slid into the seat next to you, now in clean clothes, a towel hung around his neck, his hair wet and messy, his shirt hugging his body and biceps tight. Lord, give me strength.

“Hey! I’m the captain!” Heeseung shouted, but abided, pushing Sunghoon along and out of the rink, leaving you two to yourselves in the ambiance.

“So, what did you want to … talk about?” Jay stared at you expectantly.

“Us? I suppose, if there’s even an ‘us’ in the first place,” you gestured between you and him. “It’s just everyone’s thinking we’re together and all your past fuck buddies are up my ass for it. So—” you tried to put on the nicest smile you could muster. “—could you please, somehow spread it around that we’re not together?”

“But what if I don’t want to?”

“Jong Seong!”

“Government name and all, it’s serious,” he murmured under his breath, suddenly seeming anxious. “You’re going to kill me for this—”

“As if I’m not going to already,”

“Let me finish,” he pressed a hand on his forehead, running it further back into his hair and he let out a distress sigh. “I know you’re going to hate this but I need your favour in this. I have this hockey event next Saturday, a charity event, and I need a plus one,”

“You’re asking me out on a date basically?”

“Kinda? But not really—this is so stupid—but this event will be after a home match, so our opponents and many others from different schools will be a part of this event. The thing is…our opponent, one of their players, is dating my ex,”

“And?” you raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue on, his cheeks gradually turning red in embarrassment.

“They’ll be there together, and I was hoping—since we’re already in this mess—to bring you as my plus one, to try and prove to her I’m way better off without her,”

“You’re kidding,” you breathed out in disbelief. “Give me one reason why you need to prove to this girl about you being happy and taken,”

“She cheated on me multiple times while we were dating…the guy was one of them and they’re still together surprisingly,”

“Damn, I’m sorry about that,” you swallowed, a little taken aback from the fact that the infamous fuckboy had his heart broken in the past. Maybe that was the starting point of his fuckboy journey. Gosh, everything felt so cliche, you thought you were in a web series by now. “So…you want me to fake date you?”

“Why are you saying it as if the idea of dating me is an offence?”

“Jay, this isn’t some 2000s romcom, for fuck’s sake,” you snapped, your frown deepened and your blood pressure heightened. You swear you might actually explode soon.

“I’m aware,” Jay sighed, a small whine in his voice. He did seem desperate, and you wondered why out of a hundred girls that were practically lining up for this man, you just had to be the one that had to be a part of this mess with him. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Worst of all, you were about to agree to something as dumb as this. “Help me out this once?”

“And what will I get from this?” you crossed your arms, hesitatingly giving in slowly and gradually.

“You like Juyeon don’t you?” Jay questioned all of a sudden, his features remained stoic and serious as he watched you experiencing another whiplash, cheeks turning into a shade of light pink at his bombarding question.

“W–where did you get that information from?” you demanded, completely thrown off. Look, you did say you liked him a little from his sweet smile to his nice style, and not to mention, his athletic side, but it was to Minji, not Jay. How in hell could he have this information?

“I’m not wrong am I?”

“Am I being blackmailed?” you gasped and Jay rolled his eyes, leaning further back into his seat. He wasn’t making this easier by looking good. “I don’t like like him in that type of way, I just think he’s kinda cute,”

“So, you’re interested,”

“You could put it that way, I guess?”

“How about I help you make him jealous,”

You choked out a laugh, Jay surely succeeded in always surprisingly you with the way his mind turned. “Dude, I literally only know him from that one Chemistry class, and we were partners once. We barely talk now except some greetings,”

“That’s better than nothing,” he mumbled, his lips pressed in a flat line. “Hey, I know him more, okay? He goes to parties and so do I, I can help you get closer to him,” Jay raised his eyebrows, as if trying to convince you that was the smartest plan ever.

“You’re an idiot,”

“I don’t hear a ‘no’,”

“Don’t push your luck,” you poked his forehead gently, letting out a deep sigh as you contemplated for a second. Future you was going to kill the present you. “Fine. But honestly, I don’t care about Juyeon,”

“I’ll try my best to repay you either way,” Jay beamed, his whole demeanour changing entirely compared to the nervous and shaking version from earlier. “So, what ground rules should we set to make it at least quite convincing?”

“No kissing, unless we are pressured into one,”

“You’re not completely objecting the idea of kissing me,”

“Believe me, I’d rather have virgin lips than kiss you,”

“Ouch,” Jay held onto his chest, feigning hurt. “Wanna try practising?”

“You have other girls to practise on anyway, no thank you,”

“But you’re my only girl now,” he shrugged, staring down at his fingers and avoiding your stare. Was he shy? You would be lying if you said he didn’t make your heart flutter slightly with his words, but you forced yourself to push those thoughts down, denying them instantly.

"Shush," you rolled your eyes, the man opposite you snickering instead. "Maybe a soft launch might work,"

"I literally called you my girlfriend in the middle of a fight, I don't think that's any part of a soft launch,"

"You're right, we've already skipped that part," you tapped at your chin, pondering thoughtfully before Jay interjected.

"You have to come to my matches,"

"Every one of them? I don't watch hockey much,"

"Just be there for show, most of the teammates' girlfriends are there and trust me, they don't care much either," he glanced over at the rink for a brief moment, then turned back to meet your eyes. "You'll fall in love with me the moment you watch me play,"

"Alright, hotshot. When's the next match?"

“This Friday,” he winked, resting an arm on the seat and casually leaning a little closer. “But before that, wanna come to a party? It’s pretty much a ‘pregame party’, that’s what they call it, but I’m sure it’s a lame excuse to just have a party in general for every week. I can pick you up though, we'll get to have our second hard launch,”

“You’re lucky I’m not feeling murderous anymore,” you snapped back, still in disbelief at yourself that you actually agreed to all this. “Pick me up at 7,” you mumbled begrudgingly, watching a smile stretched on Jay’s face.

“Say less.”

“YOU’RE DATING WHO—”

Spilling the tea to Minji on a random Wednesday morning was a chaotic decision. You couldn't help yourself from letting loose all of the information that was bottled up internally. She took everything in rather calmly and fairly, that was until Jay's name was mentioned.

It was just a day before the party, and you couldn't lie, you're starting to panic. What if you didn't know anyone there? What if you're under dressed? What if you're overdressed? What ifs stormed your mind, you were a natural overthinker after all.

"Fake dating," you corrected, cringing once the words left your mouth and you realised how ridiculous it sounded.

“I didn’t know you liked Wattpad cliches so much,”

"Shut up," you muttered half-heartedly, pursing your lips slightly. "Do you think I'll regret this?"

"Will you end up falling for him?" Minji shot back and you hadn't expected that.

"God forbid," you chuckled, though rather nervously. Chances were low at the moment, but it wasn't completely impossible, and that was the problem.

“This won’t be like those movies where they pretend to date and actually end up falling in love,” you laughed, trying to play off the hidden horror you had.

"This will come back and bite your ass," Minji said simply, not noticing your wide eyes and panicked gaze.

"Don't jinx it, hello!"

"My bad," Minji shrugged nonchalantly. “How did he even convince a non party goer like you to attend one?”

“He wants to ‘hard launch’ us for a second time,”

“Cute?” Minji mused, nudging you softly, wiggling her eyebrows. "Any outfits planned?"

"Nope," you regretted saying this because in the next second, you noticed a menacing grin on Minji's face. If there's one thing you know about her, it's that she loves dress ups, and you were about to be her next model.

Minji dragged you back to your dorm, pushing you onto the bed and ripping your closet doors open, rummaging through intensely.

"This won't do," you heard her mumble quietly before pulling out a mini skirt and a simple crop top. "Bingo,"

"You can't be serious,"

Turns out, she was. Both of the pieces have yet to be worn in a long time, so you didn’t know how it would fit you, leading up to the moment when you tried it on, you instantly felt your head pound. The skirt was God forbiddingly short, the crop top hugging tight against your body. The entirety might've looked plain, but it was a slutty plain.

You were already running late, panic and stress in your system giving you slight adrenaline as you finished up some last touches on your makeup. If Minji wasn't out for a dinner date, you would've been strangling her for the outfit and for the untimely lack of support.

“You took quite a while in there,” Jay said the moment you entered his luxurious sleek black Mercedes. You knew he was loaded, everyone did actually, but it still managed to shock you somehow.

“I was giving myself a pep talk to not try and run away from this party,” you flashed him a sarcastic smile.

“Haha,” Jay replied flatly, unamused. “It’ll be an easy party, don’t worry, you won’t get mauled. I’ll just introduce you around and then you go have some drinks, soon we’ll be back before you know it,”

“You’re not drinking right?”

“You think I’d like to be charged with a DUI?”

“Have you ever thought about that when you drive multiple girls home after parties?”

“It’s not nice to slut shame,”

“Whatever you say.”

The car ride to the house was quick and loud. It was calming when you and Jay were vibing to some music along the way up until the two of you started fighting over who was the best rapper in the industry, that eventually led to debating which genre is the greatest. The debate continued on even after entering the threshold, but nervousness washed over you once you were met with unfamiliar faces.

“Pop is not even considered in this deb—”

“Jay, hold my hand,”

“What—”

“Hold my hand,” you repeated firmly, and he listened despite being in a daze, intertwining his hand in yours, instinctively pulling you closer. “We have to make this convincing, remember?”

“Right,” he squeezed your hand lightly, unknowingly giving you a hint of reassurance. “Stick by me, some of the people here are not the best,”

“Thanks, I can’t wait to get out of here,”

Jay only rolled his eyes at your words, a slight grin tugged at his lips. He held onto your hand tightly, pulling you further into the crowded house, occasionally turning his head back to check on you. “There, my hockey boys,” he nodded towards a small group by a small makeshift bar, instantly recognizing them from that day at the rink.

“What if I told you now that I have social anxiety,” you whispered into his ears, trying to give him your best pleading eyes.

“It’ll be a little too late now,” he returned a knowing stare, clearly unfazed by your tricks. Smart bastard. “Come on, you’ve already met them anyway,”

“Y/N!” Heeseung was the one who spotted you first, waving his hand enthusiastically, Sunghoon following suit. You returned a small wave, but you tensed, feeling Jay removing his hand from yours, sneaking onto your waist instead. You were not strong enough for this, you were a woman with desires at the end of the day.

“Hey,” Jay greeted them, resting his hand on your hip, your hand unconsciously travelling to his back, his smirk at your touch going unnoticed.

“So, Y/N, is he still in ‘complicated’ status?” Sunghoon brought up, eliciting a small laugh from Heeseung, meanwhile Jay was equally confused and unimpressed at his teammates’ unseriousness.

“Don’t worry, he has upgraded,” you prodded him, passing a pleased smile to the other two.

“Will we be seeing you at our games?”

“Maybe,” you said vaguely, feeling Jay’s hand leaving your hips and sneaking lower towards the hem of your skirt and slowly pulling at it. You turned your head, meeting his eyes and at that moment, you felt something you denied over the last week. You were weak, you were definitely not God’s strongest soldier. It was bare minimum, but you still appreciated the little things.

“Let’s go walk around,” Jay suggested, leaning close to you, his face only inches away from yours, his hand squeezing your hip gently. Who knew he was this good at acting?

“Don’t be too protective over her, Jay boy!” Sunghoon called out as he dragged you away from his friends, earning a soft laugh from you and grudging mumbles from him.

“They tend to be quite a handful sometimes, sorry about that,” Jay said apologetically, leading you to a room full of people playing beer pong and some other drinking games.

“Don’t worry about it, they seem fine,” you brushed him off, pressing yourself closer to his side in caution as your eyes scanned the whole room. “They don’t look like they believe the fact that you’re actually ‘dating’ someone though,”

“They once said they would be married by the time I found someone,” he scoffed, pulling you into an unoccupied coach. “Which isn’t true,” he continued, placing a pillow on your exposed thighs. “I just haven’t found the one, or just not yet. Maybe I already did and I just didn’t know, ”

“Take it easy, loverboy,” you softly punched his shoulder, making him grin a little. He was cute, you couldn’t lie about that, but your heart continued to. “You’re still young, you should be worrying about it only if you’re 35 and single,”

“You’re right,” he nodded solemnly, his attention averted away. "It's Juyeon,"

At that moment, Juyeon walked into the room, greeting some of his friends and welcoming hugs from them, the atmosphere in the room became noisier. Your gaze followed his figure, blinking quicker than usual as you suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of alarm.

"Don't drool," Jay clicked his tongue, his eyes turning fierce. What's up with this guy now?

"I'm not," you gritted out, your heart dropping slightly at the sight of Juyeon interacting with other girls. You were lying when you said you didn't care, maybe you did.

"I don't get why you like him anyway, he's a jock, a football jock," he said the last part in distaste, making it seem as though footballers were the worst on earth.

"It's called being interested, dumbass. Having someone to admire makes college life fun," you fought back, caving into Jay's touch when he draped his arm over your waist. You shouldn't be liking this skinship. You mustn't.

"He's coming over, he spotted us," Jay mumbled, flashing his smile at Juyeon's approaching figure. "Act natural,"

"Thanks for the advice," you gritted out dryly, shifting around uncomfortably.

"Yo Jay," Juyeon called out to Jay, dabbing your supposed boyfriend up, a friendly smile on his face that blinded your vision and made your heart eyes appear. Fuck.

"Sup," Jay greeted back, breathing out a quiet laugh. “Oh, this is—”

“Y/N,” Juyeon finished Jay’s sentence at once, his gaze shifted onto you now, causing you to shy under his stare. “Partner from Chemistry?”

“That’s me,” you beamed at him, clapping your hands together, absentmindedly leaning further into Jay’s hold.

“I don’t normally see you at these type of parties,”

“Not a big party person,” you scratched the back of your neck, the feeling of awkwardness creeping up on you. You were never the best at meeting new people, though Juyeon wasn’t exactly a total stranger, but he wasn’t someone you were close to either.

“Right,” he paused for a moment, peering back and forth between you and Jay, a slight raise of his eyebrow. “So what brings the two of you here? You’re Jay’s date for the night?”

“She’s Jay’s girlfriend, actually,” the man himself spoke beside you, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to his side, a tight smile on his face. "My girlfriend,"

You could feel heat crawling up the back of your neck, choosing to avert your attention away and see what Juyeon’s reaction was. Turns out he was grinning, he was fucking grinning?

“Jay with a girlfriend? For real?”

Jay let out a scoff, seemingly offended by everyone’s surprise. Hell, if you didn’t know him and found out he had a girlfriend, you’ll be surprised too. “Yes, dickhead, surprise,” he grumbled, earning a chuckle from the footballer, who clearly loved irking Jay.

“Chill, good for you, man. About time,” he lightly slapped Jay’s shoulder and you sat quietly, not knowing what to say either. You really wanted to leave. “I’ll be at tomorrow’s match, see you,”

“Yeah, yeah, bye,” Jay bid a half-assed goodbye to Juyeon while you just waved at him instead, a tight lipped smile on your face. Once he was out of the picture, your head whipped to stare at the hockey player next to you, an impatient plea to leave this party written all over your features.

“Fine,” he sighed, letting you slip your hand in his. “How was all that?” he asked coolly, but you noticed a hint of displeasure in his tone, yet you waved it off again.

“I don’t know, he’s … okay, I guess,” you shrugged, truly confused about your current feelings. The thought of Jay stormed your mind. Juyeon? That’s the last J name of your concerns right now. But will you ever admit out loud that you were thinking about Jay, the man who constantly gives you headaches? Fuck no.

“Just ‘okay’?”

You hummed in response, sensing that he was a little bit more at ease after hearing your answer. He was easy to read, too easy.

“Does that make me better than him?”

“Woah, don’t get too ahead of yourself, Park,”

“Don’t hurt my ego like that,”

“Am not,”

“Come on, say I’m better, hotter and funnier than him,” he egged on, inching closer to you, a teasing grin stretched on that stupid face of his.

“Zipping my mouth shut,” you gestured at your lips, deadpanning at him.

“You’re too afraid to admit it,”

“Whatever you say, big head,” you bumped his shoulder and he stumbled a little, narrowing his eyes at you, a challenging smirk plastered on his face. Oh no.

In the next minute, Jay swept you off your feet and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a sharp yelp, unable to process everything at once, hearing Jay’s playful laugh fill the streets in the quietness of the night.

“You’re so dead,” you seethed, hitting his back with your utmost might, but he only cackled in response.

“Whatever you say, pea brain,” Jay mocked, earning him another hard punch on his back and this time, it actually made him wince. Choosing the safest route for himself, he kept his mouth shut.

Thus, you had no choice but to give into hanging over a hockey boy’s shoulder as the two of you ventured into the night in search of his car, not realising the mess you’ll be facing soon.

IT’S OFFICIAL. YOU'VE REACHED THE STAGE OF REGRET.

It was the next day, hockey game day, you turned up at the arena and copped a good seat. You might be wondering, ‘what’s so bad about a hockey game to the point you start regretting everything’, well if you could trade places with anybody in the world right now, you would, and that said a lot.

Jay had greeted you for barely five minutes before the game, rushing away immediately once he saw the time, giving you an apologetic hug that almost had you convinced this was real. What he hadn’t prepared you earlier, was the fact that there was a fucking kiss cam. One look at the jumbotron and you knew you were doomed.

‘KISS CAM’ was written clearly on the screen, the music in the arena was drowned out completely and you felt your heart drop. It might’ve seemed overdramatic for you to react like this, but in reality, kissing a stranger was terrifying. Your first kiss was already a nightmare, let alone kissing someone you don’t know, what would make it better?

“Nothing will happen,” you assured yourself over and over again, unaware that somebody had just slipped in the seat beside you.

“Hey,”

You flinched, brought out of your daze and you met Juyeon’s eyes. Good-fucking-bye to the world right now. His smile distracted you, having you muted and malfunctioning. Cool. This was cool. You’re cool.

“Hi,” you gave him a small smile that turned out more awkward than you thought.

“Supporting Jay today?” he nodded at the rink where the team was currently practising, your eyes wandering over to Jay’s figure.

“Him and the team. School spirit, you know?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I heard about the kiss cam—” he pointed towards the screen and you wanted to close your eyes instead, but basic courtesy mattered. “—apparently for raising funds,”

Raising funds through a kiss cam? What was this? ‘The Kissing Booth: hockey edition’?

“That’s … interesting,” you uttered, nervousness laced in your voice.

You were saved from the awkward tension just as the game started, secretly wishing you had Minji with you instead of a mouth watering football player next to you. The game was intense, effectively grabbing your attention away from your surroundings, but the flash of the kiss cam starting its quest on finding couples was distracting.

As the game progressed, you grew confident that your mind was just playing games in making you anxious and nothing would happen. Your mind eased as you joined in the cheering when the home team finally scored a goal, watching the team celebrate had you grinning, staring down at a specific number 99.

The high soon died down and you chose to glance up at the jumbotron, the kiss cam focused on a cute couple who were weirdly making out instead of just simply kissing. PDA, yucks. It then swiftly moved on to another pair, thankfully. They were probably strangers, but being good sports, they shared a quick peck, earning some ‘awh’s from the crowd. Another change, your eyebrows furrowed, a frown tugged at your lips, was that—

It was. Your nightmare has come. For a moment you wondered if you were hallucinating, but a couple of beats later, you came to the realisation you were not. The kiss cam was focused on you and … Juyeon. When you said you were interested in him, you didn’t mean this, nope not at all.

Embarrassingly and reluctantly, you avoided the footballer’s gaze and shook your head, feeling tripped out as you stared at your own self on the screen, catching some disappointed groans from a few people. “I have a boyfriend,” you mouthed, trying your best to seem apologetic, but Juyeon didn’t look like he wanted to back down.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” he murmured, attempting to seem as lowkey as possible.

“I have a boyfriend, sorry,” you pressed your lips into a flat line, not enjoying this for a bit. The kiss cam swerved away to pinpoint another pair, but Juyeon was persistent.

“Come on, don’t pretend you don’t want to kiss me,”

You glared at him, your features turning sour, in disbelief at what you’ve just heard. Was he serious? “Excuse me?”

“Forget about Jay, I know how you were looking at me that night,” he whistled lowly under his breath and you scoffed, but you were caught off guard almost immediately when you saw the kiss cam lighting up in the corner of your eyes, and it zoomed into your face again. FML.

“He’ll never know,” he arched an eyebrow, welcoming the idea hugely. Scumbag.

“I don’t stoop that low you fuck—”

Before you could jump Juyeon and curse him out, a loud crash startled you and everyone around. You jumped in your seat, your head turned towards the direction of the noise. Jay was in front of you, his fist against the glass, helmet in hand. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead.

Wet strands of hair stuck onto his forehead, his eyes narrowed into a death stare as it trained on Juyeon. “Fuck off,” he yelled through the glass barrier, his fist clenched. “Back off,”

The blood in Juyeon’s face was completely drained, obvious embarrassment and shame washed over him, but knowing him and his ego, he played it off, pretending as if that didn’t happen. “Whatever,” he got up from his seat and stormed off. Deserved.

You hid the small smile forming on your face, your sights redirecting towards Jay, your heart beating wildly against your chest the moment you met his eyes, softening when he mouth ‘you okay’. You nodded back at him and you could tell he instantly loosened up, returning a half smile before turning away and joining the team.

Moral of the story: don’t fall for playboys, which sounded pretty ironic considering the situation you were currently in.

The game had thankfully ended in a win for the home team, and honestly, that whole experience seemed to be years instead of just a few hours. Never again. You were glad to see Jay and everyone else cheerfully exiting the rink, taking that as the cue for you to chase after him.

Upon arriving outside the locker room, you found yourself standing awkwardly as you waited for him to appear, greeting his friends half-heartedly when they were on the way out. Your patience was thinning and only until then, he only decided to appear, a little shocked that you were there.

“Congrats on the win,” you joined his side and walked together, letting his shoulder brush against yours softly.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, a lollipop in his mouth. You didn’t enjoy this questionable tension between the two of you, noticing his rigidness.

“Hey!” You cut to the chase, snatching the lollipop from his lips, finally getting his attention as he turned to stare at you with wide eyes. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged it off, and you didn't understand why, you could tell he was blatantly lying.

“You're acting really weird,” you narrowed your eyes at him in accusation.

“Am I?”

“Ask yourself that,” you huffed, instinctively putting the lollipop into your mouth, not bothering to care anymore. “Anyway, I think mission Juyeon is officially cancelled, he gives me the ick, didn't know he was such a big douchebag,”

“Told you so,” he shrugged, his gaze wavering from your lips to your eyes. Woah. “Keep the lollipop, I have loads,” he gulped, avoiding your eyes.

“Drop me off?” You suggested, putting on the most convincing, sweetest smile, which somehow worked since it got Jay to grudgingly mumble a ‘yes’.

“I would give you a kiss right now if I could.” You skipped on, leaving Jay to tail behind you, your words ringing in his ears.

Maybe somewhere inside, he did wish you would.

“SEE? I TOLD YOU HE WAS A JERK,”

Minji continuously flailed her hands dramatically as you and she made your way through the campus. It was the week of the hockey event that Jay had mentioned, meaning another restless week of frat party, dress shopping, hockey match and then a fancy event.

“Yes, yes, I know, you've made your point,” you grumbled annoyingly, having not one but two people saying the same to you.

“It's quite cute that Jay stood up for you though,” she nudged your side, her eyes glinting. You knew what she was indicating.

“Fake dating, fake. Not real,” you threw your hands up in defeat, but internally, you were beginning to second guess if you even wanted to call it fake, maybe deep down, you didn't want it to be.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Minji mumbled, but you were able to catch onto it, huffing in denial next to her. “Anyway, when are you going shopping? The event’s this weekend already,”

“Fuck, I forgot,” you brushed your hand through your hair, having another headache to add on to. “Do you have any nice fancy dresses? I'm sure Jay is ready but I'm not,”

Minji flashed a knowing smirk, she definitely had something up her sleeve. “You know I do. I'll bring them to your dorm and we're going to have a whole makeover,”

“You're not going to burn my hair this time right?”

“We'll see.”

A few days had passed and it was your second hockey pregame party, repeatedly cursing that your Thursday night was ruined once more, but seeing Jay’s pleading eyes at your doorstep, you just had to give in again. How did he have that effect on you?

“She’s going to be at the party,” Jay noted casually on the way to the house.

“Oh,” you pursed your lips, not knowing what to say next. “What’s her name? You’ve never mentioned,”

“Sujin,”

“Her?” you gasped, eyes widened in plain shock. Out of all the girls he could’ve had his heart broken by, it had to be the infamous Instagram blogger who was known to play around. Look, you've always been a supporter of every woman's rights and wrongs, but she was way beyond any defending.

“Yeah …” Jay sighed, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “We were high school lovers, but things went sour in college,”

“Well, forget about her, you want to prove her wrong right? Then prove her wrong,”

“You're oddly over confident today,”

“What's wrong with confidence, Park?”

He glanced over at you briefly, a wide grin on his face as he shook his head. “Nothing. I just like to see confidence on you,”

You rolled your eyes, but something inside you twisted, finding yourself ignoring whatever feelings that sparked internally. “Are you ready for Saturday?”

“Suit’s ready, but me? So so, I guess,”

“You sound pessimistic, don’t tell me you’re starting to regret all these,”

“Hey, now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” Jay grumbled, putting the car into park right outside of the familiar frat house. “I won’t ever regret you or this whole thing, now come on,”

You weren’t left a single second to even process the fact that he said he won't regret you. Yes, you, not just this stupid scheme, but you. Upon entering the threshold, you were met with a cup of beer thrusted into your face from a passing Heeseung, your other hand occupied by Jay’s, trying your best to make it past the crowd without stumbling over. Everything was a whirlwind.

“Fuck, she’s here,” his hold on you tightened and you followed his line of sight, your gaze landing on the over dressed Instagram model, her skirt a little too small and her heels a little too high.

“Just act normal, Jay. You said you’re over her, then you should act like that,” you yanked him close to you, walking over to the mini bar, pouring yourself a drink. “That’s her boyfriend?” you nodded at the taller man towering beside Sujin, his face contrary to the one you had in mind.

“Yeah, that’s Intak,” he said quietly, aware of the lingering ears around the two of you. “Seeing him every time we have a game against his team is revolting, I can’t believe I have to see him here too,”

“Then look away,” you pushed his face softly, earning a huff of annoyance from him. “Come on, it’ll be over in an hour,” you rubbed the side of his arm in comfort, his lips twisting into an endearing smile.

“You’re right,” Jay sighed, blinking harshly, his gaze flickering between you and your surroundings. “I’ll go find Heeseung and Sunghoon for a moment, is that okay? Will you be alright alone? You can come along too. If you want—”

“It’s fine, Jay, really,” you laughed, putting your hands up to stop him from blabbering on. “Go find them, call me when it’s time to leave,”

“I’ll come find you once I’m done,” he held onto your shoulder, pressing a hasty kiss on the top of your head before turning away to another room in search of his hockey teammates.

Safe to say you were able to find yourself a company, who turned out to be a girl you knew from your literature class. Why was she there? She didn’t know either and you thought the best was to not question further, grateful that you were not alone in this house of strangers. The clock was spinning fast, soon it was already past midnight and Jay was nowhere to be seen. You were praying that you weren’t in a remake of ‘Scream’.

The feeling of unease crept up on you and you couldn’t handle it any longer, standing up from the couch and storming into different rooms of the house, all occupied and filled with people, none of those were Jay. The last option you had was the upstairs, which lied the unimaginable behind those rooms that you were not about to explore, thank you very much!

Wandering the upstairs of a rather large frat house all alone was quite a challenge, especially when you were trying to hunt a 5’10 hockey jock, adding onto the fact that you literally and physically bumped (crashed, actually) into said hockey jock’s enemy in the corridors, shit was turning upside down.

“Fuck—sorry,” you coughed out, regretting your last sober choice of bringing your beer cup along.

“Shit—it’s fine, no worries,” Jay's enemy/ex’s boyfriend, Intak, reassured, dabbing himself off with some napkins that were miraculously lying on a table nearby.

“I feel bad, if you need it cleaned I can help,” you frowned, leaning over to see the damage you’ve caused: a yellowish stain on his once perfect white tee.

“No, it’s completely fine, shit happens,” he laughed, waving his hand, an awkward silence filling the air momentarily. “So, why are you even up here?”

“Oh—I’m finding … someone,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

His eyes lit up. “Me too, actually. I can’t leave the party without them and gosh, I’m getting a headache already,”

“Twins, I think the beer is getting to me soon,” you clapped your hands, glancing around for any signs of Jay.

“Before that happens, may I know your name first?”

You raised your eyebrows. “It’s Y/N,”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Intak,” you accepted his handshake, trying your best to be friendly and not seem awkward. "I play in a hockey team, the one that's playing against yours for tomorrow,"

"Right," you nodded as though you hadn't already known that prior to this. "I would wish you good luck on normal occasions, but since it's against the home team … I need to keep my school spirit,"

Intak let out a small laugh. "Totally understandable," he met your eyes, a hint of sheer curiosity in them. "Do you have a date for tonight—"

"Intak?"

"Y/N?"

You, together with the hockey player, turned around to find each other's partners standing down the corridor next to one another, a look of confusion written on their faces. But you, you had anger and an obvious "what the fuck" painted onto your expressions, and it was clear that Jay had noticed it too when he came close.

"Uh—we're leaving now, bye," Jay murmured, grabbing a hold of your wrist and dragging you away, giving you only a brief second to say goodbye to Intak.

You didn't and couldn't understand what was happening, just hating the way Jay was acting. You kept your mouth shut until you were completely out of the house and walking towards the car when you yanked your hand out of Jay's hold, causing him to look back at you in a daze.

"God, you're such a dickhead!" You seethed, breathing heavily.

"What?"

"'What' was all you could say? Jay, you left me in that party alone for God knows how long and then you disappear on me just for me to find you running back to your ex? Make it make sense,"

"I didn't run back to her, Y/N, for fuck's sake," Jay ran a hand through his hair, his lips pressed into a thin line. "She pulled me away and started claiming weird shit that never happened, I wanted to leave but she kept persisting until I managed to break down the fucking doorknob,"

Silence fell between the two of you, the dark of the night consuming your thoughts and the moon was staring down at you, your mind and soul in a daze. You couldn't understand why you were feeling this way, after all, it was fake, it wasn't real.

"I believe you," you sighed, gulping down the anxiety building up within you. "Forget it, it's fine, sorry for being so worked up, it's not like we're really dating, right?"

You looked at him, noticing his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glinting with something unreadable, his mouth opened then shut, wanting to say something but nothing came out, heaving a small sigh. "You're right, it's not real anyway."

As much as you wished to forget it, you couldn't. The way he wasn't even fighting and being in denial, his words stemming sadness into your heart and reminding you again and again that it was never real to begin with.

Fake dating was meant to be fake, wasn't it?

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE BROUGHT ME HERE FOR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT,”

Friday night hockey was something you loved, but after what happened yesterday, you dreaded coming.

You still remembered the tension filled air on the way back to your dorms, the silence in the car and the quiet exchange of "goodnight" haunted you. Crashing into Minji's bed having a breakdown definitely made you two come to a conclusion that you were indeed harbouring something for Jay. Were you going to straightforwardly admit it? Never.

Now, you had zero balls to be at the game alone, choosing to drag Minji along and you knew even if she was vocally complaining, she was actually enjoying the hot hockey players secretly.

"Did you talk to Jay after yesterday night?"

"No,"

"Will you?"

"Maybe,"

"I think that's a 'yes',"

You stared pointedly at her and she shrugged, resuming her watch on the hockey players practising. You watched along as well, your eyes instinctively following Jay's figure, but then you noticed Intak on the far end as well. Somehow, you knew that this match wasn't about to end well.

"Is this seat empty?" A voice startled you from your internal monologue, snapping your head just in time to see little miss ex standing over you.

"Oh—yes," you said uneasily, grabbing your phone immediately to text Minji.

you: it's her

jiji: who

you: the girl next to me!!! that's jay's EX.

jiji: YOU'RE KIDDING

you: i wished

You exchanged a wary look with Minji, playing it off as natural as you could as you sensed Sujin sitting next to you, elbowing Minji in panic and she does the same back to you, making it look wild and weird from a third perspective. You stopped the frenzy nudging war with Minji, swallowing thickly and hoping nothing happened, but actually, something did, hooray!

“You’re Jay’s girlfriend?” you heard her asking and you turned your head slowly, meeting her blinking eyes and curious gaze.

“Yes,” you tried your best for it to sound convincing, and it seemed to have worked.

“Cool.” she whistled under her breath, returning her gaze back to the arena and you resisted rolling your eyes, biting back a snarl.

The game started in a haze, both teams trying to break one another’s defence and score a goal, yet it all failed in the end, turning it into a tie for two periods straight. You and Minji sighed in disappointment, watching the home team giving their best to not collapse there and then. Sujin, on the other hand, looked nervous throughout the game, occasionally standing up and clapping.

The third period approached in a blink of an eye, two teams eager to score and win, the tension was high and you could tell they were sweating heavy loads. It began in a peaceful and lowkey attack, but shoving and punches were seen here and there, earning entertained jeers from the crowd. You sighed, both in exasperation and stress, hoping nothing would land Jay a bad game. But everything proved you the opposite once more.

Your eyes widening in the next moment, noticing two players shoving each other and throwing gloves onto the ice, punches almost thrown but was interjected by the referee and teammates. Lord, it just had to be Jay and Intak, it was basically written in the stars, wasn’t it?

Once the game had ended, you couldn’t care less about the scoreline, listening to Minji’s brief rants on how not to fumble your emotions about Jay and stopping her halfway through, pointing to the clock as your time ticked. You were attempting to squeeze your way out when you heard a cough behind you and to your disappointment, it had to be Sujin.

“You’re aware of who I am, right?” you heard the sneer in her voice, holding in the urge to rip her hair out and instead, remained facing away from her.

“Don’t worry, I do. You’re Jay’s dumpster ex girlfriend,”

“What—”

Timing was right and you took the chance to slip away, thanking the world that you were finally miles away from Jay’s dusty ex. All of that didn’t matter though, the important aspect was finding Jay now, awkwardly speed walking to locate Jay’s whereabouts.

Upon arriving at the front of the familiar locker rooms, you patiently waited, feeling a sense of deja vu. That wasn’t all. Your anxiety was at its highest point. What were you about to say to Jay? Can you even face him? What if you pussied out and ran away—

“Y/N?” speaking of the devil …

You whipped your head around, Jay’s curious eyes meeting your panicked ones, your whole body frozen to the spot as he approached you, taking a cautious step at a time.

“Are you alright? Were you hurt?” you couldn’t help it, after seeing the minor fight on ice, your first natural instinct was to ask him this. Jay lowered his head, hiding a smile that was threatening to appear. A small sense of relief washed over you.

“I’m fine … thanks. Just a small conflict,” he muttered, then proceeded by a brief moment of silence, where you swore it felt like forever considering how it was just quiet stares and exchanges of friendly smiles, and you couldn’t really handle it much longer, being the one to break first.

“Jay, I—uhm—yesterday, the party thing, I’m sorry about it, I don’t want that to make things awkward between us,” you gesture wildly at the space between you and him, his eyes following your movements. “And it’s wrong for me to say those stuff,”

“It’s partially my fault too. I’m the one to blame to ditch you,”

“I’m the one who accused you of shit and I feel really bad for assuming something I don’t know. I just got worked up, I’m sorry,”

He took hold of your hands, grasping onto them tightly as though he was fearing you’d run away. “Y/N, do you trust me?”

Do you trust him?

In a heartbeat, the answer was an obvious ‘yes’. You had to admit, you did initially find him annoying and a total fuckboy that you knew would break your heart, but as time passed, you couldn’t care anymore. Even if it meant your heart was on the line, at least you knew Jay was genuine about you; at the very least, there was someone who would stand up for you, listen to your rants about music, and put you first.

“Yes,”

Jay pulled your hand, practically yanking you towards him, landing on his chest with a thud and a heart thumping crazily, butterflies swarmed your stomach and you could feel heaven getting close, aka you dying in Jay’s arms. He pressed his head on the top of yours, feeling his heart beating against your chest, his cologne no stranger to you now.

“When I said you’re my girl, I meant it, it doesn’t matter if it’s fake or not, I’ll always care for you, and I will never ever hurt you, so please—” an underlying mix of desperation, hurt and care were laced in his voice, and you were weak, weak for him. “—trust me, and even if it means I need to earn it or whatever, I will,”

“Jay…” you faltered, resting your chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. “I’m sorry for not trusting you, I should’ve heard you out, of course I do trust you,”

Jay was silent for a second, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ and pressing a swift kiss on your forehead, which didn’t get completely unnoticed by you, but you decided to not say anything about it, letting yourself melt into his arms. Internally, you were conflicted, torn between whether your feelings about him were mutual, you were scared, petrified that you’ve already broken the first and most important rule of fake dating:

Do not catch feelings.

jayjay: DUMPSTER EX? you’re soo foul for that

you: truth hurts unfortunately :/ you never told me what happened that day

jayjay: it was stupid, he just started attacking me, for OBVIOUS reasons, so i couldn’t help defending back :(

you: i’m glad you didn’t get your ass beat

jayjay: gasp you have zero confidence in me!

Tossing your phone to the side was a hard task considering how Jay was basically spamming your message inbox, ranging from panicking about the event that was happening at night to gossiping about exes, he was certainly experiencing many emotions. You were similarly distraught, having a hard time choosing between a black dress or a red one, placing them in front of you for evaluations that just ended up failing.

“By the time we’re done I think the party would’ve ended,” Minji groaned from her side of the room, lounging on her bed as she watched you glancing between the two dresses.

“Not helping,”

“I literally chose the black one and you told me, in your words, ‘what if I looked better in red’ girl, that’s your problem now,”

“I'm indecisive and you know that,” you mumbled sourly, picking the black dress in the end. You were grateful for the fashion Gods, the dress was an absolute banger and you didn’t understand how you even picked it out, you just knew.

“See? I told you,” Minji whistled, manhandling you to do a forceful 180 turn for her, and from the way her face morphed into a smile, you could tell she was pleased. "Jay would drop dead when he sees you," she squealed.

"God I hope not," you joked, squeezing onto your clutch tightly.

jayjay: im outside :)

"He's here," you hissed, becoming frantic all of a sudden, double checking everything at the last minute before slipping your heels on, making sure to give Minji a small kiss on the cheek too and off you went dashing towards Jay's car, noticing his figure faced away, leaning against his car as you got nearer.

"Hi," you panted, masking the fatigue and exhaustion from the amount of panic and stress you went through in those 5 minutes.

You could see Jay glancing up from his phone, then shoving it into his back pocket and turning his head around, his burning eyes locked with yours. A smirk slowly stretched onto his lips, a mischievous glint in his gaze as he sweeped your figure. You were no better, eyes shamelessly boring into him, scanning his attire and you swore your legs were shaking.

Him in a plain black suit shouldn’t be affecting you, but it was. The prada tie hung around neck was equally distracting, how was he making something so simple seem breathtaking? You hated him for it, yes, you absolutely do. His hair was styled back and a single loose strand hung over his forehead, practically challenging the Zayn Malik look.

“Hey,” his hand instinctively reached for your waist, bringing you closer to him. “You look amazing—you’re amazing,” he breathed out, completely transfixed.

“You look great too,” that’s a lie, he looked more than just great.

“Getting complimented by you for once? Honoured,”

“You should be,” you snickered, letting Jay guide you to the passenger side and adoring the way he opened the car door for you. Although it was a small gesture, you appreciate it greatly considering how literally no man had done this for you before. Known fuckboy Park Jong Seong was proving you wrong day by day.

The drive there began quietly and you knew it was going to take a while since it’s quite a distance away, fearing it would be awkward silence once more, but the moment Jay had switched the radio on, the music discourse started, then it progressed into movies.

“I can’t believe you hate rom coms!” you gasped, staring at him in horror as he fumbled to defend himself.

“Look, I didn’t say hate, but it’s just pointless,”

“You’re telling me you’ve never watched the classic rom coms before?” you dramatically leaned away from him, earning a huff.

“No,” he grumbled.

“That’s criminal,” you exclaimed, a little evil idea forming in that brain of yours. “I’m making you watch them,”

“You’re so not,”

“Oh, I am,” you beamed, clapping your hands together. “There are ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 days’, ‘Notting Hill’, ‘Pretty Woman’, the list goes on and on and Julia Roberts is literally a rom com legend—oh my God, please tell me you’ve watched Mamma Mia before,”

“Of course I did! I’m not that bad,”

“I’m glad,” you let out a sigh of relief, sinking into your seat and making a mental note to write down a list of rom coms to watch with Jay. A rom com marathon date with Jay, cute. The rest of the ride, you listened to Jay’s hilarious rants about the pizzas he tried and the interesting stories from his trips abroad.

The venue was absolutely spacious and screamed sponsored. It was at some five star hotel, the parking was already a clear indication that it wasn’t a hotel to be taken lightly in consideration. Even Jay was surprised, his head twisting and turning to look at the small details of everything, his hand in yours and it genuinely felt like you were dragging a curious child around.

“Didn’t know the hockey associations had this in them,” he cooed, entering the ballroom of the hotel, a big hockey banner hung at the stage, round tables littered here and there, a huge space in the middle for the dancefloor and as for the cherry on top, a wide array of food and drinks displayed freely. Maybe you didn’t fully regret coming.

Despite all that, you only managed to recognise one or two people from the hockey team, but the rest of them were plain strangers, players from different schools that only Jay could probably recognise. You simply felt uneasy.

“Remind me what this is for again?”

“Literally nothing, it’s the same as the frat party but classier I suppose,”

“Real charming,”

“Come on,” Jay said quietly, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you towards your designated table, actually glad for once when you saw the hockey team, including Heeseung and Sunghoon. “It’s going to be over soon and hey, you can always talk to the guy’s dates,”

“Will I be seeing their dates the next time?” you arched a quizzical eyebrow at him, knowing their reputation, you wondered if this was a one night exclusive kinda thing, but you weren’t there to judge.

“Hard to say,” Jay frowned.

“Wait—” you paused, placing an arm on Jay’s shoulder. “What about us? This whole deal was for tonight, but what happens after?”

“I don’t think it’s the right time to discuss this right now, Y/N,” Jay glanced back and forth between you and his friends at the table, making sure his voice was extra hushed. “Let’s just survive tonight first, and we’ll talk about the rest after. Capiche?”

You nodded, but deep down, you could tell that talk was already dreaded by the both of you. You’d hate to admit it, but after being with Jay for a while, you were not willing to let go. What if he didn’t feel the same and you’ll just end up being those clingy girls he dated before? It was such a wrong time to think about all these when you’re in the middle of some stupid event, but your mind has its way to put you off, always.

“You okay?” Jay was close, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of emotions. It definitely helped in snapping you out of your daze, and it took your utmost willpower to not shy away or kiss him at that exact moment, he was so pretty, painfully pretty when he was up close for you to be able to capture his every feature.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, squeezing his shoulder lightly before looping your arm around his. “I’m a little hungry,”

“Me too,” Jay groaned, his head turning over to where the buffet was, evidently displaying heart eyes. “I’ll go get us some, you should join them first, and save me a seat too, please,”

“‘Please’? That’s a first from you,”

“Do you want your food or not?”

“You’re so romantic whenever you threaten me,” you shooed Jay away, forcing him to fetch some food while you trudged your way towards the table, Heeseung and Sunghoon nodded at you when you caught their eyes.

"Y/N," the two hockey players regarded you, their dates giving you friendly smiles and you took a seat next to Heeseung's date.

"Heeseung, Sunghoon," you raised your eyebrows. "And the ladies," you have to admit it, at least they had great tastes.

Heeseung and Sunghoon introduced you to their dates, one was Chaewon and the other was Kazuha, both of them being the nicest people you've ever met and you swore you were about to ditch Jay for them instead.

"Hey," Jay finally appeared, his hands were occupied by two plates and thankfully, he was smart enough to fill them up to the brim. He slipped into the empty seat next to you, acknowledging his friends and their dates.

“This is a first,” Heeseung noted thoughtfully, catching both you and Jay off guard.

“Hm?” Jay hummed, passing you the utensils.

“Don’t ‘hm’ me. This is literally my first time seeing you treat a girl like this,”

Jay stared back at his friends as if they were insane, you just stayed amused. “You’re making me sound like I’ve treated other girls like a dickhead,”

“You know what I mean,”

You didn’t. But it seemed Jay did, silently sighing underneath his breath and shrugging Heeseung’s words off, turning to you instead. “I got you some strawberries, I remembered you mentioned loving them once,”

There was a tug at your heartstrings, it was your absolute weakness: people remembering your favourite things; Jay most definitely had a great way to get into your heart and mind. He was slowly but surely ticking off the boxes on the list you’ve created in your head, titled ‘things Jay is forbidden to do so that I WON’T end up liking him’ and he was proving you wrong by checking them off one at a time, damn it.

The food wasn’t the best but the company surely did help. The whole of the hockey team was cracking jokes around the table, you were laughing until your stomach was hurting, the atmosphere high and wild, you were too busy trying not to choke at the jokes to notice that you were practically leaning onto Jay’s side, shoulders touching and you could feel the warmth emanating from his body.

What’s a fancy event without a speech at the end of the night? Other than that boring part, you were relieved to hear there was at least a dance to end the night off on a high with, since the dance floor was there for a reason. The team around the table started dispersing in pairs, until it was only you and Jay left.

“Were you waiting for me to ask?” Jay teased, his eyes lingering on you.

“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go usually?” you mused, raising an accusing eyebrow at him and he stifled a laugh.

“I’m playing with you. I was waiting for the other’s to leave first so that I could be alone with you—” he bumped your shoulder gently with his, “—and ask you personally,” he stood up from his seat, the soft glow from the lights shone across his face, alighting his delicate features, he looked like a fantasy, too good to be true, and maybe he was. “Would you like to dance?”

“I would love to,” you accepted his hand, allowing him to lead you to the dancefloor and you suddenly felt nervous, hoping you wouldn’t end up tripping or stumbling, or worse, stepping on Jay’s toes. Somehow, he would always sense your distress and this time, it was the same.

“Don’t be nervous, I won’t start hoisting you up like those Disney shows,” he said with his recognizable playful smile that you’ve grown used to.

You were facing him now, his hand not leaving yours and only tightening its grip, pulling you in closer and closer until you were only mere inches away from him, noses almost touching. The other hand of his rested on your waist, yours on his shoulder, eyes not leaving one another. The lights were dimmed down, slow music was playing in the background and you swore you saw something sparked in his gaze as you two started moving to the rhythm.

“I might’ve said it earlier already but genuinely, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” Jay whispered, his voice low and his gaze piercing.

“Have my love potions finally worked?” you smiled, hoping and praying that Jay wouldn’t notice the slight tinge of pink rising to your cheeks.

“I think they did,” Jay nodded slowly, biting his lip for a moment before leaning even more closer, space was basically nonexistent between you two now. “I might want to keep you forever now, keep you by my side and never let you go,”

Could this be his answer? An answer to your countless doubts and thoughts that piled in your mind. This was stupid, he was stupid. Stupidly handsome and charming it had you going insane and you thought hockey jocks wouldn’t have this effect on you, guess you were wrong all along.

“Really?” you breathed out, barely audible, but expectant.

“I don’t think I was ever joking,”

“I—”

“Jay!” Sunghoon’s voice boomed through the crowd and you could see the hope drain from Jay’s face, his eyebrows furrowed and features twisted into annoyance. “Dude, I heard there’s some free booze that costs thousands! Can we please go check it out—am I interrupting something here?”

“You think?” Jay seethed out, taking off his suit’s blazer and placing them over your shoulders. It was something small, maybe even insignificant to others, but to you, it meant a lot, and you were hoping no one noticed your slight shyness after.

“It’s fine,” you placed a reassuring hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “You can whisk him off for the night, but don’t make him drunk,”

“Got it,” Sunghoon showed you two thumbs up, throwing his arm around Jay's shoulder.

“I’ll see you later? Call me if you need anything,”

“I’ll be okay, I have Chaewon and Zuha here,”

Jay only silently nodded, begrudgingly following his friend but making sure to turn back and take a last peek of you before fully disappearing away. You were left alone standing in the midst of the dancefloor, feeling a pair of eyes on you and you knew exactly who it was, Sujin.

Maybe this whole plan worked too well, it had you totally forgetting its original objectives and you couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. All you knew was that you needed a long and deep talk with Jay and whatever he said earlier definitely had you on the edge all night while he was somewhere getting wasted. Hey, someone had to be the responsible one, and it happened to be you.

“You’re telling me Heeseung spilled a drink over a girl a few days ago?”

You found yourself giggling and messing around with Chaewon and Kazuha, the three of you sharing odd stories of one another and it evolved into gossiping about your own dates. Chaewon turned to you, a cheeky grin wide on her face.

“You and Jay are dating right?” she nudged you playfully, Kazuha followed with a smile.

“I guess so?” you threw your hands up, sipping from a drink you didn’t really like but still endured.

“You seem unsure—oh wow, did he never confirm it between you two?”

“No, not that—” it was that, it was complicated. “It’s just something’s bugging me,”

“What is?” the two girls leaned in closer.

“Just, the other day at a party, I saw him coming out of a room with his ex and I got mad—”

“Rightfully so,”

“I heard his explanation and I felt bad for jumping to conclusions,”

“Oh, honey, it’s our first instinct, you don’t have to beat yourself up for it,”

“Yeah, I know, I do trust him, he didn’t seem to look like he had just freshly made out with her or anything, but something in me just doesn’t feel like I’ve fully made peace with this whole thing,”

“Which means?”

“I don’t know exactly, I think I’m either super paranoid or simply scared something bad might happen,”

“I might’ve not been with Sunghoon for long enough and I don’t even think we’re a thing, but I’ve hung out with him and Jay included, and it’s enough for me to say that Jay is a good guy. He might be a well known fuckboy at first encounter, but the more you got to know him, you’ll realise he’s actually the sweetest and nicest guy ever,”

“Excluding his reputation,” Chaewon added thoughtfully.

“Excluding that,” Kazuha repeated. “But he probably changed, I don’t see him at many parties anymore after he got with you. It’s cheesy to say but I think you might’ve changed that man,”

“Mhm,” Chaewon nodded along, placing a hand on your thigh and giving you a comforting pat. “Please don’t let some ex overwhelm your thoughts and sever your relationship, I’ve been there and it sucked, believe me. I see the way he looks at you, I can tell he likes you a lot, I really don’t wish anything to happen between you two,”

“Plus, the three of us needs to hang out more, go on dates together, it’ll be fun,”

“Agreed,”

You broke into a smile, laughing softly and leaned into Chaewon’s embrace. “I know we’ve barely met but would it be too soon to say I love you guys?”

“Never,” the two girls snickered in unison.

The night gradually passed without your knowledge, time practically nonexistent when you spoke to your new found besties, only noticing how late it was when you saw people slowly making their way to the exit, hand in hand with their partners, and you thought of Jay. Please don’t be high or drunk somewhere, or just both in general.

“God, look at the time, should we go find them?” Kazuha pointed out, Chaewon stretching her arms out beside her while you readjusted yourself uncomfortably in this dress.

“We really should, they’re probably drunk or something. Come on,” Kazuha pulled you up and it took your utmost strength to not collapse from the pain, all thanks to your killer heels you were now wincing everytime you walked. Beauty is pain indeed.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to spot the hockey guys, distinguishing Sunghoon’s glorious silver hair that shone particularly brighter under the lights from the mirrorball. Although they seemed sober still, you could tell they were beginning to be at their wits end, but forget about them, Jay was nowhere in sight and you couldn’t help feeling unease.

“Where’s Jay?”

“Oh, Jay?”

“Yes, Jay,” you folded your arm, staring expectantly at them.

“He got a call or something just ten minutes back, he said he was supposed to be back soon, as in right now, but he’s not here,” Heeseung said, trying to take a swig of his cup before it was swatted away by Chaewon. “He did go that way,” he pointed at the door that led out to the terrace.

“I’ll go get him,”

“Do you need any of us to help?”

“I’ll be fine … for now,” you gave them a smile of assurance, but you yourself were far from being assured.

Trudging your way past the dispersing crowd, you were wondering where Jay was, silently cursing him out as you continued your way even if your shoes were killing you. Never again. The terrace was a nice place to getaway, the open space looked out to a night sky that was illuminated by skyscrapers and stars, plus the cool night breeze made it even better.

The area was wide, tables and chairs littered here and there, but there was no five feet ten hockey player anywhere. You decided to walk around a little bit more, pulling your phone out and dialling Jay’s number, praying he was somewhere near. There was no way this would be a second reenactment of the party at the beach except this time it’s actually a real scary movie, right?

Wrong.

The moment you rang Jay, you managed a sigh of relief once you heard a ringtone sounding from a distance away, so as anyone would, you followed it, turning around a corner and you saw Jay’s back, elation filled your heart, but before you could even shout his name, your perfect bubble burst.

Jay wasn’t alone, no, he was with someone, a girl. You squint your eyes and you swore your knees turned into jelly in that second. Sujin, the dumpster ex, pulled him into a kiss. A mix of countless emotions swelled in you, whether it was anger, shock or sadness, all you knew was that you needed to get out right now. You couldn’t believe it, Jay, the guy you actually considered was doing this. Maybe trusting him was the worst idea you could ever conjure up your entire life.

“Fuck me,” you cursed out, maybe a little too loudly because it definitely did make Jay stumble back from his ex, turning around to meet your eyes and you could tell he was not expected you here, hell you weren’t even expecting yourself to be in this foolish position.

“What—Y/N?” Jay somewhat looked too disoriented, unaware of what was happening as though he had just woken up 10 years later. But you couldn’t care less, you were hurt and you weren’t about to pretend nothing had happened and start acting jolly good. No, you weren’t going to stand there to let the scene before you swallow you whole, no way, you were going to leave this situation, this stupid event and this entire agreement.

You stormed away, not daring to look back, mustering every bit of courage you had to swallow down a sob and remain prideful, even if it meant you had to fake it till you made it. Hurt wasn’t a stranger to you. You’ve experienced hurt in many forms. Physically, when you fell down on the rough rocky road; emotionally in terms of family, friends, love. But this was a hurt that resembled a deep cut, the feeling of being stabbed in the heart haunted your soul.

“Y/N, wait,”

Fuck, not here, not now, not when you were inside and standing in the middle of the room. Even though there was barely any one here by now, the guys from Jay’s hockey team remained, including Heeseung and Sunghoon, you were not ready to confront or be confronted.

“No, Jay, no ‘wait’,” you put your hand out, distancing yourself away from him, but you could still smell the alcohol in his breath. You wished and hoped he was sober enough for this, because in the next hour you were going to be the one drinking to death instead.

“I can explain—”

“Can you?”

“What?”

“Can you explain this time? Is it just a drunken mistake? Is that what you were going to say?”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, we aren’t even dating,”

Heads turned, you could sense people’s attention on the two of you now, but you were far from caring about that, not when Jay’s words felt exactly like a dig at your already fragile heart. God, you were so so stupid and naive.

“Say it again,” the words came out in a whisper, your lips trembling. “Say it again, say how we were never real, how all of this was just a fucking scheme to get back at your ex, and ha—!” you threw your hands up, swallowing down a lump in your throat, “it worked, didn’t it? I ended up falling for your tricks and I ended up falling for you too, funny isn’t it?

Jay’s face twisted upon digesting your words, but you went on.

“I should’ve known that you were using me all along just to get back with her…” you faltered, your voice eventually failing you.

“Y/N, come on…” he said weakly, but you just shook your head.

“Go back to her,”

“Don’t you get it? Fuck, I’d choose you over her, any day, any time. I’d choose you over everyone God damn it. Can’t you see that?”

Your mouth fell open for a second, but nothing could come out as a response.

To say that you were bewildered was an understatement indeed, you were absolutely stunned speechless. The man before you, despite looking in a daze from God knows how much alcohol he had consumed, showed that his eyes said otherwise, staring back at you with desperation, longing, pining and sadness. Your heart could only take so much.

“Goodnight, Jay.”

What pained you more was the fact that he didn’t even try after that. No, he didn’t call for you nor did he stop you from leaving like those scenes from your favourite rom coms, he just decided to let you go.

At one point, you really wished someone would come out and yell ‘this is a prank’ at you, but obviously, no one did. This whole thing was basically a reenactment of Cinderella, except it was a modern day and much more angsty version of every kid’s favourite movie.

Of course, you happened to be Cinderella and he was Prince Charming, the clock struck midnight, you were leaving him in a haste and he was left stranded alone in the middle of a dance, how ironic.

Oh, how you wished you were able to hide away from your own Prince Charming like the old mediaeval days.

“ARE YOU GOING TO CONTINUE CRYING OVER ‘HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS’?”

“Leave me alone,”

“It isn’t a good coping method,”

Somehow, it was already almost a week since that night. You remembered calling a cab in the dead of the night (dumb idea) and phoning Minji the whole way sobbing till the point where the driver had to pull over. You were pathetic and even a stranger could tell so, but you know what, he was nice about it and that’s the positives you’d take from that.

“And it’s ironic how I actually did somewhat lose a guy too,” you tried laughing, but it only sounded like a choke, Minji shaking her head sympathetically at you.

Speaking about Minji, she definitely wasn’t pleased to hear what had happened. Knowing her, you knew she was about to say ‘I told you so’ but seeing you in your pathetic state, she kept her mouth zipped and quiet, letting you into her bed and having a sob session. It was a crazy night.

“When will you hear him out—did you even hear him out in the first place?” Minji eyed you accusingly and you began cowering under her intense gaze.

“No…”

“Y/N,” Minji sighed, shifting closer to you. “I know the whole picture is super messy and totally off putting, but what if it was an accident?”

“Him kissing his ex is a pretty clear picture to me, how would it be an accident?” you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, mumbling disheartedly.

“What if he fell on her or something?”

“Now you sound absolutely ridiculous,” you scoffed.

“What I really mean is, you should go and talk it out with him, if not, this thing will just drag on and you’ll hurt more,”

“I don’t think I’m ready, the wound’s still fresh,”

“I get it,” Minji placed her head on your shoulder, snuggling on your side. “It takes time, and I don’t think he’s ready either.”

Jay wasn’t ready, in fact he thinks he’s never going to face you again.

The moment he watched you slip away from him that night, he knew it was best to just let you go. Or so he thought. Best believe he got an earful from both Heeseung and Sunghoon, not to mention their dates. He could still remember the bursts of disbelief from them, the amount of ‘it was fake?’ and ‘what did you do?’ rung through his head till now, where he stared blankly back at the rink, sitting silently on one of the seats in the stands.

“It’s barely 24 hours and it’s also a Sunday, what are you doing here?” the team’s captain boomed through the empty arena, approaching Jay and eventually taking a seat next to him.

“Taking my mind off … things, what are you doing here?” Jay regarded Heeseung for a moment.

“I figured you’re here,”

Jay nodded at Heeseung’s words, silence eventually filled the space between them. It was one of those moments where they knew something was wrong, but no one wanted to speak up about it.

“Are you not going to tell us what happened? Or did you simply decide to kiss your ex?” Heeseung broke the ice, coming off slightly harsh, detesting the silence from Jay. He knew this wasn’t the best friend he trusted his life with, the Jay he knew wasn’t a cheater, even if the relationship wasn’t real.

“Would you even believe me?”

“I would, I’ve known you for years, there’s no way you’re doubting my trust for you,” Heeseung rested his hand on Jay’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Jay ran his hand across his face, blinking momentarily before sighing deeply. “I wasn’t the one who kissed her. I don’t know what happened to lead up to that, but I swear she suddenly turned me around and pressed herself onto me. I was just chilling outside for fresh air,”

“You’re kidding,”

“If I was I wouldn’t be here at all,”

“Have you confronted Sujin?”

“Kind of? If you count screaming at her and telling Intak about it as a confrontation, then yes,” Jay was fidgeting with his fingers, his eyes trained on the rink. “I think Intak broke it off with her after,”

“Deserved,” Heeseung mused, a small smile on his face, karma truly worked wonders. “Now that’s settled, what about Y/N? I still can’t believe you roped her into a fake dating scheme just for that event,”

“Alright, alright, I’ve done some dumb shit and this was one of them, I know,” Jay admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat. “And I know I’ve hurt her … a lot, that’s why I don’t know how I can ever face her again,”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t chase after her that night,”

“I admit I did pussy out a little—”

“‘A little’?”

“Shut up,” Jay narrowed his eyes at his captain, who stared back, equally unamused. “I thought letting her go was the best choice, I was scared of hurting her more,”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, remaining quiet as he listened to his best friend opening up. Heeseung had these types of deep talk with Jay many times before, but this time, it was different. Being the one who stuck alongside Jay since his first breakup to now, he was the clearest when it came to Jay and his feelings. Over the years of witnessing Jay and his casual one nights, Heeseung expected it to last until the very day Jay retires from hockey, but your sole existence proved him wrong, and it definitely proved Jay wrong as well.

“Jay, do you like her?” Heeseung said after a while, catching the latter off guard.

“I–I–” Jay stammered, his body rigid and thoughts were circling in his mind. He didn’t just like you, he knows he’s fallen for you, you were the first girl to ever caught his eyes way before he even got to talk to you.

He remembered it clearly, you were the one who called hockey stupid in front of his face, oblivious to the fact that he played the sport. He was injured at that time, sitting in the stands and watching his team play when he heard your voice complaining, your then boyfriend next to you. Offended Jay was once he heard the insult, though he was fascinated by you, but it was just his fuckboy side talking and he ended up staying silent instead.

Next thing he knew, he was all recovered and you were in the crowd, your face blank, the seat next to you was empty. Jay assumed it was a break up, something in him was giddy and he went on to score a hat trick that night. After all that, people might assume he would’ve gotten your number already, right? Nope. He never had the guts to and you stopped coming to games, only appearing once in a few months, until that fateful night at the beach.

“I do like her, fuck,” Jay threw his head back, leaning into the seat and his hands on his face, swallowing deeply as if he was in trouble, maybe because he was. How was he going to tell you he liked you and confront you about that night? There were two big stones thrown at his head. "I like her so much till the point where I think the amount of denial I had is turning into delusions instead,"

"So, you've reached insanity, got it,"

"God, I haven't been romantically in love with many girls before, but I'm pretty sure this is what being in love feels like, right … ?"

Heeseung stared at Jay's pathetic expression, sighing deeply, clapping his back. "It's different for everyone but I can guarantee that you're on the right track, buddy,"

"Okay," Jay said breathlessly and nodded blankly, seeming as though he had just freshly figured out his feelings, putting the missing pieces into his puzzle. "Got it, but how do I apologise to her now?"

"What do you mean? Just go up to her and talk, say sorry and explain,"

"I feel like that's not enough,"

A sudden spark alighted in Heeseung's eyes, a shiver equally went down Jay's spine when he witnessed that before him. Lee Heeseung and his ideas were a mix of trouble and sometimes success, mainly trouble. “You know, Sunghoon pitched this idea to me yesterday, he said something about this is how you get the girl,”

The mention of Sunghoon's name and his idea didn't help at all.

“Write her an apology on our jumbotron,”

“You're insane,”

“And we happen to have access to it,”

“... tell me more.”

YOU WERE REGRETTING YOUR CHOICE OF AGREEING TO HEESEUNG AND SUNGHOON’S INVITE.

Hockey games were never up your alley, they knew that, but somehow they still managed to pull you into attending their game, even after what had happened. They did offer to bring you out for a luxurious buffet and you guessed it was their way of an apology, not passing up on it either.

“This better be worth it,” you grumbled under your breath, settling into your seat, glancing down at the rink, making it a strenuous effort to not stare at him. Ladies, do not chase, attract. You were not about to go running after Jay, nope, never.

No matter how hard you tried suppressing the thought of Jay, it lingered nevertheless. You wondered when he would talk to you again, or if he ever would, and being the most stubborn person you were, you weren’t going to confront him despite the need of an explanation clawing at your deepest desires.

The first and second period rolled by mindlessly and you were starting to be at your wits end, reminding you why you barely ever attend hockey games after your ex, but at least the home team was leading. The third period was slightly more thrilling thanks to the small fight between two players, enraging you and the crowd, but once the puck landed on Jay’s end of the stick, everyone was on their feet, watching him zoom past the defensemen.

Without saying, Jay scored the game’s winning goal, the crowd going wild. You couldn’t help smiling, the whole team engulfed him wholly, making you let out a small giggle, and you had to admit, times like this where teams win crucial games do make you happy. Meanwhile, what you hadn’t noticed was the fact that Jay was glancing up at the crowd, his eyes searching for your figure.

On the other hand, what you did notice was the jumbotron. A video of Jay doing his celebration flashed big on the screen, a giant ‘GOAL’ next to his head, but there was another line of words under that caught your attention at once, knowing it was directed at you. ‘I’m sorry and I miss you. I’ll wait for you, even if it’s a lifetime. Please come back to me.’ Totally not heartbreaking and gut wrenching for you!

Screw being a cold hearted girl boss, all you wanted was to run back to him.

Slinging your bag onto your shoulder, your mind was in a mess as you made your way out, squeezing past people and mumbling apologies in return. You mentally made a list of things you were going to do. First, run back to the dorms. Second, cry. Third, figure shit out. Just to make matters messier, your journey out wasn’t the smoothest, especially when you had to bump into Jay’s dumpster ex. What great timing this was.

“Y/N?” Sujin was shocked to see you, but you were clearly unimpressed.

“You still have the guts to turn up in front of me? In here? In a school you don’t go to?”

“I–I just wanted to talk to you,”

“Me? What’s there to say?” you crossed your arms, staring expectantly at her.

“Look, Jay didn’t kiss me, I kissed Jay, you get it?”

You blinked. Were you supposed to get it? As much as you wished you didn’t, you did, and your mind turned into a worse state of mush. God rest your soul, you were about to pull someone’s hair out.

“What?” you exclaimed incredulously, furiousness crawling into your system. “So, you’re telling me you basically threw yourself onto him?”

“I suppose?”

“Wow, you really are a freaky ex, not freaky in a good way either,” you gestured at Sujin, a sick feeling in your stomach. It was never Jay’s fault, but his dumpster ex, and maybe all along he was trying to explain his side, yet you didn’t listen. Now, you felt like an idiot and an asshole. “You can stay in the dumpster and never return. You’re sick and twisted and I hope you’ll never turn up and harass Jay ever again, you got it? Or else I’ll curse you into being single forever,”

“I—”

You didn’t let her finish, you couldn’t bother to do so, instead you turned away, speed walking towards the locker rooms that unknowingly became yours and Jay’s meeting spot. Heart beating quick, your feet stumbling from walking too fast, your breath heaving, you were getting anxious. By the time you were standing in front of the locker room, sweat was trickling down the side of your face, whether it was from pure anxiety or just walking, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you needed to talk to Jay.

“Y/N, what brings you here?” Heeseung had his hands in his pockets, headphones around his neck, looking fresh off the shower as he greeted you. “I know Sunghoon and I invited you for dinner but I don’t think it’s tonight—”

“Where’s Jay?”

“Jay?” Heeseung repeated, he didn’t seem like he was believing what he had heard. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your head.

“Are there other ‘Jay's' that you know?”

“Uh—no,” Heeseung stammered, shaking his head as if he’s trying to shake his dizziness away. “Jay left already, Y/N,”

“Oh,” it was obvious how deflated you became, the drop in your voice and disappointment written all over your face. Heeseung gave you an apologetic smile, but you could only manage a small wave of goodbye and a quiet bid of goodnight before turning back to the original path to the exit.

To say you felt frustrated, embarrassed, sad was an understatement, those words would never amount to the real emotions you were feeling. You were a mess, your love life was in a big distress and practically crumbling apart. The walk home couldn’t be more depressing than usual, can’t it?

Taylor Swift playlists to sob to, a tub of strawberry ice cream, a random rom com were all going to be your biggest hug of the night.

“GODS, THIS IS MISERABLE,”

A tub of half eaten ice cream sat sadly on your bedside table, a 90s romcom remained playing in the background. You couldn’t help frowning at the sight of the two leads falling in love, everything felt pathetic at this point.

You truly did stick to your words. Arriving back to an empty dorm room, courtesy to Minji for staying over at her boyfriend’s place, you practically had the whole dorm to yourself, meaning a space of free self loathing, you ran to your bed and plummeted into it. It took everything in you to not let out a blood curdling scream, instead you just took your laptop out and put on your favourite movie.

It was still early, midnight was barely approaching, so you were glad to be able to stay awake longer. It began raining heavily outside, a perfect sign for you to be in your sheets, reading your unfinished book that you’ve left hanging since months back. The whole scene of you being in bed on a rainy Friday night truly reflected a part from a romcom, how ironic it was.

In the midst of ‘16 Candles’ playing loudly on your laptop, the doorbell rang out of the blue. You froze, pausing the movie, slight paranoia creeping onto you. Right, being alone in an empty dorm room with a thunderstorm happening outside definitely wasn’t a common plot from horror. At first, you planned to ignore it, but a second ring prompted you to muster your courage to open the door.

‘I’m going to be fine’ chants were circling your mind as you approached the front door, one hand on the door knob, eyes glancing back and forth at the kitchen knife, you weren’t going down without a fight. A turn of the door knob and a pull of hand, the door swung open to a man. Wait. Not just any man—

“Jay?”

His name naturally rolled off your tongue, but your eyes couldn’t believe he’s actually standing right in front of you.

Jay stared back, equally startled, as though he hadn’t expected you to open the door for him. He was standing there like a ghost, fully drenched from head to toe, shaking from the rain. His face was impassive, but his gaze showed otherwise, a hint of sadness and desperation painted in his brown irises.

“Are you insane?”

Jay glanced down at his attire that was basically soaked to the core, a small sigh escaping his lips. “We need to talk, Y/N,”

You nodded wordlessly, your eyes unknowingly avoiding his piercing gaze as you slowly backed away to the kitchen, grabbing a dry towel. “Here,” you handed Jay the towel, your hand shaking a little.

“Thanks. Can I—” he took a peek over your shoulder, “—come in?”

“I—yeah,” you were slightly alarmed, moving to the side for him to enter before shutting the door, making sure to draw in a big breath to calm your nerves.

“Y/N, please let me explain—”

“Jay, I’m really sorry—”

The two of you halted, realising that you’ve spoken in unison, the silence dawning on the both of you. Jay broke into an awkward smile and you felt yourself grinning just a little. Jay gestured at you to continue, so you did, letting out the things you’ve bottle in for days.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened and I just jumped to conclusions, which was wrong for me to do but—” you swallowed, blinking hard, “—but it was heart wrenching for me to see you kissing someone else, especially when it’s your ex, and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid that I’m feeling this way when we’re not even a thing!”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N,”

“It is,”

“It’s not,” Jay repeated, taking a step closer, a look of pining in his eyes as he searched for yours. You didn’t realise how much you’ve truly missed him until you saw him close. “I never intended to kiss Sujin, you know? I went out because she called me saying she needed help, and she took the chance when I was confused to kiss me. I know I’ve asked for you to trust me before, but if you don’t, I’ll get it,”

“I do,” you said at once, eliciting a small look of surprise from him. “I spoke to her,”

“What?”

“She admitted it to me, and I wanted to find you after the game but you were already gone, then I realised how much of an Idiot I was,”

“Ah,” Jay said softly under his breath, combing his fingers through his hair, seemingly trying to digest everything in. The beat of silence was suffocating you gradually, uneasiness hung in the cold air of your dorm. It took you everything to pour the words you’ve been holding in your heart out.

“I trust you, I do, but what are we, Jay? What are we doing?” you breathed out, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip. “If you want to end it here, then say it—”

“We can be anything you want,”

“I want you, Jay,” you blurted out, it was too late to turn back and run now. “I don’t want you to need me, I want you to want me, just as much as I want you,”

Jay stepped closer, testing the waters between you and him before sensing the green light from you to continue further. Space was practically nonexistent, you were inches from him, letting his hand wander from your face to the back of your neck, naturally leaning into his warm touch that reminded you of the feeling of fire on a cold night. The hand resting on the back of your neck pulled you in closer, one wrong move and you would be kissing him.

“I do want you,” Jay said quietly, the minty scent laced in his breath entering your senses. “I like you, Y/N. There’s no doubt about that, I know it. I’m aware that this whole thing started out fake and I expected nothing from it, but when I realised I felt something more for you, I was scared you would leave, especially since I had a history of—”

“Being a fuckboy?”

Jay rolled his eyes, grinning at the unamused look on your face. “That. So I thought letting you go after that night was a good decision, that my feelings would eventually disappear and you wouldn’t be hurt anymore, but God, I ended up hurting you instead and you have no idea how I had lost my mind,”

“Jay…” you were quite literally speechless, his words didn’t just had to tongue tied and had rendered you wordless completely, it made your insides twist and turn in the most childish way, it made you feel like you were a teenage girl who had just talked to her crush for the first time, you were giddy.

“I choose you, my love. Any day, any time, anywhere. It’s always going to be you, only you,”

You were resisting the urge to break into the cheesiest smile ever, Park Jong Seong was about to be the death of you. “I like you too, big head. If you don’t kiss me now, I might change my mind,”

“You’re going to be the death of me,”

Jay finally closed the space between you and him, pressing his lips on yours feverishly, your honey flavoured melting onto his lips and his cologne swarmed your senses, this was heaven. His hand travelled back to rest on your cheek, while yours was having a field trip travelling up his chest and into his hair, giving a slight tug which resulted in a groan from him. You tilted your head, feeling Jay part his lips and deepening the kiss, his other hand on your waist to pull you much more closer, your body now pressed up against his.

“Y/N,” he mumbled against your lips as you gently pushed him towards your couch.

You hummed in response, feeling his body fall onto the couch with a thud and you followed suit, falling onto his lap, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You opened your eyes, pulling away to meet his heavy gaze that was staring back with equal desire.

“Be my girlfriend?” his voice came out in a whisper, but your ears perked up at those three words, a teasing grin pulled at your lips and your hand instinctively reached for his cheek to squeeze, earning a look of annoyance and endearment from him.

“Only if you take me out to dinner first, big head,”

“You’re such a tease,” he chuckled, pressing a haste kiss on the side of your lips and you giggled, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead.

“I’d be crazy to say ‘no’ after all this, you idiot,” you flicked at his forehead, eliciting a sharp hiss and a piercing glare from him, reminding you of a black cat. “So, yes, I’d like to be your girlfriend,”

You watched the man before you smiling wider than the time he won the championship with his team last season, his eyes shining bright and face beaming. Gosh, he was such a dream. One hand cupped your cheek, pinching it softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll treat you like my wife instead,”

You rolled your eyes at his words, deadpanning at him. “You’re too cheesy, Park Jong Seong,”

“And you love me for that.” he said in a sing-song tone before bringing you in for another kiss, this time softer and gentler, as if Jay was scared he would shatter you if he had kissed you too hard.

If you had the choice to stay just like this for the next few hours, you would gladly take it. You were relieved everything was well now, even if it meant Jay's wet pants were staining your couch, but you're sure Minji would understand.

Just as Taylor Swift would say, you believe you were entering your 'Lover' era, and you couldn't wait to be with your hotheaded hockey boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, with no space.

“SO … YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN INTO ME ALL ALONG?”

It has been a few months since you and Jay made it official together. To top off the unforgettable experience, Minji came home the next day to see you and him cuddling in bed, not missing the chance to get a picture and proceeding to give Jay a humble Ted Talk during breakfast, but it was all good after.

Jay did stick to your request and bring you out for dinner, but Heeseung and Sunghoon unintentionally beat him to it first by dragging you to the buffet they promised before Jay’s fancy dinner night, and he was forced to follow begrudgingly. Breaking the news to Heeseung and Sunghoon was definitely an interesting occurrence, including the usual bro talk and the crazy ship names, but in the end, they were glad you were finally together with Jay and was miles prouder of Jay for finally working up the courage to confess.

Now, here you were, on a Saturday night at Jay’s apartment enjoying a glass of wine, a random rom com in the background as promised of a marathon, and listening to your tipsy boyfriend spill about his first impression of you, which led to him unveiling the part where he laid eyes on you during the hockey game.

“Not always, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jay cut you off, raising an eyebrow at you. "I still can't believe you called hockey stupid,"

"It was a moment of hatred, okay?" You tapped his chin, swirling the wine glass in your hand. "Now, I'm a big hockey fan,"

"You're stupid,"

You feigned a dramatic gasp, punching his shoulder softly. "You're stupid … stupid,"

"Yes, yes, I am," Jay eventually gave in, closing in and pressing his lips onto yours, tasting the familiar taste of the red wine on your tongue. "I'm so grateful to have you with me, lovely. What would I be doing without you?"

"Fucking other girls?"

"You've ruined the mood,"

You laughed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "I'm kidding. You would be in a ditch without me,"

"You're not wrong," Jay's thumb was grazing against your lip, his eyes half-lidded, the alcohol in his system overpowering. "God, I love you,"

"I love you more, big head," you said, feeling a swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly in your abdomen. Jay was perfect, too perfect that it intimidated you, but what you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you too. "Are you turning red, Jong Seong?"

"What? Pft, it's the wine," he waved your words off, turning away to hide the obvious that he was becoming a shade of pink and maroon. You snorted at his ridiculousness, pushing his face to face back at you.

"Kiss me again?"

"You make me such a happy man, you know that?" Jay grinned, saying nothing more and pulled you in, abandoning his wine glass.

Jay couldn’t help but smile against your lips, being the happiest man in the entire universe at this moment, because he knew he finally got the girl, his girl, and there was no way he would ever lose you again. Never.

4K notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 9 months

Text

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences.

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end.

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night.

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it.

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property. Let’s try to play nice and show face.

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do.

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl.

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.”

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway.

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts.

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer.

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right.

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him.

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.”

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.”

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound.

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top.

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well.

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed.

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom.

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely.

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck.

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone.

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal.

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house.

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced.

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly.

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses.

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel.

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops.

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning.

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients.

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store.

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time.

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes.

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in.

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required.

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm.

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you.

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space.

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too.

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work.

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms.

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room.

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time.

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back.

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you.

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.”

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.”

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.”

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for.

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning.

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability.

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly.

So he does.

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly.

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you.

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds.

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees.

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no.

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs.

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead.

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it.

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to.

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.”

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.”

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.”

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair.

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out.

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.”

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful.

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough.

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck yeah, Angel.”

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him.

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him.

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching.

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home.

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier.

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything.

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love.

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day.

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.”

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake.

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be.

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time.

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.”

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it.

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth.

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have.

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to.

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself.

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters.

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself.

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now.

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him.

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner.

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers.

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile.

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head.

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin.

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator.

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly.

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away.

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning.

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip.

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement.

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left.

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt.

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen.

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something.

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss.

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle.

Money. This man has money.

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately.

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either.

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.”

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder.

“I will fucking kill you.”

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast.

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.”

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.”

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen.

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life.

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is.

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.”

“Okay.”

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“See you soon.”

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat.

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood.

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin.

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe?

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi.

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.”

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting.

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead?

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated.

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again.

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost.

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm.

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have.

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage.

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it.

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live.

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple.

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off.

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried.

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined.

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety.

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Click. Squeeze. Bang.

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand.

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang.

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels.

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified.

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!”

“That’s it, keep talking to me.”

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!”

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths.

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?”

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place.

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather.

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off.

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun.

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you.

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home.

Home.

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare.

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now.

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only.

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense.

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this.

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling.

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.”

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching.

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk.

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs.

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle.

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him.

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver.

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw.

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good.

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good.

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you.

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking.

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.”

“Fuck.”

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little.

“Fuck yeah.”

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself.

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.”

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.”

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.”

“Mmm.”

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying.

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock.

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad.

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity.

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?”

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.”

“Shit shit shit shit.”

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it.

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest.

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #mafia yoongi #mafia bts #minors dni #minors do not interact #halis happy agust

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theamberfist · 11 days

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One Blind Mouse | Uncle Alastor + Reader

Familial! Alastor is Reader's Uncle

Description: One day after an overlord meeting, Alastor stumbles upon a giant demonic mouse that he soon realizes is his relative from life.

(Notes: CW Alastor, death, violence) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's niece/nephew/whatever term you prefer) (Reader is blind) (Reader is a mouse sinner) (Pretend Alastor had a sister for the sake of this oneshot)

Words: 2,940

Alastor's ears perked at the familiar sound of screams that always seemed to accompany the streets of hell. He'd just stepped out of a surprisingly entertaining overlord meeting and now his high spirits lead him to take a walk down the road.

This part of the city, being Carmilla Carmine's territory, was significantly less of a disaster compared to most of hell, and although he didn't enjoy the area nearly as much as some others- such as Rosie's Cannibal Town- it was still a pleasurable enough experience. As he walked, he calmly held his microphone-cane behind his back and took in all the sights.

Most of it was nothing out of the ordinary; sinners running in fear at the mere sight of him, remnants of bloody fights and brawls, as well as a few trashed buildings and alleyways the overlord expected Carmilla to be very unhappy about.

Alastor sighed. If there was one thing he both loved and hated about hell it was that every day tended to be just the same. Territory disputes, murders that were ultimately never permanent, and newly-killed human souls ending up fearful and disoriented as they randomly appeared throughout hell were all nothing he hadn't seen before. In his time living down here, he'd come to place great value on entertainment and breaks from normality. At the very least, they made afterlife in hell a little more fun.

It was because of this he considered summoning Husk or even Nifty to liven things up. That was what he normally did when he lacked any other form of entertainment, but before he could even decide which to rip from their normal lives, a new sound reached his ears that suddenly caught his attention.

It was almost akin to a roar; something he would have expected to hear from a lion or even a dinosaur if they were more common forms for sinners to take on. Glancing up, he now realized the sound had come from just a few blocks away, where a giant figure towered over some of the nearby buildings.

It looked like a huge...rat? That was the best way Alastor could describe the entity; with glowing grey eyes, demonic markings, and surprisingly sharp claws and teeth. The rat was ripping apart the nearby buildings as sinners screamed and tried to run away, which made the Radio Demon's ever-present smile widen. It seemed he'd found some entertainment at last.

So of course, he made his way towards where the rat was towering over buildings; realizing it was right on the edge of Carmilla's territory; approaching that of the V's. He hadn't even realized he'd been so close to their space but it hardly mattered now. While he'd at first assumed the rat's goal to be complete destruction simply for the sake of discussion, that didn't seem to be the case now that he observed them.

They were ignoring most of the frightened sinners around them; aside from a few that happened to scream extra loud as they ran. Instead, their focus was more towards the nearest building; a TV store in which every single piece of merchandise had a different channel playing at once that made for quite an obnoxious display of sound. Even Alastor wanted to cover his ears, not stopping the giant rat sinner as they tore the place apart sloppily.

He continued watching the scene for a few more moments until a car finally showed up nearby and a tech-related sinner stepped out with a frightened look on her face. Alastor recognized her as one of Vox's employees from back when they'd still been friends, though he was surprised the TV producer hadn't fired her yet with his poor track record of employees.

Once out of the car, she approached the giant rat cautiously; as if unsure of how to handle the situation.

"E-excuse me?" The sinner called, though the rat ignored her, "I demand you stop! This store is property of Vox Tech and you're going to have to pay for any damages you cause!" Alastor's smile only widened now, curious to see whether this seemingly out-of-control sinner would even acknowledge the tech demon or if they'd just continue to go about their destruction. If his employee couldn't handle things, perhaps Vox would even come all the way down here himself, and wouldn't that be a treat to watch?

As expected, the rat ignored her as they crushed another giant flat-screen TV between their claws. The Vox Tech employee seemed almost offended as she came closer to them.

"How dare you?!" She exclaimed louder now; taking on a more demonic form that was indicative of her anger, "Have you no respect for the art of television?!" This seemed to finally get the rat's attention because they paused, dropping the shattered TV and turning to face her as they gazed down.

"Art?" They repeated, their voice coated with that demonic tone one became accustomed to hearing while in hell. Alastor raised an eyebrow at the realization that this was not their regular form, wondering what they could have originally looked like but not saying anything just yet. "You call this art?!"

The rat grabbed another TV and threw it at the tech demon, nearly crushing her under its weight if she hadn't gotten out of the way in time. "This is pathetic!"

Alastor had to agree there. Television had always been a lesser form of media to him, and it seemed this other sinner understood that too. Perhaps when they calmed down the two of them would get along.

Though, there was another part of him that took note of how familiar this particular was...

The rat grabbed two more TV screens and crushed them in either hand now; snarling. "Don't pretend to know anything about art if you support him!" Alastor knew without needing to ask that they were referring to Vox, which made his smile widen even more. It seemed he really would get along with this rat. Though, the more he listened to them speak, the more it felt like he should recognize that voice.

"Don't make me tell you again! Unhand our property!" The tech demon tried, though she was shaking as the giant rat stared her down.

"No." The rat replied before tossing another TV at her. This time, it managed to hit her and she was knocked back into the nearby wall. It seemed the impact was enough to kill her, too, because her body finally went limp. Alastor knew she wouldn't be dead for long before regenerating but it had done the job for now, anyway.

It seemed the only one that didn't realize that was the rat because they reached for another blaring TV and tossed it in the direction of the now-dead sinner again. Then they grabbed another and did the same before repeating the act again and again until every last screen had been destroyed.

It was only then that the Radio Demon realized what was going on as he watched the giant rat feel around the destroyed store for any more Vox Tech Products; they were blind.

They couldn't actually see the tech demon when she'd shown up; they'd only known where to throw the TV based on where they'd heard her voice. They'd been sloppily feeling around and grabbing TV's earlier because they could hear the obnoxious sounds coming from them, and they'd only killed the extra loud sinners because they could hear where they were.

How interesting, Alastor thought as he watched the rat's shoulders rise and fall as they caught their breath. They were far from the first blind person he'd met but they were the first one he'd run into in hell thus far. Based on the display he'd just witnessed though, they were doing just fine down here despite not having sight. He was about to step forward and introduce himself when a peculiar sight stopped him.

The rat, which had been giant just a moment ago, was now shrinking in size before his very eyes. They went from being taller than the nearby building to becoming so small he couldn't even see them from where he stood anymore.

Curious, he stepped forward, realizing they'd shrunk to the size of a mouse. And, in fact, it seemed that that was exactly what they were; not a rat, like he'd presumed earlier. Like most sinners in hell, they still possessed human qualities, but the big mouse ears on their head and the tail made it apparent which animal they were meant to resemble.

Amusement shined in the Radio Demon's eyes now as he continued observing the little creature. This tiny mouse had done all that damage just moments ago; leaving one of Vox's stores in complete ruin. He never would have expected them to possess that kind of strength based on how they looked, but it made him all the more curious of their motive as he now approached them.

"Well, hell there!" He called. Immediately, the mouse jumped in surprise and reached for their ears as if they were in pain. "My, that was quite a display!" He went on, ignoring their clear shock, "May I ask what might have prompted it?"

There was a long pause as the tiny sinner regarded him, now bent at the waist so that his face was a little closer to their eye level. For a second he wondered if they really were capable of speaking or if he'd simply imagined it earlier, but then they shouted.

"Uncle Al?!" Their voice, which had lost its demonic edge and returned to normal now, suddenly sounded so familiar that it felt as if the Radio Demon had been hit by a truck. How had he not recognized you before? What other little demon could have casually caused so much destruction to a TV store than his own niece/nephew/etc?

"Why, is that you, my little mouse?" He asked with a grin so wide it nearly hurt. You nodded eagerly, immediately running up to hug him. You were so small, though, that you could really only latch onto his ankle.

"It is, Uncle!" You replied, only now realizing how ironic his old nickname for you had turned out to be. You'd known the second you'd heard his voice that it was your favorite family member and finding him again like this couldn't have made you happier. Alastor chuckled, kneeling and placing a hand beside your little body on the ground. Once you felt it beside you, you immediately climbed on and then he carefully held you up so that you were closer to his eye-level.

"And here I'd thought you ended up in heaven!" He told you, though his tone only held amusement. Your presence had always been enjoyable to him; ever since you were a baby. When he'd died, he'd been surprised to find he actually missed the nights when he used to have to come over and babysit you for his dear little sister's sake.

"Nope," you told him, "But I'm pretty sure mama is there! I've been alone down here for years." The Radio Demon nodded at that. Like their mother, he'd had no doubt his sister had gone to heaven. Your presence in hell was a surprise, but with how mischievous you'd been as a child, it made some sense, even if he hadn't gotten to see how you turned out when you grew up.

"It must have been quite lonely being by yourself." He replied as he brought you to his coat pocket now. You felt around the area before seemingly deciding it was acceptable and getting comfortable within the fabric.

"And loud." You nodded. Alastor didn't doubt that; you'd had great hearing even when you were alive, so he imagined those big mouse ears made it even more amplified now. "I hate television."

"I agree with you there!" Alastor replied as he began walking back down the street with you safely tucked into his pocket now. "Especially since the whole point of it is to see the pictures, isn't it?" You nodded, crossing your arms in disdain. "At least radio is tasteful." In life, you'd always loved tuning into your uncle's nightly broadcasts. No matter what you and your mother had been doing at the time, you'd always made her take you home to hear them. Alastor nodded in amusement now.

"Uncle Al, where are we going anyway?" You asked suddenly.

"Well, I do still have a broadcast to run!" The Radio Demon replied, "I'm sure the citizens of hell will want to hear about that giant mouse causing so much destruction earlier." You giggled and got a little more comfortable in the demon's pocket. "Now, while we talk, do tell me more about those demonic powers of yours?" The fact that you possessed the ability to grow and shrink between more and less terrifying forms just like he did was certainly not lost on him, and nor was the possibility of capitalizing on those powers with the potential of you two taking over hell as family.

♡ After that you're almost always found in Alastor's pocket whenever he goes anywhere

♡ Sometimes you like to hide in his pocket and then pop up at random times, which he used to scare some of the hotel guests after the first found you

♡ You go into your demon form whenever you get angry, which usually happens when you're surrounded by way too many loud noises at once and get overwhelmed

♡ Alastor thought it was entertaining at first but after the third time you broke his coat pocket by transforming while he was literally carrying you around, he invested in some cute little earmuffs to prevent it

♡ Everybody at the hotel thought you were adorable once they got past the initial shock of A) Alastor having a niece/nephew/etc and B) the fact that you'd popped out of his pocket and startled them

♡ Vaggie lets you ride on her hair bow sometimes and Charlie absolutely loves to pet your mouse ears (she's very gentle but sometimes gets too excited and Alastor has to pull you away from her)

♡ You were terrified of Husk at first because he's a cat and Alastor, always looking for entertainment, did nothing to help with that fear

♡ So for a while every time you would be near Husk he would have to be super careful not to scare you and make you go into demon form

♡ That was until you realized who you really had to be afraid of; Nifty

♡ She associates mice with uncleanliness so she tried to stab you many times at first. Alastor never let her actually succeed but he did enjoy watching her chase you around the hotel for the first week

♡ That was how you got over your fear of Husk because he would sometimes let you hide behind the bar in between the bottles of wine. He even fed you a piece of cheese once and you were sold on him after that

♡ Eventually though, a solution was reached with Nifty when Charlie suggested they dress you in nice clothes (A red striped suit like Alastor's or a dress version of his outfit, fitted for your tiny self) in order to give the cyclops a visibly difference between you and the actual vermin she was supposed to kill

♡ That worked well but you're still too scared to go near Nifty most of the time

♡ Sir Pentious dubbed you an honorary egg because you were close to them in size and he thought you were just so cute. He got you a little hat like the ones they wear and would even let you ride atop his hat (kind of like Alice with the Mad Hatter in the live action Alice in Wonderland)

♡ Angel Dust also loves you and one of the first things he did was introduce you to Fat Nuggets, whom you adored

♡ Sometimes you ride Nuggets around the hotel like a horse since you're the perfect size for it and Angel has many photos on his phone of the two of you being absolutely adorable

♡ Despite how he may seem, Alastor can be a very protective uncle. Since you've come to the hotel, he makes sure everyone keeps their volume down most of the time so as not to bother your sensitive ears. If anyone so much as raises their voice in your presence they're met with his sadistic expression and radio dial eyes as a warning

♡ No one is allowed to watch TV when you're around either; he doesn't care that English Descriptive Audio exists he just doesn't want you to feel sad that you can't have a normal experience like everyone else because that used to get to really you when you were a kid

♡ Since you're always in his pocket, you've met most of the other overlords at meetings and things

♡ Rosie adores you and every time she meets with Alastor she brings along a new mouse-sized outfit she sewed for you as a gift. You have a whole wardrobe of tasteful clothes made by her now

♡ Zestial and Carmilla think you're cute but won't ever admit it. They just smile whenever you pop out of Alastor's pocket during a meeting; wanting to see what they're all talking about

♡ You did meet Vox once because Alastor ran into him on the street

♡ That went about as well as expected and you turned into your demon form due to his loudness and the fact that he insulted your uncle

♡ You and Alastor took turns beating Vox up that day

..........

Headcannons related to this concept: Cursed-Cat and Mouse

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pageofheartdj · 3 months

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All jokes and horny aside(I do love horny and specific position only🙏 and them fighting over everything always ever and ooc fun scenarious) radioapple are so interesting to think about, about their dynamics, and the characters in general. So I will!

As they are in canon now, Lucifer did not care for Alastor plus the general disgust(and guilt) towards sinners. And then the song happened and Alastor became Lucifer's enemy number one xD If Alastor will drop it, Lucifer won't have a reason to hate on him, but initial negative imperssion is still there.

And Alastor, he is a mysterious guy. The abusive dad is still a theory, him being momma boy and therefore connecting with women better doesn't say anything about his dad situation. The Lilith's deal is also just a theory for now. So for me his immediate negative reaction comes from the same place as his annoyance at Carmilla disregarding him. He wants to be on the top, the most unknown, the most powerful one, the most scary one. He loves attention, he loves keeping everyone alert with his antics.

And he loves being in control, his plans going exactly the way he wants them, not that he can't improvise. He immediately tenses when he sees the sign welcoming dad, he knows. The King of Hell has the ultimate power, the ultimate influence, the ultimate importance. Alastor does not mind someone being more than him in something like he is politely neutral with Zestial. But the hotel carries importance for Alastor's plans so he feels threatened. Before with Charlie's daddy issues I guess he did not expect to see him anytime soon. But here he is, threatening to pull Charlie from his influence, from her needing his powers.

But then we see him being completely chill and not antagonistic at all. One of the reasons I think is that he let his stim out, for a reason being restricted in his activities, the deals he can make, the souls he can take, the kills. And because Charlie needed Lucifer to arrange a meeting with Heaven, something that only Lucifer can do. And that's it. So he lets go for a bit.

Who knows what dynamic season 2 will bring, now that Lucifer stays at the hotel and Alastor took a hard blow at his ego and reputation.

In the wiki it is stated Alastor dislikes people who are like him, but likes people who are more like him, but who knows where is this line. He also said to like Willy Wonka character for being an entertainer and a dick. And Lucifer was told to be like that character. For now Lucifer is a depressed sad baby, but we saw how he can be when he is fucking with others. Alastor likes fun, no matter how this fun is done. Potentially he can enjoy Lucifer's presence. Not to mention, he respects power, at least when the whatever deal with Alastor is done, potentially.

Don't know how prevalent this is now, but both seem to enjoy collecting certain things, like ducks and those firby toys. Both were drawn to dance-vibe with each other.

Speaking of, both love music and play instruments, they can totally jam with each other, making their own little concerts.

Lucifer's idea of sinners will be definetely challenged with Alastor. It's one thing to meet a nice sinner and think 'ah they are not like everyone else'. But it's a completely different thing when this sinner is exactly what you hate about them, the maniac who loves violence. And then you have to come to terms that even THEY can become better, can have something to them. Lucifer drowned himself in guilt and shame, it would be nice to get a bit in touch with people in Hell. Because it seems like he stays away from most things sinners bring with themselves.

Alastor was told to like theatres, so it would be nice for them to go together, to try and see something good from humanity even in Hell. Something that can still keep not being corrupted. And humans creativity and artistism can definetely spark more hope back to Lucifer.

And I think Lucifer would appreciate someone who treats him as equal, it doesn't look like he cares much about being a King, so having someone who will not shy away at punching first can be good.

Lucifer's main support of course would be Charlie(and hopefully hotel crew), but having someone who he can rely to get things actually done is pleasant. He is a King of Hell but he doesn't often act like one, he surely will benefit from someone who can act appropriately spooky. (He can get scary, but I think he needs to get MAD mad for this side of him to appear and at that point you better have Charlie around to calm him down)

And they have to keep the beef part of their interactions, it's just fun to have someone you can freely argue with with no hard feelings afterwards, just a battle of words, their interests don't always aligning. And it's fun to mindlessly banter about them. Like their sweet and bitter food preference, or cooking techniques, etc. Small irrelevant things, or maybe even some clash of ideals, but it is oh so fun to let yourself go lose and not hold back.

It would be nice for them to develop mutual respect and learn to care about each other's boundaries, be it the painful personal history, or choices of leading the relationship.

Yes, the aroace situation. Start with simple, I do not believe Lucifer is straight(nor NT xD) and he is perfectly sex-positive(he started with no experience and no shame either xD). He is more on a demi spectrum for me, getting excitedly horny only with close people(one-times can happen, it's a grey(literally) area). And Alastor... he is touch-aversed until you are close, then the touching is required(both gentle and playful and rough, depending if he wants to sooth himself or get energised or let the stim out). The same with the bed situation. He gets attracted long after all the other bonds are formed. He is sex-indifferent, never wanted with anyone so never went there. He is perfectly content with himself. And when it starts, yet again, depending on what it feels like in the moment.(cannibalism was not the only thing he grew to like in Hell(¬‿¬))

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel alastor #radioapple

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an-idyllic-novelist · 1 year

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100 Milestone Event - raiden taeemon with mitsuri!reader! short story 🍡

Here it is everyone, the milestone event for reaching +100 followers! This is also part two of another milestone on my yandere blog!

The link will be here, so definitely check it out first before reading this one! Special thanks to @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me with the sections I was struggling to write. Not gonna lie, Raiden’s dialogue is a bit hard lol. So with that being said: sit back, relax and enjoy! :)

warnings: canon divergence of manga, violence, strong language.

The moment Raiden Taeemon witnessed the strength of a Hashira is a memory he would never forget.

In Valhalla, there were many activities to entertain the masses such as gambling or martial arts tournaments, but sumo matches have been providing just the right amount of spectacle and violence far longer than any known sport. Even gods had become sponsors to certain dojos, providing funds for more equipment and so forth. Raiden was content with his lifestyle, fighting against strong opponents, eating good food and followed by having some fun with a few girls depending on how much alcohol he drank that night.

Then sumo wrestlers began disappearing from the dojos, one by one. Their remains would be discovered the following morning, torn asunder and…half-eaten. The sight frightened the customers so much that they didn’t dare go outside unless they were absolutely certain that the matches would not last beyond the first rays of the sun setting across the hazy blue skies. Even the gods had begun to worry, believing there was a serial killer on the loose…if you can call withdrawing their sponsorships an expression of anxiety. The masters of the dojos even began restricting the fighters to a curfew, forbidding anyone from going out into the night lest they face expulsion.

But Raiden was tough. He had been the strongest sumo wrestler of his time. He could take care of himself. If someone wants to come after him, he’ll return the gesture wholeheartedly.

After an evening of drinking, he took his usual stroll back home when he heard someone call out to him. Confused and half inebriated, Raiden looked over his shoulder and saw a shivering, drooling, decrepit old man with a large lump on his head. At first he thought something was wrong with him…but that concern changed to alarm when the man split his body up into four younger versions of himself with fashionable robes, fangs, and possessed weapons. One of them even had wings and talons like an eagle!

One of them opened his mouth and released a loud screech with enough strength to make Raiden’s head spin and catapulted him into a building. As he stumbled to get out of the debris, the one wearing red robes thrusted his wooden staff into the ground, lightning bolts spitting from it. Raiden screamed, white-hot pain pulsing through his body.

“This is supposed to be the strongest one in this district? How lame!”

“Shut up and finish the job, Karaku! We cannot be seen or else they will come! We cannot go back to that place!”

“Come on, it’s been so long since we’ve played with our food~!”

For the first time in his life, Raiden felt fear. He did not know what these guys…this thing was, but he had to get away. He had to get away or he might die again.

“I’ll finish it. Do not worry, human, your death shall be quick and painless.”

Raiden’s eyes widened as the one dressed in blue charged towards him, wielding a halberd with an apathetic expression. Yet before the weapon could put a hole in his chest, it flew out of his bronze hands with a loud ‘crack’.

“Geez, of all the demons that had to be causing trouble in this place, it’s you guys again?!”

The sumo wrestler whipped his head towards the rooftops of the building, seeing a young woman with braided pink-greenish hair and dressed in black, [Eye Color] orbs narrowed and face pouting as she wielded….a whip? Behind her were two other individuals. A kid in a checkered haori…and a little girl with a piece of bamboo in her mouth?

He watched them leap into the air; the kid unsheathed his sword and went straight towards Red, the girl charged at the green-robed one he assumed was Karaku, and the woman targeted the blue one that was right in front of him.

Neither opponent was giving an inch in their fight, and Raiden had to admit that the kid and muzzled girl were doing remarkably well….yet it wasn’t their unusual sword style or hand-to-hand combat techniques that caught his interest. It was the woman who had torn off her opponent’s arm as soon as she flipped him over her shoulder, knocking him into the ground with a loud ‘crack’.

The blue-eyed demon opened his mouth to scream or release an attack like the yellow one, but she swung her whip across his neck, decapitating the bastard.

Wait, where is the yellow one? Hearing a loud screech, Raiden whipped his head up to the nighttime skies and saw the demon's mouth stretching. The wrestler watched in horror as sparks of electrified air were being collected into a whirling sphere. And the target of the attack was none other than the little lady.

Somehow, he’d been able to force his aching body to move from the debris and bolt towards her, pushing the lady as close to the ground as possible without crushing her, using himself as a shield to absorb most of the attack when it came at them.

The last thing he remembered were his ears feeling wet and the woman’s worried face and… she was saying something to him before he lost consciousness.

He didn’t know what it was, but he hoped it’d been a ‘thank you’. It’s not everyday he got to protect a damsel from a demon, even when she could stand on her own ground.

As Raiden slowly came too, feeling the familiar padding of his futon, he groaned deeply, unable to open his eyes. A headache throbbed painfully through his whole head, making him both dizzy and nauseous.

He couldn't remember the last time he had a hangover this bad as he was slowly able to open his eyes, wincing at the light peeking through his window. His other senses slowly came back to him as the throbbing in his head slowly dulled. Raiden shifted and instantly froze, feeling his whole body seemed to be on fire yet so heavy at the same time.

As the minutes ticked by, Raiden was slowly able to sit up, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head, but his movements were stiff, almost like he was restricted, looking down to see bandages all over his body. His mind drew a blank, not remembering getting hurt and like a switch was flipped at that word, hurt, what he could recall from the night before came rushing back to him, making him fall back against his futon as his headache returned full force.

Shit…what the hell even happened? All he remembered was having a good time and then the weird old man…

Raiden’s eyes widened. That’s right. The old man turned into four demons! And then there were those kids…and that woman. The woman with hair that looked like sakura mochi and had the strength of a bear.

Head spinning, heart pounding, his mouth stretched into a grin as the memories from last night came back in full force. He had a preference for the larger ladies, but he’s always been flexible~.

Rengoku had told you countless times that if you ever crossed paths with Hantengu in the Bifrost, never confront him alone. He nearly lost his life against the Upper Moon Demon at the Swordsman’s Village if it hadn’t been for Tanjiro, Muichiro, and Nezuko. In all honesty, he thought the demon would no longer exist once his head had been cut off. But he is still there, in the Bifrost, and he escaped through a tear in the barrier.

He tried to consume as many strong humans as possible to regain his strength, though his efforts drew in unnecessary attention and that’s how he got caught. Tanjiro was able to deliver the final blow to the main body, and everything else went well….although no one had anticipated the damage done to the sumo wrestling district.

Oh goodness, what was going to happen? You knew Tengen and Rengoku loved to go there and watch the matches, especially when Raiden Taeemon was participating, but now it’d take weeks to clean up the mess! Gah, you failed on your second official mission as the Love Hashira! One more strike, and the Master’s gonna be so mad he won’t let you be part of the Demon Slayer Corps anymore!!

You sighed heavily, trudging through the streets with a heavy heart as your crow flew high in the skies above. You had completed another shift in the Bifrost, followed by an investigation in regards to another possible demon sighting in the northern areas of Valhalla.

Although everyone had reassured you that no one was seriously injured that fateful night, it still bothered you tremendously. You had offered to donate the money made from selling honeycombs at the farmer’s market towards the reconstruction of the district, but the Master told you not to fret.

You did what you had to do, and minimized the casualties as much as possible. Rengoku has taught his apprentice very well. The compliment still made your face flush with happiness…though, to your embarrassment, not as much as when you brought that handsome fellow back to his dojo. Raiden Taeemon. You rescued Raiden Taeemon from a demon and treated him in his own room!

Oh, you were such an awful woman~!

Feeling your face redden in embarrassment, you slapped your cheeks together. Pull yourself together, [First Name]! There’s no need to reminisce about the past ‘cause it’ll make delicious food go sour in your mouth! And it’s time for lunch anyway, just think about what you’re gonna order and worry about everything else later unless there’s an urgent message from the Master!

Nodding to yourself, you quickened your pace and found a restaurant with the wisteria symbol stamped just beneath the sign. If a Demon Slayer needed a place to stay or to eat, the establishments that carried the Master’s symbol were trustworthy.

You could relax here without worrying about a demon or paying too much out of your pocket, although you secretly snuck in a hefty tip to the staff for working so hard to accommodate your…quirks. Yeah, quirks, let’s go with that!

Smiling brightly at the familiar faces of the employees, you greeted them enthusiastically and wished they had a good shift as you followed one of them towards the back of the restaurant. This place still catered to other customers, so you always reserved a room for yourself to enjoy your meal in privacy.

Being gawked at for having unusual hair or how much you ate on a daily basis brought back unpleasant memories.

You squealed joyfully at the lacquered oval-shaped table, covered with every single item on the menu plus their best-selling herbal tea! You thanked the staff member profusely for their hard work in the kitchen, promising to enjoy the meal to the fullest!

The employee - a kindly older man with four children and one grandchild - smiled serenely, saying it is the least he and his family can do for the people who saved them long ago, in life and death, from demons. If you need anything, just let him or someone else know.

Upon bowing to each other, he left, closing the door behind him. You wasted no time in giving your thanks to this lovely banquet and began eating to your hearts’ desire. But an hour later, however, a knock came at the door. It was the old man again, but he sounded…worried.

You blinked. Huh? You didn’t remember asking for thirds! You just did that ten minutes ago! Concerned, you allowed him to enter, immediately inquiring what was wrong, what could you do to help.

He swallowed. “That is….there is a man who insists on asking about the ‘cute little lady with hair like sakura mochi’. I told him I knew whom he was speaking about, but politely asked him to leave because you were not to be disturbed. But he is insistent on…sharing this room with you for lunch. What should I do, Lady Hashira?”

You frowned. It wasn’t too unusual to have some rowdy customers walk through these doors, but not to this extent. Perhaps…the person who is giving the owner such a difficult time is because the man has some information he would like to relay to the Demon Slayer Corps? It would make more sense to go directly to a Hashira than pass a message to a kakushi.

You nodded your head to the owner.

“It’s all right, let him come in. Whatever he wants to eat, please add it to my bill.”

The owner’s silver brows pinched beneath his hairline as he frowned. “As you wish, Lady Hashira.” He bowed and quickly left the room, closing the sliding paper door behind him.

Humming softly to yourself, you sat yourself back down in your seat. Some of the employees appeared from behind, quickly and quietly removing the empty plates and rushing back to the kitchens.You thanked each of them for your hard work, smiling softly as you began pouring tea into two earth-brown ceramic cups.

One for yourself, and one for your guest. In your humble opinion, there is no better beverage to have mid-meal than freshly brewed green tea.

Just as you finished pouring the tea into the second cup, the door opened again.

When you looked up to thank the owner for complying with your request, blood drained from your face and your heart somersaulted in your throat. Standing behind the quaking owner was a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a dark blue yukata and wooden sandals. White highlights stuck out of his dark brown hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. And he was grinning.

This is Raiden. Raiden Taeemon, the man you had saved from Hantengu and patched up his wounds like the lascivious criminal you were. Oh no, did he figure out what you’d done? Wait, did he even remember that night?! His breath smelled strongly of rice wine when you carried him back to his dojo! You thought for certain that he’d been too intoxicated to realize what happened!

“Hey, there.” He purred softly.

You swallowed. “H-Hello.” You said. “I hear that you wished to speak to me. May I inquire why?” You tried to keep your voice neutral and calm so as to not show that you were nervous. Your palms began to sweat as he took a seat at the table. Raiden beamed, his smile revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

��I wanted to thank you!”

But you did not hear him. You were still under the assumption he was angry as you quickly backed away from the sumo wrestler, your forehead and hands resting firmly on the wooden floor in the position of the dogeza.

“I’m so sorry!” You blubbered. “I’m sorry you got hurt! I wasn’t strong enough to handle the demon on my own and you got hurt trying to protect me!! And there was so much damage to the b-buildings! What if you can’t have matches?! What have I done?! I’ll pay for all the damages somehow, I swear it in my honor as the Love Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps!”

“W-Wait a sec, little lady -”

“But to make it even worse, I entered your home without your permission, and I even touched your body so I could patch you up! Oh, I should have done more! What was I even thinking about being a capable Hashira when Rengoku recommended me to the Master to take up the mantle! Now all the good vibes from lunch are gone!!”

You squeaked as you were suddenly lifted up from the ground, your face being gently cradled by calloused palms and being pulled towards Raiden’s face, chapped lips being pressed against your mouth. Raiden Taeemon was kissing you.

Heat immediately flooded into your cheeks yet you did not dare move, just staring at this man in disbelief. When he pulled away, he smiled at you, tilting his head to the side. “You okay now?”

Your immediate response had been knocking him back into an adjacent wall and turning away to hide your smiling, flushed face. To think you had your first kiss with a strong, handsome man! He did surprise you with a warm laugh, standing up and brushing the dust off of his yukata.

“Sorry about that! You were rambling and that was the only thing I could think of to calm you down!”

When you informed that he was in fact the first person to kiss you like that, he looked at you, completely stunned at your confession before grinning.

“You’re pulling my leg! There ain’t no way a woman as stunning as you hasn’t been kissed before!”

But you remained silent, unable to form any more words beyond the truth. You were never a very good liar. He then surprised you when he lowered his head to the floor, profusely apologizing for putting you in such an embarrassing position.

You quickly forgave him, saying that he did not know in the first place, and in fairness, you had believed that you would not see each other again after that fateful night. You did, however, emphasize that he did have to take responsibility for his actions.

He laughed warmly, jabbing his thumb against his chest. “I’ll do just that then! I’ll marry ya, if you’re willing to be with someone like me!”

You beamed. “Better yet, how about we have lunch together while we’re here? I did say that whatever my ‘guest’ would like to have would be paid by me! And the food here is absolutely delicious! You simply must try their spicy dishes and sweets, if you have a sweet tooth!”

The rest of the afternoon had been lovely, sharing dishes and sharing stories about each other. Not wanting to repeat your parents’ mistakes, you were upfront with Raiden about being a Hashira…as well as being the eldest daughter of the ocean god Poseidon. There were going to be risks if the two of you moved forward….including the possibility that you might not come back from a mission, or even a routine patrol in the Bifrost might get awry.

But to your surprise, Raiden wanted this. He wanted you, a woman who had once been told by a former suitor that only a wild animal could love someone with odd-colored hair and a big appetite.

He did not care if you were a human or a god; what mattered to him, more than strength and beauty, was honesty and kindness.

And you could not be any happier.

Bonus Content:

The last thread of Hades’ patience snapped when his little brother demanded to have [First Name] removed from the Demon Slayer Corps in his palace, after he’d just told Poseidon that she was doing well under Ubuyashiki’s watchful eye.

When he heard about his niece's promotion, Hades was obligated to tell Poseidon the truth about her whereabouts. Obviously he was not taking it very well.

However, Hades will not tolerate being disrespected in his own domain.

The lord of the underworld glared at the tyrant of the oceans. “She may be your daughter, but she is still the Love Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. You know damned well I cannot replace skilled soldiers at the flick of a wrist. It doesn’t work like that for this organization. I’m sorry, Poseidon…but you brought this outcome upon yourself. If [First Name] wishes to see you or talk to you, she will do so on her own terms. Do not push yourself into her life again, you’ll only make things worse.”

Hades admired his brother’s kingly qualities, he truly did…but when it came to matters about his eldest daughter, Poseidon was extremely overprotective of her. He could be…irrational.

It was a good thing he’d concealed the wedding invitation moments before Poseidon came here. The god of perfection would never allow his child to marry a human, even if he were the strongest sumo wrestler in history or treated [First Name] just as Hades treated his wife Persephone: with respect, love, and honor.

Poseidon could care less about Amphitrite. Reputation is all that mattered to him; and because he valued that so highly, the price had been paid with his daughter’s ‘disappearance’.

Too little, too late.

Taglist:

@potato-studez-hungryformore

@mallory-a-bond

@hansel-the-pierrot

@bre99-blog

@mortemorii

@myrisan-melodies

@nooneknows8976

@puffy-bangs

@onecantsimply

@nunezs-stuff

@praisethesuuun

@thatstrangesheep

@zodiacs-web

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@themoonisrising

Honorable mentions:

@deathmetalunicorn1

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #an idyllic novelist #record of ragnarok #ror x reader #snv x reader #fem reader #mitsuri!reader #snv #ror raiden #snv raiden #ror x you #snv x you #milestone event #raiden tameemon #raiden tameemon x reader

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gatitties · 8 months

Note

HEY! I really hope your requests for TokREv are open because I had an idea plagued in my mind since this morning!! It defiantly changes canon, takes places after Kisaki gets kicked out of Toman! What is reader is his older sisters (19-20) and she finds out about what he did and she's pissed! Like she has ties with yakuza so she is able to get info on where mikey and his friends are hanging out and she shows up, dragging hanma and Kisaki by their hair/ears and she looks really scary before she just forces the two on their knees infront of the Toman captains and forces the two to apologize before she herself apologies for her brothers behavior and she's really sincere about it and promises Mikey that they'll never here from Kisaki Tetta or Hanma again, bows then just leaves, still dragging the two trouble makers behind her. This can be crack or fluff or serious. Headcanon, fic, scenario. Its really up to you, I just want to see this idea play out please.

─Tokyo revengers x kisaki!reader

─Summary: You discover something you don't like about your little brother and decide he needs to apologize

─Warnings: none

Oh this was fun to write, a interesting idea!!

"Don't fuck with me…"

You massaged your temples after one of your friends had told you some information about small teenage gangs, having friends from the yakuza gave you the privilege of finding out about all the acts of vandalism that were about to happen or had happened, you always met with them to spill the tea on gang gossip.

And while you found some of the stories about teens fighting each other entertaining, you didn't fully support that behavior. Finding out that your little brother was involved in a group like that didn't please you very much. Even though you weren't the best sister in the world, you had to draw a line in his behavior for planning to destroy a group of friends. You didn't mind that he got into fights because you knew that he wasn't the typical one to throw punches, you knew that Hanma, his friend, would do it for him, but they would learn the lesson that violence wouldn't lead to anything good on their own.

But it was something different when you saw all the ins and outs that went into his main task, you weren't going through that, he wasn't going to go through that, trying to destroy people just out of contempt or trying to impress someone, in no way had you been taught those ethical values at home, your parents would be disappointed if they found out, you did him the favor of keeping that information to yourself, however, his actions were a hard blow to your morale.

Your friends talked to you a lot about fights, but also about respect, just like how they raised you, and a mistake comes hand in hand with an apology, whether it was sincere or not, depended on your brother, although it would be on your part.

That same day you entered the house, hearing the voices of both teenagers, a grimace on your face, still somewhat grumpy at their behavior, you didn't even knock on the door to ask if you could come in, you walked in with long strides, looking at the duo with a frown as Tetta looked back at you.

"What's up with knock the door and respect privacy?"

"What about having a minimum of values and not manipulating people?"

He looked away clicking his tongue, Hanma just smiled slyly, he even seemed amused by the situation because he couldn't give more than a damn about that whole Toman betrayal thing.

"You shouldn't care what I do or don't do with my life decisions, get out of my room."

You let out a sigh of surprise at the aggressiveness in his words, looking stunned as he even approached you to push you out of his room, a bad decision, when his hand touched your shoulder to push you, you put him in a headlock, holding his head.

"What the hell!? Hey, let me go!"

"I'll let you go when you apologize to that gang! What you have done is disrespectful and a stain on your morals."

He squirmed in your grip but you stopped him from letting go, although a laugh made him escape from your deadly hold, you turned your head slowly to see Hanma laughing heartily at your struggle, your eyes turned into burning flames, you used your dominant leg to kick the door shut while cracking the bones in your knuckles, they had pissed you now.

"Shit, did you have to laugh at a time like this? She's going to kill us."

Younger Kisaki muttered to his friend, his face paling at the sight of your completely serious expression, though Hanma didn't seem to take it seriously until he spent at least half an hour locked in the room with you. A few knocks on the door made you step back, you adjusted your clothes and hairstyle, smiling when you saw your mother open the door.

"Have I heard screams? everything is alright?"

"Perfectly, mom, we were just playing Uno, and you already know how wild the game is."

"Oh yeah, you two hate losing at Uno, anyway, don't you want something to snack on?"

You looked back, Tetta tried to say yes to get rid of you, knowing that your mother would kick you out of his room if he complained asking for privacy for himself, but you cut him off with just a look.

"Don't worry, I haven't spent time with my dear brother in a long time, I'll take him for ice cream!"

"Oh how nice, bonding time, then I'll leave you, be careful and have fun!"

When your mother left you looked back at the duo, they gulped at the sight of your mischievous smile. One of your friends had told you that just today Toman was having a meeting, so it was the perfect time to apologize, you dragged them both by the earlobe, letting their complaints be music to your ears.

Everyone tensed when they saw that both former members appeared, interrupting Mikey, who narrowed his eyes as he watched you drag them towards the first step of the stairs where he used to give his speeches, everyone remained silent, watching your next move.

"In the name of…" you pulled them down, making them kneel, you doing it with more grace and softness, still looking directly at Mikey " this two idiots, I apologize for all the problems caused, with all my heart, I promise that they will not bother you again, if so, I will take care of punishing them again."

You lowered your head, hearing a snort from your brother, you hit the back of their necks, hearing some murmurs that sounded like apologies on their part, although perhaps only Mikey and Draken could hear it since they were the closest. The two leaders of Toman looked at each other perplexed by the scene, they shared a smile, Mikey nodded towards you, ending the meeting.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

You nodded in the same way as farewell, still dragging your brother and his friend by the ears, once out of sight of all those teenagers ─who were surely laughing at the strange situation─ you let them go, your face softened slightly and you let out a breath you had been holding.

"I hope you two have learned your lesson… now, let's go get some ice cream."

"Ice cream won't solve the pain in my ear."

"No, but maybe you want me to keep stretching your ear until you can get a damn dilation."

You said under your breath, noticing how Hanma stood next to you, obediently, not knowing if it was because he didn't want to know anything more about your punishments or because of the ice cream, Tetta gave up easily, crossing his arms and mumbling here and there, but accepted the ice cream, after everything he had endured today, a refreshing snack wouldn't hurt, he needed to cool his mind to recalculate his plans and make sure you never found out again about the things he was planning.

#tokyo revengers #tr #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x fem reader #kisaki reader #fem reader #kisaki x platonic reader #platonic reader #hanma #hanma x reader #request #reader instert #x reader #sfw #toman #toman x reader #scenarios

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eddiemunsonbignaturals · 7 months

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just a pinch

summer ends way too fast; you and Eddie surprise each other.

includes smut, as in 18+ 6k words somehow lmao? most of it fluff best friends to lovers, and it gets a little gross in an arguably unsexy but very intimate way. you're not supposed to put anyone's mouth on your new piercing until at least two weeks out don't be dumb listen to your piercer

content: boob fondling, dry humping, jean nutting, some mild threats of violence, mentions of piercings but not piercing play to my understanding

reader is described as fat, dark skinned, and referred to gender neutrally, mostly (tough guy, man, angel, sweetheart).

comments (yes, even short ones,) reblogs all v much appreciated, take care :*

So, the heatwave had been a fake-out.

You had both expected more swim-days. Just a few more sweaty, sticky nights— sat too close and tangled together sharing a bowl of Moose Tracks by moonlight, in as little fabric as you could manage and with as much ice as one freezer bucket could hold.

But alas, the fall sneaks in one cloudy morning and makes you regret ever even thinking the word “winter.”

You’re shivering as you shock awake and roll clumsily to the nightstand. Reaching blind for the blaring landline, your hand cringes away from too-cold plastic, and you groan long and low in mourning— it's definitely over. While you were asleep, Summer had packed up her bag and ducked off in the dark before you could send her off properly. Goodbye, dog days.

Hello, caller. You know it’s Eddie before you pick up; he knows it's you before you speak.

“Can you believe this? Shit fuckin’ sucks,” he croaks, right off the bat and into the receiver.

“And blows—“ you sigh back, punching one satin-covered pillow and your headscarf off the bed. “We couldn’t even get, a like, temperate couple of days? It had to go straight to freeze-my-dick-off immediately?”

“ha! Please. The end is nigh, sweetheart. You know it better than I,” he almost sings. His sleepy lilt catches on the pet name, and that gravelly morning timbre gees up your morning wood like nothing else can. You kiss your teeth, honestly annoyed at how he affects you this early, and when Ed’s answering chuckle rumbles through your ears and down your jaw, it's like you can feel his breath through the phone.

God, he sounds good. You hum into a long sigh as he talks. It warms you, everywhere, hearing his voice first thing, and if your non-phone hand drags down your chest and reaches lower to rearrange the pillow between your legs, he doesn’t need to know.

You hear Eddie fidget, as he does, and he switches the phone to his other ear. Then, there’s the rattle of the earrings against plastic– a few chunky hoops he got at your suggestion, and one with your first initial that he definitely plucked off of your desk, though he had lazily denied it. You feel a smile fight its way to your face, suddenly giddy about him, about his call.

A snapshot of him talking himself awake is as clear in your head as the grey in the sky: a grumpy Munson, emerging from the mess of gifted homemade blankets and ancient, flat pillows. Just a pair of doe eyes, framed by a cluster of chocolate curls and a scowl. Picture-perfect.

You’ve been nursing this damn crush forever, and with the effort of punching it off the bed and out of sight with that headscarf, you’re long past exhaustion. But, in the safety of your chilly room, and with the comfort of his voice in your ear, maybe you’ve enough strength for now to entertain a butterfly, or ten.

You had worn his ring to bed— a little bat hugging your ring finger the way it had been hugging his before you’d snatched it off as payment for a dare gone unfulfilled–and you’re twirling it now, like some lovesick sap. You’re written all over each other, and you’ve been itching to do something about it. But, that’s not the issue right now.

Right now,

“I know, life is over, the globe is warming, there are only a few summers left, et cetera. We’ll still have fun.”

(the dare? you had challenged him to snatch some Hawkins PD pig or another’s goofy little ranger hat as he had passed the two of you on the street. Eddie had suggested maybe he couldn’t float past an arrest on boyish charm this deep into his twenties, and acquiesced without a word when you had held out your hand for his own.

You’d pretended not to notice the blush creeping up his neck; he had let you hold his hand a bit longer than necessary. It had been an even trade, as always.)

Across the line, Eddie’s still snickering at you, voice fathoms deep– all crackly– when he speaks again.

“Hold on to your dick, angel, I'm pretty sure there’s options. Like, uh, maybe clothes? Clothes usually work for me.”

“Don’t get cute! I'm fat, you clown, I sweat-- I don’t need clothes. And, I belong in the water, Munson. Its beyond fun, its—“

He cuts you off completely, ignores your scoff, and finishes for you.

“—fulfilling, healing, its what and where you were in every past life, the brain sludge is already building back up as we speak, and ‘I’ll die, I'll just about fuckin’ die, Munson,’ once it drops below 40, I know, stop bitching,” he laughs. His tone? Pure fond; your stomach somersaults.

You hear the smile widen when he goes on to remind you, “but I guess it's fall now. IE, your favourite.”

“Say ‘bitch’ to me again, I’ll shave your peanut head.”

He takes it back, giggling something about his favourite tough guy, but you know he’s got you there. You definitely are bitching, and—

Halloween month, cider season, big soft sweater weather, rain? It is the best, but it's never too early to argue.

“You’ll love it, angel.”

You give up, melting again at his affection verbalized. You’re humming assent as he keeps the ball rolling, asking what you’d like to do today instead of going for a swim. Come over and take turns reading the new discount novel he found? Start that mead recipe you made last year? Drive over to Stobin’s—see who can sneak in and scare the shit out of them first?

All great ideas, you assure him, but you decided long ago that the End of Swim also marked the beginning of piercing season. Your safety moratorium on body mods of all kinds has been lifted, now that you can’t dip your fresh wounds into scummy lake water.

You've been planning a particular pair for some time. You also decided that it would be a surprise. Your Eddie is observant, dialed in, and sure, maybe you like to play the odd game here and there. He notices you, and you notice right back. How long, do you think, will it take for him to note a new set of nipple piercings if you don’t warn him first? You figure it’s time to test it.

So, you break his heart a little, and decline to hang out today after all. You’ll see him on your next day off, you promise, and make plans for “four days hence, Munson, quit bitching. I just remembered something else I need to do,” before hanging up on his protests and pulling on your first pair of sweats in 4 months.

ID, water bottle, and a sweet breakfast in tow, you head for the best (note: only) tat shop you know, braced and ready for a world of pain, going boldly into the cold.

—---------

And there had been almost no pain, at first. You had yelped girlishly before the first needle went in, then felt embarrassed about how easy and quick it had been. Before you had even realized, it was over, and you grinned big at the unique beads framing each pert, dark nipple. You loved them. You loved the piercings, and more than ever, loved your tits. Couldn’t wait to go home and check them out from every angle, actually.

Then, a malicious towel snag, a careless door-jamb bump, and a hateful sweater-thread later, you were fearing for your life. Over the last few days, you had taken to crouching around them a bit, arms wrapped loose around your stomach as a reminder and for protection. Your nipples were insanely sensitive, now more than ever, and you had never understood ‘til now how often you simply walked through and into things instead of just around.

But, they were calming down, and with each prescribed saltwater soak you breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of visible irritation. The standard piercing boogers notwithstanding, they looked hot, you felt hot, but found yourself nervous for the big reveal. You thought you would hide them well, your mission made easier by the cool weather and baggier shirts it allowed.

You’re in his room now. Eddie’s ideas had been good, but you had both decided on the usual– you, rocking up to his trailer and spending the day with him throwing food and trading theories, hours whiled away in artistic pursuits and cat-naps, never too far from one another. It’s been a good day– you’re doing such a good job with the piercings, you forget to hide how entranced you are by Eddie's hands.

“Aren’t you hot?”

You count the veins and tendons as they flip pencils and drum against whatever surface they encounter, try to guess how long he can go before he bites that right pinky nail too short again, wonder if he’s running hot today. He’s tactile, your Eddie, but you’re sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, and yeah, a little too warm in the hoodie you came in as he lounges on the bed– too far for his idle touches to distract you into admitting anything.

You love those hands. You want to taste them one day. He’s looking at you.

Fuck, wait, he’s looking, and you haven’t answered him. You cut your eyes away, to the floor, to your nails, like an idiot. That wasn’t at all suspicious, sure. You’re reasonably sure Eddie hadn’t noticed the piercings themselves yet until, as you snack and he chats again about his sketch, he suddenly drops the pink eraser you’ve been watching his square fingers systematically tear apart.

“N...Noooooo.” He takes in your belated answer and eyes you for a second, then starts talking again. You tug your hands gingerly into the hoodie you’re in and slide the thing over your unwrapped cloud of hair without snagging anything, then toss it away, wiping the light sheen of sweat you realize is cooling on your nose.

Fuck, here we go. You hadn’t considered you’d have to hide in conversation, just that you had to keep him from seeing. You try to keep your cool, but answer too quickly. This wouldn’t last long.

“Have you been eating weird shit again?” Eddie asks, cutting himself off from explaining the lore of his latest campaign villain. He’s sitting up more since you last looked at him– leaning back on one elbow as the other arm drapes comfy across his belly– and watching you fidget in that weird posture you’ve adopted since the piercings.

“Eat– We–, me? Weird? What’s– What?” Nailed it. Smooth, like butter. Too player. You thank God or Dolly or whoever’s watching that your blush isn’t visible, because you can already feel your face heating up.

He stares, eyes squinted. You watch your plate, then look back at his lovely hands, fingers pale and impatient, thr-r-r-rumming in sequence against his now-closed notebook.

“What’s with the air-head act? And why are you clutching your tummy and moving like you fell down the stairs?” Okay, that one’s easy.

“Cramps.” Your reply is stiff, but reflexive. The pink in his fingertips as he drums is entrancing. Maybe you’ve saved it– you think you sound sure. He’s silent for beat, and you pick up a cracker and look out the window. Maybe you’re a genius. The fuck’s he gonna do? Argue?

“Hm. Bullshit?” You look up to challenge that, and catch him peering behind you to the stuffed possum you had gifted him when his favourite, real, live, wild possum friend stopped her brief shuffle through the fire pit behind his trailer one drizzly day.

(Eddie had called it the best week of his life, then declared that he’d never love again.)

After another beat, as if the scruffy thing has read the room and confirmed its answer, Eddie nods once, curls bouncing, then swings his neck dramatically back to you to assert, “bullshit.”

It's panic creeping up your throat now, because he’s going to see you, see them, this isn’t– well– it is– but you didn’t think it through, and you aren’t a good enough liar to dodge the impending question. You hem for another moment, hands hovering over your torso, and he looks between them and your face before snapping his bulk upright so fast that the bits of pink littering his lap and thin muscle shirt fly up in the flurry.

“What’re you hiding?”

A frown tugs your lips down before you can stop it. You watch Eddie toss the notebook and, with a loud thump, collapse off the bed boneless into your nest of blankets and towards you like a mad slinky before you can finish saying, “nothing! I’m not– hiding–, wait a second!”

In that second, Eddie has slithered the 4 feet between him and you, kind of flinging himself on top, landing more gently than you expected in a straddle and pinning your now-closed thighs under his seat before you can wiggle back and away in time.

“Did you get a tattoo without me? You fucking did, didn’t you?” He might be verging on genuinely hurt, by the sound of it. You’d promised after he’d started his stick-n-poke journey that he’d be your first, (tattooer, that is), once he got some training together. Had swore to him–

“Le’me see– what, is it that shitty? Who the hell did you go to? You can’t be–”

“Ow, Eddie, stop!” Your screeching protest belies real pain this time, curling in on yourself and to the side as much as possible. He bumped a piercing in the shuffle, the pain expected but still shocking, and he backs off a bit and coos in sympathy, all his next words coming out in a frantic rush.

“Fuck, oh no, I’m sorry. I’msosorry, Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, breathing deep through the stinging. As it subsides, he ducks his head to meet your eyeline, his paint-stained palms up, promising no contact. He’s still straddling you, most of his weight on his heels. Still locking you under him, where its very warm.

If you looked down and saw your heart itself beating its way out of your chest, you wouldn’t be shocked. You’re almost choking on it, and plotting how to get him off you without knocking the new piercings again. Its enough to spin your head, to think you’ve been found out this soon, that the bravado in your spirit has fled so quickly at the reality, not just the idea, the real life prospect of showing Munson your tits.

But it's thrilling, him on top of you. It's always thrilling, a dream fulfilling itself, isn't it? Even if the context is off. This isn't the first time a bout of “weird” from one of you or the other has ended up in a fact-finding mission– sometimes wrestling match, or pillow fight, or wild, short chase through the woods.

But every time he gets this close, it's like the path between your head brain to the other brain is cleared– heat is flooding the thin cotton that separates you from his well-worn denim faster than ever. He has to get up, right now. You have to keep him there forever.

You relax as the sting subsides, uncurling and groaning a bit as those strong, clever hands fall to bracket your head on either side. Eddie leans down, sounding the creak of floor beneath you, and scowls, bathing you in his radiating heat. Studying you, taking in your full lips pressed into a thin, nervous line, your brows turned up where they’d meet, betraying distress.

“What is going on in there, man?" He's really worried now. When did you start keeping secrets?

“It’s…not a tattoo?” You purse your lips and scrunch your nose, and the sweet smile that flows like syrup across his face seems involuntary.

“Then what else– huh?” Eddie is trying to keep eye contact, but the wheels are turning, and his lovely smile drops. He glances at your arms crossed over your chest, and his jaw falls open, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Not a tattoo. Not ‘a’ anything, actually. Two things.”

“No, you didn’t. No way, not a chance.” Eddie seizes your wrists and ignores your protests, pinning each arm by your ears where his once were, and tries to x-ray inspect you through your shirt. It's dark, but not thick enough to weather this kind of scrutiny. Those telltale bumps are right there in front of him, the middle of each trio hardening as he inspects. So, you give up trying to argue, and shrug, suppressing a smile.

“With— wha?” Eddie’s looney-tunes double-take makes you hoot a laugh as he swings his head and bouncy curls up and down, looking at you, glancing back at your chest, and up again as he processes what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing?

Your eyes stay low but your brows arch together as you scoff at him, dork. “You’re really telling me you hadn’t seen them?”

“I’ve– not–wha– I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But, you had been talking shit. He couldn’t have seen anything in the dark shirt you had been wearing all day unless he’d been staring when you weren’t looking– had he been staring at your tits anyway?

Did he do that often? Your jaw doesn’t drop so much as glide mischievously open. Surprise dawns and Eddie realizes he has, in fact, given himself away too quickly. Coolest dudes in Hawkins, you two.

He changes tack, slapping the floor by your head, still a little shocked.

“You got your nipples pierced? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you! You’re full of shit.” His voice is almost petulant in its disbelief, high and tinny.

Your eyeroll is audible, “I mean. I can prove it, Munson.”

“When?” He gasps, indignant, and slaps the floor with the other hand.

“You barely have your ears pierced-“ he exaggerates. “Who the hell did ‘em? Was it a guy? You let some guy–”

“Please, some professional? Can you be serious?”

“You can’t take the pain, angel, not without my moral support, there’s no way. You’d have been whining about them being sore all fuckin’ week if you’d gotten your—“

He looks at your tits again, jaw slack, but in his shifting sends them undulating with the movement. His whole body goes still, except to inhale very slowly.

You’ve maybe never been this self conscious in your life, but his distraction emboldens you.

“The idea was ‘surprise’, not ‘ambush’. But,” you drawl, smirking as you twist a wrist easily out of his now slack grip and push yourself up onto your elbows.

“Do you—well.” Your eyes falter when your voice does. You want to offer proof. You’re not that bold yet, but you’re working up to it.

He gives you room to sit up completely, hovering over your calves, back almost on his haunches. His heat leeches into your legs, swells in your chest and behind your eyes.

You want to touch him, like you always do. Eddie's deep brown eyes are wider, his mouth slack. His breathing is a little harder too, and you wonder for a second— do you want to un-ring this bell while there’s time?

“No,” he answers. “I mean, yeah, I—“ He rolls his plush lips into his mouth and then parts them, trying to work out how to ask. It’s not a dare anymore, and you feel a shyness completely unfamiliar, laid out in front of your best friend in the world.

You wilt a little; Eddie finds his courage.

He swallows, and you watch his throat work while he figures out what to say, maybe as nervous as you are.

“Can I see?” He sounds hopeful, gentle, but to soothe you or himself, you can’t tell.

You dont quite answer with, “I’ll have you know, they didn’t hurt. At all, actually. It was...cold. Uncomfy, totally, but not painful— just a bit of a pinch? The last week has been worse than the actual needles were.”

Eddie seems to realize he’s really staring, and cuts his eyes to the left, almost shy, and he seems to wipe sweat from his palms down the length of his strong thighs.

Your own hands pick at the hem of your shirt, and his gaze is split between your mouth and chest. Then, he shifts his weight, leans back like he’s about to give you space, when you reach for his warm, toned tricep, his skin shifting over muscle as he fidgets, and you’re ready to tell him the rest of the story. You can’t bear to miss his warmth on top of you, you realize. Now or never, you think.

“I…” you croak, “I thought of you.”

You hear him choke, like actually choke on his spit, then watch him shake his head like he’s rattling himself out of a haze. Eddie’s locked in on your eyes, searching for even the hint of a joke as you lift the shirt up just your stomach, exposing all the graceful cresting hills of your soft middle to his hungry gaze.

“When I picked them out, I mean.”

“Youf, you– fuc– You did this for me?” He sounds so absolutely incredulous, and breathless, all bravado bled out, or rushing to his reddening cheeks. It's like Eddie opened the next Discworld and found a dedication in his name, like the heavens have opened above him. For him? For him?

“Not for you, you clown, of course not. But like, maybe I wondered which ones you’d say I should get. And maybe... I thought you’d appreciate my pick.” Your crooked smile feels small, and you feel like offering something more substantial.

So, you do.

“Appreciate..? I. Oh, god, Jesus, I.” You had been lifting your shirt so casually as you spoke, palms sliding up across your skin and dragging cotton with them, a caress so careless it seemed incidental. But you avoid hitting the new bars through each hardening nip, chills putting a mild tremble in your hands that he first catches, and is then distracted from. You watch Eddie’s short-circuit for a bit, feel his thighs tense around yours. You decide then that boldness is the only path forward.

At the last rounding, you let them hem of the shirt catch on the underside of your bust, and just before its dangerous, lift them up by the hem and then drop them a bit, so they bounce for him, putting on a little show, posture straighter than before in presentation.

You’ve killed him. His plush lips try and fail to form a word, any word, as he lets out another shakey breath and leans back in to you by centimeters.

“Eddie?” you prompt at his silence, voice quieter now. He’s still a little wide-eyed when he gasps out,

“What. Appreciate? Fuck, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. Jesus Christ, I never thought— Are those bats?” He’s moon-eyed and gaping like a dry fish, and you’re too keyed up to even tease him about it. You didn't just think of him, you conspired to match with him, to carry a little bit of him with you.

You know he wants to see you, more than just the piercings, and that teasing smirk is a distant memory, much like your patience.

“So you hate them, huh?” He’s shocked into laughing before you can finish the question, restoring the quiet to something like normal as he raises his ringed hands to frame the low curve of your breasts. But he takes them in only with his eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“They look, so so good, so good, god. The color you picked, even,” a warm gold that picks up the warmth in the soft creamy brown of your skin, “it glows, like, perfect. Gold’s your color, Sweetheart. It's all your color.”

Bravado is fickle. You order him through barely parted lips, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, then almost slur the hasty backtrack, “touch them. If-you-want, I-mean, if-you—.”

In Eddie’s mind’s eye, gold falls from the sky; from his mouth tumbles a bewildered, “'If i want?' Are you insane?”

As he reaches, you nod and sit up a bit straighter, feel heat rise in your cheeks, and take his confession with a crooked smile.

“I dreamt this.”

Here’s you, insufferably coy through a giggle: “Yeah? How’d it go?”

His own knowing smirk is back, and you shiver, wanting fathoms deep as Eddie's hot hands envelope the heavy mounds of your breasts from below, cupped in the way he had threatened before you granted permission. Eddie seems to weigh them as he holds you, committing to memory how the plush fat of them sits in his palms, how they pebble across with gooseflesh at his very gentle fondling.

You’re so soft, and warm, and he’s touching you; his mind splits in two. Some of him prays to any god for escalation, the rest could die happy right here.

On contact, you sigh together. Heavy, whispering things— you were both holding your breath— and inhale together, too. Your eyes flutter closed at the the drag of each body-warm ring as they poke into you. His calluses are almost sharp against you where they glide, some of the time ghosting over your skin, but mostly kneading you warmer.

It's your soft little hum of pleasure, how you arch, helpless, into his touch— the indiscreet rub of your knees together, and your thighs into his seat, the way you fight the smile back— these bring him back to himself, and he checks your face again, watching the small smile grow as your eyes flick up to his.

“Different,” Eddie intones, low and slow. “We’re out of order.”

You’re watching his pretty mouth again while he feigns serious, but as he moves just one hand to the floor behind you and leans in close, warm Cheez-It-breath tickling your face, setting alight every nerve that wasn’t already screaming for deeper contact. You meet his penetrating gaze and gasp at the pleasure-pain of that ringed thumb finally, finally, swiping up along one pert nipple.

It's a shocked moan, not a gasp, that opens your mouth as he collides with it, timed perfectly with the upward jolt of your hips into his hardening cock. It's Eddie’s turn to gasp— his rushes out hot and quick, as if from a gut-punch.

He's fighting for his life trying to steady his voice, act casual. “Usually, I get my mouth on your first.”

With that, he closes the gap again, but this time pulls away with a wet smack, a kiss so brief you’re compelled to chase him and get your licks in.

“Then, my hands,” he says, as he closes his fingers around as much of you as he can grasp with each hand to squeeze. Its at once electrifying and comforting, leaning into him and running from the cold. You want him pressed against you completely, but he's focused on the pillows of supple skin and heat in his hands.

“Promise,” he chokes, “ahhh, promise to tell me if it hurts, angel?”

“Eddie, touch me— I promise— touch me,” you positively beg, and your Eddie, egged on by your fingers now pulling deliciously at the hair on his sensitive nape, recovers fast. He’s on you before he can take his next breath in, and bites down around your bottom lip, pushing you with him gently as he leans forward, mashing your noses together.

And you kiss Eddie back, hard, sucking his trembling lip between yours and earning yourself a groan that sends a lovely buzz through your jaw where you meet. That fucking noise, and his hand still on you, now not as gentle, sending little shocks of pleasure as he swipes gently along the outer dark ring crowning your nipple. The skin there is tightening, growing impossibly sensitive, and each brush and nudge shocks you between your clamped thighs, makes your body rock a little, sending kinetic energy across you that has him enthralled. So much evidence of his effect on you, the movement anchors him to reality.

"Good?"

"Really good, Eddie, yeah." You squirm under him as he massages one side, then both, then rests his forehead against yours to gaze down, intent on his project.

“You feel good too, angel,” Eddie groans again, enjoying himself in earnest, crowding you gently together, then letting each breast roll in his hands, rough digits brushing in tandem against beads so taut it almost hurts, so intense its almost too much, but you need more.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask him in a pant, breathless and focused– you need him between your legs too, and desperately, so you nudge one of his, asking to widen so you can rearrange. Eddie obliges, planting one solid knee right against your aching core and letting you fall back, propped up on both elbows.

Neither of you wastes a second. This kiss is a hot, wet collision of sighs and spit, grinding sloppily into each other through just too many layers of sweet, stiff friction, whining into each other’s open mouths.

While you nearly lift your hips off the floor, chasing the worn denim between your legs, tension in your lower gut building faster than it ever has alone, Eddie rides your linen-covered thigh just above your bent knee, murmuring between love-bites to your chin, the chubby apple of your grinning cheek, then the crook of your neck, where he finds and then latches onto a spot that makes you seize under his weight, clamping your thighs around the one at the very center of your focus.

You clasp a hand at the back of his head again, scratching a bit at his neck and forcing a long shaky sigh out of his mouth as the rhythm of his swirling hips grows rough, devolves into a stuttering staccatto race to the finish, and he’s talking himself through it into your shoulder as you barrel him down.

Ed's heaving whines are gorgeous, ragged, as he sighs into your neck about how good you feel under him. He can’t finish a sentence as he groans into your shoulder, all about how good you smell, how he can’t believe you did this for him, how badly he wants to taste them.

“Taste? I,” you cut yourself off with a near-panicked whine when his leg slinks heavily down, the relief of his wet but still straining crotch-tent another brief sliding kiss against your now soaking cunt, and you resist seizing him by the scalp, to keep him up with you, but only just. You’re both so close; he’s stalling?

No, tasting.

Through your horny fog, your mind starts to process his goal. Eddie works his body down yours urgently, never really breaking contact, and as he slips away all you can do is watch him watch you.

In a thrall, as he draws a scalding trail of open-mouth kisses down the heaving swell of your exposed breasts. The wet kisses cool fast in the chilly air of his room, and it feels so good you don’t care how needy your sighs sound, how obscene and high your breaths echo in your own ears. Then he pauses in his descent to admire you again, breaking eye contact for a few awe-struck moments, dropping a chaste peck just left of the left nip, then resting his forehead on your sternum. When he fully squishes your tits into his cheeks it makes you laugh out loud, and you feel his smile and then chuckle against your stomach.

He seems to paise there for a few moments, content to nuzzle, and your high whine-sigh takes even you off guard. Eddie looks up at the sound but stops himself saying whatevers on his mind. Instead, he double-takes between your mouth and chest once, and again, then and finally asks, “sweetheart?”

He’s got that look like he’s up to something, and you can’t say you mind it.

Eddie drags his lovely nose across the wide valley between your bust, your shoulders cave a bit with the shiver, and he continues, “can I?”

Taste. Yes, “please, Eddie, yeah,” and he closes his hot mouth over one hard bead, swirling that devilish tongue around and over, knocking it roughly enough to pull a harsh hiss from between your clamped teeth. Your hands are both in his hair again, and in a little pain you pull at his sensitive scalp and feel the buzz of his moaning around you, closing the little pleasure circuit between you.

You feel every wet swipe of tongue like a brand, on your sensitive chest and melting, shocks of heat driving down in your sex, chasing the pressure and pushing your body into his chest where he lays against you.

One of his hot hands mimics his mouth’s rhythm on the other tit, and the lewd sounds of his deep moans around you are only matched by the obscene slick of his hand finding the soaked core of you under his torso, his fingers tingling over the used cotton.

You nod assent before he can even ask, catching his eyes as he pulls away from your chest to check on you. He finds your open pant, you low lidded attention on only him, and smiles. Then, he grinds his own hips into your leg where he straddles it, lower than before, moaning again around your mound and sucking this time, a new kind of pressure that pulls the neediest cries from you yet. His fingers finally breach your underwear from the side, and the calloused contact jolts you to the precipice, climax just within reach now that your clit has direct, emphatic attention.

His tongue swirls faster, and Eddie matches that pace with his slick fingers between your cunt lips, circling the trigger and nudging just the top of your gasping hole, pace quickening, just what you're begging him for. Your free leg hitches around his back and pulls him into you, then you clamp up and pull hard at the hair in your grasp, gasping his name over and over as you come shaking, curling around his head, pussy drooling on his rings and wrist, hips frantic in their desperate chase for friction.

Eddie’s not far behind, rhythm incomprehensible as he’s distracted by his own big finish. He bites down almost too hard around your breast and fucks down onto your trapped leg, groans buzzing through you as he drools and sputters and comes a warm wet mess into the washed-out black.

The grey light is blinding, you can’t open your eyes at first. But you start to collect yourself when you feel him pull off, sliding his hand slowly out of your panties. You open your eyes to him watching you again, eyes half closed, to him catching his breath, and with no regard for the mess on his hand he gathers your collar in his fist and hauls you forward for another kiss, other hand tucked in the soft folds of your waist, grasping, clutching, pulling you in.

“Ouch.” You say, with no heat at all.

As he scoffs, Eddie slinks back down again to kiss it better, another gentle peck just to the side of the most sensitive bud of your breast where he sucked and nibbled hard enough to bruise. Just a pinch, indeed.

“Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” he promises, only a little sarcastic, and finally rounds his mouth around your right nipple, which he had neglected until now.

Then, you hear the slightest crunch. Like crumbs rubbing together.

Eddie smacks his lips a couple times, tasting, considering.

"Salty," he says. No way.

Oh, god, no. No fucking way. He still licking you clean but you freeze, then he does, but Eddie, knowing exactly what he just set you up for, loses it. He buries the cackle in your tummy as it dawns on you, and you do some quick math– you last showered this morning, which means you last soaked your piercing this morning, maybe 10 hours ago.

Eddie crawls back up your body as you wail, “ohhh, my God, Munson, why would you—? I cannot–” and lands eye-level, with you spent and boneless on your back, him in a table-top pose, arms propped by your shoulders.

He hadn't been neglecting your other side, he had been saving it.

10 hours. More than enough time for new “crusties” to form, so more than enough time to build your own nightmare from natural scratch. And he didn’t hesitate, or mention it at all, that your piercings were clearly crusted over as part of the usual healing process, he just sucked them off anyway like they were in the way.

“You– absolute– freak! Eddie what the fuck! Did you fucking eat it? Are you insane?”

“What? I helped! And it’s probably, like, I don’t know, nutritious somehow. Protein?” He shrugs, smirking in the face of your horror, your embarrassment. You hadn’t thought to look at your own tits when the idea of his eyes on you had been more than enough to deal with.

You punctuate every few words with sharp shoves, which barely register as nudges to him from your angle, still under him, fighting his weight and gravity itself. Little by little, he sinks against them, and you tire yourself out before his chest traps your arms between the two of you.

“You– sicko, I didn’t– give you permission– to snack on me.”

“You even said ‘please,’ sweet heart, no take backs. I believe they’re my boogers now.” His smile is just content now, mischief subsumed by all the love in his eyes. You were in his mouth; now you’re on your way through his system. He thinks its romantic.

He ate it. Like a weird pet left unattended too long, he saw something new and simply put his mouth on it. Your-- friend? hardly, you think-- Eddie Munson just ate the new piercing boogers off you, straight from the source as he came in his jeans. You don’t even know what to do, so bewildered you shove his shoulders and chest as rough as he’ll allow before he seizes your wrists and pins you again, only this time, your tits are still out.

“Without full knowledge, that’s twisted– you’re sick.” Your smile betrays you. What a weirdo, sure, but who else would full-send like that? You can’t think of anyone you’ve dated– anyone you’ve let touch you– that has ever been so close, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet.

God, what a freak– your freak, you think with a thrill.

“Yeah yeah, heard it before."

Its quiet for a bit as you stare at each other, smiles crooked and soft.

"Well. Cat’s out of the bag?”

“Seems that way.” So, there's your "what are we" convo' all sorted.

“Good. So you know— " Eddie ducks his head to tap his nose against yours, then pulls back again to hover a little closer than before, "clothes are no longer an option.”

“What. The hell are you saying.”

“I'm saying,” he whispers, suddenly against your ear, dragging out each syllable, and slides his thumb and it's cool bat ring now poking out of a soft fist across your collarbone and up your shoulder, just to see you shiver again, just to watch you shake.

“hu-.. what, Munson, spit it out!” Now, you grab him by both wrists, and the quick movement brings his eyes to your tits again, gold titanium winking in the gray light. The soft wave of your body warms his core. He's half-hard already just watching you move.

“Too late, ha.” You groan, still grossed out, and anticipating this, he groans with you, mocking. You feel it through your own chest, feel it down your pinned leg.

Then, Eddie’s voice is soft too, at once dreamy and deadly serious, when he says, “You,” drops a kiss on one shoulder, “were so, so right,” and another on the other, “you won't need clothes ever again.”

—--------------—

Its only days later, your next day off, when your favorite metalhead greets you at your front door. You don’t even have time to say hello before he’s flashing you; Eddie yanks his shirt up, fast as he can, to show off two glinting barbells, twin gold angel wings framing each nipple, still red and a little swollen from the piercing.

He beams at you, proud of the shock written all over your face, and before you can recover, cradles your face with one ringed hand and swoops in to plant one on your open mouth, grinning all the while.

#eddie munson x black reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #mine #every thirsty nasty stupid tag ive ever posted or texted my friends that got me kicked from the GC will become a fic one day cos like what #is the point of this otherwise #this has been edited a little cos the second i post i reread it again and find bits i meant ti switch around #eddie munson x plus size reader

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bimboothefool · 3 months

Note

*twiddles fingers and tucks hair behind my ears* Could we get some Yandere!Lilia and Yandere!Jamil fighting over MC and a battle of wits? Please and thank you! If you can't do so, then it's okay!

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕.

Sᴛᴏʀʏ Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs: Implications of violence, toxic rivalry, Jamil using Snake Whisper on you and mentions of blackmail.

Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s Lᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ: Oh you delightful vampy genius, yes you may! Hopefully it’ll be to your liking!!

- Jamil and Lilia have their reasons as to why they fell in love with you or rather why their obsession manifested the way it did, but details, details. Jamil feels like he isn’t looked down upon and wants your approval the most. Lilia finds you extremely entertaining and whenever you go, fun trouble will follow suit.

- So when the two vice housewardens/dorm leaders find out about eachother’s feelings for you, they know it’s on. The battle of wits is a seemingly harmless start, but can quickly become quite grizzly as time wears on.

- Jamil gets your routine down to a T, often making plans around that routine. Making sure to catch you at seemingly “random” time, just so you could spend time together.

- Lilia on the other hand simply finds ways to intervene, third wheeling or just run off with you. He plays dirty and doesn’t favor being fair.

- Jamil knew he wasn’t gonna start playing fair either, often using his unique magic on you to “persuade” you into spending more time around him. Often dangling you in front of Lilia, practically taunting him, saying if Lilia will sink low, then Jamil will go straight to the pits of the Underworld.

- Lilia isn’t furious about it in the slightest if anything he finds it utterly amusing, sure you may be a bit distressed at the idea your friends are fighting, but he reassured you. “Worry not Beastie, it’s all in good fun, right Jamil..?” Jamil glares back at him with a false smile. “Of course it is, don’t worry about it.”

- The two rivals for your affection are squarely focused on eachother, Jamil understands he’s going up against an old fae, but he’d be damned if he didn’t fight back. Lilia finds the idea of Jamil thinking he can defeat him profoundly entertaining.

- Regardless it’s gonna be a one hell of a fight that put the two to the test. Using unorthodox methods like blackmail, intimidation and whatever else they can use as fuel against eachother.

Tʜᴀɴᴋs Fᴏʀ Rᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!

Rᴇʙʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʜᴇʟᴘs ᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ, ᴀʟsᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ғɪᴄs ғᴏʀ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍs!

#the clown speaks #my writing #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil x reader #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia x reader

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crusty-chronicles · 7 months

Note

sorry if this is a bad time to request and feel free to put this off till whenever or even delete it if you're sick of airheaded stronk s/o asks

I was wondering, could you do short headcanons about how hiei and/or kurama with a stronk/airhead s/o would react to someone random or even a minor antagonist actively being rude their s/o while they're in earshot

[for a more specfic example maybe that eyeball at the gate of betrayal calls their attempted sacrifice foolish or the pretty boy purple guy from the dark tournment says smth like "it's a shame such a pretty face is wasted on such a brainless oaf" which has the added bonus(?) of sounding underhandedly flirtatious.]

again no pressure to write this quickly or at all. i just figured i'd throw it in your ask box incase it interested you at all.

Also entirley seperate question but would you be willing to cover roroanora zoro in your stronk/airhead s/o series?

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O DRABBLES: How they react to someone insulting their S/O

An: Of course I don't mind! Never be afraid to request things, it just might take me a little bit to get to them but really I enjoy doing them!

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

Kurama:

More than likely it would be a comment from Yomi or Kaito that would make him lose his cool. For this instance though, we'll go with the latter.

🦊🦊🦊🦊

It was a little after Botan got her soul stolen that Kaito decided to run his mouth. You having been kidnapped with Yusuke because where one went, the other followed. Much to Kurama's dismay.

"You've got me curious, playing house with a human I'd figure would be so far below you. Do you find them amusing? Maybe think of them as some sort of plaything? A way to keep yourself entertained?"

The taunt was an attempt to make the fox demon slip up. And it seemed to be working judging by his glare and increase in spirit energy.

"Did I strike a nerve? Don't tell me the great Yoko Kurama is actually infatuated with a human. And not a very bright one at that." There was a smirk on his face that only grew seeing Kurama manipulate the plants around him. Knowing he couldn't physically hurt him at the moment.

"You should have seen them. Getting all worked up over Urameshi being immobilized, only to fall for the exact same trap. It was almost too easy. Even when being told moving was useless, they still struggled. Yelling out curses and promises to...what was it? Oh yes, 'kick out asses' I believe. I never would have pegged you as the type to go after a stupid brute."

His cackling was soon disrupted by the sound of Kurama's voice. Speaking up at last with a tone so cruel, it temporarily frightened Kaito.

"You should hope I don't find a loophole around your no violence rule. Because if I do, you'll regret every last word." Eyes glowing an eerie golden.

When he finally bested the snarky human, he half thought to just crush his soul. No only because he put his friends in harm's way, but he also insulted you.

Insulted his relationship with you.

Buuuut, Kurama wasn't exactly allowed to end a human's life. And he refused to stoop that low anyways.

No, he'd just leave Kaito the way he was and focus instead on getting you and Yusuke back safely.

Overall he's petty about it, but not angry enough to lash out. He'll let it go for now....But if it happens again all bets are off.

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

Hiei:

For Hiei it is most definitely Shishi that gets to him. I feel like maze castle is a little too early for him to get mad at someone making fun of you. Maybe a comment of 'A foolish sacrifice and yet you're the one who's dead'. But if it's during the dark tournament on the other hand 👀👀👀

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Kuwabara had just gotten teleported to who knows where. Leaving you, Hiei, and Kurama left to fight. It was just your luck that the die landed on your name. The other once again on Shishi's.

"Oh great, another bumbling idiot. At least this one is easier on the eyes." The demon commented as you made your way onto the arena.

Already Hiei could feel his blood start to boil. Disliking the way Shishi seemed to look you up and down.

"Perhaps defeating you will boost my popularity. Just don't die so quickly. I want to be able to entertain my fans."

You were already getting tired of this guy yapping. And it didn't help that he made your best friend vanish into thin air.

"I wouldn't be so sure about you beating me."

But at your comment, he only grew angry and snapped.

"Are you delusional or just that stupid? You think I would let a mere human beat me? Especially one as klutzy as you."

You were not a fighter to be underestimated. Hiei knew that firsthand. Yet you continued to let that cretin berate you as you fought.

For some reason that made him furious. Wanting to both put him in his place and let you teach that bastard a lesson. He took a step forward. Already deciding that if you did indeed lose this fight, he'd be the one to beat that egotistical demon.

A firm grip on his wrist stopped him from taking another step forward.

"Refrain from doing anything foolish. I know you care for them, but you'd only be damaging their pride more by stepping in." Kurama scolded.

The words temporarily snapping Hiei out of his protective thoughts.

"Tch, I don't care for them."

Hiei is absolutely ready to throw hands on your behalf. Yes you're foolish, but you're his foolish human. The only one allowed to insult you is him.

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

MASTERLIST

#hiei x reader #kurama x reader #yu yu hakusho x reader #stupid s/o #stronk s/o #x reader #yu yu hakusho #yoko kurama #shuichi minamino #hiei jaganshi

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zyonsay · 7 months

Text

Wildfire, Chapter Two MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You almost scored a win, but Max wouldn't let that happen. The McLaren boys want to take your mind off of things!

Warnings: Swearing, Max is a bit of an asshole,Reader has anger issues, Slight Violence, Alcohol, Ki ki ki rah sweat sweat

Now playing: 'Monaco' by Bad Bunny

AN: This was a STRAIN! School is beating my ass recently and it's really difficult for me to get anything done BUT i really want to write this fic!

(Here is the previous chapter)

(Here is the next chapter)

The race season was in full swing, and you’d been doing well. Max had, as per usual, always taken the victory, but most of the time you were on the podium next to him. You were a great new asset to Red bull, and many of the fans seemed to like you. You started discovering more and more memes about you on Instagram and Twitter that would make you chuckle. (Or X? Man idk)

People saw you as a two-sided coin, since your charismatic, silly moments were accompanied by boiling, blood red rage when something messes up the race. Numerous fans compared you to Max when he first entered F1, calling you a “Smaller version of Mad Max.”

You guys’ interactions felt like witnessing two proud stags smash their antlers against each other. No full-on fights have ensued yet, but the tense feeling between you two can be felt by everyone from miles away. It was like the calm before a storm, electric energy surging through the air, waiting to strike when things get any more heated.

Your sassy, provocative nature could bring his blood to a boil easily, often causing him to glare at you from far away or leave some snarky remarks while passing by. This dynamic wasn’t optimal for Redbull, having two drivers who clash off the grid might also clash on the grid. As long as the situation wouldn’t get worse, they’d let you two entertain the fans bit more, but Christian kept a close eye on both you and Max.

Usually your bickering was harmless,

But today you could’ve strangled him right then and there in the paddock after the race. Luckily Horner got a hold of you and dragged you away, you felt like an angry dog being put on a chain outside the house by its owner.

What happened a few minutes before angered you deeply. Max profoundly refused to let you pass him, even if you had to brake to not crash into the rear end of his car. You could’ve had the first place if it weren’t for him blocking your way. Saying you were enraged was a pathetic understatement. You were steaming with rage and wanted to smash his head against a wall.

You, Lando and Oscar were strolling towards an Ice cream truck that Oscar had found on google maps. The race weekend was over but many of the drivers decided to stay a bit longer in the beautiful city. Tough it was extremely hot, which was the reason why Oscar and Lando wanted to go for Ice cream, what they didn’t tell you tough is that they wanted to distract you from your conflict with Max.

After paying for your Ice cream, you three made your way to a bench, sitting down and enjoying your refreshments. You chose pistachio ice cream, savoring the sweet, nutty taste. “Have y’all heard about the party tonight?” Lando glanced at the buildings nearby, enjoying the fancy exterior, thinking about snapping a pic for his .jpg account. “I mean, we all know that there will be one, but I didn’t catch any specifics.” Lando now looked at you and Oscar. “Danny told me about it, it’s in the grand Casino at eleven O’ Clock. I really want to go, but I wanted to drag you both with me. Are y’all coming?” He mustered up his best puppy eyes and began pouting. A hearty laugh escaped you, almost causing you to drop your ice cream. “Sure dude! I can’t wait to have some fun.” Oscar grinned, agreeing with what you said. You guys spent some more time shopping and checking out some must-see sights of the city. Lando bought Oscar a little Koala plushie with sunglasses calling it "Oscahs Doppelgänger.” You really liked hanging out with the two McLaren boys, spending time with them meant lots of joking and messing around.

“Hurry the fuck up Y/N, its almost eleven!” Landos voice rang over his obnoxious banging on the door. You rolled your eyes and checked your outfit one more time in the mirror before heading out. You were greeted with a friendly smile from Oscar and Lando who looks like he’ll bounce around the walls like a gummy ball. He could’ve well exploded on the spot with excitement. He and Piastri were both a tiny bit older than you, but Lando was still a kid at heart.

Lando, Oscar and you walked through the city, heading straight for the big, fancy Casino. Even from far away you spotted a familiar, smiley face. “Oi! Danny!” You waved at him, gaining his attention. He was smiling broadly as usual, walking up to your little group. “Hey guys! Looks like Lando managed to drag you along, eh?” He was obviously wearing one of his flash banging party shirts, it wouldn’t be Daniel Ricciardo if he wasn’t wearing something obnoxious, right?

The four of you chitchatted for a while, when Oscar asked: “Were you waiting for someone?” Daniel looked down at his wristwatch; it was already five past eleven. “I was actually. Me and Max wanted to meet up at eleven. Don’t know where he is, maybe he already went inside.” He shrugged, glancing you way as he noticed you tensing up at the sound of the Dutchman’s name. You definitely haven’t forgotten the race earlier that day. The guys stayed quiet for a few moments as the chilly night air blew around your legs, contrasting with the warm weather during the day. Lando was the first to break the silence. “Can we finally go in?”

Once you entered the gigantic building, colorful lights and the smell of overly expensive alcohol flooded your senses. A few familiar faces were dancing, drinking, and laughing, but there were also many you didn’t know. Daniel led the group towards the bar, buying you all a round of shots. “Gotta start the night the right way!”, he laughed before downing the burning liquid. The vodka fueled the sparks in your guts and turned them into a fire. You were going to have fun tonight.

Suddenly a loud voice appeared behind you. “Hey Danny!” You froze for a second before turning around and facing the man you’ve been wanting to murder since this morning. “Oi, Max! Thought I’d never see you!” Daniel abandoned the bar stool to pat Max on the back. Oscar, who was sitting next to you, turned in your direction and whispered. “We don’t have to hang around with him. Let’s just leave- “, you interrupted him, “No. Its ok.” You were too busy glaring at Max to notice Oscars worried expression, not that he thought you’d attack Verstappen out of nowhere, but he was concerned that a teasing comment from Max was enough for you to snap. As he later would find out, it was.

Max didn’t pay any attention to you, obviously not feeling as irritated as you were. The casino was warm from the sheer number of people inside, the loud music mixed with laughing and chatting. Daniel was going on about some experience he had the day before while exploring the city. You were halfheartedly listening to your friends rambling while you were observing your friends’ mimics. Your eyes landed on your fellow Redbull driver. He was listening carefully, asking a question every now and then. He then glanced at you quickly, catching you looking at him. Max then quickly looked away again.

After a while, Lando pulled you away from the bar and towards the dance floor. He was definitely drunk by now and was all giggly and happy. “C’monnnn, dance with me!”, Lando slurred.

It must’ve already been a few hours since you arrived at the Casino, but time flew by so fast. Oscar stated that he was getting tired and wanted to go home in the next hour or so, while Lando was as lively as ever and could go the whole night. You agreed with Oscar though, since you were tired and had an appointed Press conference for tomorrow. Daniel and Max wanted to stay a little longer but agreed to accompany you outside to say goodbye. Once outside, a cold shiver ran down your spine. The city was illuminated by bright lights and a howling wind was brushing through its streets. Daniel stopped, facing the rest of the group.

“We definitely gotta go out together more often!” Lando nodded enthusiastically, glancing your way as if inviting you to go out with him more often.

“Yeah, once Y/N doesn’t hold a grudge against me, I saw those glares.” Max laughed, but you couldn’t help but judgingly glance at him. His face was red and his posture a bit wobbly.

“You’re the one complaining about me during Interviews.” The venom in your voice was very apparent, you made no effort to hide your disdain. Max looked hesitant for a second before his expression hardened. Daniel seemed to feel awkward, not exactly knowing how to deal with you two firecrackers. Max focused his eyes on your face, not wincing under your glare. “And you were the one crying around about me winning this morning?”, he laughed again, seeking eye contact with the others as if to justify his words. The McLarens Aussie next to you looked deeply worried, as If he already suspected what happened next.

The blood in your veins began boiling, you could literally feel it. A heavy push from your side caused Max to stumble back. “Don’t fucking go there you dick. You just couldn’t handle me winning, right?” Your fellow Redbull driver was now shaken awake, glaring at you with a bitter look on his face. “Don’t get mad at me because you lost, fucking Dickhead.”

You were SO ready to ruin his stupid face with a good punch.

…but before you could actually get violent a certain Honey badger stepped in. “Lads, calm your tits! I think it’s best if we all go to our hotel rooms now.” Oscar was holding you back, worrying what would happen if he’d let go of the raging man in his arms. The other McLaren boy was standing next to you guys, unsure what to do. Daniel gave Max a heavy pat on the shoulder and gave him a serious look. “Let’s go get some sleep, buddy.” Max’s eyes never left yours, like a hunter stalking its prey.

But you won’t budge under him.

#male reader #gay #f1 x male reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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gojos-thot-patrol · 9 months

Note

Ryomen Sukuna, funny, “Oh, fuck, you’re a demon, aren’t you?!”

I like to think that Sukuna hates being called a demon on principal, so I quite enjoy this one lmao. this one is pretty cannon divergent as it, straight up breaks the rules of curses in jjk but...eh, I'm here for fun lmaoo.

Now Presenting...

starring: Ryomen Sukuna, who is Not A Demon, I'm telling you!!!

You weren’t sure of a lot of things in this world. You weren’t sure about what you wanted from life, or where it would take you. You weren't sure if you were reaching your full potential to find your true purpose, or if you even had one. You really weren’t sure how to do your taxes. But you were absolutely positive about one thing: Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t human. Probably. You didn’t really have any strong evidence to prove your theory, and you didn’t really know the details of what he would be if not human. But, it really did not make any sense for him to be human.

Those were the thoughts going through your head as you sipped your drink and watched him. This fight was going a little too easy for him. You would think that a four on one fight would go in favor of the four, but not with Ryomen. When Brad (at least he looked like a Brad) bumped into you, Sukuna was eager to fight. When Brad called the Kyles (at least they all looked like Kyles) to his side, Sukuna was down right giddy. Now, it had been awhile since you last checked, but as far as you knew, most mortal beings weren’t absolutely stoked to be outnumbered in a fight.

You watched from a safe distance as an audience formed around the fight, the back yard of this house party turning into a no rules MMA match. You saw how his arms flexed as he slammed one of the Kyles head into Brads, the blood shooting out of the victims noses from the impact. You noticed he was holding back. He was making sure no one saw him turn their skulls into cherry pie filling, least the cops get called. But what mortal man had the strength to smash someones head into red mist with their bare hands?

Brad collapsed to his knees after the attack, and with the pack leader down the other Kyles had no direction. Wanting to keep their blood firmly in their bodies, they scattered, like roaches when the kitchen light comes on. Only there was only two of them left, so it was fairly easy for Ryomen to grab one of the men and throw him into the other. The group of drunkards cheered at the brutal display of violence, but you couldn't help but wonder how he had moved to grab them that fast. Almost as if he had super speed.

Once the job was clearly done, he jogged over to you, laughing with other party goers as they congratulated him on a job well done. “Hey, we gotta go,” He said, wrapping his arm around you while you finished your drink, “One of those assholes are for sure going to call their daddy to have em sue.” He joked. You nodded, throwing your cup into one of the outdoor trashcans. This wasn’t your scene anyway, you greatly preferred concerts- like the ones you actually met Ryomen at. But you came to these parties for him, and he came to them for the promise of violence that came with them. Or, maybe violence just followed Sukuna around. Either way.

“Yea, this place smells like piss and cheetos,” You said as you followed him out, “Kinda what I’d imagine a Call of Duty lobby would smell like in real life.”

“Makes sense, I’ve heard like four people talk about the “party ratio,” this place is full of incels.” He agreed.

“Why did we come here again?” You questioned as the two of you walked out of the house.

“Free booze and free entertainment.” He grinned. The two of you walked to your car, but he got in the drivers seat. Which, yea fair, you were pretty slozzled at this point. You got in the front and handed him your keys. The two of you drove around with the windows down for awhile, no doubt to try and sober you up. It was quiet, but not awkwardly so. Don’t Fear the Reaper played softly on the radio, and you felt a strange peace.

You looked at Ryomen, hair blowing in the wind while he smoked out of the window, singing along softly to the old song. There was something so strangely beautiful about him. His sharp face tattoos accentuating his sharp features, his muscular form highlighted gorgeously by moonlight. His (you’d like it noted for the record: supernaturally) red eyes looked almost gentle in the dim light. He looked at you and flashed you a breathtakingly sharp grin.

“What?” He asked with a giggle too soft to come from him. He had almost a weird..glamor to him. Something that you had only read about in cheesy early 2000s paranormal romance novels. You know the ones, derivative Twilight knock offs focusing on shapeshifters and demi-gods, angels and-

Oh Motherfucker!

“Oh, fuck You’re a demon, aren’t you?!” You accused, sitting straighter in your seat. It wiped the grin off his face only to very quickly replace it with a look of confusion.

“What?” He asked, this time with less playful mirth and more genuine confusion, and maybe a little bit of offense for a little bit of spite.

“You’re a demon!” You yelled again, “You’re super fast, super strong, super hot-”

“Thanks.” He interrupted,

“You’re a demon!” You shouted louder this time.

“I’m not a demon Y/n.” He scoffed taking a drag from his cigarette, “Demons follow a judeo-christian definition of religion, which is not real,” he rolled his eyes, “The concept of angels and demons, heaven and hell, it’s about as real as the concept of the easter bunny or inflation. It’s something entirely made up by humans for humans to make their lives harder and have an excuse to feel better than other humans. It’s not actually A thing.”

“Then what are you?!” You demanded, “You keep calling us humans, implying you’re not, so what are you!”

“I’m a curse.” He said it as if it was obvious, like he thought you knew. It kinda stunned you. You didn't expect to get a confession that easy. “I’m the King of Curses to be specific.” Ok, the pride and smugness he said that with definitely implied it should mean something to you. It didn’t.

“Is that like, being the lord of the flies?” You asked.

“No, I’m not a fucking demon!” He growled in frustration, “Those aren’t real, I’m a curse!”

“Well then, what’s a curse?”

“A curse is a spiritual being that’s essentially made entirely out of negative emotions. Fear, loss, loneliness, anger, all of it comes together to make us.” He explained quickly, as if it was all common sense.

“....So a demon?” You clarified. He hit his head on the steering wheel, one quick hit, before regaining his composure.

“No, not a demon.”

“It sounds like a demon.”

“Well it’s not!”

“Well whats the difference?”

“I’m real!” He snapped, finishing his cigarette and throwing it out the window. Which, fucking ick, that's littering.

“I don’t know man, that's kind of a weak difference,” You pointed out, “That's like saying that cake isn’t real because I made a sweet, fluffy, chocolate flavored bread covered with icing. Like, you can call it bread all you want, it’s still cake.” You argued, trying to point out the flaws in his argument.

“Cake is fundamentally different from bread, Y/n” He laughed to keep from crashing the car. Why did he keep you around again?

“Then what is the fundamental difference between demons and curses?! And don’t say religion, demons are found in countless religions and mythologies, Oni’s have been around way longer than christianity!” You demanded, pointing a finger at him with wide eyes so he knew you were serious.

“The fundamental difference is…it’s-” Oh shit, he was actually struggling to find a solid answer. “It’s different okay!”

“Aww, baby, do you not want to admit you’re a demon?” You cooed, leaning in and pursing your lips at him in mock pity. He white knuckle gripped your steering wheel and refused to look at you.

“Talk to me in that tone of voice again and I’ll show you what a demon is.” He warned, low and dark. It sent a chill down your spine, sending your inner prey animal into an anxious tizzy. That deep primordial panic couldn’t distract you from the fact you won though.

“Ha! So you admit it! You are a demon!” You laughed.

“I didn’t admit anything!” He snapped.

“Yes you did, yes you did! How are you going to show me a demon if you’re not one, checkmate Atheist!” You sang between fits of giggles.

“You are the one person in the world that would keep fighting me after I threaten them, do you know that?” He sighed, shaking his head. He remembered why he kept you around. You were the only person left with the balls to challenge him.

“So you admit you’re a demon?” You asked, wanting the gold metal. He groaned.

“Yes! Fine! Sure! Whatever! In your incredibly small human experience and definitions, I suppose I could be considered something akin to a demon, I fucking guess! Are you happy now?! Is this what you want?!” He yelled. You grinned and nodded.

“Yea, that’s all I wanted. We can drop it now.” You shrugged, relaxing into your seat again.

“Thank you, Jesus fuck,” Sukuna grumbled, using the opportunity of a stop sign to light another cigarette before driving again. There was a tense quite that fell over the car. For all of 2 minuets before you broke it.

“Can we go to What-a-burger?” You asked.

“Oh yea, I’m already on the way there.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #demon!sukuna #demon sukuna #demon sukuna x reader #nobody likes you when you're 23

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. “Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

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