#free him from that horrid world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mo0nfairy · 10 months ago

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART SIX !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 12.3k.

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, gender neutral reader, smut (not involving reader), murder, death, violence/gore, suic1dal tendencies, suic1de attempt, alcoholism, weaponry, panic attacks, ptsd, hallucinations, & sleep paralysis.

leon kennedy's yandere traits are . . .

clingy, heroic, & territorial

──── Leon Kennedy hates sunlight in his eyes. Yet still, he finds himself basking in the warm rays.

When the sun hits the window just right, ensnaring the room in its golden hues, he bathes in its light the same way he'd lay in a hot bath. The lulling warmth melts his muscles and eases his body. After he falls asleep in the office after another unsuccessful investigation, your sunset is there for him. When he passes out after a drunken night at the bar, your sunrise is there for him. You're looking down at him always, embracing him in splotches of sunlight.

For a while, Leon thought he knew what it meant to be alive. To touch the hands of guttural pain; to feel the jagged juts of his past nestle against him. But, after that horrid night six years ago, after the exposure to sunshine he did not know existed, he truly touched the scorching surface of rock bottom.

And it is killing him. All because of a singular person.

Y/N L/N. The name he will never forget.

Leon remembers your exuberant eyes, your adorable mannerisms, the glimmer of your smile; he will never forget how you sparked the beginning of his life in Raccoon City.

He remembers the orange lights had swayed in his vision. How everything was stuck in a blistering sea of vertigo. Listening to the fire crackle and creatures groan, Leon coughs from the tickle caught in his throat. There is a weight pressed to his chest, something akin to a cushion. White. Artificial fabrics, a plastic touch. An airbag, maybe?

September 28th of 1998. The memories all return to him like a violent supercut. The yell of his name, the squeal of the brakes, the collision afterward. His precious Jeep Wrangler had now been flipped upside down and he was now caught in the savagery of the aftermath. The blood rushing to his head has the world swirling around him, lulling him into another state of unconsciousness. Leon touches the passenger seat with his red hands, terror ensnaring him upon realizing the seat was empty.

Something blurry in his trail of vision grips his attention. Through the shattered window, a figure stumbles through the brume of the flickering streetlights. Blue glares frame the dirt-stained "R.P.D" sign and the figure hastens towards its doors.

A whimper of your name is stuck on his tongue, as words get trapped in his congested throat. Don't leave me. In Leon's efforts to escape, his foot gets caught on the gear shift. He pulls with all his might, despite the twists and strains his ankle endures. Y/N, please don't. Shards of glass fall from his hair as he wrestles his way out. A few pieces manage to leave shallow nicks against his flesh. Come back to me.

Leon then plummets to the wet pavement, finally free of his demolished car. Frivolous debris and fresh corpses litter his path. His newly-purchased white sneakers (which he bought solely to show off to you) are splattered in the disgusting matter. Stumbling, he is able to persevere through all of this and he quickly trudges through the wreckage.

Leon barrels through the doors of the R.P.D. and surges through the police department. Bullets pierce through the skulls of pedestrians and coworkers roaming the building. Blood paints his body like rainfall. All while he is searching for the face that will end the torment reigning havoc through his mind.

The holding cells are inspected thoroughly while Leon's disposition is one of acute desperation. The adjacent areas are consumed with infected prisoners, all of which he promptly executes. Much to his dismay, however, the rookie does not find you sitting at a bench or clinging to the rusted bars. It is all empty, leading him to become more frantic in his search for you.

Something navy blue then captures his attention. Left on the floor of a cell is a name tag. Something small and wet with blood.

Leon takes the object into his fingers. His heart wrenches when he reads the name stamped on the plastic. The familiar "Mizoil Gas Station" is printed above "Y/N L/N".

A gasp fills the empty silence. Y/N... Where did you go? Why did you leave me?

"Hey.”

He jerks around to the intruding voice.

"Who is that?"

"Stay sharp."

Behind him is a rotting face with dead, paper-white eyes staring right through him. The zombie towers over him, growling for a bite. Leon yanks Matilda from his holster. The action is swift. Adept. Exactly the way he was trained. The echo of a gunshot permeates through the large expanse and fuses with the squelching sounds of brain matter oozing from the zombies' open skull. The corpse falls to the grimy floors with a thud and once more, silence returns.

The click of stiletto heels treads closer to Leon. On the threshold of the prison cell, a woman walks into his train of vision.

Ada Wong.

Finally, a human! Leon thinks to himself. He is quick to take advantage of the company of a normal, uninfected person. The pestering questions he has all tumble out out his mouth like an avalanche of blabbering nonsense.

"Please, you have to help me! I-I'm looking for someone!"

Her lack of articulation urges Leon to continue.

"My name is Leon Kennedy."

He takes a breath before continuing.

"The person I'm looking for- they, um- they're about... this tall." He holds his flat hand up to demonstrate your height. "Their eyes are Y/E/C. Well, maybe not like an exact shade of Y/E/C. It's more like a softer, prettier-"

She scoffs, cutting him off from his incessant rambling. Turning her heel, Ada begins to walk away from the pathetic mess she stumbled upon.

"Wait! Their name is Y/N!”

The woman halts.

“Y/N L/N! Please, you have to help me find them!"

Body tense, her eyes peer at him through the dark barrier of her sunglasses. Her arms weaken, once sternly folded over her beige trench coat.

"They're my partner... Please..."

Ada's lips part. From them, a sharp inhale.

Leon begs her with desperate worry, encompassed in a vehement frame of mind. His plead is spoken with such clarity, Ada can only assume it as truth. And the prospect of you belonging to someone else cuts like a dull knife. It is gross, it is nauseating. Unnatural. Like worms slithering around in her stomach, trying to escape the heart-shattering effect this information has on her.

Then, there is the anger. The betrayal is like a song too loud, the resentment like sheer alcohol on her tongue. Everything manifests into a spirit so overwhelming that Ada cannot find air to breathe. This blanket of rage stirs with her sorrow like two conflicting chemicals. The reaction sparks something iniquitous.

So, in turn, she does what she does best.

Lie.

"Y/N is dead."

A silence settles in the room.

Leon stares. That is all he does.

He stares at Ada and tries to scrutinize her to find some other truth. Anything other than this.

"Ambushed. No possible way of getting them out of that mess..."

Ada speaks with defective emotion. The words land mercilessly and hit with ruthless force.

A harsh ringing noise permeates around Leon. He covers his ears, blunt nails digging into his scalp. He shakes his head no, as though he merely disagrees with fact. It's not true. It can't be! Losing grasp on the only good thing in his life is something he will not accept. He refuses to.

You are his sun. What is existence without its warmth? What will happen to Earth without its necessity?

How can he possibly survive without you?

Ada rolls her eyes at the dramatic scene now playing out at her hand. She ignores her own hypocrisy, of course. If she had learned of your demise, only God knows what blood-curdling reaction she would have. When it comes to Leon, however, every blink of his eye and twitch of his muscle has her riddled with irritation. Does he not know how lucky he is? Ada would endure any pain if she knew she had the comfort of calling you her lover. It is a dream she would kill to make reality.

Leon soon collapses to the floor. A shot of pain courses through his knees from landing harshly on the cement. His hand clutches over his heart, absolutely gutted by the torment forced upon the organ.

Ada then leaves this lie where she puts it down. She struts out of the prison cell, thus continuing her search for wherever in Raccoon City you may be.

You do not need a boyfriend. Especially one as pathetic as Leon Kennedy.

The man in question has been rendered into a puddle of blubbering nonsense. Questions still fill the silent air. How, when, why? Why did it have to be you? The one person on this disgusting planet who did not deserve it. Why couldn't you have just stayed with him and let him devote his life to protecting the precious gem of your life? Why? Why? Why?

Leon has already lost so much, you were the very last thing keeping him afloat. You are his life preserver in the middle of the ocean. He has now succumbed to the thrashing waves, as he was always destined to be swallowed by the sea. Saltwater permeates his lungs and his limp body sways with the lulling current. As though this is what his life was always meant to be: crawling after happiness just to have it yanked away when he gets too close. In the end, his sugar-sweet delusions will always sink down to the ocean floor.

Tears do not escape Leon, no matter the weight of the pain. He does not care for anything but you. Now that you have left him, nothing else matters. Therefore, no emotion can be elicited from him anymore. He has been touched so violently by this intensity, it eradicated any surviving nerves.

His handgun had been left on the ground, a few feet away from him. Assumably falling from his grasp after his knees gave out. He takes the weapon and it shivers in his trembling grasp. It's blurry in his gaze, as his entire vision is overwhelmed with stupor. Should he? God knows he wants to. What is there left to experience in life without you there with him?

As he guides the barrel of his gun to his temple, the static ringing in his ears accelerates in volume. Somehow, though, Leon does not feel fear. He does not feel anything. No dread, no despair — just sheer, hollow nothingness. It infuses his entire body like a roaming virus, ensuring it does not leave any traceable fragments of emotion.

A quivering finger hovers over the trigger. One pull and he will be free.

Leon presses his finger down.

Click.

Nothing.

Click. Click. Click.

Nothing happens.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

"FUCK!"

Leon chucks the gun to the ground. His yell comes out guttural, a touch away from being a growl.

The clatter of Matilda's impact is not enough to appease him, as this swamped nothingness is more than he can endure. In a fit of defeat, Leon balls his fists and punches the cement floor. Agony surges through his entire hand and blood smudges his knuckles. The sound of his bones cracking still does not satisfy him in the slightest. Nothing can aid him now. Absolutely nothing.

With heavy legs, Leon stands to his feet. He holds his broken fist close to his chest and limps out of the empty prison cell. As he meanders through the station, he finds a set of car keys to a police cruiser on the corpse of his former co-worker. Despite claiming the title of "hero" when he first earned his badge, he does not intend to help anyone tonight. He couldn't save the only thing he ever loved, what kind of hero fails to do that?

The screaming of pedestrians and desperate pleas for help fall on deaf ears. The vehicle's engine rumbles and Leon's dead eyes stare at the road ahead. He leaves Raccoon City forever in his dust.

Six years have passed since the night you were taken from him. Leon wants to die, that much is for certain. The only thing preventing him from giving in is the fact that people need him. They all fail to see that he needs you, as he always will. Besides, he’s got some last few words he wishes to tell Umbrella before he bids this life farewell.

This is his life now. And in a morbid way, he thinks it is romantic. He read somewhere that if a swan dies, their surviving mate will fly into the sky and let themselves plummet to their death. Is that you and him? Should he put the final puzzle piece in your happily-ever-after and end it all? When the sun shines through the window and he wakes up without you again, however, Leon cannot romanticize the empty shell he is trapped within. He is desperate to know why you couldn't have taken his body with you on your way to heaven. Why death couldn’t have brought him eternal peace the very second you passed.

These several years have been spent drowning in alcohol. Leon has no preference for whatever booze he consumes, either. Anything that will make him forget it all will do the trick. At the bar with concerned bartenders or in his almost-empty liquor cabinet at home — he’ll take whatever he can get his hands on.

All his nights are now spent beneath the golden lights of the local bar. Dawn is spent crying on the kitchen floor with a queasy stomach. His days are all the same, too. Saving the lives of helpless citizens, he never forgets how the glimmer of gratitude in their eyes should have been yours.

This night in particular was no different. Leon has nearly drunk the entire bar's alcohol supply in hours. He imbibes a glass of whiskey and cringes at the cheap taste. Too sweet. Poorly made. He does not mind this, however, as anything that can ease the pain is satisfactory enough. And just like any other night, Leon is thinking of you. He watches the ice cubes dance in the cup, arms lazily resting on the sticky countertop. If only things were different, then he wouldn't have to be in this shit-hole right now. He could spend all his nights with you, instead. God, he misses you.

"You look lonely."

Leon didn't have to look up from his glass to know what was happening. At a place like this, it was inevitable.

He never took to heart whenever his coworkers teased him with names such as "pretty boy" or "Leonardo DiCaprio." It seemed to be a "chick magnet," as they so called it. So, when another stranger approaches him with that familiar glint in their eye, he knows what they want from him.

"I can fix that."

Leon looks to where the woman is sitting beside him. Like he does with every courting, he searches her for any remnants of you. If he were honest with himself, these people served as a good distraction. Enough bottles and he can delude his fuzzy brain into believing it was you standing beside him instead of another stranger.

The sight is blurred from his intoxicated state, but his judgment is clear as day. Her face shape and height contrast from yours. She is an inch or two shorter. Her smirk is sensual, not as toothy and adorable as your vivacious smile. Her body is entirely different, as well. Too bony, with wonky proportions that were nothing like you. The only similarity was her eye color. Your exuberant shimmer was missing, but the collection of hues shared puny similarities.

Eh. Good enough.

"Daddy! S-So big- fuck!"

The blaring sounds of heavy rock playing outside the motel room do not ease the headache Leon has, nor does the vociferous calamity of this woman. She doesn't sound anything like you. Too submissive, too goddamn insufferable. In his head, he can only imagine the dulcet sounds he could pull from your pretty lips. This woman was ruining that heavenly fantasy.

"I told you to be fucking quiet."

He uses his strength and pins her harder against the squeaking mattress. Insufferably irritating moans are muffled upon shoving that loud mouth into the pillows. Leon squeezes his eyes shut and puts all attention to the image he has painted in his mind.

You'd be different, much different. He can only imagine you beneath him like this. Harsh demands formed from your dulcet voice, commanding his every move and action. Telling your puppy dog to make you feel good with the promise of a reward — the thought alone never fails to send a shiver through his body. Leon is sure your golden voice praising him is all he needs to die happy.

"Fuck, 's too much. Daddy-"

The reverie shatters as quickly as it was formed. His calloused hands find the woman's hair and he forces her further into the pillows. She is not opposed to being treated roughly in the sheets, discernible in the way her moans and mindless babbles increase in volume.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

Leon would be different, too. Much softer than this. He would handle every inch of your skin like he's unmasking an archeological masterpiece. God, he couldn't treat you roughly even if he wanted to. Ruin every orgasm of his, leave his body littered with bruises and scratches. He would be a slave to your every whim, as pain at your hand would bring him bliss like no other. And in return, Leon would still touch your body with the same glass-like softness he is only ever capable of treating you with.

He buries his face into the stranger's shoulder and inhales the scent of their perfume. It is nauseating and nothing like you. Artificially sweet and too strong. Leon desperately fills the plot holes in his fantasy and imagines you dolling yourself up for him. Maybe after a tireless day at work, he would arrive home to you greeting him with a surprise. Where you got all dressed up for his eyes only and allowed him to indulge in your body again and again and again and again.

He can only imagine the look in your eyes when you call him your puppy, your husband, your good boy.

The thought sends him over the edge.

It is not a euphoric unfolding. It is sharp. Gross and weak. It is merely something to help him get by, even just barely. At least tonight Leon was able to finish inside a warm body instead of the plastic toy he keeps in his bedside drawer.

He doesn't even remember the name of this stranger. However, that doesn't matter when loud whines of your name jump out of his throat instead. The word tumbles from his mouth as though if he spoke it enough, you would materialize into this bed with him.

The unsatisfied woman does not overlook this. Another person's name shamelessly moaned by the man she thought she would have some late-night fun with, is he serious? She rolls her eyes and escapes from his sweaty hold. As she dresses herself, rehearsing how she'll tell this horror story to her friends, Leon stays on the bed. He does not try to stop her from leaving.

The afterglow is feeble, but he merely pretends it is as strong as he knows it would be with you. He wants to ensnare his body around yours and reaffirm just how deeply he loves you. He just wants to be with you again, no matter what the circumstances are. In the sheets after Earth-shattering sex with the love of his life or back in the grimy streets of Raccoon City, he will take anything if it means looking into your eyes again.

The door closes with a slam. Leon is now alone. But, then again, how could he notice? It is what the past six years have looked like, after all.

2,327 days and counting since he lost you.

If you asked him all that time ago where he thought he'd be right now, he would answer with the hope and happiness he only had then. He'd sit cozy in the little cabin in the woods you and he would occupy, he was sure of it. Summers would be spent in the sunlit lakes and Winters would be spent huddling for warmth by the fireplace. Years would pass like this. All laughter and kisses, snuggles, and healing hearts.

These fantasies haunt him like a horror-flick ghost floating around an attic, as it is what his life could have been had he not failed to protect you. He could have you in his arms this very second, but because of his God-awful driving skills, your body was left behind in the rubble of Umbrella's mistakes. It is what he devoted his entire career to now: tearing down that damned corporation. It is why he is in this motel room, to begin with, where he rots in these musty sheets and sleeps with people he can't remember the names of.

Images of you and him sharing smiles flicker through his brain and lull him. Your eyes are the last thing Leon sees before he falls asleep.

It is a light slumber. He does not dream, he is merely unconscious. When he wakes an hour later, it is like he has not slept at all. As if the short period of time passed in a sheer blink. This is what his sleeping schedule normally looks like nowadays, complemented by the heavy, storm-grey bags beneath his eyes.

The sheet draped over his waist leaves him cold. The Winter weather creeps into the room and engulfs his naked skin in goosebumps. When Leon tries to grasp more of the cheap blankets to drape himself in, he is at a loss when he finds himself unable to move. Almost as though a weight had forced him back onto the bed. He can't move even a muscle; he is wholly and utterly paralyzed.

There's a soft footstep that permeates. Leon's eyes dart around the room, but there is nothing to perceive in the dark emptiness. When he tries to open his mouth and question if that woman has returned, his jaw remains locked shut.

Another footstep. He searches for anything to defend himself from whatever monster lurks in the shadows.

Then, another step. There is no doubting someone is in this room with him. He tries to regain mobility of his body, scrambling to use his fists or to find his gun.

"Leon?"

Something blooms within him. A vibrant, healthy flower persevering through the fiery ashes.

"It's me..."

Home. That is the only word Leon could use to explain your voice. Like the swirling scent of oven-fresh cookies made by his grandmother. Like the imagination in his mother's voice when she read him a bedtime story. Like the scent of freshly mowed grass when he plays outside after school. The cadence and inflection of your words bring a sense of comfort like no other. Honey-sweet in the purest form.

Through the dust-ridden curtains, the hues of streetlight seep into one corner of the room. You step into the light, midnight shadows framing your features. You're dressed in the exact clothing he last saw you wearing, in the absence of all that blood and grime from that night. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes bore into him as you step closer. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, a smile grows on your lips and robs him of all coherent function.

Leon can't but wonder if this was it, if he had died on this disgusting motel bed and you were finally taking him back into your arms. He doesn't even mind losing all sense of mobility, as long as you keep looking at him like that. Neither his face nor his body can physically react to the rush of emotion that comes with your presence, but it is more than perceptible in his eyes. Sky-gray irises drowned in oceans of fervor. Baby blues overwhelmed with shimmering, flamboyant love.

"If only you had just heard me out, then I could actually be with you right now." Your words, as heavenly as they sound, confuse Leon.

You tuck some fallen wisps of blonde hair away from his face and he swears it is real. His heart hammers like a snare drum. This is real, it must be real, it has to be.

"If only you had just looked at the damn road instead of me. Then neither of us would be in this mess, would we?"

Something shifts in your gaze. That smile he loves so much is torn away and replaced with a scowl. There is now a perceptible rage in your expression, drowned in hollow emotion that clenches his heart.

"And look at you now! Cheating on me with someone you knew for three fucking seconds!? Like everything we have means jack shit to you!"

No, no, no, no, no! It's not like that! She means nothing, she is nothing! He only used her as a placeholder for you! There isn't a single redeeming feature about her that compares to you. Jesus Christ, how could he want anyone else when you exist?

Leon tries to respond, he really does. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, how badly he wishes he could go back six years and change it all. How many hours he has spent with his hands clasped in prayer, apologizing relentlessly to the sky and hoping you'll hear him from down here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.

You stand from the bed, hands balled into fists at your side. "You're not gonna say anything? Just lay there and look at me like I'm nothing but-!"

A figure then barrels at you from the shadows. Your infuriated rant was cut short with a gut-wrenching shout when you are knocked to the ground. Saturated flesh peeking from dead skin and groans of hunger plunging from their slack mouth — a zombie had leaped from the darkness and sunk its teeth into your shoulder. Blood spouts from your wound and cascades down your body. You plead for Leon to help you, that he not leave you behind like he did all those years ago. And so desperately, Leon tries to.

A scream is locked behind his closed mouth as he tries to wrestle his way back to you. It pries and fights to escape, as though the force of his shout would be enough to convince this brainless creature to leave you be. Eyes blown wide with dizzying panic, all he can do is watch. His toned chest, sheen with sweat, rises and falls with rapid movements. Muffled whimpers of horror escape from the subtle crease of his mouth.

With every beating second your life fades away, the more Leon latches to any vigor he can grasp. His efforts to save you are overwhelmed in sheer desperation. He cannot let this happen all over again; he cannot lose you a second time. It would kill him, he is sure of it.

Something twitches in his finger. Then his foot. And for a moment, hope flickers in his mind. He can save you and atone for what he failed to do before. When the squelching sounds of flesh torn asunder fill the silence, that hope wears thin.

Like a bag of sand, Leon is able to drag his limp body across the mattress. His jaw weakens, to where sounds of despair are granted the ability to escape in roaring fervency. Off the side of the bed with the speed of a slug, he hits the ground with a harsh thud. Hauling himself onto his stomach, a verbiage of your name leaves his mouth.

He begins to crawl helplessly to where you are, only to stop in his efforts when he finds nothing. The lights from outside still seep into the room and the racket sounds of rock music still play from a room over. But, you have vanished. Leon stares at where you had fallen, scrutinizing every detail for any resemblance of you.

Misery strikes like a gunshot through his chest. Why did he fail again? Why can't he be enough, even for just once?

Why do you always leave him in the end?

He is alone again. Sat by himself on top of the soiled motel carpet and used condom he had frivolously thrown across the room. But, once again, how could he notice? It is what the past six years have looked like. And now, it is what the rest of his life will likely be encompassed in — empty solitude and hopeless dreams of you.

Leon does not sleep for the rest of the night. He is far too restless from the stressful events, terrified of watching that scene play out all over again. The digital clock on the bedside table provided minimum light, where the vibrant red numbers tick away. All he does is lie in this mess, watching the hours drift away.

A dark blue soon ensnares the sky. Birds squawk and sing. Dawn has finally arrived and so does the sun, bathing the room in its glowing orange and pink hues.

Your sunrise welcomes him, once again. The warmth and its serenity fails to placate him, though. Sitting here, he realizes how much of a fool he was to believe it was you in some form. The very second you left, you took everything warm and bright with you. You left him cold and empty and lifeless. You nestled the sun behind your resting eyes when your life faded away.

Cuddling up with you in that imaginary cabin is the only thing that can vitalize him. Two cups of steaming tea, watching the wind sway through the trees from the porch. Oh, the things Leon would take to bring this fantasy to life. To bring you back into the warmth of his arms is all he could ever need, where you will be safe and forever alive.

6:02 AM on the clock, Leon is expected at work in the following hour. Without a morsel of energy left in his feeble body, the thought of standing on this grimy floor overwhelms him with disdain.

Despite how badly he wishes to beat all scientists involved with Umbrella to a bloody pulp, he must take a course of action that abides by legal standards. To do this, Leon must work behind the scenes, ensuring every nail and screw is fastened with flawless finesse. This slow journey toward his goal of tearing Umbrella to shreds has taken a toll on him. No punching bag to take his rage out and his anger nestles itself into his body. Once Umbrella is six feet under, only then will he grant himself permission to join you and let Earth reclaim his body.

Today, Leon is now a part of the Torrents: a Capture-Force team designated to take down Umbrella's rumored return and prosecute those working for them. He has been assigned to replace someone on the team upon their suspension for "severe mental issues,” or whatever that entails. Alcohol heavy on his breath and bags beneath his eyes, Leon arrives at work for the day. He walks through the doors of a sanctuary Umbrella was confirmed to have been located at but has since fled from.

"You're late."

Leon doesn't care to look at the voice, as he already acknowledged and dismissed the vibrant "7:39 AM" on his wristwatch. They should be grateful he was even here in the first place and not rotting in bed.

"Not exactly rooting for employee of the month. Do I look the type?"

Leon's comment causes him to let out a quick huff of laughter. This new guy is much more amusing than his previous coworker, after all.

"Tyrell. Call me 'T."

He takes his hand out for Leon to shake, which he ignores. Tyrell stuffs his hand back into his pocket upon his refusal to reciprocate. An awkward silence settles between them.

"Leon. But, you knew that already."

The blonde then walks away from his new acquaintance. He can't recall the last time he had one, no less a genuine friend. The only person he put honest effort into discerning was you. Everyone else was just painfully bleak background noise stood behind your radiant aura. There is no one in the universe he wishes to befriend anymore, not when you're gone.

Leon treads through the building in search of the office organized by the team. Working behind a desk provides him his wanted rest, but taking part in the action scene provides an acute distraction. With his hands covered in blood and his fingers reeking of gunpowder, it is the most peace he can feel. Punch after punch, shots upon shots — the thought of you is eased little by little. The memory of you still lives on, but it is ephemeral moments like this where Leon can forget it all.

Several workers walk through the halls with heavy boxes marked "EVIDENCE". Others photograph imperative scenery around them, while some are busy scribbling on their notepads. Leon passes all of them without a second thought. However, two of his coworkers in particular capture his attention.

They both guide a surviving patient through the hallway. A young man holding a file in his hands and a perceptible fear in his eyes. The man then swiftly, albeit pathetically, throws himself at Leon and the file is shoved against his chest upon impact. A few of the files' contents slip from the folder and splat against the tiled floors. Hands curled around the sheepskin hems of his jacket, the man begs Leon for his help.

"Please, you have to help me! I-I'm looking for someone."

Leon's stare is harsh. Cold and empty. Any living creature would surely keel over beneath that terrifyingly vacant gaze. The man, riddled with desperation, perseveres through this fear and continues to plead.

"They're my best friend... Please..."

The guards quickly shuffle over to the scene. Their hands grip the man's shoulders, but do not apply any further pressure. They look to Leon, waiting for the demand of their superior.

And without breaking eye contact, Leon speaks.

"Get him out of my sight."

They do as told, nearly shoving the man to the ground in their efforts to escort him out of the building. The hopeless gleam in his eyes should have sparked some form of guilt within Leon. Looking into that man's eyes, however, he feels nothing. Leon instead shifts his gaze to the ground. There, right beneath his boot, the sight of something causes his heart to quicken. Swiftly taking it into his gloved hands, his breath is then yanked from his chest.

In the polaroid is no other than you.

Snow engulfs the ground and you’re dressed in a large coat that practically swallows you whole. Pine trees blanketed in the white matter surround you. With chunky mittens on, you form a heart with your hands. Snowflakes descend from the sky, a few landing on your shoulders and knitted hat. Behind you, a stack of plastic sleds. You're captured with that smile of perfection on your face, the very smile that could rival the sun.

How...?

How did he have this? Leon could've sworn he had every picture of you...

He crosses the hallway in several large strides and finds him in mere seconds. With every sliver of strength in his body, Leon tears the man from the grasp of the guards and shoves him against the wall.

"Where did you get this!?" His voice has been reduced to a gruff timbre. A horrifying whisper.

Gesturing at the Polaroid, the man looks at him in bewilderment.

"W-What are you talking about-?"

Leon's forearm pushes against the base of his throat, pressing harder and arousing choked gasps from his throat.

"I won't ask you again..."

"Me! Me, I-I took it! I took the picture!" The man, wide-eyed and terrified, desperately exclaims the truth. However, his answer seemed to be the exact opposite of what his interrogator wished for.

Calloused hands clasped around his collar, Leon pulls the man back before shoving him back into the wall. A blood-curdling crack, then a grunt pervades the air. The unmistakable scent of iron diffuses from the man's skull, inevitable from the force of the hit. Leon practically snarls through his heavy breaths.

"When!? When'd you take this fucking picture!?"

The man slurs out his answer, now rendered delirious from the strike his head endured.

"Jan... January... La-Last January..."

The world then shatters around Leon.

The tumultuous clamor of everything falling apart before his eyes robs him of any coherent, proper function. These past six years play out like another nightmare. Every sip of alcohol, every aimless nightmare, every mediocre hookup — it all crumbles and joins the rubble of the destruction.

This whole time... This whole time you...

His vision blurs as the revelation settles, swimming through a void of vertigo and devastation. A sharp ringing permeates around him. It complements the sound of his hyperventilating breaths and hammering heartbeat. The firm grasp he once held on the man weakens, to where he scrambles away from Leon and his violent antics.

This whole time you were...

Alive...?

Leon turns his feet and stumbles away. Sweat seeps down his face and then his neck, staining the musk-stained clothes he had not washed in weeks. The sheer luminosity of the white lights, white walls, and white floors do not aid him in his attempts to soothe his sorrows. There's a sudden tightness in his chest. Leon brings his hand up to the painful ache, falling in his efforts to mend his affliction, once again.

"Are you alright, sir?"

The new voice could easily be spoken from miles away. Vanished and impossible to discern. Leon tries to clutch the walls to maintain his stability, but this inevitably fails him, as the shock derived from this epiphany sends his weak body to the unforgiving ground.

"I'm dying..."

He can hardly recognize his own voice. It is now a higher, fearful pitch than he is used to. The other person speaks once more, but he cannot perceive what was said. Their words are merely a quiet boat in a thrashing ocean.

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe."

This feeling of realization bubbles in his chest and infiltrates every inch of his form. His chest is overwhelmed with panicked breaths. Up and down, up and down. The stranger then sprints away from Leon. Their shouts for a doctor are distorted, now an echo Leon cannot discern.

Voices from his past speak to him from all directions. As though the very walls surrounding him were taunting him. Mocking every failure of his.

"Leon- LEON-!!"

"And look at you now! Cheating on me with someone you knew for three fucking seconds!?"

"I wanted to. I wanted to kill him."

"Ambushed. No possible way of getting them out of that mess..."

"If only you had just looked at the damn road instead of me."

His world has been torn to paper-thin shreds. Then, it all goes dark. Leon is left alone and unconscious in this vast abyss of nothingness.

Tyrell sighs in frustration. He wonders why this team has such a knack for hiring people with "severe mental issues".

A harsh cut to reality is what Leon was next met with. Inside this shoebox-sized hospital room, ragged belts are restrained around his limbs. Doctors rush in and out of the blinding-white room. A myriad of drugs course in his system, intended to ease the rampant panic pumping through his body. The aftermath of his panic attack was fresh, yet still, all Leon could think about was you.

How you, his sunshine, his sweet baby, have been alive all this time.

Leon thrashes and fights against his restraints, as though you were just outside the door, waiting for him to come scoop you in his arms and close the distance between you at once. For the umpteenth time, several nurses race into the room and sedate him. Again, he is forced into another fit of unconsciousness. This routine will go on to repeat numerous times. Knowing you are out there somewhere, alone, makes for a man inconsolable.

Several days pass before Leon is brought to a state of mediocre tranquility. His heart is still rampant, but with fear of more time wasted without taking proper action, he abides by the doctor's demands. He will do anything to get to you, after all. Kneel before God, succumb to the Devil. Face him with the most torturous, humiliating, gut-wrenching fate with the promise of your return and he will simply smile in response. Leon will lay with blood painting his teeth and purple bruises caked into his skin, unhinged with euphoria knowing you are the prize at the end of the tunnel.

Mere picoseconds had passed before he sprung into action. He is swift to return to his work. Fervently, he begins scouring through every detail Umbrella left behind to pinpoint the exact location you reside at.

The most valuable piece of evidence was security camera footage. A prominent clue that made Leon's stomach coil like a snake ensnaring itself around its prey. Outside of the window to your bedroom, the night-vision camera highlights the scene of two intruders. With careful ease, they pull your unconscious body through the room and flee to the adjacent forest with you in their arms.

Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira are their names.

Or, as Leon prefers to refer to them, two names that have now been added to his lengthy list of those who will face his wrath.

The team has theorized the two have been working for Umbrella and were assigned to sneakily escort survivors to a new location. Due to this, patients still in this present location are now being sent to a hospital guarded by the Torrents. A place where they will be kept far away from Umbrella's grasp. What the team can't piece together, however, is why the two never came back to take more survivors. They had plentiful opportunities, but you, Y/N L/N, are the only missing patient. Or, as the team has now assigned your code name as, "Baby-Eagle".

Now, Leon is coursing through Spain. Guns strapped in their holster, knives out at the ready, and a reveling rage in his eyes — he counts every second spent away from you. The chilling temperatures gust against his skin like sharp teeth as he practically tears the country asunder. All that matters is finding the face that has been stamped in every dream of his for the past six years.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He still can't believe it. You are alive.

If Leon grants himself permission to revel in this fact, he will lose what little control he still possesses over himself. God knows how much he needs the slivers that still remain. These feelings, despite all, have kindled strength Leon never recognized. A new spark; a fresh, riveting chapter. Emotions which only you, some sort of sorcerer, are capable of conjuring.

A day has now passed of his relentless search. More and more does fear cradle Leon. Like a warm blanket nestled around his heart, he is horrified by the silence that ventures through the land of Los Iluminados. The mere thought of potentially stumbling across you, lifeless, is enough to evoke a gag from the back of his throat. He cannot handle that. He cannot lose you again.

The dim light of dusk irradiates the loading docks. Every rushed step Leon takes causes the decrepit surface to moan weakly from the weight. He scrutinizes every shipping container, every nook and cranny, every barrel splattered with yellow paint. He becomes increasingly more ridden with desperation as his lasting hope begins to flicker.

Leon turns a corner and finds it: the sight he has been crying every night to see for six years. His mouth speaks before his brain can emulate these soul-crushing sensations.

"Y/N...!?"

You turn your head to the intrusion. Leon is shocked he had not died right there beneath your gaze.

You, his epic, undying love, rest there as though Botticelli painted you as the focal point for 'Birth of Venus'. Sat against some paper sacks like Venus stood on her scallop shell, Leon has never seen a sight quite as perfect as this. Strikingly similar to the pearl Venus resembles, you and her are pure and exquisite as you are brought to life. In a way, it is precisely the events which take place now. Six years wrestling with the burden of your death, only for you to be reborn before his very eyes like the natural, divine God you are. Absolutely, irrevocably perfect in your stance.

Leon stands frozen in place. Staring at this work of art, this utter masterpiece mere yards away from him. He is then taken aback when he feels something wet trickle down his cheeks. What he assumes to be rainfall is actually... tears?

All these years, he has begged the universe to feel his emotions. Or to feel anything, for that matter. It will not bring you back, as he wholly prayed for every night, but it would bring temporary, weak relief. Right now, as though you had some form of superpower, Leon cries. He cries like he has never before. His face twists into an ugly scrunch; he can feel the hot tears and stringy snot seep down his skin. He listens to the gut-wrenching sobs protruding from his chest and holds his hand over his heart, overwhelmed by the intensity the organ is enduring.

Despite the tragic scene, Leon has never been happier. The journey these six years have taken him on has been rough. Irrevocably soul-crushing. Seeing you here, beautiful as you always were, makes everything worth it — utterly, indubitably, and completely.

Then, someone else interrupts.

Ada Wong, a few years older, steps into view. Guarding you from the unwelcome intruder.

The epiphany strikes like a broken heart. It is not betrayal, as he has never trusted Ada. Rather, it is a flood of humiliation. It is absolute shame, unadulterated and pure. How could he have been such a fool?

All this time, Ada had kept you with her. She was the reason he was apart from you; she was the distance that stood between two soulmates. That must be the story, right? She sunk those acrylic claws into your pretty skin and took you away from him, spewing lies about your death and granting Umbrella access to you.

Leon is hit with this epiphany. Hit with what he perceives to be the truth. And it makes him alive with rage.

"It was you, wasn't it...?"

The silence is shattered by his voice. Sewn with fury and nestled deep inside him. His attention, once solely devoted to the love of his life, has now been shifted towards someone else. The one he believes to be responsible for these six years of sheer agony.

"This whole fucking time-!"

In one swift motion, Leon storms over with his fingers clenched to his holster. You stand from the paper sacks and use your body as a shield between Ada and him. Your hand ghosts over Leon's chest to prevent any more unwanted violence. And how unaware you are of the sheer impact your physical touch has on this man.

For a moment, just a fleeting second, Leon is able to overlook the context of the circumstances. Your hand barely makes contact with his body, and from them, he can feel your warmth. The same warmth he has been chasing after; the same warmth he has killed himself over and over to try and retrieve again. It is like a gentle breeze, like tepid bath water. Somehow, your simple touch has pacified his rage as though it were merely child's play to you. Something Leon never thought was feasible.

And just like always, Ada Wong is there to shatter yet another trance.

"Have you really gone so far off the deep end, that you think you could ever amount to being their boyfriend? You truly believe you deserve that title?" Ada laughs. A deep, mocking chuckle. "Are you really that delusional or just naturally blonde?"

You look at Ada and speak for the first time.

"'Boyfriend?'"

An expression of puzzlement is plastered on your face. In return, their heads whip to stare at you, brows furrowed while searching for confirmation.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Leon was never my boyfriend...?"

Their confusion deepens. Ada questions how she could have so foolishly fallen for a fantasy this dumb boy created. Leon questions why you are telling her such lies. You've been dating for almost seven years now, what are you talking about?

"Y/N/N, you don't have to lie to her. You know I won't let her hurt you."

Now, it is your turn to be just as perplexed as they both are. What the fuck is he talking about?

As you're busy scrutinizing him for an explanation, Ada grasps hold of your forearm. Protectively and with softness, she guides you away from the deranged antics of Leon. You lean into her touch in response, as your trust in her is stronger than whatever you feel for him. Especially after the events you and Ada have both endured today.

The man in question, however, does not favor this action. With a swiftness that makes you dizzy, Leon shoves her off of you. Ada falls to the ground from the force of his strength but gracefully springs to her feet. Eyes narrowed and hunting knife in hand, she is ready for battle.

A shriek then falls from your mouth when Leon takes his pistol from its holster but is replaced with shocked silence when Ada kicks the gun from his grasp with her stiletto heel. A stab towards his chest is easily blocked by his meaty forearm, but she still manages to retaliate and surges a punch across his jaw.

Everything happens so fast that it is impossible for you to keep up with the speed of it all. When Ada drops to her feet, encasing her leg around Leon's ankles and sending him to the floor, the loud clamor of his harsh landing takes you back to a few days ago. That bang! is all too familiar. The fire of gunshots out of Jill's gun and the pounding of their fists against flesh — these memories return more harshly than before. Your heart hammers with dread and adrenaline, as though the same inner turmoil has returned yet again.

Once again, who do I choose? The clingy customer at Mizoil, the overly affectionate Superwoman, or myself?

In a state of pure instinct, you do what you predominantly fail at the most. Run.

You don't anticipate how close they may be behind, or if two of your past lovers may be waiting somewhere in the forest. You do not pay these thoughts any attention, for that matter. Focused entirely on the path ahead, you run like you never have before. And if it weren't for the rampant adrenaline coursing through your system, you could say you've become familiar with this forest. It is almost ridiculous how much you have raced past all these trees. Burning lungs, numb legs and all — oh, this is really getting old.

When a sudden force knocks you to your feet, you can feel yourself begin to succumb to lethargy. The relentless sprint and post-laser-induced pains have become too much for your body to endure. Shifting your gaze up, however, you are met with a burst of energy when you see that you have collided with... A person?

Thick gear is strapped to his strong body. Glasses are rested upon the bridge of his nose. This is the first stranger you have seen in months and you do not know how to handle it.

"Oh, shit. It's really you..." His concerned gaze peers at you through his foggy eyewear.

When his fingers ghost over your arm, you flinch away from him. You do not mean to do this, but your body, riddled with turmoil and trauma, reacts before your brain can.

"It's alright, it's alright..." His voice goes softer. "My name is Tyrell. I'm here to help you."

He reaches a cautious hand out to you, as though you were a feeble, terrified animal backed into a corner. Your trust has been worn thin, but whatever fight left in your system has entirely perished. You cannot run anymore; you cannot defend yourself. If this is death, then you will welcome it with open arms. At least you can say you've made it this far.

Lifting a shaky hand up, you let out a gentle gasp when you make physical contact with him. With tender encouragement, Tyrell brings you to your feet. Your tired legs wobble as though you were a baby fawn. Touch that does not inevitably follow with romantic expectations is something foreign to you. This level of kindness has almost become a stranger. Although you would never verbalize it, his touch feels good. It is a comfort; a softness.

Before you know it, your eyes flutter shut. Your body fails you and you collapse into Tyrell's arms. Now, unconsciousness comes as a solace, instead of that familiar trepidation.

And so engrossed in their own feral need for dominance, neither Ada nor Leon had taken notice of your sudden disappearance.

Fresh bruises and blood splatters permeate their bodies. What neither of them realizes about the other is that Leon fights hard, yes, but Ada doesn't fight fair. In a matter of several seconds, she takes the man to the metal floors, once again.

Leather heels pressed to his neck, she points his own pistol to his face.

"Now stay down."

Leon has never been one to back down. Even with death staring directly into his eyes, never once has he begged. However, with you here, alive, he can't bear to be torn from you again.

"Don't... Please, I-I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't take me away from them. Not again..."

Ada is nearly struck dumbfounded by this new side of him. Leon Kennedy, the savior of the president's daughter, one of the few survivors of Raccoon City, is begging for his life? What has she done to this man? Or, above all, what have you done to him?

"Tell me what Umbrella wants with Y/N."

Leon's eyes trail off behind her, seemingly searching for something with frantic movements. Her words had merely gone through one ear and out the other. His silence is only met with frustration.

"I've kept you away from them for this long." Her finger moves to hover over the trigger. "I can easily turn those six years into forever."

"Where did Y/N go?" Leon cuts her off.

Ada nearly snaps her neck with how fast she turns around. Dark eyes scanning the loading docks, her stomach sinks into a sea of dread when she cannot find you. Leon scrambles to his feet and searches alongside his nemesis. Shouts of your name echo into the gloomy skies; their hammering hearts could rival a war drum.

From here, yet another search for you begins. And between them, there is now an unspoken agreement, a newfound alliance. Although their plans rarely come to fruition, they have both found a conclusion together. The two are now wholly focused on the scheme they will achieve or die striving for.

Find you, ensure your safety, and keep you forever in their arms.

A warm, wet rag pressed against your forehead is what you awaken to next. The sudden shift into consciousness causes you to jerk back. Your eyes burst wide, scrutinizing as much of your environment as you can.

You're finally out of that dark forest. Now, you've been rested upon a dilapidated couch. Damp clothes are still stuck to your body, but a thick comforter has been draped upon you. The golden lamplight highlights Tyrell, who sits on the coffee table beside you. With a bowl of water and a rag in his hand, he looks at you with a concerned gleam in his gaze.

You are brought to a mild sense of ease once you comprehend your surroundings. You do not have it within you to trust anyone, but for some reason, this man has brought tranquility you cannot explain. Safety has become a rarity. And you gobble every breadcrumb of it you are able to garner.

"Welcome back." He jokes. His tone is still quiet, as it has been. Careful.

Your throat aches, but you still speak.

"Where am I?" You nearly cringe at how scratchy, how pathetic your voice is.

"My house." This does not calm you. Tyrell notices.

"Hey, no one can get you in here. You are safe, I swear it." His assurances help ease you. He, once again, takes notice of this before continuing.

"I'm sure you have a 'lotta questions for me, huh? I got some for you, too."

"Umbrella. What do they want from me?"

"That's a good question because I don't know either. It's what we're trying to figure out." You furrow your brow, to which he answers to your confusion. "I work with a team called the Torrents. We've been tasked with locating Umbrella and finding any survivors. You were top of our list, 'Baby-Eagle'. Now that you're safe and sound, my teammates can finally get some sleep."

Your smile grows at that nickname. God, when was the last time someone elicited a genuine smile from you?

"We think they may have been testing on some of the patients they have. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

Then, the dread settles with the realization. Jill and Carlos were right this whole time. When you would travel to the ends of the Earth to defend that corporation, it was all for a lie in the end. When Jill and Carlos saved you from them, you paid them back with cruelty and distrust. You left them both in the dust when all they wished to do was save you. Should you have ever left them?

"What about Carlos Oliveira? Jill Valentine? We know they had, um... taken you. If you're willing to talk about them, I'm all ears. 'Got all night, anyways."

There Tyrell goes again. The voice of reason in a bubble of incoherent regret.

"All I-um... All I remember is being at the sanct- er, Umbrella. I drank some tea and then I woke up in Jill and Carlos' house. The next several months, they-uh, they convinced me we were in a... relationship, of some sort. Matt- or Umbrella, found us in the end. They all hurt each other. Real bad. Then, I ended up here." Your words are quiet and broken, but Tyrell manages to pick up every cracked piece of your voice.

"Okay. I see..." He nods. "Do you think Jill and Carlos could have possibly been working for Umbrella?"

This question leaves you taken aback, evident in your dramatic reaction and scrunched face.

"God, no! They despised Umbrella. And I... I defended Umbrella. I thought they helped me, I thought they were the good guys. Every time Jill and Carlos talked shit about them, I would get so-" You interrupt yourself with a coughing fit.

Reaching to his side, Tyrell holds a plastic bottle of water in his large hands. The prospect of drugs floating through the liquid fills you with apprehension. However, with your throat on fire, you eagerly take the bottle and nearly down the entire beverage. Tyrell is one of the good ones, he wouldn't do that to you. You're sure of it.

"It's alright. You don't have to answer any more of my stupid questions, don't worry. All you 'gotta do is rest."

If you were more conscious and without the weight of fresh trauma, you'd make a joke of how he should be a voice actor with such a soothing voice like his. Tyrell's hand finds your shoulder and softly guides you back down to the couch. You ignore the unfamiliar, teenage-love-like bolt of electricity that flows from his touch and you follow his lead. When your head hits the rough fabric of the pillow, you let your heavy eyes fall.

When a door down the hallway bursts open, you cannot tell if you had been asleep for hours or if you had slept at all. Without Tyrell's presence, that all-too-familiar sense of terror returns. When you are barely able to discern his muffled voice through the walls, that terror is slightly diluted with ease. The context is what lies outside this room still has you riddled with fear.

Then, like every cheesy romance film you've ever seen, Leon Kennedy stands on the threshold of the living room entrance.

You are barely allowed a mere second to process his presence before he is barreling for you. His arms, thick and warm, ensnare around your waist. He exhales your name with a breathless tremor, burying his head further into the crevice of your neck. And you melt into him. After everything you've been through, a hug is something you are in dire need of. Leon croons in response, latching onto you tighter. Nestling himself closer against you like a touch-starved, needy puppy-dog.

"Oh, sunlight... I was so worried...!" Although this man has suffered drastic changes in the six years you've been without him, he never seems to have let go of that saccharine tone. Unbeknownst to you, you are the only one capable of summoning that side of Leon.

Although you feel safe in the comfort of Tyrell's home, there is still that stagnant terror fizzing in your stomach. A myriad of questions overwhelm your brain. What has happened? How much time has passed? Where is Ada?

You weaken your hold on him. He does not like that. "Leon. Please, I need to know-"

"Shh..." He interrupts, his hands trailing up your form until they grasp hold of your face. His grip on you, tighter than ever, shifts so he can gaze into your eyes.

"Just let me look at you..."

And that he does. Seconds, then minutes pass. All Leon does is stare directly into you. As though every inch of your irises were being studied to memory by him. As though he was pulling the depths of your soul to the surface of your eye, all for him to gawk and goggle at. It should make you blush and avert your gaze, as the characters normally do in those romance movies. However, you can't bring yourself to. You feel uncomfortable and scrutinized. As though you are restrained to a metal table for strangers and doctors to poke and prod at.

The doorbell then rings and the echo roams through the halls. You are broken from this entrance with Leon, but he is not. God, how could he?

With you here, all the cruelty he has been faced with is now wrapped together in a pretty bow. It was all a present, he now realizes. Everything that has happened led him to the personification of utmost, perpetual happiness. So, you must forgive him if he finds himself staring for too long (not that he even realizes, for that matter). It is impossible to fathom the flood of euphoria rushing through him, hence the dumbfounded, love-struck expression stamped on his face.

"Y/N..." He exhales, honey dripping from his voice.

Although he does not wish to close his eyes, Leon cannot imagine a better time to kiss you. Where the music swells, the candles glimmer, the moon gleams. It is what he has been dreaming about for six years, after all.

Just as Leon leans in, his intentions are cut short. Someone else, once again, interrupts.

Tyrell avoids the death glare from Leon and focuses on you, oblivious to how this action is the root of Leon's fury.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything. Someone was just here for you, Y/N."

Carlos and Jill are the first people who enter your mind, here to take you back to the affection-ridden toxicity of their humble abode. When Tyrell holds his hands out and displays what this stranger left, however, you're taken aback.

"She claimed to be your wife...?"

Tyrell informs you with uncertainty in his voice.

"And she left this."

What he then gives to you is a plushie, one you remember all too well. It is an opossum, the very same opossum you cuddled with every night during your time at the sanctuary. You've missed him very much whilst you were stuck with Jill and Carlos. Despite your expressed wishes, they never made the effort to retrieve your darling opossum. Why cuddle some measly fabric and cotton when you can cuddle them instead?

You let out a sigh of relief. Thank God it is not those two at the door.

The only striking difference in your fuzzy friend is the blood-red ribbon tied around the opossum's neck. Wedged between the silk and faux fur is a folded piece of paper. Both Tyrell and Leon watch as you open the letter, digesting the contents written on the surface.

In red ink, "Wait for me, petal..." is written with flawless, cursive handwriting. Beneath, a dandelion is drawn. The pappus drifts through the wind and scatters across the paper.

Ada?

Why is she here? Where has she been?

Or, more importantly, how the hell did she find your opossum?

A rough, sharp gasp sprouts from Jill's throat when she awakens.

A flickering light sways above her, the sight blurred in her tired gaze. Her body aches from the awkward position she was unconscious in. Lifting her weakened body up, Jill discerns several bodies, painted in blood and grime, that had been splayed in a frivolous mess. There are miscellaneous documents scattered amongst this violent disarray. Shifting her distorted gaze, she finds two metal doors that had been sprung open. How the hell did she get inside of a truck? What caused it to crash in the first place?

Using the dented walls for support, she stumbles forward. Black dots dance in Jill's vision for a moment, before returning to a hazy blur as she staggers out of the vehicle. With an abrupt grunt, she collapses into the mud. Her hands, stained with dirt, hold her ribs in an attempt to ease the stagnant pain.

For this simple moment, Jill is alone in the world. When the most important thing in her life finally flashes through her mind, the pumping of her heart accelerates.

Y/N... Where did you go?

Memories of her last encounter with you return, as well. It harbors terror like no other. She speaks your name and it sprouts from her throat in a desperate call.

Jill's breath quickens when she discerns a voice. The indubitable sound of someone crying for help echoes through the forest. She turns to the source with hope and worry shimmering in her eyes. Oh, it's her baby, her butterfly! You need her help!

"Y/N...! I'm coming..." Her voice is weak, but her attempts are the entire opposite.

Jill limps through the forest, clambering over wreckage with frantic effort. Averting her blurred gaze to the sound of cries, her face drops when she finds something entirely different.

That doctor you are evidently so infatuated with is stuck beneath a pile of rubble. His face appears as though it had been sunken in. Drowned in a mess of gore.

And sitting on top of the doctor is no other than Carlos Oliveira, whose fists are painted in that same gore.

His clenched fists plunge into Matt's face over and over and over again. His teeth are barred and bloodied like some sort of animal. His voice is several octaves lower than ever before, all guttural growls and grunts like some sort of rabid creature. It is something Jill has never seen before. Not in Raccoon City, not when they took you from the sanctuary, not even when she took you out for a ride on her motorcycle. He is now a monster in its absolute form.

However, Carlos is not something she is concerned with at the moment. She hurls herself over to the two and shoves Carlos off of Matt. He falls to the ground with a loud thump and a harsh curse. Jill ignores his dramatic reaction, before climbing atop of Matt and ensnaring her hands around his red-stained neck. Jill then proceeds to interrogate him of your whereabouts.

"What did you do to them? Where the fuck did you take them!?" Jill does not recognize herself, either. Her voice has morphed into a low, violent tone, an inflection she never knew she was capable of producing.

Matt does not respond to her pressuring questions. He chokes and gurgles on chunks of blood, teeth, and spit. His eyes, now puffy and swollen from the relentless blows they have endured, gape at her in confused terror. However, not that Matt could even be given the chance to respond. Jill glances at the sudden movement in her peripheral and is met with Carlos' fist striking her cheek. The force of the punch sends her to the dirt.

"This is all your fucking fault, Jill!" Her ears almost ring from the sheer volume of his shout.

Once again, it is a side of Carlos she has never seen before. She can take a punch, that's for damn sure. God knows she's handled worse. But fuck, is he out for blood right now.

"If you had never taken Y/N outside, they never would've wanted to leave in the fucking first place!" The tremble in the back of Carlos' throat jeopardizes his intimidation factor. Of course, he is crying, Jill sighs to herself.

Her lanky fingers press into the damp ground to stabilize herself. Before she can bring herself back to her feet, however, something catches her eye. A single document among the millions. She takes the closest one into her grasp and reads through the classified contents. With that damned Umbrella logo in the corner, Jill is fully aware of what evil, corrupt plans await her in the following passage.

As Carlos sobs like a child behind her, whimpers of "my baby" and "come back to me" filling the silent air, she scours through the information printed on the page. Three names are stamped in bold: Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira, and Y/N L/N. More survivors collected from Raccoon City, they claim. There are reports of your physicality and state of being, accompanied by their predictions on how you'll react to their new testing. "Las Plagas" is what they refer to it as.

At the very bottom of the document, most imperatively, is a series of coordinates to their new location.

With this newfound, fruitful information, Jill trudges over to Carlos for additional aid. When she finds him practically tucked into a ball, sobbing his lungs out, she cannot restrain herself from rolling her eyes.

"Get up. Get up, pussy, come on-!" When she tugs on his arm, he pushes her harshly away from him.

"You don't understand!” Brown eyes, overwhelmed with tears, glare at her in accusation. “I can't live without them..."

Jill is swift to counter back. "Neither can-fucking-I! And we will never see 'em again unless you man-up and fuckin’ listen to me!"

This grabs his attention.

"So, are you just gonna sit there and fuckin' whine about it or are you gonna help me?"

With a sniffle, Carlos nods in agreement.

"Good. Now get your shit together and find me a goddamn map."

Jill does not waste another second before springing into action. She begins with a thorough scrutinization of the scene of the crash, searching for any specific landmarks that will inform them of their current whereabouts. When all she finds is a street sign made of decaying wood that reads "Los Iluminados," she knows her luck is wearing thin.

When Carlos announces with a cracked voice his discovery, Jill limps with urgency to him. Nestled beneath the passenger seat is a map, crumbled and stained with filth. Jill yanks the paper from his hands and searches for the street they are currently stuck on, while also discerning the coordinates Umbrella had disclosed in their document.

Meanwhile, Carlos chokes out demands left and right. Asking her what all of this is for, and how this will help him in his efforts to reunite with his sweet bumblebee. Despite his irritating questions, she does not respond to him. She is too engrossed in her own head, manipulating her detective skills.

"There." Jill finally breaks her fit of silence.

Presenting the map to Carlos, she points to where the coordinates line up.

"That's where Y/N is."

A beat passes as Carlos, too, inspects the contents before him. Then, he snatches the map from Jill's hands. He storms off in the direction she advised with a desperate vengeance in his disposition.

When Jill takes a step to follow him, something clutches around her ankles. With a sharp gasp, she looks down to identify the sudden matter. When the hopeful fraction of her mind told her it could be you, she was met with disappointment when she finds Matt. Whining and pleading for her help, blood still oozing from his butchered head and seeping into the mud below.

Jill stares at the man with absolutely nothing in her eyes. She, instead, snatches a loose, sharp twig from the mess of detritus scattered around. Before Matt can obtrude another helpless plead, she drives the stuck directly into his eye. Blood squirts from the fresh wound like a fizzy soda. One last gurgle for air and his body finally goes limp.

She spits on his corpse. Then, Jill turns back to follow Carlos on his trail.

Wherever you may be, she will find you. Even if it kills her.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ I TRY TO FALL FOR HER TOUCH,

BUT I'M THINKING OF THE WAY IT WAS . . . ❞

long wait but we back again babyyyyy

gif creds :: leon.

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unconventional-lawnchair · 4 months ago

Text

" But daddy, I love him "

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Potter!Reader

Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Harry finds out his sister is dating Mattheo Riddle Ft. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius - No war au }

Wc- 5178

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, a lot of people saying a lot of mean things, sexual themes cussing}

A/n: Possible part 2 later

Mattheo Riddle had a reputation for himself. Everyone knew him bloodied before they'd seen him presentable. A Hotwire, fizzling and popping, just waiting for the next person to cross him in a way he deemed punishable, ‘the muggle way.’

He never truly had a distaste for muggles or muggleborns, but they stayed clear of him regardless. Voldemort's son was like a cautionary tale told through the halls, of just how ruthless and unhinged death eaters could be. His mother, Beatrix Lestrange, in Azkaban for life for such cruelties, his father had a name no one dared to say. That left very little to the imagination, or maybe just too much?

Another thing about Mattheo Riddle, he never said what he was thinking, he only acted. So no one knew the true boy outside of his blinding rage, insatiable flirting and the horrid legacy his parents so carefully wove for him. No one, aside from you.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, truly, it was just an assignment.

“I have a student, he is failing in my class, but I know he has so much potential to do better.” McGonagall began. “If you tutor him, I will give you credits towards one of your less favorable classes.”

Was it bribery? Yes, was it technically against school policy? Most definitely. Were you going to say no to free credits for the history of magic? Absolutely not.

You should have been clued in, when she didn't tell you who you were tutoring, but like your father and brother, your eye was on the prize. Instead of a snitch, however, yours were the new napping opportunities in your least favorite subject.

You were told by the professor that the study sessions would take place during dinner, and you were allowed to request food from the house elves before or after the meetings. You had to wonder; why was this student getting all these special treatments? And what did you have to do with it? Imagine your surprise when you walked into the library when dinner was taking place, only for your eyes to land on the candle lit silhouette of Mattheo Riddle himself.

You knew him, of course you did, his father had tried to kill your entire family, while you didn't endure the worst of it, Merlin, you were still in your mothers stomach at the time, your fathers horror stories of the DeathEaters and the recounting of the night was so etched into your brain you could likely recall it as if you stood in that room. The day your father saved the wizarding world, by simply, picking up his wand from the couch when he opened the door.

Despite it all, you tried not to judge him by the actions of his father, so that the only thing you had left were the numerous bloodied fights he'd been a part of since he walked through the doors of Hogwarts. Not to mention the amount of broken hearted witches that clung to his heels.

Though, now, as you stared at him across the empty Library, he seemed so… peaceful. Calm and reserved, maybe it was the yellow light, or maybe it was the way he seemed to be genuinely enraptured by whatever he was reading. Sitting patiently, just waiting. Waiting for you. You quickly snapped out of your daze, walking forward to stand in front of him.

Mattheo lazily glanced up before his eyes widened slightly and his mouth opened a bit in slack shock. “Potter.”

“Riddle.” You acknowledged him. He didn't seem offended or bothered by your presence, more, confused. There was an easy silence between you two before you gestured to the seat beside him. “May I?”

“... be my guest.”

That's where it all started. Mattheo was nothing like who you thought he'd be. He was respectful, kind, studious and incredibly clever. You had to admit, Minerva was right, he had incredible potential beyond what he seemed to think of himself. He just needed time to sit down and work, instead of his usual activities, and whatever impression he was trying to make for himself.

Your meetings were frequent, and his grades started to improve. As you got closer, the change in his behavior in class was the first thing you noticed. He began to actually work in potions, probably the only class you shared being a year younger and a Griffondor. You heard from Harry that he had actually scored higher than most of their shared class in Transfiguration. Though, it was a comment out of malice, you couldn't deny how it made you preen with pride.

In the halls you were strangers, but in your personal nook of the library, you were a deadly dynamic. He was a flirt, you knew that before, but he never said the raunchy things he'd say to the girls in the halls he'd flirt with, to you. The occasional comment on your eyes or your calligraphy, maybe some that toed the line of platonic study buddies. You figured that was how he showed affection, but you had no real reference point for it.

If it was another thing that you knew about Mattheo that not many others knew, it was that he adored praise. All forms of it. He would get bashful and try to hide away from it, but you would see how much harder he tried to impress you everytime. You found it amusing, you would hear the teachers praise him and he'd simply shrug it off, trying to play it cool. But in those private moments between.. friends, when you were revising his essay, with mutters of, “That's a spectacular way to look at it, Riddle.”

And

“That's brilliant. You're brilliant.”

He would turn as red as a tomato. It made you smile. This was the version of him no one else could or ever would have. It made you cocky, it made you want more of the secret Mattheo, the one he only showed to the closest people.

You had gotten so used to Mattheo’s presence. He had stayed out of trouble, been doing wonderfully in his classes, and he still insisted on your study dates. Said they were the only thing keeping him interested in the classes he took. Ever the flirt.

You guessed being used to Mattheo Riddle of all people was the first part to an awful downward spiral. You had fallen for him. Hard.

You first noticed when he had to cancel one of your meetings. He was passing you in the hall, two Prefects had him by his forearms, and Snape was rattling on about a proper punishment for him. He had a cut lip and a gnarly battered nose. You were on your way to the library to meet, but when you made eye contact with him you visibly deflated. He had that stupid cocky look on his face, teeth stained red as he winked at a few girls he passed, focusing on anything but Snape’s words.

When his eyes met yours, however, his lips twitched and his eyes lost their twinkle. Like a puppy being told no. Or properly, a boy ashamed. And he should feel ashamed.

You had forgotten who he was when you weren't buried in your books. So for the first time in weeks, you were at the Gryffindor dining table, across from Ginny and Seamus, poking at your food in disinterest. Surrounded by friends and family, and yet so incredibly lonely. Ginny eventually caved to your moping, looking over with a loud click of her tongue.

“{Y/N}?” She called over and your eyes flicked up and an easy smile took over your face. “Ginny?”

“It's good to see you, you've been avoiding the dining hall for a while now.” She teased and leaned her legs forward to lock her ankles around one of yours to keep you in place. You couldn't help but give a cheeky grin at this.

“Well, I would argue anything is better than being forced to watch you make heart eyes at my brother.” You shot back and Harry looked up from his plate curious, met with the view of you being smacked in the face with a bun.

“Hey!” You challenged and grabbed your own bun before you heard your head of house clear her throat behind you. Slowly, you set down the bread and looked back at her as she gave you a quizzing look. Clearly confused by you being there, asking with her eyes. Not even having noticed the gluten assault.

“Rain check.” You remarked and shrugged before she let out a simple ‘ah’ and walked off. This just set off Ginny’s and now Harry’s curiosity.

“What was all that? Thought you were meeting a boy, if I'm honest, now I'm not sure.” Ron mumbled and Harry tilted his head at you.

“Ew, don't say that, that's my baby sister.” Harry huffed and looked over at you. His expression said it all. “What have you been getting up to?”

You stared at him before slowly smirking, leaning your chin on your palm. “Huh, well, me and Ginny are the same age-”

Then, another bun, to your face, courtesy of your brother. “That's enough out of you.” He huffed.

That's how you got here. Sitting in the forbidden woods, trying to demonstrate to Mattheo how to use a patronus, something your parents showed you when you were younger. Your study rendezvous has long since become time to study more than just your core classes. No one else was around, just you two, while everyone else was hidden away in the grand hall eating.

“So, firstly, this is a spell that most wizards and witches cannot use. So don't be afraid if you never come to pass.” You explained and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Right, if I'm not past the level you were at as a toddler, end my misery early.” He teased and you gave a playful scoff and crossed your arms. “Not a toddler, just 12.”

He rolled his eyes with his own smirk playing on his lips. You found yourself staring at the peak of his teeth, threw his lips, you felt your entire body respond in kind. “To be fair, you don't need to feel self conscious, I mean, I am leagues above you, even now.”

He gave an offended gasp and put his hand on his chest. His smirk turned wolfish as he walked up to your side. “Is that a challenge, Potter?”

“Define a challenge, I usually just call it confidence.” You quipped and he gave you a once over, you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Okay, minx, I get three tries. If I summon my patronus, you have to go to Hogsmeade with me this Sunday.” He mused and leaned into your space. You smirked and stood taller, wetting your lips before you glanced from his eyes to his lips then back. “Let's hope you prove me wrong then, Riddle.”

He did not. Prove you wrong, that is.

Once you told Riddle about the happy memory clause, he seemed less confident. He wasn't even able to produce sparks, and got increasingly agitated with each failure. Usually, he would pull out a smoke and take a break, and you were curious as to why he didn't.

Every other day before you grew close, you would spy him smoking with his friends in the courtyard, but when you mentioned you hated the smell in the library, he started to hold off until after to smoke.

At least, that's what he told you. He would not tell you the truth, that the moment you told him you hated the smell he chucked the last box he had into the black lake.

Mattheo went through his life without any real care. He only ever experienced fear, anger, and disappointment directed at him. He had his friends, Draco, Theodore, Pansy, even Blaise but none of them were particularly affectionate. Past his playful flirting with Pansy, that he now used as a reference for your friendship, he didn't truly have positive influences on his emotions.

Usually, that would result in him using a poor girl or two to get over whatever he was hung up on. Then, he met you.

Out of everyone, he figured you had reason to hate him most. His father tried to kill your family, his mother killed your parents' friends, his current friends bullied your brother, and he was assumed a death eater before proven one. But that night, he was proven wrong for the first time, when you sat down next to him and smiled. He had never seen something so breathtaking, something that was meant for him.

He had felt for women before, physical and emotional, but never had he experienced you. In all honesty, he never truly looked at you before. You were Harry Potter’s sister, that was enough reason to stay away. Merlin, did he fuck up.

Being friends with you was hardly acceptable, but falling for you? It made him feel all the more pathetic. Knowing he was falling for someone who would never think of dating him. Here he was, making the worst mistakes of his life over and over again.

“Don't get in your head about it.” Your voice called him from his thoughts. He snapped out of it and looked at you. You tilted your head and smiled, hands on your hips in determination. You had taken off your robe, as if to say you meant business. Sleeves rolled up to your elbows and wand brandished. “Just think about something that makes you happy. Happy enough to smile at nothing.”

“Smile at nothing?” He muttered in an amused tone. Breathing you in like fresh air.

“At. Nothing.” You insisted and waved your wand. “My memory is when my dad took me to visit my grandparents' graves.” You hummed and he gave a startled laugh.

“Morbid, darling.”

“Oh, not like that.” You laughed. “I listened to my dad talk about them, like, all the time. Mum too.”

You gestured to the pond and his eyes followed yours. “My dad made it easy, it felt like I was really meeting them, ya know? He talked about me and Harry like we were the most important things in his life. I think I felt his love for them in me too, but towards him. I just felt so lucky.”

Mattheo stared at your awe filled eyes and he gave a small sigh through his nose. It was out of fondness, of course, but he couldn't deny the bit of jealousy that perked up in his chest when she said that. “Yeah.. lucky.” He mumbled.

You looked back at him and your face fell a bit. You had just spent the last two minutes rubbing your fathers love in his face- Merlin. You slowly gave a cautious smile, considering he was still staring at you like you hung the stars. It maked your ears grow hot and your nerves light up.

You reached over to graze his hand, and he seemed to snap out of his trance, slowly, he wrapped his hand around yours, his calloused fingers covering your hand fully. You guys sat like that for a moment, before you raised your wand higher and stepped closer. Leaning your head against his chest and waving it.

Your patronus whipped out of your wand, the fox wiggling its nose in greeting before she ran around you two in circles. You began to laugh at her enthusiasm, and Mattheo even gave a chuckle. Your eyes on your patronus, his eyes on you. How was he going to win anyway? He was making his happiest memories now.

“I think I can try again.” He whispered and you looked up at him, your patronus vanishing behind you as you lost your focus. He was giving you a look you had never seen before, it was almost dangerous, how easy it was for him to make a mess of you.

“You think?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything above a whisper. He pulled you flush against him, taking the dazed look you were giving him as confirmation. You wanted him too. He could have fainted.

“Want to help me?”

“How?”

You got your answer, in the form of his lips pressing so gently against yours. It was electric, your entire face grew hot and you forgot how to breathe for a moment. His hands found a firmer grip on your waist and you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck. You lost yourself in the kiss, letting him lead as he clearly had more experience.

Mattheo couldn't help it, maybe this wouldn't be a mistake. Maybe it was only fair. Being with you made him feel human, like just another boy falling for just another girl. He wanted to feel like this forever. Normal, with you.

He did not try again that night, far too distracted.

You met him like that several more times, dinner study bled into evenings, innocent touches became intimate, and bold teases became hushed whispers in his dorm room. The very dorm room you were coming back from now. Walking back just after curfew.

When you made it back to the common room the first thing you noticed was your own reflection, your hair was frazzled and your uniform was creased. You found yourself wondering how all of that could happen from just a kiss. Followed by a few more. And then some more,, you could completely understand how it happened, actually. You’ll remember it forever.

Once you fixed your appearance, the second thing you noticed was Harry sitting on the couch with a parchment on his lap, next to him was a nervous Ron and a shockingly ridgid Hermione. Harry’s eyes were on you, Ron’s was on his hands, and Hermione was faking reading a book. You pause before you made it to the stairs, slowly walking over to the three. “Hey you guys! What are we up to?”

“Nothing, just been waiting a few hours.” Harry snarked and you narrowed your eyes in confusion. Suddenly you remembered, you had agreed to meet the trio out for Quidditch practice, they had managed to just get enough people for two full teams, guilt filled your chest.

“Shoot, Harry I am so-” Before you could even start to grovel he stood up and Hermione sighed, Ron quickly speaking up.

“Where were you?” Harry demanded.

“Come on, Harry.” Ron tried to interrupt. “At least not in the common room.”

“What?” You whispered and Harry shoved the parchment in your hands. It wasn't just any piece of paper, it was the map. Your fathers map.

Your jaw went slack and you looked up at Harry, Your guilt was quickly overturned by anger. “Were you stalking me!?” You exclaimed and thanked Merlin the common room was empty this late.

“I thought something had happened! Don't deflect! Where were you?!”

“None of your business you slime!”

“You come out of the Slytherin dorms with Voldemort’s son and it's none of my business?” He whisper hissed, You scoffed.

“Yes, none of your business!” You snapped back and threw the map on the ground. “I don't have to answer to you! And his name is Mattheo!” You hissed back and stepped on the charmed paper, dragging it under your heel. “You’d do best to remember that. I'm not a bloody kid, Harry!”

“You're my sister!” He challenged and you scoffed.

“He's a monster! A Slytherin, his parents are horrid, and our-”

“Do not say another word, Harry.” You threatened as you began to stomp off to your dorm and he huffed. Kneeling down to pick up the parchment and dust it off.

“I’ll make it easy for you.” He called over and you turned to face him with a glare. “You break up with him, or I’ll tell father over the summer.”

Your face fell and your heart stopped. Harry had this look about him, like he didn't want to be doing this, but yet, he was.

“You wouldn’t-” You spoke slowly and Harry sighed.

“Two days.”

Those two days were blissful hell. You weren't going to break up with Mattheo, there was no way in muggle hell you were going to willingly give him up.

You did try to talk to him about it, however, several times. At least to warn him why he may have a war hero Auror setting a bounty on his head soon. Your father was protective, far more than you thought was necessary, but he treated everyone as black or white. Usually, everyone was allowed his love and care, that being said, Voldemort was a sore subject.

You would say you were trying your best, but Mattheo was so… Mattheo. He was hard to talk to. A very… physical person? He would complain about how you would be leaving the school in mere days for summer, followed by you being drowned in kisses and wandering hands.

Merlin two days was not enough. Next thing you knew, you were home, in your room, counting the minutes until your mother called you down for dinner.

You began to bite your nails, scrunching up your face when you bit down too far. You sighed as you heard Lily call you and Harry down.

You walked into the hall to see Harry waiting at the top of the staircase for you. He looked regretful, but stern. “Harry-”

“I’ll give you the chance. To tell them yourself.” He mumbled before he walked down the stairs. You mentally prepared yourself and walked as slow as you could down the stairs. Not noticing as Harry glanced at your neck.

When you walked into the dinning room, your heart dropped. Your mother, father, Uncle Moony, and Uncle Padfoot were all at the table. You cursed and clenched your jaw, Harry stared down at his plate and you sat beside him by Remus. You gave your mom a small thank you as she served you. Sirius and your father were making jokes about their Quidditch days after Harry bragged about their most recent win. You relished in the moment, before all hell broke loose.

You asked your father a question about the story, just trying to seem engaged. He lit up at your interest, turning to face you fully. “Well! When you're a beater, there is this unspoken rule that everyone follows and.. what the bloody hell is that?”

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden tone change. “What?” You whispered as you looked around the table, all eyes were on you. You took a shaken breath and bit your cheek. “I-”

“That's a hickey, dad.” Harry muttered and took a bite of his food. Your face fell and all the blood left it.

“A what!?” He exclaimed and fixed his glasses on his face, you quickly covered your collarbone. Sirius gripped his silverware, hard, taking a steady breath. “How old are ya, hun?” He asked and you snapped your attention to him. Stuttering and stammering for a moment.

“I think the better question is, who did that? It's bloody horrific.” Remus muttered and you stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes. “U-uncle Moony!”

“Boys, calm down. She's 16, and James, we talked about this. Our kids will be dating soon, I mean, Harry has that Ginny girl and you never fuss at him.” Lily tried to defend and James scoffed.

“This is hardly the same! I raised him! I don't know a thing about this boy!”

“Or girl.” Remus smirked and James felt his face fall in shock and you groaned, slowly covering your face.

“Remus.” Lily hissed out. “James.” She warned before Sirius spoke up.

“Fine, fine, it's all fine. I mean, what harm could he do? We've taught her everything she needs to know about the world. Probably some Hufflepuff boy.” He tried to dismiss, and Remus, ever the instigator tonight, spoke up again.

“I'd be shocked if a Hufflepuff did that to my nieces neck.” He mumbled and James began to breathe quicker and heavier.

“Right, right, fine. You're being safe, right?” He asked bluntly and you groaned, melting into your seat. “Please, anything but this conversation right now.”

Lily gave a small fond smile and tutted at the boys. “Well honey, you should invite him over this summer break. I'd love to meet him.” She offered and then Harry gave a laugh. You shot him a look. “Don't you dare.”

“Dare. Very much dare, Harry.” Sirius quipped and Harry looked at you with a pursed lip before he sighed and spoke up. “Don't think you'd want him here is all.”

“Harry.” You warned, Lily sighing. “Harry, you stop that right now.”

“What? I'm just being honest, dad and padfoot hate Slytherins.” He mused plainly, and James dropped his silverware.

Sirius gave a laugh, throwing his head back before it slowly died out as he saw your red face. “No-”

“Why does his house matter?” You scoffed. “Not all Slytherins are the same.”

“Yeah, just so happens that he's just the type dad hates.” Harry muttered before he took a sip of water. “Happens to be one he particularly-”

“Harry James Potter!” Lily shouted at him and he had enough sense to seem guilty. He looked down as you tried to sink deeper into your seat.

“I had a feeling.” Remus spoke up and you looked at him in shock. He gave you a side eyed glance. “You had a quidditch jersey in your bag. You don't play and certainly not for Slytherin.”

You looked down at your hands on your lap as your father shouted. “Why didn't you tell us, Remus!”

“This,” He gestured with his fork towards his husband and best friend. “You're terrifying the poor girl. I saw the name, I have to agree with Harry, you'd lose it.”

“What?” James snapped and Lily slammed her hands on the table. “Will you cut it out? All three of you! Do you want her to hide things from us forever? She'll tell us in her own time.”

Sirius groaned and began to pick at his food. “Whatever. As long as it isn't Malfoy.” He huffed and you shyly shook your head. Sirius gave an exaggerated groan of relief. “Thank Merlin.”

“Who did that, sweetheart?” James prodded with a warning glare from Lily. “James.” She whispered and they locked eyes. They held that look before he clicked his tongue.

“I asked you a question, niffler.” James prodded, and Lily slowly closed her eyes, covering her face.

“Dad, I really think-”

“Your dad asked you something.” Remus suddenly spoke up and you looked over at him to meet his eyes. Then it hit you. What he had said moments ago. He knew.

“I-”

“Y/N.” Sirius prodded and Lily gave you a sympathetic look. She could command your father on a lot of things. But never about you and Harry.

“Mattheo. Mattheo Riddle.” Harry suddenly spoke up, and your blood ran cold. You sunk as deep as you could into your seat and Lily gave a squeak of surprise, before covering her mouth. Remus thinned his lips and clenched his jaw.

“No you aren't.” James said simply and you covered your face.

“{Y/N}. No you aren't.”

“Dad, please.” You sniffed, overwhelmed. You sat up and straightened yourself. “He isn't some, bad guy-”

Remus scoffed and Sirius slammed his fist on the table. “His father-!”

“He isn't his father!” You challenged, shooting up from your seat and glaring at your uncle. “You of all people should understand that!”

“Watch your mouth.” James hissed and stood up as well. You scoffed and threw your hands up. “I don't understand! He's done nothing wrong! Nothing to any of us! I get that he's not this image you had in your head of what you wanted for me-”

“Dorcas.. Marlene.” Your mother whispered and your body stiffened. You looked over at your mother and your heart broke at her distress. You reached out and she sniffled, dismissing herself. Your shoulders fell and you looked back to your father.

He was staring at you with a look you've never seen.

“Dad-”

“Your room. Now.”

“Dad! That's not fair in the slightest I-”

“Room!” He boomed and you sniffled before running off. Slamming the dining room door behind you as you walked upstairs.

It would be a long summer.

~~~

Mattheo was missing you. He had been missing you for days now. You said you would write to him, but he didn't get a single letter. He figured it was likely you were busy, you did have a family to distract you after all.

So, he wrote you a letter instead. He didn't want to think about how desperate it sounded, how desperate he was for you. He didn't look over it more than once before he sent it.

Little did he know, the second James heard an owl outside, he shot to his feet and hurried to intercept it. You were ever oblivious, in your parents room as you and Lily shared one of many heartfelt conversations over the brief summer. Your mother was doing her best to understand, but it was trouble, trying to believe he wasn't doing this for some master plan down the line. You both went quiet when you heard your father call you both.

When you walked into the parlor room, you sat down on the couch, You looked at the table in front of you and grimaced, You'd know that parchment anywhere.

There was a long pause, before James spoke up. “The last time I saw this parchment, it was a letter Beatrix Lestrange sent us in our third safe house. Telling us she knew where we were, and that she was coming. Coming to kill your family, {Y/N}.” He leaned forward and picked up the letter and you refused to look him in the eyes.

“It’s nostalgic, really. But these words? ‘I yearn for you. I look at my textbooks from over the years and I wonder what it would be like to have you read them to me’.” He declared. “ ‘You made even the most complex of spells doable. You made things doable’.”

Your mother couldnt help but smile a bit at his words. You grimaced.

“Charming, isnt it? If only the rest of the letter wasnt riddled with innuendo of what this fuck wants to do to my daughter.”

You winced and sighed, the grimace not leaving your face. Mattheo that.. Idiot.

Then,, your mother began to laugh, and James looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “What? Is this funny?”

“Quite.” She smirked. “Sounds like the letters you would send me in school. I used to burn them.”

He scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “That makes me feel fantastic. He’s a bastard like I was in school.”

“Well.” Lily spoke slowly. “Look at us now.”

Lily looked over at you just in time for you to glance up and meet her eyes. She smiled sweetly before she continued. “I think its sweet.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #remus x sirius #remus loves sirius #sirius orion black #remus lupin #sirius being sirius #moony x padfoot #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #slytherin

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fanaticsnail · 4 months ago

Text

"Mine"

Masterlist here

Word count: 7,000+

Synopsis: Upon viewing you and your boss, Doflamingo, get a little too close to one another, Corazon feels the urge to finally state a claim over you. He loves you, and now wants you to understand one thing and one thing only: you belong to him. You are his, completely.

Warnings: Rosinante Corazon X f!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, possessiveness, jealousy, mean dominant Rosinante, drinking alcohol, marking, edging, kissing, sucking, licking, yandere behaviour, pet-names used, Corazon doesn't speak, cum play, bukkake, aftercare, friendly relationship with Doflamingo.

Notes: This gorgeous art was done by @skullfacedlady, who this fic is dedicated to as a gift for her art of my OC Tobiuo and art for my Doflamingo fic 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes'. Let's fuel our obsession with the Donquixote brothers together. Enjoy your dominant Rosinante.

Donquixote Rosinante was not a jealous man. He was cool, calm and collected; level-headed and leading with his head before his heart. There was nothing outside of his control that had him up in arms, fiery, or aggressive about anything.

Silent, a swift word he used to activate his devil-fruit ability at a moment's notice. A moment to create silence in the world around him free of the noise he was plagued by. Silent, was how he found himself now as he watched you laugh alongside his brother at some witless joke whispered down into your ear.

Other than the mission he was undertaking as a spy for the world government, a bid to satiate his brother's horrid temper and ensure he doesn't make too much ruckus, he was completely silent.

Always silent.

Although he was yet to make a move romantically towards you, there was an unspoken understanding and appreciation for one another lingering beneath the surface. The touch of a hand, the passing of a shared cigarette between fingers, the smile he thought was reserved for him and him alone. That same smile he was witnessing being gifted to his older brother without a care in the world.

Doflamingo knew no bounds, there was no limit for him. He was unhinged, ferocious, and brutal. If Rosinante pursued you, Doflamingo could still manage to coax you into his bed with ease should you let him. That thought alone had the younger blonde’s blood boil with a scorched blaze.

He was a marine, a spy, a confidant to the military while being completely sound in his masquerade as a loyal minion for his older brother. The only time his mask of undying loyalty began to slip was at this very moment: witnessing your hands wander over Doflamingo’s arms, the way your eyes darted between focus on each of his, the curl of your pout as you whispered back up at him with a soft smile.

The way he grit his teeth, the growing snarl curling his upper lip, the way his eyes were fixed to your hand tapping his brother's shoulder, all of it revealed the way his soul growled to possess you in this moment. You didn't know his true nature as a marine, nor the fact that he was not as mute as you knew him to be.

To you, he was ‘sweet Corazon, the heart of the Donquixote Pirates you served with, the baby brother to your captain and boss.’ He was sure you didn't see him in a flirtatious light at all, and he was growing more restless at the thought of making you look at him through lust-colored lenses.

He wanted you so desperately, and he remained consumed with intrusive thoughts of claiming you as his own. Where he would usually gulp back his own desires, casting all aside for the sake of the mission from Marine High Command, he could no longer ignore thinking of the way you'd look in the thralls of pleasure wrapped around his cock.

His eyes continued to burn holes of flaming desire against your skin, never once leaving your smile and craving more than anything to be the reason for such radiant beauty. He wants to make you laugh, see you smile, hear what you're offering to his older brother and reciprocate the gentle touches.

And then he wants to make you whimper, whining for him and him alone. He wants to be the source of your pleasure, to have you mewl in bliss while he ruts his painfully hard cock deep within the crevices of your body. He wants to mold you to the shape of him, make you forget any other tryst prior and feel you fall apart and become drunk off what he was giving you.

Doflamingo continued to offer you crude commentary regarding several mannerisms of the troop he had surrounded himself with. The guests at the soiree had all arrived in their best garb, all enjoying the riches and spoils of the Donquixote pirates at their mansion.

All he needs is one moment. A single moment alone with you, away from this crowd, and away from the talons of his older brother. Just a single moment, and you could fall apart on his fingers, lips and cock the way he so desperately wants you to. Just one chance was all he needed, he was sure of it.

While the man who captained you was not interested in you romantically, you were spreading untruths if you said you didn't enjoy his clever analogies and crassness from time to time. He had a mind to invite a few of his regular concubines to the soiree, but opted to take you with him as his date instead.

You, his counselor and battle strategist. He knew he could come to you for all that ailed him. From desiring to know the method of attack to cause the most damage, to perching on the sofa in your office and talking about his mother. He enjoyed your ear, and you enjoyed listening to his thoughts.

The one thing you didn't plan on was sneaking glances at his younger brother once he returned to the family. Rosinante was another creature entirely. Where Doflamingo's loud chirping and chattering was harsh and boisterous, his younger brother was silent and reserved. Rosinante intrigued you, and you couldn't deny yourself the knowledge that your wandering eye had stuck to him almost immediately.

As Doflamingo leaned over to stoop at your ear, you cocked your head up to the side and readied yourself to hear his next lewd remarks.

“Watch now, you see him?” Doflamingo’s lengthy fingers reached up to your chin and gingerly traced along your jaw to turn your gaze. A young man was being regal and respectful with a blushing young woman, extending his hand toward her and inviting her to dance.

“I see a well-mannered young man offering a young debutant a dance,” you shrugged with a small smile. Doflamingo's grin widened further, leaning close enough you could almost feel his tongue against your neck alongside his wine-tainted breath on your skin.

“Well I see a young idiot who got fucked in the ass by their cabin driver moments before entering the ballroom,” he purred, prompting you to laugh a very shocked scoff with your brows raised.

“Doflamingo,” you gasped at him, gently tapping his chest and smiling up at him with lips partially parted, “You shouldn't be talking about young ladies like that. It's not polite.” He raised his wine glass, cocking his head to the side and offering it out to you to clink his rims with it.

As your glasses rang at the contact, you raised the liquid to your lips. Doflamingo’s hand snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to him as you took a tasteful amount of wine between your lips.

“I wasn’t talking about her,” Doflamingo uttered in a nonchalant whisper, prompting you to choke back and burn your throat with the liquid. He chuckled at your fluster, gripping your waist tighter and giving your hip a gentle squeeze.

“So closed-minded,” he clicked his tongue in a flurry of chastising ticks, gently tapping your nose with his index finger, “Such a shame, little lamb.” You closed your eyes and focussed on breathing through your prior choked inhale as Doflamingo soothed his thumb over your hip bone.

“You're incorrigible,” you whisper playfully up at him, prompting him to lean in a low stoop and raise the hand containing his wine glass up to your lips. He balances it within his coiled four fingers and tidies your lip with his thumb.

“You love it,” he whispered huskily down at you, “That's why you accepted my personal invitation to attend by my side, is it not?” You floated your gaze down to the thumb at your lips before shooting him a warning look at his rose-tinted glasses.

“A little unhinged commentary never hurt anybody,” you shrugged as you gently raise your glass to tap with his once more. He purred his hum down at you, squeezing your hip bone again within his talon-like grasp before he released you from his grip.

“And what unhinged commentary do you have on the menu this evening?” he asked you, prompting you to hastily gulp back your glass and place it on the tray of the traveling vendor beside you. Pondering in deep thought, Doflamingo's eyes met with his brother’s intense glare directed at you.

Beneath the shroud of his glasses, he was certain he was safe from notice. Doflamingo assessed his brother's stance and trailed the tension on his shoulders and the possessiveness in his eyes. A cruel smirk drew up on his features just as you turned to face him.

“I heard a rumor that Diamante and Pica like to hold hands while they take a piss-,” you began, only to halt as Doflamingo's deep purr crooned down at you.

“-Are you fucking my baby brother?” you snapped your head up at him and widened both your eyes and lips in response. He didn't bother moving to face you, instead training his eyes on the way Rosinante’s hardened stance leaned against the wall.

“Why would you assume such a ridiculous thing, sir?” you asked him, no room for teasing or earlier playfulness in your tone. He finally tore his eyes away from Rosinante and back towards you.

“Have you the way he's been looking at you?” Doflamingo stooped low, gently raising your chin with the tilt of his index finger. “He looks like he's trying to burn your clothes off with his eyes. Can't say I blame him,” he trails his finger down your neck to your clavicle, teasing at the hem of your formal garb, “You are a gorgeous specimen. Especially in that dress.”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Doflamingo tugged at your shoulder strap and hoisted you closer to him, turning you to shield you with his feathered coat.

“Do you want to fuck my baby brother?” he whispered, his voice low and unwavering. You darted your eyes between his and slowly bobbed your head in a soft nod.

“Oh, how delicious,” he uttered down at you, slowly walking you backwards and caging you against the wall with his hand resting on the tiles beside your head, “How soon do you want to fuck my baby brother?” You gulped, stifling your rising blush and biting your tongue in shame.

“Oh,” he taunted you with his voice shuddering in delight, “Oh, you want him now.” He leaned forward, crouching low and pressing his chest against your own. “Oh, little lamb,” he whispered, his face mere inches from yours, “This is an entertaining discovery. I bet you're soaked through those pretty panties right now, aren't you-?”

“-I don't appreciate being on the receiving end of such crassness, Doflamingo,” you cut him off with your warning tone, managing to stifle your blush and bite back at his taunt. Doflamingo rumbles a dark chuckle through his chest as he gently reaches forward and toys with a loose strand of your hair.

“I know,” he shrugged dismissively, continuing to toy with your hair and plucking at your shoulder straps, “I'll stop in just a moment.” You knit your brows inquisitively at him, clamping your teeth down in a tight snap.

“What are you doing, Doflamingo?” you arch your brow high as his unoccupied hand draws down to enclose around your wrist. He elevated your arm up to circle his shoulders and card through the wispy strands of his blonde hair bordering the scruff of his neck.

Doflamingo looked over his glasses down at you, the ruby hue of his knowing eyes piercing your soul with every passing moment. You took a moment to assess him, knowing truly that he had no interest in you aside from close friendship, but perplexed by this new intimate closeness between you.

“Isn’t it obvious, little lamb?” he cooed down at you, his eyes full of mischief and playfulness, “I have a feeling he’s just as possessive as I am,” he nudged your forehead with his chin to rise your head up further. “Let’s see where it takes him, shall we?”

Doflamingo held you against him for a few moments longer, whispering more shameless commentary while waving away any attendants who offered you food and beverages. You enjoyed his crass words, gently soothing over the back of his neck as you enjoyed the warmth from his almost friendly embrace. He was many things: a tyrant, a villain, a truly evil man with a maniacal laugh and a darkened heart. But most importantly, he was truly your friend.

After several more minutes of being contained beneath the shroud of Doflamingo’s feathered cloak, he released you from hiding within his wings and ventured over to the dancefloor, stealing away a guest and twirling them on the waxed tiles. You spared a glance over to the wall Rosinante was perched on and found an unfamiliar absence in its wake.

You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you at his notable disappearance. Instead of wallowing in this newfound pity, you simply chose to shrug it off and head over to the bar to get yourself another drink. As you called your order over the mahogany benchtop, you felt something make contact with the back of your dress and slip from your hem to fall to the middle of your back.

Turning to your side, you notice first the darkened feathers of a broad coat before the maroon hood of the man beside you. His purple glasses were drawn up the bridge of his nose, his painted lips curled in a grimace as he gestured to the barkeep for two glasses of amber liquid.

His hand remained fixed on the middle of your back in an act of possessive ownership over your form as he paid his Berry for the drinks. You searched his face, your eyes wandering over eyes avoiding yours, the tips of his ears tinted with a soft rise in aggressive blush, and his lips forged against one another in a tight, thin line.

He was angry.

His hand felt heavy and covetous, the grip increasing on the back of your dress while attempting to remain poised and composed. Continuing to monitor his expression from your peripherals, you gently brush the rim of your glass with his in a gesture of gratitude.

“Thank you, Corazon,” you whisper, gently leaning your head to brush against his bicep in a soft bob of familiarity, “It is for me, isn’t it?” He offered you nothing in return: no smile, no look, no acknowledgement at all. Raising his own glass to his lips and gulping it back in a hefty swig, he sighed out a silent breath at the burning sting of alcohol. Placing the glass on the countertop, he finally turned to you with his eyes darkened and glaring through his eyelashes as you sipped at your drink.

His hands clapped over your own on the glass, pulling your hand towards his face and turning your glass and placing his lips over the stain left on the rim of your glass from your lip paint. Without tearing his eyes away from yours, he gulped down the rest of your liquid with his lips casting over your own mark: sharing a kiss without your lips ever meeting.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, his gaze hypnotizing you with the tension falling from his shoulders in a possessive rage. Releasing your hand and back, he fished out his cigarette carton and flintlock lighter, his eyes held a daring challenge in them before he turned and made his way towards the heavy doors. Thrusting them open, his intentional and weighty steps feeling foreign in comparison to his usual light footedness.

Quickly darting your eyes over to the dancefloor, you notice Doflamingo’s gaze catch yours. Shooting you a pouting mock-kiss, he waved you on with his blessing to leave the space unchaperoned by him. You sucked your lip into your mouth and sheepishly trailed after Corazon with your head hanging low to shroud your bashfulness.

The wind hit your face as the setting sun fled over the coastal line of the Dessrossian sea. The blue of the moonlight rose the shadowy corners of the city and made way for the hum of low lamplight.

Sitting on the seastone wall, legs crossed at the knees and gazing up into the night sky sat Rosinante inhaling his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, his chest seemed to deflate in somber yearning. His smoky breath picked up in a swirl on the wind that caressed his skin and blew at his golden hair beneath the red signature hat. His feathered cloak laid on the top of the barrier beside him, the feathers rustling with the breeze.

Your heart began to flitter with an anxiousness and adrenaline spike you had not yet met its equal. The need to draw him into your arms, take him away from all the frivolity, and press sweetness against his lips with your own had become too much. The way his lips parted with every exhale, the danger and mystery held within his expression propelled your chest to set ablaze. The desire to declare your intentions then and there, claim his lips and body with yours grew exponentially.

Hissing a final shaky breath through your teeth, you halt your inhibitions and set to declare your infatuation with the younger Donquixote brother. Your feet marched towards him, no longer caring that your desperation for him was exposed beneath your steely expression. As you stood before him, he upturned his head and gazed down his nose at you.

“Corazon?” your whisper was all the warning you managed to choke out before your hands sought his cheeks and propelled you into his arms. He parted his knees to take you between them, immediately circling his arms around your smaller frame and clasping the back of your dress into heaping fistfuls.

Lips finally meeting, you tentatively pressed your confession into his skin with a gentle kiss. A shocked squeak left your mouth and was swallowed by his, as his own kiss deviated from your prior sweetness. There was no softness in his kiss, the sweet Corazon you so desperately yearned for had been replaced by another beast entirely.

Corazon’s lips were hungry, consuming your desire and feasting on the whimpers you called to him with. His hands forced your back to arch against his chest, the tilt of his head and circling of his chin mouthing at you set the pace of the kiss and grew your need for him. A sense of urgency was felt in his kiss, the need to state his claim over you rising with his wild lust.

Pulling away from your lips, he gazed into your eyes to search for any uncertainty within. Both heavily panting and breathless, you felt the possessiveness Doflamingo had warned you about burn into his aura. His smudged lips were parted, eyes glassy with blown pupils. He released his right hand from your dress and drew it up to his face.

Tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, he reached up his thumb and claimed a portion of red paint from his cheek on the rounded pad. Immediately thrust his hand forward, he held your left breast in his much larger four fingers while smearing the paint within your cleavage. A choked gasp fled from you as he focussed his attention onto your breast, molding the flesh beneath his palm.

Huffing through a laugh, he tore his eyes from your breasts and arched his brow up at you with a knowing smirk playing on his face. You knit your brows together in puzzlement before looking down at your chest. Lying central over your heart, your eyes widened at the paint over your exposed flesh. A single word was depicted: no questions, no inhibitions, and no care for any passerby to see the mess he had made on your skin. Corazon’s unwavering gaze never left you as you read over his word.

“Mine.”

A gasp was the only sound he allowed to leave you before he circled his arms over your waist and intentionally fell backwards over the wall, taking you with him as you fell. A hand clapped over your lips to stifle a soft yelp of shock, Corazon fell onto his back with a thud. As soon as he landed, he gave you no time to process the change in position as he replaced his palm with his lips once more.

In a swift movement, he switched your positions and placed your back on the plush grass bordering the elevated pier between the ocean shore and the Dressrosian castle. Your shocked whimper was claimed by Corazon as his lips collected yours with passion and vigor. There was no hesitancy in his lips, no wavering in his movements, nor stalling his lust for you.

You made him jealous in the ballroom with his brother, the jealousy unwarranted due to the fact he considered his love to be unrequited. As soon as you placed your lips on his, all of his withheld emotions and prior resignation all but fled him. He was not going to let you go. You were his, and his possessive tendencies revealed themselves to you by each time he drew down his lips to ravish you.

Trailing his lips and teeth down to your cheek and the tip of your chin, he mouthed at your neck and pressed kisses at your rapidly beating pulse point. Sucking a heart-shaped mark into your skin, your back arched as his hands drew up over your breasts and toyed with your peaked buds. You let out a yelp as he heaped the dress within his balled fists, splitting the material of the dress Doflamingo purchased for you, and rendering it unsalvageable.

Leaving you no time to protest, his lips found one of your puckered nipples and rolled it with his tongue. His other hand toyed with your unoccupied breast, matching momentum and maneuverability he was pressing into you with his lips. You drew up your hands to clap one over your lips, while the other found the top of Corazon’s head and scrunched around the red material of his hat.

Removing his lips from your chest while continuing to pinch your nipple, he sought out your consent to continue ravishing you. His eyes seemed almost innocent, his head cocking to the side as his brows arched in the center of his forehead. His lips held the sweet smile you knew and loved him for, a vast contrast to the criminally unashamed touch he was teasing you with.

“You-... ah-... asking for my consent to continue?” you moaned as he joined his unoccupied hand to squeeze at the flesh his lips were occupied with prior. He shook his head before his lips kissed above his smudged writing, drawing your attention to the mark he made prior.

“You-... nnngh-... You asking for-... fuck, Corazon-,” he placed his knee between your legs, making contact with the damp material of your soaked panties and grinding it up against you. You felt the rumble of his soundless chuckle purr and vibrate against your skin, his lips curling into a smile as he continued to mouth at your skin.

Searching your rapidly clouding mind for any question you had to form on his wordless behalf, you found revelation just as his fingers began to snake down below your panties and gather your slick atop his considerably larger fingers. Dipping his middle and unity finger in a coaxing grind against your entrance, you yanked his head up to gaze back into your eyes and release your skin from his relentless attack of his urgent kisses.

“Corazon, you-... you want to claim me as yours, don’t you?” you gasped as his lips halted their descent and his eyes darted back up to meet yours. His hazelnut orbs burn into you with his silent unwavering desire, daring you to deny him through his lengthy eyelashes. At that moment, that split motion and hardened intensity, you knew within your soul that you belonged to him and him alone.

There was no other, no friend nor foe that poured into your mind other than your sweet Corazon. He owned you in every sense of the word. Your heart, your mind, your spirit was all his. Always had been, and will always ever be. Unbreaking in his heavy eye contact, he prowled back up towards you and caged your head between his lowered elbows. Testing you with his eyes, he swayed his head slowly from side to side, hovering his lips above yours as you chased him.

“Say it,” his lips motioned, his breath tingling your skin where his vocal fry never spilled, “Say it.” You whined, pouting and avoiding his eyes while your body bucked up involuntarily to brush against his thigh.

Your open dress caused the wind to prick up and caress your skin with its icy breeze: a drastic contrast between the hot body trapping you beneath him. Corazon’s eyes never left yours, ablaze with the desire to see you admit defeat and title him as yours, and yours alone. Gazing down his nose at you, his tongue soundlessly clicked a few more times in daring you to admit that key phrase that granted him the pleasure of enjoying you exclusively.

“Yours,” you managed to gasp out, your back arching as your head drew up to seek his out, “I’m yours, Corazon.” He angled his chin, clicking his tongue while urging you to cry out for him more. Gently dragging his fingers backwards and forwards along your slit, he tentatively bullied his lengthy digits into your body and hooked them up to expertly seek out the underside of your clit and massage it with his thick fingers.

“Fuck, I’m yours,” you curse at him, his brows arching up as he continued to bully his fingers into you, collecting your slick on his middle and unity fingers while his thumb tapped at your clit. Roughly propelling you closer to ecstasy, he held you hostage against your release: the bob and contraction of your walls squeezing against his digits halting his movements and edging you away from your ignition.

Your hands sought out his cheeks, roughly bringing his face towards you and wordlessly asking for his kiss. He denied you, holding his head away from your lips and teasing you with his eyes. Desperation clawed at you, forcing you to buck up against his hand to chase your high, only to be championed away from eruption by the skilled ministrations of the blonde above you. You keened for him, trying to gather more of him as he held off his lips and your approaching climax with expert precision.

“What? What do you want me to say?” you desperately gasped for him. He arched his brow, continuing to hold your bliss at ransom until you declared what he was searching for. He leaned down, his bottom lip gently brushing with yours before pulling away and focussing his thumb against your clit. Arching your back, you grabbed at his wrist channeling its ministrations against your hyper-sensitive body to draw more of him against you.

“Corazon, please,” you whimpered, tears beginning to gather in your eyes, “I only ever want to be yours. Only yours.” You reached your hands up to his stomach, snaking your digits across his abdomen and desperately reaching for the hemline of his pants. As soon as he felt your fingers slip beneath the surface, he pulled his hand away from your dripping pussy and removed your hands immediately from his body.

Clasping your wrists above your head in a single girthy hand, Corazon used his other to unbutton the front of his pants before returning it to your needy pussy. Each touch was highly sensitive, your entrance contracting around an absent touch, and your voice whined for him to let you finish.

“Please. Please, Corazon!” you sobbed, arching your back and squirming against his hand pinning yours above your head. “What do you want? What do you want? Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want.”

Truthfully, Corazon didn't know what he wanted. He enjoyed this new shift in power: watching you helplessly squirming to seek out more of his touch against you, seeing the desperation in your eyes, hearing the hopelessness in your soft cries. You were experiencing all of the emotions he felt moments prior while his heart was held at ransom watching you with his brother.

He wanted to see you cry, hear you whine, feel you sniffle as you keened for him; helpless to the pleasure he was desperately withholding from you. He was so tired of being kind and sweet to you, always kind and sweet to you.

No, he wanted to be mean.

His unwavering gaze darkened as he pierced you with his eyes, the smudge of his former mark on your chest spreading through the dewy desperation of your glistening perspiration. You had never looked so beautiful to him, bare for any passerby to witness if they truly focussed on you. Each part of you was perfect to him, every sucked breath, whimper, and sniffle.

After spending a moment to take you all in, he had no choice but to see you unravel by his touch. A show just for him, with you as the star performer.

Thumb pressed against your swollen pearl, he finally focussed his entire attention on coaxing you from that edge by pistoning his hand in and out, adding his index finger to the stretch and massaging your g-spot. Scissoring his fingers, dancing his digits expertly on your most sensitive and desperate nerves, your eyes finally ignite with the white of euphoric lightning.

“O-Oh, fuck!” you yelped, feeling how tightly wound you were, his hands rapidly beckoned your ecstasy like a musician toying with their specialist instrument. You bit your lip to stifle your whimpers, your vision blurring beneath your glassy orbs and light bursting behind your eyes.

Corazon's jaw shuddered as he felt your body shake and tremble beneath him. His eyes never left your face as he watched your eyes clamp shut and contort in ecstacy. Back arching, hips rocking to match his pace, your body danced hypnotically as you rode through your high. Your slick gushed in his hands, christening him with your essence as he ceased his relentless momentum.

“Corazon,” you pant with your chest heaving as your lungs expanded. Removing his lengthy digits from your pussy, he teased at your entrance, collected a sample of your essence and gripped his newly exposed cock. Leaning up onto your elbows, you were enchanted by his hand pistoning his shaft, giving his knob a gentle squeeze while lubricating it with your slick.

Leaning back to sit on his calves, he beckoned you over with a wiggle of his finger. As you attempted to sit, the exertion from the intensity of your euphoria prevented you from rising. Falling back onto the grass, Corazon clicked his tongue at you before biting back a rising smirk.

He was absolutely smitten with the fact that just his hands had left you feeling like an oversensitive mess trembling on the ground. His patience was never ending, enjoying the show of how helpless you looked while catching your breath. Instead of chastising you for being unable to move, he shuffled forward, staining his knees with the green tint of the plush grass.

Bringing himself down to cage your body beneath his, he tilted his head with a playful smile drawing up his lips. A soft whine fled from your lips as you felt him line the tip of his cock against your slit. Dragging the blunt tip over your entrance up to your sensitive clit had your body trembling from the heightened oversensitivity.

“Corazon,” your whispered cry for him had his eyes widening and pupils dilating to a blown-out eclipse of those brown eyes you had grown to love. The man who caged you beneath him resembled a beast: wild with desire and consumed by the need for satisfaction.

His sweet smile was now mimicking a grimace, the resemblement to his older brother now understandable by the curl of his lips. Caging your waist within his two hands with ease, he elevated your hips from the ground as he sat on his calves. A squeak of shock fled from your lips, the gentle caress of grass searing against your shoulders and pricking your skin.

Lining up his tip fully with your slit, his wrists snapped you down as if you weighed nothing, sinking his blushing cockhead within your drooling cunt immediately. Crying out at the stinging stretch, you thrust your hands behind you and anchored yourself against the earth by gripping the grass beside your head.

At the soft cry, Rosinante stilled. His discipline holding by a thread as his eyes take you in. Seeing that deep furrow on your face as you adjust to his great size has him rocking you gently to test out your resolve. Snapping your eyes up at him, you mirror his unhinged smirk and attempt to peer up at him with your shoulders bearing your weight.

“If you're going to fuck me, fuck me,” you taunt him, your eyelashes fluttering innocently at him, “I can take it. I'm yours.” Your smirk turns soft, the dewy sweat smearing the lettering written over your chest, and heaving with every inhale of breath. On seeing the red paint etched over your skin, his blood boiled like a drop of water into a crackling pot of hot oil. That sizzling danger igniting fire within his soul had his hips immediately rock forward and bury his entire length into your slick heat.

Eliciting a strangled cry of shock at the intrusion, your voice caught itself in your larynx as your jaw fell slack. Eyes wide, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, smile ghosting at the corners of your lips, your back bowed as the crown of your head flew back to the ground. His cock pressed against your cervix, pulsating its engorged mass deep within your body. Not a single regret cascaded over your mind at the first rock of your much smaller body over his giant steely cock.

As if only testing your resolve, his thrusts remained shallow: his cock buried into you and only withdrawing a single inch to press back in. Each gasp from your lips mirrored the flutter of your walls contracting around him, drawing him forward and prompting him to growl deep within the chasms of his chest.

Nodding to him, you slapped his large hands circling your waist and gestures to his cock with your digits.

“C'mon, Corazon,” you tease him, angling your head to the side and peering at the corner of your eyes and grinning from ear to ear, “You call this fucking me-! Ahh-!”

The switch flicked, his motions throwing and jolting your body with each heavy thrust. You were a limp doll in his hands, your much smaller frame a pretty cocksleeve for his looming body towering over you. He pumped his cock into your cunt, using your pussy as a channel for his lust.

His belt jingled and rustled as his pants slunk to his knees, your dress collecting the stain of green from the grass beneath you. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, Corazon panted heavy breaths with his unsyncopated rhythm. Each in-thrust hit the sensitive convex of your g-spot before brushing past and bullying your cervix. Hit blunt tip hit that marker within your body that had you scream in ecstasy, lips parting and drool falling from the corners of your lips.

Corazon cracked open his eyes and found himself lost in the vision of you splayed out beneath him. Just from meeting his eyes on your body; clothes ruined, back arching, eyes blown with lust, and breath catching in sweet, choked, little mewls, he felt himself almost topple over that cliff of bliss. Your pussy fluttered around him, coaxing a soundless cry to flee from his lips while his hips rutt into your cunt recklessly.

The coil within your abdomen swelled before binding together in a woven ring. You could barely form a cohesive word. Your arms, along with the rest of you, remained unresponsive to your mind as you felt your release almost snap within you.

On queue, Rosinante moved one of his hands so his thumb met your clit while the remaining four circled your hips. The pad of his larger digit gently swirled your clit in messy circles, his desperation to feel you cum against his cock driving him to the brink of reckless insanity. As the larger blonde continued to rutt and buck into you while dragging your smaller frame against his, the crude slaps and sloppy momentum had lightning flash behind your eyes.

“C-Co-! Nghhmn-, Cora-!” your choked whimper was caught on your tongue as your body gave in to the call of your release. Your back bowed as you met your crest, the final crescendo being conducted within the symphony of your bodies joining as one. Your pussy gushed against his cock, a creamy ring forming at his base as you contracted around him. Each pulse and wave of your fluttering walls had Corazon crying soundlessly while biting his cheeks to ground himself from toppling immediately after you. Focussing on you first, he continued holding the pace and fucking you through your bliss.

Falling away from that edge and floating back to the surface, you felt Corazon withdraw his cock from your oversensitive pussy with a rough 'pop'. Gently falling your body to the ground with his larger left hand, his right immediately circled his cock and began pumping the thick shaft over your body. His eyelids fluttered as his glassy orbs rolled back, his lips soundlessly uttering a single word once his gaze pierced yours.

“Mine.”

At that, his cock leaked in hot spurts, dousing your stomach and breasts in scorching splashes. You could almost feel his chest vibrating with the sounds he couldn't release verbally, his lips repeating several mouthed curses and iterations of your name. His cock twitched in his palm as he rode his high over your body.

You were mesmerized in the way he moved. His wrist slightly curled it's way inwards with every instroke, uncoiling on the way out, his pearlescent seed finally coating the red mark he wrote against your skin with his lip paint. He drank in your sight: lips parted, clothes torn, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, panting chest, and covered in ropes of his cum.

Riding through his high, he collapsed over you. His hands moved to cage you beneath him, knees on either side of your hips as his breath tickled your face. His lips found your cheek, moving in that single word repetitively.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he nipped at your jaw, his tongue darting out and dragging down your neck towards your pulse. You whined at the movement, already feeling oversensitive from the two climaxes in sequence. Rosinante’s chest wiggled with his soundless chuckle, rolling back onto his knees and gawking at you.

You were perfect.

Gently reaching up to the beam beside him, he collected his feather coat and laid it beside you. His motions were gentle, intentional, and almost sweet in comparison to his prior roughness. He hooked his arm beneath your legs, the other splayed on your upper back as he moved you onto the dark quills of inky feathers. Without a care to the mess he made of you, he curled in the corners and swaddled you within the larger back and sleeves.

“Corazon…?” you whispered after him, his eyes finding yours and granting you a soft smile while continuing to gather you into his material nest. “What are you-?”

He reached forward, touching your lips with his fingers before gesturing up to the manor suite his bedroom door was adjoined. Satisfied with you safely tucked within the feathery quills of his lengthy coat, his eyes widened briefly in shock before his features softened all together.

Firstly tucking his cock back into his pants, he redid his belt before fixing his shirt. You giggled at his silliness, watching each motion with interest while your body began to ache with the overexertion of taking his mass within your body. You attempted to move, wincing as you felt the sting of his bruising kisses and harsh movement against your body.

At the soft hiss, Rosinante surged forward, caressing your cheek and checking you over.

“I'm alright, Corazon,” you whisper with a soft smile, “Just a little achy. I'll be fine. I'm-.”

Your words halt as something shrouds your eyes, warming your head, and eclipsing you with comfort. Eyes fluttering shut, you welcome the embrace of Corazon’s soft hat crowning your hair, the hearts dangling down on your chest and dancing on your skin. The feeling of his arms hooking beneath your legs once more returned, this time beneath the quills of his feathered cloak.

Looking up at him as he hoisted you into the air, the sun warmed his skin with a soft pink. The orange and red mixing with the hues of purple over the Dressrosian horizon as he raised to full height. His hazelnut eyes fell over your face, his eyelashes fluttering and orbs darting their focus within your own.

“Mine.”

He mouthed the words once more before walking with you cradled against himself towards his quarters. The gentle touch soothed your skin, the safety of his arms barricading you in his sweet hold as he ushered you to his room with a soft skip in his step.

You truly felt it: mind, body, spirit, and soul. You were his. Truly, his.

You belonged to Donquixote “Corazon” Rosinante.

The only thoughts that withheld you from submitting completely was the knowing smile Doflamingo shot you from the double-arched doors over Rosinante’s shoulder. That unhinged grin, filled with amusement had you dreading the way you were likely going to give your boss a play by play over what had just occurred between you and his younger brother.

For now, there was this: a man who was nuzzling against your neck, inhaling your scent, and attacking your cheek with soft kisses. The same man who coated your body in a spray of his cum, staining you and marking you as his. The man who had you climax so hard you saw each star littering the sky with renewed vibrancy.

The man who held your heart completely.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane

#one piece #x reader #moots 🤝 mooting #skullfaced snail #rosinante #Donquixote Rosinante #donquixote corazon #rosinante corazon #rosinante x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece corazon #corazon x reader #op corazon #op rosinante #gift swapping #x f!reader #corazon

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cuntressgoingdigital · 28 days ago

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BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse.

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room.

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs.

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far.

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan.

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis.

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed.

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough.

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!”

abby knew that voice.

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk.

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner.

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk.

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her.

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?”

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.”

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck.

she didn’t even ask for your name.

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you.

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction.

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable.

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual.

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.”

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush.

“hey!”

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out.

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?”

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach.

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?”

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations.

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was.

but, that wasn’t your business.

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.”

god, you were the cutest thing.

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class.

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise.

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far.

and really pretty.

like, really pretty.

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately.

abby a.: is this good?

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account.

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check.

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance.

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster.

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated.

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be.

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door.

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz.

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you.

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name.

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car.

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.”

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder.

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.”

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?”

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus.

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port.

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs.

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.”

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it.

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.”

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table.

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology.

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you.

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets.

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar.

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder.

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded.

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.”

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.”

“i can be just friends with a girl!”

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby).

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts.

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be.

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week.

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’.

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you.

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up.

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her.

she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand.

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to.

you always got the passenger princess treatment.

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift.

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings.

“you okay, babe?”

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that.

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth.

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over.

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.”

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe.

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room.

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?”

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time.

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle.

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t.

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.”

finally, abby could exhale.

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?”

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.”

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased.

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?”

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity.

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.”

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours.

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest.

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap.

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss.

“is that okay?”

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.”

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips.

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her.

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you.

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side.

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones.

“sort of. a while ago.”

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart.

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress.

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone.

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #nisa writes #leaving it open ended so i have an excuse to write rugby captain abby #i will be terrorizing yall with more college au #idk i kinda hate this but i wrote it so its getting posted #divider by cafekitsune

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galamalion · 6 months ago

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𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike.

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight.

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you. “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become.

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

#chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh x reader #mdni

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jaylver · 2 years ago

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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.

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mattyriddlesbitch · 8 months ago

Note

Can I get some orgasm denial w Enzo please? Or even just Enzo being a munch :)

Enzo is a huge much and I stand by that. Thank you so much for requesting him. <3

Listen

Lorenzo Berkshire x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(Female receiving) fingering, edging, orgasm denial, cussing.

18+ Minors DNI!

Enzo's favorite place in the world is between your thighs. Having a bad day? Being in between your thighs would fix it. Got into a dumb argument with his friends and needs to cool down? Your thighs make good earmuffs. Having a good day and wants to end it on a high note? Your legs spread for him is the best way.

Today was a bad day. Horrid. He was running late in the morning, Mattheo was in a pissed off mood and taking it out on his friends, he completely forgot about an assignment. So he came straight to your dorm once he knew you'd be there.

Now, here you were, panties thrown somewhere in your room with your skirt bunched up as you sat on your desk chair, Enzo kneeling between your thighs. Your hands were in his hair and he was just licking and sucking at your poor sweet cunt like he hadn't eaten in years.

“Enzo.” You whined his name. The sight was so hot.

“Don't you dare fucking cum.” He said harshly. He was definitely more aggressive than usual. Not that you were complaining.

“Please, I'm so close.” You pleaded, throwing your head back.

“No. If you cum, I won't touch you for a week.” He said and you knew he wouldn't follow through with it, but you still tried to obey.

You cried out and focused on trying not to cum, but it was so hard with the way he was sucking at your clit. Despite his harsh tone and how aggressively he was eating you out, his hands were rubbing soothingly on your thighs and hips.

“Shit, I'm gonna cum, Enzo, please.” You said, legs shaking around his head as you moaned.

He pulled back slightly. “No, I told you not to. Can't you be a good girl?”

You whined from the loss of his mouth and and looked back at him. “I can be a good girl. Please.” You begged, your hips moving subconsciously to try to find some friction.

“You gotta listen then, sunshine.” He said sweetly.

“I can. I can listen.” You nodded.

“You better. Or I have to punish you. Do you want that?” He asked, moving his hand up to gently massage your breasts.

“No, I don't want that.” You pouted, whimpering slightly from his touch.

“Good, I don't wanna punish you either, angel. Just relax and look pretty for me, yeah?” He said and connected his mouth with your pussy again.

You moaned, watching him as he licked at your pussy again. He pushed two fingers in you and looked up at you. He thought you were the hottest thing in the world. You looked perfect as you moaned and cried out his name as he ate you out.

“Enzo, please, please, please.” You begged as you threw your head back, legs trying to close on his head from how close you were again.

“No, hold it.” He was back to his cold tone, lapping at your pussy as his fingers were hitting inside you perfectly. He used his free hand to wrap around one thigh to keep your legs spread for him.

“I can't, please.” You cried out, legs starting to shake.

“No.” He gave your thigh a harsh slap and it made you jolt, yelping from the pain. “Be good.” He rubbed over the slap sweetly in contrast as he pulled back again. You tried using the moment to catch your breath and say something again, but he was back on you again after just a moment, waiting for the orgasm to dwindle down before trying to build it right back up.

“Fuck, Enzo. So good.” You moaned above him, looking back down at him.

He was watching you again, wanting to see every small reaction to his touch. He felt so fucking good, the way his tongue was playing with your clit and the way his fingers were thrusting in and out of you. Your orgasm was building quickly again.

“Enzo, please.”

“Not yet.” He said, not letting up at all.

Your eyes rolled back as your head fell back against the chair. Desperate, broken moans escaped your lips as you held tightly to his hair. It was all you could do to obey. You desperately needed to cum, you were right on that edge.

“Please.” You sobbed. “I can't. I need-Enzo, please.”

“You're so greedy. Cum then. Wanna see you cum on my face.” He said before sucking on your clit.

You came hard, trembling, crying, screaming his name. It was so fucking hot to Enzo. He helped you ride out your orgasm, soothing you with his free hand.

You were trying to catch your breath as your body went limp in the chair. He gently removed his finger as he soothed you and praised you.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #lorenzo berkshire x reader smut #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you

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cornerstoreclown · 2 months ago

Note

So happy to see you’re back, we missed you!🫶

How about reader cleaning those nasty teeth for him? Given he’d allowed it-😉

Consider it done. Gender neutral reader x Art, trying to brush this man's teeth.

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

This is the third time he’s shoved you off his lap. For the past five minutes, you’ve been fighting the Miles County Clown with sheer determination, spite, and a toothbrush. Who was winning at this point, you weren’t sure. What started off as a simple ambush when he was sitting on the couch watching your TV became a failed plan within seconds the very instant he caught wind of what you were trying to accomplish.

There were three truths that could coexist peacefully:

The first one was that you loved this stupid clown. The second truth was that he was fucking disgusting and often smelled like he came out of the goddamn city sewers, and god have mercy on your soul if you caught a whiff of his breath after he finished eating something–or someone. And the third truth follows on the tails of the second one…

Which is that your standards are absolute dogshit. The bar is in hell! Literally in this case, considering WHO you’re dealing with.

Absolutely no way in hell that anyone else in the entire world would be able to get away with this. No one. They’d get a free lobotomy with how far that toothbrush would be jammed up their nose. You’re actually surprised that he’s not yet gotten up out of his seat, but you did catch him at a time where one of his favorite shows was on. That was all a part of your grand scheme.

You’re back in his lap again, toothbrush with a little bit of toothpaste still somehow miraculously attached to the bristles.

He moves his head away from you again, like a defiant child, and he’s starting to wear down your patience and piss you off.

“Art.” You firmly tell him, trying to get this brush near his face, and so far, the closest you’ve gotten is within a few inches of his mouth. You use your free hand to try and tilt his head back to keep him from moving, leaving him to respond in turn with a scowl, baring his teeth in the form of a threat.

Which was fine for you.

With enough dexterity, you manage to get a few brushes in on the top row of his teeth, feeling a bit of satisfaction until he elbows you in the face and then pushes your head away so you can’t see.

“Fucker!” You say through grit teeth. “Art, come ON! Let me HELP you!”

You don’t feel the pain when he hits you in the face. Anger and frustration run deep in your veins now, guided by nothing but pure adrenaline as you’re both locked in battle with each other, pushing at the other. You both look like siblings at this point. That’s about how it fucking felt.

You fight against him pushing your head away, and catch a glimpse of a horrid sight–

His gums are bleeding.

His teeth are coated in blood.

You knew that his oral hygiene was bad, but you didn’t know how bad, and it becomes apparent to you that everything was way worse than you thought.

Then he stuns you, zigging when you were expecting him to zag as he switches it up, grabbing your wrists and staring you right in the face, his snarl twisting into a smile. You don’t get a chance to react.

Well, you sort of did.

“Art–”

You’re cut off as he presses his lips to yours, forcefully kissing you and sloppily giving you the nastiest fucking makeout ever. His tongue pushes past your mouth and goes in, shamelessly sharing whatever taste he had leftover from the mystery dinner he ate the night before, but not without the sharp taste of iron from his bleeding gums first. You gag, the pungent taste hitting your tongue, leaving you to immediately try to back up off of him, and he helps you further by once again shoving you off, this time flinging you to the floor at the foot of the couch.

The toothbrush, your so-called weapon of the day, has been dropped and rolled away from where you landed flat on your back.

Art wasn’t having it. The show he had been hoping to watch tonight? Ruined, as he gets up off the couch and leaves you on the ground. He had half a mind to kick you in the side on the way out.

You’ll just have to try again some other time. Maybe.

#art the clown #terrifier #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #x reader #I DIDNT PROOFREAD THIS I NEVER PROOFREAD ANYTHING THESE DAYS #i post and then freak out about any errors later and fix them #cornerstore asks #cornerstore musings

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utterlyotterlyx · 7 months ago

Text

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Eleven

Summary - Azriel grapples with the weight of his guilt whilst you receive a visitor, and in Autumn, a meeting changes the entire trajectory of your fate.

Warnings - trauma, ptsd, betrayal, morally grey antics, friendship fluff, depression, thoughts of death, some hope (finally!)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

There was a little nagging voice in his head, perhaps the shadow that adored you the most, telling him that he had allowed it to go too far.

Azriel lay atop the cream comforter of the bedspread that belonged to the woman he truly thought he would spend the rest of his life with if her brother would allow it. The pillows still held the faint smell of her, currents of the most intoxicating scent he had ever encountered flowing through him with every medial turn of the head.

He couldn't be there when Rhys took you, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from unsheathing the murderous tool that you often likened to a toothpick to get a rise out of him.

The bargain tattoo strained and withered around his bicep, contracting the muscle and making him regret every single choice he had made that got him to where he was. Laying on your bed, ready to tear the pillows apart just so he could hold the feathers drenched in the scent of you.

Nesta had left to follow you into a world of the unknown because of her unwavering loyalty to you, so had Elain and Lucien; Cassian was a mere shell of his former glory, Mor rarely spoke to anyone and often locked herself away with Amren, and Feyre, well, Azriel hadn't seen Feyre in a couple of weeks, nor Nyx.

Feyre had moved herself and Nyx to the House of Wind to escape Rhys, to put some space between them just in case one of them did something they would most probably regret. The night Rhys had taken you to The Prison was the night he permanently moved back into the River House, Feyre couldn't allow Nyx to grow up with the example of hatred that ran through his fathers veins.

The Prison.

Azriel could almost picture it. The cell lined with onyx stone to contain you, he could almost smell your fear and sadness, he could almost hear your heart cleaving into a thousand pieces. The Prison was a horrid place made for horrid creatures, and you certainly were not one of them. It was all his fault, he shouldn't have told Rhys that he witnessed Tamlin and Helion enter the Autumn Court, but if he hid it and Rhys found out then his entire façade would be blown and you would never get the chance to be free.

Scratches lined the palms and backs of his hands, some fully healed and others freshly scabbed over from his incessant self-mutilation brought on by his guilt. Azriel could only imagine how broken you were, that awful hum that you sang into the night still haunted his nightmares to the point where he refused to sleep, he refused to find comfort when you were on the verge of giving up entirely.

It was odd, how Autumn had moulded itself into your bones, your scent now tinged with hints of pine and mulled wine, of warm rain on the sun-kissed grass. It made him wonder how blind Rhys truly was if he couldn't tell that his sister had found her mate, and that that mate was none other than Eris Vanserra. It was obvious, the longing glances beyond the window, the void lingering in your eyes, the way your hand would occasionally drift over your heart like something was pulling at it.

The continent was safe from war thanks to your sacrifice, but you hadn't done it for the continent, you had done it for your family. A family that no longer had a place for him.

Azriel had told himself that it was fine, he couldn't blame you for hating him if you did, he deserved it, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what he needed to do.

It was silly of Nesta to believe that he hadn't seen what she had seen that day Under The Mountain, he had allowed her to think that she had found the book when they had split up, knowing that she would smuggle the tome back into Velaris and hide it. That evil was better hidden by her than it ever would be by him. Though, Azriel didn't account for Nesta hiding it so well; he had practically turned her room upside down looking for it to no avail. All he had found were a few of her raunchy novels that she usually never let out of her sight, but she had left them all behind when she had left the Night Court to join your side.

Azriel wished he had done the same, maybe things would have been different between the two of you if he had.

But you needed someone on the inside, even if it did feel like all of the odds were against you.

Rhys was stupid enough to believe it much to Azriel's pallid joy, the High Lord had no one to turn to, the rest of his Inner Circle had labelled his actions as monstrous to his face and refused to aid him further. Azriel was all he had left, and he was clinging to the Shadowsinger like the last patch of snow to the earth just before the Spring sun inhaled it.

It was too risky to tell you, everything you felt had to be real, Rhys' attention was solely on you and your behaviour and if that changed even a little bit then you would not survive his wrath, not when you had no power to protect yourself with.

Whisperings behind closed doors told Azriel what he already knew, that his family was frantically hatching a plan to get you out of Velaris and back into the safety of the Autumn Court. No matter the cost. And, in his own way, Azriel would make sure that they succeeded.

Maniacal laughter haunted what little sleep the island had tried to gift to you.

That along with the faint dripping of rain was all you could hear, the inner voice that usually caressed your mind had left long ago, and you weren't sure if it would ever return. The prisoners were relishing in the demise of the Princess of Velaris, cooing and taunting you every moment they could, and when one would fall to slumber, another one would take its place.

How you hadn't gone mad yet was beyond you.

It was you who had locked many off the vile residents of the putrid place away, and now you were one of them. Straining against the stone, you pushed yourself upright, your back hitting the glacial wall of the cell you had no choice but to call home; you shivered at the contact and attempted to wrap your thinned fingers around the blanket to contain some warmth within your decaying body, but it was pointless.

The altar taunted you, the rare stripes of moonlight pouring upon it like it was some holy artifact that you should be worshipping. A part of you had to admire Rhys' gall attempt to break you, forcing you to dwell in the same room as a thing that had ruined your life, that had stripped you of a fundamental aspect of your humanity. Looking at the glistening stone altar, you struggled to remember why people had been so afraid of you, you struggled to remember the mother tongue of your fury on the battlefield and the sultry wit that would fill the halls.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you let out a defeated sob, the pain throbbing at your limbs, threatening to allow the foundations to consume you if you didn't move. The queen within you had dimmed, leaving the weakest part of you on show for the continent to see, not that anyone would ever come for you there.

Poor little fawn. The cutest thing we have ever seen. Such a shame, to be a monster.

The little fawn is trapped. The little fawn will die here.

No one will come for her.

Raising you gaze to the ceiling, you allowed the tears to fall. If you were going to die then it would be worth it, to protect those who had risked everything to stand by your side, to protect those who had showed you love in the face of uncertainty and evil. Resting your head against the wall, you felt yourself succumbing to the words that had been chanted to you through the nights, your heart clenching at the little name that had always given you butterflies.

Fawn.

Your mind drifted, and you could almost see him. In your visions, Eris was happy, strolling through the forests with Willow in tow weaving between his legs and sunlight illuminating that gods-crafted face. You wondered if he had heard your song, if it had reached the depths of Autumn to tell him that you were still alive. Had Gwyn done as you asked? Did Eris know anything about your torture?

Before you could even think of a scenario that could bring you some hope, a quiet scuffle of feet sounded at the mouth of the hallway where your chamber lay. The sound was followed by a sweep of fabric against the floor, and your interest was captured by it. You shakily rose to your feet, leveraging your withering weight against the stone until you could find your footing. Firelight flickered, growing brighter with each passing moment, and you waited before the enchanted barred gate for the owner to make themselves known.

The silhouette was Rhys', that was undeniable, but as you watched him, you saw him shrink a few inches, you saw his usually short tamed hair grow and pour over his shoulders, and you watched as his entire body morphed into another entirely. The firelight from the torch illuminated her face, revealing ethereal beauty and the pale blue-grey eyes that you had always admired, "Feyre," you weren't sure if she heard the utter of her name from the broken cracks in your voice.

You sank to your knees in front of her and she followed suit, placing the torch against the wall and crawling to the bars of the cell, her bottom lip wobbling as she took in the sight of you. Matted hair, ashen skin streaked with tears, weary eyes with no fire or spark, chapped and bloodied lips, "I'm so sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry," her fingers reached through the bars, the pads of them massaging warmth into your cheeks, "We're trying, alright? We're trying to find a way to get you out of here."

"He'll kill you," hatred flickered in her eyes but it wasn't something she hadn't thought of already, "Feyre, you can't."

Feyre's nostrils flared, water pooled at her bottom lids and you leant into her palm, it being the first innocently warm thing you had felt, "None of us deserve you, y/n. We have all been complicit in this one way or another. and I am not the only one who can't stand to watch this anymore," sensing your wavering life, Feyre added, "You have to hold on. Your family is waiting for you. Nesta and Elain are waiting for you. Eris is waiting for you."

"You have faced things no one ever should, and it makes me sick to know that your family has done this, that we have done this to you. Even if it's the last thing I do, I will get you out of this, y/n. We all will. I need you to hold on for a little longer, alright?"

The stone collar growled in retaliation, burning into your flesh for entertaining the words and you visibly winced, "I don't think that I can."

"You must," Feyre's words exuded those of a High Lady, though she would never pull rank on you, she grasped your face in her hands and removed the matted hair from your face, "Gwyn has sent word, we are orchestrating a High Lord's meeting, then, you will be free. You have to hold on, otherwise it'll have all been for nothing and you are too strong for that. If you are going to die then it'll be when you're old surrounded by everyone who has ever loved you, not in this gods forsaken prison. Do you hear me?"

Feyre was holding back her tears, she had never seen anyone so broken, so close to allowing the darkness to swallow them whole to escape the torment they had faced. The resentment she held toward Rhys was palpable, it was rife within the creases on her forehead and in the deep hued bags beneath her eyes.

"How is Nyx?" You had often thought of the babe, if he even remembered who you were, if he missed you at all, if he had any idea what was going on around him.

Feyre smiled sadly, her fingers caressing your rough skin, "He misses his aunt, very much."

"He does?"

Feyre hummed in confirmation, her head tilted to the side, eyes peering down at your hunched over form like she had just found a wounded doe in a clearing, writhing in a bed of autumn leaves, "I have to go, before this place realises that I'm not Rhys and alerts him," her hand withdrew from your face and a whimper fell from your lips at the sudden cold that coiled around you, "I'll come back, I don't know when but I will, I promise," a dark spot pooled at Feyre's right, looming in the corner of the opening, it wasn't prominent enough for Feyre to notice it, but you were attuned to the darkness, you'd notice an anomaly anywhere.

The High Lady rose to her feet, clasping the torch between her trembling fingers and tightening her cloak around her frame. All you could do was stare up at her, "Remember, remember that you were born to make the world shake at your fingertips. Don't let him ruin you."

And with that, Feyre turned away, leaving you slumped against the confinements of the gates, morphing back into the image of her husband once she was far away enough that it wouldn't scare you.

Feyre had contorted into Rhys, just like she had Tarquin before the war, even her scent morphed into his. The footsteps fell heavy against the stone, the firelight reflecting off of the dampened walls as she stalked through the prison, winding through the halls and finding herself being grateful for the lack of chortles sent her way by the prisoners, but also finding herself yearning to return to you.

A cool breeze drifted through the hall, telling Feyre that the entrance was only around the corner, and soon she'd be back at the House of Wind with her little Nyx working with her family on the plan to free you. Though, as soon as she turned the corner, she halted, she straightened her posture and felt dread settle into her chest at the flash of blue that greeted her.

Azriel stood before her, no doubt seeing right through the body she wore, his fists and jaw were clenched and his eyes burned into her, "I have to that admit that I'm impressed, Feyre. Impersonating Rhys to sneak into this place to see her." The darkness curled around him as it always had and would, his siphons were glowering in the slick corridor, bouncing off the glistening walls wet by the most recent downpour.

Shifting to her original form, Feyre became comfortable with the possibility of hurting Azriel, after the hand he had dealt in your suffering, "I did it with Tarquin, it was easy," Feyre's fists clenched, the hem of her cloak drowning in the puddle behind her, "Are you going to lock me up as well, Az?"

Azriel stepped forward into the scope of the firelight, his eyes softened and shoulders lax, "No. I was coming to see her as well."

"You have no right," Feyre spat, her stance shifting as a blockade to prevent him from delving further, "You're the reason why she's here."

"I know that," Azriel admitted, knowing that nothing he could say could change that fact, "Do you think that I wanted to? Feyre, Rhys has lost his mind, someone needed to be on the inside, to be trusted enough to know what he has planned. None of you would be able to do it, so I had to, and I couldn't tell a soul of it, not if I wanted her to get out of this court alive."

"What are you talking about?"

Azriel ran a hand over his face in frustration and sighed, "Who do you think tipped Gwyn off to go into the River House?"

Feyre stuttered before the realisation hit her, "It was you. You've been playing double agent this entire time."

"I promised her that I would always look out for her, that I would protect her," he felt the bargain tattoo purr in reply, "If I had truly hurt y/n then I'd be dead, from my own guilt or from the consequence of breaking the bargain," his gaze flickered behind Feyre, like he was expecting you to round the corner, "I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I've aided, and I don't expect you or her to either. Gwyn will deliver the message to Eris and Nesta, they're meeting with Tamlin and Helion to tell them of what has happened here, one of them will call a High Lord's meeting. That's our chance to set her free. Tell the others to prepare themselves, it isn't going to be easy."

None of it was going to be easy, to defy the High Lord of the Night Court was an act of treason, they could all be wiped from the earth for it but it was a reality that they would all welcome if it meant that you had a real chance to live. Not just survive, but live a life that deserved you.

Azriel took a step forward, "Feyre," he coaxed his High Lady from her thoughts, "I need you to do this, for her, for all of us."

"I will," her voice lingered, "But you can't see her, she'll crumble if she sees you. You've broken her heart and thus her sanity, her mind will shatter if she sees you and we need her to hang on."

Everything within him was telling him to ignore her, even his shadows were screaming at the notion of not being able to be near you, they had always yearned for you, sought you out at every moment. Their entire spirit had dulled since the night you had left, like they were the first to know that you had denounced your place and title, they had curled down his spine and shuddered at the loss, and only became frantic the moment you had been dragged back into Velaris wearing those awful collars.

Azriel inhaled deeply, staring ahead at the pitch black hallway before resting his gaze on Feyre and offering his arm, "Let's get you out of here, we both have work to do."

Tamlin had always found a certain solace when visiting the Autumn Court, there was something about it that comforted him; he always thought it was the way the sun would kiss the browning leaves that had fell upon the grass, or that unique warmth spreading across the land like a blanket and weaving between the trees, breathing life into everything that it touched.

The High Lord of Spring had been surprised when he had received the note from Lucien, a twin to the one sent for Helion, but as soon as he saw the mention of you, Tamlin instantly agreed to the request to descend upon the Autumn Court. Though, what surprised him more was that he had been invited to the private residence of Fir Manor for the meeting, which meant that the matter was too important to speak of in a fortress of deceptive ears.

Fir Manor was a truly beautiful estate, towering oak beams encased by vines and delicate flowers, pale brickwork and a thatched but sturdy roof, large windows that oozed comfort, and gardens littered with fountains and the faint chipper of birds as they soared from branch to branch. Stones clashed beneath his feet, the sound alerting the inhabitants of the home to his presence; he wasn't exactly late, but by the faint scent of musk and petrichor Tamlin knew that Helion was already in the confinements of the manor.

The door opened as Tamlin stepped onto the porch, drinking in the wicker chairs facing outward to the pond, a blanket draped across the back that told him that it was someone's favourite spot. Nesta appeared before him, she seemed unphased by his presence, but her eyes were thankful and full of relief, "Tamlin," she greeted in monotone, she wouldn't forget what he had done to Feyre, but if he could help you then she could certainly forgive him for it.

"Nesta," Tamlin greeted with equal tone, wary of Lady Death in all of her glory. Nesta was poised, her shoulders straightened as she observed him; she stepped to the side so that he may be able enter, and he angled past her.

The interior was just as charming as the exterior, a log fire burned at the centre of the far wall, exposed wooden beams loomed overhead that connected to the coffee hued walls littered with golden embellishments; the seating area was rooted in place, large feather cushions sat atop plush red wine seating, and an array of artworks kissed the walls.

A faint scent clung to the air, one that Tamlin immediately recognised as yours, but it was a whisper on the atmosphere, like the home was clutching onto it, trying to inhale it into its bones so that an aspect of you might live with it for eternity. "Tamlin. Thank you for coming," Eris spoke from by the fire.

Noting his dishevelled appearance, Tamlin frowned, speckles of mud splayed up his riding boots, no doubt from a hasty morning ride through the forest. Eris' hair was messy and eyes weary and full of worry, the amber whisky hue dimming with every wrenching thought that shook through his mind.

Something was very off about the High Lord, and Tamlin couldn't quite put it together. He took the seat beside Helion, greeting him with the same pallid politeness before moving his gaze over to Lucien who nodded stiffly in his direction.

Tamlin returned the action and then allowed his eyes to wander about the room, noting all of its inhabitants, and then finding himself thinking of you and the intoxicating scent he often thought of. It was no secret that Tamlin held some form of affection toward you, he, like Eris, had grown up around you, seeing you grow and flourish into the impressive woman that you had become.

"Where is y/n? The note mentioned her, I thought she'd be here."

Eris visibly tensed at the question, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing before crossing the small space between the fire and the closest armchair and finding comfort within it, "Rhys has her."

The High Lord of Day frowned and moved from his lax position on the seat, leaning forward and examining the ire within the Autumn male, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Much like Tamlin did, Helion also thought very fondly of you, he enjoyed the wit and sass that radiated from you as well as the way you carried yourself, dangerously sultry yet elegant. Helion had asked Rhys for your hand multiple times, believing that you would make the finest High Lady, and his patience wavering each time he was shot down. Though, that didn't halt Helion from seeking you out at every dinner party or ball, he enjoyed your company greatly, as much as he enjoyed that beautifully knowledgeable mind you kept under lock and key.

"The day of your birthday, y/n found out that Rhys had sought to lock her away in Velaris for her entire life simply because she was more powerful than him, because her power threatened his position. Rhys used her to do his bidding, to be the terrifying monster of Velaris, he used her to threaten his enemies, but she was never able to leave the court without supervision. Rhys made y/n into a prisoner and she didn't even realise it," Eris recounted the knowledge as well as the pain in your face the moment you had figured out what he had done, "That night, y/n denounced her home and title and joined me here, Nesta, Elain and Lucien followed soon after."

"Rhys found her at the boarder to Winter whilst she was exploring, didn't realise how far she had strayed," Eris shook his head softly and inhaled deeply before he continued on, "He threatened us, he told her that he would kill us all if she didn't return, using the eons old Night Court tradition that an unmated female was the property of her family until they decided who to bestow her hand to."

Eris dragged his thumb over his bottom lip, trying to remember the way yours melted into his and the way they tasted on his tongue. It was difficult to ignore the bond that had opened within him, every inch of his essence was begging him to infiltrate the Night Court and save you, but his mind knew how dangerous that would be; if Rhys even caught one whiff of him then he would commit any manner of gut-wrenching acts upon you.

"And she's there now?" Helion enquired, the gold of his headpiece reflecting in the sunlight, scattering a glow across the ceiling, "Do we know if she is alive?"

The mere thought of you six feet underground made fury blaze within him, it was clear by how his entire body clenched, "We believe that she is, but we have no way of knowing," Nesta spoke for him from her seat to his side, "Rhys would have punished her for defecting, how, we don't know but we do know that he wouldn't have allowed her to continue on with her old life there. All of our contacts in the Night Court have been silent, there have been little to no whisperings of her, the only thing they know is that she has been said to be sick and is on strict orders to rest."

A blatant lie.

Throughout the entire display of information, Tamlin couldn't keep his eyes off of Eris, noting the way he shuffled in his seat and how his fingers would occasionally drift over his chest. Not needing to listen to Nesta for another moment longer, Tamlin cut through her words, "If you want our help then you will tell us the truth."

Eris' orbs burned, sticking to Tamlin with anguish before moving to Nesta, Eris nodded curtly and only once, a silent permission to divulge whatever it was that they were hiding. Nesta sighed, "There is a demon living within y/n. Amarantha placed it there the night she stole her wings Under The Mountain, she wanted to use y/n as a host, and if not y/n then the first child she could produce," Helion inhaled sharply, not expecting anything of the sort to ever be spoken in his lifetime. "That's not all," her voice drifted off but she didn't look to Eris, it was important that Tamlin and Helion knew everything, "Rhys also removed memories from both Eris and y/n, of the time they spent together throughout the years, of the love they shared."

A secret love that no one should have known of, but someone had sold you both out.

Helion's eyes drifted closed as he attempted to process the information. There was a demon living inside of the woman he admired. Rhys had taken you as a prisoner. Rhys had removed all memories of you and Eris from one another's minds. You and Eris loved one another. "You're her mate, aren't you?"

A gruff hum filled the void, "Yes. We are also Carranam."

Tamlin had heard of it, once, which told him that such a thing was a rarity, "Carranam," the word rolled off of his tongue, and he knew from the way Helion tensed beside him that he too knew what it meant. A bond that ran deeper than a mating bond, a bond that made the mating bond seem pale in comparison, "Rhys took your memories from one another so that her power couldn't be amplified by you, and then confined her to the Night Court so that she would never find out. A prisoner in her own home."

It was barbaric. To steal your chance of love away from you and confine you to your home court, and then have the gall to spread word of your monstrosity across the continent.

"I can't feel her," Eris strained, doing his best not to choke on the pain of the void dwelling within his soul, "He's done something to her, I know it."

Before them sat a male completely wracked by guilt and worry, who was clearly struggling to sleep, whose entire court was mourning the loss of you. Lucien was right, they couldn't sit by and allow history to paint this image of your demise.

"You're right," a genteel voice drifted from the doorway, the pop of red hair had Nesta rising from her seat almost immediately. The woman removed her hood, her red braid sweeping over her shoulders and blue eyes frantic, "I'm sorry that I couldn't send word, I couldn't trust anyone else with this information."

Nesta crossed the room, "Gwyn, what are you doing here?"

Gwyn was as pallid as a bedsheet drifting in the summer breeze, exhaustion fell from her, "Y/N sent me, and I brought you this," Gwyn presented a book from under her cloak, not just any book, it was the tome Amarantha had written that depicted every single thing that she knew of you, "I came as soon as I could."

"Y/N sent you?"

The woman nodded toward Eris, her lips curling downward, "She did. She asked me to deliver a message," her bottom lip wobbled slightly, "She asked me to tell you that she loves you, all of you," she emphasised, her sight flickering to Elain and Lucien, "She asked me to tell you that no matter what happens to her that there is no place you could go where she wouldn't be with you."

The final words of a woman losing the fight.

No.

Eris stood, "Where is she?"

The tone of his voice made the temperature of the manor rise, and the walls vibrated with it, "Rhys, what he's done - I can't serve anyone like that. I refuse."

Nesta grasped her friends forearms, willing her to focus, "I need you tell us where she is, and what has happened to her, Gwyn. Now."

"Rhys hired someone to manufacture some kind of collars, they've melted into her skin, they've drained her of all of her power and life, she's completely defenceless now. Cassian is trying to help her, so are Mor and Amren, they all know that he's gone mad. I don't think that she can hold on for much longer," Gwyn blinked hard, washing away the images of your thinning body and grey skin from her mind, "Rhys has moved her to the prison, Azriel told him that he saw Tamlin and Helion enter the Autumn Court and he moved her there as punishment."

Nesta dropped Gwyn's arms and stumbled backward, the dread and terror pooling into her gut at the image of you shivering in a cell. Alone and believing that no one was coming for you.

Eris reached into that bond, tugging at it harder and allowed part of himself to travel with it, almost whimpering when it was met by a wall of agony and darkness, pinging back to him like an injured animal searching for comfort.

"Call the meeting," Silence followed Nesta's dangerously low voice, and it only irked her fury more, "Call the fucking meeting," Nesta turned to Helion who had taken the book from Gwyn, he was flitting through the pages, his eyes pouring over every word and rune etched upon the pages. "If you care about her at all, you will do it. If you don't then I will destroy you, Helion. She'll die in there."

It had to be Helion. Rhys would find disrespecting Tamlin too joyous, but he wouldn't dare to show the same disrespect to Helion, not if he wanted their courts to continue their alliance, not if he wanted to avoid an all out war.

Helion's gaze lifted from the tome, his heart rumbling with what lined the pages, "Consider it done," he rose from his seat, his white tunic pooling at his sandalled ankles, "I'm taking this, I think there may be a code in this book which will help us free her of that demon."

The High Lord of Spring also stood, anger coursing through his veins at the revelation that one of the few people who ever truly saw him was locked away and suffering in one of the most inhumane places on the continent. It didn't matter to Tamlin that your mate was Eris, despite the tinge of jealousy that swarmed him that Eris was the one who able to call you his, all that mattered to Tamlin was that you were free and healthy, that you had the choice to be whatever you wanted to be. "It may take a couple of days, please try to be patient. I know that it's a ridiculous ask but we all need to prepare, and give the other High Lords time to respond to the request. We'll need all of them."

Approaching Eris, Tamlin rested a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry that this has happened to you," his words were solemn but he was being truthful, "We will return her to you, and we will do everything that we can to free her from the demon inside of her. I promise you."

Wasting no time, Helion muttered a short farewell, clutching the tome to his chest and winnowing from sight, hurrying to send the request to the High Lords of the continent to ascend upon the Day Court Palace as a matter of urgency.

Moments later, Tamlin also said his goodbyes, strolling from the hearth of the manor toward the boarder where Spring met Autumn, doing his best not to listen to the gut wrenching roar that erupted from Eris the moment he stepped beyond the treeline.

Author's Note

Breaking my own heart right now 🥺

Also very sorry for the delay, haven’t been very well recently so just been trying to recover 🫶🏻

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