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grimalkinmessor · 4 months

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Age Swap bits with Panther Hybrid Mob but to the tune of Lilo & Stitch

———

Arataka is still sulking as they walk into the shelter. Anehito-nee ushers him forward with one hand on the small of his back, guiding him gently. He hates how fragile she treats him sometimes, but in this moment he's half glad for it. She's older than him by eight years, a purposeful child to Arataka's 'happy accident'. To Arataka, his parents don't seem all that happy to have him around.

Case in point; Anehito is taking him to the shelter today, because during the hurricane yesterday his parents had shoved him in the car kicking and screaming, leaving his beloved Wuu-chan tied up outside as they evacuated with the rest of the city. This morning, when they'd returned to an intact house, the only things that had been missing were the gutters and Arataka's dog.

When Arataka had started to cry, his parents had shoved him at his sister and told her to "take him somewhere to calm down" while they unpacked everything they'd stuffed in the car the day before.

Ice cream hadn't soothed Arataka. Neither had going to different dog parks and looking for Wuu-chan, because most of those dog parks had been wrecked. Six hours and a slow-setting sun later, Anehito is just as strung tight as Arataka and ready to take drastic measures.

So, the Seasoning City Humane Society it is.

But while he appreciate his nee-san's stubbornness—it had taken months to wear his parents down enough to get Wuu-chan in the first place and they certainly wouldn't like another animal in the house while they were trying to fix it, but Anehito has the incredible power of being a full grown adult who now only listens to their parents half the time—he just wants Wuu-chan back. He'd been old, his hips bad enough that he waddled instead of walked, but Arataka had loved him a lot. He was his only friend.

Plus, Arataka is pretty sure this place doesn't have any full dogs anymore. Over the years, the once rare breeds of "sapien-hybrids" had grown in number until they became as common as alley cats. Things with dog ears and human faces and digitigrade legs laying by fireplaces in big dog beds and being yanked around on leashes, all while being, notably, not a dog. Seasoning City is particularly overrun with them, and strays have become a big problem in recent years, so Arataka has no doubt that there's probably more hybrids in here than actual animals.

When he says as much to Anehito, the lady behind the counter smiles and reassures him, "Oh don't worry dear, they might look human, but they really aren't. Their brains aren't even well-developed enough to speak human language. The only real difference is that whatever pup you pick out will have a different diet."

"So you admit that you don't have any dogs in here," Arataka bites out, hugging himself. He wants Wuu-chan back, not some overgrown Frankenstein thing probably made in a lab or bred in a mill somewhere.

"Of course we have dogs! This past week we've brought in a pomeranian, a shepard mix, a—"

"Do they have human faces?" Arataka interrupts. When the woman merely blinks at him, taken aback, Arataka scoffs. "That's what I thought..."

"'Taka, don't be difficult," Anehito says, chiding. "Do you want to go back home empty-handed?"

A new furry friend won't be Wuu-chan. But it also won't be nothing either.

And...

...Well no, obviously Arataka doesn't. He doesn't want to go home to a lonely house that will now be even lonelier than before. Anehito will be going back to her apartment soon, and Arataka will be left with nothing and no one to soothe his grief.

Squeezing his arms tighter together, Arataka huffs. His expression must give him away, because Anehito nods. The woman behind the counter gestures toward the door to her left, and Anehito gives him a gentle shove towards it.

"Go on," she urges. "Pick someone out."

Grumbling, Arataka opens the door and steps inside, letting it close behind him. There's a short hallway, and then another door that leads to the actual kennel. Arataka slips through that one, and blinks.

There's a blocky maze of cages all around, with human features in every one. Arataka is disheartened to find that they're really aren't any real dogs back here, but he's quickly distracted from his disappointment by the way the hybrids are acting. A pair of tabby hybrids flatten themselves into the far corner of their cage, fur puffed up. Some sort of dog hybrid has somehow managed to scale the kennel fence and now clings to the top of it, trembling so hard the metal rattles. They all look positively terrified.

They're not looking at Arataka, but they're all pressed as far away from the outer hall as possible, as if something may attack them through the fence at any moment. Brow furrowed, Arataka looks around and tilts his head as he sees an open cage door to the right, at the far end of the hallway. He cocks an eyebrow, humming.

"So one of you is an escape artist, huh?"

The snake hybrid in the cage next to the bent one seems to have fainted. It looks a little gray in the face.

He ventures a little closer despite himself, curious, and sees that the cage door has been bent and warped, the lock curled like a vacant banana peel and the chainlinks themselves twisted into the shape of a perfect circle; a big one. Whatever got out had to have been pretty large, but the door doesn't look ripped or eaten—just changed.

Weird.

Something big stands in the middle of the next hall, a swath of shadow covering it even beneath the fluorescent lights. A sleek black tail lashes behind it, and when it turns to face Arataka, he can see that its eyes gleam like its tapetum is lit from within. It looks like a gorgon, with tendrils of black thrashing and swirling above its eyes as it lowers itself onto all fours. Arataka barely has time to breathe before it lunges at him, two long leaps before it crashes into his chest with all the force of a speeding train.

Arataka crouches down and sticks his fingers through the chain to poke it, concerned. It gives a weak, trembling hiss, but doesn't stir further. A little disturbed, Arataka backs up and starts looking around again.

He reaches the end of the hallway and turns, only to stop dead at the sight in front of him.

Grinning, Arataka reaches up and pets his hands through its hair—and it is hair, he finds, no matter how lively—scritching it behind a velvet ear. "Aw, you're friendly! My Wuu-chan liked to give hugs too," Arataka croons, already feeling a swell of affection rising up in his chest. He's always liked bigger dogs, though Wuu-chan was on the smaller side, being a corgi. Arataka is no stranger to being bowled over by the occasional overexcited gentle giant. The hybrid's gleaming eyes droop as Arataka brings up his other hand to pet both ears at once. "Poor guy, I bet that cage was too small for you, huh? You're bigger than the other ones."

Arataka goes down with a cry of surprise, alarmed, but the strange hybrid doesn't take a bite out of him. Instead, it shoves its human nose against his neck and begins to snuffle, investigating Arataka's neck, his shoulder, his ear. He squeals a little when hot breath gusts past the cartilage, ticklish, and begins to giggle.

The hybrid pauses, pulling back to look down at him with a cocked head. From the well of lashing shadows, a rounded ear flicks curiously.

A strange, grating noise rumbles its way out of the hybrid's chest, and Arataka blinks. It's a distinctly feline sound, but he's never seen a cat hybrid this big.

Shaking his head, Arataka walks curious fingers over its (his...?) head, and marvels at the sight of the shadows receding a bit at his touch. Enough for him to make out a slightly parted mouth, with a nice set of chompers glimpsed behind slack lips. This hybrid's skin is pale, his hands blackened into claws at the fingertips, and the thinnest line of fur fading out down his spine.

It's so cool.

Arataka's eyes are sparkling. His expression turns contemplative, then intent. Dropping his hands, he commands, "Get off now."

After a moment, the hybrid obeys, looking a little put-out that the pets have stopped. Pushing himself to his feet, Arataka dusts himself off and points, saying, "Sit!"

The hybrid sits, head cocked, like he's confused why he's being asked to do it. Face brightening, Arataka drops his stern expression and reaches forward to pet the hybrid again, rubbing his ears and scratching down the fur at the back of his neck. Another purr starts up, and even more of the shadows recede, enough for Arataka to make out the vague shape of a nose.

"Good boy!" he crows, elated. He squishes the hybrid's cheeks and declares, "Yep, you're the one. I'm not usually a cat person, but I can make an exception just this once. A troublemaker, but a good one! Just like me!" White eyes stare incomprehensibly back, but Arataka goes on. "How'd you like to come home with me?"

Given how quiet the kennel had been, and how silent the hybrid was, Arataka isn't expecting to get an actual answer. But he does.

"H...Home..." the hybrid gutters out, blinking. Arataka's jaw drops, and that sleek, black tail starts curling in a distinctly pleased way. "Home."

His voice is rough, unused, but very much a voice nonetheless. Arataka remembers that woman's words—they don't even have the ability to speak human languages—and wonders why he believed a word she said. This was very much a hybrid that just spoke to him, broken Japanese aside.

A big, talking, magic kitty that likes to give hugs.

"Yeah, you're coming home with me."

Arataka squeezes the hybrid's head to his chest, petting faster, mussing up still-wiggly hair. The human features don't even bother him anymore; they're a feature, not a flaw.

Finally, he'll have a friend he can actually talk to.

"Home," the hybrid croons, echoing. "Home with me."

Arataka grins. As he pulls back, his fingers catch on the standard black collar and he pauses. Tapping his foot, rubbing his chin, Arataka considers something. "Right, right, but first you need a name." Then, blinking, he thinks to ask, "Do you already have a name?"

The humanoid parts of the hybrid's body look adult; even bigger and broader than most grown men. It would make sense if he already had a name.

But he just cocks his head to the opposite side this time, staring again. Swaying hair, shadowed, pupiless eyes...

Maybe he didn't have a name. Maybe this was a pointless exercise.

Arataka sighs, then straightens his back, brandishing a finger forward and ending with a boop on the hybrid's nose. "Then, if you don't already have a name, you can be...Mob!"

Ears perk, and his tail flicks. "Mo-ob? Mob?"

"Yes, that's your new name," Arataka says with a firm nod. "I'll get you a new collar with your name on it once we get out of here!"

He emerges out from the kennel, Mob in tow, in time to hear the woman behind the counter finishing up the paperwork with Anehito.

Arataka turns, fingers hooked in the black collar, and makes his way back to the first door. As they pass, the other hybrids whine and whimper in fear, clawing to get further away from them. A hamster hybrid passes out. Arataka rolls his eyes. What a bunch of babies.

"—your number and address there. So, as of now, all of the animals we have are available for adoption—" she cuts herself as Arataka comes into view, eyes going wide as she cries out in alarm. "Except that one!" she shrills, swooping in to separate Arataka and Mob. Anehito-nee is there too, scooping Arataka up like he's ten again and hauling him back.

"What is that thing!?" Anehito screeches just as the other woman loops a leash around Mob's neck and holds him back. The shadows fill in again, just a little, and both girls shriek at the sight.

"I don't know, it was dead this morning!" the woman shouts.

"It was dead this morning!?"

She struggles to pull Mob back while also remaining as far from him as possible, eyes wide and spooked. "We thought it was dead! It was hit by a truck!"

Arataka frowns, wriggling to be put down. He's not a baby and all the screaming is making his ears hurt. "Well I like him! You're being mean to him!" Turning from his sister in a huff, Arataka holds out his arms in Mob's direction, calling for him even as Anehito hastily hauls him back further, feet off the floor. "Come here boy!"

Hair thrashing, Mob prowls forward, back muscles flexing a little as he heaves himself and the poor lady holding him towards Arataka, leash be damned. Arataka grins, giddy, and laughs as Anehito falls back onto one of the plastic chairs with a screech as Mob reaches up for Arataka and settles in his lap easily. Arataka gives him ear scritches for his effort.

"See?" he tells a distressed Anehito. "He's a good boy!"

"That is not a dog, Arataka," she grinds out after a moment, pupils pinpricked with panic even as her heartbeat begins to slow again.

"They don't have any dogs in here," Arataka fires back, clutching Mob's shadowy head close. The hybrid blinks placidly at him, eyes still glowing white, though it's less noticable out in the sun. "And I like this one! You told me to go pick someone out, and I pick Mob!"

"Mob?" the shelter lady ventures, brow furrowed.

Arataka pats Mob's head, silky black hair playing between his fingers. "That's his name now."

"Oh God," Anehito groans. "You already named it."

"Yep," Arataka chirps. His mood has improved tremendously since this morning, and he can see his nee-san's protests weakening the longer she watches him smile. He squishes Mob's cheek against his own, grin impish. A black velvet ear flicks against his wheat-gold hair. "So obviously we have to take him home now."

All of a sudden, like a candle flame being blown out, the blackness covering Mob's face fades rapidly. It recedes to make way for pale skin, a mild fanged mouth, and a pair of dark, dark irises. His hair goes slack, and as it falls back down into place Arataka can see that someone's given him a bit of a childish bowl cut. Mob yawns, sharp teeth flashing, and blinks mildly up at the Reigen siblings. A rough tongue slips out and slicks up Arataka's temple, making him cringe and laugh. He pushes Mob's face away, complaining, "Gross! Cat tongue!"

That seems to be the final nail that Anehito needs, because she studies Arataka and Mob carefully for one more moment, before sighing shakily and pushing to her feet. She squeezes out from beneath Arataka, leaving him to be squished by the full weight of Mob's upper half. Again.

A crisp five thousand yen note is stuffed in the other woman's hand. Anehito-nee sounds grave when she utters, "We'll take this one."

The woman looks at her like she's got a second head. But after a deadpan stare from his sister and vicious glare from Arataka himself, she slowly rounds the counter again and files everything away. A stamp, a signature, a receipt.

Arataka walks out of the Seasoning City Humane Society hand in hand with Mob, having refused the offered leash. He'd risen up on two legs when Arataka had offered his hand, and Arataka is delighted to know that his theory is correct. Mob is intelligent.

A clawed hand, the one not held by Arataka's small, soft one, reaches up and plays with the new brass tag on his collar. It has his new name, Arataka's phone number, and the Reigen address. He plays with it, turning it this way and that, trying to get his head down to see it better, batting at it so it jingles.

"Do you like it?" Arataka asks.

Mob looks down at him. Blinks again, slow and sure. "Yes."

His long tail curls around Arataka's wrist, and in the dying light of day, he can just barely make out wobbly spots in his midnight fur. Arataka's eyes widen. Mob is a jungle cat.

"Ahh so cool," Arataka whispers, swinging their hands happily. Anehito looks at him weirdly, but doesn't comment further. She must be preparing herself for the inevitable confrontation with their parents when they get back. She's much more relaxed around Mob now that he's not all dark and flickering like an old TV set.

"Remember, 'Taka, you have to be responsible with him. You know Mom and Dad aren't going to help you take care of him."

"Maah, nee-san, Mob can take care of himself," Arataka dismisses, waving his free hand. Mob can talk, after all, and he's an adult. Arataka briefly wonders if he really just bought a friend, the implications of such a thing ready to drown him—before he banishes the thought. It's not a nice one, and he's in a good mood right now; he wants that to last. "But I'll look after him! He's bigger than...than Wuu-chan, so he'll need a different bed." He looks up at Mob, who's already looking back at him. "You can sleep in my bed for now. What kind of food do you like to eat? I like ramen, it's the best."

Mob opens his mouth to respond—

But Anehito beats him to it. "Hybrids can't talk, Arataka."

"Well he can!" Arataka insists, scowling. Anehito just sighs and looks forward again. Mob seems to consider this for a moment, and then closes his mouth. Arataka huffs. "I'll just ask you when we get home."

Mob's tail uncoils from Arataka's wrist to brush it pleasantly back and forth, pushing up fluff against the delicate bones of his wrist. He gives Arataka the tiniest smile.

Home.

#mobrei #mobreimob #grim scribbles #age swap au #panther mob #reigen arataka #kageyama shigeo #mob #reigen anehito #<- that's not canon btw i just made up a name #drabble #idea void

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theemporium · 2 months

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[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part two here

“You know I would never question your authority—”

“It sounds like you’re about to question it.”

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?”

The footsteps echoing through the long corridor came to an abrupt stop as Nico stopped walking. The second set stopped shortly after, and he turned to find his second-in-command already looking at him with a mixed expression. It made him sigh, pushing back the meeting they were currently walking to to the back of his mind as he turned to his closest friend and confidante.

The same man he had chosen to stand beside him in this lifestyle of theirs without a moment of hesitation because he knew no one would have his back the way Jesper Bratt did.

“Would there even be a point if I said no? It’s not like we can back out now,” Nico pointed out, and he watched Jesper’s shoulders slump a little like he was expecting that answer.

Jesper gritted his teeth. “I just don’t understand why you are doing this.”

“It’s for an alliance, Jesper, we’ve been over this,” Nico said, and despite himself, his eyes softened a little when he noted the hint of concern in his second-in-command‘s face. “We have too many enemies for our own good. We need to have people we can trust.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you think you can trust them?”

“Just as much as they can trust us,” Nico replied, though the response sounded way too rehearsed and planned, even to his own ears. “We need this as much as they do.”

“We have plenty of enemies you could have negotiated an alliance with,” Jesper pointed out. “We could have strengthened the bond with Philadelphia. Or even the Sabres. Hell, Nico, you could have even tried to fix things with the Panthers down south. Why in loving fuck would you pick the Rangers?”

Nico remained silent.

“Because you want something from them,” Jesper murmured, realisation clicking into place as he carefully noted Nico’s expression. “Or someone.”

“I am doing it for the sake of the gang,” Nico answered simply.

A slow smile spread across Jesper’s face. “Us, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“You know, as your second-in-command, surely I deserve to know what your game plan is.”

“My game plan is to get to this meeting and sign the papers to start a new era of alliance with the New York Rangers,” Nico stated, his voice simple and blunt, but Jesper knew better. “That is all.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Hm, sure.”

Nico shot the boy a look over his shoulder, but Jesper just grinned in response.

“I should’ve brought Palat with me instead,” he grumbled under his breath, lips twitching upwards when he heard Jesper let out a noise of disagreement. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late.”

“Please, we are already thirty minutes early.”

“Walk faster.”

…

“Stop making that face.”

Silence.

“You look prettier when you smile.”

Silence.

“Rogue, baby, come on. Don’t be like that—”

Your hand snapped out, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and halting his actions before he could even reach out to touch you. You turned your head to look at him for the first time since you left the house back in New York, your glare icy and cold.

“Don’t try to fucking touch me again.”

Jacob Trouba stared back at you, his face remaining impressively blank but you noted the small twitch in his jaw. It wasn’t often someone talked back to the boss of the New York Rangers and didn’t face some consequence, but you guessed you were getting a pass due to current circumstances.

“Play nice,” he said eventually as he leaned back against his chair. You sat in the seat next to him to his right, with two men settled behind. Jacob had said they didn’t need any more men in the room, but you knew well enough that he would have some of his men crawling within a block radius of the building. “And try not to be too difficult.”

“You picked the wrong woman then,” you retorted, your whole body feeling stiff and on edge as you glanced over at the clock above the door. Two more minutes before the meeting was set to begin. “There’s still time to change. There’s always—”

“Not happening.”

You gritted your teeth together.

“Smile.”

“Don’t fucking test me right now.”

You heard one of the boys choking on a laugh, quickly trying to cover it up with a laugh. You didn’t need to turn your head to know that Jacob was probably glaring at them.

You couldn’t even find it within yourself to smile at the interaction.

When Jacob had called you into his office two weeks ago, you honestly thought he was joking. He had told you about the offer the Devils had offered, a few other members of his inner circle in the room as the lot of you discussed it. Most of you mocked it, talked about how it was a fucking joke that such a deep, historical rivalry was meant to be fixed with one marriage. Jacob himself had made a few teasing comments during the whole thing.

Then, a week later he told you he was actually contemplating it.

And then, just this morning, he gave you next to no warning that it would be you heading across the river to marry one of the Devils boys.

Your reaction was as one expected when they were told they were practically being sold off for the sake of an alliance—you were fucking pissed. You laughed it off but when he didn’t join, you felt an unexplainable rage bubble inside you.

You knew how this world worked. You knew the reality and the politics of mob life. You knew nothing but mob life. And you knew very well the way women were seen in the eyes of the mob, the way they were seen as objects more so than humans. You had seen friends close to you be shipped across the country for the sake of alliance arranged marriages.

But never once did you think it would be you.

Never once did you think Jacob would pull this shit on you.

And for an alliance with the Devils, of all fucking people.

You weren’t the kind of girl that mob men liked. You weren’t quiet or compliant or a pushover. You weren’t the kind of girl they liked to have on their arm to show off. You weren’t the kind of girl to be a mob wife, full stop.

Jacob knew this. He knew it better than anyone. It was the main fucking reason you were close to him, that you had his respect, that you were one of the few people in his inner circle that he trusted beyond belief.

And he had thrown it back in your face.

You hadn’t spoken to him after your initial outburst. Once your throat was raw and your hands were shaking with rage, you had turned on your heel and walked out the room. He had tried to speak to you, quite a few of the boys did. But you remained silent for the whole ride over, for the hours that passed, for the whole day until a few minutes ago.

“You are being fucking ridiculous right now.”

A muscle in your jaw twitched, an overbearing urge to turn in your seat and spit out every thought you had bubbling in your mind since this morning, but your attention was quickly diverted by the sound of the door opening.

You had encountered many of the Devils before, though not many of their faces were familiar and recognisable. It was good to know one’s enemy, to know the strongest and weakest points of their group. You had studied them far more than you cared to admit, probably more so than needed over the years.

However, years of meetings and unfortunate accounts meant you recognised the faces that walked through the door, but the last person still took you by surprise. You knew he would be here, you expected as much.

But never once had you met Nico Hischier in the flesh.

His reputation preceded him. You had heard a lot about the man, most of it surrounding the young age he stepped into power for the Devils. You knew what the other organisations thought about him, the whispers and rumours that travelled outside of New York where the hatred and rivalry wasn’t so prominent.

He was seen to be…fair.

You didn’t think it was necessarily possible to be considered fair in the life you all were in.

“Hischier.”

You watched the man stop at the other side of the table, making a point of dragging the chair out and settling down comfortably. He waited a few moments as his men stood behind him in formation, and only after they were comfortable, did he speak.

“Trouba.”

You could only imagine how much he was seething. A small part of you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t turn to watch his expression closely.

“I assume you still agree to the terms of our deal.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement that laid heavy in the air between the two men.

“As long as nothing has changed on your side.”

Jacob’s lips twitched. “Now, Nico, what kind of man would you take me for? This is about an alliance.”

Nico raised his brows a little. “To the start of a new beginning.”

Jacob’s eyes shifted away from the man he had called his mortal enemy for years now, and instead shifted to you. “Your boys will like her.”

Your jaw clenched.

“A wife isn’t meant to be shared,” Nico retorted, though there was a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t establish. “Though, I am not sure how things are run in New York.”

Jacob laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement like the room pretended it was. “Of course not. I am sure—”

“Do I get to know who I’m marrying now?” You spoke up, watching as every pair of eyes in the room turned to you. They were heavy and judging and focused, but your expression remained impassive. “Or am I expected to just sign a paper and be done with it?”

Nico’s eyes fell onto you, something swirling in them that felt strong and captivating and almost made you want to lean a little closer to read whatever was written in them. He tilted his head, almost like he was inquiring your words before he spoke.

“You’ll be my wife.”

You froze, blinking.

Understanding washed over Nico’s expression. “You didn’t know.”

“No,” you gritted out, your nails digging into your palm as that bubbling rage from earlier returned. “I did not.”

Nico’s eyes shifted to Jacob, and you resisted the urge to do the same.

“I didn’t see it necessary information to share,” was all Jacob responded with.

You bit your tongue.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, seeming to have a lot more to say but resisting the urge to do so. His eyes lingered on Jacob for a few moments, analysing and observing before his gaze settled on you again. “Are you returning to New Jersey with us, or do you wish to return to New York to collect your things?”

You opened your mouth but Jacob bet you to it.

“She will go with you once the marriage is official.”

Nico didn’t take his eyes off you. “I wasn’t asking you, Trouba.”

You heard someone cough behind you, but you found yourself staring right back at Nico.

He raised his brows in question.

And you could feel Jacob’s eyes boring into your side.

And maybe it was petty or maybe it was fuelled by the lingering anger you had towards the man, but you kept your eyes on Nico as you spoke.

“Might as well get used to New Jersey as soon as I can, no?” You stated simply, but you could have sworn he almost looked pleased with your response before his eyes returned to Jacob.

“Then it’s settled,” he said as he pushed himself off his chair, the two men behind him quickly taking a step closer as if on instinct. “We’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”

…

You thought you had an idea what it would be like to live with the New Jersey Devils, truthfully because you didn’t assume it would be all that different to life with the Rangers. You weren’t naive enough to think both organisations were run the exact same way, but you assumed there would be a lot more similarities than there actually were.

The first thing that caught you by surprise was the way they talked.

You hadn’t spoken a word as you left the room, not taking Nico’s offer to say your goodbyes to the Rangers you had come with. The last thing you needed to hear was an earful from Jacob for not following his orders, or his plan (the one he conveniently kept to himself and expected everyone to simply know). You followed Nico out the door, trying not to feel so on edge about having the two other Devils flanking you from behind.

When you reached the car, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that Nico reached to open your door. Most men were raised to act like gentlemen in this life, even if they were far from it. He waited until you were settled in the seat behind the passenger’s seat, seatbelt clicked in place before he closed the door.

You were somewhat surprised to find him round the car and settle on the other side of the backseat, and not sit in the front. You tried not to stare at him too much.

You expected the drive back to be similar to the journey you had with Trouba this morning. It almost startled you the way the three of them instantly broke out into conversation.

It wasn’t anything damning or secretive, but it still felt wrong to listen in. It felt wrong for them to talk in front of you. It felt like a culture shock, being in a car and not having the people inside the vehicle with you being overly paranoid at the car being tapped. It felt weird that they didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even wait until the dark haired man (the vague memory of his name on the tip of your tongue) in the front had turned the key in the ignition.

“I get to choose the music since I rode shotgun!” The blond in the passenger seat blurted out before the car had even reversed out of its space.

“Fuck off, you like my music!” Nico snapped back.

“Sure, Boss, sure.”

You blinked.

The fact they spoke was one thing, but you certainly didn’t expect them to talk to each other like that. The fact they spoke to Nico—their boss—like that. It was far from what you were expecting.

“Back me up, Siegs,” the blond tried again but the man in the driver’s seat just snorted.

“I don’t care, Jesper,” Jonas replied, though there was a smile on his face.

Jesper let out a huff. “You are so fake in front of him, I know you hate it.”

Jonas only shrugged in response, which made Nico’s smile widen a little.

You tried not to gape at the three of them, but it was a little difficult. It wasn’t like you expected to be treated like an outcast—although, maybe you did—but you certainly weren’t expecting them to seem so…relaxed around you.

The silence that usually filled the Rangers car was nowhere to be seen. The underlying tension between the boss and his men was non-existent. It almost felt like you were sitting in a car full of friends. Maybe even a family.

It was a little disconcerting.

The second thing that caught your attention amongst everything else was the way they treated you.

You knew the expectations of a mob wife. You knew that arranged marriages, like yours and Nico’s, had been happening for decades now. You had seen many play out with your own eyes back with the Rangers, saw what was expected of these women who were thrown into new homes and lives for the sake of alliances, money and more.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nico led you through the house, guiding you upstairs with a hand placed in the dip of your back. The shock came when he stopped suddenly outside a door, turning to you with an expectant look.

“This is your room. I thought you would want to rest for tonight, maybe have some time to yourself,” Nico explained, polite and curt, like a true gentleman. “I can have some dinner sent up to you. And my office is just down the hall. Feel free to knock if you need anything.”

You stared at him with a confused expression.

Nico’s brows furrowed a little in response. “Sorry, is that okay? You look…lost.”

“You said your room,” you said, though the boy still looked a bit confused. “Instead of ours.”

“Oh,” Nico nodded, realisation dawning over his expression before he gave you a polite smile. “My room is the next one over.”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “We aren’t sharing a room?”

“We aren’t married,” he stated simply.

“Do you expect us to share a room after we are married?” You asked.

His expression remained impassive and unreadable. “If you wish so.”

There was a small voice in the back of your head telling you he was being genuine, and yet, somehow, that only made your confusion grow.

“Goodnight, Rogue,” was all Nico said before he headed down the hall, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and suspicions and mixed emotions.

You thought there was nothing less that the New Jersey Devils could do to catch you by surprise. And you were very wrong about that.

You had hardly slept the night before. There was something unsettling being away from the place you had called home your whole life. There was something even more unsettling knowing you were in enemy territory—even if you couldn’t really call it that anymore. There was just something unsettling about lying in a bed, knowing that you didn’t know a single soul beyond the door.

And after tossing and turning, you had mostly given up by the time someone knocked on your door just after nine in the morning.

You had almost expected that yesterday was the last you would see of Nico before he rushed off, hiding away in his office or meetings or whatever other excuses he could make to avoid you. You certainly weren’t expecting to find him on the other side of your door, a polite smile on his face once again.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his hands tucked behind his back. The sun had barely been in the sky for a few hours and the man was dressed immaculately in a shirt and suit pants, looking far too put together. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” you lied, because it wasn’t exactly like you wanted to get into the details with your soon-to-be husband. “Can I help you?”

“Oh yes,” he cleared his throat a little, taking a step back and only then did you realise he wasn’t alone. The boy beside him was taller, a little skinnier too. With curly hair and a baby face, you would guess he was at least a couple of years younger than Nico. “This is Luke.”

You glanced over the boy before your gaze returned to Nico. “Is he my babysitter?”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “I was going to say bodyguard.”

“Semantics.”

Luke cleared his throat a little, ducking his head down but not fast enough for you not to see the small smirk playing on his lips.

Nico straightened his spine before he spoke, his expression impassive again. “He can help you with whatever you need. And if he can’t, then he knows someone who can.”

“Let me guess,” you started, leaning against the door as you surveyed the older man with a knowing look. “He’s under strict orders to make sure I don’t run off?”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “Of course not. If you wish to go out somewhere, Luke will accompany you.”

You could only blink in response. You felt as though you had been doing that a lot lately.

“Oh.”

You didn’t remember what else Nico had said before he ran off, muttering something about a meeting and someone called Jack—the name familiar once again—blowing up his phone. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it mattered. Everything in the last twenty-fours had thrown your life upside down, you didn’t think you could handle much more.

And then Luke turned to you with a shit-eating grin on his face and said, “wanna go get McDonald’s breakfast?”

…

You had come to realise that despite his baby face and slight cartoonish laugh, Luke wasn’t as bad as you expected him to be.

Back in New York with the Rangers, you had crossed paths with your fair share of young and ambitious members. They were dedicated and strong-willed and determined to do anything to prove themselves to the cause, to prove themselves to their boss. They were willing to be ruthless, merciless and cold-hearted.

New Jersey was very different.

There was a strong lack of fear in the air, replaced with something more akin to encouragement. The boys here didn’t fear to make mistakes as badly as you had seen in the Rangers. They followed the rules and did what they were told because they wanted to, because they wanted to thrive. Not because they were scared of what would happen to them otherwise.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you felt about it.

“Every week?”

“Every week,” Luke confirmed with a nod.

“Without fail?”

“Mhm,” he nodded once again.

“Everyone?”

“Usually,” Luke answered, pausing for a moment before he shrugged. “Unless someone has something else on. But nobody actively goes out of their way to miss it. Candy would kill them.”

You paused for a moment, your brows furrowed together as you tried to put a face to the name, only to come short. In your defence, though it had been close to a week since you arrived, most of your time had been spent with Luke. You would see people here and there, wandering around the house or passing by, and Luke would always try to inform you on who they were as best he could. But there were so many new names and new faces and new…everything to get used to.

You still felt like an outsider wandering the halls.

You still felt pretty pissed that Trouba, or any of the Rangers back home for that matter, hadn’t tried reaching out to you.

You still felt very fucking confused on the fact you had yet to see Nico since the day he brought you to Jersey. It seemed as though he was hiding away to avoid you after all.

“You’ll know her when you see her,” Luke informed you, seeming to pick up on the confusion on your face. “She’s the loud one in colourful clothes who has a guy resembling a lovesick puppy following her around.”

You raised your brows in question.

“Long story,” Luke snorted. “But where Candy goes, John follows.”

You nodded. “And John is…”

“Tall guy, dark curly hair, always silently brooding and judging people,” Luke listed off like it would help. “He kinda looks at you like he wants to kill you.”

You let out a huff of amusement. “You sure he doesn’t just do that to you?”

Luke paused, almost as though he was having a revelation.

Your lips twitched upwards. And then, because apparently you couldn’t keep a nice thing going, you found yourself asking, “are you even supposed to be telling me all this?”

He frowned. “What? That John is kinda emotionally constipated?”

“I—” You paused, your nose scrunching up a little. “What? No. Just about everyone in general.”

Luke stared at you. “Why wouldn’t I tell you?”

“Information,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Anyone with two working eyes could see half the shit I tell you,” Luke retorted with a snort. “It’s hardly confidential information when I tell you what a pain in the ass Jack is. Or that Dawson goes through three bottles of shampoo in a month. Or that—”

“That you are scared of spiders?” You interrupted, something close to a teasing smile on your lips as you watched the boy scoff.

“I’m not!” He insisted. “That spider just caught me by surprise.”

“You screamed.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see it.”

And even if you never said it to Luke, it was weird he was being so open with you about the members of the New Jersey Devils. Every piece of information—no matter how small or insignificant—could be used against you. It was a life motto, one ingrained into you when you grew up as a Ranger. It felt like a basic life rule everyone followed.

At least, it did back in New York.

In New Jersey, it seemed like the second you stepped foot onto their premise, they saw you as one of their own. And once you were one of their own, there were no secrets between you. Everyone knew everything about everyone—or at least, a general understanding. No one was shying away from each other, from you.

You didn’t know how you felt about it, but it did make your heart pine for something familiar. For something that felt like home.

And New Jersey would never be that.

…

To your utter surprise, the next time you saw Nico was that following Sunday.

You weren’t naive to think he would be glued to your side, that much was confirmed when he ordered Luke to be your round-the-clock bodyguard. He wanted to keep an eye on you, he just didn’t want to be the person to do it. You were somewhat surprised he didn’t send one of the bigger guys—like Kevin or Kurtis—to be your bodyguard, someone to intimidate you. Though, you assumed he was probably saving them for more important jobs than a glorified babysitter.

Your days had been blurring into one, and though you hadn’t spent much time in Jersey, it had felt like a lifetime.

Your life was stuck in routine and you had gotten pretty used to it by that point.

Luke would be at your door by eight sharp, ready to get the day started. You would share every meal with him, though it varied whether you both bothered in the kitchen or went somewhere out to eat—Luke had been enjoying showing you various places around the city. But that was about as exciting as your days got. You might bump into some others, talk to them, get to know them.

But your days were boring, pointless and repetitive.

The only slight change to your routine was Sunday. The unspoken but very relevant rule of every member attending the dinner, by your surprise, extended to you too. Luke had told you as much over breakfast, talking away about how Candy had been interrogating him on what dishes you would prefer.

You had told him you didn’t care—because you didn’t and you had a feeling it would give him a harder time with Candy, which amused you.

However, Luke had been frustratingly vague with the timings of everything. It wasn’t a big deal, considering you didn’t have much else on your plate to be worried about. But the limited wardrobe and Luke’s shrugged response when asked about the dress code for the dinner was turning out to be quite the issue.

It was somewhere just past seven when you heard three knocks on your door.

“I’m decent!” You called out, frowning at the few options hanging in your wardrobe. It was quite sad, to be honest. But you hadn’t had the chance to get everything transferred from your New York apartment, not that anyone from the Rangers seemed eager to offer their help.

But instead of coming in like he usually did, Luke knocked again.

You frowned, turning to look at the door. “Just come in!”

The door remained shut.

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you made your way towards the door. You reached for the handle, fully prepared to see Luke on the other side with his face in his phone or even giving you a shit-eating grin like he knew he got under your skin.

You were not expecting Nico to be standing on the other side.

“Oh.” You blinked. “I thought you were Luke.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I gave him the night off.”

You raised your brows. “Oh?”

“There was a small change in plans.” Nico continued. “I thought I would escort you to dinner.”

“Escort me,” you repeated, something quite like amusement lacing your voice. “I didn’t realise these big dinners were so fancy. Should I change?”

“We won’t be joining the others this week. I thought we could have dinner alone,” Nico corrected, his eyes watching you closely like he was inspecting your reaction. “If that is okay with you.”

You tried to hide your surprise that he was giving you an option. A part of you wondered if it was a formality, something he phrased like an option but was really a command—something Jacob would do often. Yet, you couldn’t really find yourself imagining Nico was one of those people.

“Just the two of us?” You questioned.

Nico nodded before he spoke. “I thought it would be best for us to get to know each other.”

Your interest piqued but you didn’t show much as you nodded, telling him to give you a few more minutes before you joined him.

For the dinner itself, he led you away from the large dining room where you assumed the large group dinner was taking place. He didn’t say a word as you walked, seeming comfortable enough in the silence until you reached the room.

And Nico played the part of a gentleman well. He opened the door and guided you in first. He pulled the chair out and waited for you to settle in your seat before he even made his way to his seat. He reached for the wine and filled your glass before even daring to touch his own.

You felt on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You look tense.”

You raised your brows. “Just what a woman wants to hear.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I have a feeling that you wouldn’t care what people say about you.”

“Your feeling would be correct.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” he mused, leaning back against his chair with an ease only a man in power would have.

You tilted your head. “And yet, you still agreed to marry me.”

“Who said your reputation wasn’t what appealed to me the most?” Nico retorted, hiding the smirk on his lips as he took a sip from his wine glass.

“I am sure whatever flowery promises Jacob added definitely sold it,” you commented, unable to hide the bite in your voice.

Nico stared at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I do apologise.”

You raised your brows in questioning.

“For blindsiding you that day,” Nico continued. “I was under the impression you were aware of the contract.”

“Funnily enough, I was not informed my name had been thrown into a deal,” you replied, jaw clenching a little as the reminder of what Jacob had inserted you into washing over you. This was your home now, not New York. “Jacob knew better than to tell me.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, your name wasn’t officially included,” Nico added.

You paused, a crease forming between your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Just that the official agreement between the Devils and Rangers included me marrying someone but no names were included for technicality reasons,” Nico answered and it took everything in you to keep your face straight.

Up until this point, you were under the impression that Jacob had practically thrown you into the deep end with no warning because your name was the one on the contract. You had seen it time and time again in arranged marriages, you had seen demands to be made because men felt entitled to certain women or dangled them in front of the enemy as a bargaining chip.

If you were being completely honest, you had assumed that was what happened here. You had assumed back and forth negotiations had been made and Jacob had deemed you the best bargaining chip to get whatever he wanted from the Devils. The Rangers tended to be old school and traditional that way.

It never occurred to you that you weren’t a part of this, that you didn’t need to be a part of it.

“So, Jacob just offered me up to fill a spot?” You questioned, your voice remaining steady and calm as your mind swirled with a million thoughts.

Nico’s eyes glimmered with an unreadable emotion. “Something like that.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. “And any woman could be in my spot and the agreement would still remain?”

“I guess so,” Nico stated, seeming like he wanted to say more but he remained quiet.

“Interesting,” you commented, a plan already forming in your head as you reached for your glass. “You may have made a mistake, you know?”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “What makes you say that?”

“If this is to be my wedding, I want it to be absolutely perfect,” you said with a casual shrug of your shoulders, staring at the man across the table from you. “I refuse anything less.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Nico mused before raising his glass in your direction. “Do as you please.”

Your smile widened in response as you took a long sip from your glass.

You were going to break Nico Hishcier and you were going to make sure he sent you running back to New York, if it was the last thing you did.

And then, you would make Jacob Trouba regret even uttering your name into the stupid agreement.

…

“It was targeted?”

Jesper nodded, his face serious and shoulders tensed as he slid a copy of the official police report across the table towards Nico. “Last night,” he said with a heavy sigh. “They broke in, roughed the place up a little and then set it on fire. It didn’t seem like they found whatever they wanted so they burned the place down.”

“Talk about dramatic,” Jack grumbled from his spot on the couch.

Nico shot the younger boy a look before turning back to Jesper. “What did the police say?”

“As much as you would expect,” the blond shrugged. “They don’t want to get involved if it’s dirty work.”

Nico raised a brow. “And is it?”

“You tell me,” Jesper shot back, his jaw clenching. “Did your best friend Trouba mention anything about his boys’ weekend plans to break into one of our warehouses?”

“Bratter is feeling sassy,” Jack sang, snickering even when Jonas tried to jab him with his elbow to keep quiet.

“These attacks have been going on for months,” Jesper pointed out, his lips turned downwards in a frown. “And they aren’t going to stop until we retaliate.”

“We don’t know who is behind it yet,” Nico retorted.

“Of course we fucking do.”

“Jesper,” Nico shot him a look. “I know you don’t like my agreement with Trouba but he wouldn’t break it. We signed the truce.”

“It isn’t official until the wedding,” Jonas spoke up from his spot on the couch next to Jack.

“Jacob Trouba is many things but stupid isn’t one of them,” Nico sighed, ignoring the ‘ehhhh’ Timo muttered out as he leaned back in his chair. “And it would be incredibly stupid to target the people you are trying to sign an alliance with.”

“Still,” Jesper grumbled as he nodded at the police report. “One week earlier and half of our stock could have been up in flames.”

Timo raised his brows. “You think someone knew?”

“I think someone may be getting delayed information,” Jesper corrected.

“I want you and Timo investigating this,” Nico said as he tapped his finger on the file. “Dig out the reports from the other targeted attacks and—”

RING! RING! RING!

Nico frowned a little as the shrill of his phone echoed through the room. He ignored the boys’ curious looks as he reached for it, answering the call and lifting it to his ear. “Nico Hischier speaking.”

“Uh, Mr Hishcier, so sorry to bother you,” a mousy, timid voice spoke from the other side. “This is Jeff from the bank calling and—”

“Get on with it, Jeff,” Nico stated bluntly.

“Right, yes. Uh, there has been a suspicious amount of transactions coming out of your bank today and we wanted to inform you in case you wished us to freeze the accounts or—”

Nico tried to bite back his smile. “Where are these transactions coming from?”

“The last one to go through was a purchase of four hundred thousand dollars for…flowers?”

This time Nico actually let out a loud, boisterous laugh which caught both Jeff and the boys in his study off guard.

“What was the one before that?” Nico asked, clearly amused.

“Three hundred dollars spent at…McDonalds.”

“Keep letting them through,” Nico assured the man on the other side of the phone. “That’s just my fiancée having some fun.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Mr Hischier, and congratulations!”

Nico thanked the man before hanging up, throwing his phone back down on the desk before he turned his attention back to the meeting they were having. However, he seemed to pick up on the eerie silence and lifted his head to find all of the boys looking at him with various expressions painted across their faces.

“Out with it then,” Nico said eventually.

“Count on Nico bagging the most expensive fiancée in New York,” Timo teased, a shit-eating grin on his face.

But Nico just shrugged. “It’s her wedding day. She wants it to be perfect.”

“Even if it leaves you bankrupt,” Jonas snorted.

“As long as she’s happy,” Nico answered, sincere in his words.

“If only Trouba knew how whipped you were for his girl, he would have never agreed to the deal,” Jack commented, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico turned to glare at him.

“She’s not Trouba’s girl,” Nico gritted out.

“Yikes, Boss has claws.”

“Anyone with a pair of eyes can see how whipped Nico is,” Jesper commented with a huff of laughter. “Trouba is, in fact, stupid if he didn’t notice. Now, can we please get back to the main problem before he starts singing limericks.”

Nico frowned. “Hey—”

“My money is on the Sabres being involved!”

“As if they even know how to light a match.”

…

“You look like you have had a busy day.”

You turned your head to find Nico standing in the door entrance, leaning against the frame as his eyes wandered over the dozens of bags in your room. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and a few strands of hair were falling into his face. It almost annoyed you that this was the most dishevelled you had seen him and he still looked so good and put-together.

“I decided to take it slow,” you answered casually, turning back around before you could see the smile tugging on his lips. “I didn’t want to scare Luke off too soon.”

“The boy is tougher than he looks,” Nico commented. “I am sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.”

Your lips twitched. “You weren’t the one listening to him whine about carrying a couple of bags.”

“A couple is an understatement,” Nico mused. “He’s still unpacking the car with Dawson’s help.”

You glanced over your shoulder, something victorious and smug shining in your eyes. “Is there a problem with that?”

Nico flashed you a smile. “My money is your money. My boys are your boys. Knock yourself out, schatz.”

You blinked, his words barely processing in your head before you realised he had already begun walking away. You glanced down at the countless bags littering your bedroom floor, most of them useless purchases you picked up to push the balance higher.

And yet, Nico just walked away without a care in the world.

…

“I really wouldn’t recommend this.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not listening to you.”

“Rogue—”

You rolled your eyes, listening to the satisfying clicks of your heels against the floor as you made your way down the corridor. “He’s my fiancé.”

“He is in a meeting,” Luke shot back. “He doesn't like being interrupted. Not even by us.”

“I’m not you,” you retorted, almost hearing the eye roll from the younger boy following behind you. “And I don’t care if he is in a meeting, he can make time for me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Luke muttered under his breath.

“It is now.”

“God, I’m going to have to plan a funeral.”

You ignored the boy’s last feeble attempts to stop you from going through with it—or to at least knock on the door—but it was hopeless as you reached Nico’s study, hand on the knob and opening the door before Luke could even think to pull you back. Or throw you over his shoulder and run back down the corridor.

The room fell silent as you stood in the doorway.

You didn’t recognise the men sitting across from Nico at the large desk. They were old and burly and quite literally looked like characters out of Sopranos. They turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned downwards at the interruption.

You smiled in response.

“What’s the meaning of this?” One of them spoke, the Jersey accent strong and thick and coating his words generously. “We’re doin’ business here, sweetheart. Bounce!”

You glanced at the man, unfazed before you turned your gaze towards Nico who was watching you with interested eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“We are busy here, lady, can’t you see?” The other man spoke, huffing and puffing in his seat and it took everything inside you not to roll your eyes at his tantrum.

“And now I’m busy with him,” you stated simply, arms crossed over your chest as you stepped further into the room. “Scram. You are done here.”

The first man huffed, puffing his chest out as he opened his mouth to say something but Nico cut him off.

“Go.”

Both men turned to Nico, angry and outraged. “You cannot be serious?!”

“Go,” Nico repeated himself, a little more firmly this time.

The men were smart enough not to test Nico’s patience any further, rushing out the room with their tails between their legs as they did. It almost made you smile the way they avoided your gaze as they did so. You heard Luke let out a sigh behind you, muttering something under his breath as he followed the other men out and closed the door behind him.

“You’ve intrigued me,” Nico spoke up, leaning back against his chair. “What could possibly be so important that you needed to discuss it with me?”

You grinned as you lifted the folders in your hand. “Wedding venues.”

Nico blinked. “Wedding venues?”

“Wedding venues,” you repeated, your eyes eagerly watching every inch of his face for a reaction.

It took years of training to school your features as Nico nodded you over, still relaxed in his chair as he smiled back at you. Back in New York, a move like this would’ve gotten you killed and yet here—

“Show me,” he replied.

Your eyes stayed on his face, waiting for a slip up as you walked towards his desk. You rounded the piece of furniture, pushing the boundary a little bit more as you hopped up on the desk and placed the folder down beside you rather than handing it to him.

“Comfortable?” He asked, his voice almost sounding playful as he reached for the folder.

“I’ve sat on more comfortable desks,” you commented offhandedly.

His eyes darkened a little at that. But before you could even bring yourself to comment on it, he was already opening the folder and scanning through the options.

They were obscene, if you were completely honest. They were tacky and loud and far from a place you would even step foot in, let alone have your wedding in. But they were expensive—so expensive that it would send a normal man into cardiac arrest to see the numbers beside each venue.

Then again, Nico Hischier wasn’t a normal man.

“Which one would make you happiest?” He eventually asked, lifting his head to look at you expectantly.

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you that incapable of making a decision, Hischier?”

His lips twitched. “And if I say I just want you happy?”

“I would say that is a weak man’s response,” you replied, lifting your chin a little. It was a testy comment to make, not one that many men in power would take lightly.

To your shock, Nico just laughed. “Then I say pick the church.”

You raised your brows a little—the church was the most expensive option on the list.

“Do you disagree?” Nico followed up, watching the way you stared at him with an odd look in your eyes.

“No,” you said as you took the folder from him. “The church will do.”

“Is that all?” Nico asked, something in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was like he was eager, whether that was for you to leave or stay, you couldn’t quite work out.

“Yes,” you answered, though you made no move to slide off the desk just yet. “Seeing as I have nothing else to do in this place. Just a sweet, complying fiancée doing her duties and planning a wedding.”

Nico’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Sweet sums you up pretty well, no?”

Your eyes narrowed in a glare.

“I mean, by all means, take the honeymoon planning off my hands if that is what you want,” Nico continued, shifting a bit closer so your foot was nudging his thigh. You were almost distracted by the casual drop of information about the honeymoon he was apparently planning.

“You’re mocking me,” you stated bluntly.

“A little,” he mused.

“You know my reputation,” you added. “Surely you knew what kind of wife I would be.”

“I had my guesses,” Nico confirmed with a nod.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” Nico grinned. “Do you want to reserve the venue or shall I?”

It was safe to say Luke steered clear of you for the rest of the day following your mood after you left Nico’s study.

…

“You don’t get it,” Luke huffed, fingers tapping along the wheel. “This is the best bakery on the east coast, maybe even the whole country!”

You raised your brows. “Is that so?”

“Just wait until you try Peter’s strawberry tarts,” Luke insisted, so serious that it took everything inside you to not snort. “It’s like…heaven in your mouth.”

“Peter is just that good, huh?” You mused.

“You’re teasing me now but you will be wanting the guy to make your wedding cake after you try some of his desserts,” Luke stated confidently.

You had no real plan for today other than the desperate need to get out of the house. You were bored out of your mind and Luke was not too far behind, considering you spent almost every waking hour with the boy. It had been an offhand comment about wanting something sweet that made the boy grab your hand and drag you out of the house.

Luke was adamant that Peter’s Bakery in Hoboken was the best bakery in the state. You had been content to just sit in the passenger seat and let the younger boy ramble on about how all the Devils frequented there, that Candy was known to visit once a week, that Jack tended to hide out there after a particularly bad day.

It was endearing to hear about the place.

It was even more endearing that Luke trusted you enough to take you there, even if you wouldn’t dare to admit that out loud.

“Pete?”

“One sec!”

Luke glanced at you over his shoulder, grinning wider than you had ever seen before turning back to the counter. A few moments passed before a man walked out: brown hair, average build, a little mousy looking. And the apron covered in flour truly added to the baker charm.

“Moose,” the boy greeted with a large smile. “What can I get for my second favourite Hughes?”

Luke rolled his eyes but began listing off far too many pastries and sweet treats for two people to enjoy.

Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from the boy in a booth with a large variety of baked goods laid out on the table in front of you. It was borderline overwhelming and intense but you didn’t have the heart to stop Luke from ordering so much when he kept insisting on all the classics you had to try.

“So,” you began as the boy pushed a slice of apple pie towards you. “Moose?”

“It’s an old nickname,” Luke answered with a halfhearted shrug.

You raised a brow. “How old?”

Luke’s lips twitched. “Peter is an old friend of mine and Jack’s. He…he’s been there for us through a lot.”

“Because our line of business crosses paths with bakers so often,” you mused, lighthearted and playful. You could tell the words were heavier than he was letting on but you didn’t have the heart to start poking at old wounds. Not today.

Luke snorted. “Nah, he needed to lay low after some close calls. He made some deal with Nico. Boss offers him protection, he offers the best apple pie you will ever have in your entire life.”

You shot a glance towards the other boy, working away behind the counter with a sense of ease that told you he was comfortable, that he felt safe even being so out in the open and exposed to the public. It wasn’t something you saw often in this industry when people had a target on their back.

“He did?” You asked, your voice a little softer than before.

“He’s a good guy, you know,” Luke murmured in response, watching your expression closely.

“He has a reputation for being fair,” you commented absentmindedly. “Which is a load of bullshit when it comes to our work.”

“Not with Nico,” Luke retorted. “He is harsh when he needs to be. But he is understanding. He gets it.”

“Hm,” was all you could respond with, your mind spiralling with a million different stories of men in power that exploited and corrupted the world around them in the greedy hunt for more. You had seen men crumble under that desire, you had seen them sacrifice their lives and loved ones to get what they want.

You couldn’t imagine someone having all that power and not being corrupted by it.

“Hey,” Luke whined, all youngest child like, as he lightly kicked your shin under the table. “Stop procrastinating and try the pie!”

You rolled your eyes, making a show of grabbing the fork and cutting off a good sized chunk before shovelling it in your mouth.

Luke looked at you expectantly. “So?”

“It’s good.”

He blinked before frowning. “Just good? Are your taste buds broken?”

“Fine, it’s very good,” you corrected with a small smile on your lips. “But it’s not the best apple pie I have ever had.”

Luke raised his brows. “Oh yeah? And where was that?”

“Tony’s Tiny Bakery,” you shot back, watching as the boy huffed across from you. “It was around the corner from this cute Italian place that did amazing garlic bread too. I’ll have to take you one day, it’s only—”

And then you paused.

And it was stupid to say when you had quite literally spent the better part of the last few weeks in your new home, when you had been coming up to the three month mark in New Jersey. But it hit you that you would never see New York again, not in the way you had growing up.

You were a New Jersey Devil now. You had a new home and new territory. You had a new family you were supposed to be accepting. You weren’t able to step back in the city you grew up in, not without direct permission from the people you used to call your family.

You had been so pissed that day when Jacob had thrown you into the deep end of an arranged marriage you had never known about that you wanted to get him back, you wanted to hit him where it hurt and have one last act of defiance. You had walked away from New York with no proper goodbye because you knew it wasn’t what he wanted.

And truthfully, it wasn’t what you wanted either.

You never got the chance to say goodbye to such a large part of your life and identity. You never got the chance to say goodbye to the people who raised you and the people you grew up with. You never got the chance to visit your favourite places in New York with the freedom of being a Ranger before you jumped ship.

It never really hit you that you missed New York as much as you did.

“I get it.”

You almost jumped in your seat when you felt a hand over your own, when you blinked away the tears welling up in your eyes to find Luke smiling fondly from the other side of the booth. You tried to pull your hand away and pretend everything was okay, but the boy tightened his hold on you.

“I know what it’s like to leave the only place you called home,” Luke murmured, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “It gets easier.”

You nodded, swallowing the ball in the back of your throat before you flashed him a small smile. “This apple pie is pretty damn good.”

Luke’s smile widened. “Of course it is. I don’t mess around when it comes to food, Rogue. Catch up.”

You let out a small but genuine laugh in response.

…

“How quickly can you get dressed?”

Your eyes wandered over your magazine page towards the boy standing at the bottom of the couch you were currently laying on. He was dressed in his usual attire—the shirt, dress pants and nice shoes that probably cost more than the average man’s monthly salary—and raised your brows.

“Depends,” you answered as you lowered the magazine you were halfheartedly reading to rest on your stomach. “Get dressed as in ‘we are walking around the park’ or ‘we are about to go to a gala’?”

Nico smiled a little. “More ‘wear something that is comfortable and easy to carry guns on you’.”

Now that caught your attention.

You sat up on the couch, the magazine abandoned on the pillow beside you as you stared at the boy with interest. “You’re taking me on a job?”

“I was hoping to use your expertise for something,” Nico said with gentle but watchful eyes. “Are you in?”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” was all you responded with before walking past the boy and towards your bedroom.

Less than thirty minutes later, you found yourself slipping out of Nico’s car and looking at the absolute mess in front of you with raised brows, a low whistle of surprise leaving your lips as you took in the damaged property.

“And this was done recently?”

“Two weeks ago,” Nico confirmed with a nod, frowning at the warehouse with a look of frustration and annoyance. “Third warehouse chosen. Fourth targeted attack.”

You glanced at him. “What was the other?”

“A person,” Nico frowned. “We were lucky that their plan failed, which is why I assume they began to target buildings instead.”

“Coward move,” you frowned, choosing to ignore the way Nico snorted a little at your response. “What did the warehouse hold?”

“Just some of our basic exports,” Nico shrugged.

Your eyes widened a little.

He frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, clearly your throat a little. “Just a little surprised you told me, to be honest. I thought you would have given some weird elusive answer.”

His frown deepened a little. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m a glorified stranger,” you retorted like it was obvious.

“You’re my fiancée,” Nico corrected, his voice still serious and sincere as he spoke. “What’s mine is yours.”

You swallowed a little at his intensity. “So this mess is mine too?”

“Just like everything else I own,” he said with a nod. “And as much as is your right to be here as my fiancée, I also brought you because you’re smart. Because you know how to get in people’s heads. Because you’ll be able to spot things neither me nor the others will see.”

“Trouba’s favourite tool,” you deadpanned.

“You’re your own person here, Rogue,” Nico assured you, something else written in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “It’s something you should get used to. You’re a Devil now.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to reply before he wandered towards the desolate warehouse, footsteps crunching with every step he took whilst you were left slightly baffled by the enigma that was Nico Hischier.

…

“So, is she in love with you yet?”

Nico shot Jack a look.

“Because from what Luke’s told me, she has been doing everything under the sun to piss you off. And I’m no expert in love but that doesn’t seem like something someone in love would do,” Jack continued as he settled happily on the couch in Nico’s study—one of his favourite spots.

“Did I not give you a job?” Nico asked bluntly, leaning back in his chair and sighing. He knew there was no point of attempting to do any more work whilst the younger boy was in the room.

“Yeah but we both know I’ll get to it eventually,” he waved the older man off, his hands tucked behind his head as he lounged back on the comfy couch. “This is far more entertaining.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico sniffed.

“I have seen you shoot a man between his eyes without a second thought,” Jack mused, the glee in his voice unmissable as he continued to tease the older man. “And yet, I watched you have a full breakdown to Dougie on whether or not your fiancée would prefer your hair slick back or product free on the off chance you bumped into her that day.”

“I like to make a good impression,” Nico retorted.

“You’re trying to seduce her and failing miserably,” Jack shot back.

“She is my fiancée,” Nico huffed out.

“She is the girl you have been downright obsessed with since she knocked you on your ass four years ago,” Jack corrected. “And she doesn’t even remember.”

“I was undercover,” Nico defended. “Pally hardly recognised me that day, too.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Hisch?” Jack questioned, his brows raised in amusement. “This is getting a little pathetic.”

Nico let out a heavy sigh, raising his hand towards Jack for him to continue. “Okay then, what do you suggest?”

“Less mind games and playing the elusive mob boss character you’ve been trying out,” Jack answered, his voice a hint softer than before and it caught him off guard, “Be Nico—the real version.”

“That was very High School Musical of you,” Nico teased.

“I knew it was a bad idea letting you watch those movies,” Jack playfully groaned but he was grinning back. “I take it back, put the scary mob boss face back on. She is gonna laugh you back to Switzerland if you quote that shit to her.”

“She could be a fan,” Nico pointed out.

But Jack just shot him a look. “I know you’re blinded by love and all that jazz, but even you have to know that is a load of bullshit.”

“Go do you work now, Jack.”

The younger boy gave him a mock salute. “On it, Boss.”

…

In your mind, the plan was full proof, effective and successful.

In reality, it was a form of torture that didn’t have the results you wanted and instead left your brain scrambled on whether you really wanted it to work or not.

When you stepped out of that meeting room months ago, you were under the impression you were stuck in this arranged marriage with Nico Hishcier. A week later, you thought you had a loophole and a clear path back to New York and the life you had.

Instead, you were laying in your bed and reeling that although you may not be the typical mob wife, Nico Hishcier was far from the typical mob boss. And it was completely fucking with your plan.

And maybe you weren’t fully ready to admit it but it was fucking with your desire to go back home too—if New York even felt like home anymore. New Jersey was a breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed, that you never knew you wanted.

The Rangers may have been your family once upon a time, but the Devils felt more like the word than the former ever had. You felt like you were watching the family of them through a window, and you were starting to realise maybe being on the inside wouldn’t be so bad as you thought. Maybe being in a place where they valued and listened to you wouldn’t be so bad either.

But New York was all you ever knew, was all you ever thrived in. It was hard to just throw that all away.

Even if Nico Hischier was making the option of staying very appealing.

Even when some of the other Devils—the ones that weren’t your biggest fans—felt more welcoming than the boys back in New York.

Exhibit A: Jesper Bratt.

Nico had pulled Luke out for the day, saying he needed the boy’s help with a different job. He hadn’t offered to put anyone in Luke’s place. To be honest, you think Luke was only continuing with it because he enjoyed spending time with you too. But it had been Jesper who offered himself into Luke’s role when you had mentioned visiting a few shops in town by yourself.

It didn’t take a genius to work out he was suspicious of you.

You didn’t take it to heart, not really. He wasn’t going out of his way to make you uncomfortable or wary, but the lingering tension was enough to make you observe him with the same watchful gaze.

“You don’t like me.”

Jesper’s eyes flickered to meet yours in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s written all over your face. And the extra gun you slipped into your waistband before we left.”

His cheeks burned a little at your words.

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “You’re his second-in-command. It’s your job to be wary, to have Nico’s back.”

Jesper hummed but didn’t say anything right away.

Instead, a few minutes of silence passed as you two made your way through usual Jersey traffic. The radio was on, but turned on so low that the two of you could barely hear it. The streets were busy, even for a random Thursday afternoon. It was like the world was going on as normal, despite the lingering tension in the car between you and the blond.

“I do like you,” Jesper said eventually. “I just don’t trust you.”

“Because you think I’m going to betray the Devils?” You guessed.

“Because I think you are capable of hurting Nico far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back ever could,” Jesper corrected, seeming to catch the surprise on your face.

“You think I would hurt him?” You questioned, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the words. Growing up in this life had meant you had seen far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back, had meant you had done much worse. And yet the idea of any of it being directed towards Nico seemed to leave you on edge and make the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“I think you are capable of a lot without even realising it,” Jesper answered honestly.

You didn’t reply to the blond but you wondered if your return to New York would hurt Nico.

You wondered why it made your chest feel tight and uncomfortable.

…

“So how did you get the nickname?”

You blinked out of your thoughts, looking over at Luke who was walking by your side. “What?”

“Rogue,” he said with a nod, like that was enough of an explanation. “Nicknames stick in this industry. So, where did you…go rogue to get it?”

You let out a small snort of laughter. “How do you not know it’s my actual name?”

Luke glanced at you, his brows furrowed together. “Is it?”

“No,” you grinned at him before shrugging. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just…never did well with listening to people’s instructions. It was a nickname my father gave me and I guess it just stuck.”

“You listened when Trouba sent you here though,” Luke pointed out, unfazed by the glare you sent his way. You assumed that was bound to happen after you spent almost every day with the boy for the last few months or so. He was bound to feel comfortable enough to poke at the uncomfortable subjects.

“Because I’m stubborn not stupid,” you shot back, giving the boy a look. “I value my life.”

Luke frowned. “You think he would’ve killed you if you didn’t comply?”

“He’s killed people for less,” you shrugged but noted the way the boy still looked uncomfortable, unsettled even. “He wouldn’t have killed me. I’m too valuable, even if I’m disrespecting him. He probably would’ve just put me on some really shit jobs until his ego was healed.”

Luke nodded, still looking quite on edge.

“Luke,” you stopped walking, placing your hand on his arm to catch his attention and make him stop too. Logically, you knew that he was a grown man and he could handle his own emotions. Especially in an industry like this. But another part of you—the part that had spent the last few months with the boy almost every day—felt the need to wipe that frown off his face. “It’s fine now. And it doesn’t matter.”

“Does it not?” Luke shot back at you. “You’ve been trying your hardest to find a loophole out of here, have you not? But you still want to go back there? Back to him? Even after everything he’s done to you?”

You blinked.

“I’m young but I’m not stupid,” Luke huffed out, shaking his head as he took a step back. “It’s—whatever. Let’s just go. You said you wanted to check out that shoe store?”

You took a step forward. “Luke—”

“We should head over now before heading back to the house. We—” He paused before continuing. “I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

…

You didn’t see Luke over the next few days.

He had sent a brief message about being busy wrapped up in a job Nico gave him, which albeit wasn’t the best excuse but you let him off. You weren’t sure what upset him and you didn’t think poking around and asking more questions would do any favours. So, you let the boy take his space and take his time.

It was Luke.

You had no doubts that he would talk to you again when he wasn’t as worked up or upset about the situation.

But the lack of daily companion left you feeling quite lonely, which was ironic considering you had considered your whole stay in New Jersey to be quite lonely as an outcast. You hadn’t realised just how much you relied on Luke’s company until he wasn’t knocking on your door every morning, convincing you to try some new outrageously overpriced cafe using Nico’s card to pay.

You broke around the third day, deciding to seek out your own company in the form of your fiancé.

“I was told you would be here.”

Nico lifted his head, peeking out from under the hood of the car he was currently hunched over. He glanced at you, an expression between surprised and elated as you stood on the opposite side of the garage.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, glancing around the large garage with eagle eyes. “Apparently this is how you spend your limited free time.”

Nico stood up straight, giving you a full look at the white tank top clinging onto his torso. It was criminal the way wiped his hands on a random rag, his biceps clenching with the movement before he tossed it to the side and gave you his full attention.

“I like fixing up old cars,” Nico said with a shrug, though there was a sense of ease in his posture. “It’s relaxing.”

You blinked. “Tinkering around with some old metal is calming? Even if you can’t get it running?”

He laughed. “It takes my mind off things.”

“How…mundane,” you responded, your brows furrowed together as you glanced at the few cars dotted around the garage. You didn’t know enough to know the brands or names of any of them. You didn’t even try to attempt it.

“Mundane is nice sometimes, especially with the lives we live,” Nico retorted and you were inclined to agree.

“This still seems stressful though,” you added.

Nico leaned against the car, arms crossed over his chest like he knew it would snag your gaze. “And what would you recommend I do?”

“I don’t know, something normal people do to relax,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Like, go on a picnic.”

Nico paused, staring at you as he tried to fight the grin off his face. “A picnic?”

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up in mock surrender. “People do it all the time in movies and shit.”

“What movies are you watching?” Nico laughed, though he seemed to enjoy watching the way you tried to hold back your own amusement.

“They have picnics in plenty of movies,” you argued back.

“Alright then,” Nico nodded. “Then we will do it. You and me, tomorrow at twelve.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We are gonna have a picnic and be normal,” Nico stated, leaving no room for questions as he reached for the rag once again. “Unless you have some super normal thing you do to take your mind off things to do instead?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Shooting range.”

“That’s what I thought,” he snorted as he flashed you a grin. “Me and you, schatz, at twelve. Don’t be late.”

…

A small part of you thought Nico was joking about the picnic.

A larger part of you knew the boy would be knocking on your door by half past eleven, dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie and looking so normal. So unlike the mob boss you know him to be.

And the white bucket hat on his head was oddly endearing.

In complete honesty, you hadn’t expected much from the picnic and how seriously the boy would take it. Though, you should have known better when he parked his car, an excited smile on his face as he led you towards the grassy patch in the park where a blanket and wicker basket had been laid out.

“Oh wow,” you murmured out as you walked towards the scene, his palm warm and guiding on the small of your back.

“Really fits the movie vibes, huh?” Nico retorted with a knowing smile.

You snorted. “I feel so normal right now.”

“Then my job here is done,” he smiled as he leaned back on the blanket, balanced on his elbows as he looked up at you.

You were surprised how far he ran with a passive comment. You wondered what it must have looked like to people passing by the two of you, if you looked like a normal couple on a date, enjoying a sweet picnic together. You wondered if it even counted as a date at all.

It was ironic that the man beside you had been your fiancé for the better part of the last four months and you didn’t know much about him, that neither of you knew each other all that well.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Nico paused, looking up from the small plates he was loading up for the two of you. “My favourite colour?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Red.”

“Favourite kind of music?”

“Swiss rap.”

“Favourite animal?”

“I don’t think I have one.”

“Cat person or dog person?”

“Both.”

Your nose scrunched up. “You can’t be both. That’s cheating.”

Nico raised his brows in amusement. “I don’t think I can cheat at a game I don’t know.”

“Just wanted to know what kind of man I am marrying,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Is there where you tell me that being a cat person is your deal breaker?” Nico joked.

Your lips twitched. “It would be something I would have to take into consideration.”

“Might have to keep some secrets to save my marriage then,” Nico said with a sigh, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. You don’t think you had ever noticed that before. It was weird seeing someone in his position show any emotion but intimidation so easily.

You raised your brows. “Doesn’t everyone have a few skeletons in the closet?”

“Is this your subtle way of asking me what mine are?” He questioned, pushing the plate towards you. You were surprised to find a few of your favourite snacks on the plate. You wondered if he had bothered Luke or someone else to find out, or if it was a lucky guess.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” You shot back.

“I would tell you anything if you asked,” Nico replied, the playfulness replaced by sincerity that made your brain spiral a little.

“You know,” you tried to laugh it off. “I don’t think many people in this life agree with you there.”

“I’m not them and you’re not their fiancée,” he answered with a shrug. “Who gives a fuck what they think?”

You looked at him with a mixed expression. “And you’d answer anything I ask you right now?”

He gestured for you to continue. “Try me.”

You tilted your head, taking a few moments to contemplate before you spoke. “Did you know I was going to be the one waiting for you in that room?”

“I did,” he confirmed with a nod.

“And you had no issues with that?”

His lips twitched. “Quite the opposite.”

You shot him a curious look. “And if Jacob had lied to you? If there was someone else in the room?”

“I would have refused the alliance,” he stated simply, like he was reiterating a well-known fact.

You snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“I would have,” Nico insisted, his expression remaining dead serious.

Your smile faltered a little. “Nico.”

“Rogue,” he mocked in the same tone of voice.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Nico frowned. “Who said I was lying?”

“You would have refused an alliance that would massively benefit you?” You retorted, your brows furrowed a little. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Both sides went into that alliance wanting something,” Nico answered with a heavy look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t quite read. “I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t signing shit for anything but that.”

“And that was me?” You teased because the conversation was getting serious and your heart felt like it was in your throat and you were pretty sure you would lose your mind if Nico kept staring at you with those intense eyes. You were also pretty sure you would lose your mind if he looked away.

“Yes.”

You blinked, waiting for him to laugh but he didn’t.

“What?”

“I think you heard me clearly enough the first time,” Nico mused, watching the way a million emotions passed over your face.

“Oh,” was the only response you could come up with.

“Still don’t believe me?” Nico questioned, something like amusement in his voice. Something quite like a challenge too. Like he was expecting you to call him out on it, like he had been waiting for the chance to prove himself.

“And if I don’t?” You murmured, a little more breathless than you intended.

You watched as his eyes dropped to your lips, lingering for a few moments. “Then I’ll find a way to prove it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, though you weren’t even sure what. You didn’t know if you were going to beg for him to do it, to prove it. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to stop playing whatever game he was playing. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to fuck the vague, elusive chat and to just fucking kiss you already.

You were pretty sure it was most likely going to be the last option.

But you never got the chance to even utter a word before the loud, high-pitched shrill of a phone broke the moment.

You blinked, quickly glancing away and taking a few moments to ground yourself as Nico quickly sat up on the blanket. He patted his pockets before slipping his phone out, answering it with a slight peeved off look on his face.

However, that quickly changed when the person on the other side of the phone began speaking, the words muffled but the urgent tone was clear even to you.

It took less than a few seconds before Nico was scrambling to get up, abandoning the basket and blanket before he nodded for you to get up too. His hand was a little more pushy as he directed you towards his car, his face serious and almost murderous as he quickly got in the car, racing to turn it on.

“It’s Jack,” was all Nico could mutter out for context before the two of you were racing towards the house.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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lostberet · 1 month

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⋅˚₊‧ ଳ MOB DAYCARE CHAP. I | min yoongi (m)

𐙚 synopsis: After almost meeting Satan himself, Agust D is forced to take a hiatus from his underwork mob work. However, during his hiatus, he is stumbled upon a 4 year old. And so far, being a guardian is harder than being a mob leader.

༘⋆ genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , humor, romance , violence, suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au , parenthood au .

༘⋆ disclaimer: Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Child Abuse, eventual smut, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

༘⋆ a/note: omg.. I am back with this chapter, and I am so excited to write this series━ I'll go work on Heartburn now... :( likes and reposts are appreciated <3 also name ideas for the kid?

TEASER | NEXT

The rule of this world is━ “The strong is King.” Those who follow this rule, fight each other in order to obtain a title.

A few years ago, a man single-handedly fought through the ice, breaking and reaching its highest point. Those who feared him gave him a title━ Agust D, the Panther King.

Yoongi sighed, his eyes staring into the white void of his living-room ceiling. He was once who they called Agust D. He would have still been Agust D if it weren’t for that fateful night.

Agust gasped for air, his teeth sucking back his lower lip into a tight bite. His left eye clenched shut as blood dripped down his face. He was bloody, although he wished to say the blood wasn’t his, he would be lying. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, some of it sticking to his face by the sweat and blood. With a trembling form, he made his way into the apartment, dropping his weapon on the floor. Each step he took left a small trial of blood behind him. He was tired, so tired.

Yoongi blinked, erasing the memory from his vision as he clenched his jaw. Why the past..? He thought to himself before sitting on the couch and looking at the carpet where a 4-year-old boy lay. He remembered bringing the kid into his home, he weighed almost nothing.

Frowning at the unusual behavior of the kid, Yoongi eyed him as it slept. “Something isn’t right..” he whispered, his tongue pressing gently on his bottom lip. He snapped his fingers, an idea coming to his brain. He grabbed the nearby blanket lying on the sofa, before clumsily laying it on the kid. “Perfect.”

The bathroom mirror was foggy, and the humidity made Yoongi sweat slightly as he dried the kid's hair. The toddler had overgrown hair that almost made him look wild. Yoongi had taken mental notes on the kid's poor hygiene, adding to his theory of the child kidnapping. Not having any child-sized clothing, the gangster had given one of his own shirts for the toddler to wear. A black shirt with the words "MINE" graphed vertically. As the older man dried the head of the kid, the child would mutter out random vocals. Frowning at the confusion vocal, Yoongi removed the towel from the kid's head, causing the kid to loop at him with a bright smile.

“You.. brat━!” Yoongi flinched as he bit back a cuss, lifting his arm up, his eyes noticing the multiple bites on his arm, “was your birth year the year of the dog?!” Yoongi exclaimed, his body trembling in desperation. Another thing Yoongi had noticed was the kid's inability to show proper manners. No matter how hard Yoongi glared at the kid, the kid only looked up at him, giving him a grin and a giggle.

As they both sat in the living room, the child freshly showered and not smelling like trash, traced his fingers on the black leather of the couch, “Since you can’t speak for nish━” Yoongi grunted as he sat next to the kid, scooping some cereal into the spoon, “I bet you don’t know how to use utensils. Come here,” The toddler tilted his head as he opened his mouth, allowing Yoongi to feed him the cereal, “You don’t look like you were raised at all..” Yoongi voiced his thoughts, the child looking at the bowl as Yoongi continued feeding him.

If it was a kidnapping.. And I send this kid away.. What if he doesn’t have a family? Will he then be an orphan? Yoongi physically yelped at the thought, “Not my problem!” His voice came out louder than expected, causing the kid to look up at him. Agust D had no time for anyone, let alone a fucking child. Deep in his own thoughts, the kid wasted no time poorly grabbing the spoon, scooping cereal ( the scoop facing down and getting little to nothing), and bringing it to Yoongi’s mouth, “ah.. Ah?”

Is this kid trying to feed me? Yoongi raised an eyebrow, damn kid doesn't even know how to hold a spoon.. let alone be able to survive on its own━ not like i care. The gangster scuffed, wiping some of the milk from the kid's chin, earning a bright smile that only caused Yoongi’s heart to clench, this child was stabbing his consciousness.

Yoongi threw his head back against the headboard of the bed, his body tingling, "oh.. fuck.." He choked out, his hands caressing the back, hands gripping onto the waist. His hips automatically thrust upwards earning a moan, "sir.." the voice whimpered.

The gangster narrowed his eyes, frowning his brows at the nickname, "I told you not to call me that, especially when we're having sex." He warned, yet his hips didn't lose their pace. He held onto their jaw, making them lock eyes with him, "you know my name,.. say it.." a hint of desperation in his voice as the other only pushed their lips and let out another whimper.

Yoongi leaned in, tilting their head to the side by their jaw, kissing their collarbones, sending a shiver down the spine, "c'mon, baby.. you know my name..' his voice was sweet, but his thrusts were becoming much more rougher, causing the other to grunt out, "or do you want me to fuck you until you remember it?" Yoongi asked, brushing his lips against their neck.

"Fuck.. yoongi,.." they gasped out, their hips buckling causing Yoongi to chuckle, "There you go.. always so good for me.." The mafia leader only pulled their face towards him, slamming his lips onto the other as he roughly kissed them. The kiss muffled both their moans and pants, not wanting to stop the kiss. They sucked and bit each other's lips, addicted to each other's lips.

Yoongi pulled the body close to his chest, feeling the other snuggle onto their skin, warmth hugging his heart. "You cannot leave me, understand?" Yoongi warned, making the other chuckle, "you wund me, sir." Yoongi's eye twitched. Noticing this, the other's hands cupped his face, placing a kiss on his scared eye, "you know that won't ever happen."

Yoongi's eyes opened and with a gasp, he rose from the couch. The clock had struck 3 am, and from what Yoongi could gather, it didn’t take long for the kid to fall asleep. Just a nightmare.

The man groaned, rubbing his face with both hands as he licked his dry lips. His gaze landed on the kid sleeping at the other end of the couch.

That's when your phone rang. You looked away from the never-ending document on your laptop, frowning at the unknown number on the screen you bit the inside of your cheek. After a few rings, you picked your phone up, “Hello?”

There was silence on the other line, before that raspy voice said your name, you felt your body freeze, your heart pumping faster, “I made it clear that I want nothing to do with you.” There was silence on the other line once more before you heard a faint 'clank', “It’s important, plus, I already made arrangements with Namjoon, you’re coming whether you like it or not.”

You could have disobeyed, you could have not shown up in the morning, really, but you were in no mood to deal with Namjoon and his scolding. His never-ending rants of how, even as your boss, he also needs favors. Yoongi was like a brother to him, the one that was able to make everyone's dream a reality and in return, they did whatever they could for him. Bunch of ass kissers you would tell yourself. Yet you found yourself dropping the bags onto Yoongi’s wooden floor, all the color being drained from your face.

You tried to speak, confused and flabbergasted by the sight upon you. But what can you say after meeting the man you had decided to leave 3 years ago? The one guy you verbally told was a quote-on-quote dickhead that only cared about himself and then you quit on the spot, only to work under Namjoon, the guy he was closest with? You only eyed his back, noticing the way he cut the kid’s hair.

“Y━you have a kid?!” Your ears might have started to bleed, a ringing remaining as you angrily turned to look at the owner of the pain, “Taehyung━ you son of a━ My ear!” You hissed as you reached over to grab a chunk of his hair.

Yoongi turned to look at the small group who had entered his home, ignoring the small hairpulling between you and Taehyung. Yoongi only shook his head as he explained the situation to the others.

“So.. that’s not your kid?” Jimin asked, his hand lazily signaling the child, “nonsense,” Yoongi muttered, picking up his cup of coffee SeokJin had placed in front of him on the kitchen table, his eyes glancing over at you, rubbing your head while glaring at Taehyung, “Jungkook and Hoseok are looking into where he’s from.”

“Yeah, Agust wouldn’t have a child this fast.” You stated, Yoongi’s ears twitched, all your attention on the kid who has sleepily rubbed his eyes and walked over to Yoongi, “What will you do with him for the time being?”

“Sexist..” you said under your breath, making SeokJin abandon his cooking and turn to you in a snap, “untrue, Yoongi just needs help for the time being━” Now it was you snapping towards SeokJin, “raising a damn child!”

The older one pushed his lips together, “sexist.” Taehyung stated once more, a small smirk on his lips as he winked at you, causing you to flip him off as you carried the child, feeding him some overnight oats.

As SeokJin, Taehyung, and you stayed in the kitchen, bickering at each other, Yoongi was outside on the balcony of his living room. Holding a pocket knife, his fingers tracing over his initials, NamJoon and Jimin behind him, “Hyung, about the kid..” Jimin started, nervously elbowing NamJoon, “It’s just.. If they have eyes on the kid like last time..”

Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, stabbing the knife into the wooden balcony railing. Jimin flinched, NamJoon placed his hand on Jimin’s shoulder signaling to head back inside, “We’ll take care of everything, hyung.”

Drops of blood stained the cement floor, there was tension in the air, and all Agust could do was kneel before his rival, “You finally show up,” The rival chuckled, one of his hands gripping the hair of a child, eyes blindfolded by a black fold. The kid looked beaten, scared, “If you want me to let him go.. Let’s make a deal.”

The rival threw a blade towards Agust, causing the man’s brows to frown. He was desperate. Agust felt his body tremble, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he picked the blade up, raising it slowly towards his stomach area. Slowly, ever so slowly, pressing the blade into his skin.

Yoongi’s body jerked, causing him to wake from his dream, “shit..” he whispered, his hand flying to his stomach, rubbing it as the dream reminded him of the incident. He licked his dry lips, before sitting up on the bed.

He entered the kitchen, his eyes staring at the cup of water━ besides him, his phone with your contact ready━on the floor, the 4 year old bounced and played between his legs. Yoongi bit his lower lip before he grabbed the kid and sat him on the counter, grabbing his phone and calling you before shoving the electronic onto the kid’s hands.

The phone rang a few times before you picked up, your voice grumpy and sleepy, “yes?” Yoongi looked at the kid and pointed at the phone, suddenly forgetting the child’s inability to speak. Confused━ the kid tilted his head, “m. ah.. ma..ma?” mostly dedicated towards Yoongi, the child called out. It caused you to sit up from your bed and run to get your shoes, “kid?”

You barged into the mountain mansion, not bothering to knock as you slammed the door shut and ran to the living room, “Kid?!” You scanned for the kid, not finding him anywhere before your legs automatically ran to the bedrooms.

Upon opening door by door, having each bedroom memorized (not by your own good), you arrived at Yoongi’s. Your hand reached over to the doorknob, it wasn’t like it was your first time you’ve stepped inside.

Upon entering, you notice Yoongi and the kid sleeping. The child lay on top of the gangster, as the gangster himself had his arms wrapped around the child, almost using him as a teddy bear. You gulped, stepping out the room and slowly closing the door, “Y/n?”

You froze, “yes, sir?” a grunt, “don’t call me that.” You scuff, “..kid butt-dialed me.. I’ll head home now.” The bed creaked and footsteps soon followed, the bedroom door opening━ revealing Yoongi, a sleepy look on his face with the sleeping child in his arms, “Stay the night. It's late.”

You only stared at him, unsure of what to do, so you frowned and shook your head, “No. I can’t do that anymore.”

Yoongi only pressed his cheek on top of the kid's head, sleepy eyes staring down at you. if only he didn't look as innocent, “not for me━ for the kid.”

It left a bitter taste in your mouth. The fact you laid next to Yoongi as he slept, the child curling up on him and Yoongi letting him. Or the fact that you once craved that feeling, one that you couldn’t have━ a feeling of warmth, he knew that. And so, you swallowed back the bitterness and closed your eyes. Tomorrow is a new day.

Tag-list building..: @sol3chu

#bts fanfic #bts fic #x reader #bts army #bts #bts x reader #kpop #min yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #min yoongi fic #yoongi smut #bts x you

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