#are we surprised I am defending him again??

[brittletalismanvigilante]

The wrong woman

Guys. This is my first fic here. I'm newly into UFC so you know...don't kill me for all the mistakes. English sure as heck not my 1st language so, you know, it's all fun and games. Btw this is part 1. There will be more if you guys like this. Lemons will follow, too.

[ISLAM’S POV]

I was being beaten down, savagely. I am used to winning, and finding myself in such a humiliating position was unbearable. My opponent had me pinned down and his fist repeatedly collied with my head and torso.

In a desperate attempt to find my coach and get any advice, I looked up for a moment, and caught sight of her.

She was crying – because of me. I don’t know if any woman – besides my poor mother – ever cried because of me.

But there she was – big tears falling from beautiful hazel eyes, looking right at me. The expression of pain and horror on her face – again, my fault.

Was it mortification that I allowed that such a woman sees me like this? I don’t know. From somewhere deep inside me, I found the strength, and I simply stood up. My opponent still clung at me, and I just shook him off. Like when a dog comes out of water and quickly shakes the water off, just like that I got rid of my rival. Quickly, I turned to find him landing on the opposite side of the UFC cage. He was just getting up when he met my knee, mid-air. The fight was over.

Cheers erupted, and in a moment, I was surrounded by my brothers.

“Islam, brother, what was that?”, my coach and my best friend, Khabib, asked me, “It seemed as if you’re were done – and then just stood up? Like it was nothing?!”

In all the shouting, cheering and the general crowd, I didn’t manage to give him an answer. I ran toward the part of the cage where I remember she was watching me, and I climbed the cage. While raising my arms in victory, my eyes roamed the first few rows of seats – and sure enough, there she was!

Her eyes, while a bit puffy from tears, now shone with luck and grace. For a few brief moments, our eyes met, and I swear – there was no one else in the entire grand arena but the two of us.

It lasted briefly, because a moment later, I was pulled down. Usman and Zuba wrestled me in their bear-like hugs, and then all my other brothers wanted to congratulate me. Yet again I defended our belt – we did it again.

When I turned again, I couldn’t find her anymore.

[ELLEN’S POV]

A new client, how exciting! I took a quick look at myself in my laptop camera – I looked fine. Professional. I felt ready. The client was a bit vague in the info questionnaire I sent him, but this was not my first rodeo. I knew all there was about optimizing your business with no-code solutions.

I clicked on my Zoom app, and sure enough, the client was already waiting in the digital waiting room. Mr. Jones. I clicked to let Mr. Jones in.

But on the other side was not Mr. Jones.

I looked at the other person and tried to understand what was happening.

“Hello”, he greeted me with a bright side.

“Hi”, I answered, automatically. I still wasn’t sure – but it seemed like Mr. Jones was the guy..the UFC guy? From a fortnight ago?

“Do you remember me?”, he asked. His smile wavered a bit.

“Do you remember me?!”, I fired back, astonished.

“Yes!”, he laughed, “You made me win!”

“I what?!”, I asked, sure that I misheard.

“Your cried. And I didn’t like that. So I won, so you stop cry.”, he said as if that explained anything.

“I’m…I don’t…uhmm.”, I lost my words, and then I remembered just how badly I cried, since this man got beaten up so badly right in front of me, “Are you better now?”

“What do you mean? I’m good.”, he laughs again.

“So, wait – you’re not Mr. Jones, are you? You’re not a client?”, I asked, stupidly.

“Ah, sorry. Wanted surprise you! Ta-da!” his laughter doesn’t stop, “You are hard to find!”

And then, followed by two full hours of broken English from his side, and loads of stuttering from my side, I told him how I actually know nothing about MMA, how that fight was the first event like that I ever attended, and only because my friend’s rich boyfriend couldn’t make it last minute, she took me with her instead (so that the ultra-expensive tickets right nest to the cage wouldn’t go to waste) and how I actually hadn’t heard about him before that at all. How I was horrified by all the fighting and punching and blood, and how when the last fight – his fight – came up, I was already half out of my mind because of all the violence. And when I saw, so close up, how he was being beaten, it was too much, and I cried.

I didn’t tell him how I thought he looked absolutely godly when he first entered the cage. How I admired his body. How beautiful his face was.

He told me how he saw me how I cried, and how he wanted me to stop. So he won. And he told me how he wanted to thank me afterwards, but I was already gone. And that over the last two weeks, he basically talked to a million people to see who was seated in that area. How he actually reached my friend, who told him about my business, and he thought it would be hilarious to reach me disguised as a client.

He didn’t tell me how I haunted him for the last two weeks, how he searched for my eyes everytime he was in a cage, and how his brother started to notice how absent-minded he became. He didn’t tell me how he didn’t include his brothers into this search.

He flirted with me. Respectfully. But he did. And he did ask me out.

And although I told myself that this was a bad idea, I said yes.

And although I knew it would be better to wait a bit, we agreed to meet the very next day.

And although so many red flags were up – I decided to let myself fall.

[ELLEN’S POV]

Our first date lasted the entire night. We talked. We laughed. We were glued together from the first moment. The entire night he lightly touched me, here and there, but always with respect, always playfully, timidly, but constantly. There were moments when he stared at my lips, and there were moments when I felt like I just had to..climb him. We both pretended as if we didn’t feel that pull. Evening turned into night, and night into dawn, and this was where he finally dropped my off by my apartment.

Just as I was about to turn my back and enter into my flat, I felt his hand on my arm. He turned me back towards him, and he slowly lowered his lips towards my face.

“Hmm, beautiful..very, very hard..to say no”, he whispered, his lips just milimeters from mine.

I was breathless, and I had nothing clever to say, but instinctively I moved just a little fraction closer to him.

That was invitation enough, and his lips were on mine. The kiss was innocent for an entire second, and as I parted my lips slightly, it turned heavy and seductive. That kiss was both of us surrendering. I knew there would not be a question from Islam that I would answer with a “no”.

And I felt as if he would ask from me…everything. Everything that I can possibly give.

[ISLAM’S POV]

Ellen didn’t know the trouble I went through to stay in her town for the three months that passed by too quickly.

She didn’t know how many rules I broke for her.

I lied and lied and lied to my brothers to keep Ellen and me going.

Of course, after a while they became suspicious. While I trained hard and diligently as ever, they noticed that outside of training, I was always absent.

Lying to Khabib was the hardest. I love him more than myself. I respect him like no other. All that I have, all that I am, I owe to him and his father. So one evening, while I saw the concern in his eyes yet again, I spilled the beans. That I met a girl. That she’s..not ours. That I fell in love.

Khabib remained calm, but let me know how dissatisfied he was with me. He reminded me that my family has arranged with another family that I would wed their daughter. That arrangement stood from when I was 8 years old. And she’s still waiting for me – the girl I saw maybe 3 times, the girl who barely looked at me, the girl who knew that we have nothing in common except that we have to do something that we both don’t want to – for our entire life.

He gave me another month to “let it out of my system”.

Meanwhile, I fell harder for Ellen, day by day. Everytime it was harder to let her go. Everytime it took that much more effort not to rip her clothes and throw her under me. And now only that – I desired more than her body. She made me laugh. She gave me safety that I didn’t know I yearned. She talked to me. She was so gentle with me. After receiving punches all my life, now I had someone who cherished me like I was..breakable.

[ELLEN’S POV]

His big body was over me, and he pressed me with his massive weight – in all the right places. I moaned and my hands found their way to his hard member. Over clothes, sadly.

“Please”, I said, since I lost any sense of shame. I was wet for this man and I wanted him.

“No”, he said, but made no move to get rid of my hold.

“Isu”, I whispered, while kissing his neck – knowing his sensitive spot.

“No”, he said, now more weakly.

“Why”, I asked, desperately.

“No married”, he answered through his teeth.

“Let’s get married”, I dead-panned.

“You crazy”, he laughed and rolled over.

“I’m not crazy – I’m proposing!”, I said, seriously.

“Crazy!”, he laughed.

“Islam Makhachev, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”, I said, seriously, “I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. I will learn Russian and I will learn how to cook your weird dishes. I’ll move to the mountains if you want, ok? Will you marry me?”

“Ellen!”, he laughed in indignation, “You can’t ask me, I ask you!”

“Well, do you?”

“Do what?!”

“Do you ask me to marry you, then?”, I laughed. It was a crazy situation. I was both in love, horny and irritated.

“You want me ask?”, he asked me.

“Obviously!!”, I yelled.

“Wanna marry?”

“Yes!”

“Live in Dagestan?”

“Eh, yes I guess!”

“Babys?”

“Yes!”

“Become Muslim?”

“What, that too? Do I have to?

”It would be good.”

“OK, I’ll see what I can do. No promises, tho!”

“But babys Muslim!”

“OK, ok, Muslim babies!”

“Then we marry!”

“Ok, can we…???”

“You marry only for dick!?”, he laughed.

“You know that’s not true…”, I laughed as well.

“After we married, you get dick, every night, everywhere.”

And they say romance is dead?!

[KHABIB’S POV]

When Islam told me about the approaching wedding – things were bad. Really bad.

This time, I wasn’t calm. I was furious. I yelled. I punched him. I insulted him in any possible way.

He took it. When I hit him, he didn’t try to defend himself. I beat him – I beat him bloody and bruised. He took it all.

I demanded that he stop this nonsense. He looked at me with those sad eyes and I knew there was no chance he would let go of this fixation.

I threatened. To kick him out of our brotherhood, our family. To leave him penniless and disgraced. He cried – like I haven’t seen him cry since we were children. But he wouldn’t budge.

And then he begged me to meet her. He was sure – once I saw them together, I would see that this was actual love. Love that surpasses religion, and his family’s promises.

“Islam, my brother”, I cried and hugged him, “You’re going the wrong way – so wrong. The dishonor. The sin. For something that is temporary – it is lust that is clouding your mind. Islam, hear me. Hear the brother that loves you.”

“You will meet her, and you will see.”, was the only answer he gave me.

And true enough, I did see her a few days later. The pretty woman, modestly dressed, with intelligent eyes, glued to Islam’s side like his shadow, obviously in love – looking at him as if he holds the entire world in his palm. Pure adoration.

And Islam, my brother made of stone, the rough animal with kind eyes, the man who smiles but never really lets anyone in – looks at her with all the gentleness he can have, cherishing her every step.

I see the accusation in her eyes when she looks at me. Islam’s face still is filled with traces of my fist. She says nothing – but only because he forbade her. I know that it is only a question of time when this western woman will dare to raise her voice at me.

I also see that they will not be divided easily, and not by me – at least not at that moment.

I don’t have the heart to let my brother fall. I don’t like it, but I approve of a civil wedding to take place.

I also pay a hefty sum to Islam’s fiancé’s family back home. No matter the amount, the brother let me know they will come for Islam – sooner or later. I forbid such talk – albeit half-heartedly.

Only a week later, they are married. None of us comes to the wedding.

[captainknox]

So since some of y'all are posting some major mischaracterization of Kevin and Jeans relationship in TGC I thought I would come on here and set the record straight(haha) on what I have been seeing from my perspective on what was revealed in this series and some thoughts i just wanna yap about and hear y'alls thoughts on:

!!!SPOILERS SO BEWARE!!!

!

Brothers, friends, teammates, or partners: (+ what's revealed about their relationship from TGR and why I disagree with a few takes I have seen on here, that try to define their relationship as anything, when its complicated and undefinable to Jean himself.)

Since folx are taking things literally, I think it's important to note and remember that most things Jean says about him and Kevin's relationship is a lie. A lie that they had to keep up to separate themselves in the nest and from Rikos rage.

That being said, when he says that Kevin is not his friend, it leads me to interpret that is a knee-jerk reaction that was trained into him to deny because of the Nest. (I do not think he is a friend, because at this point I dont even think Jean knows what one is, or would say he has any).

We also are shown that when Jean feels emotional and is about to share what he shouldn’t he self harms to stop himself and control what he says. Which he does here as well when pressed further about Kevin being his friend or partner and his feelings toward him:

he repeats what he most likely was forced to say over and over as Riko and the master beat him for Kevins whereabouts.

I also do think he means it when he says he wanted Kevin to die, both of them saw no escape from the nest and from the abuse, the only way out they ever saw was death. They both clearly made a pact, my personal theory based on what Jean has said is that If he dies, it has to be by Kevin and no one else in (TSC):

Their relationship is too complicated for other characters in the series to understand, and though it hurts Jean when Kevin calls him, his brother, I think it truly is how Kevin categorizes their relationship. I also think that Kevin's view of Aaron and Andrews relationship also influences how he labels their relationship(I can dive into that at a later time).

Though Jean says he hates Kevin multiple times throughout the series, he never defends himself when Kevin calls him out on that lie. So also saying that he feels just hatred or animosity toward Kevin, feels incorrect as well.

So I think the ball is in Jean's court for how he wants to define their relationship. Something, to my knowledge he has not done yet. He either deflects or says 'no' to whatever label people use.

Kevin victim blames/ denies Jeans abuse:

Jean(our beloved unreliable narrator) is still living in the Nest mentally at this point in the series, and is still falling back on Raven conditioning which impacts how he sees Kevin and how their relationship plays out between them. A relationship where they had to hide their abuse from everyone but each other as stated in TSC:

Kevin, refuses to deny what happened to Jean to those he cares about, or deny his importance to him, but respects what Jean wants to share with others, which is the only reason he ever lies or hides information about Jean.

Jean does as well, in TSC when Thea demands he explains, he does not tell Kevin's story, all he says is "believe him." In this scene he is also trying to distract Thea from asking about the S/A, so do not take it out of its context, it is just important to note how he will always admit that Kevin was abused, but will not break his trust by sharing his story in the same way that Kevin does for him.)

When Kevin calls the S/A "history," its part because he is unaware of the full truth as is stated by Jean in TSC:

And more importantly because he does not know what Jean has shared with Jeremy and will not break his trust.

Now this scene being argued about the most in TGR has some of the most worst misinterpretations that I have seen, and I think its because people don't remember that Kevin has had more time to be seperate from the nest and adjust to the "normal world", so people don't notice the way he also still has the same fucked up views as Jean regarding the world. He also, up until a few months prior in the series, was still under/fighting the master/riko ownership of him.

When he does talk about the S/A, he is explaining how they justified their (the ravens/ riko) actions because they had no other choice. It was their reality and the rules with which they had come to accept about the world, not that he personally is justifying it.

What he says here is important:

Followed by this:

We also learn later, that Kevin did try and defend Jean. And the conversation highlighted above, implies he tried to bring up reporting it to Jean, but he would not.

At this point, Kevin does not know what Jeremy knows in this moment, because Jean will not even discuss it fully with Kevin when he brings it up, so he is unaware what Jeremy knows of the S/A. He also still refuses to break Jean's trust so he censors himself (acknowledged by Jeremy as well in this conversations):

-Kevin saw how the Ravens reacted in the aftermath. He knew none of them would even defend him (even Thea would write away their abuse while it was happening, as is seen when she confronts Jean in TSC).

-When he is stating that the age of consent is 16, what he is telling Jeremy, is that even if he wanted to go and report it, the only person who could have was Jean. Not that he thinks Jean was old enough to consent.

Also important is what Jean says in a previous chapter + when he talks to Andrew, you can see how both Kevin and Jean literally almost echo each others words/ perspective on things: (sorry about the bad highlighting)

Here he is talking about himself not Jean's justice (which i saw floating around as if that was how Kevin felt about Jean reporting things...) :

Does that mean Kevin would stand by Jean if he ever wanted to testify? We won't know yet, but based on my interpretation and the only other proof we have seen of him defending victims (testifying on behalf of Andrew and Aaron during the court case, a scene which it is implied by jeremy heavily affected him), I am going to say yes.

Important to note: Kevin knew and has stated that if he spoke out against the Ravens they would hurt Jean. He was also restrained by that fear. Which is why the time he finally lets himself loose, is only after Jean is safely with him and the foxes and he knows that Riko can't reach him. Even Jeremy, notes a difference since Jean was finally out of the nest:

Things I feel it's important to mention and consider when looking at their relationship:

-They both are invested in each other getting better.Kevin willingly agreed to share all his trauma with Betsy so that she can help Jean. Kevin, willingly tells her everything horrific he endured in the small chance that it would make Jean feel safe enough to talk to her and get better. But I don't think we should ignore Jean's confrontation with Kevin about his drinking.

-Kevin also respects every time Jean tells him to leave or stop. We see this in the TSC and again in TGR:

-The minute Jean is actually uncomfortable we see Kevin back off. Yes he is bossy, rude, and invited himself into Jeans space, but that is also a reversal/familiarity of their time spent together. The minute Jean says no, Kevin respects it. (I have a lot to say about the coffee grabbing, and my the amount of times Kevin grabs his hands whenever he senses Jean's distress, throughout the series, but that will be a later date)

-The few times they ever get physically violent it is Jean who initiates it first. I would argue that Jean slips into his past role as well, throughout their interactions just as much as Kevin does.

-Kevin defending Jean during the interview, and keeping Jeremy's promise.

Last thoughts:

Jean himself, never denies the abuse that Kevin faced, in fact the only few times he is willing to mentally acknowledge the abuse, its when he is referencing the psychological and physical abuse and games Riko played on him and Kevin. So... If Jean himself does not deny that Kevin was abused as well, why do y'all remove Kevin's actions from that context??

Now I'm not condoning either of their thoughts or behaviors, its fucked up, and it's meant to be frustrating that they both could say this about themselves and each other. But Nora's books are meant to be re-read, because they often have so many small easter eggs and deeper meanings that aren't revealed until later.

Please proceed with some reading comprehension and understanding that these characters are all messy and traumatized and do things that you won't morally agree with, that just makes them a well written character.

and finally the exchange that made me almost throw my kindle, all because Kevin asked:

[yasministration]

the giant squid - harry potter

summary: harry and his friends find out you're afraid of the giant squid wc: 0.8k // pt ii concussions and interruptions au

The conversation between Harry and his friends is loud and boisterous, their energy undoubtedly a result of the shining sun. You don’t necessarily partake in the conversation, but it’s not because you don’t like the big group of gryffindors your boyfriend is part of. Harry’s arms are around you, and you’re enjoying yourself enough just being in his presence and listening to them. They’re funny, you notice.

Seamus interrupts Ron with a hand on his shoulder, mumbling “Mate, your fears have escalated from spiders to anything that moves! Hermione, how are you dating this man!?” Hermione laughs, rolling her eyes and adding on “Yeah, you should’ve seen how fast he ran away from me when I saw him after he missed our date for detention.”

Your laugh is genuine, and you only double down with laughter when Ron is interrupted over and over again as he attempts to defend himself.

“Right,” Neville starts, “So Ron’s top five fears are: spiders, his girlfriend, his mother, Snape and Ginny.”

“Might as well narrow it down to people in general and you’ve got three empty spots.” You joke with a loose shrug of your shoulders, and a wide grin forms on your face as the group around you laughs. Your boyfriend’s best friend looks at you with pure betrayal flooding his eyes. “Okay, Ron. Top five fears: spiders, people. Uhh, studying, people and spiders-ow!”

Seamus clutches his bicep, and Lavender is quick to wrap her arms around her boyfriend’s waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “At least Seamus can be comforted by his girlfriend.” Dean stage-whispers, and everyone laughs this time, even Ron.

“Alright, but what about Neville’s fears?” Ron asks, and everyone immediately comes to the shyer boy’s defense. There’s a clear favourite in the friend group. “What, so we’re going to pretend Neville wasn’t scared shitless of y/n for the first three months she and Harry dated?” Your eyebrows snap up in shock and you look towards Neville, who looks as though he’d rather be anywhere but under your scrutinising gaze.

“Looks like he still is!” Dean cries, an arm wrapping around Neville’s shoulders. “We sat next to each other for a year in Transfigurations!” You point out loudly, an offended expression on your face. Harry’s chest vibrates behind you, and Lavender leans across the empty circle to tell you “And you should have seen his face after every class. Like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Wow. I truly am hurt, Neville.”

“No, no I didn’t mean-”

“I’m only joking.” He deflates, letting out a relieved sigh that only makes his friends laugh harder. Seamus tugs his girlfriend closer to him, his eyes fixed on you. “Alright y/n.” You glance over at him, feeling oddly targeted. “We know everyone’s fears here but you. What’s your top five?”

Harry stiffens behind you, and he opens his mouth to change the topic of conversation, but your reply comes quick. “Oh, easy. Number one, the giant squid. Number two, giant squid. Three, uh, the giant squid.” Immediately, comments are thrown around as you continue listing the giant squid as your biggest fears. They look surprised at your mundane fear. It was expected for Ron to have a fear of spiders, but no one was that scared of the giant squid unless it tried to drown them.

Harry removes his arms from around you and moves to your side so he can look you in the eyes, an amused smile playing on his lips as he asks “Honey, you’re scared of the giant squid?”

“She’s so scary!” You insist, arms flailing around. “And she loves passing by the common room, which sucks so bad. I’m convinced she knows I’m scared of her — one time she even looked at me in the eye!” Dean slaps a hand over his chest, crying out “She!?” and Lavender questions “What do you mean look you in the eye!?”

You’re not sure if you like this sudden attention on you. You’re reminded in the moment that you’re the only Slytherin here. “Yeah, she. It’s kind of- I don’t know, we all refer to her as she.”

“We, as in the slytherins?” Hermione asks curiously, and you nod your head. “Yeah, and you can see her swimming by all the time in the rooms under the stairs.” Your voice gets quieter as you realise no one knows what you’re talking about. “I’m guessing you guys haven’t been to the common room.”

“No,” Lavender shakes her head, glancing across the circle to Hermione. “We were at that party with you the other night, remember?” She asks, and you nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Oh yeah. I’m guessing the glass rooms were closed.”

“Glass rooms?” Echoes Neville, and you grin. “Yeah. It gets trippy when you’re drunk.”

Everyone goes silent for a long moment, and you scan the group, an idea popping into your head at the intrigued looks on their faces.

“Okay. Clear your Friday night, we have plans.”

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[youthguk]

Terms & Conditions: Part 2 (Final Act)

when the suit comes off, the truth does too.

pairing: CEO’s son!Jungkook x assistant!Reader

summary: You swore you came here to build a career — not fall apart in the hands of the CEO’s son.

warnings: power imbalance, office tension, explicit sexual content (oral sex m. receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessiveness), infidelity (both parties), arranged engagement themes, physical violence (fight scene), public scandal, emotional manipulation, toxic power dynamics, angst, some hurt/comfort.

w.c: 10k

Part 1 is required reading. This is a finale part 2.

You don’t even wait until the floor clears for lunch.

There’s no strategy left in you anymore — no calculated timing, no softened voice. You step into the corridor just as the meeting room doors close behind him, your clipboard still clutched in your hand, the adrenaline already humming in your ears like static. And when he sees you, he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pretend to be surprised. His gaze settles on yours with that same maddening calm — like the night he spent inside you meant nothing, like the woman draped over his arm the next evening wasn’t wearing the exact same shade of lipstick you left smeared across his throat.

Drawing in a single breath, you face him. "You're engaged."

It's not a question - it doesn't need to be. The silence that follows hangs heavy between you, thick enough to suffocate.

He releases a long sigh and, unusually, drops his typical facade of sarcasm and control. Meeting your gaze with unreadable eyes, he stands with hands in his pockets like a defendant who knows the verdict won't matter.

"Yes," he says simply. "I am."

You remain perfectly still, fingers tightening around your clipboard as you deliver your next words with razor-sharp precision. "So what was I, then? Disposable? Or just free?"

Your words strike true - you catch the flicker in his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw, the shallow breath he takes. Yet he offers no apology, no explanation. Instead, he responds with the detached tone of a business presentation.

“It’s not like that.”

“No?” You step closer. Not much. Just enough to make him hold your gaze harder. “Then explain it. Explain why I was bleeding wine in front of investors while you stood there with your fiancée, saying nothing.”

He exhales through his nose, slow and tight, voice lowered now, like the weight of the conversation is finally dragging his composure down with it.

“It’s a business arrangement,” he says, words deliberate. “Old money. Shared capital. Our families have been connected since we were teenagers. This isn’t about love, or lust, or even choice. It’s about control. It’s about deals with names older than either of us.” A pause. “It’s expected.”

You laugh — short, bitter, too empty to sound like anything real.

“Expected,” you echo, your voice cracking on the word like it’s poison in your mouth. “And I was… what? Unexpected? A glitch in your system? Something to delete once the ink dried?”

His silence and downcast gaze speak volumes.

Your breath catches unsteadily as your heart pounds against your ribs. "You could've said something," you whisper, the words barely audible. "Could've stopped. Didn't have to kiss me, didn't have to stay."

His voice takes on a sharp edge. "And you didn't have to let me."

The accusation hits you like a physical blow, leaving you frozen in place. When you finally find your voice again, it emerges quiet and glacial. "I wasn't the one promising anything."

He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable but his voice carrying notes of both defense and warning. "You had a boyfriend."

The words strike deep - not because they're false, but because they expose the very wound you'd hoped he'd forgotten. He catches every micro-expression that crosses your face: the catch in your breath, the clench of your jaw, the momentary downward flicker of your eyes.

"You think this was one-sided?" he murmurs, drawing closer. "That I seduced you from nowhere? You kissed me back, begged for it, moaned my name while your boyfriend's contact was still in your phone."

You flinch but hold your ground, because beneath all the anger lies an unbearable truth: he's right. And that very fact feeds both your hatred for him and your self-loathing.

✓

You cut him from your life completely. No acknowledgment when he stands at the printer, no response to his comments in campaign threads, no glance during Monday syncs. You give him nothing - not a breath, not a look, not a hint of the woman who once surrendered to his touch.

Though you refuse to meet his gaze, you can feel it following you - heavy and deliberate, as if trying to summon back the version of you who trembled at his voice. Instead, you present him with a carefully crafted facade: high collars, red lipstick, clipboard held like armor. This version of you is untouched by memory, unmarked by the intimacy you once shared.

Two weeks later, she arrives. Nami. Her visit is mentioned casually in a morning brief about corporate guests from London, but the moment the elevator doors open, you understand. She embodies effortless elegance - her cream suit perfectly tailored, her heels precise, her smile polished to perfection. She and Jungkook move together with practiced grace, his arm hovering near hers without quite touching, their matched presence speaking of wealth and careful calculation.

Your stomach twists as you try to ignore them, but when his burning glance finds your desk, something shifts inside you. As Minho from strategic ops approaches with coffee and a smile, you seize the opportunity. Your fingers brush his arm, your laughter flows freely, your gratitude comes with lowered lashes and a voice too sweet to be genuine.

When you finally look across the space, Jungkook stands with Nami but his eyes are fixed on you. He remains motionless except for the tightening vein at his temple and the slight shift of his jaw. In that moment, you discover something colder than satisfaction blooming in your chest - the realization that you could wound him without a single touch, just as he wounded you.

You maintain your performance with Minho, your laughter pitched just loud enough, your proximity carefully calculated. Though you don't look Jungkook's way again, you can feel his unwavering attention. When you finally return to your desk, your smile falls away like a discarded mask. You press your lips together and resume working, knowing that if you must bleed, at least you're making him feel every drop.

✓

It’s late when he finds you again — not by accident, not by fate, but with the kind of deliberate intensity you can feel long before you hear the footsteps approaching from behind. You’re the only one left on the floor, most of the office dark now except for the hallway lamps casting low, golden streaks across the concrete, and the single strip of cold light above your desk where you sit, pretending to finish the expense report you opened twenty minutes ago but haven’t touched since.

You hear him before you see him — the soft thud of his shoes crossing the carpeted floor with just enough pressure to announce him and no one else.

He doesn’t speak your name — not at first — just lingers behind your chair for a moment too long, his presence as heavy as ever, a pull you can feel at your back like heat from an open flame.

When he finally moves, it’s slow — fingers brushing the edge of your desk, not touching you yet, just hovering like memory, like warning, until he steps closer, his voice low, already rough, already wrecked.

“You’re ignoring me.”

Silence is your only response as you click aimlessly through a spreadsheet, your eyes fixed on meaningless numbers while your throat constricts with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Say something,” he pushes, his voice darker now, not cruel, but desperate in a way you’ve never heard it. “Or do you only speak when you’re on your knees?”

His crude remark ignites something in you. Rising with controlled fury, you send your chair rolling back with a sharp clatter. Your body turns to face him in one fluid motion as you shove his hand off your desk, stepping into his space until you're toe to toe, your carefully maintained composure finally shattering.

"Don't touch me." The words cut through the air between you, crystalline and absolute.

He remains rooted in place, breathing hard with stormy eyes and hands flexing at his sides - a man struggling against the magnetic pull between you, fighting the urge to close those final inches.

"I can't stop wanting you," he confesses through clenched teeth, each word brittle and raw. "You know that, right? You feel it too. Don't lie to me."

"You don't get to want me," you counter, your voice trembling with the effort to maintain your resolve. "Not while you still belong to someone else."

A soft curse escapes him as he reaches for your wrist, seeking something solid to anchor himself to - but you wrench away before his fingers can find purchase, your next words slicing through the tension like a blade across silk.

"Break it off."

He freezes as you fix him with an unwavering stare, your eyes blazing not with tears but with a fury that threatens to blind. "If you want to touch me again, if you want me at all," you continue, each word deliberately cruel and precise, "then end it. End your deal, your arrangement, your legacy contract or whatever the hell you call that woman, and choose me."

His jaw flexes, shoulders rigid, a muscle ticking in his cheek like the last thread holding him together. "It's not that simple," he manages finally - a hollow defense from a man suddenly realizing how little control he truly has.

Your voice drops to a whisper, steady and final. "Then this is over."

You leave him there, your heels clicking against the floor as you walk away without pause or backward glance. Your exhale trembles in your lungs as you disappear down the corridor, leaving him frozen in the harsh fluorescent light. The message is clear: if he wants you now, he'll have to earn you.

✓

You download the app that same night, your thumb hovering over the red-pink icon for a full minute before you tap it — like even that act alone requires courage, like even pretending you’re ready to move on might tear something inside you loose.

You don’t tell yourself it’s a statement. You don’t pretend it’s casual. It’s not about hunger or curiosity or trying to bury the feeling of Jungkook’s body still inside yours. It’s about escape. About choice. About quiet rebellion in the form of swipes and curated smiles and profiles that don’t mention empires or legacies or what their family owns in London.

Dan is the first to reach out, a welcome change from chasing someone else's silence. You like the fact that he doesn’t make you chase, doesn’t smirk behind every word, doesn’t leave you staring at your phone for three hours wondering if you imagined the weight of his silence. Dan is polite, easy to talk to, refreshingly available — a man who replies in full sentences, asks about your work with genuine interest, doesn’t look at you like you’re the puzzle he wants to solve before he breaks it.

You go on your first date with him the following Friday — a corner booth at a rooftop bar, not flashy, not elite, but just nice enough to make you wear a dress that hugs your waist and lipstick that isn’t red. Dan compliments you the second you sit down. He doesn’t stare at your mouth when you speak. He orders a whiskey neat, listens when you talk, smiles when you laugh. When he walks you to the curb and asks if he can see you again, he doesn’t linger too long or press too close. He just touches your elbow, soft and brief, and waits for your answer.

You say yes, though you're unsure if it's attraction or desperation driving you - if you're trying to forget or simply reclaim ownership of your body. That night, lying alone in bed, untouched by choice, you realize it's the first time in weeks you haven't dreamed of chains against your collarbone.

Dan becomes a steady presence. Your meetings increase from weekly to twice that, each time marked by thoughtful gestures - good morning texts before important meetings, unexpected coffee deliveries, genuine interest in your work and opinions. He never mentions your past, and Jungkook remains unspoken between you. Dan represents something fresh - no complicated history, no clandestine encounters, no sin-stained conference rooms. While love hasn't bloomed, you're finally open to its possibility.

The revelation comes naturally one morning, neither planned revenge nor calculated provocation, but something far more potent: simple truth. You're standing by the design team's table, adjusting files while half-listening to Lisa, the new junior manager from strategy, chat about Gangnam restaurants. Her perfectly manicured hand curls around her cold brew as others hover nearby, feigning work while eavesdropping.

When Lisa turns to you, eyes bright with curiosity about your upcoming second date, you feel your throat tighten. Across the floor, Jungkook stands with his back partially turned, close enough to overhear. Something reckless and wounded inside you makes you straighten your spine as you answer with practiced casualness, as if your voice had never caught in his throat.

"Tomorrow actually," you say, matching Lisa's enthusiasm when she comments on Dan's apparent interest. You offer a practiced smile - the kind reserved for men who don't leave marks on your soul. "He's nice. Stable. Makes plans, follows through."

Though you don't look directly at Jungkook, you notice the shift - his fingers gripping the desk edge with barely contained violence, his jaw tightening, shoulders tensing with unspoken words. His silence speaks volumes, and you savor this moment of control, cold and satisfying like salt in someone else's wound.

The smile remains fixed until you reach your desk, where reality spins slightly behind your eyes. You remind yourself of your choice - if he claimed it wasn't simple, you're making it elementary. You're moving forward, even if the progression feels like dying.

✓

It's been a month since you first let Dan in - not into your heart or the part that still twitches at Jungkook's voice, but into your space and body. When it happened, it was slow and considerate, with gentle hands and a mouth that didn't demand. You told yourself it was the right decision, even if it wasn't passionate or dangerous.

Dan had stayed the night, his chest warm against your back as he slept peacefully. You laid awake counting the ways his touch failed to ignite you, wondering when settling for "good" had become your compromise.

Now in the break room with your coworkers, you wear practiced casualness like armor as Mina leans in with a conspiratorial smile. "Are you still seeing that guy? The tall one?"

"Dan?" you ask, lifting your coffee cup.

She nods while Jiyoon from HR chimes in, "He's hot. Quiet, but... the good kind of quiet."

You could deflect, but something defiant stirs within you. "We've been seeing each other for a while now," you say evenly. "We slept together last weekend."

Their heads tilt forward as soft oh's and knowing mm-hmms fill the air. When Mina grins expectantly, you offer a measured laugh and a simple "He's good. Very... attentive."

It's just a casual comment, but the sudden silence behind you - where the automatic doors whisper open and closed - speaks volumes. You don't need to turn to know it's him. His presence pulses like a second heartbeat as you calmly sip your coffee, letting your words linger.

He stands frozen, tension radiating from his rigid frame, before walking away without a word. Though he doesn't speak, his silence echoes through your veins for hours as you approach the end of your workday.

You’re five minutes from slipping into your coat, catching the last train, and crawling into your apartment where Dan texted that he might stop by, and where your body aches more from stress than arousal. Your eyes are dry. Your shoulders sore. You’ve done nothing wrong all day, and yet the tension hasn’t left you since that moment in the break room — the quiet that trailed behind you like perfume, his silence thickening the air every time he passed.

The email lands in your inbox at 7:52 p.m. sharp.

From: Jeon Jungkook

Subject: Campaign Budget Review – URGENT

Need your eyes on the attached. Need edits by tonight. Stay.

The email lands without greeting or explanation - just a demand to stay late and review the campaign budget.

Though you could decline with a curt "will handle first thing tomorrow," you find yourself staying, unable to break free from the pull he still has on you after these past months. The numbers only need minor adjustments, but you meticulously revise each cell, turning the task into an act of quiet defiance.

By nine, the office falls silent save for your typing and the occasional sweep of headlights through the glass. His arrival comes not as a sound but as a presence - a shift in the air like an approaching storm. You maintain your focus on the spreadsheet, refusing to acknowledge how your pulse quickens under his gaze as he approaches your chair.

"You're sleeping with him." His words cut through the quiet.

You turn slowly, deliberately calm as you meet his eyes. "I'm sleeping with someone who isn't engaged," you say coolly. "Something new after you, I like that."

Though he doesn't flinch, his hands curl into fists. "Why?" The words strain like fraying rope. "You're bored. I know you are."

"And yet," you murmur, rising to face him, "I'm still choosing him over you."

He moves with sudden intensity, reaching for your waist with an instinctive need. You shove him away hard, your voice sharp with anger. "Don't you fucking touch me."

Instead of apologizing, he advances again, eyes burning. "You think I'm okay seeing you with someone else?" he hisses through clenched teeth. "You think I'm sleeping well at night, watching you walk around here like none of it meant anything—"

"Good," you cut in, breathless but unflinching. "Now you know how it feels."

His silence speaks volumes as he stares at you, finally understanding that what lies between you has transformed from seduction into consequence. You walk away first, knowing that this time, he has no right to follow.

✓

It’s the kind of evening that doesn’t tolerate mistakes — an annual investor gala held at the Seoul Grand Marquis, a glass-and-marble beast of a venue tucked into the heart of the business district, where every chandelier costs more than your rent and every napkin bears the weight of legacy branding. This night is about power, about vision, about shaking hands across glass tables while making eye contact that means money, and you’ve known since the moment the invitation appeared in your inbox that this would be a war disguised as a party.

Every department has representatives attending — not just for visibility, but for survival. The gala is where acquisitions are hinted at, expansions teased, internal stars subtly ranked by who they’re standing next to and how loudly the room stops to listen when they speak. It’s also the one night each year when employees are permitted to bring a date — a silent status symbol more than a courtesy. It’s the company’s way of saying: show us who’s beside you, so we know who you are outside of your salary.

Dan had offered without hesitation. He’d even asked what color you planned to wear before choosing his tie, showed up to your apartment early that evening with flowers wrapped in white tissue and a nervous smile that looked too genuine to ignore. You’d let him help with your zipper. You’d let him kiss your shoulder as you stepped into your heels. And you’d told yourself, not for the first time, that normal wasn’t boring — that stability could be seductive in its own quiet way.

You arrive just past seven, hand resting light against his arm, your dress a sleek, open-backed slip of black satin that clings at the waist and falls like smoke to the floor, elegant but not attention-hungry, chosen precisely for its control. You wear no necklace, just earrings — thin, delicate, silver — and your lipstick is not red. You’ve been careful with every inch of yourself tonight, each detail designed to say: I am not here to play the game. I am here to win it.

Dan’s hand lingers on your lower back as you’re escorted toward the mezzanine ballroom, his voice soft, full of small compliments, polite jokes, quiet awe at the decor. You listen, you smile, you nod — and yet even as the champagne flute settles between your fingers and the soft strings of a quartet unfurl through the air like silk, there’s only one thing you’re aware of beneath your skin.

The anticipation coils within you like a rising tide. You feel it the way sailors sense an approaching storm - not with fear, but with the quiet certainty of something inevitable approaching.

The air shifts, almost imperceptibly, but with unmistakable weight.

Conversations pause mid-sentence. Laughter drops in pitch. Heads begin to turn in one slow wave, like a tide drawn toward something gravitational. And you know — before you turn your head, before you finish your breath, before you even dare glance — that it’s him.

Jeon Jungkook arrives with all the ease of someone who has never had to ask permission to exist. His suit is black, tailored within a millimeter of precision, cut to showcase the width of his shoulders and the power of his frame in ways that were never accidental. His shirt collar is open. His watch is new. His posture is effortless. And beside him — arm tucked lightly through his, gaze serene, steps measured like choreography — walks her.

Nami.

Her dress is a shade between champagne and cream, expensive in the quiet way only generational wealth understands, cut high at the neck but low at the back, revealing the smooth curve of a spine trained to never flinch. Her hair is swept into a twist that probably cost more than your entire outfit, and diamonds gleam at her ears, her throat, her wrist — no single piece overwhelming, but together they form a statement louder than any introduction.

Together, they look untouchable - a picture of perfection as she leans into him with the quiet confidence of someone who belongs there. Her fingers brush his sleeve with practiced familiarity, each gesture speaking of countless moments shared and countless more to come.

While Dan remains absorbed in conversation beside you, eagerly trying to charm the executive before him, you feel yourself drawn across the ballroom into Jungkook's unflinching gaze. The man who once whispered promises against your skin now stares at you with an intensity that makes the rest of the room fade away.

His eyes find yours deliberately, purposefully.

He looks at you — all of you — and his stare does not flinch. His gaze traces your neckline, lingers at your mouth, dips to the curve of your waist where Dan’s hand rests lightly like a placeholder. And for a long, long moment, he says nothing.

His eyes speak volumes in that moment - a dark intensity that matches your unwavering stare. When you finally break his gaze, it's not from fear or weakness, but because you've seen enough. This carefully crafted facade - the ballroom, the elegance, the man himself - has lost its luster, and you're no longer interested in maintaining the illusion.

He doesn’t come near you, not once, not even when protocol would have allowed it, not even when the polite mingling between departments would have excused a nod, a half-smile, a harmless comment about the wine or the music or the work you're both supposed to be doing — instead, he remains at a distance all evening, and yet you feel him watching you like heat from a closed door, like the memory of being touched in a place no one else can see.

There’s no space between your bodies anymore, not truly — not with how often his eyes find you across the ballroom, always in the quiet between speeches, always in the hush just before applause, in the breath before someone says your name — his gaze never lingering long enough to be obvious, but never glancing away quickly enough to be innocent, always returning, always waiting, as if his vision can reach through fabric and skin and hours of practiced indifference.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

You smile at Dan’s quiet jokes and accept the compliments from passing executives with a grace that feels like performance, not for the company, but for him, because everything about tonight has become a silent refusal to be anything less than composed — and if your spine is rigid beneath the satin of your gown, if your glass trembles slightly in your hand when you sip your champagne, no one else seems to notice.

Dan remains effortlessly attentive, not pushy, not overbearing, his presence beside you gentle in the way a safe harbor is, the kind of man who places a hand at the small of your back only when necessary — never to mark, never to command, only to anchor — and it’s during one of those moments, when you’re leaning in to listen to a conversation about the new China expansion strategy, that his fingers slide across your waist and settle low, pressing with the faintest pressure at the curve of your spine, grounding you without even knowing he’s touching a live wire.

You feel it instantly — not Dan’s touch, but the reaction it causes. Across the ballroom, Jungkook’s body shifts — subtly, almost imperceptibly, the kind of movement only someone who knows him too well would recognize — and even while mid-conversation with a group of executives near the bar, you see it, the sharp turn of his head, the flicker of his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders the moment Dan’s hand settles exactly where Jungkook’s had once rested just before pushing you against his office door.

He doesn’t make a scene — he never does — but you see the way his jaw tightens, the way his hand flexes at his side like it’s fighting the need to close into a fist, the way his attention fractures mid-sentence as though his entire body has just become too tight to contain what he's feeling.

And then he walks away — not excusing himself, not smiling, not even pretending to maintain appearances, simply turning his back on whoever is still speaking and disappearing through the crowd with the kind of cold, singular focus that only ever means one thing when it comes to him: he’s going somewhere he isn’t supposed to be, to do something he’s no longer allowed to want.

Dan leans closer, says something about the main course arriving soon — something warm, something ordinary — and you nod, forcing a smile as if you’re still listening, still present, still in control.

But your body is already moving, your fingers setting down your glass, your eyes flicking toward the hallway behind the reception arch where the corridor leads away from the chandeliers and the silk and the curated spectacle of luxury, into the dim space lined with marble and mirror — a place built for privacy, for reapplication of lipstick and last-minute touch-ups, and, tonight, for whatever this has become between you and the man who just walked into the dark.

Without a word to Dan, you slip away into the shadows - drawn, as always, by a force stronger than reason.

The hallway behind the ballroom is dimly lit, lined with gilt-edged mirrors and low recessed sconces, the carpet thick enough to muffle footsteps, the air faintly perfumed with expensive citrus and something sweeter beneath it — and when you step past the velvet curtain that separates noise from silence, laughter from lust, you already know exactly where he’s gone.

The restroom is a cathedral of indulgence — marble floors, gold-trimmed stalls with private doors that close to the floor, velvet-paneled walls that swallow sound, plush settees for resting, reapplying, restrategizing. It’s the kind of room built for discretion. The kind of room that hears things and never repeats them.

You find him by the mirrors — his jacket off, sleeves rolled, chest rising a little too quickly for someone who claims to be fine. His eyes meet yours in the reflection first, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You stand there, inches apart and centuries away, the silence between you thick enough to drown in.

And then he turns.

“You need to stop,” he says, not as a command but as something closer to a plea, his voice rough, ragged at the edges, like he’s been holding it in all night and it’s finally breaking loose. “You can’t keep looking at me like I didn’t fuck you against a glass table and promise you it meant something.”

You don’t move. His steps are slow but certain as he closes the distance between you, and when he reaches you, his hands hover — not touching, not yet, just suspended at your waist like he’s begging your skin to remember him.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he breathes, softer now, just for you. “Not with you pretending he’s enough. Not with me standing there next to her, tasting you every time I close my fucking mouth.”

Fire burns in your gaze as you meet his eyes, wordless. Without hesitation, you pull him into a kiss.

Not gently. Not sweetly. You kiss him like punishment, like hunger, like you want to taste the lie in his throat and make it yours. His hands crash into your body the second your lips part — one gripping your jaw, the other dragging down to your hip, to your ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise. You pull him in with both fists knotted in his shirt, teeth clashing, breathless and furious and starving.

He breaks the kiss to bite at your neck, dragging his mouth down your throat as you walk him back into the furthest stall, slamming the door behind you with a force that makes the hinges rattle. He’s already unbuckling, already reaching for you, already so hard it’s like his body’s been waiting for this since the moment you left him standing in that empty office.

You sink gracefully to your knees before him, hands sliding up his thighs with deliberate intent. And when you look up at him, lips parted, breath hot, eyes blazing, you don’t need permission. You wrap one hand around his cock — flushed, thick, dripping at the tip — and lick a slow, deliberate stripe up the length, your tongue flat and obscene, your stare never wavering. He groans, low and choked, one hand flying to your hair, the other gripping the stall wall like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

You start slow — lazy, teasing, letting him feel every inch of your mouth as you take him in, lips sealing tight, jaw relaxed as you begin to move, your hand following where your mouth can’t reach.

“Fuck—” he gasps, eyes falling shut, hips jerking just slightly. “God, your mouth—fuck, I missed this—”

You hum around him — deep and wicked — and he moans so loudly it vibrates through your chest.

He can’t stay still.

He starts moving with you, thrusting gently, then harder, until one hand’s cradling the back of your head, the other buried in your hair, guiding you with slow, rough pressure as your lips slide wet and filthy down his cock again and again, saliva spilling at the corners of your mouth.

You let him take control, wanting him to come undone beneath your touch. And when you suck harder, faster, your throat relaxing, his rhythm stutters — his hips twitch, his breath breaks, and he pulls you off with a sharp, wet pop, panting, dragging you up into his arms, kissing you with his cock still hard between you, his mouth crashing into yours like he needs you to taste yourself on his skin.

The kiss deepens into something raw and primal, tongues and teeth clashing as their hands grasp desperately at each other. He spins you, presses you against the velvet-paneled wall, his hands yanking up your gown, dragging your panties down with such urgency that you nearly fall forward — but he catches you, hoists you up, lifts your thigh, and sinks into you in one deep, punishing thrust that knocks the air from your lungs and sends your moan echoing off the polished gold.

There's nothing gentle about the way he takes you - it's raw and primal, the way it's always been between you. Not when months of silence and pride and punishment collapse into a kiss against velvet and gold, into the way his hand cradles the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher so he can fuck you deeper, so he can hear exactly how soaked and wrecked you already are for him.

He fucks you with a fierce desperation, like you're both his salvation and destruction - a sacred thing he worships even as he breaks you apart.

Every thrust is rough, brutal, breathtaking — the kind of rhythm that feels almost angry, like he’s trying to rewrite history with each snap of his hips, like he’s punishing you for every night you kissed another man and didn’t come apart like this, for every time you smiled at Dan like your body didn’t still ache for his hands.

He grunts low in your ear, hips snapping up as your back arches, as his fingers dig into your thigh so hard you know it’ll bruise, but you don’t care — not with the way he fills you, the way his cock drags inside you with punishing precision, not with the way your breath hitches every time the base of him slams against you and makes your whole body jolt.

“Fuck—” he groans, voice breaking at the edges as his forehead presses to yours, sweat beading at his temple, “You feel—fuck, you feel better than I remember.”

Your answer is nothing but a moan — low, ragged, your fingernails tearing down his back through his shirt, your teeth clenching around the chain that hangs against your throat now, heavy and swinging with each thrust, catching between your lips as you pant, as you let it cut into your tongue like it’s his name.

He grabs your hips and pulls you down harder onto him, hips pistoning now, his thrusts deeper, meaner, his teeth grazing your neck, your collarbone, biting the slope of your shoulder until you gasp and clench around him so tight he curses again, voice rough in your ear, all breath and gravel and loss.

“You miss this?” he growls, dragging his lips across your jaw, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as his pace falters, then sharpens again, somehow harder, somehow deeper. “Miss me fucking you like this? Filling you up so deep you forget your fucking name?”

You whimper — not a word, not an answer, just the kind of helpless sound you make when there’s no more room in your head for anything but him. Your hips roll instinctively, chasing friction, clinging to him as the coil inside you twists tighter and tighter, unbearable now, heat flooding low in your stomach.

His pace never falters, his rhythm relentless and demanding. One hand leaves your thigh and slides up to your chest, yanking down the top of your gown just enough to expose the curve of one breast, and his mouth is on you instantly — tongue hot, lips sucking hard as his teeth graze over your nipple, as your head hits the wall behind you and you cry out, desperate now, pleading.

“Please— Jungkook, please—”

He groans against your skin, teeth grazing your chest, voice shaking with the effort to hold back.

“Say you missed it.”

“I— fuck, I— I missed you,” you gasp, your voice breaking as your nails dig deeper into his back, as your thighs start to tremble around his hips. “Missed this— I need— please, don’t stop—”

“I’m not gonna fucking stop,” he snarls, his pace suddenly brutal, unrelenting, his body crushing into yours, one hand tangled in your hair now, the other still fisted in your thigh, his breath hot against your lips as he kisses you again — filthy, wet, tongues colliding, teeth scraping, nothing left of restraint or dignity, just hunger clawing out of both of you like it had been caged for too long.

You come undone with a sob, your entire body trembling as your climax rips through you like fever and lightning, your hands fisting in his shirt and lips parted around his chain. Your thighs lock around him as your nails dig half-moons into his shoulder blades, marking him as yours in this moment of blazing truth.

And when you bite down on that chain — hard, trembling, gasping his name like a prayer — he follows with a broken moan into your mouth, his thrusts growing erratic, then jerking once, twice, deep, as he spills into you, his whole body shaking with it, his mouth crashing into yours like he can’t bear to come without you swallowing it whole.

You stay like that — still joined, still breathless — forehead to forehead, hearts galloping in sync, the air around you heavy with sweat, sin, and something too quiet to name.

Outside, beyond the velvet walls and marble doors, the music drifts on, while inside this sanctuary, you remain locked in an intimate silence with him, neither of you ready to voice the weight of everything left unsaid.

Your breath is still tangled in his mouth, his forehead still resting against yours, the weight of what just happened settling over you like the hem of your gown, rumpled now around your hips, clinging to sweat-slicked skin. Your heart is still galloping in your chest, still racing from the pace of him, the sound of him, the way he said your name like it had always been meant for him to say.

And Jungkook is still inside you.

He doesn’t pull out immediately — just holds you there, both of you trembling, breathing hard, his hands gentler now, soothing, one trailing down your thigh, the other brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face.

And then he smiles - not with triumph or victory, but with the resignation of a man who's accepted losing everything else just to have this moment.

“You’ve got glitter on your nose,” he murmurs, voice thick and wrecked, and when you frown, confused, he leans forward and kisses it. Just once. Softly. Playfully. As if the gala still exists somewhere far away and the only thing real in the world is this ridiculous little smear of sparkle and the woman beneath it who just broke him open all over again.

You laugh — a small, incredulous sound, still breathless, still shaking, and he grins like the sound of it is the only thing that’s ever mattered.

“I hate you,” you whisper through your smile, biting back another laugh as he kisses your jaw, your cheekbone, your collarbone where his chain left a faint indentation in your skin.

“No you don’t,” he breathes, adjusting the strap of your gown with slow, reverent fingers. “If you did, you wouldn’t still taste like yes.”

You hit him lightly on the chest, and he catches your wrist mid-slap and kisses the inside of it, then your palm, then your mouth again — slower this time, almost delicate — before you finally push him back with a grin.

“Get dressed,” you murmur, already reaching for your panties, smoothing your gown down, fingers trembling just slightly. “You look like someone who got exactly what he wanted.”

“I did,” he says simply, tucking himself back into his slacks with only half a care, his eyes never leaving you, even as he buttons his cuffs again. “And I’d look a lot worse if you hadn’t.”

It’s absurd — how easy this feels, how light, how young. How it almost resembles happiness.

You fix your lipstick in the mirror above the sink. He watches you like a man watching a storm recede, like he’s not ready for the calm yet but knows it’s dangerous to ask for more.

And then, as you open the door together, walking into the velvet-lined hallway with your shoulders back and your smiles just barely still in place — you see her.

There she stands - Nami, waiting with crossed arms and perfect posture in her immaculate dress. Her expression remains composed, but her eyes slice through both of you with devastating clarity, as if she's been anticipating this moment while hoping you wouldn't be foolish enough to make it real.

When she speaks, her voice carries a quiet, lethal precision: "Of course it's you."

You and Jungkook freeze in unison, but Nami simply turns away with the elegant dismissiveness of someone brushing dust from silk. The deafening silence lasts only a heartbeat before you both lurch into motion - Jungkook cursing under his breath as he adjusts his jacket, you stumbling after him on trembling legs, your hand reaching desperately for his sleeve as you call out her name. But she continues down the endless hallway, refusing to acknowledge either of you.

✓

You’re still walking side by side, your steps nearly in sync but your heart thrashing beneath your dress like it knows this illusion of calm is already burning at the edges, when the sound of raised voices cuts through the ambient hush of the ballroom and makes you stop cold in your tracks.

At first, you can’t quite place the tone — it’s not yet shouting, but it carries the kind of tension that doesn’t belong among canapés and champagne, and it wraps around your spine with the certainty of something about to go very, very wrong.

Then, through the ambient hush, your name echoes through the hallway, followed immediately by his in a voice that makes your blood run cold.

You turn the corner just in time to see Nami standing beside your shared table — poised, polished, untouched by the unfolding storm — her flute of champagne still untouched in her hand, her expression unreadable in the way only women raised in legacy can manage, as if nothing happening around her is worth acknowledging. She doesn’t look at you. She doesn’t look at Jungkook, either. She looks directly at Dan, with her chin tilted slightly upward, her voice smooth and composed, as if she’s merely answering a question no one had the nerve to ask.

“I thought you should know,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting just slightly, not enough to be called a smile, but enough to make the accusation feel like a verdict, “she’s been fucking Jungkook.”

And there is no gasp, no cinematic moment of a dropped wine glass — just the collective breath of the room catching and holding, suspended like a violin string pulled tight, waiting for someone to cut it loose.

Dan stands still at first, not blinking, not reacting, just staring at Nami like he’s trying to decipher whether what she said was real or a very cruel joke told far too well. The silence that stretches in the beat that follows feels sharp enough to slice clean through your skin.

Your throat closes around his name as you take a step forward, not fast, not frantic, just instinctive — as if proximity alone could soften what he’s already begun to believe.

“Dan—”

His head snaps toward you. And in that moment, his expression — the confusion, the hope, the disbelief — shatters.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he says, and the volume of it is enough to silence every conversation within earshot. A few heads turn. More follow. By the time he takes a step back from the table, every gaze in your radius is fixed directly on the three of you.

“I defended you,” he says, voice shaking now, but loud, too loud, and cracking under the weight of humiliation. “I told people you weren’t sleeping your way up. I fucking trusted you.”

Your skin goes cold as shame washes over you, leaving you frozen and mute in its wake. His words hang in the air like smoke after a fire, and though he hasn't said it outright, that one cruel word - slut - vibrates beneath the surface of his tone, threatening to break free. Just as you brace yourself for what comes next, you feel him.

Jungkook — behind you now, still close, but his presence shifts, sharpens, becomes something solid and storm-dark in the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t even need to see him to feel the change in him — how still he goes, how quiet, how charged.

Dan sees him too. And the second their eyes meet across the chaos, Dan’s lip curls into something bitter and ugly and furious.

“Oh, now you want to show your face?” he spits, his voice rising, unhinged now. “She fucks you in secret and I get to be the dumbass holding her coat like a goddamn idiot?”

And maybe that would have been the moment it ended. Maybe if Dan had stopped there, if he hadn’t gone further, if he’d swallowed the rest of what he was about to say and let the shame stay between the three of you — maybe then it could have been salvaged.

But he doesn’t. He looks you up and down, then turns back to Jungkook, and with a voice too loud and too clear, he finishes the sentence like he’s spitting blood.

“Enjoy your office slut while she still lets you have her.”

A heartbeat of silence fills the room before Jungkook launches forward with no warning. He just steps forward with a precision so sudden it looks like instinct, his fist connecting with Dan’s jaw in one clean, devastating arc that sends the entire room spinning around them like they were never meant to witness this moment, but now can’t look away.

Dan crashes into the edge of the table behind him, knocking over wine, cutlery, crystal, dragging a stunned gasp from the nearest guests — but before he can right himself, Jungkook is on him again, grabbing the front of his suit jacket, fury carved into every line of his face as he shoves him back and shouts something you can’t even hear over the surge of movement and voices and chairs scraping the floor as people rush forward to separate them.

Someone grabs Jungkook’s shoulders. Two others pull Dan away, blood at the corner of his lip, eyes wild with disbelief and rage. Security is already on its way. The scene is already ruined. The gala is over before dessert.

And all you can do is stand there in the wreckage — exposed, humiliated, heartsick — with the taste of Jungkook still on your tongue, and the entire room watching like they’ve been waiting for this to happen from the beginning.

It isn’t just the party that ends in silence — it’s something deeper, something more private, something inside you that doesn’t know how to keep breathing once the shouting has faded and the chaos has been contained into the shallow hush of luxury’s aftermath, as if the room itself is trying to pretend nothing ever happened.

The moment Jungkook is dragged back by two men in tailored suits — the kind of men who are hired not to be noticed unless something needs fixing — and the moment Dan stumbles upright, unsteady, his lip bleeding and his tie askew like it’s choking him instead of holding him together, is the same moment your body seems to finally register what it’s done, what you’ve done, as if the weight of your choices only now decides to settle across your skin like a second gown, invisible but suffocating.

The tears don’t arrive in any cinematic fashion; there is no gasp, no trembling lower lip, no dramatic collapse to the floor — only the hot, dry sting behind your eyes that refuses to blink away, the slow withdrawal of blood from your fingers until your hands feel foreign, and the unbearable tightness in your chest that makes it impossible to breathe without thinking first, as if even your lungs are ashamed of you now.

Without running, speaking, or begging, you remain still - exposed beneath their stares. You simply stand there, the way shame always does — still and exposed and far too visible — as the room folds in around you like paper, heavy with whispers and half-averted stares, the air thick with what no one is brave enough to say aloud but everyone is already retelling in their heads.

The ballroom, once glittering with laughter and wine and curated joy, has turned into a stage abandoned mid-performance, every guest now an unwilling actor stuck in place with champagne still bubbling in flutes they no longer remember picking up, as conversations die mid-sentence and eyes flick between Dan, Jungkook, and you, tracing the messy triangle like a scandal lit in gold.

And standing at the center of it all — flawless, upright, radiant even in betrayal — is Nami. She hasn’t moved, not even a little; her posture remains exquisite, the line of her shoulders unbent, her hands still folded gently in front of her like this evening belongs to her still, like nothing has been taken from her because she refuses to acknowledge anything could ever be taken from her at all. Her gown is still perfect. Her lipstick hasn’t smudged. Her expression has not cracked.

She does not speak to you, nor look at you, nor shift so much as a breath in your direction — not because she’s uncertain, not because she’s restraining herself, but because there is nothing left in this room that requires her effort, and that includes you.

Her silence carries a devastating weight beyond mere emptiness - it's the crushing finality of everything that's been lost.

And what makes you crumble — not outwardly, not visibly, not yet — is the realization that she never needed to raise her voice, never needed to fight, never needed to defend herself or even retaliate, because she knew all along that you would lose this on your own, that the moment she said your name aloud, the rest would collapse without her lifting a finger.

Dan, still tasting blood, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wild with disbelief but now clearing, now hardening, and when they land on you, there is nothing soft left inside them — no confusion, no heartbreak, only the sharp glint of something that once trusted and now despises.

“You two deserve each other,” he mutters, his voice no longer raised, but quiet and dangerous in the way a knife is when it rests against skin, and without looking back, he turns and walks straight through the crowd, parting the onlookers like he’s been released from a cage and no longer cares who sees the wreckage left behind.

No one moves to intervene, and Jungkook remains rooted in place, making no attempt to follow. He remains where security left him — his lip split, his white shirt crumpled at the chest, his knuckles smeared with red like ink — and though he does not speak, the intensity in his gaze burns across the distance like a thread that refuses to be cut. He does not apologize. He does not look ashamed. But his eyes, dark and electric, are no longer filled with want — they’re filled with need.

He isn't asking for forgiveness - he's asking you to choose him despite everything. And you stand frozen, breath caught in your throat, unable to form words or even move beneath the weight of this moment.

Because somewhere beneath the soft echo of heels clicking away and gasps fading into murmurs, you finally feel it — the ruin, the humiliation, the spotlight you can’t step out of — and it presses down on you with a clarity so sharp you could almost laugh.

In the wake of shattered crystal and spilled wine, the gala lies in ruins. Dan stands with blood on his lip, while Nami remains pristine and untouchable in her calculated victory. And you - you are the architect of this destruction, having sacrificed everything not for ambition or vengeance, but for that most dangerous of forces: pure and consuming desire.

✓

The night is colder than it should be, air damp and heavy with the kind of post-rain clarity that makes the concrete shimmer like glass, the luxury sedans and town cars lined up in the marble-bricked circle drive outside the venue suddenly looking less like power and more like armor no one can wear anymore. And there, near the far end of the lot, standing with his back to the building and his fists curled loosely at his sides, is Jungkook — breathing unevenly, chest rising too fast, his once-immaculate shirt wrinkled and half-untucked, the corner of his mouth still smudged with blood that hasn’t yet dried.

His knuckles are scraped. His cuff is torn. His jaw is tight in a way that suggests the only thing holding him together is the silence he’s forced to stand in.

And she is already waiting for him.

Nami stands two paces from his side, her arms folded neatly across her waist, her coat draped like a sheath of silk across her shoulders, as pristine now as when she first walked into the ballroom — her expression unreadable, but her voice, when it comes, clear and sharp and final.

“You’ll lose the London deal,” she says, no anger in it, no bitterness, only the practical coolness of someone who has been trained her entire life to count what things are worth.

And for a moment, he doesn’t respond.

Just stands there with his gaze fixed on the ground like he’s trying to burn a hole through the pavement, shoulders still shaking from the tail end of everything he just threw away.

Then he breathes — one long, low exhale — and lifts his head.

“I already lost something more important,” he answers, his voice cracked and hoarse and quieter than it’s ever been.

Nami remains silent, already understanding the weight of his words without needing them explained. When she walks away, her departure is as final as the evening itself.

It’s not until she disappears around the curve of the entrance that you step forward — slow, careful, like your body hasn’t fully remembered how to move yet, like the sight of him under the parking lot lights has knocked all the breath from your lungs again.

In the heavy silence between you, his eyes find yours - wide and bloodshot, rimmed with a shame that asks for nothing but your presence, a silent plea that you haven't turned away. While his hands tremble at his sides, your heels echo once against the stone before falling still. Without hesitation, you reach for him, your fingers finding the bruise blooming along his jaw as your thumb gently wipes away the smear of red beneath his lip.

His eyes drift closed as he leans into your touch. When you finally break the silence, your voice carries a gentle certainty that barely ripples the quiet air between you. "Let me take you home."

The simple nod he gives in response marks a shift - after months of games and secrets and unspoken wanting, he surrenders to your lead. There's nothing left to fight now, and you're the only anchor he has left to hold onto.

.

this is it for this story! please share your thoughts and feelings, your feedback means the world to me.

[kaivenom]

OP DILFs with a sweet , calm (very librarian vibes) reader but one day they find out their partners secret stress relief is something mental like cage fighting or whatever and their personality is just a 180 until they see them and are back to all polite and sweet (in a good way)

OP Dilfs with a calm s/o who cage fights for stress relief

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: at first they all think that you are cheating on them and that's why they follow you.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He tries not to judge.

He himself can get agressive sometimes, but he gets it out on the battlefield and you dont go there.

He could even feel a little offended that you didn't count with him for this kind of thing.

He sits there, waiting patiently and taking notes to make you train.

Even if he is a little upset he still wants you to get better at your thing.

When you get out and he goes to you, you talked to him really sweet and nice.

"Don't do that, now i know that you are more than capable of doing things in battle... next time please ask me."

Donquixote Doflamingo

He is in pure bliss, if he could fall in love with you again... that would be the exact moment.

If he could he would even propose to you right there and then.

Seeing you all bloody and bruised from your enemies and ready to break more bones.

But the thing he liked the most was your rage screams and your filthy mouth insulting everyone of your opponents.

When you got out he was there to greet you and maybe continue fighting, but you were all nice and sweet again.

"NOOOO, please, go back to it, yell at me, crush my face with your feet... do something of what you did there."

Sr. Crocodile

He feels like he just saw a whole new potential for you.

He has been spending money on bodyguards and private detectives for this.

For you to be a small little demon full of rage and fully prepared to defend yourself.

He couldn't deny that he gets a little excited about this, you seem beautiful, but he has a reputation.

He even put a bet on you, seeing that you were doing so well.

And when you won, he got to the changing rooms and kicked everyone out, you smiled inocently and went to him.

"You just made me win a lot of money, but mostly i love you even more, maybe we can set this as 'our couple night'."

Smoker

He is surprised and even concerned.

He starts to think about you being under hypnosis control or things like that, that brutal and animalistic person couldn't be his partner.

Is like you awakened something on him but still he wasn't ready for that.

When the battle ends, he doesn't go to you right then, he waits for you to calm yourself and get outside.

When you welcomed him so sweet and kind he felt relieved.

"Ohh, god. I was scared that you would yell at me too, i am glad that you are still my Y/N."

Akagami Shanks

He is surprised... and mostly drunk.

He thinks for a moment that it is a vision cause he couldn't believe the rage you were fighting with.

The things he loves most about you is your calm personality, your passion for knowledge, your chill pressence... and you are here like this.

He even calls some of the crewmates to come see and reassure him that he isn't dreaming.

When you go out and spot him, you came to the stair and he is just amazed.

"I love you but the next time you tell me that i am being to loud i am going to kick you butt... but lovingly cause i still love you:"

[fastandcarlos]

The Biggest Tease : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

“Stop right there,” Max called out as soon as he watched you walk down the stairs. Your face told him everything, your plan of mischief etched upon your face, unable to hide it.

You took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting your hand against the top of his leg. With two weeks off, you thought you were finally going to get your boyfriend all to yourself, that was until the seeming third wheel in your relationship got involved. Brad.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed as Max kept his eyes on you, refusing to acknowledge where your hand was trailing. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s just part of the job of dating a world champion,” he tried his best to joke.

Max almost felt sorry for you as you looked helplessly at him, hoping that somehow, he’d try and bend the rules. Brad was determined to keep Max in peak physical condition during the small break, and although you knew his job meant a lot to Max, you were confident you could find a solution that kept you both happy.

You grabbed the pillow beside you, admitting defeat and holding it close to your body. Max kept his eye on you as you did so, desperately wanting to reach out and give you what you wanted. Was it worth the scolding that he’d get back at headquarters? Probably.

“Max,” you whined, scuffing your feet along the bedroom floor as you found him sat in his gaming chair a few hours later.

“Hi sweetheart,” he hummed, spinning his chair around as he paused his game.

You perched on the end of the bed, folding your arms across your chest with a pout on your face. Straight away Max tapped his lap, inviting you over. You didn’t need to be asked twice as you jumped over, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you in position.

“Playing anything good?” You enquired as you studied his set up in front of you.

“Nothing you’d enjoy,” Max assured you, pressing a gentle kiss against your shoulder. “It’s unlike you to come and take an interest in what I’m playing anyway.”

Your shoulders shrugged as you leant further back against Max’s chest, shuffling in his lap as you made yourself comfortable. As you did so, a faint intake of breath came from behind you, your movement taking Max by surprise.

You slowly turned your bright eyes to meet Max’s, catching his bottom lip being bitten by his teeth. His head shook slowly at you, knowing full well what you were trying to do, as if to tell you that you didn’t even need to bother.

“It’s only a couple more days until race day,” Max tried his best to remind you, but you were beyond waiting any longer. You shifted your body so that your lips could reach his jawline, kissing against it gently.

You were all for supporting Max, encouraging him to the best driver he could be, but your patience had been tested to its limit.

“Babe,” Max sighed as you continued to capture his attention.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” you innocently defended, sniggering to yourself.

“I love you, but we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You quizzed, pulling away from Max so you could see the expression on his face. You could read him like a book, as serious as he wanted to be, his eyes were pleading with you not to stop.

“Are you going to explain this to Brad?”

“You mean am I going to explain to Brad how annoyingly irresistible my boyfriend is? Absolutely,” you chuckled, pressing your hands against Max’s chest.

Max’s head tilted back as you moved one of your hands to brush through his hair, tugging gently at the knots that had formed throughout the day. He soon found himself losing all control, a habit of his whenever you were around.

Soon enough Max’s hands were resting on your waist, refusing to let you move away from him. A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face as you looked at him again, a knowing look on his face.

“I hate what you do to me,” he whispered, secretly loving the way you tried to push all of his buttons.

“Me? What did I do?” You questioned, shuffling slightly again. “All I wanted to do was come and see what you were up to.”

Max’s eyes rolled as you tried your best to play innocent with him. He pulled you closer towards him, his hot breath tickling just underneath your ear, “two weeks is a long time without sex, right?”

Your head nodded straight away as he whispered, as much as you wanted to try and convince Max that you had full control around him, you didn’t. You were losing your mind; Max was so close and yet so far away.

Max’s hand trailed underneath the shirt that you were wearing, fingertips brushing against your skin. “I’m sorry I ever made you wait for me,” he hummed.

“I can support the diets, the exercise, and even the sleepless nights of different time zones, but sex is wear I draw the line,” you chuckled, hearing Max’s giggles mix in with your own. “Does Brad not realise what an irresistible man you are?”

Max’s eyes rolled as you continued to laugh away to yourself, “maybe you should tell him all about it at the next team briefing?”

“Does this mean that the ban is over?” You asked, a wave of relief washing over you as Max’s head nodded in reply to you.

The look on your face reminded Max exactly why he found it so difficult to control himself around you in the first place, especially after ten days of trying his best to distance himself.

“Brad will forgive me…I’m a desperate man,” Max laughed as he stood up from his chair, holding you tightly in his arms as he headed for your bed.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one whose desperate.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[slightly-knot-insane]

Safe and Sound

[ m!wolf hybrid x fem!rabbit hybrid ]

a/n: had to make this a separate post, thank you again @corvid-brain content: light biting, piv, knotting, creampie, pregnancy

The wolf hybrid and his pack had built a lovely community in the mountains, and their village was starting to blossom. Families grew rapidly, and they prospered in peace. But some hybrids were jealous of their happiness...

Today, the wolf hybrid and a few of his friends went to help their new neighbor fix the roof. The owl hybrid had broken his wing a few days ago, and his wife was heavily pregnant, almost ready to lay her eggs. It was a difficult job, but fun nonetheless. Even though it took them all afternoon to finish it, they were rewarded with a hearty dinner and delicious wine. The wolf hybrid and his friends stayed a little bit longer to help the owl hybrid family clean everything up, too.

Finally, the wolf hybrid started his walk home. His village was scattered on the side of a mountain, and his home was a bit farther from the rest of the houses, which provided him with peace and space for his growing family. It was perfect! Well, almost always.

An ominous scent crawled inside his nostrils as soon as he got close. Metal. Blood.

His hair stood up, he dropped to all fours and ran toward his house, barely holding in a terrified howl. Nononono! Not his family! Not them! The sun hadn't set yet and, clear as a day, he saw footsteps. Paws. From another pack. Going toward his home. Fast fast fast! The smell was growing thicker and more bitter. Tears welled in his eyes. Maybe he's not too late!

He almost screamed when he saw fresh blood on the window. Many footsteps marked the dirt around his house, different smells mixed in the air, and a splatter of blood ruined his wife's flowers. And the front door was slightly ajar. NonononoNONONONO!

He barged in, ready for the worst, but his wife shut his mouth with her tiny hand. "Shhhh, they are sleeping." Her beautiful soft face was covered in blood, and her left ear was cut.

"Wh-Wh-Wh—" He just couldn't form any words, his legs shaking and throat shut down.

"We are all fine. They ran away, the cowards! We are all safe now. The girls sensed trouble in time, and I could get ready. Thank the gods I insisted you teach me how to handle a knife."

"But..." The wolf hybrid gently touched her long rabbit ear. "But you are hurt... The blood..."

His beautiful mate touched her wound and flashed him a bright smile. "Oh! Don't worry! It's a scratch! The blood is theirs. You know how fast and tough I am!" She flexed her arm, and a small bump showed just above her elbow.

The wolf hybrid gazed at his wife, speechless. Her face was stained with the disgusting blood of their enemies, and her dress was ripped and soiled, and yet she was victoriously grinning. She was so weak, her strength but a fraction of her husband's, but she was so brave to fight alone and defend their babies. Their pups. So small. So incredible.

Wolf hybrid got lost in thought, barely listening to her describing the foul deed. He will ask her to tell him again. And again. And many more times. But now - he grabbed her around her waist and lifted her up - now he wanted nothing more than to love her and show her love.

He kissed her and muffled her voice inside his mouth. She was surprised by his sudden affections. His tongue quickly invaded her, and he pressed her firmly against his chest, hating that no hug could be big or strong enough for her right now.

She somehow pushed herself away. "My love!" she gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" He stared into her eyes, hunger overtaking his features. "I've never been better, never been more prouder, never loved you more than right now."

The rabbit hybrid's eyes widened in shock. Not that her husband wasn't always a caring lover and a doting partner, but she truly wasn't expecting a hard-on against her blood-soiled clothes. But they had done stranger things before, and right now, all their pups were blissfully and safely asleep in the next room. She smiled and kissed her husband back.

Her husband growled impatiently, grabbing her clothes. "It's ruined, anyway," she said while pulling his shirt over his head. He happily used his claws to shred them to pieces, revealing her beautiful soft body. He immediately pulled her nipple with his teeth, carrying her toward their bedroom and their cozy little bed. They fell down, his large body pinning her against the mattress. He could barely contain himself from pushing his cock and entire knot immediately inside her. He had to be gentle; she had been through a lot.

"Fuck me now!" she moaned spreading her legs and pulling his hips toward herself. He looked at her soaking wet pussy and drool dripped from his fangs. "Fuck me hard. Now."

He grabbed her long rabbit ears and pulled them back to expose her neck. He bit her below the jaw, making her whimper. With his other arm he positioned his pulsating cock and immediately plunged into her cunt.

"Yes," she moans quietly, hoarsely. "Yes, harder, harder."

Their pups were asleep, but unless they were outside somewhere, far away from them, they never got fully vocal. The rabbit hybrid loved to say obscene things and scream in pleasure, so her husband immediately put his paw over her mouth. Only then he started fucking her little pussy will all he got.

Her eyes quickly rolled backwards, and her legs pulled him closer. Her body worked with his thrusts as she was chasing her release. The wolf hybrid bit her neck again and felt her cunt contract around his cock, reaching her peak already. He didn't slow down and barely contained a howl inside his throat from the rushing desire in his blood.

He lifted her hips upward, and smothered her moans with his tongue, pounding her cunt. It was so warm, so moist, so familiar. It was home. The smell of blood was overtaken by the smell of their mixed sweat and juices. It's making him feral.

"I'll... knot you..." he said. "I'm so close..."

"Yes, yes, yes..." She put her own hand into her mouth to silence herself, almost breathless.

Just as the wolf hybrid felt the pulsating climax heating up, he pushed his knot inside his wife pussy, and the sensation of her soaked walls around his entire sex made him cum almost immediately. He bit his wife again, grunting into her skin, holding in a fearsome howl as the rabbit hybrid reached another climax, pulling his knot deeper.

"My love..." he said. "You are safe." A wave of late worry and relief washed over him as he layed on top of his gorgeous wife, enjoying his knot resting inside her.

"Safe." She held him tight, blissfully enjoying his hot cum dripping down her ass, but mostly poolling inside her womb. "Another litter, perhaps?"

Her husband smiled. "Would you like that?"

"Conceiving them on this day to compensate the stress would really make us more than lucky, wouldn't it?

The wolf hybrid nuzzled his soft wife's fur. "That it would."

[81pastrys]

Vegas!!

Summary— Vegas is a city of I do’s

Warnings— spontaneous marriage plans ; Charles loses the championship (apologies)

A/N— MORE OSCAR I BEG 👹

Oscar One Shots

Request— Picture this: Oscar wins the championship in Vegas, and he asks his girlfriend to marry him when they’re in their hotel room or somewhere like that. She says yes, and they get married that same night. - 🦋

Oscar and his girlfriend agreed that Vegas was going to be their race to attend. She had never been and Oscar promised he would take her out on the strip and show her around.

It had been years since they had gotten together and she knew Oscar wasn’t one for big media entertainment, especially for their relationship. He was a bit more stressed than usual this weekend.

The championship was coming to an end and it was between him and Charles. A good 10 points but both cars had seemed to be amazing in practice. It was in Oscar’s favor that Leclerc qualified 4th and Lando was second. Lando was third in the championship and not nearly as close as Charles. Which meant he keeps second and defends Oscar from any overtakes.

“Baby, you should relax with me.” She said. They were at a beautiful pool. The one for their hotel and it was close to dawn, so it was nearly empty. She had stayed up with him to acclimate to the night racing. Sleeping during the day with blackout curtains and spending time together after the practice or now, quali.

“Tonight is whether I win a championship, I can’t relax.” He was calm voice wise, his anxiety only showing through his slightly shaky hands as he scrolled his phone for data and statistic improvements.

“I know but look at the view, it so pretty.” She said, sipping a mixed alcoholic drink. Oscar looked up at the sun peeking through the horizon and smiled before he looked to her. “See, I want you here with me while we have the time.” Her voice was soft and endearing.

He sighed and put his phone away. She moved pool chairs to cuddle into his chest, the only material separating them was her bikini and his swim trunks. “What should we do when I win the championship?” He asked kissing her head.

She giggled uncontrollably into his chest, causing him to smile and laugh. “We should get married.” She half-heartedly joked. Now he laughed uncontrollably with her. “I brought that white dress you told me to bring, it would be so funny if I wore it tonight and then we just elope after.”

What she didn’t know was that he fully intended on asking her seriously after the championship was won. That’s why he asked her to bring the dress. He went along with her ‘joke’ and they relaxed for a bit more.

After a long awaited nap, they were heading into the paddock, white dress attire for her and his usual bland outfit. Photographers galore when they found out what she was wearing. So much so she hid in Oscar drivers room until the race.

Lando defended Oscar position and Leclerc stayed behind the Mercedes in third the entire race. Oscar championship was won fair and square, the team absolutely going crazy over how their boys got first and second along with a team championship.

Champagne flying everywhere, confetti mixed in, balloons here and there. Once Oscar got his helmet off he ran to her, grabbing her waist and kissing her hard. The night ran long, around 4 am was when it calmed down enough for them to have a real conversation since before the race.

“I’m so proud of you my os.” She said. He kissed her again and smiled. “You led such an amazing race and won both championships.” She smiled back.

“About this morning darling,” he starts. “Will you marry me?” She could see his hands shaking, noting he was absolutely fucking serious right now.

“What?! Yes oh my god Oscar yes, yes I will!” She bounced with excitement and kissed him again. “Thats why you wanted me to bring the white dress you cheeky boy.” She teased.

“You almost blew my surprise this morning, I was so worried you would say no.” He laughed. “I even have rings for us.” He pulled two velvety boxes from his pocket and she gawked at him.

“Oscar Jack Piastri, the man that you are.” She smiled and kissed him again. “Well? What are we waiting for let’s go get married.”

“What?” He asked, his face dropped at her words. “Like right now?” He was making sure she was serious. She made a thinking face and nodded. He smiled at her.

They looked up the marriage venue that’s 24 hours and known for this sort of ordeal. They signed all the paperwork and got photos taken. “Mrs. Piastri.” She said to him. She wiggled her wedding band at him and he laughed.

“My Mrs.” He said and kissed her for the millionth time that night. They left Vegas completely changed. They kept the marriage a secret until her belly bump started to show around 6 months after.

Oscar Jack Piastri everyone

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @itznotsophia @kallanfiona @pandabiiissh @justaf1girl

[heavyhitterheaux]

Daughter (Slight NSFW)

They keep sayin' that I ain't nothin' like my father

But I'm the furthest thing from choir boys and altars

If you cross me, I'm just like my father

I am colder than Titanic water

Synopsis: You and Joe's relationship is fairly new, and you are taken by surprise when a pregnancy test comes up positive. However, your boyfriend's reaction was the opposite of what you expected. Especially when he has just signed his five year contract extension which is now the highest in the NFL

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 😘

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Soft kisses being placed across your shoulder blade had pulled you out of a deep sleep and you noticed that the sun was barely making itself known as you wrapped the comforter tighter around you to keep in all of the warmth that you possibly could.

You shut your eyes once more, but then you suddenly heard his voice.

“Baby doll, you awake?” You heard your boyfriend ask you as you felt his fingertips now dancing across your skin.

You opened your eyes and once again had to adjust to the light before answering him.

“I am now.” You quietly said as you heard him laugh.

“Good, turn around so I can see your pretty face.”

Moving your body from facing one side to the other, Joe's face came into view who gave you a sleepy grin when he finally laid his eyes on you.

“A sight I never get tired of waking up to.” As soon as those words left his mouth, you gave him the biggest eye roll possible which made him erupt with laughter once more.

“Joey, I look like a hot ass mess. It's okay though so there's no need to lie to me. We are building this relationship on a foundation of trust.”

“I'm not lying. My girlfriend is gorgeous all the time.”

“Hmm, funny. My hair is literally sticking up all over my head because I once again forgot to pack my bonnet, I have bags under my eyes from not getting enough sleep, and…”

Joe simply cut you off by placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“You need to learn how to just take compliments and stop trying to defend them.” He told you and your response was a simple shrug.

“Maybe one day, but today is not that day. So as I was saying..” You began to speak, but Joe promptly cut you off.

“Wouldn't tell you that you're the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on if it wasn't true.” He told you and you couldn't help but to finally give him a small smile.

“Is that a smile that I see?” He asked as you then scrunched your nose up at him.

“Hmph, not anymore.”

“I never thought I would meet my match when it comes to someone who acts more like Squidward than I do.”

“Patrick is my favorite though.”

“That's surprising for sure seeing as it doesn't seem that you would have a lot of patience to deal with him.” He said as he pulled you closer to him.

“I make exceptions sometimes. For example, I said yes to going out on a date with you.”

“BABY!”

“Just kidding, babe!” You told him as you pinched his cheek and he promptly rolled his eyes at you.

“And it didn't have to do with me being the hottest quarterback in the NFL?” He asked while smirking.

“No, you know that I could care less about that and what your job is. It just happens to be a plus and a perk of dating you.” You told him being completely honest.

It was quiet for a few seconds as the two of you stared at each other when you finally broke it.

“Are you excited for training camp?”

“Yes and no. Yes because I'm excited to get back out there of course and no because I'm not going to be able to spend as much time with you.”

The relationship was fairly new being months old and Joe wanted to spend as much time as possible with you before football took over once more. You were always excited for football season, but even more so now that you had a significant other that played in the NFL.

“Joey, it's your job so I understand. I'm so proud of you and want you to be focused so that you are able to do your absolute best. I'll still be here cheering you on. I promise.” You told him as you brushed a hand through his hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I can't wait to be able to look up in my suite at the stadium and see you in there.”

“I can't either. I haven't been to a Bengals game in a while.”

“Even though your dad is a season ticket holder?”

Your dad had been a season ticket holder since before you were born seeing as your grandfather passed it to him. Being a single father to you wasn’t easy in the slightest but the love of football was something that the two of you bonded over.

“Yes, even that. Ever since I became a chef and opened my restaurant, it's been a lot harder. I just have to find more people that I can trust to keep it up and running so that I'm able to come and see you play. That way I'll be able to give you my undivided attention and not have any worries lingering in the back of my mind.”

“You act as if Kendall can’t do it. She could literally run the restaurant blindfolded.” Joe responded as he was referring to your best friend that you had met in culinary school.

The two of you had met when Joe, Tee, Sam, and Ja'Marr wanted to try a new upscale restaurant in the middle of downtown Cincinnati during the beginning of the off season. It was near closing time when Ja'Marr had asked to meet the head chef; the head chef being you to give his compliments personally. Your eyes as well as Joe's had locked that night and the two of you had been infatuated with each other since. It honestly felt like a lifetime ago and not a few months.

“I know she can and I have to give her more credit. On the other hand, I've definitely been spoiled with it being the off-season and being able to spend as much time with you as I want with you also coming to see me at work.” You told him as he smiled.

As soon as you two had met, Joe would be at the restaurant a few times a week and eventually asked for your number one night. Of course you had told him yes and he found himself coming to visit if he wasn’t doing anything else. He always had a specific table that he sat at and would let you know when he was coming to see you so that they could reserve it for him. It was on the second level that looked out over the balcony.

“What time are you going in today?” He asked as he noticed that it was barely seven in the morning.

“I probably should have already left since it'll take me a little longer to get there.” You said as you made an attempt to get up, but Joe quickly pulled you back.

Your condo was closer to the restaurant and staying with Joe added close to another 25 minutes.

“Joeyyyy!”

“Can I have you for at least another hour or so? The restaurant doesn't even open until 4.”

“But I have to prep!”

“Babe, please?” He asked as he started to give you puppy dog eyes.

“No! Don’t you dare give me that look!” You scolded him and at the same time he laid you on your back as he climbed on top of you.

“Please?” He asked again as he gave you a light kiss on your lips and started placing a trail of kisses down your already bare body from the activities from the night before.

His fingers lightly brushed your folds and your hips bucked in response making a light chuckle escape from his lips.

“You sure you don't want to stay? Your body is telling me otherwise.” He asked as he inserted two fingers and slowly began moving them in and out of you.

“Baby…”

“Hmm, one round or two? Knowing you, you're going to tell me one and then change your mind when you remember how good I make you feel.”

Joe didn’t wait for you to answer him as he settled himself in between your legs and added his tongue to pleasure you without his fingers leaving your body.

In order to keep your legs spread and to also keep you from running from, he removed his fingers from you to keep a tight hold on both of your legs as his mouth continued to pleasure you.

“Shiiit, oh my gosh.” Was the only sentence that you could form as both of your hands found a way into his hair.

Joe was the first boyfriend that you ever had that actually took the time to pleasure you and always made sure you had multiple orgasms before he even had one. He had always told you that his favorite thing was to eat you out because of the way you taste. If it was honestly left up to him, he would stay between your legs for hours.

“Keep still, baby.” Joe told you as he then began to suck on your clit.

“How am I supposed to keep still when you do that!?” You exclaimed as he was still holding you in place. The vibration from his laugh was felt as he sucked harder.

“I'm… Oh FUCK!” You yelled and before you were able to get your entire sentence out, you squirted all over Joe's face as he continued sucking on your clit no matter how hard you tried to move away from him.

“Nope, where do you think you’re going?” He asked as he continued to eat you out.

“Give me at least one more and I'll think about letting you move.”

“You are such an ass!” You told him while playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Hmm, is that what you tell your boyfriend as he's eating you out and making you feel good?”

“Yes! Because he won’t let my legs go!”

“Hmm, so you can fall off this high ass bed? I think not. Come on baby doll, one more. My pretty baby can give me one more.”

Keeping him talking gave you a little bit of a break, but that soon went back out the window as he dove back in and gave you his undivided attention once more.

You were starting to squirm and tears were threatening to leave your eyes as another orgasm washed over you. Joe finally stopped to come up for air, but before he did he lightly placed kisses on both of your thighs before climbing back up your body and leaning down to kiss you.

“I knew you could do it. Such a good girl.”

“And you’re still an ass for that.”

“I’ll be that because later on in the day once you leave here and you’re thinking about me because I know it's going to happen. You'll think about me being between your thighs and then the first thing you’re going to do is tell me how wet that made you and how much you want me to make you cum over and over and over again.” He told you as he whispered against your lips before kissing them.

“Am I wrong?” He asked and you shook your head no as another smirk came across his face.

“But for now, I can settle for this.” He told you as he lined up with your entrance and then suddenly stopped.

“Babe?”

“I forgot to go to the store so I don’t have any more condoms. Shit, I forgot about that. But if you’re okay with it?” He asked, searching your eyes for approval.

“I’m okay with it. Gives me a chance to feel all of you.” You answered without skipping a beat.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He asked while smirking.

“If I wasn’t sure then I wouldn’t have said yes to begin with.”

Nodding in approval, Joe slowly entered you until he bottomed out and you both moaned at the sensation. Feeling every bit of him was going to put you over the edge and the last thing on your mind was the fact that you would learn to regret it later.

—

Training camp was now coming to a close and pre-season games were due to start as you and Joe were on facetime. He had sent you a text earlier in the day saying that he had something he wanted to tell you later on when he got back home. The anticipation had been building all day and you were growing annoyed with him still keeping you in suspense.

“Babe, out with it already.” You told him as you were laying down with multiple pillows propped up underneath you. You hadn’t felt well for the past week and a half and simply blamed it on the stomach bug that you knew that had been going around. You had left Kendall in charge of everything while you stayed home to rest with her periodically checking on you.

“So, the final negotiation went well for my contract.” He started to say and you instantly smiled.

“Oh, that’s right because your rookie contract is over. I forgot that you had to do that this year. Do you feel that you’re happy with the decision that they came up with?” You asked as you took a sip of ginger ale.

“Definitely happy with the decision. Once it’s signed, It’ll be the biggest contract for a quarterback as well as in the history of the NFL.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s so exciting and you definitely deserve it. I see all the hard work that you’ve been putting in and it is definitely paying off. I’m not feeling all that great, but I promise to make you a celebratory dinner so that we can celebrate properly. I am literally so proud of you!”

“Thank you baby doll. Means a lot coming from you.”

“Always going to be here to support you as long as you want me.” You told him as he smiled.

“I want you for the long run, you already know this and besides you’re the celebrity in my eyes anyway. Who would have thought a celebrity chef would go out with little old me who just happens to be a quarterback in the NFL in his spare time?” He asked as you softly laughed. Any intense movement would instantly make your stomach hurt or make you want to throw up.

“You are too much sometimes and so incredibly dramatic.” You told him as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You’ve literally known this since day one and it hasn’t been a problem so why start now?” He asked as you saw him prop up his phone and move around in the kitchen.

“I feel so bad that I can’t make you anything tonight.” You sadly said as Joe brushed you off, but a look of concern immediately spread across his face.

“Do you still not feel well? Babe, it’s been almost two weeks.”

“I know and I have a doctor’s appointment at the end of the week on Friday. Hopefully they’ll be able to tell me what’s going on because I am so miserable right now.

“Just let me know what they say. I’m going to actually sign the contract that day. So later that night, we can celebrate.”

“Yes, that’ll be the perfect day to make dinner for you. Do you have any special requests?” You curiously asked and Joe answered you without a second thought.

“Hmm, yeah. I’ll just have you for my dinner and my dessert.”

“Joeyyy, I meant actual food. You cannot just eat me out and think that is sufficient enough for you to survive.”

“Says who?” He asked as he took a drink out of the water bottle that he just opened.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do with you.” You told him as you were smiling at him.

“But on a serious note, do you need me to bring you anything? You definitely don’t look like your normal self.”

“I promise that I’m okay. I just have to ride it out and wait for it to pass, no big deal.”

“The minute something changes, you call me. Promise?”

“I promise. The last thing I want is for you to come around me and end up getting sick yourself. Stay away until I give you the all clear on Friday.”

“As hard as I know that will be, I have no choice so I guess I’ll listen to you. The last thing I need is to get sick right before the season starts.”

“Exactly. Have to keep you as healthy as possible.” You told him as you glanced at the clock in your room to see that it was around eight at night.

“I’m going to try and get some sleep since I literally have been puking my guts out every morning for a week and a half straight.” You told Joe who gave you a sympathetic look.

“Go ahead and go to sleep. Just leave your phone on facetime.”

“So you can be a creep and watch me sleep, Burrow?”

“I literally always watch you sleep when you stay with me so this is no different. You just aren’t next to me. I always do it to make sure you’re okay.”

“You are too sweet. One of the many things I love about you.”

“Hmm, so I’m melting that cold ass ice box of a heart you have? Is Y/N showing FEELINGS?!” He playfully teased you as you shook your head.

Joe knew from the beginning how independent you were and that you didn’t need a man to depend on for anything. You can give your father credit for raising you that way. You could fix things around the house, change a tire, change the oil in your car and that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. If there was something you wanted or needed, you would stop at nothing in order to make it happen. Even though you were infatuated with Joe ever since you laid eyes on him, you let him know upfront. One thing that Joe admired about you was your will to be independent. Although, he did want to spoil you from time to time.

“You’re slowly melting it, I think you’ve made it about 25%.”

“Only 25%?!?! Seriously?! You have got to give me more credit than that.”

“Hmm, maybe 35% because of how good you eat me out.”

“WHAT? That by itself should equal 1000%!” Joe exclaimed and you had gotten comfortable under the covers.

“Well you are melting it, so just be happy about that. You're the first one to do it in a very long time.”

“I am now close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“You promise to stay on the phone and make sure I’m okay?” You asked and a small smile spread across his face before nodding at you.

“I promise.”

Friday had finally come around and you were now on your way to Joe’s house to celebrate him signing his new contract. However, there was something now hanging over your head. You were uneasy because of the news that you had to share with him and honestly couldn’t believe it yourself.

You stayed in the parking lot at the doctor's office for an extra 45 minutes before you even thought about moving your car.

It wasn’t a simple stomach bug that you had been dealing with for two weeks, it was an entire human being growing inside of you and them trying to make you aware of their presence. The signs had all been there and it wasn’t until your doctor wanted you to do a pregnancy test that the dots were finally starting to connect.

Your period was late and it had never been late in your entire life

Your boobs were sore

Just about everything made you nauseous and being a chef hadn't been working out for you for these past two weeks

You would throw up every morning like clockwork and then be fine for the rest of the day

The looks of shock and disbelief hadn’t left your face since you had departed from your doctor’s appointment and your mind was racing a mile a minute. The relationship between you and Joe had barely gotten off of the ground and the last thing that you wanted to add to that was an entire child that you had no idea if he would even want.

But you had to be honest with him.

For the short time that you had known him, Joe was an amazing person that you saw being in your life for the long run and he was one person that you wouldn’t mind fathering your kids because you knew that he cared about your well-being so you could imagine that he would care about theirs too.

You figured that you had to tell him when you got there because if something was off, he immediately knew and could read you like a book. The hardest thing at the current moment was for you not to break down crying.

Joe asked for you to make a simple dish that you made all the time, chicken and broccoli alfredo. Except for him, you would substitute regular noodles for protein pasta so that he would meet his goal for the day. You had started to feel a little bit better yesterday so you had gone to the store and dropped the ingredients off at Joe’s house so you didn’t have to worry about bringing them with you after your doctor’s appointment.

Parking your car next to Joe’s Porsche, you placed your purse on your shoulder before getting out and making your way to the front door. Pulling out your key that he had given you, you opened it and quickly turned the knob before making your way inside.

Stepping across the threshold, it was quiet except for the television that you could hear in the living room and to no surprise it was playing Spongebob which you had to laugh at. That was one of the first things that you and Joe had bonded over.

As you walked further into the house and made your way into the living room, your boyfriend caught your eye as he was asleep on the couch and you assumed that he had been waiting for you. He looked peaceful and the last thing you wanted to do was disturb him so instead you placed a kiss on his forehead before setting your purse down and making your way into the kitchen to start on the dinner that he requested.

Not wanting to work in silence, you put one of your air pods in your ear and turned on your Kendrick Lamar playlist as you started to move around the kitchen. The decision to only put one in was to be able to hear Joe when he started to stir.

About twenty minutes later, dinner was already halfway done when you heard footsteps entering the kitchen. You turned around from the stove to be met with the sight of your sleepy boyfriend rubbing his eyes as he made his way over to you to place you in a hug and placed several kisses on both of your cheeks.

“Hi, sleepy head. About time you woke up.”

“How long have you been here?” He asked as he kissed you once more.

“Probably thirty minutes give or take. Luckily you chose something that was quick and easy. We probably have about fifteen more minutes. I just have to pour the sauce on the pasta and put the garlic bread in the oven.”

Joe nodded as he left his arms wrapped around you and you quickly squeezed him tighter, hoping that by the end of the night it wouldn’t be the last time that you got to do so.

“How did your appointment go?” He asked as he finally let you go so you could finish cooking.

“Um, not what I expected.” You quietly said as you had now turned around to face the stove leaving you facing away from him.

“Baby, is everything okay? You saying that has me worried.” Joe replied as he turned you around once more to face him.

“I… I just don’t know how you’re going to take this.”

“Take what? Are you sick? Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, just tell me.” Joe told you as he held onto both of your hands.

Taking a deep breath, you blurted it out.

“It wasn’t a stomach bug like I thought, I’m pregnant.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, Joe’s hands immediately detached from yours.

“What do you mean you’re pregnant?”

“When you have sex multiple times without a condom, these things tend to happen.” You said trying to make light of the situation, but Joe did not look amused in the slightest.

It was quiet for a few minutes and it was you who had to break the silence.

“Joey?” You said and he sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose and responding to you.

“So, was this your plan all along? To trap me?” Joe asked you and the expression that appeared on your face was unreadable to him.

It took everything in you to not cuss him out right then and there.

“Hmm funny. You're the one who didn't bother to wear a condom the last few times we had sex. And I know that you cannot be serious.” Was your response as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What's also funny is that you said you were okay with it. I obviously wouldn't have done it if you weren't. So it just so happens I signed the biggest contract for a quarterback in NFL history and suddenly my girlfriend of four months is now pregnant? And I am being fucking serious.”

“Are you calling me a gold digger? Because that's what it sounds like.”

“You said it, not me.” He told you as he held his hands up in defense.

“What do I need your money for when I have my own? You act like I don’t even have a career. Did you forget that I own my own restaurant?”

“You obviously don't have nearly as much as I do.”

“You are literally unbelievable right now. You're acting as if this is entirely my fault when it was both of us.” You exclaimed and he continued to look at you with a straight face.

“I'm at the height of my career and the last thing I need is a kid with someone I barely even know.”

Your heart dropped hearing how he talked about you, but especially that last statement and did your best to keep a straight face when in reality hearing something like that would probably make tears fall from your eyes.

The thought that he would be surprised, but also supportive of you had now gone out of the window.

“Well it's a good thing that this relationship is no more isn't it? So you won't have to worry about it anymore.” You said to Joe as you made your way to the living room and took the key to his house off of your keychain and handed it to him while you threw your purse over your shoulder.

He watched as you walked away from him and started to open the front door when you turned back to look at him.

“Remember everything that you said to me because I know it's going to come back to haunt you and you'll end up regretting it. And by the type of person I am, you know that I do not forgive easily or at all.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Hearing his reply, you had to laugh to yourself because at this point in time you knew that he would come crawling back to you sooner or later. His conscience would eat away at him and he would start to feel guilty. Even if you had only known him for a matter of months, deep down he was a good person that always tried to do right by others although he wasn’t displaying that now towards you.

“Just remember I told you so. I never needed you before and I sure as hell won't need you in the future. The difference was that I wanted you simply for you and not your money. Good luck finding someone who valued you as much as I did.”

Slamming the door behind you, once you got into your car and put on your seatbelt, you picked up your phone that you had thrown on the passenger seat and proceeded to block Joe's number.

If he didn't want to be in your child's life, the last thing you were about to do was beg. You made it up in your mind that the two of you were going to be fine with or without him.

The regret of it all was going to hit him like a ton of bricks.

—

A month and a half had gone by and you put all of your focus and energy into the restaurant and spent time reading pregnancy books that were highly recommended especially for first time mothers.

Reading what was currently going on in your body had you scared shitless, but you were determined to make it through this one step at a time. Only person that you could depend on now was yourself.

After blocking Joe’s number, you had also blocked him on all of your social media accounts wanting absolutely nothing to do with him. You went as far as also blocking Ja’Marr, Tee, Sam, and Andrei who would frequently come with him to your restaurant wanting no ties to anyone associated with him.

Plenty of people at the restaurant asked where Joe was, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell them that you had unfortunately broken up, especially one of your favorite hostesses Blanca. She had been obsessed with you and Joe and thought that the two of you looked good together.

I mean from your perspective, the two of you definitely weren't together anymore although when you had originally said it, Joe didn't even bother to react. Because you hadn't told them anything, they always kept his table open unless you told them otherwise. One of these days you were going to get around to banning him completely even if that did seem a little extreme. But on the other hand, he had hurt you and that particular reason was enough.

It was getting harder to hide the bump that was now as obvious as it gets and getting a larger size in a chef uniform every single time your belly grew was getting annoying. So you opted to actually wear sweatshirts as long as it wasn't too hot in the kitchen. If it did get hot, you made sure to have an extra large shirt underneath which left people a little confused but attributed it to simply being your comfort level.

The morning sickness was at an all time high today even though you were well past the time frame of still having it. You made a note in the back of your mind to say something at your next doctor’s appointment. Because of this, the ultimate decision was made for you to stay home, but promised your dad nonetheless that you would make dinner for him since he had gotten a promotion at his job. You wanted to celebrate him properly since you knew how hard he had worked for it.

The food was almost done as you heard the doorbell ring and smiled to yourself because you were excited to be able to finally catch up with your dad. Once you wiped your hands on your apron and walked to the front door to open it, you were caught off guard with your dad placing you in a bone crushing hug with you tightly hugging him back. You knew you had to tell him before the night was over. Once again you were wearing a baggy shirt that hid how big your belly had actually gotten.

“Daddy!” You exclaimed as your eyes met his.

“Hey, pumpkin!”

Once he placed you back on the ground, you moved to the side in order for him to be able to get through the front door. Once you did he followed you into the kitchen and took a seat at the island.

“So, when are you moving into your corner office?” You asked as you poured a glass of red wine and placed it in front of him. It was your favorite brand and it was hard for you to not also pour a glass for yourself.

“On Monday but I already moved a few things over. It's amazing how much you can accumulate over the years.” Your dad answered, but you lowkey knew that he was a hoarder. But being a single dad, you couldn't blame him. Everything little thing counted.

“I am literally so proud of you but it sounds like you could stand to do a little deep cleaning.” Every time you went over to his house, you made it a mission to throw something away without him noticing. So far you had been successful, doing it since you had turned eighteen.

“I never know when I might need something from my stash so I have to be prepared. I told you that hard work pays off but you're definitely no stranger to that. How's the restaurant doing?” He asked as he took a sip.

“Really good. I'm working on debuting our updated Fall menu in the next week or so. The main one already came out.”

“Please tell me you're bringing back the cinnamon apple spice rolls.”

“Of course I am since I know that they're your favorite.”

It took a minute, but your dad caught onto you not drinking any wine and he knew that particular brand that you had given him was your favorite making him look at you in confusion.

“You're not going to get a glass for yourself? Oh, how's Joe by the way? I feel like it's been a minute since you mentioned him. Let me know which Sunday you're free so we can go to a game together.”

“No wine for me tonight and I actually wouldn't know how he's doing because we aren't together anymore.”

“What? Since when? I thought you really liked him. And that's saying something because you hardly like anyone.”

Taking a deep sigh, you turned back to your dad and he could tell by the expression on your face that something was wrong.

“I'm pregnant and Joe wants nothing to do with the baby. After I told him we got into an argument about it, I left his house and immediately blocked him.”

Your father looked at you in disbelief before any words left his mouth.

“What? How could…?”

“He thought it was really interesting how I turned up pregnant when he had just signed his new contract. We got into an argument, he called me a gold digger and I left. Blocked his number as soon as I slammed the door behind me. Gave him back his house key too.”

“Pumpkin…”

“Dad, no. I'm doing this by myself and we're going to be fine.” You told him since you knew the first thing he was going to do was worry himself over it.

“I didn't want this for you. Single parent life. I was hoping that you would get married to someone who loved you for you before you had children.”

“It didn't quite work out that way, but like I said it'll be fine.”

“I need to talk to him so he can get some sense knocked into him. You mean to tell me he had no problem not wearing a condom, but runs for the hills the second you come up pregnant? Really?” You knew your dad was going to protect you at all costs and knew that you had to keep him as far away from Joe as possible.

“No you don't. I don't need him and my baby doesn't need him either. He made his choice and he has to be the one to deal with it.”

“Whatever decision you make, I'm going to support you 100%.”

“Thanks, dad. I appreciate you saying that.” You told him as you set his plate in front of him.

“It's been us against the world since you were born so this isn’t any different. That baby will grow up in a household full of love and won't even notice that someone is missing from their life because they aren't going to want for anything.”

Your mom had literally snuck out of the hospital without being discharged hours after you were born leaving you in a bassinet in her designated hospital room where she was supposed to be recovering. She had left while your dad had stepped out to get her some food since she didn't like the food that they served in the hospital.

No one had seen her since.

Over the years you noticed that your dad wouldn't really talk about her so the most that you knew was her name. There was never a desire to find her since you had it in your mind that she didn't want anything to do with you and those feelings are reciprocated right back towards her.

When your dad had gotten back to the hospital, everyone was frantic and she had never given any inkling that she didn't want to keep you so he was just as confused as everyone else. From that moment forward, your dad made it up in his mind to give you the best life possible and to keep her away from you.

“You taught me not to depend on a man for anything. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“Pumpkin, this situation is a little different…”

“No, it isn't. If he doesn't want to take care of his responsibilities then so be it.”

Hearing your dad sigh as he stabbed his fork into his mashed potatoes, he nodded his head at you.

“So, have we decided on any names yet?”

“Not yet, but I have a very strong feeling that the baby is a girl.”

—

It was a dreary day in Cincinnati when practice had come to a close for the Bengals and Joe was walking back towards the locker room in order to get ready for his presser when Ja’Marr stopped him and pulled him to the side.

“Bro, what is wrong with you? And don’t you dare stand up here and lie to me. I know when something is off with my best friend.”

Ja’Marr had noticed despite Joe’s efforts to remain his nonchalant self, something was eating away at him. He noticed in the pre-season and just assumed he was trying to get back in the groove of things, but as time went on he felt that something was off and wasn’t getting better.

“Nothing is wrong.”

“Bullshit and I’m about to call your mom if you keep lying. I’m due for a bowl of snickers salad anyway.”

Taking a deep sigh, Joe threw his helmet down on the ground before responding which left Ja’Marr a little confused.

“Uh?”

“Y/N is pregnant.”

“Oh! Congratulations. Is that why you’re so damn stressed? I mean I get it. When my girlfriend told me she was pregnant, I think I went into shock for a few days.” He told him as he picked up his helmet for him and he tried to continue walking before Joe pulled him back.

“That’s not all.”

“Oh…”

“She told me this about two months ago when she had been feeling sick for about two weeks and I told her to make a doctor’s appointment. It just so happened to be on the day that I signed my new contract when she told me about her being pregnant. In not so many words, I dismissed her and dismissed the thought of her being pregnant seeing as we had only been together for four months at the time.”

“But, you apologized though, right? I’m trying to go to her restaurant on Sunday after we win. Been a while since I’ve seen her. I get that you were caught off guard by it but I mean the way that you were talking, yall were fucking morning, noon, and night. So, are you surprised?”

“Didn’t apologize, instead I accused her of being a gold digger and she broke up with me and for good reason. I said some not so nice things to her when she obviously came to me scared shitless.”

“Damn, okay. We can fix this. Just have to apologize to her and…”

“Knowing how she is, she is not going to let me anywhere near her or the baby because of how I reacted. Like, she is a person who protects herself and her well-being, as soon as she feels something is off, she cuts you out of her life without a second thought. Her boyfriends have called her cold hearted in the past, but fail to mention how they failed her as boyfriends eventually making her the way she is.”

“Okay, back up for a second. Do you want to be in this baby’s life or not? Because the Joe I know would.”

“I do now that I sat down and thought about everything that went down. I feel so bad about how I talked to her, but when I tried to call her like a day later, I found out she blocked me. But also went as far as blocking me on every social media page she has. I literally cannot find a trace of her and it’s like she doesn’t even exist.”

“Uh? She has an entire restaurant that you can go to? And a house? Go there and talk to her.”

“For her to kick me out? I can imagine that she’s told her best friend Kendall by now as well as her dad who I know probably wants to kill me. He’s a season ticket holder so I know that it’s only a matter of time before he shows up to a game and beats my face in.”

“Okay let me see real quick.” Ja’Marr said as they had finally made it back into the locker room. He went and unlocked his phone and noticed that you had done the same thing as you had done to Joe.

“Shit…”

“What?”

“She blocked me too. I was going to see if I could convince her to talk to you, but now that plan has gone out the window.” He said to Joe as he scratched the top of his head.

“I just need to make this right somehow, someway.”

“Like I said, go to the restaurant and talk to her. The worst thing that she could possibly do is say she doesn’t want to talk to you. If she does, we’ll figure out next steps from there so you can be in this baby’s life. I got your back, bro despite how fucking stupid you reacted to this entire situation. She didn’t get pregnant by herself. We’re going to fix this. Y/N cares about you too much.”

“I think the ship of her wanting anything to do with me sailed away a long time ago.”

After his presser and the day had finally come to a close, Joe got into his car and was on his way home until he started to go in the other direction. He figured that his parents would also be able to help him through this.

To Athens it was.

Majority of the drive was done in silence in order for him to be able to think about what his next steps would be regarding you and the baby. He definitely didn’t want to be seen as a deadbeat father. He wanted a chance for his child to grow up with both parents even though they probably won’t be under the same roof. Walking away would weigh so heavily on his conscience and he knew for a fact that he couldn’t go about his daily life not knowing if you as well as his child was okay.

By the time he reached his parents house, it was around 6 in the evening and saw that both of their cars were in the driveway which he was happy about. That way he wouldn’t have to re[eat the entire story to both of them separately.

Once he reached the front door and opened it, he walked in to see both of his parents sitting in the living room and they looked up at him surprised.

“Didn't think we’d be seeing you until Sunday.” His dad said as he got up to greet him, while Robin was busy analyzing him. She could tell that something was off.

“You would not drive all the way here unless something is wrong so start talking.” She told him after she hugged him.

“Hmm, you didn't waste any time. Who said something had to be wrong?”

“Because we know our child like the back of our hand.” Jim responded as Robin nodded.

“Can I at least eat something first before I get interrogated?” Joe asked and a small smirk appeared on Robin's face.

“We can do it at the same time and lucky for you, the food should be done.” She said to him as she made her way into the kitchen with Joe and Jim walking behind her.

Once everyone was settled at the table, a thought concerning you popped into Robin's head and she made it a point to ask about you.

“How’s Y/N? You haven't mentioned her lately. When are we going to meet her? I was hoping she would be there on Sunday.”

That was when Joe put his fork down on the table.

“I… We broke up at least I think we did and it's entirely my fault and I don't think she's going to forgive me.”

“I'm sure you two can talk it out. You're adults and from the way you talk about her we know she's important to you.” Jim told him and Robin quickly agreed.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe laid everything out in one breath.

“She told me she was pregnant the day I signed my contract and I accused her of being a gold digger and we got into an argument and she definitely said that I would regret the way that I had talked to her so here we are.” Joe muttered and both of his parents looked at him in disbelief.

“Joseph….”

“I know how bad it sounds and I was an asshole to her.”

“When's the last time you talked to her?”

“That was it and I haven't talked to her since. She's blocked me on everything and I don't know what to do. When I say how everything went down out loud, I feel bad all over again.”

Jim and Robin sat in silence as they had a conversation with one another only with their eyes.

“We raised you better than this.”

“I know.”

“If you had your suspicions about it, a DNA test could have been performed when they were born. Calling her a gold digger wasn't needed.”

“I know, I already feel bad enough. But I highly doubt that she is going to forgive me.”

“Well from the way you talked to her, do you think that you deserve forgiveness?” Jim responded as Joe took a deep breath and sighed.

“Probably not if I'm being honest.” He quietly said.

“I don't know what you need to do but you better make this right so I can see my future grand baby.” Robin told him as she still had a look of disbelief on her face and pointed her fork in his direction.

—

After the game on Sunday as well as the press conference, Joe was once again sitting in his car and debating if he should go to the restaurant and talk to you. Since it was a night game that was played, he knew that the restaurant wouldn’t close until 2 am and the closer it got to closing time, the less busy you would be.

His mother had been asking him every day since he confessed what he did if he had talked to you and knew for a fact that she was growing extremely annoyed with him since the answer was always no.

By the time he had reached the restaurant, it was approaching one in the morning. He parked and made his way inside only to be greeted by his favorite hostess Blanca. What caught him off guard was her giving him death glares. Blanca had only overheard what he had done from overhearing Kendall and you talking, but it was enough for her to start to not like him.

“Blanca.”

“We’re closed, Burrow.”

“Uh? You don’t close for another hour….” He trailed off and he looked down at his watch in confusion making sure that he had the time right.

“What do you want?” She asked him as she took out a nail file and began to work on her left hand.

“To see Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

“Funny seeing you here now seeing as you haven’t been around for about two months. Word on the street is that the two of you broke up and it was your fault and seeing as Y/N employs me and cannot do any wrong in my eyes, whatever I heard that you did, you definitely did it.” She quietly said as she held up her hand to examine it.

“Blanca…. I really need to talk to her and I’m not explaining myself to you. It’s between me and her, not me, her, and you.” Joe explained, but all she did was roll her eyes.

“Seeing as you have to get past me in order to get to your table, that she should have removed your name from by the way, what’s in it for me? Y/N is an amazing person and you hurt her.”

“And I’m trying to make this right and I’m going to need you to move in order for me to be able to do that.” He told her as he pulled out two crisp 100 dollar bills and she analyzed them for a second.

“Don’t act like you don’t want it. This is what’s in it for you if you let me see her.” He said as he made a move to grab it, but he quickly moved his hand until she agreed.

“Y/N is going to kill me, but fine. Come on.” She told him as she led him to his table.

Once he reached the balcony, it was a clear crisp night where you could see all of the stars in the sky. It was just the right temperature which he was thankful for because the last thing he wanted to happen was for other people to overhear their conversation if he had been forced to stay inside. When he sat down at the table, Blanca made a motion for Joe to give her the money and she quickly snatched it out of his hand.

“I’m always loyal to Y/N, but I can be bribed once in a while. Did you want to order something? I can send a waitress over?”

“No, that’s okay. I just want to see Y/N.”

“Wait until you see her belly. Anyway, there aren’t a lot of guests at the moment so she should be able to step away. I’ll go and get her for you.” She said as she attempted to give him a weak smile making note of how defeated he looked by the entire situation.

As soon as you walked out onto the balcony, the last person that you ever expected to see was sitting at the table that was the furthest from the doorway and tried to turn around to go back into the restaurant, but he saw you and quickly ran over to you and grabbed your hand which you quickly snatched away from him.

“Wait, Y/N. I just want to talk. Just… please.”

“I’m busy.”

“But the restaurant is about to close, I figured that this would be the best time for me to come and try to talk to you.”

“Remind me when this conversation is over to ban you from my restaurant. Actually let's just include everyone who works for the Cincinnati Bengals organization past and present.”

“I… deserve that.” He told you as he glanced down at your protruding belly. Blanca wasn’t lying.

“That isn't even the tip of the iceberg of what you deserve.”

“Look you blocked me on literally everything and you not only blocked me but my friends too so this was the only way I knew I would be able to talk to you.”

“But why? Why do you want to talk to me? I'm a gold digger who was only with you for your money, remember?”

“I said some not so nice things to you and I need to apologize for them.”

“I don't want your fucking apology. I heard you loud and clear the first time and you obviously meant what you said so stand by it.”

“Y/N, please. I want to make this right so I can raise this child with you. I was an asshole and I knew the risks of you possibly getting pregnant, but I didn’t care which was not right at all. Just meet me halfway here.”

“Didn't I tell you that you were going to regret how you spoke to me? And then you said that you highly doubted it?”

“Yes and I ended up regretting it just like you said. And I told my parents about you.”

“For what? So they can harass me too? Tell me that I trapped their son? Because you know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“No! They're the ones who encouraged me to try to talk to you right along with Ja’Marr. They want to meet you. My mom actually lowkey threatened me if I’m being honest.”

“I don't think you actually realize how bad you hurt me. It has been years since I was that vulnerable with someone and you just let me know that you didn't care about me at all in a matter of five minutes when I originally told you.”

“I do care about you!”

“Really? Because I recall you saying something about having a baby by someone you hardly even knew. Acting as if I was a complete stranger to you and the four months that we actually did spend together didn’t matter.”

“Okay, Y/N, I'm trying to move forward but how can we do that if all you're doing is reminding me of what I said? I know I fucked up, but I'm trying to make this right.” Joe said as he was trying to keep his voice down seeing as the entrance door to the inside of the restaurant was still open.

“Or is this because you think I'll expose you to the media and say that you're a deadbeat dad? Beloved Bengals quarterback Joe Burrow is amazing on the field and always takes the opportunity to talk to his fans. However, ignores the child that he made with his ex-girlfriend off the field.” You questioned him as you glanced down at your watch to see what time it was.

“It seems like I can't win with you no matter what I try to say or do.”

“Keep in mind that we're having this conversation because of something you did. I was simply going to let you keep living your life and not bother you. I wasn’t even going to bother you for child support. But now, look who came crawling back just like I said he would?”

You were throwing punches left and right towards Joe, making his head spin. He knew before coming here that it probably wasn’t going to be the smoothest conversation, but he did not expect anything like this.

“Can we please just call a truce? I don't want to fight with you and I can imagine that it isn't good for the baby either. I will do absolutely anything that you need me to do to be able to support you through the rest of this pregnancy. You have my word on that. Have you found out if it's a boy or a girl?” He asked and you sighed as you rolled your eyes knowing that he was right.

Being stubborn and hard headed would only be able to get you so far in life. Deep down, you didn’t want to have to do this alone, but since that was the situation you were presented with, you were simply going to grin and bear it.

I was quiet for a little while until you moved to sit down at Joe's table with him sitting across from you not wanting to push his luck.

“No, Kendall is the only one that knows. And I guess you’re right about calling a truce.” You told him as you finally gave in because this conversation was going absolutely nowhere.

“I really am sorry about what I said and how I acted towards you.”

“It happened and we can’t do anything about it now. I also hope you know that I still stand by this relationship being over. Just because I forgave one thing you did doesn't mean that things can go back to being the way they were.”

“I get it and I have to respect your decision.”

“Maybe in the future, but not now.” You quietly said while Joe nodded.

Since your back was facing the doorway, Joe looked up and noticed your best friend Kendall who was a chef as well peeking her head out to look at both of you. He assumed that Blanca had told her that he was here and sent her up to be a mediator if need be.

“You two good up here?” She asked as she made her way to the table. She also sent a death glare to Joe, but that quickly went out the window once she heard your voice.

“We’re fine, no need to worry.”

“I actually had a surprise for you and now because Joe is here, it’ll make it that much better. Let me go get it.”

“What in the world are you up to?” You asked her as she shook her head indicating that she wasn’t telling you and made her way back inside of the restaurant.

Once she returned, there was a white cake with pink and blue sprinkles being held by her and she placed it down in the middle of the table between both of you.

“Kendall, what’s this? My birthday is not for another two months and you know that?” You asked and she smiled back at you.

“Well, I knew you wanted something kind of lowkey for a gender reveal and my plan was to do it after we had closed the restaurant for the night. Since you literally text me everyday to tell you what the gender is even though after you send it, you quickly backtrack and say that you don’t want to know anymore. So, the cake will let you know if it’s a boy or a girl when you cut into it.” She explained as she handed you the knife.

“I don’t know if I want to know yet!” You exclaimed and Kendall immediately shook her head.

“No, absolutely not. We are not doing this for the remainder of your pregnancy. Cut it and cut it now. You are not going to be bothering me every day about this. Besides, baby daddy wants to know, don’t you Joe?”

“Um, yeah.” He quietly answered but also not trying to cause any more tension.

You rolled your eyes as you placed the knife onto the cake and gently pushed down. Once you separated the slice from the remainder of the cake, both your eyes went wide along with Joe’s as all three of you were now staring at a pink cake.

“I’ll finally be able to be the mother that someone deserves.”

One year later

You opened the door to your daughter’s room and peeked into her crib to see her wide awake and looking at you.

“Good morning, Amora. Are you excited to see daddy play in the first home game of the season? We get to sit up in the big suite with grandma and both of our grandpas and you have the cutest outfit that he bought you to wear for today.” You asked as you picked her up and cradled her to your chest.

All you got was a series of spit bubbles and a smile in response.

“I’m going to take that as a yes seeing as soon as I said daddy I got a smile.” You told her as you tickled her small belly now making a laugh escape.

You were caught off guard as you felt arms wrap around you from behind and Joe leaned to the side to be able to kiss your cheek.

“Good morning baby doll.” He told you as he held out his hands to take Amora from you.

“I didn’t even hear you come in. How long have you been awake?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Not long, maybe fifteen minutes.” He replied and you nodded as you went to get her outfit out of her dresser and begin to pack her diaper bag.

“And good morning my princess.” He told her as he kissed both of her cheeks.

“You get prettier every day just like your mom.”

“Stop trying to butter me up, Burrow.” You told him while laughing and getting more diapers from the bottom drawer of her changing table.

“Not buttering you up, just telling the truth. I mean look how gorgeous this kid is. We should make another one.” He replied as he began to play with her.

Hearing this, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him in disbelief as Joe smirked.

“She is literally only four months old, slow your roll.” Your body was nowhere near healed from giving birth to Amora and the thought of having another one so soon was the furthest from your mind.

“Nothing wrong with planning for the future.” He replied as he was now holding Amora with one arm and turned your face with his other hand to face him as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Fine, but I have terms and conditions.”

“Name them and it’ll be done.”

“A ring needs to be on my finger before I even consider having another one.” You told him and a smile instantly broke out across his face as he leaned down to kiss you once more.

“Is that it? But, who’s to say that I don’t already have it?”

[theemporium]

[5.1k] an off-putting interaction with a supposed fan leaves jack cursed and, somehow, you find yourself in the middle of it. because acting like your enemy's girlfriend to not aggravate a curse is totally normal, right?

[find other fright night specials here]

.

It was well known by all that you and Jack Hughes did not like each other. 

If anything, that was an understatement about how the two of you felt about each other. It was one of those things that everyone knew: the sky was blue, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and Jack Hughes was the bane of your fucking existence. 

You couldn’t quite remember a time when he wasn’t a pain in your ass. Since the day you joined the Devils team, the boy seemed to have it out for you and you returned the attitude. You were constantly at each other’s throats—much to the other boys’ entertainment—bickering and arguing and snapping. 

It was one of the safest bets you could make—especially on game days.

“Dude, I just had the weirdest fucking fan experience of my life!”

You didn’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes, your attention focused on the clipboard in your hands rather than the boy who had barrelled over and interrupted you. “Jesus, I thought players were meant to be mellow and calm before a game.” 

“Maybe that’s just what they tell you because you’re boring,” Jack retorted, flashing you a smile that was as irritating as it was charming. “And I wasn’t even talking to you. I was talking—”

“To my patient,” you bit out, turning your attention back to Dawson who was looking between the two of you with a slightly awkward but apprehensive expression. “Now, like I was asking before we were interrupted, the tension in your—”

“She was so weird,” Jack continued on, his lips twitching when he noticed the heavy sigh you let out but he kept going, facing forward towards Dawson as his shoulder brushed against yours. “I was coming out of the carpark and—”

Dawson’s nose scrunched up. “She was in the player carpark?”

“Yes!” Jack exclaimed, his eyes widening. “That’s what I’m saying, she already snuck in there and then she kept saying something but I couldn’t understand a word. So, I tried to politely—”

You snorted.

“—tell her that I was running late,” Jack continued, shooting you a quick but dirty look as he did. “But then she just started muttering to herself and waved her hands at me before walking away.” 

“Sounds like you broke a sweet old woman’s heart,” Dawson commented, grinning a little when Jack smacked his arm.

“Shut up,” Jack murmured, though his cheeks flushed pink in response. “I was already running late—”

“No surprise there,” you added.

“—I just didn’t have time,” Jack defended, once again shooting you a dirty look. “But it was weird, bro. She had some weird juju.”

Dawson pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter. “Juju?”

“Juju!” Jack repeated with a nod.

“I think you’re letting the guilt get to you, bro,” Dawson said, shaking his head in amusement. “You should head in to get ready for the game. Pretty sure Coach was asking Nico where you—”

“And you just let me stand here and talk?” Jack hissed, his eyes wide before he began rushing down the hallway towards the locker room. “What the fuck, Merc?!” 

“Always blaming everyone but himself,” you huffed, shaking your head. “Typical.”

Dawson grinned a little. “You know, people say that tension is a great aphrodisiac.” 

You shot him a blank look. “The only tension I am interested in is the kind in your muscles. Now, you gonna tell me how your hamstring is feeling or should I tell Coach to scrap you from the game?” 

Dawson quickly zipped his mouth shut.

…

It happened too fast for anyone to comprehend. 

There was five minutes left of the third period, the Devils were up one goal but it was still close. The Jets were putting up more of a fight than they anticipated, pulling moves and hits that were rough and dirty and tiring out the Devils far faster than they would have liked. 

Jack’s whole body was screaming, his heart pounding in his chest and his brain clinging onto the fact that it was almost over. Just a few more minutes until the final buzzer sounded, they just needed to make sure they didn’t let the other team score. That was all. Just tire them out in the last few minutes and they could clinch the win. 

He was so focused on thinking defensively, on thinking what would keep the Jets moving and chasing that he hadn’t even noticed the player barrelling towards him until it was too late. 

The referees blew the whistle too late, Jack’s whole body lurching with the hit as he felt himself get smacked up against the glass before he hit the ice. He felt as though someone had dunked his head underwater, his hearing muffled and his senses disoriented as he tried to scramble up onto his feet. As he tried to show that he was okay and he could keep playing. 

But the pain that ripped through his head when he tried to stand prevented him from doing so. 

“Give him space!” 

“Someone get the medics!” 

“Jack? You good?”

“He looks like he is gonna throw up!” 

Jack could feels hands on him. He could hear voices and he could hear the concern, even if he couldn’t lift his head to work out who was talking to him. He couldn’t do anything but groan and clench his eyes shut and hope that somebody would just make his head stop pounding.

He didn’t even remember how he got off the ice but he was grateful for the darkness in the medic room, the determination to finish the game as a win no longer at the top of his priority list. 

…

You knew the Devils took a chance on you when they offered you the job, but you liked to think you lived up to their expectations. 

You were fresh out of college, lost and intimidated and a degree in physiotherapy in your hands that you didn’t quite know what to do with. You had seen the opening in the Devils’ team by chance, and had applied for the sake of just having the experience of applying. You never considered getting an interview, or for them to like you. 

You never considered that they would take a chance on a student fresh out of college, offering a place under the current head of the team to shadow for a few years before fully taking over the position. 

But life had funny ways of working out and the job with the Devils was one of them.

You had been with the team for almost three years now. You were hardworking and diligent and you performed the roles of your job and beyond. You were a good employee. You knew you were. 

Which is why you were utterly baffled by the fact you were being dragged down the hallway instead of preparing your office for the players' cooldown massages and checkups. 

“What did I do? Are they angry at me? Was there a report I forgot to hand in?” You questioned the boy pulling you, nerves bubbling up in your stomach and you suddenly regretted the pretzel you ate during the second period. 

“No, no, it’s just—” Nico paused, his brows furrowing together. “I can’t really explain it. You just gotta see it.” 

“See what?” You questioned, your eyes darting over the boy’s shoulder to see him leading you towards the medic rooms. “Why are you bringing me here? Did someone pull something?” 

“It’s Jack,” Nico replied, like that explained anything.

“Did Jack pull something?” You asked, albeit a bit desperately. Your patience was already thin and the vague replies were starting to test you. “Nico, tell me what’s wrong? I thought Jack was just on concussion watch, Susan said—” 

“Just,” Nico paused outside the room, grimacing a little. “Just play along, yeah?” 

You opened your mouth, a dozen more questions on the tip of your tongue but it was that very moment the door swung open. 

“Baby, there you are! Where have you been?” 

You blinked, staring at Jack who was currently sitting up on one of the medic beds, grinning happily at you. Then your eyes shifted to the team doctor who looked sheepish, a similar expression shared by the coaching staff beside her. And finally, your eyes landed on Luke who was standing beside Jack’s bed, looking like he was seconds away from laughing (an expression you weren’t expecting on the brother of someone who took a very bad hit).

Nico cleared his throat, nudging you forward. “Found her!”

You stumbled forward, still utterly confused at the odd looks you were receiving from everyone in the room. “What? Was something broken in the hit or something?”

“Baby,” Jack groaned, though it sounded fond and sweet as he reached his hand out towards you. “Stop thinking about work for two seconds, will you? C’mere, I missed you. They said you were too busy to see me just after the hit.” 

You blinked. “Are you talking to me?” 

Jack raised his brows in amusement. “Is there another girlfriend I have that I’ve forgotten about?” 

“Girlfriend?” You repeated, your jaw almost hitting the ground. “I am—”

“Very much his girlfriend who loves him very much,” Nico interrupted, stepping forward and giving you a look you were starting to understand. “And who must be very concerned after he took that big hit that could have gone badly and could have affected his memory.”

Your lips parted slightly as everything clicked.

“Geez, Hisch, way to look at things in a glass half empty kinda way,” Jack laughed before lifting his hand out to you. “Baby, m’fine. Don’t listen to him.”

You had half the mind to shoot Luke a glare as you closed the distance between you and took Jack’s hand in yours, ignoring the snickering from the younger Hughes. You swallowed harshly, turning to look at the team doctor instead of Jack.

“So, doc, what’s the consensus?” 

The team doctor gave you a sheepish smile. “He’s been cursed.” 

You blinked. “Yeah, no shit.” 

“Shit, can you tell?” Jack frowned, lifting his other hand to touch his face. “Do I have warts on my face or something? Oh god, do you still think I’m hot?” 

“I—” You flashed him a slightly strained smile. “Still hot, babe.” 

“Oh, it gets better,” Luke mumbled under his breath. 

Jack beamed in response. 

“The hit should have been a standard hit, the Jets player wasn’t even skating fast enough to cause the…damage Jack is experiencing,” the doctor continued. “We suspected foul play and did a few additional tests. It seemed like Jack had a curse manifesting throughout the game but the brunt of the curse didn’t hit until mid-play. And whoever cursed him seemed to have it out for him because it took the environment around him and made it worse—hence, the Jets player’s hit seeming harder, the force he hit the glass and the pain caused by the hit.” 

You frowned. “So, what do we do? How do we…un-curse him?” 

“You can’t,” Luke jumped in, smiling far too wide for your liking. “Doc says we just have to let the curse play out.” 

“I hardly feel cursed,” Jack said dismissively. “What, a rough hit? That’s it? Some curse. Everything else is normal.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Until then,” the doctor continued. “I strongly advise doing anything that would…agitate the curse. It could make things worse. We got lucky with the…limited inconveniences.” 

Despite her cryptic words, you understood the message loud and clear. 

Play along and be his girlfriend until his memory returned to normal or else god knows what will happen.

You just wondered what you did to deserve being cursed along with him. 

…

“I bet it was that old lady before the game.”

You lifted your head to find Jack lounging on the massage bed in your office, staring at the ceiling as he continued to contemplate. You had mentioned to him that you needed to finish some paperwork before leaving for the day. 

You expected him to head back to his apartment with Luke, not stay behind with you.

Luke just cackled when Jack decided to stay with you. 

Your brows furrowed together. “Who?”

“The weird old lady that I told you and Dawson about before the game,” Jack said, turning his head to look back at you. “The one who I said had bad juju?” 

And of course he would remember that, just not the fact you weren’t his girlfriend.

Stupid curse. 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, leaning back in your seat. “So, what? You didn’t take a photo with her and she curses you? Seems a bit harsh.” 

“Maybe she didn’t like the fact I told her I wasn’t available,” Jack teased, winking at you.

It took every tensed muscle in your body to stop you from scrunching your nose in response. 

“Seems likely,” you replied with a strained smile on your face once more. “Right, I’m done here. Do you want a lift back?” 

Jack laughed, pushing himself to sit up. “Yeah, unless you expect me to walk back to your place and meet you there.”

You froze. “You’re coming back to mine?”

“Duh,” Jack said, his brows furrowing a little at your reaction. “Like I do after every game, babe. This isn’t new. Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah, just—” You waved him off, focusing on tidying up your desk instead. “Tired. I think I slept badly.” 

“Aw, baby,” Jack cooed, and it was odd hearing it in a sweet, concerning way rather than the condescending tone you were used to. “S’fine, you’ve got me tonight. Bet you’ll sleep like a baby.” 

“Definitely,” you agreed, making a mental note to strangle Luke the next time he came in for a deep muscle massage.

…

“Uh, where’s your clothes?” 

Jack glanced over at you, that stupid grin on his face that still looked unbelievably fond. It felt wrong to be on the receiving end of it. 

“M’getting ready for bed,” he said simply. “I can’t sleep in a shirt, babe, you know this.” 

“Right, of course I do,” you nodded. “I was just testing you. Making sure you have no more memory problems.” 

“That’s sweet, babe, but I am okay,” Jack assured you, climbing under the covers and settling on the right side of the bed, like he somehow fucking knew you preferred the left. “The doc cleared me and I’ve felt fine since. You know I’d tell you if I felt like something was wrong.”

“Yeah, I just…worry,” you answered after a few moments, trying to calm the thoughts racing through your head as you climbed into the bed next to him. You kept telling yourself to relax, to just pretend like this was normal, to do what the doctor said and play along with the curse so it doesn’t get worse.

But it was hard to believe you were sharing a bed with the boy when he—mutually—hated your guts a few hours ago.

“C’mere,” Jack hummed, pulling you into his embrace with ease and ignoring the way your body seemed to tense at the contact between you both. “Just relax. It’s hockey, hits happen. You know that.” 

You swallowed. “Curses don’t, though.” 

“True, but we will get through that too,” Jack said with so much confidence. “We’re a team, remember? I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.”

Your eyes widened as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Mhm. A team. That’s us.” 

Jack grinned against your head. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Night, Jack.” 

…

You woke up the following morning to an empty bed.

For a moment, you thought the whole thing was a bad dream. You thought that it was some twisted nightmare your brain tormented you with, something that would haunt you for the next few days but ultimately forget. 

For a moment, you let out a sigh of relief. 

And then you heard a crash from the kitchen, followed by a familiar voice whispering ‘shit’ and realised it was not, in fact, a dream.

You weren’t even sure what you expected to find when you threw the covers off and quickly rushed towards the source of the noise. But finding Jack, half dressed, with two plates on the counter with a sizzling pan on the stove was not it. 

“Oh hey, you’re up,” he beamed once he spotted you lingering in the doorway. “We didn’t have much in the fridge, so we should probably do a grocery run soon. But I managed to whip up something edible.” 

You blinked. “You cook?”

Jack groaned but there was still a smile on his face. “Babe, I’m getting better. I only set the toaster on fire twice in the last few months!” 

You blinked again, your brain far too tired to even stay with the conversation.

“Your coffee is in the fridge,” Jack said, turning back around to focus on not burning whatever was in the pan. “I didn’t make it, so I promise it tastes good. It’s from that cafe down the road you like.”

You knew the cafe well. It was one of your favourites and one you frequently bought coffees from, especially before work. You knew it wasn’t the most shocking thing in the world that he knew of its existence, but the fact he somehow seemed to know it was your favourite and choose the correct order threw you off.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip of the iced coffee whilst Jack just grinned at you. 

“You’re snappy before coffee,” he teased. 

You shuffled towards the stools by the counter, settling down as you watched the boy closely, like somehow staring at him would reverse whatever curse that old lady put on him. It didn’t. Instead, you were just blatantly staring at the shirtless boy in your kitchen like he was an alien.

He almost felt like one, if you were being honest.

“So,” you spoke up after a few moments. “What are your plans for today?” 

Jack glanced over his shoulder, shooting you an odd look. “Are you sure you’re not the one who got hit last night? We have the charity event with the other boys, remember? The picnic in the park? Don’t tell me my date is bailing on me.”

You laughed nervously. “Of course not! Just…testing you again!”

“Well, you can chill with the tests,” he assured you, pressing another fucking kiss on your forehead that made you feel warm and gooey and confused as he placed your plate in front of you. “M’okay, baby, promise. Also, I promised Nico we would bring something so we should probably stop by some bakery and grab cookies, or something.” 

You only hummed in response, fighting the urge to blurt out the truth and somehow relieved that you wouldn’t have to be spending the day alone with him.

…

“You. Here. Now.” 

Luke blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at you. He pointed his finger towards himself and you could have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so desperate. 

“Yes, you, idiot. Hurry up.” 

However, Luke was a little bitch so he slowly made his way over to the tree you were currently hiding behind, a plate of finger foods in his hand that he was snacking away on. 

“Sup?” 

You stared at him blankly. “You’re already on thin ice.” 

“Aw,” Luke cooed, a teasing grin growing on his face. “Was the night with Jack that bad?” 

“He knows things!” You hissed under your breath, a bit more frantic that you would have preferred. “We need to find this fucking witch, I can’t do this anymore.” 

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” Luke pointed out.

“It’s freaky as fuck,” you retorted. “He knows things about me that a normal boyfriend would.” 

“Wow, it’s almost like magic,” Luke deadpanned.

“I hate you.” 

“Rude way to talk to your possible future brother-in-law,” Luke grinned, letting out a squeal when you pinched his side. “Ow, ouch! Okay! I’ll try to keep him away from you as much as I can.” 

You sighed. “Thank you.” 

…

It took twenty minutes before that plan flopped. 

Jack snuck off after an interview he had done with Luke for the Devils social media team, hardly giving his brother a chance to come up with an excuse to hang out on the other side of the park before he hunted you down. 

You almost screamed when a body flopped down on the blanket beside you, Jack’s grinning face in your line of vision as he settled his head on your lap. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, lifting his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. “You’ve been quiet today.” 

“Just tired,” you said, the response almost automatic at this point. 

But Jack frowned. “I think you might be getting sick. We should pick up some soup from that deli place you like, down in Hoboken. Maybe pick up some tea too.” 

Your throat felt tight but you nodded nonetheless, hoping your surprise wasn’t obvious on your face.

Fucking magic. 

…

When you woke up the next morning, Jack still thought he was your boyfriend.

The next day was the same. 

So was the one after that. 

And the days following. 

Before you knew it, it had been well over a week—honestly closer to two weeks—and the curse seemed well and truly cemented in place. It was still an absolute mind-fuck, and not just for you but everyone on the team. 

It felt like one big secret you were all holding back on telling Jack, letting him live in some weird and ignorant bliss. The worst part was that he was so unsuspecting of the people closest to him lying to his face. He didn’t question the snickers Dawson or Luke would sometimes let out when the two of you showed up to work together. Or the way Nico seemed to actively avoid talking about the relationship (despite Jack insisting it was his friend’s shove that prompted him to ask you out). Or the fact you had been ‘sick’ for the last two weeks and, therefore, unable to kiss him.

Though, that one was easy with hockey players and their odd superstitions and need to prevent any possible scrap from a game. 

He was so trusting and gullible when it came to the people around him, you almost felt bad. 

The emphasis being on almost because by some weird and twisted turn of events, you didn’t mind it. Not really. Not after the initial weirdness and tension of it wore off. Maybe you had been single for too long or maybe you were mourning something you had never truly experienced, the love and attention of someone who notices, who sees you, who cares about keeping you happy. 

It felt wrong, like you were exploiting Jack for emotions and feelings he didn’t organically have. But it also felt too nice to tell the truth, to tell him that you weren’t really his girlfriend and lose the benefits you had gained over the last two weeks.

It was weird seeing this side of Jack. Not a bad weird, just a different kind. 

A kind you knew you would have to give up once the curse was gone.

“M’gonna be a bit longer, Dawson wanted to run some more drills outside of practice,” Jack said as he lifted himself off the massage bed, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you that made your stomach twist in endearment (when once upon a time, they pissed you off). “Wait for me? I’ll pay for your lunch.” 

“You don’t have to bribe me, you know,” you snorted but your eyes fluttered shut as he rounded your desk, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But deal. We’re getting burritos.” 

He beamed, shaking his head fondly. “Fine. I’ll catch you in a few hours.” 

You watched him scurry out of your office, probably running through the corridors to get to the locker room before he was reprimanded for being late. He had even arrived two hours earlier than he was meant to, just because he wanted to chill in your office whilst you worked. 

It shouldn’t have made your heart flutter when you knew it wasn’t really Jack but it did.

It really fucking did.

…

It was an hour or so later when you couldn’t ignore your stomach rumbling anymore. 

There was still another two hours before Jack would step off the ice, heading towards the locker room to shower and change before the two of you could grab some food. And you sure as hell could not wait that long. 

You let out a groan, your joints clicking as you stood up from your desk for the first time in a few hours. You ignored the voice in the back of your head that reminded yourself to try walking around a bit more between writing reports before you headed into the hallway, deciding to treat yourself to the vending machines closer to the players’ locker room (it had better snacks, despite what management liked to tell everyone).

You had been standing in front of the vending machine with your brows furrowed in contemplation that you hadn’t even noticed an old lady approaching you.

“You’re the girl.” 

You jumped out of your skin, an unflattering noise of surprise leaving your lips as you stared at the woman with wide eyes. “I, uh, what?” Your brain took a few seconds to catch up. “I mean, I am a girl. I don’t know about being the girl.”

The woman smiled and it sent shivers down your spine. “Hm, yes, I can see it now. His aura lingers on you.” 

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, but the magic remains. It is strong. Pungent,” she continued, tsking as she shook her head. “You delay the inevitable!” 

Your eyes widened as you took a step back on instinct. “You’re the one that cursed Jack, aren’t you?”

“Curse?” Her smile became knowing, sneaky, disconcerting. “Oh, honey, there was no curse.”

You frowned. “Uh, ma’am, with all due respect, I find that hard to believe considering he—” 

“All I did was give him what he wanted,” she said, so simply and so directly that it caught you off guard. “His deepest desire to be his, though I assumed that would be a game win. The losing streak was quite off-putting.” 

“I—” You blinked. “So, wait. You’re a fan?” 

“Yes,” she stated. “Was it not obvious?” 

You bit back the sarcastic response that wanted to leave your lips. “And what? You cursed him to win the game?” 

“That was my mistake for assuming it was what he desired the most,” she replied, that almost-creepy smile on her face. “It seems his deepest desires lay with you.” 

You stared at the woman in front of you. “You’re joking, right?” 

“I do not joke,” she stated bluntly. 

“So…the way he’s been acting…” you trailed off, your mind racing with a million different thoughts.

“All himself,” the woman answered. “Think of the magic as the confidence boost he needed to get there.” 

“He likes me?” 

“Yes.”

“Like, properly?” 

“Yes.” 

“And everything he’s been doing? That’s been done by him and not influenced by magic? Not even the tidbits of knowledge?” 

“My dear, it sounds like you have been very oblivious to how this man feels about you.” 

You shot her a look, unsure how you felt about being called out by the very witch who ‘didn’t curse’ the boy you had been calling your boyfriend for the last two weeks. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Though, it seems like his change in relationship with you has been what he needed to get him out of his losing slump, so I guess we both win.”

You frowned a little. “You’re one odd lady.” 

She shrugged in response. 

“How did you even get in here?” 

…

“Run it again!” 

Jack’s muscles were screaming at him as he pushed himself across the ice, pushing himself to go faster, faster, faster like the coach wanted as he carried the puck on his stick. His eyes were laser-focused on the players around him, on dodging the defencemen lined up in front of him and skating around them to get to the goal. 

He didn’t let himself relax until the sound of the puck hitting the back of the net hit his ears.

“JACK!” 

He turned his head, expecting to find one of his teammates skating towards him to celebrate his goal in their makeshift drill. But instead of Nico skating towards him with his arms in the air or Dougie prepared to smack him on the back for dodging his attempts, he instead found you standing by the tunnel. 

You looked flustered and on edge and panicked, and it made his spine straighten.

Jack dodged the others, ignoring whatever the coaching staff were barking at them as he made his way towards you at a speed that you would have disapproved of if you knew how sore his muscles were.

“What? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He asked frantically, confused as to why else you would have interrupted a training practice. 

“You like me,” you said to him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, babe. I do. What are you—”

But before he could continue, you grabbed his face with both hands and tugged him closer. He stumbled a step or two before his lips were pressed on yours. His surprise disappeared after a few seconds, his body melting into the kiss and his brain forgetting whatever he was trying to ask moments ago.

He was still in a daze when you pulled away, your hands still holding his face and your gaze completely focused on him, like you were expecting to see something different. 

“Do you still like me?” You asked, a little breathless.

And he felt winded. 

Winded by an influx of memories and realisations and emotions that were all his own. Winded by the magic coursing through him, ringing obvious and evident to his body despite two weeks of feeling nothing. Winded by the look on your face, a hint of fear and hope shining in your eyes as you awaited his response.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his cheeks burning hot. “I do.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your lips twitching upwards. “Good.” 

And then you kissed him again. 

However, this time it was the shrill of a whistle that broke you two apart, the annoyed voices of the coaching staff telling Jack to stop slacking and continue on with his training ringing loud and clear through the rink. 

“We still have a lot to talk about,” you said as Jack began to skate back towards the rest of the group. “Like, a lot.”

He grinned at you. “We still on for burritos after?” 

You laughed. “Only if you’re still playing.” 

“It’s a date, baby,” Jack winked. 

It was well known by all that you and Jack Hughes did not like each other. 

But maybe a little bit of magic was the shove the two of you needed to realise that wasn’t quite true. 

.

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

The night was out. Chilled but rather comforting on the skin. You were outside, waiting as your sister had already taken the carriage in a haste. Not a few moments ago she had a little encounter with Colin Bridgerton. One that you witnessed from afar. You could tell by your sister’s expression that she was displeased. Distressed to say the least. Once again had Colin Bridgerton said something to upset your sister. It was getting out of hand and you hated him for it. Hating how he toggled with your sister’s feelings.

They had been friends for a while now, but your sister desired more. He was the only good gentleman that gave her attention during the balls. Even if it was just a little. It wasn’t his first slip, but this time you clearly had enough of him. Now that your sister had run off with the carriage, you were left to return home on your own. Waiting for the carriage to return to the estate of this night’s ball would take awfully long.

Rubbing your arms gently, you hesitantly decided what to do. Go or stay? Slightly turning your head you noticed in the corner of your eye a figure approach. Once you fully got a glimpse of him, you rolled your eyes with annoyance. – “Y/n.” – Colin said approaching you. – “Good night Mr. Bridgerton.” – you answered coldly turning your posture away from him. – “Do you not need a chaperone?” – he asked making you stop in your way. With a deep sigh, trying to temper your annoyance down, you turned back to him.

“Certainly not from you.” – you answered with a forced smile. He stared confused at you. Trying to process the meaning of your words. He slightly came closer to you. – “Did…did I say something to offend you?” – he questioned. You scoffed making him furrow his brows dumbfound. Colin and you hadn’t been the closest, yet he considered himself acquainted with you through your sister. – “To my sister you did!” – you bit back finding his act of stupidity tiring.

“Pen?” – Colin. – “I…I don’t understand.” – he answered. – “Why do you minimize my sister?” – you asked him boldly. Colin was taken back by your reply, looking surprised at you. – “Minimize… no, Y/n… I…I wrote to your sister everyday this summer with little reply.” – he said with a charming smile. You smiled in return as Colin flourished from seeing you smile. Yet your smile had other intensions. – “Oh, yes I know all about the letters you wrote her. Letting her know about all your adventures. I am well aware of that Colin!” – you pressured on.

Colin chuckled nervously. – “Are… are you going to make me say it out loud?” – he responded feeling a bit foolish. You quirked your eyebrow up unintrigued.  – “I missed her.” – he told you. You busted out in a laugh. – “You miss her?” – you positioned yourself stronger, fiercer to go up against your sister’s good friend. – “You miss her, but you would never court her is that correct?”

“Y/n I…” – Colin started finally losing a bit of his  boyish foolishness towards you. – “I overheard you!” – you called out. – “At my mama’s ball last season… telling everyone you would never ever court Penelope Featherington.” – You felt yourself get a bit emotional, defending your sister against her best friend. Against the one she loved. Some voices approached as it drew Colin’s attention briefly away from you. – “Bridgerton.” – one of them greeted as they passed. Colin bowed his head to them before leaning a bit closer to you. Lowering his voice he spoke – “Perhaps we should go where there’s somewhere private?” – he suggested.

“Because I embarrass you?” – you said loud enough for anyone walking around to hear. – “My sister can change her entire wardrobe and gain confidence but that would never take away that she is the laughingstock of the ton.” – you outed in anger. – “My sister doesn’t deserve a cruel man like yourself in her life.” – you picked up the hem of your dress. – “Good night Sir!” -  you saluted coldly at him before taking off in the night. Colin watched you leave with a certain guilt eating at him.

Two days later you were with your sisters and mama at a garden event. Your sisters sitting down in a chair underneath a tent, waving themselves some cool. Your mother was chatting with some of the other mother’s. You had no idea where Penelope was. You on the other hand were playing battledores and shuttlecock’s with some of the other season’s participants.

You stood on one side with a girl you were quite familiar with. On the other side were two gentleman. The shuttlecock went high up in the air as the boys knocked it to each other. You were waiting for the shuttlecock to come your way to hit it to her and then back to the boys without it touching the ground.

Somehow your attention got drawn away from the heavens. Seeing Colin Bridgerton clearly look for someone not far from you. – “Miss Y/n!” – one of the men called out as the shuttlecock went your way. Your attention was back as you calculated the moment your battledore hit the shuttlecock. The shuttlecock went up in the air as you thought back of annoying Colin.

The shuttlecock came down once more as you needed to pass it to your companion. Yet you let the shuttlecock come lower, batting it away with your battledore towards Colin. You watched as it hit him in the head. The shuttlecock fell in his hand as he looked down at it confusingly. Rubbing his sore head with the other one. The girl at your side pointed firmly at Colin to go and fetch it. You sighed loud going over to him. The moment Colin noticed you approach, he dropped to a bow. – “My shuttlecock.” – you said offering your hand for him to lay it in.

 “You hit me.” – Colin responded. – “Must have slipped.” – you responded sarcastic. Colin was all but amused. – “Now my shuttlecock.” – you insisted upon. Colin was about to give it to you till he changed his mind last moment. He had taken a deep breath, moving the shuttlecock behind his back. – “I’ll give it back if you allow me to apologise first.” – he started throwing a charming smile at you. – “You should apologise to my sister.” – you made clear not wanting an apology from him.

Colin tensed his jaw, as he had hoped for another outcome. – “I…Y/n.” – he sighed out. – “I don’t require your useless apology. My sister needs to be apologized to.” – you told him clearly. Colin sighed loud getting worked up by your attitude towards him. – “Fine! If you don’t accept my apology, you might not even deserve it.” – he snapped back. – “I don’t even want it!” – you fired back. – “Fine!” – he finished. – “Fine!” – you repeated loud.

“Good luck getting this back than!” – he showed you the shuttlecock again. You slapped your hand at it as Colin had pulled it away in time. – “Give it back!” – you called out to him, getting some attention from bystanders. – “You don’t deserve this.” – he mocked, taunting you by showing you the shuttlecock just out of reach. You groaned annoyed as he moved it behind his back. You knocked into him full force to reach for it behind his back. A bit too forceful perhaps?

Colin stumbled backwards as you fell with him. With a loud oof fell you on him. Now having the full attention of those around you. You were very much aware of the staring eyes. You pushed yourself hard off him. He felt the air get sucked out of his lungs. – “Eat it!” – you cursed at him storming off. Colin sat up, swallowing nervously at the sudden attention. Getting up, he saw Penelope look his way. He shamefully turned his head away, getting up and taking his leave.

**

Lights were flickering in the warmth of the room. Music filled the room. Dancers were taking in the centre of the room. You stood by the side with your two other sisters and mama. Your gaze went across the room. When your eyes fell upon Colin, you glared at him. He glared back at you, turning his head proudly away. You stubbornly looked away as well. Looking down, you fidgeted on your dress. Somehow it pained you to see him act so coldly towards you.

You didn’t intend on doing so but the more time you spend with Colin, arguing and bickering, the more you felt drawn to him. You shouldn’t be falling for him, but yet you were. Some novels say that you grow more attracted to those things you hate the most with frequency. This might be the case for Mr. Bridgerton and you. Mama nudged you hard making you lift your chin back up. She gestured to you, to smile so you could attract more eligible men.

Not being in the mood for her interfering, you took off. Blending through the crowd to escape her. Pushing yourself through the crowd. Coming to a brief stop, you came face to face with your sister Penelope. Your eyes widened briefly before you rushed off to the hallway to avoid her. Penelope blended with the crowd, lowering her head when she saw Colin near. He was clearly in pursuit of someone.

Almost panting he disappeared through the same door you had left moments ago. It made Penelope think doubtfully. You exhaled loud setting your hands on the desk from the room you had run off to. Clutching your heart, you felt it beat faster. Faster then it normally did. Was this Colin’s doing? Shaking your head you didn’t want to think about him. It was wrong to think of his that way. Your sister was madly in love with him. You couldn’t… not for the sake of her. – “Y/n.” – you jumped back startled at the hearing of your voice.

Colin had entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. You rounded the desk, creating more distance between you and him. – “Shouldn’t you dance with my sister.” – you sarcastically suggested to him. He exhaled soft, practically done with your flight modus. Done with how you kept pushing yourself away and shoving your sister to the front. – “Y/n.” – Colin started as you didn’t want to hear it. – “You keep doing it Colin. You keep minimizing my sister.” – you told him.

“Ignoring every hint she throws at you, and you too blind to see it. I hate how you ridicule my sister’s feelings towards you. She is not some object.” – you ranted out as Colin came nearer, going round the desk to reach you. – “You tell her you miss her, but you won’t court her. Why?” – you asked desperate. – “I can’t court her.” – he answered standing face to face with you.

“Why?” – you repeated wanting to have a clear answer. Colin felt himself be swept up by the heated moment. – “I just can’t.” – he responded loudly feeling his hands tremble to get a hold on you. – “Answer me. Clearly!” – you called out getting up in his face. – “Because I want you!” – Colin shouted back, practically panting from the tension released inside of him. Your eyes widened.

Colin grabbed for your face. The hell with being a gentleman. The hell with your reputation and his. In this moment he just wanted you. He forced himself forwards, pressing his lips on yours. Your gaze widened more at his touch. His lips gently brushing against yours as you fell under his spell. Giving in to the sensation as it was beyond this world.

Butterflies flattering around inside till they suddenly dropped with realisation. Guilt. You pushed Colin off, breaking off the kiss. Colin blinked confused at you breaking it off. Stunned you held your hand before your mouth. As if something was stolen from your lips. A kiss perhaps? – “My sister…” – you whispered out knowing just how much she loved him. – “Y/n…” – Colin said wanting to approach you.

“No!” – you called out clear, taking a step back. – “I…I can’t do this…” – you told him running around the desk. Throwing the door open and taking your leave. Colin went around the desk as well, standing in the door opening. One last attempt to call out to you, but you were out of reach.

Exhaling deep, he lowered his head, heart broken at the loss of touch. He never courted Penelope but he found himself falling for you. Her sister. The sister that yelled at him. That wasn’t afraid to speak back even when some might find it out of turn. He liked how sincere you were, but also caring and free. A bright personality when one got to know you, truly know you.

Penelope bit the sour apple down. A single tear fell down her cheek, yet her face stood bitter. Bitter with hatred for what she had just seen. Her own sister fleeing a room with Colin Bridgerton showing himself in the door opening. It was clear to anyone that you had been in there privately with him.

Penelope made her way to the carriage. Rushing to get home. In the carriage she pulled out a piece of parchment from her reticule. The carriage hobbled yet she maintained balance. Taking out a pencil, she set it down on the parchment.

Dearest gentile reader…

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  [read part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

[honnelander]

tart

HERE WE GO EVERYONE. the long awaited jealous!Sanji fic!! AKA a prequel to the main go fish! storyline!! this fic takes place before the main events in go fish! but after they met at the Baratie. and don't worry, part 3 for the main series will be on the way. enjoy!! request: i was wondering if you’d consider making a lil imagine/blurb about sanji being jealous of someone flirting with the reader? like imagine zoro and the reader just talking and then zoro suddenly leans closer and whispers to her “it seems we’ve got an audience” or smth like that

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.7k

pairing: jealous opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: Sanji watches Zoro and reader talk and gets jealous. Nami tries to calm him down but fails.

go fish! series: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @nimtano @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera

“Reading that garbage again?” a voice called out. 

At hearing the question, you glanced up from your well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, your favorite book, only to see a calm Zoro casually stroll over to you with a hint of amusement on his face.  

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t knock it till you try it, oh great sword master,” you playfully jabbed as you shook out the book to him as he leaned his back against the ship’s front railing, resting his elbows on top of it. “The almighty Zoro isn’t allergic to reading, is he?” 

Zoro snorted, glancing down at your cross-legged position on top of a crate before returning his sights to the Going Merry’s deck and the open ocean. “Yeah, I am allergic,” he agreed. “Allergic to reading that monstrosity you call a book.” 

“Ooo, ‘monstrosity’. That’s a mighty big word for a non-reader like yourself, Zoro. Good job,” you teased as you marked your page before closing the book and joining your friend in looking across the deck and out towards the ocean. 

The green-haired swordsman crossed his arms. “I read.” 

“Mmhm,” you hummed, not convinced. “Sure you do.” 

“I do,” he defended in a gruff voice. 

“Oh yeah? Here, I’ll make it easy for you: tell me about one book you’ve read.” 

Zoro scoffed. “I can tell you about way more than one.” 

You couldn’t help the surprised noise that came out of you. “Oh, yeah? ’More than one’?” you asked with a raised brow and glanced up at your fellow straw hat, trying to wipe off the grin on your face.  

You were certainly surprised that Zoro has read more than one book in his lifetime, but you weren’t surprised that he took your earlier question as a challenge. Classic Zoro, you thought in amusement. The guy could never pass up a challenge, no matter what it was about. 

So, you repositioned yourself on your crate, making yourself comfortable for the discussion ahead. “Alright, come on,” you said and sat up straighter, urging Zoro on, “let’s hear it. Tell me all about them.” 

From the back of the ship, on the upper deck above the kitchen, a certain chef took a long drag on his cigarette as he watched you and his least favorite swordsman be engrossed in conversation. Sanji removed the butt of his cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and index finger, keeping the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could, before slowly exhaling the smoke from his nostrils, his eyes never leaving the two of you. 

“Daaamn, Sanji,” Usopp drawled as he messed with the sails on the ship’s mast nearby, glancing at the chef for a second before returning to his knots. “You look like a smoking dragon. All ferocious and mean. And....extra smokey.” 

Sanji’s gaze didn’t budge, Usopp’s words not fazing the cook in the slightest. “Oh yeah? And what of it knot-boy?” he asked with a slight edge to his words, taking another drag on his cigarette and exhaling through his lips. 

At Sanji’s snarky question, Usopp recoiled and looked back at Sanji more closely with a confused expression. It was rare for Sanji to lose his cool or be in a bad mood for no reason, unless he was going back and forth in an argument with Zoro but even then, the blonde chef usually took those in stride with a smile, much to Zoro’s annoyance, so this was new. 

“Aren’t those things supossed to calm you down?” Usopp asked as he nodded to the cigarette in the cook’s hand. 

“I am calm,” Sanji rebuked a little too quickly to be true.  

Usopp then noticed how intent Sanji’s stare was towards something at the front of the ship and raised an eyebrow. Whatever he was staring at must be pissing him off because the chef’s gaze looked absolutely lethal. What the hell could be making him so mad? Usopp followed Sanji’s gaze, looked towards the front of the ship, and saw....y/n and Zoro talking? 

To Usopp, it looked like they were just having a normal conversation, but when he saw y/n laugh at something Zoro said, hitting his arm with a grin and Zoro having a slight smile, he heard Sanji scoff loudly in disgust and mutter something under his breath. 

And in that moment, it dawned on Usopp what was up, and it was hard for him to contain his shit eating grin: Sanji was jealous. Sanji was jealous of y/n and Zoro. To Usopp, it looked like a completely normal conversation between friends since he knew of y/n’s affections for the blonde cook. But to Sanji? It probably seemed like a complete flirt fest, and he was jealous. 

Up until this point Usopp had thought y/n’s crush was only one sided. Sure, he’s had his suspicions ever since Sanji seemed to stare at y/n more often than not, but Usopp was still just a guy at the end of the day, so he never considered if Sanji might actually have feelings for y/n too.  

But now? Oh boy- Usopp was all caught up to speed and he couldn’t wait to meddle in their budding relationship and tease the heck out of them both for it (when the time was right, of course).  

Usopp looked back over at Sanji and wiped off his grin as best he could. “You say somethin’ Sanji?” he asked innocently, knowing damn well the chef said absolutely nothing. “I thought I heard you mutter something.” 

Sanji flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “No.” 

“Oh. Must just be the wind then...” 

Suddenly, y/n’s laughter could be heard from the ship’s front and Sanji nearly snarled in disgust and shook his head. “What the-” Sanji started but let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s not even funny,” Sanji complained before taking another hit on his cigarette. 

Usopp couldn’t help himself, he had to poke the bear. “Who, Zoro? I think he’s funny.” 

The blonde chef let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, funny looking.” 

He also had to twist the knife. “Well, y/n seems to think he’s funny.”  

Sanji chuckled to himself and stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating Usopp’s words. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he muttered and took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and immediately lighting up a fresh one. 

Unbeknown to the cook and slingshot fighter, standing underneath them and near the tangerine trees was the Going Merry’s orange-haired navigator, who had heard their whole conversation. 

------------- ----- 

“Zoro!” You laughed loudly and hit your crewmate on his bicep. “Reading books on how to dismember your opponents doesn’t count as real reading!” 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Zoro’s face as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Says you. Can you tell me fifty different ways on how to cut up a body? No? I didn’t think so.” 

“Fair enough,” you relented good naturedly with a small laugh as you shook your head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” 

A comfortable silence fell over you both as you let out a small sigh, watching the waves crash. 

After a few quiet beats, however, you felt Zoro lean into your personal space as he lowly murmured, “Don’t look now, but it seems like we have an audience.” 

You blinked in confusion as your eyebrows pulled together. “What? An audience? Where?” Completely disregarding Zoro’s instructions, you immediately started looking around the ship. “Watching what?” 

“Us,” Zoro said simply and returned to his full height. 

You shook your head in disbelief. “What? Us? Now who would be watching-” you started to say but the rest of your sentence died in your throat when you saw piercing blue eyes staring right you both. “...us?” you finished slowly.  

Sanji? Sanji was your audience? But- why? What? You were so confused. Even from this far away, you could tell something was off with him. His posture was stiff and the usual smile that adorned his features whenever he saw you was nowhere to be seen.  

“When did he get here? I didn’t know he was on deck...” you trailed off, about to move to hop off the crate and make your way over to Sanji to see what the matter with him was when something stopped you.  

Before you could hop off the crate, you saw Sanji put out his cigarette and make his way off the deck and head down into the kitchen, not sparing you another glance. As you made your way across the deck, about to follow him into the kitchen, Usopp quickly called out to you from up on the ship’s mast, asking for your help with knot tying since ‘yours were so much better than his’. You agreed with a small sigh, not wanting Usopp to struggle by himself, so you made your way to the mast and started climbing, but not before sparing the entryway to the kitchen one last glance. 

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji flittered around, grabbing random ingredients he saw at first glance. Mushrooms? Grabbed. A block of cheese? Sure. Corn? Ok. Tomatoes? Sure, whatever. 

As he looked down at the growing pile of ingredients on the counter, he stopped for a second to examine the pile, putting his hands in his pockets. What the hell was he supposed to make out of this? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight, and it was bothering the absolute hell out of him. The kitchen had always been his sanctuary, a place where he could always rely on to decompress and escape from his thoughts as he got swept away in the act of cooking that came so naturally to him. Usually. 

But today? His natural instincts weren’t there. He felt his chef’s mind drawing up a blank on how to mix all of these items together and the longer he stood there, the more ticked off he became. On a normal day, he’d have thought up of 15 different dishes he could make and already have been busy at work making one of those ideas come to life. But now? There was nothing. No ideas swirling around in his head, nothing.  

He could feel his face twist up in irritation the longer he was standing there until finally, he let out a short, brusque sigh, muttering, “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with all this?” 

“You’re the chef, aren’t you supposed to figure that out or something?” 

The blonde chef glanced up from the pile and saw Nami casually strolling in from the deck and up to the counter opposite of him, hands clasped behind her back, with a curious eyebrow raised.  

Instantly, to cover up his sour mood, the cook plastered on a fake smile. “Well, it seems my mind is a little blank at the moment, Darling. Why don’t you come over here and help me come up with an idea or two?” he offered with a wink, taking his hands out to lean against the counter. 

But Nami saw right through him. “I’m good, thanks,” she declined bluntly. Nami wasn’t sure when she had become the Going Merry’s pseudo-therapist, especially since this crew hadn't been together for more than 3 months at this point, but someone had to be, and she figured the only way to get Sanji to talk right now would be if he was doing something he loved: cooking. “Actually,” she started offhandedly, “I have a request for you.” 

Now that immediately got the cook’s attention. “Oh?” he asked with a raised brow, straightening up as he dropped the fake flirty persona. 

“Yeah,” she said aloud, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself that she actually had a request for the cook. From behind her back, she pulled out a couple of tangerines. With a slight smile and raised brow, she said matter-of-factly, “If I remember correctly, I believe I was told I could ask for a tangerine tart anytime I’d like?” 

A genuine smile came across Sanji’s face at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he laughed with a nod. “The Madam is correct.” He took the fruits from Nami’s hands and placed them on the counter, pushing away his bizarre pile of ingredients to make room. “One tangerine tart coming right up,” he said and started bustling around the kitchen with purpose this time, pulling out the necessary ingredients, a far cry from his movements a couple of minutes ago. 

Seeing Sanji occupied, Nami took a seat at the table, sitting where she had left her charting journal and reading glasses from breakfast that morning. She opened her journal back up and put her glasses on, flipping through the pages and resuming her sketch of her latest map.  

Both of them worked in silence for a few minutes, both engrossed in their respective activities until Nami broke it. Before speaking, she snuck a glance at the chef, making sure he was preoccupied before she started prodding and sure enough, he was. Perfect. 

“You know, I never told anyone this before,” Nami started, laying the groundwork for Sanji to open up, creating a tit for tat sort of thing, “but I actually love tangerine tarts.” 

Sanji huffed slightly with a slight smile, not looking up from his work. “Oh yeah? Well, be prepared to fall in love with them all over again.” He started pouring heavy cream into a separate bowl, adding sugar before whisking it all together. “Even Zeff used to say I made a mean tangerine tart.” 

Nami hummed. “Maybe you can make Zoro fall in love with them too,” she said casually, sneaking a quick look at Sanji, only to see him press his lips together in a firm line and start to whisk the cream harder at the mention of the swordsman. “Or y/n,” she added quickly. “I don’t think she’s ever had one either.” 

At the mention of you, Sanji’s face and motions relaxed slightly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I...think you’re right about that.” 

The orange-haired girl rotated her journal ninety degrees. She decided to prod a little harder. “I think I saw them talking earlier.” 

Sanji simply hummed in agreement, cracking eggs into a bowl, staying silent. With the third egg, however, he cracked it a little too hard on the counter, causing the raw egg contents to splatter everywhere and onto his black blazer.  

“Ah- fucking hell,” he muttered in disgust, throwing the broken eggshell into the trash before cleaning his hands off in the sink. 

Nami looked up from her work and quirked an eyebrow at her crewmate. “You good?” 

The blonde cook shook his head once with a sardonic smile. “Never better,” he quipped. 

Ok, she couldn’t do this dance anymore. Nami closed her journal and took off her glasses, looking straight at him. “Alright, you want to tell me what the hell is going on? You’re acting weird, even for you.” Sanji opened his mouth to protest but Nami spoke before he could. “And don’t lie to me.” 

Mouth still open, Sanji exhaled slowly and deflated. “I- I’m fine.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Sanji-” 

Upon hearing his name, Sanji blinked and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Nami rarely called him by his name.  

“Cut the bullshit,” she continued. “I heard your conversation with Usopp and you certainly didn’t sound ‘fine’.” 

Sanji was caught red-handed. With what exactly? He didn’t really know but he did know he was caught in a lie because he definitely did not feel fine. He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss for words. “I...” he sighed and took off his ruined blazer, draping it over the back of an empty chair, rolling up his sleeves as he avoided Nami’s expectant stare. He grabbed a dirty rag and started cleaning the egg off the counter. “I don’t know...” 

“Sanji, you can barely crack an egg.” 

That brought out a short bark of laughter from the chef. “Yeah,” he relented. “Obviously.” 

“Is this because of your jealously over y/n and Zoro?” 

“My- my what? My jealously?” he sputtered and scoffed, still not looking Nami in the eye. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why on earth would I be jealous over that stick in the mud?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nami played along, tapping her temple, pretending she was deep in thought. “Maybe because you saw and heard them laughing from all the way across the ship?” she pointed out. When Sanji tried to wave off her accusations with an unconvincing smile, Nami decided to just go in for the kill. If Sanji wasn’t going to admit his obvious liking towards her female crewmate and friend himself, then she’d have to do it for him. “Maybe....maybe because you might have a little crush on y/n?” she offered with a raised brow, staring right at him. 

“Wh-what?? A crush?” Sanji quickly rebuked, jerking his head back. “What are we? Little kids?” 

From her spot at the table, Nami could swear she saw a faint dusting of pink appear on his cheeks. She smirked to herself. She got him. “Well,” she shrugged, “it doesn’t matter how old we get, we all get crushes from time to time.” 

You? A crush? Sanji shook his head as he resumed making the tangerine tart. Labeling whatever feelings he had for you as simply a ‘juvenile crush’ didn’t feel right to him. You were more than that, and you didn’t deserve to be labeled as such. “No, she’s not a crush.” 

“Oh, so you like-like her?” Nami said like it was obvious. “You like her as more than just a friend.” 

“I-” Sanji started but stopped himself and sighed, feeling his irritation grow the longer this conversation went on. Now even the kitchen wasn’t bringing him peace? First, smoking and now this? What was next? “Why does it matter? All of a sudden, my love life is interesting to you and up for debate? I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” 

Nami watched his jaw tense and his body become stiff as he started zesting the tangerines. Clearly whatever feelings Sanji was dealing with, he wasn’t ready to openly talk about them, so she decided to back off.

She put her hands up in surrender, slumping back in her chair as she said, “Hey, I’m...I’m sorry. You’re right.” Deciding to give the chef his space, she gathered her belongings and stood up, making her way to the counter. “If you ever need to...talk or anything, I’m here,” she offered quietly. In a normal tone, she added, “Let me know when the tarts are ready. I really do want y/n and Zoro to try one.” 

Speaking of the devil, you came into the kitchen from the deck, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sanji cooking. Seeing Sanji cook was one of your favorite things and you always loved to guess what he was making. “Sanji! Ooo, what are you making?” 

Nami watched as Sanji’s whole demeanor change at the sight of you, like a switch being flipped on. She couldn’t help but smile knowingly between you both. “I’ll be in my room,” she announced before making her way out of the kitchen, leaving you both alone. 

Sanji had a wide smile, shoulders relaxing as his eyes lit up. “Why don’t you guess? Give it your best shot.” 

“Oh! I love this game. Ok, let’s see,” you said as you surveyed the ingredients laid out before you. “I see flour, sugar, butter and tangerines...are you making a tangerine cake or something?” 

Whatever jealousy or anger he had been feeling all day just instantly disappeared once he was with you. He felt like himself again, all carefree and lighthearted as he chuckled at your guess. “Not quite, Missus. But nice try,” he said as he looked into your eyes with a crooked smile. 

Missus. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and you felt your insides became all warm. You hoped your face didn’t give away your swooning. He's never called you that before and you hoped to God that he would never stop. 

“Ah, my bad,” you laughed embarrassedly. “What are you making then?” 

“I, am making a tangerine tart,” he proudly stated as he grabbed another egg, perfectly cracking it this time. “At the request of the ship’s navigator.” 

A wide grin broke out across your face. “No way!!” you squealed eagerly, causing Sanji to laugh. “I’ve always wanted to try one!”  

The blonde chef nodded. “Yes, she did mention that actually.” After a beat, he added, “I hope you like it.” 

“Of course I will,” you said without hesitation. “I know I haven’t known you for that long, but it seems like everything you make is phenomenal. You’re the best cook I know.” 

Normally, nearly everyone compliments his cooking (except for Zoro) and he never really thought anything of it. He knew was the best cook in the East Blue and someday, the whole world when he found the All Blue. But hearing that compliment from you? How you said it so easily and with such certainty? He felt a funny, warm feeling deep within his chest and when he looked at you, just like how you knew for certain that he was the best chef around, he knew right then that you really were the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. 

So, yeah. Nami was right. He guessed he did have a little crush on you, or ‘like-liked’ you- whatever she was saying.  

“Do you mind if I watch?” 

Your question broke the little staring trance he was in, blinking and tearing his gaze away from you as he tried to refocus on the task before him. He truly had to make sure this was the best tart he’s ever made. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. God, he was probably acting like an excited puppy, but he couldn’t help himself. “Of course you can,” he agreed with a small smile. 

As you pulled up a stool to sit on the opposite side of the counter, Sanji realized something: him cooking in the kitchen with you sitting nearby? That’s something he could get used to and get used to very quickly. 

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

It Was Supposed to Be Normal

Eddie Brock x Reader (feat. Venom)

Warnings: Birthday chaos, sweet!Eddie trying his best, Venom being offended and dramatic, food disasters, possessive/overprotective vibes, lots of heart, Monsterfucking (Venom-assisted), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex (m x f), possession kink undertones, overstimulation, dirty talk, mild degradation ("look at you, needy"), soft aftercare, birthday smut, Eddie being stupid in love, Venom being too involved but somehow perfect about it

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

It all started with a sticky note on the fridge.

> DO NOT RUIN THIS.

>TODAY IS HER BIRTHDAY.

> BE NORMAL.

> NO BITING.

> NO SURPRISE TENTACLES.

> NO EATING ANYONE.

> –E

Venom read it. Out loud. Slowly. Then growled, “I am offended.”

“Good,” Eddie muttered, pulling a cake out of the oven with oven mitts that had cats on them. “You’re not invited.”

“I LIVE HERE.”

“Not tonight, you don’t.”

Eddie had been planning it for weeks.

Not a monster-infested mess. Not an alien-assisted threesome. Just...normal. Sweet. The kind of birthday you’d never had but definitely deserved. He’d booked a table at that Italian place you liked. He’d practiced saying things like “burrata” and “polenta.” He’d even put on a button up shirt. Black. Clean. Tucked in.

And Venom?

Venom had been told—in no uncertain terms—to stay inside. Which went about as well as asking a cat not to knock something off a shelf.

“Do you really think she wants this?” Venom whined in Eddie’s head while he tried to fix his hair in the mirror.

“You think she doesn’t want a normal night for once?”

“I think she likes us when we are ourselves.”

“She likes peace and cake and people not staring while she eats garlic bread.”

“No no she likes tentacles—”

“GOODBYE.”

---

You were already dressed when he picked you up. And you looked… radiant. Just glowing. Simple dress. Warm smile. You even wore that necklace he got you from a street vendor last winter. The one he pretended wasn’t a big deal but nearly passed out paying for. He stood in the doorway like an idiot for five full seconds before remembering how words worked.

“Hey. You, uh. You look wow...incredible fuck I mean--you-you look beautiful, like always..”

You beamed. “You’re pretty wow yourself. Is that a shirt with buttons?”

He smiles prideful before nodding, “I’ve evolved doll.”

---

Dinner started fine. You laughed. You shared a bottle of wine. Eddie made it halfway through an appetizer without sweating.

No one got eaten. No one exploded. The waiter didn’t run away screaming.

For a moment, he actually thought, This is working. I’m doing it. She’s smiling and nothing is on fire.

Then Venom muttered, “You forgot her real cake.”

Eddie froze mid-chew.

“What?”

Venom rumbled, smug. “You told me not to touch it. So I didn’t. I left it in the oven.”

Eddie dropped his fork. You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing!” he squeaked. “Just ugh...hot bite. Not important.”

Venom sighed dramatically. “It was triple fudge with espresso ganache. I sculpted a mini-you on top."

Eddie rolled his eyes, "it looked like shit." Venom gasped even more dramatically, "I AM OFFENDED AGAIN."

Eddie mumbled a 'good' before turning his attention back to you.

The rest of the night was... almost normal.

Until a drunk guy at the bar made a comment about your dress. Eddie tensed. You brushed it off.

Venom did not.

One minute you were heading for the door, the next minute—CRASH.

The guy who hit on you slid across the tile floor, covered in soda and sauce and something definitely not human. You turned slowly. “Eddie.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t do it! I mean, I did, but not technically--” Venom loomed behind him, inky and furious.

“He looked at her.”

“He...he did say ‘mommy,’” Eddie added grimly. Venom snapped his teeth. “We will bite off his entire skull.”

You sighed, half-laughing despite yourself. “It was going so well.”

Eddie cringed, “I know.”

“I was going to kiss you in the parking lot.”

Eddie groaned. “V. What the fuck, man—”

“I WAS DEFENDING HER HONOR.”

You didn’t get dessert at the restaurant. But Eddie carried you home from the car anyway—just because he could. And Venom, pouting, slithered down your arm with something that looked like a singed, slightly molten birthday candle. “I tried.”

“You sure did, bud,” you said, patting his goo gently.

The cake was still in the oven. It had collapsed in the middle like a black hole of chocolate. Eddie nearly cried.

But you ate it straight from the pan while straddling him on the couch. Venom purred with pride. Eddie licked frosting off your finger.

And when you whispered, “This was still the best birthday I’ve ever had,”

Eddie pulled you in, kissed your shoulder, and muttered:“…Next year we’re doing Chuck E. Cheese.”

Venom howled. “I DEMAND TOKENS.”

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

The cake was half-eaten. The wine was gone. The night had spiraled into absolute chaos. And Eddie?

Eddie had you in his lap on the couch, his hands gripping your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he whispered over and over again: “I was trying to be normal…”

You giggled, warm and flushed from the wine and his mouth. “You forgot the part where I liked it.”

“You weren’t supposed to have to like this,” he muttered. “You were supposed to have a three-course dinner and cake that didn’t look like it fell out of a black hole—”

“I liked the black hole.”

Venom’s voice rumbled approvingly from where he stretched slick and lazy across your shoulder like a living scarf. “She likes us.”

Eddie looked half-exasperated, half-dazed, eyes dark with heat. “You like when my parasite ruins the night?”

“I like it when you stop pretending I'd ever want anyone else.”

That did it.

Eddie surged up, kissed you hard, hands cupping your jaw like he wanted to melt into you. His tongue slipped past your lips with a groan, and you moaned right back—arching into his chest as Venom coiled around your waist with a low, vibrating growl.

“You’re ours,” Venom said. “Let us show you.”

You barely remembered being lifted off the couch. Eddie carried you to bed like it was instinct—like his body was on autopilot, chasing your skin, your voice, the way you whispered “please” like it was a prayer.

By the time you hit the sheets, your dress was gone. Tossed somewhere in the chaos. Eddie settled between your thighs, kissing a line down your ribs, your hip, your inner thigh—

“I wanted to make this romantic,” he said, lips brushing where you were already slick. “Wanted candles. Music.”

“You lit me a candle,” you whispered. “And Venom threatened a man. That’s romance to me.” Eddie rolled his eyes, then grinned against your skin. Then—finally—he licked a long, slow stripe through your folds, and your whole body jolted.

“Oh—fuck—”

He groaned into you, tongue working you open, hungry and messy and desperate. His fingers dug into your thighs as you rocked your hips against his mouth. Above you, Venom stretched over your chest—cool, slick tendrils wrapping gently around your wrists, pinning them to the bed without pressure.

“Look at you,” Venom purred. “So needy. So sweet.”

You whimpered as Eddie sucked on your clit, pulling a gasp from your throat.

“Told you,” he muttered, voice muffled, “told you we’d make it up to her.”

“You are still under review,” Venom replied dryly. “But this is a good start.”

You came once just from Eddie’s mouth—crying out his name, hips trembling, thighs clenching around his head. He loved it, moaning into you, dragging it out with slow, savoring licks until you squirmed from the sensitivity.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he rasped, kissing up your stomach. Venom slithered down one thigh, lazy and pleased. “Do it again.” You blinked, dazed. “Again?”

“Yes.”

Eddie grinned. “Don’t tempt us, birthday girl.”

“I—” You tried to catch your breath, but they weren’t waiting. Eddie leaned over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other sliding down to guide his cock against your entrance.

You felt full before he even moved.

“You ready?” he asked, voice hoarse. You nodded. Venom coiled loosely around your neck, almost like a necklace. “She’s always ready for us.”

Eddie fucked you so slow. He wanted to feel everything. Every little sound you made, every flutter of your walls around him, every time you clawed at the sheets like you were about to fall apart. “So good” he whispered against your throat. “You’re so good for me.”

Venom wrapped around your waist, slick tendrils gliding along your hips, your breasts, your throat. Not squeezing. Just reminding you—they were everywhere. Surrounding you. Worshipping you.

Eddie’s thrusts started to get rougher. Venom tightened just enough to make you gasp. “You like it when we claim you,” Venom growled.

“Yes—yes, I—fuck—Eddie!”

Eddie groaned as you clenched around him, as your moans turned to cries. “That’s it, sweetheart. You gonna come for me again?” You nodded desperately. “Please, Eddie, please—”

Venom purred. “Come on, pretty girl. Show us how much you love*being ours.”

You shattered. Head thrown back. Body writhing. Voice breaking on their names.

Eddie came right after—deep inside you with a low growl, forehead pressed to yours, hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go. Venom eased away, but not completely—his tendrils still brushing your sides, your thighs, your chest in slow, soothing waves.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “You are perfect.”

You were wrecked. Sweaty. Shaking. Dripping with their praise and their love and your own high, stretched out in Eddie’s arms with Venom curled protectively around you both.

Eddie kissed your hair, your jaw, and your temple. “Next year,” he whispered, “we’re gonna try the candles again. And the restaurant. And the actual cake.” You smiled sleepily against his chest. “Next year I want this again.” Venom’s voice rumbled, smug. “We told you.”

Eddie groaned. “God, he’s never gonna let this go.”

You kissed the edge of Eddie’s jaw. “Happy birthday to me.” He pulled you close. Venom sighed, purring. "Everyday is yours baby."

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

[kabsey]

Why am I suddenly obsessed with the idea of a forgiven Illario being gravely wounded in the last battle?

Like he stumbles his way back to where the Crows have gathered, covered in blood and grime and gore, and he wants to cry with relief when Teia rushes to his side. She has to hold up almost all of his weight as she leads him to one of the few empty cots left in their field hospital. And then she leaves him and he wants to cry again, near delirious with pain and blood loss and an all-consuming dread that his end is waiting, just out of sight, to swallow him whole.

The minutes trickle by, and as he lies there, surrounded by the moans of the other dying and gasping for breath that can barely squeeze through the agony, he starts to think that maybe this was how it was always meant to happen. That maybe he was destined to die alone and unmourned, just another body on a mass pyre. When he begins to fade in and out of consciousness, he's grateful because he's no longer aware of every second counting down until his last.

In one brief flicker, he hears voices above him, muffled and far away as if he's underwater.

"—wasn't like this when I left him, I swear, Lucanis."

"Get a healer. Now."

-------

In the next, he's fairly sure he's still dreaming because he's wrapped in a blanket and curled in a wheelbarrow of all things being pushed by a qunari of all people.

-------

When he wakes again, he barely notices because the room he's in is so dark. He's lying on a soft bed, and a black silhouette watches him from the shadows just outside the circle of banked firelight.

"Lucanis?" he croaks. Every inch of his skin feels soaked through with cold sweat, but his throat is so, so dry.

The silhouette leans forward to reveal a pointed beard and a pointed gaze that had always seemed to accuse him, even before he had committed any of his crimes.

Illario sighs, too tired now to feel the panic of before. "Here to... finish me off?"

He's already drifting when Viago answers.

"If I were here to kill you, you wouldn't have woken up."

-------

The next time he opens his eyes, pale grey light fills the room, filtered through gauzy curtains. Both he and the world feel more solid. He's not in his own suite in the villa but a smaller room in the guest wing. And the man sitting at his bedside is, as ever, the person he most and least wants to see in the world.

"You're going to live," Lucanis states, and his voice and his expression hold no clue as to how he feels about that.

A huff of wry laughter escapes Illario. "My apologies."

That prompts the tiniest of furrows in his cousin's brow. "Why were you there? No one expected you." The furrow deepens. "Were you even fighting for our side?"

The jibe should sting, but Illario feels as if all of the aches and weariness from every moment of his life have settled deep into his bones. "I killed Venatori. Even a few darkspawn."

"So you betrayed your allies again?" Lucanis sighs. His exhaustion is clear in the slump of his shoulders and the circles beneath his eyes.

"The Venatori were never my allies."

Lucanis straightens at that, showing a little of the fire that Illario had always wished he would. "You were going to let them into Trevsio."

"I wasn't going to let them stay. After they pushed out the Antaam and protected us from the gods, we could have gotten rid of them."

"And the blood magic?" Lucanis accused.

"I needed to be able to defend myself."

"From me?" his cousin demanded, a spark of violet flickering in his eyes. "Or your Venatori lover?"

Illario lets his eyes fall closed. "She was just a tool. They were all just tools."

"That's all you see, isn't it? You look at the world, and instead of people, you see only tools to be used."

"Of course," Illario agrees. He opens his eyes and almost laughs to see the look of surprise on Lucanis's face. "Just as we were taught, no? Even we were only tools to Caterina."

He settles deeper into the pillows, the pull of sleep tugging his eyelids down again. "But maybe being the favorite tool was almost like being human."

For a few long moments, only the crackling in the fireplace answers him. He expects to hear the creak of the chair and Lucanis's fading footsteps at any moment.

Instead he hears a quiet murmur. "It wasn't."

The low tone is a hook in Illario's heart. Even decades later, he can hear the echoes of shared secrets in the nights after hard days, when he would sneak into Lucanis's room and curl up on his floor so they could commiserate in their mutual misery. He struggles to breathe around the tears that prick his eyelids and tighten his throat, the effort just as wrenching as trying to breathe through the pain of his wound.

And he thinks then that he has not learned his lesson, that maybe he will never learn his lesson. Because if some power alighted in that room and promised to send him back to those years, even if it meant that Thedas would suffer blight and war and demons and elvhen gods all over again with no guarantee of a repeated victory...

He wouldn't hesitate for a moment.

[lumosflairr]

𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

summary: Ned surprises you and peter by signing you two up for a couples costume competition.

warnings: use of y/n [like 3-4 times]

word count: 3.5k

“I just thought it would be something cute and romantic for you two to do!”

Peter stared blankly across the cafeteria table, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, juice box clutched in a death grip.

“Couples costumes, Ned? Are you kidding me?”

Ned crossed his arms with a shrug, looking completely unbothered by Peter’s slow descent into panic. “It’s Halloween. You’re dating. There’s a contest. You’re welcome.”

Peter leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face like he was trying to disappear. “You signed us up without asking.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind!” Ned defended, pushing his tray across the cafeteria table. “Y/N won’t. She’ll love it. And you—” he pointed a finger dramatically, “are whipped.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue, closed it, then muttered, “That’s not the point…”

“Oh my God,” MJ deadpanned from across the table, not even looking up from her book. “You’ve been carrying her books to chemistry for two weeks straight, and you flinch when she looks at you like she might ask for a favor. You’re so whipped.”

“I—” Peter blinked. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Exactly,” Ned said proudly. “So just let her pick the costume, show up, and win the contest. Easy.”

Peter groaned and let his head fall to the table with a thud. “She’s gonna pick something ridiculous. I can feel it. I’m gonna end up in glitter tights or a corset or something.”

“Y’know,” MJ added with zero emotion, “the drama club has a full Shakespearean outfit that would fit you. Codpiece and all.”

Peter gave her an amused look and groaned. His hands ran down his face when suddenly his eyes met yours. You weaved through scattered tables as you made your way to his. You were wearing his favorite top of yours- a nice red long sleve and a pair of light washed jeans.

You plopped your tray down beside MJ, sitting directly in-front of peter and sat.

“Hey guys.” You greeted the three of them cheerfully, adjusting yourself in your seat. You looked at peter again, his face resting on his hands with his cheeks a lighter shade than usual.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“He’s being dramatic.” MJ spoke, her tone flat and honest.

“I am not—” Peter started, but Ned cut in with a grin way too smug for comfort.

“I may have… sort of… signed you guys up for the Halloween couples costume contest,” Ned blurted, clearly proud of himself.

Peter let out another loud groan, slumping further in his seat.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, you what?”

Ned raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, but hear me out! There’s a prize, and you two are literally the perfect couple for it. Everyone’s gonna vote for you anyway.”

You blinked, absorbing the news—and then your face lit up. “That’s actually so cute! I love that idea!”

“I knew you would! At least someone appreciates my favor.” Ned targetted his tone towards Peter as he raised his eyebrows at Peter and shot him a glare.

“Favor? Ned, I’m going to become a walking target at school!” Peter chimed in, his face full of embarrassment as he spiraled.

“I’m gonna end up looking like a total idiot. I’m gonna walk in and everyone’s gonna laugh and take pictures and it’s gonna end up on Flash’s story—”

“You’re already on his story like once a week, Penis Parker.” MJ muttered, not helping.

You laughed and grabbed peter’s hand, squeezing it in your own. “Pete, it’s gonna adorable. Come on, we’ve never done anything cheesy together like this and now we get to dress up and totally dominate the competition. Plus, you’ll have me with you. Flash can’t clown you when he doesn’t have a girlfriend of his own to do things like this with anyways.”

Peter sighed and squeezed your hand in return.. “Please please please dont put me in something glittery or anything that involves spandex. Or a tail. Or ears.”

You smirked at him. “No promises.”

“Y/N, I mean it!” Peter begged, eyes wide as he gave you a dramatic pout.

You let out a small chuckle at his reaction. “I’m joking, Pete. I already have a few ideas that dont involve glitter or spandex.”

Peter sighed at your comment, smiling at you. Suddenly, he then shot you another look.

“Or ears? Or tails?”

You smirked at him. “wellll….”

“Y/N!!”

The house was quieter than usual. Your parents were out for the evening, and your aunt—who had stayed for a while to help with your sewing—had just left after giving you a proud hug and reminding you to “press the seams before he tries it on.”

Your room was warm with golden light, the late afternoon sun spilling in through the window. The final touches of the costumes were hanging behind your closet door in a long black garment bag. You kept glancing at it, nerves and excitement mixing in your chest.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Peter.

“I’m Outside ❤️”

You smiled at the message and ran downstairs, making your way to the front door to open it. When you opened the front door, Peter was standing there in his hoodie and jeans, hands in his pockets, biting back a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, looking at you like you were the only person on the planet.

“Hi,” you replied, stepping aside. “Come in, skywalker.”

Peter gave a mock salute and walked inside, pulling off his hoodie as he shut the door. You both made your way upstairs as he glanced around. “It’s weird seeing your house this quiet.”

“They cleared out for us,” you joked, nudging him with your shoulder as you both made your way to your room.

The moment your door closed behind him, Peter turned to face you—and you barely had time to say anything before he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a kiss.

It was soft at first, slow and familiar, his lips brushing yours like he wasn’t in any hurry to let go. His hands settled lightly at your sides, and he tilted his head slightly as he deepened it, smiling just a little against your mouth.

When you pulled back, he looked dazed. “Hi again.”

You laughed, brushing your nose against his. “You’re such a sap.”

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, eyes locked on yours like he was already head-over-heels and still falling. “You kiss like you’re trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm, and stepped back toward your desk. “Alright, Romeo. Ready to see what we’re wearing?”

Peter blinked and let out and audible gulp, which you laughed at.

“It’s not even bad, Pete. You’ll love it I promise.”

“I hope so..” He mumbled under his breathe as you went to grab the bag.

“Sit down and close your eyes.”

Peter raised both eyebrows. “You’re not even going to warn me first?”

You gave him a look.

With an exaggerated groan, he flopped onto the edge of your bed. “Fine. But if this ends with me in anything with ears, we’re breaking up.”

“You love me to much and you know it. Now hush.”

Peter huffed but obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut.

You grabbed the hangers from the closet, carefully sliding the bag off, your heart fluttering a little as you walked back over.

“Okay,” you said, smile tugging at your lips. “Open.”

Peter cracked one eye open, then both—and his mouth slowly dropped open.

Hanging in front of him were two perfectly handmade Star Wars costumes: one, a detailed Jedi tunic complete with wraps, a faux leather belt, dark robe, and boots. The other, a dreamy and beautifully made version of Padmé Amidala’s outfit—white and silver with flowing fabric and subtle shimmer.

Peter stared in stunned silence. “Is that - Anakin and Padmé?”

You nodded. “Told you no glitter.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between the costumes and you, his heart beating out of his chest. “You made these?”

“Well… not all on my own. My aunt helped sew everything together, but I did the design. I found the belt pieces online, did the stitching for the wraps, and made a lightsaber clip for your belt. I figured you’d like it more than something generic.”

Peter blinked, still looking completely awe-struck. “You made me a Jedi. You made us Anakin and Padmé.”

You smiled. “I know how much you love Star Wars. Thought I’d give you a reason to show it off in public without being embarrassed.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Then finally stepped forward, gently set the costume down on your desk… and kissed you.

It was less soft this time—more full of feeling, like he was trying to say thank you without words. When he pulled back, he just looked at you, eyes full of warmth.

“I love it,” he said softly. “I love you.”

You smiled up at him, heart full. “Even without glitter?”

“Especially without glitter,” he teased, pressing his forehead against yours. “Though… I’d wear anything if you made it for me.”

You smirked. “Even ears and a tail?”

Peter playfully rolled his eyes. “You had to ruin the moment.”

You laughed at his comment as he held his Anakin costume in front of himself and faced towards the mirror. “I’m gonna look so cool,” he muttered, grinning.

You walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss to his neck as you let out a whisper. “You always do.”

The gym at Midtown was barely recognizable.

Orange and purple string lights draped the ceiling, fake cobwebs clung to the corners, and jack-o’-lanterns with glowing LED eyes lined the stage. The school had actually tried this year—there was a fog machine going wild in the corner, a photo booth decorated like a graveyard, and the DJ was mixing in spooky sound effects with throwback hits that somehow made it all work.

You and Peter hovered just outside the gym doors, each holding your costume bags, dressed head to toe but waiting for your moment to step in. Your heart thumped with anticipation, but Peter looked like he was about to short-circuit from nerves.

“You ready?” you asked, adjusting your belt and brushing invisible lint from your Padmé costume.

Peter glanced at your outfit—then did a double take. “You look… amazing,” he mumbled, a little breathless.

You smiled. “Thanks, Skywalker.”

Peter peered into the gym, already overwhelmed by the flashing lights and fog machine going full throttle. “Okay, is the fog supposed to smell like feet?”

You snorted. “That’s just the football team.”

Peter grimaced. “Truly terrifying. Happy Halloween to me.”

The second you stepped through the gym doors, it was like the volume doubled. Heads turned immediately—some students actually stopped dancing to watch you walk in. One of the juniors by the snack table straight up pointed and shouted:

“Yo! That’s Anakin and Padmé! That’s so sick!”

A ripple of chatter followed. People pulled out their phones, snapping pics, complimenting your detail work, and asking if you had your costumes commissioned.

You and Peter exchanged a look, eyes wide, but you both smiled—because yeah, this was a moment.

Ned jogged over, practically bouncing in his homemade elf costume (complete with a duct-tape sword), and MJ followed behind in a black hoodie that said “this is my costume” in plain white letters.

“I told you guys,” Ned said, eyes wide as he looked you both over. “You look insane. This is, like, fan film level.”

MJ gave a small nod. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You don’t look completely ridiculous.”

Peter turned to you, smiling like he was just now letting himself enjoy the attention. “This is actually kinda awesome.”

“Told you,” you said, nudging him.

“Wow. Someone clearly had way too much free time.”

Peter rolled his eyes and turned around to see Flash. He swaggered over in a half-baked pirate costume—plastic sword, fake gold chain, and eyeliner that looked like he gave up halfway through. His shirt was untucked, and his bandana was slipping off his head like even it didn’t want to be part of this look.

You shot him a dirty look. “Good evening to you too, Captain Crunch.”

Flash scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying, everyone’s acting like you two walked off a movie set. It’s not that impressive.”

Peter poked his tongue in the side of his cheek, a smirk growing on his face with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know, Flash,” he said coolly, adjusting the belt on his tunic with just enough flair to make it look better than it had any right to. “I don’t see your girlfriend making you a custom costume to match yours…”

He paused, let it hang in the air—just long enough to sting.

“…Oh wait. You don’t have one.”

Ned made a quiet explosion sound with his mouth. “Boom.”

MJ raised her cup and raised her eyebrows while you tried not to burst into laughter at Peter’s comment and sudden boldness.

Flash opened his mouth, clearly scrambling for something to say—then closed it again. His jaw flexed, but he just sniffed and muttered, “Whatever,” before turning on his heel and disappearing into the fog machine haze.

Peter turned back to you like nothing had happened. “That was kind of satisfying.”

You grinned. “Dangerously polite Peter might be my favorite version.”

He smirked. “Use your powers for good, not petty.”

“Can’t relate.”

The rest of the night passed in a flurry of dancing, compliments, and awkward slow songs. You and Peter took a few photos in the graveyard-themed photo booth—one serious, one funny, and one where Peter kissed your cheek and you were definitely blushing.

At one point, Peter leaned in and said softly, “I don’t know how you pulled this off, but this is hands-down my favorite Halloween ever.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. “That was the plan.”

The DJ paused the music and tapped the microphone, his voice cutting through the chatter and dim lighting. “Alright, everyone! It’s time to find out who’s taking home the prize for Midtown’s 2025 Halloween Costume Contest!”

A drumroll began to play over the speakers, building tension as eyes turned toward the stage and whispers filled the room.

After what felt like forever, the DJ grinned and announced clearly, “And the winners, by unanimous vote… Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala!”

Cheers erupted instantly as you and Peter shared a stunned look.

Peter looked at you, wide-eyed. “Wait—we won?!”

“Obviously,” you laughed, dragging him toward the stage by the hand. You were handed a hilariously cheap trophy, a pair of $25 gift cards, and—maybe best of all—eternal bragging rights.

Off to the side, you caught a glimpse of Flash near the punch table. He watched you both with an unreadable expression, then muttered something to the guy next to him. You couldn’t hear it clearly, but it sounded like:

“…Okay. It was kinda cool.”

The party came to an end after what felt like only seconds. The gym had finally emptied out, the music cut off mid–Monster Mash, and the fog machine was put out of its misery. You and Peter stepped outside into the cool night air, the soft buzz of leftover laughter and costume rustling fading behind you.

Ned and MJ trailed close behind. “Well,” MJ said flatly, arms crossed over her hoodie, “that was loud, overcrowded, and mildly tolerable.”

“I had a great time,” Ned beamed, adjusting his cape. “I mean, we witnessed history. You guys crushed it. Flash is probably still crying into his pirate wig.”

You laughed. Peter grinned.

“You guys heading out?” you asked.

MJ nodded. “Ned’s mom’s picking us up. She made apple cider and, quote, ‘wants the full gossip.’ So that should be a ride.”

“Tell her we say hi,” Peter said.

“And thank her for raising a man brave enough to wear elf ears in public,” you added.

Ned held up two fingers in a peace sign. “Would wear them again.”

After a round of quick hugs, MJ and Ned waved and crossed the lot, disappearing into the glow of approaching headlights. You and Peter were left standing near the curb, bathed in the soft orange halo of a streetlamp, the air quiet and cool now that the crowd had gone.

Peter shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robe and let out a breath, the kind that meant he didn’t want the night to end yet.

“So…” you said, rocking slightly on your heels. “Did we win Halloween?”

Peter looked at you for a long moment. “Yeah. But not because of the costume.”

You tilted your head. “No?”

He took a small step closer, smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It was you. You made it the best night. I mean, the lightsaber helps—but still.”

You felt your cheeks flush under the glow of the streetlight. “You’re just saying that because I kissed you in front of the entire junior and senior class.”

“I’m saying that because you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said without hesitation, then immediately looked down like the words had slipped out faster than intended. “And also the coolest. And weirdest. In a good way. Obviously.”

Your breath caught in your throat, smile threatening to break out fully.

Before you could say anything, Peter leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t rushed, or showy, or dipped in leftover party adrenaline—it was warm and soft, sweet and sure. The kind of kiss that said thank you for tonight, and I like you more than I know how to say, and maybe even this could be it. This could be everything.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling like he couldn’t help it.

“I love you, like… way more than I should be allowed to.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb along the edge of his jaw. “That’s okay. I think you’ve earned it.”

A car horn gave a soft beep beep nearby, and you both turned to see Aunt May pulling up to the curb, waving from behind the wheel.

Peter groaned under his breath. “Timing, as always.”

You both grabbed your bags and costume pieces, heading toward the car.

As Peter opened the door for you, he leaned in close and whispered, “Next year, I’m picking the costumes. Just so you know.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirked. “That’ll be the day.”

May raised an eyebrow as you both climbed in. “So… who’s ready to tell me why my nephew looks like an Obi-Wan?”

Peter grinned. “Long story. But we won.”

May smiled. “That’s my boy.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, Peter’s hand found yours again, quiet and steady, and you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you still glowing with the kind of magic only a perfect night can leave behind.

[jobean12-blog]

Burn for You

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Even though you know Marcus would protect you with his very last breath you still want to learn to defend yourself but what will your husband say when you ask him to teach you?

Author's Note: Just another little story in our happy world where everyone is on the same side and friends haha. This is a stand alone story that I couldn't resist after seeing the new snippets from the movie- and then Pedro himself posts the sword gif and I died all over again. How dare he? It's so hot🔥🫠Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty and tense, he's always soft and perfect, semi public sex, smut, they just can't get enough of each other.

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The gold trimmed linen falls over his bare skin, and you smooth your hands down his chest to straighten it.

“When are you going to teach me how to wield a sword General?”

You reach for the fascia, gently placing it over his leg before starting to secure it. When his silence drags on you look up from your kneeling position.

“Are you trying to think of some filthy thing to say right now?” you tease. “I am on my knees.”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a mischievous smirk.

“If I didn’t know how much you loved being in that position, I might have something more to say…”

“But…” you finish for him as you slowly slide up his body and meet his eyes.

“Your question has surprised me.”

You take his cuirass and press it to his chest with more force than is necessary.

“And why is that husband?” you ask through clenched teeth.

As you begin to tug on the leather strings at his sides he grabs both your wrists, grasping them in one hand and pulling you against his chest, while the fingers of his other press under your chin and hold your gaze to his.

“You think I do not believe you capable?” he asks with his brows drawn in.

“Why else would you not teach me?” you huff.

“Like my heart, body and soul, you have my sword until my last breath and forever after,” he whispers against your lips.

Your expression softens and you press your fingertips to his jaw, delicately tracing the scar just above the dark hair that lines his cheek.

“I know Marcus…”

“But…” he says, echoing your earlier sentiment.

“I wish to learn. I am strong. And I want to be able to defend myself.”

He remains quiet still, releasing your wrists and smoothing his calloused fingers along the curve of your shoulder.

“I could ask Lucius instead…” you start to muse.

“You will not,” he growls.

“He may not have the same reservations you have…whatever they may be.”

Your tone is cheeky as you press yourself closer to him, dancing your fingers down his side to give the leather straps of his cuirass a sharp tug.

He grunts lightly before his lips turn up into a smile.

“As you wish my love,” he murmurs. “I will teach you to wield a weapon.”

“Excellent,” you whisper, loosening your grip and reaching for the Manica to adorn his forearms.

He stops you with a firm hand and you raise a brow.

“On one condition…”

“And what is that?” you ask.

“You will train with me and only me. No other will come near you, touch you.”

“Of course,” you say with a lift of your chin. “Only you.”

He dips his head, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he presses you against his body.

“How much time do we have?” he mumbles, kissing you, chaste and soft.

He pulls back, licks his lips, and moves forward again, moaning softly against your mouth.

“Marcus,” you chide but it’s lacking vigor, coming out breathier and desperate.

When his hips rock you feel him, hard and ready and it’s like someone lights a match inside your chest and you curl your fingers into the edges of his cuirass and push him back toward the wall.

The draped fabric at your waist falls open and you gasp as cool air finds your skin where you’re wet and aching.

His roughened palm slides down your stomach and his fingers slip between your legs.

“Want to taste this,” he whispers, dragging the tip of his fingers in and out.

“Ah General Acacius. So good of you to grace us with your presence,” Lucius jokes, his eyes twinkling.

The other men stifle their laughter, clearing throats and shuffling feet when Marcus glares at them menacingly.

You step out from behind Marcus and smile at Lucius, whose surprised expression quickly transforms into one of mischief.

“Do we have a new trainee today General?” Lucius asks with a smirk.

Marcus ignores him and deftly twirls the sword between his fingers as he walks along the row of gladiators.

“My wife…, he begins, “wishes to learn how to fight.”

You can see that the men are trying to restrain their shock, and you meet each of their gazes, holding your head high and your shoulders poised.

“You will not touch her or even come near her,” he continues. “She will train with me and only me.”

Marcus turns his covetous eyes to you, dragging them over every inch of your skin that glistens under the warm sun.

With a hard swallow he gets into position and instructs the men on what to practice, giving Lucius control of the group so he can work with you.

“That will keep them busy for now,” he says quietly as he moves toward you, circling.

He stops behind you, pressing his chest to your back and slowly sliding his hand down from your shoulder to your wrist. Despite the heat, goosebumps crawl along your skin, and you feel his smile at your neck.

“Focus my beloved,” he murmurs. “You will not win any fights if you are distracted.”

The urge to throw your elbow back and into his side is strong but you refrain and strengthen your wrist.

He places the sword in your hand and maneuvers your fingers into the right position, keeping his hand over yours as he shows you the proper grip.

Every word of command is whispered into your ear and every touch of his hand is both soft and firm. Even with his impressive size and strength, he moves lithely, easily disarming you at every turn.

It frustrates you, motivates you but more than anything, and to your utter exasperation, it arouses you.

“Marcus.” You call his name while in a particularly precarious position and he quickly stands and takes you with him, his gaze concerned as it sweeps over your body.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“No,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

He waits for you to elaborate and you step closer. “Perhaps you should work with the men now. I think Lucius bores them.”

His lips tilt upward at your teasing, but he continues to study you carefully.

“Do you need a break then?”

“Perhaps I can work on my stance with Lucius,” you suggest.

His eyes narrow. “We made a deal.”

“I know,” you tell him with a quiet sigh.

Then with resignation you throw back your shoulders and get into position. “I’m ready to continue.”

His body heat at your back sends another wave of tension through your body and when his calloused fingertips ghost along your thigh to fix its position you have to fight back a gasp.

“Relax your muscles,” he says as he presses on your shoulders and lower back.

You let out a slow exhale and try to focus on his direction instead of his touch, but the way his voice is low and deep in your ear drags you right back to your lascivious thoughts.

When he’s satisfied with your positioning he moves in front of you, twirling his sword tauntingly and though his forearms are hidden under the armor adorning his wrists you know the muscles flex and shift enticingly.

He beckons to you, and you advance, remembering the foot work well and making good use of your sword.

But before you can make any real progress he has you on your back and beneath him, the sandy dirt rising and floating around your head as you stare up into his face.

“You are doing well,” he assures you, sensing your frustration. “Remember, it is only your first day.”

Sweat coats his brow and you watch a droplet roll down his temple and along the line of his beard. It settles on his upper lip and the desire to lean up and kiss him is overwhelming. His scent surrounds you, sweat and leather, and his touch burns.

“Marcus,” you breathe out.

“My love,” he answers, pushing up and offering you a hand.

You crash into his chest, your eyes dropping to his mouth and your lips parting. “I need you.”

It takes him only a split second to realize the meaning of your words and his head dips to your ear, his growl full of promise.

“Do you need me to fill you my love?”

You barely get your words of affirmation out when he grabs your hand and pulls you away from the training circle.

“Lucius, you can finish off the training for today. I have to see…to my wife.”

Your quarters are too far away, and you tell him so, letting him lead you to an underground alcove in the basilica nearby.

He kisses you until your back hits the cold stone wall and you can feel every inch of armor and cloth that separates your bodies.

His hands grip your face, thumbs pressing urgently into your skin as he kisses you until you’re lightheaded.

Few rays of sunlight pierce the recesses below and you’re bathed in a soft darkness, hidden, but with the sounds of the world going on right above you.

It reminds you that there are other people on this Earth beyond his kisses, his frantic hands, and the way he can’t seem to get you close enough.

Your armor becomes untied, and you reach under his, tugging at whatever you can find to loosen it. Cloth and linen floats to your feet and his fingers skim the curve of your waist, dipping between your legs.

“Fingers Marcus,” you gasp.

He swears, two fingers sliding deep.

Your hips rock into his hand and you hold onto his broad shoulders, on the edge of something that starts in your stomach and slips up along your spine.

You cry out, too loud and breathing so heavy you might pass out.

“I’m so close Marcus,” you whisper. “I want you inside me.”

His eyes lift from between your legs, and you take him in; messy curls, fallen over his damp forehead and sticking to it, his body shining with a light sheen of sweat and dust clinging to his skin.

You almost come at the sight of him. He feels you tighten around his fingers and pulls them free with another curse.

His knee parts your legs and you feel the head of his cock as it slides through you and you’re so wet that with just the smallest push forward he starts to slip inside.

With a grunt, he tucks his head into your neck, takes deep, steadying breaths.

“I need a moment,” he murmurs and holds your hips still.

He straightens, reaching a hand over your shoulder to brace it on the stone wall.

“You feel too good,” he whispers, pulling out and pushing back in slowly. “Too perfect.”

He builds a rhythm, hips rocking against yours, the sound of his armor thudding into yours as he fucks you.

His hand reaches up, holds your face as his thumb traces your lips, the taste of you lingering on his fingers.

“I want to watch you come,” he says, dark eyes moving across your face.

You wrap your arms around his neck, the muscles strained and tight with his restraint, pulling him harder to you.

“Say it,” he growls.

“I want it harder.”

His lips brush yours and he nibbles the lower one, tugging and then soothing with his tongue.

“And…?” he asks, knowing there’s more you want to say. More that you need.

“I want someone to hear us. I want them to know how good you feel.”

He grunts and grips your waist tightly before he starts slamming hard and slick into you.

Voices echo above, the sounds of feet and horse hooves growing louder.

“More Marcus,” you cry out.

You feel so full and stretched and the tight feeling in your stomach grows warmer and hotter until your head falls back against the stone, and you moan out his name as you come.

He follows right after, his movements becoming jagged and frantic before finally stilling with a muffled groan into your skin.

You lean into him, catching your breath and letting your fingers wander over the dips and curves of muscle in his back.

He lifts his head and immediately searches for your mouth, sealing his lips to yours.

When he pulls back his eyes are ablaze, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“What?” you ask, trembling when his fingertips skim along your collarbone, strong but gentle.

They ghost higher, to the hollow of your throat where your pulse beats wildly still, before closing lightly around your neck.

Your breath hitches.

“Was it the fighting that aroused you so?” he asks, pressing his thumb under your chin while he still holds your neck. “Or…?”

You swallow and lick your lips.

“You know what it was General,” you whisper.

“I want to hear you say it.”

He’s still inside you and he starts to thicken, the throb making your eyelashes flutter along your cheeks.

“You, General. It is you. Always you that fills me with an unquenchable need.”

“Then it is a good thing my hunger for you will never be sated,” he whispers as he begins to slowly rock his hips.