#and the best thing i. as a fan and not a friend. can do is hope they learn abt their mistakes rather than hiding them or encouraging them

[smoked-salmon-official]

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

"EVERY Transformers 2024 Studio Series RANKED! SS86, TF ONE, GAMER EDITION & MORE!" (by PrimeVsPrime on Youtube)

The Best Homemade Bread Recipe: No Bread Maker? No Problem (making bread rn)

Pin page (pinterest)

my gmail inbox

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

Yes.

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

Confused, out of place, but overall content despite it.

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

My house. Three stories. If you've been to any American suburban neighborhood you know what it looks like.

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

No and I intend it to stay that way.

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

No. I have used my mental illness to get some benefits that I overall needed but did not actually relate to said mental illness. I would say i regret that now.

7. Do you have any enemies?

There are people I really do dislike. But I wouldn't consider them enemies.

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

Yes.

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

There isn't an item. But there are plenty of things online (Tumblr account, Ao3, etc) that I would never let anyone I know in my real life touch. But people online are perfectly allowed to view them.

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

Drawing. I just draw what I see and that's genuinely it. I use references for everything and don't really stylize anything.

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

The smell of chlorine.

12. Are you a Virgin?  

I'm an asexual minor if that helps.

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

Nah.

14. Introvert or extrovert?

Both. I don't really think you can sort people into boxes so neatly like that.

15. What is the most used application on your device?

I don't know what application means, but probably google chrome.

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

Thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands. I read some at least once every three days and it's been that way for 4-5 years.

17. Worst Fears?

Being alone (physically and emotionally). Otherwise, pregnancy, needles, hospitals, and anything else medical.

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

Letting things ruin themselves with my former best friend.

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

I've told many lies, but none of them with any sort of big impact. I can't say.

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

Yeah. I make mistakes, but I rarely go back on my word.

“I have nothing to hide” Asks

(For those daring enough to reblog)

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

7. Do you have any enemies?

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

12. Are you a Virgin?  

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

14. Introvert or extrovert?

15. What is the most used application on your device?

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

17. Worst Fears?

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Javelin

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: You and Ona are each other's homes

The first time you met Ona, she kicked you in the face with a football.

In revenge, you threw it straight back at her and she accidentally lost a tooth from the impact.

You'd been best friends ever since then and your parents could barely keep the pair of you separated.

And as with all things like that, a relationship was naturally the next step.

Fumbles in the back rooms of the family home, making out in your room during family reunions, a kiss after Ona scores in an important match.

And all of those soft, teenage fumbles transformed into something much more beautiful.

You'd followed her to Manchester when she left Spain.

It had taken a lot, uprooting your whole life and moving to a different country whose language you hadn't paid much attention to in school.

Ona helped though.

Ona always helped.

That had always been the case.

Ona helped you and you helped her.

Your training never really went as long as hers. You weren't away from home as often as Ona was. Throwing a javelin wasn't quite as physically draining as football was so you were able to cook dinner and clean up and go to almost all of her matches to support her.

"That smells good."

Arms close around your waist gently and a head rests between your shoulder blades.

"Taste," You say, bringing a spoon up to Ona's lips straight from the pot," Good? Too salty? Not salty enough?"

"Perfect," Ona says," Perfect like always. You spoil me."

"You deserve to be spoiled."

Ona giggles a little, a soft kiss being pressed against your neck as she moves away. "I'll grab the plates."

You make a home in Manchester together before Barcelona come knocking and you're more than willing to return to Spain again.

You get another coaching team. You train in the heat.

You and Ona discuss a dog but nothing has come of it just yet. You bask in each other's company. You return to family reunions and seeing Ona's family on the weekend right until the summer.

The run up to the Olympics is brutal.

You're both tired and drained but it's a dream to represent Spain on a stage like that, to show people around the world just what you can do.

People watch events that they don't usually watch and if you can even convert one person into a javelin fan then it'll be an Olympics well spent.

You have your goals for this Olympics and Ona has hers.

And you hate seeing that her goals will be left unfinished.

"Hey..." You say gently as she approaches you at the barrier," I'm sorry."

You can see her putting on a brave face. You know it's fake.

You lean over and gently draw her closer.

Spain hadn't made it to the final. They'd lost the bronze medal.

Ona had lost the bronze medal.

Your own gold medal for javelin feels like a weight in your bag, heavy and you wish you could throw it in the river so Ona wouldn't be able to see it.

But you know that she knows you won it.

She'd sent a very long rambling text before setting up an accompanying phone call where she declared her love for you and told you how proud she was and how she couldn't wait to see your medal.

Now though, you don't want her to see it.

You don't want her to see it because you know she'll be reminded of what she's just lost and you can't do that to her.

You won't do that to her.

You refuse to do that to her.

So you hold Ona against you now as she rests her head in your shoulder and you play with the soft baby hairs that rest on the back of her neck.

"We've got a break now," You whisper to her, voice quiet and soft and everything she needs to hear right now," We'll go somewhere hot. With a beach. We'll relax and have some fun before the season starts again. Relax and reset."

"I wanted to win you a medal," Ona chokes out against your skin," I know you've already got one but-But I wanted to get you another one."

"I don't need another one," You assure her," I've got you. That's enough for me."

[takes1]

oh my lord i love your writing it literally has me geeked every time. any possibility you write more for my man asahi? i’ll take anything you have to offer but i can’t stop thinking about something similar in premise to the wrestling where, instead, it’s 7 minutes in heaven? possible details about the closet they’re in being too small for him, perhaps~ because what asahi fan doesn’t appreciate some size difference goodness

asahi azumane x reader w/ size kink

i literally said, out loud, "ohhh!!!" and started writing it as soon as i saw this ask - you have a gift for ideas my love. thank you for sending this in!!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / 7 min. in heaven / heavy size kink / heavy claustrophilia / soft top!asahi / mutual?crushing / manhandling / thigh riding / making out / hickeys and marking / semi PDA / rough but sweet!asahi / 2.3k words / oh lord another maybe? two parter

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Well, it's not a closet per se," Suga cocked his head at the half-done, dusty, crawl space the group chose for this game, "But it'll do, right?"

Asahi glanced down at you and didn't stop. You were taken by a big wave of chills, crossed your arms, looked away, then back up-- and he was still looking down at you. Any hope of subtlety was over.

He nodded, despite being the most effected by the size problem of this unfortunate reality.

"Well, there's nothing in it."

A fair point. The other closets were filled with closet-like things. Towels, cleaning supplies, pantry items, tools. The group, consisting of mixed-up members of Karasuno volleyball teams, had a fun treasure hunt with that stuff, but this was what you were after. A closet to play your thirsty game in.

'Unfortunate' was just one mode of perception. Less room meant more contact, but nobody was saying that aloud.

"Can you even fit in here, dude?" Nishinoya clambered out with relative ease, albeit sideways.

Every girl except you looked away as Asahi tried, embarrassed at the way the boards creaked, how he wouldn't be able to enter normally because his shoulders were too wide for the space. He had to bend at the waist because he was far too tall. You scanned the empty space in front of him, warm and tingly.

There was some room! You could fit there and you would, maybe, die trying.

Ever since Daichi retired to his room for the night, nobody had taken up the burdensome mantle of responsibility. His dad-like severity had a strong influence on the types of activities that were 'allowed' to happen.

7 Minutes in Heaven would have never been brought up with him present.

As long as the Karasuno teams were quiet enough to not wake him, you could carry on.

It's not that a game of spin the bottle, or some truth or dare, was necessarily scandalous, but it was enough to get everybody giggling and generate the who-has-a-crush-on-who type of conversations. Since everybody left downstairs were the interested ones that hadn't gone to bed already, it left this smaller, more intimate group to carry out some otherwise repressed desires.

You weren't the first to go in, but it was clear that the first pairing didn't do anything. That was fine and all, and a good reminder that you didn't have to kiss, if you didn't want to.

When Asahi was asked who he wanted to spend the time with, he returned your previous admission from a different game.

"I mean- why would I not say (Y/n)?"

He looked from Suga, who had taken the mantle of 'fun-mom' in all of this, being the bottle-spinner and card-holder and question-maker, back to you.

You realized the time he took to look at his friend was probably the only instance in the past 30 minutes that his eyes hadn't been locked onto you, ever since you admitted your little crush for him.

Getting in was about as easy as you imagined.

It had you both packed so tight that you had maybe an inch to move, at best. It forced you to put your hands on each other, just to stay oriented in the pitch black, and not trip.

"G-od," He sighed, and you earned a centimeter of space for two seconds. Then he had to take another breath and you were immobilized again, "We gotta- gotta adjust, or somethi-ng."

A strained, "Y-eah," was all you could get out. This was not a space meant to fit two people.

"I think, if... I..."

In the darkness, all you could see was some vague shadows move as he stretched down. His palms swallowed up your sides, and you desperately tried to keep your excitement down when you felt for his shoulders. He curled you up and threaded a strong, wide thigh between yours.

Most of it was genuine adjustment, but that didn't mean that it felt any less erotic. Just having to wrap your arms around his body and pull, so that you could sit higher up on his leg, was making your heart race.

"That feel better?"

His grumbly tone forced your thighs to tighten, the way you sat becoming more arched.

You could only give him a whisper, voice strained, because of how nervous you felt, "Yes."

Asahi chuckled right away, his breath ghosting right past your temple.

It was impossible to tell if he was bent to purposefully be close, or if there was no space to straighten more. You assumed the most polite option.

"You, uh- you... comfortable?" He muttered, more against you instead of anywhere else he could've possibly spoken, "Comfortable enough- I guess?"

You laughed, "Sure, yeah."

His thumb started rubbing against your side as he laughed with you. You could feel yourself getting wet, and tried to suppress any automatic squirming.

"You're- a... a nice seat--," Your face scrunched, your innocent words unsuccessful at trying to make things silly, and easy.

"Oh?" He chuckled at you.

"I- didn't--," You looked up in the dark, but couldn't see anything, and tried to pray away your embarrassment, "I did not mean it like that."

His grin spread, and you could feel his stubble really clearly against your forehead.

A tiny kiss to your hairline made your fingers grip his t-shirt, your spine straighten, your poor heart work even harder.

"It's okay if you did," The smile in his voice was so sweet.

Kissing him was shockingly simple. You felt like you had lots to say, things to explain, but they were so unimportant when his lips were soft and reading you like an open book.

The only crucial detail needed, for the moment, in this closet, was that you were super into him, and he was at least entertaining it.

For minutes, he couldn't decide where, how, he wanted to hold you. His arms would trade off between pulling you against his front in a hug, so he could feel more of your body on his.

Or, he would take more of a direct route of using his hands to pull you in for kisses, by the back of the neck, with his other palm keeping you pressed hard against his thigh.

The switch would happen any time you weren't heavy enough on his leg, or when your back wasn't arched enough to stay smushed against his chest.

"M-mh-," He was rolling your hips for you, weighing you down more on his thigh, flexing it just so.

You squirmed, having to part, at his lewd sounds.

He searched for you, huffing, in the dark, "Does that feel good?"

The tone he used with you was genuine, despite how dirty the phrase felt. For a moment, he stopped rubbing you against him.

You swallowed the mixture of spit in your mouth and tried to wipe the drool off of your lips, trembling, "Y-eah, it-- it's--,"

When your hand dipped to fix the seam of your shorts, you accidentally grabbed something warm, and stiff, and just off of where he had you grinding.

"Oh-! Sorry," You retracted your hand, face radiating heat, "I'm sorry."

His chest swelled in a restrained gasp through his nose. His voice was higher, and different as he reassured you it was completely fine.

"Was- that--? Mmh--," Before you could finish your tentative question, he wrapped one arm around you, palming half ass, half hip, while the other yanked you against his torso. It seemed he had realized a good middle ground between his holds.

Another partial moan at how he was able to pull you further up -so that you were trapping his cock between your bodies- got cut off by another clumsy kiss.

He bit you, at your bottom lip, and it throbbed for the rest of the time you kissed him. It made you shove a hand down the back of his shirt, give him an otherwise embarrassing sound, that he ate right up.

What you could feel of his print throbbed against you. A weakness radiated down through your fingers and toes as you scratched lines into his bare skin. It didn't do shit. It was like he didn't even feel it.

Actually, you wanted that shirt off.

It took just three seconds of pitiful tugging for him to let off, pull it over his head with one hand, and swing it to the dusty floor. Forgotten.

He was rough when he put his hands back on you, when you returned it, tugging, wanting to be closer however possible.

"Fuck-!" You sighed, breathing hard, fast, at his busy sucking down your neck.

His nails dug into your skin, his breathing characterized by needy groans that sounded a lot like he in the middle of a workout, if anything.

Since when did he like you back? Was it just because you were available? Would he have done this with any of the girls on your team? Not that it was much of a competition- none of them thought he looked 'civilized' enough to entertain him as an option.

Your legs were jelly, your thoughts heavy, but it didn't matter.

His shoulders would stretch further with every huff, expanding and resetting, and you couldn't stop yourself from scouring every inch while he was over you. It was getting hot in here. He was getting tacky, a little slippery in some areas.

He bit you too hard in a soft spot and you cried out, barely stuffing the sound into his bare shoulder. It was loud and you both knew it was audible through the other side of the door.

Asahi slowed, as gentle as he started, again, with an apologetic hum in the crook of your neck.

"Sorry," You could hear his smile, "Too much-"

He sighed and collected his nerves for a second as he readjusted his grip on you. More palm, less fingertips. It didn't sting as much and you missed it.

He said definitively, mostly to himself, "That was too much."

"I liked it!" You reassured him quietly, palm moving from his shoulder, to his neck, to the side of his face.

"I liked it. I liked it," Got repeated, in a tiny giggle, as he stilled.

You were delivering multiple little pecks across his face, craving his intensity as soon as you lost it. You tried holding him tighter, but it wasn't the same when he wasn't pushing and pulling.

That tingly sensation of his breathy laugh, his skilled tongue, was back on your neck, closer to your ear.

You melted at once with a whimper, the need to rock your own hips short-lived because he pushed his own against your heat.

"Ahh-!"

He grinned, sucking another bit of skin in an obvious spot, "Shhh."

The heartbeat between your legs was strong. He could feel it clearly against his thigh, wishing it was better placed and put to good use.

His fingertips were digging, pushing past the waistband of your shorts, further down, palm against your tummy. Maybe it was that feeling, maybe it was your enthusiasm, or maybe the fact that you were so wet he could feel that, too, but something possessed him to start getting greedy.

But he paid for it. While you were encouraging him, a hand around his thick forearm, guiding and pushing it down, a gasp already on your breath-- you were both completely blinded.

No courtesy knock. Just a bright light and a loud screech. Asahi retracted his curious hand in a flash, but there was not much else to do to make this look less provocative.

Though the sound was higher-pitched, it was not made from anyone on your team.

Nishinoya dropped to his knees, slack-jawed, and that's all you were able to register before the door slammed shut again.

Suga scolded him from the other side, others were shushing incessantly.

"You were supposed to knock, Noya!!"

"Now Daichi's gonna wake up! Nice going, dumbass!"

It gave you both enough time to try and separate. However, without opening the door, you couldn't get fully off of one another.

You were shaking, beyond nervous, and forcefully sobered. Not exactly happy.

"Um- that was great. Thank you," It was a short, and curt, way of telling him you didn't expect much after this. You had one hand on the door.

Asahi grabbed you by the waist and dragged you back. "C'mere--,"

His rough, messy, desperate last kiss was enough to leave you dizzy. He readjusted himself during it with one last rub.

"We're not done yet," He told you. Another hasty peck to the top of your head, and he was leagues lighter in tone, "Uh, sorry- As far as I'm concerned. Do what you want, though!"

He turned the knob for you and pushed it open a crack. You stumbled out, wiping your mouth.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @screamin-abt-haikyuu

potential for part two but i need to refrain from making promises. lmk if you're interested and i can make a taglist if i revisit!

my masterlist. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

[v4mpire45]

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is a series, so other parts will be here!

☞ Link: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Bakugo x Jealous female reader

Synopsis: When you realize you're in love with your childhood best friend, but force you're feeling's down for the sake of your friendship.

Author's note: My girl has crashed out. Whatever will she do? I felt as if this was a little rushed, but I tried.

Here you were, standing outside the dorms, waiting for a party you had zero interest in. Mina, of course, had dragged you along, insisting it would be fun. You weren’t convinced.

The air was thick with humidity, making it even more unbearable. You, Sero, Kaminari, and Jirou were already outside, waiting on the rest of the group. Kirishima was still trying to convince Bakugo to come, while Kimiko and Mina had insisted on “dressing up” for the occasion.

"God, they're taking forever! Can we just leave without them?" Kaminari groaned, fanning himself dramatically. "It’s flipping hot out here, man."

"Stop whining, Kaminari," Jirou rolled her eyes, nudging him with her elbow.

"I mean, in his defense, we've been out here for thirty minutes. The party started twenty minutes ago," you pointed out, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Just then, Kirishima practically dragged Bakugo outside. The blonde looked pissed, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his scowl deeper than usual.

"Sorry we're late! Is everyone ready?" Kirishima asked, still holding onto Bakugo’s arm like he was afraid he’d bolt.

"No, because flipping Mina and Kimiko aren't here!" Kaminari whined again, throwing his hands in the air.

"Wait!" Mina’s voice rang out from behind. The group turned just in time to see her and Kimiko walking toward them, both dressed in cute outfits that were clearly meant to impress.

"Damn!" Kaminari blurted before Jirou smacked him upside the head.

"Who were you guys looking to impress?" Jirou asked, eyebrow raised.

Sero let out a quiet wolf whistle, his eyes lingering on Kimiko. You deadpanned, giving him a sharp "seriously?" look. He only shrugged, grinning.

"Can we hurry the hell up? I don’t have time for this crap," Bakugo scoffed, already marching off toward the dorms.

The group followed after him, except for you.

Mina, noticing your hesitation, grabbed your hand and pulled you along. "What’s up with you, girly? You haven’t been yourself these past few weeks."

You were about to brush it off with a “nothing” when she continued.

"And don’t even try to say ‘nothing.’ I saw you at the pool party last week, crying in Sero’s arms."

Your stomach dropped. Great. So she saw that.

You sighed. "I’ve just been stressed out, but I’m okay now. Sero and I talked it out."

Mina gave you a skeptical look before nodding. "Alright, I’ll believe you… but you do know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I know," you said, offering a small smile.

"Good! Now let’s party!" She grinned, dragging you inside.

The moment you stepped into the dorms, the bass from the music vibrated through your chest. The party was already in full swing, people dancing, laughing, drinking soda, and lounging on couches.

Mina wasted no time pulling you onto the dance floor, where you met up with Yaoyorozu, Tsu, Ochaco, and Hagakure. The six of you swayed to the music, letting loose. For the first time in weeks, you actually felt free.

Then Kimiko showed up.

"Oh my god, you guys, Bakugo is so freaking impossible sometimes!" Kimiko groaned, dramatically flipping her hair.

You clenched your jaw.

"What’d he do now?" Ochaco asked, sipping her drink while sliding left and right.

"Ugh, he just doesn't get it! Like, we were talking, and I swear I was flirting so hard, but all he did was grunt at me! Like, how dense can you be?" Kimiko huffed, crossing her arms.

"I mean, it’s Bakugo. He’s not exactly Mr. Romantic," Tsu pointed out.

"Yeah, but come on! I feel like I’m this close to breaking through that tough exterior," Kimiko continued, holding up her fingers with barely any space between them. "Like, he actually listened to me today! And when I laughed, he kind of—"

"Oh my god, can you just shut up about Bakugo for ten minutes?"

The words were out before you could stop them.

The music didn’t stop immediately, but the mood did. Heads turned. Your friends stared. Even people not involved in the conversation glanced over.

Mina’s eyes widened. "Y/N, what the heck?" she muttered, trying to tug you back.

But you weren’t backing down.

Kimiko crossed her arms, glaring. "What the hell is your problem, Y/N?"

The music cut off. More people started paying attention.

You knew you should stop. You knew you should swallow your jealousy and walk away.

But you didn’t.

"You! My problem is you! You’re so desperate! Hop off his balls for once!"

The room went silent.

Mina inhaled sharply. Ochaco’s mouth dropped open. Yaoyorozu gasped. Tsu's eyes widened, and Hagakure covered her mouth.

Kimiko’s expression twisted into something unreadable, shock, hurt, and anger all mixing at once.

You felt the weight of what you just said crash over you like a tidal wave.

"Crap, Kimiko, I’m—"

"Save it, Y/N," she snapped, turning on her heel and storming off.

Yaoyorozu immediately followed her.

Tsu gave you a disappointed look before sighing. "Not cool, Y/N." Then she walked away, too.

Hagakure hesitated before saying, "I’m gonna check on them."

Ochaco shook her head. "That wasn’t you at all, Y/N…" She trailed off, then left as well.

Just like that, your friend group had scattered.

Mina pulled you off the dance floor into a quieter area, arms crossed. "Y/N, what the heck was that?"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "I don’t know, okay? I messed up."

"That was more than messing up. What even triggered that—" Mina stopped mid-sentence. Realization dawned on her face. "Oh, honey no. Bakugo?"

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

Mina sighed, shaking her head. "I knew something was up. You always look miserable whenever Kimiko talks about him. But seriously, girl, that wasn’t cool. You shouldn’t have let your jealousy bubble over like that."

You swallowed hard, shame sinking in. "I know. I’ll apologize to her."

Mina gave you a firm nod. "Good. I’m gonna go check on them. You need to cool down."

You didn’t argue.

Once she left, you exhaled shakily and slid down the wall, resting your back against the cool surface.

The weight of your own words crushed down on you.

What have you done?

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

Tags: @tsukikoxo @pet1t3 @anon-mouse223 @nepenthes-things @hakkoyo @ita606 @raeroowrites @dreamybabbyy @ghostkat23 @channnee @sanriihoe @ch3rryjampi3 @eyesforbkg @charlotterosea13

[daeniradraconis]

Faceoff with Love - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack Hughes. The NHL’s ultimate manwhore. King of confidence. Untouchable… or at least, that’s what he thought. Until he falls hard.

Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, nothing too wild or serious

Hey, lovelies! 💕 This is Jack's story, the next installment in what I’ve officially named The Hughes Effect Saga—because let’s be real, every brother deserves their own story. I couldn’t resist giving the main characters names since this universe is growing, and honestly, trying to write it without them would’ve been mission impossible. So, just a heads-up: Thea is Luke’s love interest! (Though if you’ve read Age Is Just a Number…Right?, you won’t see her mentioned there, since that one started as a standalone one-shot.) You can read this without reading Age Is Just a Number, but it definitely gives you more background on Jack's story if you do!

Not gonna lie, this one took forever to write. It ended up being 16,472 words and 42 pages in my Word doc—so, yeah… buckle up! 😅

Hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it! ❤️

For more fun: masterlist

—-

Jack Hughes, star of the New Jersey Devils, was enjoying a normal morning—until the noises coming from his little brother Luke’s room hijacked his thoughts. Jack had always been supportive of Luke, and he was genuinely happy for him. After all, Luke and his girlfriend had been through a lot—the pressures of the NHL, the relentless fans, and everything in between had made starting their relationship anything but easy. He knew how much effort they both put in to make it work, and he couldn’t help but admire them for it.

But the sounds from the next room? That was a different story. Jack tried to block it out, but it was impossible. The muffled conversations—and those other noises—had a way of seeping into his mind. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy that bothered him, though. It was what he’d learned that really threw him off: Luke’s kink.

Some things were best left unsaid, behind closed doors. But there was Luke, sounding way too eager to ask permission for... well, things Jack had no business hearing. It was burned into his brain, and he couldn’t unhear it.

“Yeah, no. Nope. That’s it. I need to get out of here,” Jack muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

With a groan, he kicked off the covers, grabbed a hoodie from the back of the couch, and yanked it over his head. “I need bleach. For my ears. And my soul.”

A coffee shop seemed like the safest escape—loud espresso machines, the comforting scent of fresh beans… anything to erase whatever the hell he’d just overheard.

As he stepped outside, he let out a deep breath, shaking off the lingering ick of the morning. He had morning skates later anyway, so at least this way, he’d be caffeinated and mentally prepared before hitting the ice.

By the time Jack reached the coffee shop, the tension in his shoulders had finally eased, the crisp morning air doing its job in clearing his head. As he pushed open the door, the familiar chime jingled, welcoming him into the warm, cozy space. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of people tapping away at laptops, a few others lost in their books, the low hum of conversation filling the air.

Jack stepped into line, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he took in the room. He could feel it—the shift in energy, the way conversations quieted just slightly, the not-so-subtle glances thrown his way. He walked in like he owned the place. And in a way, he kind of did. Not literally, of course, but the moment he stepped inside, it was obvious—people noticed.

A couple of girls in the corner glanced up, whispering behind their hands. The old man at the corner table did a double take. A guy in line nudged his friend, a knowing smirk passing between them. Jack thrived on it. The attention, the recognition—it was something he was used to, and he had no problem leaning into it.

His gaze swept over the room, naturally lingering on the women who were stealing glances at him. A cocky smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and just for fun, he threw in a wink. A playful smile for good measure. Yeah, he knew the effect he had. Confidence? Absolutely. Arrogance? Maybe just a little. But it was the kind of charm that turned heads, and really, who could blame him? Jack Hughes wasn’t just another guy in the crowd—he was the one people noticed.

And he loved every second of it.

Jack was used to this. It was familiar. Easy. But then—he saw her.

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t whispering about him, or sneaking glances, or batting her lashes like so many others did. She was behind the counter, focused on her work, crafting drinks with effortless precision, her movements fluid and practiced. There was something about her—a quiet warmth, a presence that made the entire room feel at ease. She wasn’t just beautiful; it was the way she carried herself. Feminine yet self-assured, graceful but never trying too hard.

Jack felt it immediately—the pull. Like gravity.

His heart did this stupid little stutter, and before he even realized it, he was just standing there. Staring. What the hell?

This wasn’t him. Jack Hughes didn’t freeze up over a girl. He’d had flings, fun, no-strings-attached moments. He knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to walk away before things got complicated. But right now? None of that seemed to matter.

Get it together, Hughes, he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to look away.

But then, as if she’d felt his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met.

And in that instant, something shifted.

It was subtle. Electric. She had this knowing look on her face, like she could see right through him. Like she already had him figured out before he could even open his mouth.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack Hughes wasn’t the one in control.

Jack leaned on the counter, trying to play it cool, but he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her. When she finally looked up, their eyes met, and for a second, the usual confidence he wore like a second skin seemed to fade.

She raised an eyebrow as she set her hands on the counter, a half-smirk forming on her lips. "Can I help you?"

Jack blinked, catching himself. "Uh, that depends. You serving coffee... or are you in the business of making guys fall in love too?" he said with a grin, though it came out a little less smooth than he intended.

She didn’t even flinch. "Just coffee. And bad pickup lines? They cost extra."

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch. Brutal." He leaned in, dropping the cocky act just a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll take a latte. And a blueberry muffin. Gotta keep it classic, you know?"

"Classic? More like predictable," she replied, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she started on his drink.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You analyzing me now?"

She didn’t even look at him as she spoke. "Not really. Just guessing you’re the type who thinks a smirk and a couple of cheesy lines will get you anything you want."

Jack froze for a moment, a little taken aback. "Whoa, right in the heart," he said, putting his hand over his chest in mock offense.

She didn’t even look at him this time. "You’ll survive. Might even build some character," she added casually as she reached for the milk steamer.

Jack smirked, his confidence flickering back. "Character, huh? I’ve got plenty. Some might even say too much."

She glanced up then, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Yeah? And who exactly are these 'some'?"

He leaned in a little closer, almost leaning on the counter now. "Oh, you know... fans, teammates, my mom... definitely my mom." He winked.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her fingers expertly crafting the latte. "Uh-huh. Sure, sounds legit."

Jack leaned back a bit, watching her. There was something about how she didn’t let him off the hook. It was... refreshing. "So what’s it gonna take?" he asked, trying to play it cool again.

"For what?" She finally met his gaze, eyebrows raised.

"For you to admit you’re already a little bit in love with me," he said with a teasing grin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She slid his drink across the counter without a hint of hesitation. "Jack Hughes, right?"

His grin widened. "So you do know me."

"Oh, I know of you," she said, turning away to grab a napkin, clearly unfazed. "You’re a good player."

Jack straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Great player," he corrected her, but his tone was light, playful.

She looked over her shoulder, deadpan. "On the ice."

Jack laughed softly, the sting of her words taking a second to hit. "Damn, alright. Tough crowd."

She smiled, but it wasn’t the soft, flirty smile he expected. It was knowing. Like she already saw right through him. "Seen your type before. You walk in, flash a smile, throw out a line or two, and think the world’s just gonna roll over for you."

Jack leaned in again, his grin slipping into something more genuine. "And yet, here you are... still talking to me. Guess you must like it."

She hummed, considering this, before turning back to the machine. "Or maybe I just like watching a guy slowly realize he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is."

Jack’s smirk returned, and he picked up his drink. "So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?"

She winked, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Oh, Hughes. You have no idea."

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his muffin. "I’ve got to run. Practice later... but I’ll be back. You’re an interesting one." He winked, letting the last word linger a little longer than usual.

“Do not threaten me, Hughes,” she shot back, her voice dry but that little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jack turned to leave, his mind still buzzing from their conversation. He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked out the door, but this time, it wasn’t the usual adrenaline of a win. It was something else.

Maybe... just maybe, she was right. He was used to being in control, but with her? Yeah, she wasn’t having any of it.

—

The ice cream shop had a laid-back atmosphere, with a few customers scattered across the tables, quietly enjoying their frozen treats. The soft hum of conversation blended with the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the low buzz of the freezer in the corner. The casual, easygoing vibe was the perfect backdrop for Jack to make his usual, attention-grabbing announcement.

“So, I met a girl,” he said casually, his grin practically glowing with satisfaction.

Luke didn’t even look up, already bracing himself for whatever absurdity was coming. Jack had that look—an announcement, followed by something outlandish. Thea, however, shot him a pointed glance, arching a brow in that skeptical way she did so well.

“Oh, here we go,” she muttered, barely containing her amusement.

Jack scoffed. “Wow, way to be supportive.”

Thea smirked, scooping a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. “No, it’s just... every time you drop that line, I know I’m about to hear some delusional story about how she’s already swooning over you.” She shrugged with a grin. “Which, let’s be honest, is usually true. Flash that smile, and bam! Girls are basically tripping over themselves for you.”

Jack leaned back, clearly relishing the attention. “Exactly. It’s a gift.”

Thea rolled her eyes and casually tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No, it’s just an ego boost. You’re like a baby with a bottle—constantly sucking up the attention.”

Jack, looking entirely unbothered, twirled his spoon. “Can you blame me? I mean, why not appreciate what I’ve got?”

Luke looked up now, giving Jack a resigned look. He was ready for the same tired routine. “Jack, have you ever thought that maybe—just maybe—not every girl is going to fall for your whole act?”

Jack shot him a glance like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing. “Why would I think that? It’s never happened.” He paused, then added with a touch of uncertainty, “Okay, she’s a tough one, but she’ll come around. I think she just likes to play hard to get.” He could see the truth in her eyes—she wasn’t interested—but admitting that wasn’t an option. Not with his brother and Thea around.

Thea snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, the delusion’s strong with this one.”

Jack leaned forward slightly, tapping his fingers on the table with a confident smirk. “I’m not delusional, I’m just a realist. And the reality is... I’m me.” He paused for effect. “And I don’t lose.”

Thea let out a dramatic laugh, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jack frowned, confused. “What’s so funny?”

Thea took another bite of her cone, her grin widening. “You. Thinking you’re untouchable. I love the confidence, but one day, some girl’s going to make you look like a fool.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for a shot with me? I could walk out of here and just point at someone, and they'd be all over me.”

Luke, who had been watching the exchange unfold, finally spoke up. “Yeah, except for this one. I’m guessing she’s got a little more sense than that.”

Jack groaned, dramatically rubbing his face with his hand and shooting Luke an exasperated "you little shit" look. “Oh, come on. You make it sound like I don’t have options. I’m Jack Hughes guys—the same guy who got a date with three different girls at last week’s game.”

Thea rolled her eyes again. “Oh yeah, that’s really a sign of emotional maturity.” She shot Luke a knowing look.

Luke just smiled faintly, shaking his head. “If Jack’s ego ever took a hit, we'd probably need a whole therapy session.”

Jack flashed a smug grin, fully aware they were kind of right. “Ego? What ego? I’m just stating the facts.”

Thea leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure. State your facts. But you’re missing one thing, Jack.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what’s that?”

She tilted her head, clearly loving the moment. “This girl doesn’t want you.”

Jack’s smile faltered just a touch, but he quickly recovered. “Everybody wants me.”

Thea shook her head, the smirk never leaving her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack jumped in before she could.

“Okay, maybe except you!” He threw his hands up in mock frustration. “But that’s not my charm’s fault. You just have a thing for younger guys, so I never stood a chance. You pedo…”

Thea’s cheeks flushed, and she slapped his arm lightly, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Jack, you can’t call me that, you arrogant prick! Show some respect to your elders!”

Jack smirked, unfazed. “Oh, yes, yes… sorry, Ms. Senior Citizen.”

Luke chuckled softly, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but be impressed with how Thea had grown into herself. At first, their six-year age gap had made her uneasy, but Jack, being Jack, never passed up a chance to remind her of it. Luke knew Jack played this game on purpose—his teasing made Thea realize the age gap wasn’t as big of a deal as she’d thought. And over time, she’d become more confident, even starting to enjoy Jack’s dark humor. Of course, she’d never admit it, and Luke was thankful for that. Jack didn’t need any more ego boosts.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Luke muttered under his breath, as if preparing himself for the inevitable chaos. It wasn’t a prediction—it was a certainty. Jack wasn’t going to let this girl slip away, he new that.

Jack waved him off, though his signature, idiotic grin only grew wider. “Relax, Lukey. I’m unstoppable. She’s going to like me. Trust me.”

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pressing against his temples as he massaged his forehead. “Ohhh, this is going to be such a disaster.”

Jack finished off his ice cream, still blissfully unaware of the train wreck he was about to walk into. “You two are the worst. But mark my words, she’s going to like me.”

Thea winked at him. “No, we’re just not here to feed your delusion, Jacky. You could use a reality check every once in a while.”

Jack rolled his eyes, the mischievous grin still tugging at his lips. “You know what, Lukey? Maybe you should upgrade her to someone a little younger…”

“JACK!” Luke and Thea shouted in unison, but Jack only laughed, clearly finding his own joke far too hilarious.

— 

Jack pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar chime of the bell ringing through the night air, but tonight, it sounded more hollow than usual.

It was late—too late—the kind of late when the world seems to shrink into itself, wrapped in the silence of the night. The air carried the warm scent of coffee and sweet pastries, but Jack barely noticed. His mind was still spinning from the game. The Devils had lost, and his mood mirrored the dark sky outside—heavy, empty, and far too cold. Yet, despite the bitterness of defeat lingering in his chest, there was something else that kept nagging at him.

He wanted to see her.

The girl behind the counter.

It was absurd, he knew. He didn’t even know her name. But ever since the game ended—ever since he’d sat in the locker room, listening to Nico’s half-hearted attempts at positivity—his thoughts kept drifting back to her. Why? It didn’t make sense.

He glanced around, expecting the usual warmth and buzz of conversation that made the place feel so cozy. But tonight was different.

The lights were dim, and the usual chatter had faded—most likely because it was just two minutes to closing, and the last of the customers had trickled out.

Jack’s eyes immediately found her behind the counter. The girl from before.

The moment she saw him, her expression shifted, just slightly—a brief flicker of annoyance before her face went completely neutral. He could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him, especially not this late.

Jack leaned against the counter, flashing his trademark easy smile. “Hey there.”

She looked up, the briefest flicker of recognition crossing her face before it disappeared. She sighed quietly, clearly not in the mood. "You again," she muttered under her breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "What do you want this time?"

Jack grinned, undeterred by her tone. “Actually, I realized I never got your name last time.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Seriously? You came all the way back just for my name?” She paused, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I must be pretty special, huh?”

Jack shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guess I was too busy trying to charm you last time. But hey, I did promise I’d come back.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “So now that I’m here… what’s your name?”

She rolled her eyes but grabbed some fresh milk from under the counter. “It’s Anja,” she said flatly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the name. “Anja, huh? Definitely sounds foreign.”

Anja shot him a dry look, hands almost slamming the milk into the fridge. “Yep. My dad’s German, my mom’s from New Jersey. Pretty exotic, right?”

Jack’s grin faltered for a moment, surprised. “Wait—your dad’s from Germany? That’s… interesting.” He paused, then added with a laugh. “That’s one combo I didn’t expect. My buddy Nico’s German too. He was born in Switzerland.”

Anja froze, staring at him. Then blinked slowly. “Wait—what?”

Jack, clearly proud of his random connection, rushed on, oblivious to her confusion. “Yeah, Nico’s our captain, super chill guy. Always telling me I should visit him in Switzerland one summer. We haven’t done it yet, but maybe next year. He’s like a brother to me, honestly. Don’t tell my real brothers, though—they’d flip. They get jealous if I even mention Nico.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, already knowing Jack had a habit of overestimating the significance of himself. She stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter. “No, Jack… Switzerland’s not in Germany!” She bent forward slightly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Jack blinked, feeling a little foolish, but he wasn’t about to back down. “What? It’s a county in Germany, right? Somewhere near... uh, Munich…?”

Anja’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. She let out a laugh, half-pitying, half-astonished. “Oh my God, Hughes. Switzerland and Germany are two completely different countries.” She shook her head slowly, as if he’d just told her the Earth was flat. “You’re telling me your best friend’s from Switzerland, and you have no idea where the hell is that? Seriously, could you be more American?”

Jack winced, but a grin quickly crept back onto his face, clearly unbothered by his own ignorance. “Hey, don’t forget, you’re half American too, so no need to get all high and mighty on me.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as she crossed her arms.“Sweetie, you’re the one who thought Switzerland was a county.”

Jack shrugged with a playful grin, raising his hands in mock surrender, his smile never faltering. “Alright, fine. But I’ll take this as a win. I’ve officially upgraded to the ‘sweetie’ category.”

Anja shook her head, still chuckling at his relentless self-confidence. “A lost cause, Hughes. That’s what you are… a lost cause.” She gave him an exasperated look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe try opening some books next time. Girls like guys with an actual brain.”

Jack waved it off dismissively. “I’ll let you know I do read. But yeh my brother Quinn is the nerd. Seriously bookish. Let me tell you, it’s not helping him. He’s got zero game.”

Anja flashed a playful grin and leaned in closer, the sudden proximity making Jack’s heart skip a beat. Her perfume—a fresh, orange scent that reminded him of a rain-drenched forest—hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was warm, feminine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but notice the way the scent seemed to pull him closer, but he did his best to keep it together.

She lowered her voice just enough to make him focus. “Or maybe... he’s just a normal guy who doesn’t want every woman’s panties to drop the second he meets them.”

Jack swallowed, his eyes flicking to her mouth, noticing the way her lips parted just slightly as she spoke. He tried to focus, but the air between them was thick with tension, the heat of her so close to him throwing him off. “Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping low, his words teasing as his gaze lingered on her lips. “He just overthinks everything. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow in life, you know?”

Anja shook her head with a soft smile, muttering under her breath as she crossed her arms. “As I said, lost cause,” she added, only half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jack laughed, relieved she was still in the game. He gave her a wink, the confidence in his smile almost irresistible. “But a charming, good-looking, lost cause, right?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips and the amusement in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t really bothered. Her eyes briefly caught his, and for the first time, she noticed how his blue eyes weren’t just any shade—they had this grayish undertone that made them look almost stormy. It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she snapped back to the banter with a playful glint. “You really should’ve opened a geography book sometime. You can’t disrespect your friend this much. At least learn the basics about the poor guy’s life if you want to be his bestie.”

Jack’s grin widened as he leaned in, his light brown wavy hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression a mix of challenge and charm. “Hey—I’d happily let you teach me about Switzerland... or anything else. To be fair, I’d let you do anything with me.”

Anja let out a breathless laugh at his boldness, shaking her head, but her eyes softened as she met his gaze. “Yeah, keep dreaming, Jack.”

Jack winked. “Believe me I will. But seriously—just give me a chance. Let me prove myself to you.” Anja rolled her eyes again, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Whatever, Jack. You can beg, but the answer is still no.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees with all the dramatic flair he could muster, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Anja froze, her eyes wide, the mug she’d been about to place on the shelf still dangling in mid-air. “What the hell are you doing?!” she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and something else—amusement, maybe. It was hard to tell.

Jack tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, still kneeling with a grin that stretched wider. “You said I can beg, but I wasn’t really begging yet, was I? Let me show you just how good I can be at it.” He fluttered his lashes and gave her the full-on puppy-dog eyes, cranking up the charm.

Anja stared at him for a solid minute, her brain clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she burst out laughing. “You’re insane,” she said, shaking her head, stepping back like she needed to regain some personal space from this level of ridiculousness.

Jack, still on his knees, leaned in a bit closer with dramatic theatrics, his grin widening. He clasped his hands together like he was about to give a TED talk.

"Anja, hear me out," he began, voice dripping with over-the-top sincerity. "I know you think I’m a lost cause, but I’m not just any lost cause. I’m your lost cause. And let me tell you why."

He paused for effect, then continued, ticking off his points like a lawyer making a case. "First off, I’m a party. You want a good time? I’m your guy. I can keep things fun, always ready for an adventure, never a dull moment."

He held up a finger, ready to deliver his second point. "Next, I’m a manwhore. And I know what you’re thinking—‘Jack, that sounds bad!’ But no, hear me out. Being a manwhore means experience. I know how to make people laugh, I know how to charm, I know how to—" He shot her a wink. "Well, I know how to do a lot of things. So... experience? Check."

Jack then leaned back dramatically, spreading his arms out. "And, let’s not forget, I’m a hockey player. I’m rich, athletic, and—" he gave her a sly grin, flexing his arm slightly, "look at these muscles. I’ve got the athletic build, which means a lot of energy to spare. And when I’m not working out, I’m probably... in the kitchen making all the mistakes with cooking. And that’s actually a good thing! Because you—" he pointed at her, "You can be the queen of the kitchen, living out your baking dreams while I try not to set the stove on fire. My kitchen? Practically untouched, new condition. You can take over anytime."

Anja rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t ready for what came next. Jack, still grinning, suddenly pulled his shirt up slightly to expose a well-defined set of abs. His muscles flexed with a little extra dramatic flair. "See this?" He flexed again, holding the pose for a moment. "Hard work, dedication... and honestly, a whole lot of charm. You can’t argue with that, right?"

Anja froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stood there for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing, before rushing to Jack. Kneeling beside him, she reached for his shirt, fingers scrambling to grab the fabric. She shot him a look of shock. “Oh my God, Jack, put it down! This is insane.” She yanked at his shirt, but Jack grabbed her wrist. His grip was unshakable, and he used his position on the ground to keep her from pulling away.

He moved closer, a glint of mischief in his eyes, clearly enjoying every moment of his act. “I’m just proving a point. I’m the full package, Anja—athletic, a manwhore, experienced, and a terrible cook. The perfect guy to have fun!”

Anja gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement—as if saying, "Even you don’t believe this." She tried to pull her hand away, but Jack kept his grip tight, holding her wrist steady as his grin grew wider.

Jack shrugged, unfazed by the situation. “Alright, alright, maybe my geography’s a little off. But here’s the deal: You get to be the smart one with all the answers, and I’ll just nod and smile while you school me. It’ll be your show—I’m basically signing up to be your personal cheerleader. You’re the brains, I’ll be the brawn. Need a little backup? I’m your guy.”

Anja shot him a pointed, exasperated look, surprised but slightly amused as he kept his hold on her wrist. “So, Anja, what do you think? I’m the full package—fun, rich, athletic, kind, supportive, and amazing. What more could you possibly want?”

Despite herself, Anja laughed, though she fought to hold her composure. “This is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard in my life, Jack. Seriously, put your shirt down already.”

But Jack didn’t move an inch. "You know you want to. I’m practically giving you the world here. I can be your support, your personal cheerleader. You’ll be the brains of the relationship, and I’ll—"

"—Be the ‘muscles,’ right?" Anja interrupted, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Exactly! I'll be your biggest fan, always backing you up. And hey, I’m probably the best at making people laugh too.”

Anja couldn’t help but stare at him—this insufferably stubborn, over-the-top guy—and, much to her own surprise, found herself laughing again. “Hughes, you’re a complete idiot. But fine,” she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll give it to you—you’ve got muscles... and, I guess that counts for something?”

Jack shot her a wink. “Oh, it counts for everything, Anja. Everything. So, what do you say? One coffee, no weirdness?”

Anja hesitated, still gripping his shirt, then let out a long sigh. "Fine. One coffee. But just so we're clear, Hughes—this is strictly a friend thing. No boyfriend talk. I’m not looking for anything, and I definitely can’t handle you as my boyfriend.”

Jack released her wrist, smoothing out his shirt, his grin still in place but with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. I’ll settle for the friend date. A desperate man takes what he can get.”

Anja rolled her eyes, half amused. "Just... no flexing, alright?"

Jack chuckled, giving her a mock salute. “Alright, alright—I'll behave.”

– 

And Jack wasn't lying, about him being on his good behaviour.

He pulled up in his sleek car just as Anja finished her shift a couple days later. The neon lights of the coffee shop flickering behind her. She stepped out into the crisp evening air, shaking off the exhaustion of her shift, her apron swapped for a simple jacket. Jack leaned over from the driver’s seat, his grin wide, like a cat who’d just caught its prey.

“Ready for our coffee date, Anja?”

Anja rolled her eyes dramatically as she slid into the car, amusement flickering across her face.“It’s a friend date, Jack,” she corrected, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. “And what’s the plan? Where are we going?”

Jack’s grin widened. “Well, about that…” He gestured toward the empty streets. “It’s a bit late, and all the normal coffee shops are closed. But don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan.”

Anja raised an eyebrow.”Yeh that's what I’m afraid of.”

“No, no. You’ll love this. Trust me.”Jack chuckled. 

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an old, charming bookstore that looked like it belonged in another era—warm light spilling from its windows, a glowing sign that read Open 24 Hours. It had the kind of inviting presence that made you want to step inside and stay awhile.

Jack parked and motioned for Anja to follow him in.

“This is… a bookstore?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism but also curiosity. As she stepped through the door, the scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Not just any bookstore,” he said, his tone teasing. “It’s got a coffee shop inside. And pastries. Perfect place for a late-night coffee date, if you ask me.” Jack flashed a smirk, leading her toward the back. “And you thought I’ve never read a book in my entire life—guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Anja smiled sweetly, shaking her head as she followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Not ridiculous. Creative,” Jack corrected with a grin. 

Inside, a barista was still serving warm drinks to a couple of late-night readers, the soft hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the crackling of an old record playing in the background. Cozy armchairs and beanbags were scattered throughout the room, creating an intimate, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

Anja glanced around, taking it all in. The soft lighting, the inviting scent of coffee and something sweet—chocolate, maybe—it all made the space feel like a quiet little world of its own. A place where time didn’t feel so urgent. “Okay… I’ll admit, this is actually kind of nice. Cozy, even.”

Jack flopped onto a nearby beanbag, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “See? You can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

Anja groaned. “You’ve been in prime form tonight, haven’t you?”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” he shot back, flashing her another confident smile.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer. “What if we swap coffee for hot chocolate instead?” His playful edge had slipped away a little. “Figured something warm and sweet might be better this late.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden thoughtfulness. “Hmm, actually, that sounds really good. It is too late for coffee, and I could use a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Jack’s smile deepened, satisfied with her answer. “Good choice,” he said with a wink before heading to the counter.

When he came back, he wasn’t just carrying hot chocolate. Along with the two steaming mugs, he had a plate of warm pastries, their flaky layers golden and crisp. He set everything on the small coffee table between their beanbags, the sweet smell of cocoa and butter filling the air. Something about the simple gesture—just them, the warmth, the food—made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

Anja dropped her coat to the floor and sank into her beanbag, letting out a soft sigh as she got comfortable. Everything about this night felt softer, easier than she’d expected.

“I really wasn’t expecting this… but it’s nice.” She reached for her mug, glancing at him. “Just don’t let the compliment go to your head.”

Jack smirked as he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “No promises.” He picked up a pastry and held it out to her. "I figured you'd appreciate a little something sweet to go with the moment."

Anja hesitated for only a second before taking the pastry. As she bit into it, the warm layers melted on her tongue, and she let out an involuntary hum of satisfaction.

“Okay,” she admitted, taking another bite. “You’re definitely not wrong about this.”

Jack watched her, the sound of her hum catching him off guard, a hint of something shifting in his chest.

As they sipped their hot chocolate the café around them felt like its own little world—soft lighting, the distant murmur of pages turning, the quiet clinking of mugs against saucers.

Anja curled deeper into her beanbag, fingers wrapped around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her hands. Jack stretched out in his seat, looking just as content, his usual energy softened.

When they finished, Jack set his mug down with a satisfied sigh and shot Anja a look. Then, without warning, he reached for her hand and pulled her up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anja blinked. “Go where?”

He gestured toward the shelves. “You can’t just sit in a bookstore café and not browse. That’s practically a crime.”

She huffed a laugh but let him lead her toward the towering bookshelves. As they wandered through the aisles, Anja ran her fingers over worn spines, occasionally picking up a book to flip through. Jack did the same, moving ahead of her, plucking books off the shelves without much thought.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to his choices—until she caught a glimpse of the titles in his hands. The Odyssey. Moby Dick. War and Peace.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “War and Peace? Really?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, totally unbothered. “What? I’ve got layers, Anja. I like to read, too. Not geography books, as you already know, but serious stuff. Might surprise you.”

Anja let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You? The manwhore of the hockey world? Reading Tolstoy? I thought you were too busy with girls and hockey to have time for this kind of thing.”

Jack smirked, holding up the book like it was a trophy. “Ha ha, really funny.” He shot her a look, clearly not offended. “I’ll have you know, girls and hockey are not the only things in my brain.”

Anja scoffed, reaching out to snatch the book from his hands. She flipped it open, skimming a few pages before looking back up at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“You actually read this?” she asked, holding up War and Peace like it was a foreign artifact. “Not just for, like, show?”

Jack placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, flipping through the pages. “Alright, prove it. Who’s your favorite character?”

Without missing a beat, Jack smirked. “Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Anja froze for a second, looking up from the pages, clearly thrown. “Wait, really? You’re an Andrei guy?”

Jack nodded, his expression dead serious. “What? You thought I’d say Pierre?”

“YES,” she said immediately. “Pierre’s the obvious choice. He’s way more... interesting.”

“Interesting? Pierre’s a hot mess for like, 90% of the book. The guy spends half his time getting lost, getting into trouble, and overthinking everything.”

Anja shot him a teasing glance. “Exactly. That’s what makes him interesting! He’s awkward, searching for meaning... vulnerable.”

Jack laughed, leaning closer to her. “Vulnerable? Or just indecisive? The guy can’t make a choice without spiraling.”

“That’s the whole point. He’s human. Complex.” She poked Jack’s chest with a finger, her eyes gleaming with passion as she leaned in just slightly, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

Jack moved closer to her, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but Pierre’s a disaster. Andrei knows who he is. He’s a leader, a soldier, a guy who gets things done. That’s why I like him.”

“Oh, please,” Anja scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Andrei’s the epitome of a brooding, pretentious sad boy. He spends the entire book sulking, acting like everyone else is beneath him.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face as if she’d just had a sudden realization. “Hmm, sounds kind of familiar, actually.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, a wide smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you calling me brooding and pretentious?”

Anja held his gaze for a beat, then shook her head. “Not exactly. But yeah, that sounds like you—at least the pretentious part. You’re not really the brooding type. You’re way too cocky for that. But I can definitely see some Andrei in you.”

Jack chuckled, a small spark flickering in his chest. He couldn’t help but like a woman who had both a strong opinion and a sharp mind. “I’m confident, not pretentious. There’s a difference. Andrei’s got his life together—he knows what he wants, he has standards, and he doesn’t just drift through life hoping things will work out. You can’t say the same about Pierre. That guy spends half the book lost in his own head, making bad decisions, and hoping the universe sorts it out for him. Andrei? He takes charge. If that’s who you’re comparing me to, I’ll take it.”

Anja shook her head, amused. “Not just that. Andrei’s just a ticking time bomb. All that ‘duty’ and ‘honor’... It’s like a mask he hides behind to avoid facing his own mess. You probably like him because, let’s face it, he’s a little bit like you in that sense as well.”

“Me? A mess? I’m hurt.” Jack let out a dramatic gasp.

Anja shrugged, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “Don’t act like it’s not true. You’re just like him. A little too obsessed with being ‘the guy who’s got it all together.’”

Jack smirked, shifting his weight casually as he placed Moby Dick back on the shelf next to them. “Andrei’s confident. I’m confident. So, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Anja raised her eyebrows. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But at least Pierre learns. He grows. Andrei? He just spends the whole book whining until—well, spoiler alert, he dies.”

Jack threw his hands up in mock disbelief, eyes wide. “Ouch. Ruthless. The guy goes through war, heartbreak, and personal tragedy, and you just—” He waved his hand dramatically. “Done. No sympathy?”

Anja grinned, flipping the book shut with a decisive motion. “Not my fault Tolstoy made him insufferable. I stand by Pierre.”

Jack looked at her, laughing in disbelief. “I can’t believe you read War and Peace and took Pierre’s side.”

Anja shot him a playful side-eye. “Oh yeah? You read it and picked Andrei. We’re clearly both making questionable decisions here.”

“I guess we can’t buddy-read Tolstoy together, huh?” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

Anja crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Good. I’d hate to have to explain everything to you.”

“Unbelievable.” Jack let out an exaggerated sigh, while he tucked War and Peace under his arm again, giving her a teasing look. “Alright, book snob. Since you clearly think you know everything, what’s next? Are you going to try to convince me that Anna Karenina’s actions were justified?”

Anja gasped, eyes widening. “Jack. Don’t even start.”

Shaking her head, Anja grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, and Jack did the same. With their newfound selections in hand, they made their way back to their cozy beanbags. They settled in, the quiet rustle of pages filling the space between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Jack flipped through War and Peace, skimming familiar passages, while Anja lost herself in a biography of one of her favorite artists. The playful banter from earlier still lingered in her mind, but as she snuck a glance at Jack, something about the way he was fully immersed in his book made her pause.

She watched him for a moment, her smile softening. There was something oddly sincere about him like this—quiet, focused, different from the cocky, fast-talking guy she was so used to.

“Huh,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. “Guess I underestimated you, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look up immediately, but a slow, lazy smirk spread across his face. “It happens,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. She turned her attention back to her book, trying to focus. But every now and then, she found herself glancing up—watching as Jack absentmindedly ran a thumb over the edge of the pages, completely absorbed in his book.

Anja took a deep breath, smiling to herself as she sank deeper into the beanbag. Maybe Jack Hughes wasn’t just a pretty face after all. And maybe, just maybe, this friend date wasn’t so bad after all.

—

Weeks passed, and what started as a single friend date grew into something neither of them had quite expected. Something real and deeper. Jack started showing up at the coffee shop every day after practice, sometimes before games, sometimes after. He’d slip in quietly, pulling his hood up, and find a corner table by the window. And there he’d stay, right where Anja could see him. It was like a routine now, something familiar and comforting.

He’d sit there, watching her work, the steady hum of the café filling the space between them as he lazily flipped through a book. On quieter days, when Anja wasn’t rushing from table to table, Jack would start talking—about hockey, the latest game, or whatever TV show had caught his attention. Their conversations stretched beyond the usual small talk. They argued about politics, books, their childhood, even their biggest fears. Jack was always challenging the way she thought about things, pushing her to question what she believed. And though it sometimes annoyed her, Anja couldn’t deny that she actually enjoyed it.

She began to appreciate the complexity in him, the layers behind the cocky smile and careless attitude. It wasn’t just the light teasing that made her laugh. It was the way he could discuss some silly tv show one minute and then dive into a heated debate about the latest political news the next. And sometimes, when their conversations would die down, Jack would pull out a book, burying himself in it while Anja went about her work. They’d fall into a comfortable silence, the kind only true friends could share.

More and more, Anja found herself looking forward to seeing Jack walk in. There was something about him that made everything feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn’t long before their friendship spilled over into texts. Casual check-ins after games, long messages about something that had made them laugh, or a random book recommendation. Anja, to her own surprise, found herself enjoying it. She’d thought it would be strange, having Jack’s name constantly flashing on her phone, but it wasn’t. It was… nice. She wasn’t sure when the shift happened, but somewhere between the books they’d shared, the heated debates, and the quiet moments spent together, Jack had become a friend in a way she hadn’t expected.

And now, as she glanced over at him, sitting in his usual spot, flipping through pages of Inferno by Dante, she couldn’t help but smile. 

Then, as she turned to take an order at the counter, she heard laughter from across the café. She didn’t even need to look to know what was happening. Jack, as usual, had charmed a group of older ladies sitting near the pastry case.

“Oh, come on, Marge,” he said, grinning at one of them as he leaned casually on the counter. “You can’t tell me you weren’t a heartbreaker back in the day. I bet you had all the boys lined up.”

Marge, a widow in her seventies who came in every morning with her two best friends, waved him off with a playful scoff. “Oh, hush, you flirt. You’re just trying to sweet-talk me into buying you a cookie.”

Jack gasped dramatically, but his confident smile was still on his face. “Marge, I would never!”

Anja, overhearing the entire exchange as she filled a coffee cup, tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. She bit her lip, shaking her head as Jack continued his antics, effortlessly charming the older women like he was born to do it.

But then, when his gaze flickered back to Anja, something changed. The easy, flirtatious grin softened. His shoulders relaxed. He still had that effortless confidence, that natural charm, but when it was just the two of them, it was different. He didn’t need to perform. He let Anja see something deeper—something quieter, more thoughtful.

She walked past his table, setting down a fresh cup of coffee without him even asking. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she murmured, shaking her head.

Jack just smirked up at her, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for her. “Yeah, but you like it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

– 

Jack hated these nights.

Another brutal loss. Another night of feeling like the weight of the entire team was sitting on his chest. With Nico out, the pressure had been on him to step up, to push the team to a win. And he tried. He fucking tried. But it wasn’t happening.

And to make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t exactly peaceful.

A muffled whimper filtered through the wall. Then another. Then—Jesus Christ.

Jack clenched his jaw and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his pillow over his head as if that would help. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Luke and Thea were home. And happy. And apparently, they had absolutely no concept of thin walls.

And maybe Jack was just being petty, but it was hard not to feel... left out. Especially when he remembered how he’d been on with Anja these past few weeks.

Jack had never experienced a true friendship with a woman, but Anja was different. From the start, she made it clear that she only saw him as a friend—and that was fine with him. At first, he struggled to accept it, but over time, things shifted. They grew closer, spending hours together, laughing, talking, and sharing moments. Jack found himself explaining the New Jersey Devils to her—a tough task, especially since she was a Bruins fan and knew next to nothing about his team. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, and the fact that she didn’t seem to care made it even harder to keep his cool. Still, he couldn’t help but respect that she wasn’t one of those girls who swooned over him. It was... refreshing.

But still... there were nights, like tonight, when it hit him.

He couldn’t deny it—he was drawn to her. He loved their friendship, no question, but deep down, there was always that something more. That unspoken tension, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t ready to face it. Jack didn’t do love. It was just sexual tension, he told himself. It couldn’t be anything more. After all, Anja was a beautiful, young woman, and he was a ridiculously good-looking athlete. Of course, they had chemistry. But that’s all it was. 

And then there were nights like this, where his mind wandered off course, and instead of texting her—because that would be weird—he went back to his old habits. Hook-ups. Quick distractions. Just something to get his mind off things.

So, he picked up his phone and fired off a few texts. It was easier this way, he told himself. 

It wasn’t like he wanted anything serious with anyone else. He wasn’t looking for that. But sometimes, he just needed a reminder that he could still get attention from people. He still had that pull. Even if Anja didn’t feel the same way.

He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly healthy. But it was easier than dealing with the things that really mattered.

Five weeks since he’d met her. Four weeks since she had completely turned his world upside down. But that wasn’t her fault. He was the one who couldn’t seem to figure things out.

His phone buzzed almost immediately. But it wasn’t the message he was expecting.

A: Hey, Prince Charming.

Jack smirked, running a hand through his hair as he read the text. The nickname had started after their first friend date, when she’d looked at him with that amused glint in her eye and said he reminded her of a fairytale prince—all looks, maybe not completely dumb, but let’s be honest, not that smart either. He should’ve been offended, but for some reason, he fucking loved it when she called him that.

Another buzz.

A: So, that was a really shitty game. You sucked today.

Jack barked out a laugh. Jesus. He loved that this woman didn’t hold back. Everyone else always tried to phrase it in a way that wouldn't bruise his ego. Not Anja. She came at him full force.

J: Wow. Don’t hold back or anything.

A: I don’t do sugarcoating. You were bad. Like, painfully bad.

J: Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks for the reminder.

A: Anytime, Hughes.

Jack shook his head, still smiling as he stared at the screen. His other texts—the ones he’d sent out looking for a distraction—were sitting there, unread. He didn’t even feel like checking them anymore. Instead, he rolled onto his side, typing out another response.

J: So what, you just text me to roast me, or are you actually gonna make me feel better?

A: Oh, I was getting there. You’re a disaster, but at least you’re a pretty disaster.

J: Pretty disaster, huh? Wow, really boosting my confidence here.

Jack rolled his eyes, but a small smile spread across his face.

A: You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. You looked so sad out there today, I felt bad for you.

J: I don’t need pity. I need sleep.

He ran a hand through his hair, irritation creeping back in. The game had been brutal, and now he was staring at the ceiling again, the exhaustion weighing on him. Tomorrow’s practice would be hell if he didn’t get some sleep. His body was already aching from the game, and now this.

A: Oh, so now you want sympathy? Make up your mind, Hughes.

J: I’m just saying, I’m exhausted. And I’ve got thin walls here—Luke and Thea are having the time of their life, and I can’t escape it. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.

A: Ah, poor thing. Just not jealous?

J: Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is stick my dick in anybody. I don’t even know how Lukey does it. Guess being young helps… Maybe Thea was right about that stamina thing...

A: Jesus Jack! You really don’t have a filter. TMI! But…Well… I mean, if you need a place to crash, my couch is always available.

J: Wait, seriously?

Jack paused, blinking at his phone. He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or serious. But there was a part of him that was already considering it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night to himself that didn’t end with him staring at the ceiling.

A: Yeah, I’m serious. We’re friends. Even if this is painful for me to admit. And I live basically 10 minutes from you. Just come over.

J: …Wait, you actually want me to crash at your place?

A: Just don’t make me regret this, Prince Charming!

Jack chuckled. This… this was definitely unexpected.

J: Alright, fine. I’ll take you up on the offer. Thanks, Anja!

—

Jack stepped into Anja’s apartment, every muscle in his body groaning in protest.

His legs ached from the game, his mind was a chaotic mess, but right now, all he could think about was sleep. Real sleep. Not the restless, half-conscious tossing and turning that had been his last few nights. He needed to crash—hard.

And then he saw her.

Anja stood in the soft glow of the apartment, wearing loose, dark pajamas, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. No makeup, no effort—just her. Effortlessly beautiful, untouched by the outside world.

Jack’s brain stalled for a second.

How the hell was she this attractive without even trying?

He shook the thought away. It was exhaustion, right? Had to be. She was just… Anja. He was too damn tired to think straight.

So, Jack did what any man on the brink of collapse would do—he went straight for the bed, flopping face-first onto the mattress without asking.

Behind him, Anja leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know the rules. Couch.”

Jack groaned into the pillow. “Anja. Please. My body is broken. My soul is hanging by a thread. And that couch? That couch is where souls go to die.”

Anja snorted. “You’ll survive.”

Jack rolled onto his side, his eyes heavy with tiredness, but he still managed to give her a slow, teasing glance. "You’re seriously gonna make me crash out there when there’s a whole king-sized bed right here?" He patted the mattress like it was the most inviting thing in the world. "Come on, that’s practically a crime against humanity."

Anja lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are humanity’s crime.”

Jack grinned. “Thank you.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment.

Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. Name it.”

Anja smirked. “Anything?”

Jack nodded solemnly.

“I want—” she paused for dramatic effect “—a New York Rangers jersey.”

Jack’s face twisted in disbelief. “Okay, that’s just plain evil, darling.”

Anja smirked, knowing full well how much Jack loathed the Rangers. Her hockey knowledge was avarage, but she was well aware of the hostility between Jack’s team and their biggest rival.

Jack exhaled in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, new offer: I’ll make you breakfast.”

Anja let out a short laugh. “You can’t cook, Jacky. That’s basically a threat, not an offer.”

“Incorrect,” Jack said, giving her a playful look as he pointed at her.“I can cook. I just choose not to.”

Anja stared at him, unamused.

“Okay, fine,” Jack groaned, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I can make breakfast. Still counts.”

“That’s just eggs. And even those are awful,” Anja remarked dryly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, still technically breakfast.”

“Anja,” he said, voice grave. “I am a man at his lowest. My body is failing me, my will to live is fading, and you—” he pointed dramatically at her “—have the power to save me.”

Anja blinked at him, unimpressed. “You are so dramatic.”

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. “I prefer passionate.”

She rolled her eyes again, exhaling like this whole act was physically draining her, and for a second, Jack thought she was going to send him to the couch anyway. But then she let out a long, resigned sigh, shaking her head like she already regretted it.

“One night,” she said, pointing at him sharply. “And no funny business.”

Jack shot up like he’d just been given a second lease on life, already pulling off his hoodie as he practically dove under the covers. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Anja muttered something under her breath about regretting this already, flicking off the light as she climbed into bed beside him.

Jack exhaled as his body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding from his muscles. But just as his brain started to shut down, he caught it—her scent.

That unmistakable mix of orange and peppermint.

It was everywhere. In the sheets, in the pillows, in the air itself, wrapping around him and settling into his skin like a slow, creeping warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

His body relaxed instantly, but his mind? His mind did the opposite.

He wasn’t sure why this felt different. Why she felt different. Why, after all the nights spent in beds that weren’t his, this—lying next to Anja, stealing her blankets, breathing in the scent of orange and peppermint—was the only thing that had ever felt right.

He hated how much he liked it.

Jack turned his head toward her, voice low, teasing. “You know, if you let me stay in this bed again, I’ll compose an original poem just for you.”

Anja groaned. “Shut up, Hughes!”

Jack grinned. “A sonnet, actually. Or maybe a haiku—short and sweet. You know, something like—” He cleared his throat, pretending to get serious before continuing, “Shall I compare thee to—”

Anja rolled over, cutting him off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Enough,” she murmured, her voice light but warm, with a hint of something almost... hesitant.

Jack blinked up at her, his lips still pressed against her palm. The room felt different all of a sudden, as if the air had thickened. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe something else entirely, but the shift between them was unmistakable.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Jack could feel the heat of her skin against his face, and saw how her breathing slowed just a fraction, like she had only just realized how close they were. He should say something, crack a joke, break the silence. But for once, he didn’t.

And then—because he was Jack—he wiggled his eyebrows.

Anja blinked at him, like she was snapping out of a daze, and pulled her hand away, rolling onto her side. “You’re such a pain.”

Jack chuckled, stealing half the blanket. “And yet, here I am, still in this bed.”

Anja rolled her eyes, pulling her blanket back. “You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the couch. And honestly, how do you know what a haiku is? You didn’t even know that Germany and Switzerland were two different countries.”

Jack groaned, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. “I’m misunderstood,” he muttered, like he was truly burdened by it.

Anja laughed softly, the sound light and warm in the dim room. “Yeah, the real mystery, Jack Hughes. You’re dumb enough to confuse countries, but you’re cultured enough to drop haiku on me.”

“Hey,” Jack said, lifting his head and squinting at her with a playful grin, “I’m a complex man. Who loves literature.”

She rolled her eyes once more, but a smile played at the corners of her lips. “And that’s exactly what makes you so damn annoying.”

Jack smirked, sinking back into the pillows. “Glad to see you recognize my complexity.”

Anja sighed, still facing away, though Jack could feel the faint shake of her shoulders as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You really think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Jack relaxed into the bed, the warmth of her body and the soft sound of her laughter soothing him. “Oh, I know I have.”

Anja scoffed, but Jack could hear the smile in her voice. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jack smirked, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, I will.”

—

Jack sat at the kitchen table, staring down at his coffee like it owed him money. His head was pounding, and the goddamn world seemed way too fucking chipper for his liking. His body was sore as hell from practice, but it was nothing compared to the frustration buzzing through his brain.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, Jacky,” Thea chirped as she walked in, pressing a kiss to Luke’s head. Of course, Luke had to shoot her a goofy grin, like he was a damn golden retriever. Ugh. Disgusting.

“Shut up, pedo,” Jack mumbled, trying to sip his coffee without gagging. He didn’t care if his tone was off. He wasn’t here for their bullshit today.

Luke rolled his eyes, totally unfazed. “What the hell happened to you, man? You were all full of energy this morning—like, bouncing off the walls—and now you're just... this.” He gestured at Jack, who was hunched over the table like he was already dead inside.

Jack snorted, clearly not in the mood for a pep talk. “Maybe I’m just tired of people asking me why I’m an asshole. Get a new hobby.”

Yeah, Luke was right. He knew that. But honestly? He had way bigger problems right now. Like, Anja.

This morning had started off like some cheesy rom-com, and Jack was seriously starting to panic about it. He woke up, and there she was—her small, warm body tangled up in his, all soft and perfect. For a split second, he actually thought about kissing her—maybe snuggling, maybe even making her coffee. What the hell? When had he become the type of guy who fantasized about making coffee for someone? What was next, brunch? Fucking brunch?!

But, of course, it wasn’t until he was changing out of his hockey gear, post-practice, that he realized what a weird thought that was. He wasn’t exactly known for catching on to things quickly. He knew his flaws. But here he was, practically having a meltdown over the idea of wanting to snuggle.

And the worst part? The morning had been way too perfect for his comfort. Like, Anja didn’t even make the cuddling weird. Which, on any other day, would be a blessing. But now? He was thinking about her—and not in a “she’s a cool, funny friend” way. No, this was different. This was “I just woke up in her bed and I’m wondering if we should get matching coffee mugs” levels of insane.

They’d woken up, did the lazy morning cuddle thing—because apparently, Jack had no self-control—then they’d grabbed coffee. He’d cracked a few jokes about the news, she’d laughed like it was just another morning. And, damn it, it felt so normal. Too normal.

And then came the worst part: he kissed her on the cheek when he left. Like, a peck. And she blushed. She fucking blushed and wished him a good day like she was some picture-perfect, Hallmark-movie wife.

Did he just call her a wife? Oh, hell no. That couldn’t be a thing. He wasn’t ready for that.

He gulped down more coffee like it was going to fix this internal meltdown. The burn hit his chest, but the panic was still there. He had to shake it off. This was stupid. Anja was just a friend—no, not just a friend, she was a friend who he happened to share a bed with... and now apparently, his feelings? What the hell was happening to him?

Jack swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t him. He was the guy who had no problems keeping things casual, no strings, no feelings. But now? Now he was screwing up his own rulebook. Anja is a friend…just a friend!

Jack sighed dramatically, letting his frustration hang in the air like a thick cloud. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, alright? But I feel like a goddamn idiot. I’m not supposed to be thinking about this. I should be pissed about my game, but instead..." He rubbed his forehead, hoping it would somehow stop the mental chaos.

Luke, ever the observant little shit, raised an eyebrow. “So this is about her? Anja, right?”

Jack shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “Well, no, I’m talking about the weather, Luke. Of course it’s about Anja. Who else would it be?” He paused, then—BAM—his brain hit him with a sudden revelation. Wait a second—this was actually Luke’s fault. “Actually, this is your fault, you know. If you and Thea weren’t busy mating like a pair of rabbits, I wouldn’t have had to leave the house yesterday!”

Luke’s smirk was already five miles wide. “Man, just admit it. You’re into her. You’re all mopey and pissy because you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

Jack glared at him like he just insulted his entire existence. “Fuck off. I don’t do feelings. And I sure as hell don’t do snuggling.”

He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing he'd maybe over-shared just a bit.

Thea grabbed an apple from the fridge and plopped herself down on Luke’s lap “Snuggling? Snuggling? Oh, Jack, you are so gone.” She bit into the apple dramatically, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“You sure about that ‘no snuggle’ rule?”Luke teased, clearly enjoying the moment, as he lightly traced circles on Thea's exposed hip.

“Oh, Luke, do you remember what Jack said to Quinn?” Thea tilted her head, changing her voice to mock Jack. “‘Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro.’” She smirked. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

Jack groaned. “Oh, God, please, feel free to enjoy my suffering. It’s what you’re best at.”

Thea clutched her chest like she was watching the best drama unfold right in front of her. “Oh, I’m living for this. You know, those moments that are so painfully awkward and secondhand embarrassing that they keep you entertained for weeks? Jack Hughes falling in love—now that’s the kind of content I’ll be replaying in my head forever.”

Jack shot her a glare. He knew exactly what she was referencing. That was his line—the same one he threw at Thea when he caught her sneaking out of Luke’s room. Yeah, maybe he’d been a little too smug about it at the time. And sure, he knew she’d get her revenge eventually.

But honestly? Making his brother and his date uncomfortable had been way too much fun.

Jack would love to say he’d learned his lesson.

But he was way too much of an asshole for that.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy every moment of this,” Jack grumbled, grabbing the last of his coffee and standing up. “Because this will be short. I’m just gonna figure my shit out. No more cuddling, no more kissing her on the cheek like I’m some goddamn romantic. I’m not built for this.” He slammed his mug down with a little more force than necessary. “I’ll find some random girl tonight, bang her, and get over this. Problem solved.”

Luke just shook his head, his curly hair bouncing with the motion, falling in soft waves across his forehead. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Jack shot him an icy glare. “Shut up, Mr. Pedo Lover.” He practically growled as he stomped over to the sink, banging the mug down.

Thea and Luke exchanged a look, their smiles knowing. They didn’t even need to say anything, and it pissed Jack off even more. He muttered under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen, needing to get away before he said something even dumber. But in the back of his mind, his thoughts kept running. Fuck. What the hell was he even doing?

—

The music pounded through the bar, a steady, brain-numbing beat. Jack Hughes barely noticed, his attention fixed on his beer as he took a slow sip.

He was in trouble.

Not because of the game. Not because of a fight. But because, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t find a single fucking woman he wanted to take home.

And that was a problem.

A huge problem.

This Sunday night was supposed to be easy. A big win finally, a few drinks, a quick fuck. No strings, no thoughts, no mess. That was the routine. That was him. And yet, here he was, staring into his beer like it held the answers to his fucked-up brain.

It was Nico’s slap on his back that snapped him out of it.

“Come on, man! What the hell’s up with you? You’ve turned down, what? Ten girls already?”

“Four,” Jack muttered.

Nico laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not like you, Jacky boy. You sick or something?”

Jack grunted, smacking Nico’s hand away when he pressed it to his forehead. He took another long swig of beer, hoping the alcohol would do something—blur the edges, dull the noise, drown out her.

Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Anja.

The fucking Anja Syndrome.

Every girl, every goddamn girl, he measured against her. And every single one of them came up short.

Too blonde. Too tall. Too high-pitched. Too weird with her fucking drink.

It was bullshit.

Jack never gave a shit before. He didn’t care if they were tall or short, blonde or brunette. If they had a body and were willing, that was enough. And yeah, he knew that made him sound like a dick, but he was 23, a pro athlete, and he’d be an idiot not to enjoy the perks.

So why the fuck was he sitting here, empty-handed, second-guessing his entire goddamn existence?

“Come on, Jack,” Bas nudged him, nodding toward the bar. “That little blonde has been eye-fucking you all night. Give her some mercy.”

Jack glanced over.

Petite. A little too skinny, but she had pretty greenish-brown eyes and a face guys would probably call “cute.” She was fine.

She should be perfect.

But she wasn’t her.

Oh, fuck off.

No more of this shit.

This girl was hot, and she was ready to go. She was exactly what he needed to snap himself out of this bullshit.

“Perfect,” Jack muttered. Ignoring his teammates’ laughter, he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet.

With long, confident strides, he crossed the bar, slipping back into the guy he used to be—the one who didn’t overthink, didn’t feel. He flashed his best smirk, the one that melted panties before he even said a word.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he drawled, voice dropping into that low, rough tone that always did the trick.

The girl beamed. “Hey! Took you long enough.” She giggled, the sound high and grating.

Jack forced a smirk. “You know how it is—can’t ditch the team right away.”

He didn’t care about the small talk.

Didn’t want it.

He just needed this to work.

“So… wanna head to the back with me?” He made sure his tone left no room for misinterpretation.

The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Of course.”

That was all he needed.

He took her wrist, weaving through the crowd until they reached the back exit. He’d spotted the terrace earlier—quiet, dim, completely empty. Perfect for what he needed.

And the second the terrace door swung shut behind them, Jack wasted no time.

He grabbed the girl by the waist, pulling her flush against him, his mouth crashing onto hers with a force that had always been enough. His hands slid down her back, gripping, squeezing, searching for that familiar spark—that fire that always ignited the second he got a girl alone.

But nothing came.

Not even a flicker.

The girl moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing herself against him like she wanted to be devoured. It should have been hot. It should have sent a jolt straight to his dick, setting off that automatic chain reaction his body had perfected over the years.

But there was nothing.

Nothing except a creeping, cold frustration curling in his gut.

No. No, this was just in his head. He needed to push through it. He could push through it.

Jack deepened the kiss, tilting her head back as his hands roamed lower, his body pressing her into the brick wall behind them. He rolled his hips forward, desperate for his body to wake the fuck up, desperate for the heat to kick in, for the hunger to return.

Still nothing.

His pulse pounded—not with arousal, but with something dangerously close to panic.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle, threading her fingers down his chest, her nails scraping against his shirt as she reached for his belt.

"Let me take care of you," she whispered, voice dripping with suggestion.

Jack flinched.

His stomach turned.

It wasn’t her voice.

It wasn’t her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to snap out of it. He could fix this. He just needed to focus.

He dropped his head to the girl's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging in. He sucked at her pulse point, dragging his teeth over her skin in the way that usually made a girl melt against him.

She gasped, arching into him, nails raking down his back.

Jack felt nothing.

His body was like a fucking corpse.

Dead.

Unresponsive.

Refusing to play along.

And then, before he could stop it, before he could shove it back down where it belonged—her face flashed in his mind.

Anja.

That smug little smirk she got when she knew she was right. The way she tilted her head when she was listening to him talk, like he was the most interesting person in the world. The fire in her eyes when she called him on his bullshit.

The way her body had felt against his that one night when they slept in the same bed.

The way he’d spent every second since aching to feel it again..

Jack froze.

His entire body locked up, his breathing sharp and erratic.

The girl noticed immediately.

"You okay?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, hands still working at his belt. "Just relax, baby."

Jack jerked back like he’d been burned.

Baby.

She wasn’t her.

She would never be her.

And for the first time in his life, that mattered.

"Fuck," Jack breathed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The girl frowned. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I— I can't. I— This isn’t gonna happen."

Her expression flickered with confusion, then shifted into irritation. "Oh, come on. You just need a little—"

She reached for him again, her hand slipping down toward his belt, but Jack caught her wrist before she could get any further.

"No." His voice was firm. Sharper than he intended.

She yanked her hand back like he’d slapped her, eyes narrowing. "Seriously?" She let out a harsh laugh, crossing her arms. "What, you bring me out here just to waste my fucking time?"

Jack exhaled heavily, raking both hands through his hair. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were closing in on his lungs.

"You’re not her," he muttered, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Fuck. You are not her."

And that was the problem.

Her gaze darkened with annoyance. "Oh, so it's me that’s the problem?" She scoffed. "Classic. Maybe next time don’t bite off more than you can chew, Hughes."

And with that, she spun on her heel, shoving open the terrace door and storming back into the bar.

Jack didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His back hit the brick wall as he slid down, knees bent, head tipped back against the cold surface. His breaths were uneven, his entire body wound too tight, but still—nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching uselessly in his lap.

His body had never betrayed him before.

Never failed him.

And now?

Now, it was screaming the truth at him.

The truth he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

He didn’t just want Anja.

It was worse than that.

She was the only one who fucking existed.

And he was so. Completely. Fucked.

—

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The girl in the back. His body refusing to cooperate. The cold panic that had washed over him like a wave when he realized it wasn’t just that he didn’t want her—he didn’t want anyone. Not unless it was her.

Anja.

That thought hit him again. Like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He hadn’t realized how deep this shit went until now. He’d spent weeks trying to deny it, trying to make himself believe that it was just a phase. That he could get over it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Anja wasn’t just someone he was into. She was the one. She was it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. His mind was too loud. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Not right now. Not when his entire body was screaming one thing.

Her.

He reached the street and stood there for a second, trying to get his bearings. The world around him felt off-kilter. Everything looked distant, like he wasn’t actually here, like he was floating in some fucked-up dream.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his phone out. He tapped through his contacts and hit the taxi app without a second thought. He needed to get to her. Now.

His finger hovered over the ‘Confirm’ button before he pressed it without hesitation. He didn’t even care if he was drunk—he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t keep sitting with the fucking mess in his head.

He could already feel the buzz from the alcohol, the remnants of the beers he’d downed earlier, swirling in his blood. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except getting to her.

The ride felt endless. The city lights blurred outside the cab window as he stared at his phone, willing it to stop feeling like it was vibrating in his hand. His mind kept replaying the images of Anja—the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the sound of her voice when she laughed at his dumb jokes. God, even the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating made him want to crawl out of his skin.

By the time the taxi pulled up to her building, Jack didn’t know if he was angry, frustrated, or just scared shitless. Probably all of the above.

He handed the driver a few bills without even looking at the change, already pulling the door open and stepping out before the car had even come to a full stop. He jogged up the steps of her building, his hands clammy, stomach twisted in knots.

When he reached her door, he didn’t ring the doorbell. He didn’t wait. He just raised his hand and banged on the wood, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. He felt like he might pass out from the tension in his body, the anticipation clenching his chest tighter with every passing second.

It felt like forever before he heard the sound of footsteps. And then the door creaked open.

After a few seconds, he heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then the door cracked open to reveal a very unimpressed, very sleepy-looking Anja. Fuck she was beautiful. 

She blinked at him. “Jack?” Her voice was groggy, her hair a mess. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I—I needed to talk to you.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Is someone else dying?”

“No.”

She squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

Jack hesitated. “...A little.”

Anja let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Alright, go on then. What’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Jack opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then ran a hand through his hair because shit, this was harder than he thought.

“Okay, so—” He exhaled sharply. “Something happened tonight, and I think I’m broken.”

Anja raised an eyebrow. “Broken?”

“Like, physically broken.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Like… I had a girl—a very hot girl, by the way—practically throwing herself at me, and nothing. Not a damn thing.” He pointed at his own chest. “My body just—betrayed me.”

Anja stared at him for a second. Then, to his absolute horror—she burst out laughing.

Like, full-on, body-shaking laughter.

Jack scowled. “Okay, rude.”

“Oh my god.” She clutched the doorframe for support, laughing so hard she nearly lost her balance. “Jack, I swear, if you woke me up just to tell me you couldn’t get it up, I’m slamming this door in your face.”

“It’s not about that!” Jack groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, it is, but it’s also not.” He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Look, I was with this girl, right? And she was perfect—like, objectively, guys would kill to be with her. And I tried, I really tried—”

Anja snorted. “Poor girl.”

“—but the whole time, all I could think about was you.”

That shut her up.

Anja’s smile froze, her laughter dying in her throat.

Jack swallowed hard. “That’s the problem, Anja. It’s you. You’ve ruined me.” He pointed at her like she was some kind of criminal. “I used to be great at this. No thoughts, just vibes. But now? Now, I go out, I find a hot girl, I do my thing—except I can’t do my thing, because all I can think about is how she doesn’t laugh like you, or talk like you, or smell like you, or—fuck, Anja—hell, even the way she breathed just annoyed the hell out of me.”

Anja blinked. “...The way she breathed?”

Jack threw his hands in the air. “Yeah! Stupid, right?! But it mattered! And you wanna know why? Because she wasn’t you.” He let out a frustrated noise, pacing in a small circle before turning back to her. “I fell, Anja. Hard. And I don’t even know what the fuck to do with it, because I’ve never—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. His voice dropped, raw and unguarded. “I’ve never been in love before.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh again or take him seriously.

Jack exhaled loudly, raking both hands through his hair. “So, yeah. I’m here. I’m standing on your doorstep like a fucking idiot, telling you that I’m gone for you. And I don’t even know what I expect you to do with that information, but I couldn’t not tell you, because keeping it inside was making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears as he watched Anja process everything he just blurted out like an absolute lunatic.

Then, slowly, she started smiling again.

And then—yep, there it was—she was laughing again.

Jack groaned. “Oh my god, Anja, I’m baring my soul here!”

“I know,” she gasped between laughs. “That’s what makes it so funny!” She wiped her eyes. “Jack Hughes, king of hookups, showing up at my door at one in the morning to tell me he’s emotionally constipated and in love with me? This is gold.”

Jack scowled, crossing his arms. “I take it back. I don’t like you anymore.”

Anja just grinned, stepping forward until she was standing right in front of him. “Too late, idiot.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

She was close now. So close that he could see the tiny freckles on her nose, the way her lips curled just slightly at the corners like she was still fighting laughter.

Then, before he could say anything else, she reached up and flicked his forehead.

“Ow,” Jack muttered, rubbing the spot.

Anja smirked. “That’s what you get for waking me up.”

And then—finally—she tugged him down by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him.

Jack froze for half a second before his brain caught up.

Then?

Then, he kissed her back.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It wasn’t a fleeting thing. This was everything he’d been missing, everything he didn’t know he wanted. The warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the unmistakable scent of oranges that clung to her skin—it was intoxicating. He couldn’t breathe without it. Without her.

When they finally pulled apart, Anja’s smile was wide, like she’d just won something precious.

Jack blinked at her, heart pounding. “So, just to clarify… you like me too, right? This isn’t just, like, a pity kiss?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the affection in her gaze was clear. “Yes, dumbass. I like you.”

Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his entire body sagging with relief. “Oh, thank God.”

She laughed again, the sound like music to his ears, shaking her head as she pulled him inside.

And just like that, Jack Hughes—the guy who swore he'd never let anyone in—was completely, hopelessly lost.

—

It took Jack three months to finally introduce Anja to Luke and Thea. Not like he didn’t want to shout it out to the world the very next morning after his drunk love confession that Anja had said yes to be his girlfriend. The thing was, saying those words had felt strange, almost surreal for Jack. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a real relationship—maybe back in high school? But high school felt like a lifetime ago. And back then, relationships were fleeting, brief. Nothing like what he felt for Anja.

But after meeting Anja, everything started to feel different. Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt when he kissed her, when she smiled at him, when they were together, just the two of them. It wasn’t about sex, and that was the biggest shock to him. Every relationship he’d had before had always been tied up in physicality—chasing the high of the next touch, the next kiss, the next night. But with Anja, things were slower. The chemistry was undeniable, but they didn’t rush into anything. They took their time. And Jack was fine with that. 

So when Jack finally brought Anja around Luke and Thea, it felt like a milestone. They immediately clicked with her and both of them could see how well Anja handled Jack’s sometimes overly confident, sassy nature. Anja, in her own calm, collected way, knew how to ground Jack. She didn’t put up with his antics, but she didn’t try to change him either. They balanced each other out perfectly. Jack made Anja more confident, and she made him more humble. The shift in him was noticeable—his arrogance softened when she was around.

Things between Jack and Anja were effortless, natural. They’d fallen into a rhythm—hanging out with Luke and Thea, then slipping into quiet nights together. They’d binge-watch their favorite shows, wander around town grabbing food at random spots. But as their connection deepened, so did the tension—the unspoken feelings Jack wasn’t ready to confront.

Anja had made it clear she wasn’t in any rush, but Jack noticed a flicker of impatience in her over time. And he understood why. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to mess up what they had by diving into something physical, especially after everything he’d been through. Every other relationship had been based on attraction, and they’d all ended in disappointment. This time, he wanted something real. He wanted something that could last. He cared too much about Anja to risk ruining it.

Then came that night. After a double movie date with Luke and Thea, the evening wrapped up with everyone saying their goodbyes. Anja had laughed with Thea all night—joking and teasing like they’d known each other for years. Jack watched them, captivated by how easy and natural it all was. And more than once, he found himself just staring at Anja, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky to have someone like her in his life.

As Luke and Thea headed off to their room, Anja turned to Jack, her smile soft but knowing. She stepped into his space, her body warm against his as she slid under his chin, leaning into his chest. Jack’s breath caught, his heart rate picking up. The scent of her perfume only made everything more intense.

"Hi," she said, her voice low, playful.

"Hi, baby," Jack responded, his smile matching hers, but there was something more beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face, his fingers grazing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She was up to something.

Anja’s fingertip traced small, slow circles on his neck—light, teasing touches that were enough to make his body respond before his mind could catch up. "So, I was thinking..." she said, her voice filled with mischief.

"Dangerous thing to do," Jack teased, his voice rougher than he intended, heat already pooling in his chest. He could feel his body weakening.

Anja giggled, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Shut up, you."

Jack grinned, but his thoughts scattered. Her touch was like fire, and it was hard to think straight with her so close.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was an edge to it now—something more vulnerable, something Jack couldn’t ignore. "I’ve missed you these last couple of days. Your schedule’s been all over the place, and I’ve been working late shifts... It’d be nice to just snuggle with you. You know, wake up next to you."

Jack’s brain short-circuited. The thought of waking up beside her, of having her close, overwhelmed him. Just the way she said it—her words carrying something deeper—made his heart race. He couldn’t focus on anything else. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sly smile on her lips, the gleam in her eyes—it all made it clear she wasn’t just asking to stay. She was asking for something more.

Jack kissed her temple—soft, quick—before answering, his voice unsteady, without thinking, “Sure, Jaja. That sounds amazing.”

"Thanks, baby," she said lightly, almost singing the words. "I’ll just grab one of your T-shirts for PJs and take a quick shower."

Before Jack could even process it, Anja jumped up from his lap, leaving him sitting there alone, his mind racing. She was leaving him spinning, and he had no idea how to catch up. He tried to steady himself, but his thoughts were already scattered, caught between what he wanted and what he was afraid of.

“Minx,” Jack murmured under his breath, leaning back into the couch, running a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he wasn’t ready to play along—not yet. Anja deserved more than a rushed moment while his brother and his girlfriend were just down the hall.

Still, the thought of her in his T-shirt, of her curled up beside him, made it hard to resist.

—

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think about anything else. Hockey stats. The weather. The existential dread of taxes.

Then the bathroom door clicked open.

Jack’s head snapped up.

Anja stepped out, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders, darkened from the water, strands sticking to her collarbone. His breath stalled in his chest as his gaze drifted lower, catching on the oversized white T-shirt she’d chosen.

His T-shirt.

The fabric was old, worn thin from years of washing, clinging just enough to show the shape of her body. It barely covered her thighs, teasing at modesty—but when she moved, the dim light made the cotton damn near see-through. And under that shirt…nothing. Not even a pantie.

Jack’s grip on his phone tightened. Hard.

She knew what she was doing.

Anja smirked, catching the way his dark eyes flickered over her before he forced them back up. The way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. She crossed the room slowly, stepping onto the bed, crawling toward him with deliberate slowness. Her fingers traced over his bare arm, featherlight, enough to make his breath hitch.

“You know,” she murmured, tilting her head, “I could have brought my own pajamas.” Her smirk widened. “But this just felt… better.”

Jack swallowed hard, his back pressing against the headboard like it could somehow create space between them. He needed to slow this down. He needed to say something—anything—to keep himself in check.

“Anja…” His voice was low, rough, a warning.

She didn’t let him finish.

Curling up beside him, she let her lips graze his jawline, barely a whisper of contact. Jack went still, every muscle in his body wound tight. Her breath was warm against his skin, her presence intoxicating, impossible to ignore.

“Relax, Hughes,” she teased. “I know what I want.”

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He wanted to touch her. Badly. But if he did, there’d be no going back.

Anja’s fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, her nails tracing faint patterns across his stomach, slow, exploratory. “I want you, Jack,” she whispered against his ear. “Not just the careful version of you. I want all of you.”

Jack clenched his jaw, tilting his head back, fighting for control.

“Anja…” he ground out, his voice thick with restraint, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She shifted, straddling his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t I?” she challenged, her gaze locked on his.

Jack knew that look. The same one she’d given him in the bookstore the first night they met—the night they sat there, arguing over War and Peace, the night he’d felt something shift inside him. That knowing, unwavering gaze.

“I saw you, Jack,” she said softly. “Not just the cocky hockey player everyone else sees. Not just the guy who acts like nothing gets to him. I saw You. And I think—no, I know—that we are perfect for each other. So stop fighting. Stop being afraid that being yourself will chase me away. I trust you. With my heart, with everything.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear, her voice a breathless whisper.

“So take me, Jack.”

Jack’s restraint snapped like a frayed thread.

His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her against him. With a rough growl, he flipped them over, pressing her into the mattress, his body caging hers in.

His lips crashed onto hers, all heat, all desperation. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was every moment he’d held back, every time he’d wanted her and hadn’t let himself have her.

Jack’s hand slid up, fingers curling around her throat, firm enough to make her breath hitch. His grip wasn’t tight—just enough to remind her who was in control. He crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue sweeping inside, swallowing the soft gasp she let out.

Anja rocked her soaked core against his thigh, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging, demanding more.

Jack pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath ragged, lips swollen, self-control slipping fast. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Luke and Thea are in the other room. And you won’t be quiet if we start, darling.”

His eyes locked onto hers—one last chance to stop him.

Anja arched up, pressing her body flush against his, nails scraping down his back, making him suck in a sharp breath. Her smile was wicked, teasing. “Pretty sure we’ve both heard enough of them to know they’re not exactly holding back.” Her lips brushed his ear, her voice pure sin. “It’s our turn.”

Jack’s smirk was slow, dark—pure fucking trouble. That cocky, self-assured look that had driven her crazy since day one.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her throat, making her shiver. “You just opened Pandora’s box.”

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

IS IT MINE? (Connie x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Connie Springer x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Connie doesn’t take too kindly to you, his pretty little bimbo girlfriend, chatting up his team during an interview after his big fight. But lucky for him, he has many ways to show you how to correct your mistakes and prove to him that you’re his-his favorite little trophy.

Warnings: No Titans AU; Boxer!BF!Connie x Bimbo!GF!Reader; Public/Locker Room Sex; Mirror Sex; Teasing; Cock Worship; Degradation; Facial Abuse; Hair-Pulling; Choking; Face Slapping; Cum/Spit Play; Connie is a Dirty Talker AND a Muncher; Pussy-Drunk!Connie; Multiple Os; Doggystyle; Cum-Drunk!Reader; Mating Press; Daddy Kink; MDom!Connie x fsub!Reader; Some Spanish; Multiple Creampies & Cum-Shots

Writer’s Note: I had this idea after listening to Leon Thomas' ass for over a week now lol. This was originally gonna be a Sukuna one-shot, but then I decided to do someone I haven't done before after falling down the AOT rabbit hole again: MY CONNIE. Enjoy! -Jazz

************

“C-Connie, please! I-I…ah! I said I was sorry!”

The young UFC fighter standing at 5'9 and most definitely taller than your short stack ass has you pushed against the wall, one of his knees wedged between the cushiony, soft, plush inner thighs that he so loves to kiss, bite, and love on when he isn't training for a fight.

You should've known better than to have worn your favorite (and his favorite) fiery-hot red mini dress to his big championship match. The kind with that buttery-soft material that feels like silk against Connie's fingers as he glides them down your beautiful, delectable, pudgy body and has a low cut so your tits are damn near popping out of your push-up bra.

But it was a big event tonight! Televised and everything! You wanted to look nice for your man and the cameras, so you pulled out your sexiest along with some red heeled mules, Fenty Gloss to make your lips nice and juicy, and Connie's oversized leather jacket because he just LOVES seeing his baby wearing his clothes.

Once backstage and in the hallway near the backrooms, he damn near ripped his jacket off to explore your body with his hands, calloused and bruised from the previous fight and years of training. His lips heatedly caress your exposed neck, nuzzling into the scent of your sugary whipped cream-scented body mist, as he leaves sloppy kisses there.

“Oh, so now you’re sorry,” he huffs. “You definitely weren’t when you were chattin’ up my fuckin’ trainer.” He pulls away from your neck to instead kiss your pouty lips, caressing your chin and rubbing his knee up against your satin panties...which he's pretty sure is a thong.

The way that thing behind you was moving tonight as you went to your seat in the VIP section near the boxing ring was just too damn noticeable. He damn near lost focus in the ring going against his opponent because he was too busy watching you-his baby; his love; his cutest little fan.

You were in the stands cheering him on alongside Eren, his trainer and best friend, Armin, Connie's assistant who swears that he isn't, and Reiner, Connie's agent. You had a sign and everything. "I decorated it myself!" you proudly exclaimed when he swooped you up after the fight, sweaty and tired, but you enthusiastically kissed him anyway, the cameras all in your face.

You truly are a prize. The prettiest trophy to behold. Not even Connie's new championship belt can compare...though it did feel nice to knock that cocky Russian fuck out cold and hear the countdown before the final bell rung. He had been training for this fight for months, sometimes missing out on dates with you, but that he would make up for with some heated sex and cuddling sessions.

You understood. You always understood. You truly are a trophy...and others seem to know it too. Why else would Eren, Armin, and Reiner be chatting you up backstage during Connie's interview?

Right in his face.

And you were chatting right back, smiling that big, pretty smile and flaunting those pretty tits that Reiner and Eren had major eyes on. Especially Eren, the disrespectful fuck.

“I bet you loved his eyes all over this,” he growls. He takes a handful of your ass, laying it flat on the juicy cheeks with a smack that echos throughout the empty hallway. “And then my agent comes waltzin’ over to tell you how pretty you look.”

Connie was simmering mad. It's bad enough those motherfuckers flirt with every pretty girl that comes their way, but with YOU?! Did they do it just to get on his nerves? To make him sweat during his interview?

And when you gladly conversed with them and giggled at their compliments, it took everything in him to not throw the damn microphone at Reiner's head and crash out on everybody. Unfortunately for Connie, he is a major hot head and your fine ass don't make it no better.

One could say he is possessive. Another could say he is obsessive. Either way, he doesn't play about you. Especially when it comes to other men. He knows how sweet you are and he knows that men can take advantage of that.

But this is one of those times where you're just too nice and you need to be taught lesson about who the fuck you should be smiling and giggling at. “I-It was just a compliment!” you whine. “They know I’m with you, Con!"

Your nails, glittery and bejeweled for tonight's event, drag down Connie's tan skin, defined, muscular back, and toned arms roped in ink. How you love his tattoos. You've always been a sucker for them plus the brow pierced, the lip ring that adorns his plump bottom lip, and his buzzcut. It is all supposed to be intimidating, but it turned you on the first day you met him at the gym when he helped you reach a towel.

Connie hums in a disagreement, gently nipping at your bottom lip. “Clearly not. And clearly, you don’t either.” He pulls away to give you a smile laced with wickedness and seduction. It makes you weak in the knees. “So lemme remind you, baby.”

Your pretty, brown eyes widen in alarm. "O-Out here?" you whimper. You look down the hallway, barely even hearing the commotion backstage of other interviews and cameras snapping photos.

Connie gives you a confused look, his brows furrowed, and then begins to laugh. "No, silly girl!" he cackles, giving your ass another squeeze. "I'm not tryna be arrested for indecent exposure. It's bad enough I get caught free-ballin' today."

His hazel eyes glow with mirth and you feel yourself flush as he grinds himself against your core. The hot-headed, quick-witted fighter is known to leave your crib and go straight to a stadium without his underwear. Today was no different. He left your apartment at drawn, leaving you with a sweet kiss, and arrived to the stadium in just his shorts...nothing underneath.

So, of course, the cameras caught the outline of his big dick swinging around underneath the thin basketball shorts...not that you complained. You love it when people thirst after your man.

Your eyes tick down to his shorts now, straining to see the prized possession underneath: thick, pretty, tan cock that he has made very clearly is yours and only yours.

Connie notices your eyes gazing downward and grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Oh, you wanna see?" he teasingly asks. "Fuckin' little slut. Bet that's all you were thinkin' 'bout while I was in that ring."

He pushes you farther into the wall, pressing his harder, toned body against your softer, plushier one. "Bet you wanted my shorts to fall down so you could see that big cock on the full screen." His lips glide down the side of your neck to trail down to your chest, pressing kisses to the soft tops of those tits.

"Connie," you whisper. Your panties have begun to grow tight and uncomfortable against his knee, signaling your arousal. But then again, you were aroused when he nearly flew from the interview table and pulled you away from Eren and Reiner, dragging you down the hall to his dressing room.

Seeing Connie fight always gets you wet. You love how fast and strong he is, determined to win. He takes his fighting very seriously and has made himself known in the UFC world as a capable boxer. Seeing him punch noses and clock jaws has become sort of a kink of yours. Something about the brute strength he possesses and the aggression.

Aggression that you'll probably be getting tonight. "Lucky for you, baby, this is all for you." Connie takes your hand and presses it against his bulge that has begun to harden. You exhale, shuddering at the hard, pulsing, throbbing outline of his dick. You're practically salivating...from your mouth AND your pussy.

But just as quickly as it happens, it's done and Connie tears your hand away from his dick and pulls you off of the wall. You let out a little gasp as he drags you over to the door to his dressing room, yanks his key out from under the door, and unlocks it.

SMACK!

He gives your ass another hard smack that makes you squeak and your pussy throb. "Get the fuck in there," he growls. You do as you are told, quickly walking into the lavender-scented room with its royal blue walls, snack tables, private locker room and shower, and comfy furniture.

Connie shuts the door behind him, not even bothering to lock it. No one is coming in here. You stand there in the middle of the floor as he tosses his jacket aside and saunters up to you in his shorts, clean tee, and sneakers. You feel like you have been shot with a tranquilizer dart: you can't move an inch.

Your boyfriend finally makes it to you and yanks you to him by your hand. Your body reacts in excitement at being snatched up like that, your nipples hardening and your pussy twitching in your panties. Being so close to him and smelling the sweat and cologne in his skin doesn't help.

"Ya looked so pretty fa' me tonight, baby," he coos, one hand on your waist while the other caressing your cheek. "It...was all for me, right?" You melt from his touch, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. "Y-Yes, Papi," you whimper out. "Of course, it was. I only wear these clothes for you."

Only the tightest, shortest, skimpiest, sexiest clothes for your man. Your style of choice is considered "bimbo-ish" in general, but you love it and so does Connie. He doesn't care at all about what you wear. In fact, he implores you to wear the shortest skirts and lowest tops to give dudes a taste of what they will NEVER have.

"Aww, baby," Connie coos. His eyes fill with adoration for you. "You almost make me want to not punish your ass." His smile fades and you feel your stomach flip over. "Bend over that fuckin' couch."

He nods over to the plush couch sitting just a foot away from you in front of a full-length mirror that captures everything that is happening and will happen. Obediently, you saunter over to the couch and bend over, your back arched and your arms gripping the back of the couch.

Your body stifles when you feel fingers caress your spine, gliding down your back over the soft fabric of your dress. "What's the fuss, mama?" Connie chuckles. "It's just me. You got nothin' to be afraid of."

You gulp as you feel him peel your dress up to expose your plump ass in your thong...but not just any thong. "A G-string?!" he scoffs. "I knew somethin' was up with this dress. You needy little minx."

SPANK!

The first swat on your ass is a surprise and harsh, the loud clap of his palm hitting your right cheek echoing throughout the room. You flinch at the harsh, fiery sensation, but you know you'll have to get used to it because it isn't the only one. The next two are just as rough.

SPANK!

SPANK!

"Ow!" you shout, gritting your teeth at the fire licking across your ass from your boyfriend's assault. "Connie, wait-"

But you can't finish because your boyfriend is sitting down next to you and tossing you over his lap. You gasp as you fly over his legs right onto his groin, your ass tooted in the air for him. "Sorry, baby," he chuckles. "You got me excited. Can't help how this ass makes me feel."

And then his hand is coming down onto your butt again, making it glow and damn near putting his handprint on the soft, brown globes of fat that he just loves to touch, kiss, bite, lick, and massage every chance he gets:

SPANK!

SPANK!

SPANK!

Or in this case, smack. “You take those spankings like a champ, mami,” Connie coos. “That’s my girl.”

Soft moans and whimpers fly from your lips with every harsh hit, tears springing into your brown eyes and wetting your lash line. "Oh, fuck!" you sob. "P-Please stop, Con! It hurts!"

Connie pauses, smirking down at his pretty baby pulled over his lap with her ass all glowy and sore. "Yeah?" he teasingly asks. "Then why is your pussy so wet for me, huh?" You go rigid, realizing you've been exposed for the slut you are.

You feel Connie's hand wedge between your thighs and you moan as it glides against the soaked spot of your thon. "You think I can't feel you rubbin' yourself against my dick, puta?" Your heart leaps at the degrading name. You love it when Connie speaks in his native tongue. He tsks, shaking his head. "Guess I'll have to try more drastic measures."

He harshly pulls you up to look at him, his eyes aglow with lust and a noticeable tent in his shorts. He begins to strip you out of your dress, dragging the slinky thing down your body after pulling the straps down your shoulders. "You don't get this dick that easily, mama...not till you give me what I want." And you know exactly what that is.

Suddenly, he has you on your back and your thighs open for him, your G-string and your dress discarded on the floor. The only thing he has left on you are your shoes, your pretty, pedicured toes peeking out of the mules.

Connie gazes down at the gorgeous, glistening, brown lips before him, salivating at the very sight of you. He sighs, giving you the impression that he has been waiting for this. "I've won so many awards, but none are better than this pretty lil' pussy." And he means that. You know he does.

There is no more talking once his pierced tongue is inside of you and his hands are pinning your plushy thighs apart, his fingers caressing your stretch marks as he sucks, licks, and devours your cunt. The cold metal of his tongue ring melts against your hot, soaked pussy, somehow stimulating you more.

You writhe and shiver under his ministrations, one hand gripping the couch while the other grasps his scalp for dear life. "O-Oh, my God!" you choke out. "Oh, Papi, please! Go faster! You're so good at this, fu-u-u-ck!"

You are loud and unable to keep your voice down, but neither one of you cares. You are both too deep in the throes of pleasure to care about noise. Connie moans into your wet pussy, loving how sticky you are and how your ass cushions his chin as he laps away at your juices. "Mmm-hmm," he mumbles. "You had the nerve to flirt with Eren even though we know damn well only I can make you feel like this."

You whimper at his criticizing words, your pretty lips wobbling. "I-I wasn't-"

"I'm sorry, baby," he interrupts, giving you an apologetic look as he takes his thumb and rubs your clit. "Lemme correct myself: maybe you weren't flirtin' with him, but he was definitely flirtin' with you." He stares up at you, his eyes angry. "And I don't like that."

His tongue cascades down to your asscrack, licking up the trail of juices that slipped down there. You damn near scream to the heavens as his tongue caresses the sensitive little hole between your ass before he travels back up to your pussy, gently sucking on your lips. "Oh, shit!" you moan.

You're seeing the entire galaxy behind your eyelids while Connie is busy indulging in your soaking pussy, taking as much as he is giving. "Nobody fucks with what's mine," he growls. "And this is mine...isn't it?"

He pauses, stilling his thumb on your clit. Your body twitches in desperation, needing to cum. "Yes!" you sob. "Yes, Papi, it's yours! I'm fuckin' yours! Please make your baby girl cum!" You feel Connie smile against your pussy before going back to lapping at your cunt while he rubs your needy button in semi-circles, making your hips buck and your core tighten.

It doesn't take long for your orgasm to crest, rising to the surface like the sun rising over a grand sea. With a loud moan that steals the air from your lungs, you cream all over Connie's panting, pierced tongue, spilling your nut all over his soft lips and chin. But he doesn't eagerly lap it up or talk you through your orgasm like he usually does.

Instead, he sits up, wipes his mouth, and stares you down hard. You stare at him, confused and slightly scared of his intense glare. "W-What are you doing?" you pant. "Why'd you stop?"

SMACK!

Connie's hand slaps against your soddened, wet cunt, making you yelp from the sensitivity. "Cause you've seemed to have forgotten your place. You listen to me and I didn't say you could cum...yet you did it anyway."

Your stomach twists, realizing your mistake. What if he doesn't fuck you now? Or what if he fucks you dumb and fills you up with his spunk without letting you cum once? Or what if he makes you cum over and over again without a pause or a break to bring you to tears and pleas to stop?

He leans in toward you, squeezing your cheeks between his hand, making your lips pucker like a fish. "Now, what do you think I should do about a brat like you, huh, mama?" he whispers, cocking his head to the side. "Should I fuck you into submission?"

A tiny, shuddery exhale leaves your lips, one of hope. But then he clicks his tongue, making a sour face at you. "Nah; I'd like to fuck that slutty ass mouth first. That mouth just loves to chat up dudes that it shouldn't."

He keeps his intense, all-ablaze eyes on you as he yanks on the drawstring holding his shorts up. They tumble down his tan, toned thighs, revealing his Armani boxers that he pulls down his V-line in one swift motion. He strips off his shirt with one hand, pulling it over his head by reaching behind his neck to grab the collar.

Soon, he is completely naked and stands before you, his glistening muscles, tan skin, and tattoos on full display. All for you. Your hands and lips ache to touch, kiss, and lick him like a lollipop...especially the pretty dick hanging between his thighs. Thick. Curved. Dripping in pre-cum. Bobbing, throbbing, and hard all for you.

Your boyfriend wordlessly helps you stand and gently pushes you down onto your knees. Your eyes widen at his cock twitching in your face. "Con-"

"Ah-ah," he tuts, pressing a finger to your lips. "Shut up and open that pretty mouth for me, mama. No words. Just worship this dick since you wanted it so bad." He gives you a cocky, crooked smile that makes your stomach flip-flop and your cunt throb. Damn pretty motherfucker.

Unable to resist him or his delicious cock, you spread your lips and wrap them around the shaft while your hand wraps around the base, gently stroking in time with your sucking. Connie watches your pretty, pink lips stretch around his dick as you take him in your mouth, your head bobbing slightly as you do.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip at the wonderful feeling of your soft lips and wet tongue caressing every sensitive spot of his cock, coating it in your spit. "Dis mío, baby," he groans. "You're so pretty down there." He slowly pulls out, groaning as he does when he catches the string of spit that connects his head to your bottom lip.

"Ya like suckin' Papi's cock?" he asks as he gently slaps his head against your pouty, glossy lips and your soft cheeks. You slowly nod, your eyes hooded and seductive. "Yes," you whimper. "I love it, Papi."

Connie shivers, loving it when you get this slutty for him. It means you're just as horny for him as he is for you. He grabs the back of your head and directs you back down his cock. "Yeah, Papi knows you do," he coos as you swallow him whole. "He knows you'd never intentionally try to fuck with him. Sometimes, slutty bimbos like you just need a little...redirection."

As your throat begins to open around him, he takes that as a sign to begin fucking your throat. Really fucking it. Like it's a toy. He grips your hair and rolls his hips, filling your mouth to the brim with his dick as his head just passes the threshold of your sloppy, tight throat.

"Fuck!" he loudly groans. "Look at her. Look at that sexy lil' thing in that mirror." You shift your eyes slightly to the right where, sure enough, the mirror plastered against the wall behind the couch catches sight of the nasty sight it beholds.

You almost don't recognize yourself as the curvy girl with all of her rolls, stretch marks, and love handles on her knees before the stud who is plunging his cock in and out of her mouth, luscious moans and swears in Spanish dripping from his lips.

"Who's that gettin' her face and her makeup fucked, huh?" Connie grunts, still fucking your mouth and making you gag as you stare. You. It's you taking that cock like a champ with spit dripping down your chin and your mascara slightly caking your lash line.

"You love this rough shit, don't you?" Connie chuckles, staring down at you in adoration. "Damn, babe, you must be REALLY horny." You are. You can't help but rock your hips as you grind your pussy against the floor in an effort to relieve yourself.

"Mmm-hmmph!" you mumble around Connie's cock. With a soft groan, he pulls himself out of your mouth, his dick now slick with saliva. He tilts your chin up to face him, nearly giving you whiplash. "You wanna ask me somethin'?"

You swallow the spit and pre caught in your throat before finally finding the energy to speak. "Please fuck me, Papi?" you softly question. "Will you please bend me over and fuck me? I need you so badly."

You begin nuzzling your face against his hard cock, pressing soft, teasing kisses along the shaft. "Please, please, please," you whimper. "Please fuck me." You suddenly feel the cock against your cheek stiffen even more, the one, large vein trailing from the heavy, cum-filled balls to the tip pulsing in need.

Suddenly, Connie has you on all fours in front of the mirror and he is mounting you from behind, his cock gently slapping against your soft, jiggly asscheeks. You stare at your boyfriend in the mirror, noticing how his brow is furrowed in concentration and sweat has collected between his jiggly pecs.

"Don't look away from that mirror till I say so," he demands. "I want you to watch yourself get fucked dumb in that bitch." And then he's sliding that dick inside of you, making your velvety, wet pussy walls stretch around his length. It jolts your senses awake and draws a loud, longing moan out of your and Connie's mouths.

His hands grip your soft hips as leverage to draw himself in and out of you, going at a steady, slow tempo at first. But then, once the need builds and slow isn't ideal anymore, he speeds up his thrusts until his hips are slamming against yours and clapping sounds drift through the air like a goddamn audience is applauding.

Your mouth falls agape on various moans, squeaks, and whines as your boyfriend fucks you in doggystyle, giving you backshots like it will be the last time he will do so. "A-Ah!" you gasp. "Oh, my God, Connie, yes! Fuck yes, fuck me! Fuck me just like that!"

Connie grins at you in the mirror, loving how your titties and ass bounce and jiggle with every thrust of his hips. "Yeah? Like this?" He props one leg up and proceeds to nail that spot in your pussy that makes you see stars. "Is that what my mama likes?" he grunts. "Is that what she needs?"

You can't even speak. Your mind is mush, only melting more and more as your clit becomes overstimulated from Connie's balls slapping against it every time he pistons himself forward to fill your pussy up with his cock.

One hand grips one of your titties, massaging it in his palm, with the other grips your asscheek for dear life, jiggling it in enjoyment. "God, this fuckin' pussy," Connie pants. "I'd give up all the fuckin' trophies for this every single day forever, baby. You know that, right?"

Yes, you know. And you know he means it. That only makes your need increase and your moans grow louder and more intense as his fucking speeds up until he is rutting into you. "Connie! I'm gonna cum soon!" You can feel your second orgasm rising, but you hold out. You need to cum only when he says so.

Connie laughs at you, loving how desperate you've become as you bounce on his dick. "Eager lil' bitch, ain'tcha?" he chuckles. He wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing it firmly as he continues to plunge himself inside of you. "Go 'head and cum for me, baby. I've got plenty more to give you. Cum for me now."

At his growly command, you come undone on his cock, shivering and shaking as your pussy quivers around him. You know that anyone outside of these walls can hear you, but you find yourself not caring. You can't when you feel this good.

"Fuck!" Connie groans, fighting for his life in your pussy. You feel too good stroking him with your walls, nearly draining the cum out of him. He forces himself to pull out and wetly strokes himself against your ass as your cum drips out of your pussy and down your thighs."Not yet," he grunts. "Gotta make sure you understand who you belong to."

He suddenly pushes you down onto the floor, chuckling when you squeak in surprise. "Put that fuckin' face in the floor, bitch." Your cheek smushes into the carpet as he sinks himself inside of you again, nevermind that you just came and your pussy is quite sensitive.

He begins fucking you rough, hard, and fast again, mercilessly nailing that spot that makes your eyes roll back and tears soak your lashes. Connie leans down to hear you make those pathetic whines as he drills your shit, his lips nibbling at your earlobe. "Whose is it?" he groans into your ear. "Whose pussy is this, mama, huh? Is it mine?"

You don't know how you're able to answer. Your brain feels like it has left the building. "Yes!" you whine into the carpet. Connie grips you up by your chin, forcing you to look at yourself and him in the mirror. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. Tell me that again, nice and loud."

Your eyes roam over his tan skin and muscles glistening in sweat. His tattoos. His intense yet loving hazel eyes gazing back at you. "Yes, Connie!" you shout. "Yes, it is! It's yours! I promise it's all yours!"

A slow, wicked smile stretches across Connie's face and he cracks his neck as if he's about to go into a fight. "Oh, I'm gonna fuck you up now, baby."

And he does. The man puts you through the damn wringer, fucking you in every position he can. When he finishes making you cum by drilling your pussy with your face down and your ass up, he tosses you onto the couch and fucks you in missionary, his hips drilling into yours, your legs up and your pretty heels dangling over his broad shoulders.

This is the position that is the end for Connie. He can't help the way your jiggling titties, brown nipples, soft tummy, and big, brown eyes make him feel as he fucks you dumb and gives you deep dick in the couch, making the both of you moan loud and so unabashed. He needs to cum for you. "Gonna cum!" he warns you. "Gonna fill this pussy up!"

You let out a simpering moan, feeling another orgasm rising to the surface. You hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Keep lookin' at me," he practically begs, his face flushed and eyes hooded. "Look at me while I fill you up, baby."

You have no choice but to ride the wave with him as he fucks your cunt faster, chasing his high. When his body tenses and his eyes roll back, showing the whites of his eyeballs, you know he is done for. With a low, long moan of pure yearning and release, he cums deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his spunk finally. His orgasm tries another (fifth? Sixth?) mini orgasm that sends tremors throughout your body.

Connie groans as he pulls you to him, sinking his cock as far as he can go just so he can ensure that his cum stays inside of you for a bit longer. "And you'd better not clean that up," he huffs into your ear. "Let it drip when we walk outta here later."

You whimper as the aftershocks kick in, making your body tremble slightly. Your boyfriend holds you close, gently talking you through it. "That's it, baby, let it out," he coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I love you so much."

You feel your heart skip a beat at his proclamation. No matter how many times he says this, you will always react as if it is the first time he is saying it to you. Once you find your voice, you embrace him back despite your sweaty, sticky body. "I love you too, Con," you giggle. "Even if you are insane."

Connie laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, sweetly ending such a rough, hot fuck session. After some more kissing and aftercare snuggles with you sitting in his lap, Connie gently pats your ass to get you to stand. "Now let's get you cleaned up before people come lookin' for us."

Click.

Abruptly, you and Connie look towards the door where, sure enough, you see shadow figures underneath the slot under the door. You gasp, quickly snatching up Connie's jacket and covering yourself with it just as the boxer tugs on his shorts.

He storms over to the door and opens it, revealing none other than his trainer, his agent, and his assistant in the hallway. Caught red-handed. "Or not," Connie finishes. "Fuckin' perverts."

Armin grows as red as a tomato. "I-I was just coming by to tell you that CBS wanted to talk with you," he stammers, doing his very best to not look at you.

"I-It was his idea!" Jean cries, pushing Eren in front of himself and Armin as the first one to get pummeled. "He made me be the lookout! I swear, I'm innocent!"

Eren is as cool as a cucumber, even giving you the eye as he stands right in Connie's face. Those intense, teal eyes... "That's a fat ass lie, but I don't regret shit," he scoffs. "Personally, it was a treat hearin' your pretty girl make those noises."

Connie punches him in the chest, making Eren laugh while he rubs the harsh spot. "Fuckin' asshole," he huffs.

He turns to you, making sure to stand right in the way of the ogling trainer as you grip his jacket closer to your luscious body. "Maybe if he's good and starts respectin' me, I'll let him join us next time."

It is a joke and you know it is...so you don't let your boyfriend or his trainer see how much that turns you on.

THE END.

[impish-baby]

which of your familial yandere’s do you think would best handle a moody teenager? I’m definitely a fan of the fics where the reader is cute and obedient but I never see much for the older agere’s 😭

This ask is so cute- apologies if I made teen regressor! reader too stereotypical, I just found it funny

Valerian: wants to be a cool parent so bad but they're old-

They do not care for most modern technology but they're sitting there with their reading glasses trying to google all the current lingo and what's hot with the kids these days, will definitely come up to you asking why your generation is into certain things (boomer but times 10,000, they've been alive centuries)

It's a good thing for you if you're into certain alternative fashions because Valerian's wardrobe is stocked full of choices for more goth or lolita looks! They never mind sharing, they're more than happy to have you giving their pieces another life (maybe will be a little miffed if you decide to use something for a DIY without asking first, but they get over it fairly quickly and immediately turn to fawning over your work)

Tentatively let's you go out to concerts and different things, with a chaperone of course! They will not hear any moaning over you being old enough to go by yourself, you're still their baby and need someone to make sure you're safe! (Don't think you'll make any friends though, for some reason everyone avoids you like the plague..)

Rowen: does not stop talking about when he was in a band in high school, you could like a totally different genre of music and he still chats about it because he's (admittedly poorly) trying to connect with you

He's dealt with two other kids before, so attitude problems are no stranger to him! He never takes anything personally, but will threaten to take your door if you keep slamming it (never actually does, he just finds it to be the most annoying part) I think he'd get you lots of journals and self help books just because he knows how difficult and large emotions can be at that age

Unfortunately, you're still not allowed to go anywhere unless you're willing to make it a family trip! None of his kids are allowed in town without him, and sneaking out isn't really an option when he (not to mention your siblings) can out pace you easily. You'll get locked up in the den for the effort though :p

Sylvia: She... does not do well with teen regressors (._.) She tries her best of course, but is very used to babies/toddlers

Her first thought when you're in a mood is that you're throwing a tantrum and she'll start to treat it as such, which does the opposite of helping because it just feels like she's making fun of you-

She messages her coven apologizing for her own teen years..

Eventually, figures out that things go smoother if she takes on more of a big sister role instead of a motherly one. Is very much into gossiping and watching TV together (still doesn't let you watch anything too 'inappropriate', she frowns anytime there's even a mild curse)

Thoren and Rune: *sniffles* they grow up so fast.. they're both sad about their fledgling deciding they're oh so mature and broody

Rune has a habit of mimicking you, annoyingly enough. The deep sighs, eye rolls, he finds it funny how much it bothers you (and despite your efforts, he can tell you also find it humorous sometimes, no feeling escapes the bond)

They mandate cuddling, not that they didn't before, it's just worse now that you act like you're too good for some snuggles from your sires! It doesn't matter how much you fuss about it, you're being dragged into the nest one way or another

My personal ranking for this group best to worst is: Rowen, Thoren and Rune, Valerian, and lastly Sylvia

[claws-and-all]

This isn't a very eloquent list, but:

🌹 I'll start at the beginning... A beast... a grumpy beast grieving the loss of a friend (Mentor? Lover? Employee?)... already, I love him!

🌹 Then we see his High Fae form and idk about you, but all my life, lotr elves have been the epitome of beauty and etherealness. And he reminded me so much of that 🫠

🌹 Now personality wise, a broody dork with the weight of the world on his shoulders ... I'm down bad crying at the gym... I know a lot of readers like that egotistical, sassy, snarky male vibes, but I can only handle it in moderation. So this broody boy was straight up my alley. Combine that with his negative rizz and "Your hair is... clean"... SOLD!! 😅🥺 (Seriously, love that line 😂)

🌹 A man who could have taken the easy way out but chose to stand against tyranny and fight for what's right ... I feel like books these days severely lack "heroes". Personally, I'm not a fan of goodie two shoes characters, BUT Tamlin's a great example of I will fight for what's right but still do everything in my power to save you. And that's just 🫠🫠 (also *cough* dragging Beron by the neck *cough* 🥵🤤 ALSO saving Lucien!! Harboring him, giving him a job!!!)

🌹 The fact that he ended slavery, takes in refugees from other courts and celebrates their festivals, and if the tales are to be believed, harbored humans that were from the children of the blessed and treated them well. ... HOW DOES ANYONE NOT LOVE THIS MAN?????

🌹 One of my favorite things about him is how he values life. From personally burying the blue fairy to feeling guilty about slaying the Naga. It shows that his heart is still soft despite the hard manner in which he was brought up. I think it's such a precious and underrated aspect of him.

🌹 Another major thing is that despite how wronged he was, he still put aside that hatred and saved Feyre and her crew and then Rhysand. I don't think I could ever have such forgiveness in my heart for these characters and what they did to him. It was such a big move from him that it baffles me why fans still hate him to such a degree.

🌹 And lastly... his carefree side. From the fiddling to the swimming to the limericks. I love that artistic side of him. A man with such rough edges but somehow a great musician, a poet. Ugh I wish we saw more of this side of him 🥺🫠

🌹 Okay, one more thing, they always say the best leaders are the ones who do not want the job. Whilst I don't think Tam is the best leader, I do think he truly is a good one. You just don't get citizens willing to sacrifice themselves for a tyrant. That alone tells you they respected him and believed in him. But more so, when your court is completely destroyed and you still manage to inspire people to fight under you. I was truly impressed that Tamlin showed up with a small army in the Hybern war! 👏👏

🌹 Okay, last, last one. He was romantic 🥺🫠😍 I found it so hilarious at how much he did not want to date Feyre. But all those moments, from the rose garden to showing her the fae world, the "Just a glen", the willow o wisps 🫠🫠🫠🫠 it was magical and beautiful and I feel like the rest of the series lacks that. Also, during these moments, you see him going from someone who wasn't interested to someone falling hard and fast and 😭😭😭😭 he deserves better man!

In conclusion, a hott dorky yet romantic man with the heart of gold who will still rip the throats of their enemies (with his teeth 🫠🥵)

can anyone who’s also in love with tamlin please reblog this with the things you love about him? I’ve seen too much negative merch recently and it’s depressing me

[politicalunicorn]

Thoughts on Captain America: Brave New World

It wasn't that bad. Lots of people are saying that it sucked, and yes, I was hoping they would do something more interesting with the adamantium but c'est la vie.

The villain was definitely really scary. I think the direction choice of showing us individual people that The Leader was killing is arguably one of the best choices. I found several moments where I genuinely looked at the screen and gawked.

That being said, the villain felt almost cartoonish. Like? C'mon. that phone call with Ross was just... it felt like a my little pony villain, bsfr

JOAQUINNNN MY BABY!!!! We have been LACKING for Peter Parker-coded characters, and he is definitely one of them. I love the way people are calling him baby falcon, bc yes, but also the mentor-mentee relationship between him and Sam???

On that relationship, Sam and Joaquin have the relationship of siblings with a massive age difference. Like eight years at least. Joaquin idolizes Sam and Sam is fond of him, but teases him as well. It's just so cute.

SamBucky nation is winning. Enough said. The I love you was one thing but the "He's also 102 years old" like, ok??? gatekeeping your man?? ok, I see you Sam <3

I did not empathize with Thaddeus Ross. Maybe, if they made him a shittier father, yes I would get the whole new leaf thing. But making his entire arc of bs in the last fifteen years be about Betty was just...not it. Make him have more to prove.

Also the writing of the phone call? Please. I know Marvel writers can do better than that.

this is just a problem with film-making in general, but marinate in the silence. a lot of life is silence, real-life exists in the margins of conversations. like that conversation between Bucky and sam could've definitely had that silence to really pull that impact.

the fight scenes tho??? that was so good, that was acc such good choreography, OBSESSED.

Bucky as a congressman is something that I really like, but was unexpected. I can totally imagine him trying to make the world a better place, but we're probably going to get that guilt-complex justification that marvel always pulls with Bucky.

The Isiah arc?? that line of "Don't Come Back" was SO good. Also, his face when he was shoved into the ground and his cries about his suit, was HEARTBREAKING. just absolutely gorgeous. arguably the best acting performance.

Sabra??? Kind of unnecessary??? like, the black woman (I don't remember her name, sorry) that was Sam's friend in the White House would've had a better role. It would've also been an interesting way to analyze what it meant to be a black woman in the Red Room.

also, if we WERE going to analyze sabra as a character, what does it mean to be Israeli in the red room? I am not a huge fan of boycotting someone based on their identity, because you can't really change where you come from, but we could analyze the status of the ethno-state in the larger marvel universe if we could.

I really wish they had pushed the political intrigue storyline, so much harder.

we do want bruce banner back tho. specifically the insanely lovable version of him in Avengers 1.

I wish they'd make the dialogue more natural

the avengers plot line could've been tied in better?

TLDR: It was a really good movie, with some writing issues and some brilliant performances and some beautiful relationships.

[ssentimentals]

Hello! Happy Valentine's Day, Sunshine! I hope you're having the best day! I wanted to know if I could request the secret relationship prompt with Reader x Joshua for your drabble contest? Thank you! :)

awww happy belated valentine's day, dear! hope you're having the best day too <3 of course you can, thank you so much for requesting! 💜

prompt secret relationship

that's not what he had in mind. joshua grimaces at the sight of you walking through the back door. his hand misses your warmth instantly and not for the first time since he started dating you, he curses his fame. he's grateful, of course. he is infinitely thankful for all the love and support and opportunity to do what he loves, but this world is not a perfect place and he pays his price for all this spotlight fully. not being able to hold your hand, show you around, kiss you in front of everyone - that's part of the price he pays.

'josh? your turn!'

he goes on stage with a practiced smile which is not fake because he is sincerely happy to be here. but when he comes out of it, when he sees you climbing into the van with a cap and a mask on, surrounded by two body guards, he kind of hates everything. joshua waves to everyone and makes sure to thakn every single member of staff before getting into the car and sliding door shut.

'you were amazing out there, dear!' your support is always the sweetest. it's sincere, it vanishes his tiredness and lights up his heart. you take off your mask and reach out to him, smiling. 'i'm so proud of you, josh.'

at moments like that joshua wants to cry. the guilt sits heavy in his soul because god he is also so proud of you and the only thing he wants is for an opportunity to show it to everyone. you deserve attention, you deserve that kind of attention as well - the one where all cameras are pointed at your figure, when people are screaming your name. it angers him that he can't provide it to you; when his arms wrap around your body, bringing you close, he sighs loudly. 'i love you so much,' joshua whispers into your hair, adjusting you so you sit right on his lap the driver be damned. 'wish you were with me.'

you huff, kiss his cheek and lean back, cradling his face in your hands. 'i was there with you, baby.' you counter, smiling.

joshua shakes his head. 'you were at the backstage hidden from everyone. that's not fair.'

you pause, looking at him intently. it never occured to you that joshua is that bothered by the whole 'secret relationship' thing - you both knew clauses in his contract, both agreed to still give it a try being very careful. it surely is not your ideal scenario but you know it's only for a year and then you two are free to announce your status for the whole world. it seemed reasonable back then and while this is not your ideal scenario, you got used to it. and maybe that's what is clawing at joshua's heart the most - how you just got used to it.

'everyone thinks you're my close friend,' he rolls his eyes, sounding incredibly bitter. 'fuck, i'm so- i'm so tired of it. just want to always hold you like this,' he hugs you tighter.

'time will come, babe.' you assure him although your voice cracks at the end. god, you want all of him too, not just the bits behind the scenes. 'you shouldn't worry about it.'

it breaks joshua's heart how sincere you are. he leans his head to your shoulder and sighs. 'i do not deserve you,' he whispers, kissing your skin tenderly. 'i do not deserve you at all.'

'stop this nonsense.' you try to sound stern but at the sight of joshua's sad eyes, you melt. 'baby, please. it's- well, it's not okay but i promise i can wait few months more.'

'i will do the hardest of all hard launches in the history with you,' he promises, making you giggle. 'i will get on the roof of my apartment, my fans will gather underneath and i will just scream that you're my girlfriend. i then will-'

'dramatic much?' you ask, laughing. 'josh-'

'you deserve the world,' he mutters hotly, bringing you so close until it's hard to tell where you end and he begins. 'i will make sure you'll get it. i promise, angel.'

you smile gently, leaning in to kiss him. secret relationship is not your ideal scenario but joshua makes it so, so worth it.

a/n: i literally saw this in a dream aldfhksdjs, hopefully you'll like it! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen works are here

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Weekend Ramblings

Thame·Po Episode 10

Yeah, I'm late but my brain was not working properly on friday, so, now works. Congrats on the sex! I love this friend group so much. This episode was a lot. First of all Baifern needs to go touch grass. I did appreciate that the show went there, all things considering, but she made me mad. And not that I needed more proof, but Po is a better person than me. Also I hate Pemika and this whole thing around idols and dating. It's insane, but obviously eventually the company will come around, cause glass houses and all that. The PepperGam noble idiocy thing was a bit whatever, although still heartbreaking, but I'm hoping this means that our mains won't follow in their footsteps. This show is as close to perfection as I have seen from gmmtv in a while, so let's not ruin it. The best part was definitely seeing the group supporting each other. The hand holding at the press conference had me all emotional. I'm giving up on screaming at Thame. I guess since they were technically already caught, he's not bothered. Not that he acted like he ever was. Thame and Po continue to be them. I just love how even through all this, they keep checking in on each other.

GelBoys Episode 2

Never has a show made me feel so ancient. Also this show is a massive reminder of how much I absolutely hated all that love drama in high school. I had zero patience for it. Obsessively rereading messages, overanalysing every word to find some hidden meaning, wondering, Does he actually like me? Honestly, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. And on top of that, I’m beyond grateful that I didn’t have to deal with any of it in the era of smartphones, social media, selfies, apps, and so on. So much angst. I guess playlists are the new mixtapes. It's certainly easier. I continue to really like the atmosphere, it feels very grounded. And although I like Fou4Mod, I adore Baabin, so I'm not a huge fan of the way Fou4Mod is using him to make Chian jealous. Like since he's his bestie, he could've at least been honest. I'm sure he'd be on board. And I know he's gotta learn this for himself but, Fou4Mod, sweetie, this is a terrible idea. You are going to be crying a lot on that train in the future. But, I mean, who hasn't done that before?

Perfect 10 Liners Episode 17

I got YothaGun and PondSand. What a joy! I really could watch Perth do anything but seeing him being the biggest love sick puppy is a special treat. Faifa seems to have a bit of a savior complex, which we kinda knew but it's pretty obvious now. I love characters that hide their pain behind a smile, and he's so kind on top of that, so of course I love him. I also liked that he noticed Wine's overall mood and checked in with him about boundaries. I'm hoping Wine can break some of his walls and perhaps teach him the word 'NO.' I'm thinking maybe we won't get a side couple this time because we have enough couples to check in with, in between FaifaWine stuff, but we'll see.

The Boy Next World Episode 7

First of all, it was great to see Thorn/Tong again, I keep forgetting this is part of the TharnType Universe. As I said last week, BossNouel can bring it in those scenes, but I still feel like I'm watching RainPhayu. Now Cir, you had to see this coming, no? I mean you only had like a million chances to come clean. I feel bad for Phu, but I gotta say, last week I thought he might have an inkling about this, but maybe not?Now…for that ending and the preview. So not multiple universes, but something else is going on. He's dissociating. I'm intrigued and worried if they will land this part of the story. It seems we'll be getting our beloved amnesia trope and I'm so excited about it. Honestly I was thinking maybe he doesn't really have amnesia and he's faking, but wouldn't that be a bit much, all things considered? I mean, they’re going to end up together, so I’d really love to not completely despise Cir by then. The second half of the episode was strange though, pace wise. It felt a bit disconnected, and rushed. Part of it might be intentional, given Phu's state of mind, but it still felt weird to me. The sides are kinda cute, although I must admit, Wim gets on my nerves a bit. That dude must end each day with a tension headache. Like seriously, he's so tense it makes me stressed. And also, why is he so annoyed by Jin?, cause like he listed a bunch of stuff but honestly I don't see it. Wim needs to forget about Cir for 5 seconds and focus on something else. This animosity feels a bit forced.

Sangmin Dinneaw Episode 8 [Finale]

I honestly don’t even know where to start. I’ve come to expect a certain level of whiplash from this show, but this was on an entirely different level. We went from child abuse and murder plot straight into that cucumber scene. I can’t even begin to imagine the thought process behind it. This was a roller-coaster, and not in a good way. That said, at least we finally got a storyline where a guy gets revenge on his abusive parents, so that wasn’t terrible. But the fact that the hotel dude didn't get run over is unfortunate. Now that it’s over, I genuinely don’t know what to say. The main couple was cute enough, and the sides were decent, but overall, this whole thing was a mess. Honestly, the ending was the only part that felt even remotely normal. And still I'm not sure about the amnesia. But who cares? Most of this makes no sense and I'm not gonna waste any more time trying to figure it out.

[colorfullyminded]

Talking with a friend about Hunter!Wirt (Pinescone Addition)

@vacz told me to tag them, so here we go. These are some of the more innocent things we talked about-- thank you @xovera-toz for listening to my rambles as usual.

• Not gonna lie-- Dipper matches his freak. Like that boy is curious, pen at the ready, new journal to jot down all the data about Hunter!Wirt and the unknown. Wirt is a little flattered to be the sole subject of a journal, and tends to find himself curled up near Dipper, looking over his shoulder, or head in lap as Dipper writes his daily findings.

•Some of the things Dipper has noted. "Has a habit of Biting. Painful, but also followed by apology licking/grooming. I'm embarrassed to admit I enjoy this more than I should" "Is possessive-- but I once put a hit on a man, so I'm not one to talk" This one was directly from @xovera-toz: Wirt's nonexistent tail wagging because he saw Dipper writing "affectionate" in his journal page

"Watership Down/Monty Python Bunny. Looks innocent/is feral underneath... but also Looks Dangerous/Is Shy and Sweet underneath."

"He's a Freak :heartpulse: :heart: :two_hearts:"

"Very nice to snuggle With-- though tends to not let me leave once he's comfortable" "Scared of abandonment and rejection. Will take a lot of time and patience and trust to work through-- I have my Work cut out for me." "Has threatened to disembowel me if I leave...turned it in my favor (No I will not elaborate) ^((A/N: I can actually elaborate-- but it's a little more mature))

• In most of my Pinescone, my Ford has beef with Wirt for no other reason that it makes me laugh, and Ford being overly suspicious of Wirt (cause my Wirt can be a bit of a sneaky bun bun), as well a critical because he just wants the best for Dipper (even though Wirt is the best. It's a long process of Ford warming up to Wirt-- the way Ford acts around Wirt, is the way Wirt acts around Jason Funderberker). But in this au, now Hunter!Wirt is more dangerous-- more deranged. A lot more aggressive, and it's openly on his sleeve. He actually can hurt Dipper (and has in his excitement/affection). Ford: How could you date something so unstable!? What could be possibly going through your head! Where did this come from? Dipper: (looking at Ford, knowing this man dated Bill Cipher) ...Gee, I wonder....

• Despite sometimes the uncertainty, or stability of Wirt, Dipper can also see underneath he's just a scared boy, desperately trying to be a good brother-- and you know Dipper has a soft spot for good sibling figures. Even though he's aware Greg isn't in the lantern-- he plays along. Example: Wirt waking up and finding Dipper reading to 'Greg' He was only supposed to nap-- he didnt want to be weak and vulnerable-- didn't want to leave his back turned. He woke up frazzled, and panicked-- turning to look for Dipper, expecting him to be gone, or trying to kill him in his sleep. Instead he finds Dipper reading to 'Greg', showing the lantern his journal as he talks about all he's uncovered about his brother.

• Dipper braids Wirt's hair like he learned how to do with Mabel, sometimes putting flowers in it, as he whispers praises and gentle words of comfort. (Mabel has also done a few different hairdo's with Wirt's long mane-- Wirt often feels like a small dog getting fluffed up in those moments, whereas with Dipper it's a little more relaxing with someone who matches his anxiety).

• The both aren't the biggest fans of baths, but they work through it together, Dipper often guiding Wirt into the bath, and usually distracting each other, by talking for hours. They both end up a little prune-y, and a little cleaner-- even if the water is a bit swampy when they get out.

• ((Slightly more suggestive for older Pinescone)): Hunter!Wirt: W-what if I lose control? What if I bite you? What if I I tear you apart in a frenzy? Dipper: ...promise? Hunter!Wirt: !!!! ??? (Not sure how to feel about that reaction)

• Housewife Dipper helping to make this cabin a home, as he softly studies Wirt and the unknown, while balancing the usual ups and downs that comes with his field of intrigue. He's a lot like Jane from Disney's Tarzan. Fascinated-- a bit afraid, but more willing to learn and understand. And the more he does- the more endeared he becomes.

((And those are some of the ideas-- I haven't even gotten into the Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde au portion, but let me know if you want to hear more?))

I'm a little flustered after everything-- I hope you enjoy >///<

[vryfmi]

[major book spoilers]

my favourite concept that i barely see in l&co fandom being talked about is Lucy grieving Skull. whether you see their relationship as platonic or ship skullyle, it's stupid to deny the fact that Lucy grew to care about Skull, her actions in epilogue being the heartbreaking glimpse into the new reality for her and her friends after the events of TEG:

“I don’t know why you insist on having it with us for each meal.” (Holly) “It’s that horrid charcoaled skull Lucy insists on carrying around with her.” (Holly) I’d wrapped it up and taken it home, and kept it with me ever since, just in case.

here i want to say that im not a fan of idea of Skull eventually "coming back", re-materialising. it defeats the moral of Lockwood & Co and the growth that Skull underwent. past is meant to stay the past, living can only learn from it while dead will forever exist there. no one should disturb the dead, the past, it needs to be left at rest and let it hold its memory.

Skull wanted and longed for freedom, at first defined by breaking out of silver-glass prison, but later, very clearly defined by the peace of mind. he was scared of death as much as Bickerstaff was, that's why Skull turned his back on the other side, he chose to stay here, in the world of the living. i always read his decision to save both Lucy and Lockwood as him admitting that he could never be a part of the living world (cough could never compete with what lockwood, alive boy, could give lucy cough), so he pushed the two away as he stayed in the room with Marissa, Penelope and Ezekiel.

to me, the best ending to Skull's story is him passing on his terms, not the explosion destroying his connection with the source, but contemplating what he sees himself doing after Lucy suggested him staying with L&Co. Skull declines her offer. and chooses freedom.

obviously, that's my reading and how i prefer to interpret L&Co's ending. (it's also the reason i can't accept that christmas special as canon, im sorry, i hate happiness).

but that leaves Lucy and her newfound need of keeping skull near her at all times since Fittes HQ explosion, her wishful thinking that he'd come back. and i want to see her go through painful acceptance of losing Skull. losing a someone that she never got to know closer. losing a chance to get to know him as a friend, to admitting to have found a friend in Skull, a kindred spirit. losing someone who understood her and knew her deepest fears because these two deeply traumatised teens were so alike. losing something that she chose to define herself and her worth by. Lucy would have to come to terms with how much of a support system she had in Skull. and now, she'd have to navigate without it.

Lucy makes a remark that i can't stop thinking about.

Whenever I put my fingers on it, I got no psychic charge. The bone was dry and cold.

i could go on a rampage theorising why Lucy can't feel anything despite a) her having a strong Touch b) objects that are not sources are still able to hold strong psychic echoes. but i feel like Stroud was trying to wrap up the story and didn't want to introduce a whole new storyline of Lucy picking up fragments of Skull's past. which is a shame. i would kill for such story to be told. (please hit me up if you do.)

but say she really can't pick up anything, Skull is gone and there's not a psychic trace left of him. where does Lucy find herself then? constantly checking the skull with all her senses, wishing to see a green spark dance around the (former) source, to hear a whispery insult in her ear, to feel just anything with her touch. but it's all gone. there's nothing left. no one left. everyone else is moving on, hurries Lucy to get rid of that horrid old bone, but how can she? how can she bring herself to get rid of the only thing left? the only thing left on earth to remember a nameless boy by? the boy who could've been her friend, but she failed to trust him? failed to say thank you?

with each passing day Lucy’d feel worse because she knows how she looks to her friends, to agents, to the ones saving London from violent visitors every night, putting their lives on the line. and here she sits, wishing a ghost to appear in her attic room when she's the most vulnerable at heart.

bonus points for Lucy picking up a pencil and trying to recreate the boy she saw on the other side on paper while the memory is still fresh, while she still remembers. (but also, if we view books as Lucy's memoirs, it would make Skull's bare-bone description even more sad because that would mean older Lucy forgot the details).

what im trying to incoherently say is, Lucy would grieve. and having read almost all of the books Stroud wrote, i see that he has a very intimate relationship with grief and mourning the loss of someone dear to the point where he explores different sides and intensities of it, how each of his characters goes through it, in every single book of his. (i believe, i have three more books of his to read).

p.s. i don't want to be a hypocrite so here are fics about lucy grieving skull that i love to bits:

- i'm still painting flowers for you by terryh

- echoes by menina123

- it isn’t the same (but it is enough) by bluejay_07

- don't wanna go, but it's time to leave by fourohfourerror

[gvshing]

•·.·''·.·•Clingy Ellie•·.·''·.·

masterlist

I think Ellie would be clingy. She would have to be cuddling every single night to fall asleep. And not just spooning. I’m talking facing each other, hugging so tight that a constant pressure can be felt in your chests. Breaths fanning against each other, her ear pressed against your chest so hard she could not only hear your heartbeat, she could feel it beating against the side of her head. Legs interlocked, tangled in all types of ways.  When gaming, because let’s be real she would be a gamer (Possibly even a twitch streamer, the constant yelling at kids is the norm for her) she would have you stay in the room with her. She doesn’t want to be apart if she could help it. She would move her setup wherever you needed. You wanted to lay down in bed? Great. She’s lugging that big ass PC setup into that room and planting her ass. Living room? Give her just a minute, she will be there. Snacks sat in her gaming chair that she’s lugging into the room. Balancing the snacks ever so gently, as to not have them flinging everywhere when the chair inevitably swivels around because she’s got an awkward hold on it.  She’d always ask to take you to work on her days off so she can see you as long as possible before you go in and be able to see you as soon as you’re off. She’d still pout about having to get up in the morning so early, but she’s pouting more if she’s not the one seeing you off.  She loves eating all meals together. Breakfast, lunch, dinner or snacks, she’s there right next to you, eating right alongside you. She loves getting to cook with you, even if she’s not the best at it, she burns at least one thing every single time. Which at some point becomes impressive. How does she burn something and she’s just making cereal? She doesn’t know either. The stovetop got smacked ever so slightly and all of a sudden the box of cereal is turning black and smoking. But she swears she has no idea how that happened. Cooking and baking is her favorite thing to do with you. She stares at you lovingly as you scuttle around the kitchen gathering all your materials. She helps by doing the dishes and that’s all you can ask truly. You shower together, take out trash together, work out together, and when you’re not working out you’re still planted right behind her as she works out, probably staring at her ass and admiring her physique. There’s very little you’re not able to do as a duo. You guys do everything you possibly can together, your friends love her and her friends love you. So why be apart? 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Kinda not great lol my brains been in a fog and not creative. I hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

[corner-in-corner]

Imagine Jinrang gang, living slice of life comedy away from chaos of first generation

notes: I didn’t checked any spelling, everyone is just silly, references and minor spoilers to fighting manga Kengan Ashura (this whole Busan Arena stuff is so kengan-coded)

Jinrang loves watching old detective shows with cool, unemotional mc. He used to watch them with Gapryong and always tries to act just as cool. But while he keeps a serious face around others and just untalkative by nature, he can’t help but laugh at almost anything when he's with his gang members.

Jinrang drops the most cringe wolf quotes ever existed straight-faced and Jungseok supports him in this and laughs as hard as the boss. Baek’s love and respect for Jinrang is unmeasurable, but this part of his is unbearable.

This trio in a nutshell:

Baek Sang, getting in fight with Hwang Jungseok over anything. Baek is the most hated in the group because every woman turns her attention to him as soon as he appears. On Valentine’s Day, he even brings bags of chocolates he received to share with his beloved Hyung-nim, but instead of gratitude, he gets beaten by the rest of the gang who got nothing. And Jinrang was the one who punched him first.

Hwang Jungseok tells the dumbest things with the most deadpan face. Nobody is sure if it’s a joke or he is serious.

In his mind, he believes that he’s actual #2 of Jinrang gang

Jinrang doesn’t know they have a hierarchy

Hyun Baekjin is a otaku and hardest K-pop fan you can ever imagine. Jinchan Kang became his successor because he recited all songs of his favorite group by heart. With all movements.

This scene was legendary, Shin Arim filmed it and sent it to higher-ups

Jinrang is that one friend listening to Hyun’s blabbering, not understanding a shit in his words. Hyun appreciates the support of his interests, but in reality Jinrang just spaces out

Whenever Jinrang starts to think that his gang is full of idiots (and he’s the dumbest of them) he goes to fishing. In the middle of the night and always bringing tons of fish for fishermen as gratitude for letting him use the boat and the biggest shark afterwards for the gang.

Fishermen’s favorite boy, btw

Nobody can explain how he catches these ridiculously large sharks and nobody knows what to do this with this ass fish in the middle of the office. Baek is offended by the shark, so the boss has to calm down his right hand

Jaegwang Do and Hashik Song try their best to look cool in bars, hoping to impress women. They even start learning to ride a motorcycle, convinced that it will make them more attractive.

Hashik Song worries a little (a lot) about Min Jihoon’s height, so he makes him eat tons of beans after reading that they help with growth. He proudly calls himself Jihoon’s "dad," while Jihoon is the "officially adopted" son of his, the fact accepted by gang. Nobody asked for Jihoon’s optinion on this.

Nobody asked Jihoon’s opinion when Shin Arim called himself “older brother” of Min Jihoon. Jihoon’s opinion was ignored when other heads also “became” his “older brothers”

Overall, Min Jihoon is a gang’s little boy

Park Hyukjin is introverted and homebody, always pushing himself to go to another gang gathering

Hyun forced the gang to read manga ongoing by selling it to Jinrang because of underground fights. Baek gets in a fight with Hwang for trolling him when Akoya lost to Cosmo (he bite his leg but wasn’t able to chew like Akoya did)

Jinrang won the bet on the Tournament winner. Everyone chalked it up to being the Champion of Arena

Too excited, gang held a tournament of Busan Arena

Guess who was the winner.

The “Wolf Lance” Jinrang.

[you-and-him]

HIII HERMIT First of all, how have you been?? This is my first time asking and especially to someone I've admired for their work for so long eee! But I hope things are doing fine for you!!! If not, please keep your chin head up high because we're here for you! Especially fans and such >:D

Sorry for the hold up but here's my actual ask! Recently I've been curious about the other members (Iloveyouadamplsdontkillmehahahh) but what really caught my eye was Ethan the most! I really, realllyy like his overall vibe and wanna know more about him! A few facts will do since he hasn't left my mind after the prologue. 👉👈

I hope this is okay for a first ask hehe

Thank you! I appreciate the support so much! 💙

BUT ALSO FINALLY. A BEST BOI ASK (Ethan is my favorite, can you tell?)

Here's a small list of things that don't delve into spoiler territory, about best boi Ethan.

Ethan is a goofball and loves to play pranks and cause general mischief (though the mischief is typically light hearted).

Ethan does not like Adam. Because of this Ethan will egg him on and poke the proverbial bear. Just because he's easy going doesn't mean he'll tolerate how Adam acts or treats others behind the scenes.

As mentioned before with King in his list, King is Ethan's best friends.

Ethan is extremely loyal to those he cares about and can be protective over his friends.

Ethan loves his snacks and probably has a stash of them hidden wherever he goes.

Ethan is Demi romantic/ Demi sexual

Ethan cannot cook, but he's actually extremely good at baking.

Ethan is the most instrumentally talented of the group and can play a variety of instruments.

Ethan is the type that will try to make you laugh if you're feeling down or having a bad day. Cue a number of memes, videos being sent your way if you're separated, but if you're close by wait for the theatrics to begin, shit's gonna get silly REAL fast.