#lazar x reader

[daeniradraconis]

I was thinking of a request with one of the hughes brothers (your choice!! I cannot choose between them) x reader who works for the team in some capacity, where reader gets injured by a stray puck or something and their love interest totally outs himself by caring for/being protective over reader.

Obviously only if you think this is interesting!! Love your stuff!

Thank you for requesting! 💖 Hope you will like this as well.

Secrets and Slapshots Being the Devils’ photographer had its perks. You got to stand on the ice, snap the team’s best moments, and—most importantly—spend extra time with Luke Hughes. Not that anyone knew why that mattered. You and Luke had kept your relationship a secret for seven months, a choice born of practicality (dating a player while working for the team? Tricky) and a bigger, messier reason: your older brother, Curtis Lazar. Protective was an understatement. If Curtis found out you were with Luke—the youngest Hughes brother, no less—heads would roll. So you stuck to sneaky glances, stolen moments, and hushed talks behind closed doors.

It worked. Until it didn’t.

You were by the boards during practice, camera raised, framing a shot of Nico roofing a puck when—BAM. A rogue slapshot rocketed toward you, too fast to dodge. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, the force slamming you back into the boards. You stumbled, vision blurring, a choked gasp escaping as your arm went limp, fingers buzzing with static. Your camera dangled from its strap, barely gripped in your good hand. Nausea surged, and you pressed your palm to your shoulder, trying to breathe through it.

The rink went quiet, then erupted.

“OH SHIT—”

“YO, YOU GOOD?”

Dawson Mercer skated next to you, panic etched on his face. “I didn’t mean to—I swear—”

Before you could respond, a furious shout cut through. “WHO THE HELL HIT HER?”

Your stomach dropped. Luke.

You looked up just in time to see him charging across the ice, stick tossed aside, eyes blazing.

“Ohhh, shit,” Jack muttered nearby. He knew his brother rarely got angry, but when he did, it never ended well.

“Luke, no—”

Too late. Luke’s fist crashed into Dawson’s jaw with a sharp crack, the sound cutting through the air. Dawson’s head jerked to the side, his body stumbling back as his hands flew up on instinct. For a second, he just stood there, blinking, dazed—like his brain hadn’t fully registered the hit yet.

“BRO, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—”

“YOU HIT HER WITH A PUCK—” Luke’s voice trembled, fists still tight.

“IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE—”

“DOESN’T MATTER—”

Jack, Nico, and Bas lunged, grabbing Luke’s jersey as he strained toward Dawson, wild and unhinged.

“DUDE,” Jack groaned, wrestling him back. “Chill—”

“NO,” Luke snapped, still fighting against his teammates and brother’s hold. “HE HIT MY GIRLFRIEND—”

And then everything stopped.

Your heart slammed into your ribs. Girlfriend. Seven months of secrecy, gone in one furious outburst. You wanted to sink through the ice, but the way Luke stood there—chest heaving, daring anyone to step up—stirred something warm beneath the shock.

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Wait—YOU’RE DATING HER?”

Luke’s face went crimson. “I—uh—” He instantly knew he’d messed up.

Jesper skated closer, laughing hard. “Dude, you just outed yourself.”

“I hate all of you,” Luke muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

Jack smirked at you, eyebrows raised. “Damn, took a puck to the shoulder and you’re dating Luke? Talk about bad decisions.”

You rolled your eyes, pain slicing through as you tried to laugh. “Thanks for the concern.”

Luke was beside you in a flash, hands hovering, unsure where to touch. “Baby,” he said, voice low and thick with guilt. “Does it hurt badly?”

“Yeah,” you gritted out. “Like hell.”

His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to Dawson with barely-leashed anger. “I’m gonna—”

“Luke.” You grabbed his hand with your good one, squeezing weakly. “Accident happens. Breathe.”

But before Luke could get a word out, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

"What the hell is going on?"

Great. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse.

Here came your worst nightmare—your brother, Curtis.

Your stomach sank as he skated over, gaze flicking between you, Luke, and Dawson—still rubbing his jaw, half-guilty, half-amused.

“Someone explain why Hughes punched Mercer,” Curtis demanded, voice edged with steel.

Luke straightened, completely unfazed. “He hit her with a puck. She’s hurt.” 

Curtis’ eyes softened briefly as they landed on you, cradling your arm. “You okay?”

“It hurts,” you admitted, wincing, though you forced a smile for your brother.

His jaw ticked. Then he turned to Luke. “So you thought swinging was the move?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, his voice casual but there was something sharp in the way he spoke—like he didn’t quite understand why Curtis was making this harder than it had to be.

Curtis stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Luke. The anger in his chest flared, but it was something else that was settling in—he knew. He’d pieced it together, the secret clicking into place. He just needed to hear Luke say it. “Why do you care so much, Hughes? What’s she to you?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Luke said, his tone firm, yet there was an undeniable fierceness behind it as he locked eyes with your brother. “And I love her.”

The tension in the air grew heavy, thick, like the calm before a storm. In the distance, you could hear the guys muttering, probably betting on how long it’d take for things to escalate—whether Luke would end up with at least a bruise or if he’d walk away unscathed.

Curtis blinked, his gaze flicking between you and Luke as the weight of the words sunk in. You held your breath, your heart pounding, bracing yourself for the worst.

Before you could process it, Curtis lunged.

It was all instinct—your body moving faster than your mind. You stepped between them just as Curtis’s hands shot out, the force of his momentum catching you off guard. His palms slammed into your injured shoulder with a sickening crack.

Pain exploded through your body, white-hot and blinding. A sharp cry ripped from your throat as you hit the ice, your arm going completely useless beneath you.

The rink went deadly quiet again.

Luke saw red. Pure, unfiltered rage took over as he shoved Curtis back with a force that sent him stumbling. His voice was raw, furious. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!.”

Curtis froze, his anger melting into something like shock as he looked down at you, crumpled on the ice. “Shit.”

Luke didn’t give him a second to recover. He took another step forward, fists trembling but unwavering, his voice low and lethal. “You wanna take a swing at me? Fine. But don’t you ever, ever touch her again.”

His words rang with a fierce conviction. “I love her, Curtis. Seven months, man. Seven months, and she’s the best thing in my life. I’ve been respectful for her sake—because I get it, you’re her brother, my teammate. But if you hurt her again, I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking hand.”

Curtis stared, his expression flickering between anger, guilt, and something else, something more vulnerable. After a long pause, he let out a slow breath. “It wasn’t on purpose. You know I’d never hurt her like that. I love her too…she’s my sister.” His voice cracked, and his gaze fell to you, still lying on the ice.

Luke didn’t soften. He wasn’t backing down. His fists remained clenched, his chest rising and falling with the force of his words. “I get it, Curtis. You’re protective. But if you hurt her again, I won’t hesitate to make you understand, just how far I’ll go to protect her.”

You tried to push yourself up, desperate to get Luke’s attention, but your shoulder flared with pain, and your vision swam. “Luke—”

His fury vanished under a minute, replaced by panic. He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering. “Baby, talk to me.”

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to speak. “It’s... bad.”You attempted to move your hand, but it didn’t respond at all, sending a wave of panic crashing through you.

“Okay, I got you.” He scooped you up, careful but firm, holding you close to his chest. “Team doc. Now.”

As Luke carried you off the ice, Curtis stood frozen, watching in silence. His gaze was hard to read—maybe respect, maybe regret—but something in his eyes shifted, betraying a hint of emotion.

—

The ride home was quiet, just the hum of the car and Luke’s soft “You okay?” whenever you winced. The doctor had strapped your arm into a sling—nasty bruise, minor strain, no fracture—but the ache still gnawed deep. Luke had insisted on driving, knuckles white on the wheel, worry carved into his face.

Now, in your apartment, the adrenaline has faded, leaving you exhausted. You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Luke set down takeout bags he’d grabbed despite your lack of hunger.

“You holding up?” His voice was softer now. His dark green eyes met yours, searching, full of both tenderness and concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, managing a small smile. “I’m just tired. And my shoulder is killing me.”

He stepped closer, wrapping you in a gentle hug. “You should’ve let Curtis hit me.” A half-joke, but guilt shadowed his gaze.

You laughed, then winced as the movement jolted you. “Luke, stop. I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” he said, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable.”

He gently guided you to the couch, his hand warm on your lower back, and carefully eased you down. He fluffed the pillows, draped a blanket over your legs, and made sure you were comfortable. It was Luke, completely unguarded—raw with worry, soft with love—and it wrapped around you in a way that made the pain seem distant.

“Soup,” he said, heading to the kitchen. “You need food before the meds kick in.”

You didn’t argue, and honestly, you didn’t really want to. You weren’t hungry, but the thought of warm soup didn’t sound half bad.

Half an hour later, after a few spoonfuls—Luke holding the bowl because your good hand wasn’t enough—you felt the weight of helplessness settle in. Brushing your teeth, washing your face, taking a shower—things that used to be so simple now felt impossible. A lump caught in your throat.

Luke noticed the shift in your mood. “What’s wrong?” He set the bowl down on the coffee table, leaning in, his concern obvious.

You hesitated, a tired smile flickering across your lips. “I can’t move my arm. At all. I feel gross from practice, but…” You waved vaguely toward the bathroom, a bit embarrassed.

His eyes softened as he caught on. “You need help showering.” It wasn’t a question—just a simple fact.

“Yeah,” you muttered, a small laugh slipping through.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I can help. If you’re okay with it. I just don’t want you to make it worse.”

You couldn’t help but tease. “Yeah, it shouldn’t be weird. We’ve already... you know...” You trailed off, awkwardly trying to convince both yourself and him. Still, the situation felt different—vulnerable, exposed.

He cleared his throat, his blush deepening. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” he said, offering his hand, clearly trying to hide the discomfort.

The bathroom quickly filled with steam as Luke adjusted the shower to just the right temperature. He stripped off his clothes first, then turned to you, his gaze steady but gentle. You pulled at your hoodie with your good hand, and he stepped in, carefully sliding it off—first your good arm, then easing it over the sling. Next came your shirt, followed by your bra, sweatpants, and panties. His fingers brushed your skin with quiet confidence, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I’ve got you,” he said, guiding you into the shower. The water hit your back, and you sighed, tension easing slightly. He grabbed the showerhead, letting the stream glide over you, avoiding your bad shoulder.

“Too much?” His voice was low, careful.

“No. Feels good.”

He squeezed body wash into his hands, lathering it up, and started at your neck, fingers gentle but sure. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I keep seeing that puck hit you,” he murmured against your hair. “Should’ve been faster.”

“You can’t stop everything,” you said, tilting your head to meet his eyes. “But you’re here now and that’s enough.”

He kissed your temple agin, soft and tender, before his hands moved down your back, the warmth of the water mixing with the steadiness of his touch. His fingers glided over your skin as he worked the soap down your spine. "Turn for me," he whispered, his voice low and soothing, his hands resting lightly on your hips, guiding you with quiet strength.

You turned slowly, your back now facing him, and as you did, you felt his lips brush against the back of your neck, the kiss lingering just a moment longer than usual. His hands were gentle, but there was an undeniable tenderness in the way he moved, as though he was cherishing every inch of you.

“You’re so strong,” he murmured, rinsing you off, his hand gently shielding your eyes as he worked shampoo through your hair. “But let me take care of you, alright? Don’t try to be tough for me. If you need anything, just ask. Okay, princess?”

You relaxed against him, giving him a small nod and a soft smile, the pain fading as his warmth surrounded you. 

When he was done, he wrapped you in a towel, pressing a quick kiss to your head. “All clean,” he said, his voice filled with love and gentleness.

He grabbed one of his Devils shirts, the one he’d left in your wardrobe ages ago—loose enough to accommodate the sling—and a pair of your pajama shorts, dressing you with the same careful attention. Once he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist. Luke hated sleeping with anything on, so he didn't bother with boxers—he preferred to sleep completely bare. And you definitely didn’t mind one bit.

Once you were settled, he walked over to the sink, a playful grin spreading across his face as he held up a toothbrush. “Open,” he said, his voice teasing but soft.

You rolled your eyes but complied, letting him brush your teeth—clumsy but full of enthusiasm. “Sorry,” he chuckled when he accidentally bumped your lip, his hand instinctively steadying you at your hip. 

Then came the skincare routine—toner, serum, moisturizer—and Luke looked utterly baffled. He picked up the toner and held it out, squinting at the bottle. “Wait, so you actually need all of this?” he asked, genuinely confused. “But you’re already, like, ridiculously pretty. Why all the extra steps?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s not just about looking pretty, Luke. It’s about healthy skin and preventing wrinkles.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. “Well, you'd still look hot with wrinkles, you know.”

You giggled, kicking your legs as you sat on top of the washing machine, where he’d placed you after brushing your teeth. “I don’t know about that,” you teased, enjoying the playful energy between you two.

Luke just shrugged with a grin, clearly unconvinced. But he didn't argue. Instead, he got to work with the precision of someone who had no idea what he was doing but was determined to get it right. He carefully applied each product—toner, serum, moisturizer—treating it like a delicate task, though still clearly puzzled by the whole process.

“Good?” he asked, stepping back with a gentle smile, his eyes searching for yours.

“Perfect,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his care in every word.

He kissed your forehead softly, taking a deep breath as his fingers grazed your healthy arm. “Bedtime?”

You nodded, already feeling the pull of exhaustion. “Yeah,” you whispered.

He tucked the blanket around you, his movements slow and deliberate as he slid in next to you, propping himself on one elbow, watching you settle against the pillow. His hand brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze tender.

“Lukey,” you murmured, half-asleep, “Thank you.”

He smiled softly, his fingers brushing your cheek slowly. “Anything for you. Even if Jack’s never going to let me live this down.”

You smiled, your face relaxing into the comfort of his touch, curling closer to him. “Worth it,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his love wrap around you.

He kissed your knuckles lightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, you are.”

[hottiesforhockey]

deal with the devil ⎜j.hughes

pairings: jack hughes x afab!reader genre: teammates sister⎜ friends with benefits ⎜secret relationship ⎜ warnings: vaginismus rep ⎜ fingering ⎜ fighting amongst friends :( ⎜ protective older brother curtis ⎜painful sex ⎜p in v ⎜public sex (...kinda) ⎜spitting ⎜curtis says some mean things about jack ⎜why do my jack fics always have him getting in a fight ⎜jack really is the kind to talk you through it ⎜ jack being oh so careful and gentle ⎜ synopsis: some things are private not secret - but your relationship with jack…oh that's definitely a secret. word count: 10k authors note: four nations jack has me feeling some type of way...this fic has some vaginismus rep in the smut scene with some mentions of painful sex so I hope everyone enjoys and let me know what you think!

(unedited)

You never pictured yourself as someone with a fuck buddy. 

You never pictured yourself having quickies in a supply closet. 

To be honest you never really pictured yourself doing anything other than sitting in a library studying … but here you are. 

 “You need to get up.” You hiss, smacking you pillow against the bare back in the bed next to you. You sigh, hitting the back one more time, before slumping against the mattress. “You’re insufferable.” 

“And yet you call me every weekend anyway.” The voice chuckles back, finally rolling onto his side facing you with a teasing grin on his face, his body lifting slightly as he reaches over you, turning off the alarm ringing on his phone. 

“Just admit that you like me.” He teases, his smile only growing as you shoot him a sharp glare. 

“I don’t like you, I just happen to get some satisfaction from your dick.” You mumble, finally smiling as his own expression drops. You’re not prepared to protect yourself and he launches forwards his arms wrapping around your waist pulling you down to a lying position as he wrestles to kneel above you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you into the bed. 

“Do you want to say that again, pretty girl?” He questions, his eyebrow quirked as you try to squirm in his hold. His grasp doesn’t falter for even a moment as you thrash beneath him, letting out soft chuckles every time you struggle a little too hard. 

“Fine, you win.” You whine, your body relaxing into the mattress as you stop your movements gazing up at the half naked man above you. “You look very handsome like this.” You comment, your eyes wandering over the man above you. His hair tousled, sharp eyes, his lips pulled back in a grin. His cheeks flush with heat and he watches you, watching him. 

You take the faltering in his grip to rip your arms from his hands, your thighs gripping onto his torso as you roll the two of you over, your hands taking the position his were in pushing his forearms into the mattress. His eyes trained on yours as you make yourself comfortable on his pelvis. 

“You win.” He mimics. You flash him a quick grin before leaning down to capture his lips with yours. It takes no more than five seconds for him to break free from your grip, his arms lifting off the mattress, his hands cupping either side of your jaw as he pulls you closer to him, one hand leaving your face to pull your hips down onto his. 

“Jack…” You mumble against his lips as you feel him smile against your lips, his own slowly trailing down your jaw as you drop your head to the side with a long sigh - Jacks hands making teasing motions against the edge of your panties, as the loud knock on your door startles you both. 

“Jack, dude we have to leave for practice in like fifteen minutes.” The voice of his roommate carries through the door, another sharp knock on the white wood pulling you away from the man below you. 

“You didn’t tell me he was here.” You hiss as quietly as possible, you’re quick to slide off the bed, reaching to the floor pulling your leggings on as quickly as possible before reaching over to Jack’s desk pulling on his hoodie. 

“I didn’t know he was.” Jack hisses back, making quick work of pulling on his own t-shirt just as the doorknob turns the two of you barely managing to get dressed as Jack’s brother steps into the room. 

“Dude, we have to leave — oh, sorry I didn’t know you were here.” Luke pushes open the door his gaze shooting to yours in surprise, you let your head fall in shame, the room falls silent as Luke looks between half naked Jack on the bed and then back to you - Luke had been the first one on the team to meet you through your older brother, when the youngest Hughes found himself abandoned to stay in jersey for all star weekend on his own - Curtis inviting him over for dinner so the young player would eat at least one home cooked meal that week. Luke had eventually introduced you to the rest of the team at events, insisting on you coming anytime your brother brought up inviting you, hence the awkward position you and Jack find yourself in now - Luke just sighs, shooting Jack a stern glare, “Look, I don’t even want to know.” Luke sighs, looking at both of you against with a shake of his head, “Curtis is gonna kill you, you know.” He remarks as he slips back out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself. 

This is not how things were meant to go. 

The silence that follows Luke’s departure is thick enough to suffocate. Jack runs a hand through his already messy hair, exhaling sharply as he swings off the side of his bed. “Well,” He says finally, dragging the word out as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, tucking it away into his pocket. “That went well.” Jack lets out an ‘oof’ as you shove at his shoulder, rolling your eyes as you gather your stuff into your tote bag. 

“I can’t believe we got caught like that.” Your voice is a harsh whispers, your hands gripping your bag in frustration as you frown - you should’ve never let your guard down - of course Luke would be here, this is his house too. Jack just grins, unfazed as ever as he walks towards you, his hands landing on your hips as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“I mean I’m surprised we didn’t get caught earlier if he was here the whole time,” Jack starts, and you shove him off you as you realise where his words are about to go. 

“Don’t say it.” 

“You were pretty loud last night, if I do say so myself.” 

“You said it.” You huff as his teasing words, unable to ignore the burning rising up your neck, you shoot him a glance over your shoulder, shoving the rest of your stuff into your bag before turning to face him - Jack still looking like he wants to do nothing more then drag you back into his bed - an easy smile on his face.  You scoff at his bright smile, shoving him again before spinning toward the door, your heart still pounding from the close call. “I need to leave before my brother finds out and buries your body under the ice at the rink.” Jack chuckles, but there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—something that makes you pause for half a second. 

Before you can place it, he speaks again, his voice softer than before. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if he knew— maybe we should tell him before things get out of hand.”

Your stomach tightens.

You shake your head, refusing to acknowledge the weight behind those words. That’s not what this is. This isn’t supposed to be complicated. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, nothing more.

“Tell him what,” you finally say, forcing a casual tone as you reach for the doorknob. “‘Hey curtis I’ve been fucking your sister for months and thought I should just let you know because I want to keep doing it just not in secret’.” You drop your voice in a bad impression of Jack, letting out a long sigh as you dismiss the idea, “It’s not going to happen, Jack.” Jack’s eyes darken slightly, but you don’t give him the chance to respond. You slip out of the room as quietly as possible, your pulse racing as you make your way down the hallway.

You send a quick nod to Luke who is perched by the kitchen counter sipping from his water bottle - “You’re continued silence is much appreciated.” You coo towards him as you slide into your shoes, the youngest Hughes brother shrugging. 

“He’d kill me too if he knew I knew - consider it for my own protection.” Luke hums, giving you a small wave as you slip out of the apartment. You let out an exhausted sigh as you get into the empty hallway - you shouldn’t be feeling like this—like you just barely escaped something dangerous. It’s just Jack. Just an ongoing mistake you keep making because, well…

You can’t seem to stop yourself. Something about Jack pulls you back each and every time you think of finishing things. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out, already knowing who it’ll be.

The Devil 😈: Next time, you should stay till I get back. We could ‘discuss’ things more

You roll your eyes, but your fingers hesitate over the keyboard.

Stay till I get back. 

Like it’s normal. 

Like everything about this is normal. 

You shove your phone back into your pocket without replying, picking up your pace as you head toward your car.

This has to end.

But deep down, you already know the truth: It won’t.

You don’t text him back.

Not that day. 

Not the next. 

Not for an entire week.

You tell yourself it’s for the best. That if you give yourself enough space, enough time, the pull toward him will lessen. That the way he makes you feel—like you’re skidding too close to the edge of something dangerous—will eventually fade.

But then Friday night rolls around, and you’re sitting on your bed, staring at your phone like an idiot, pretending you don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for.

“Are you coming over after the game tonight, pretty girl?”  You mimic, your same bad impression coming to the surface as you glare at your blank home screen. 

“Hey, are you coming to the game tonight? Renee can’t make it any more and I have that ticket.” Your brother knocks on the door the your room - well the spare room - poking his head in as he takes in your body sprawled across the bed, your gaze shooting up at him in surprise, as you body jumps a little, your hands automatically tucking your phone under your pillow as he lets out a soft chuckle. 

“I assume she didn’t get a chance to ask you.” He jokes, he already has his game day suit on - making you look so much worse in your pizza stained pyjamas. 

“I haven’t seen her all day.” You respond, confirming his suspicions that his wife never got the chance to ask if you want to go. “But I’m down if you can wait fifteen minutes to give me a ride?’ You say hopefully, a smile lighting up your face to mimic your brothers, his head nodding quickly as he shoots you an unsure glance. 

“I’ll give you twenty - you look like a mess.” He says with a grimace. 

“Ha Ha, very funny Curtis.” You sneer, sliding off the bed and shutting the door in his face as you glance around the room at any available clothing that might be lying around, “I knew I should’ve done laundry.” You manage to find some relatively clean jeans, and a cozy red hoodie, tugging them both on as you comb your fingers through your hair before securing it to the back of your head with a claw clip just as Curtis calls for you by the front door. 

“Are you coming or should I just assume you’ve died in your own filth?” He calls, your eyes rolling as you yank your purse of the back of the door, bolting down the stairs to meet your brother by the car. 

“My filth has not overcome me, as you can see.” You hiss as you slide into the passenger seat, your brother sending you an amused glance before pulling out of the driveway - the ride to the arena being relatively silent aside from the kids bop covers Curtis refused to turn off - you’ve never been more glad to get out a car then you were as he pulled into his spot at the prudential centre. 

“You know Luke was asking about you earlier today…” Curtis starts as you both slide out of the car, your brows furrowing as you look towards him, “Yeah, he was asking if you were coming today - said there was something he wanted to talk to you about.” Curtis continues, a knowing grin spreading on his face. 

“I don’t know why.” You say quickly, hiking your bag further up your shoulder as you glance over at him, the two of you making your way into the building. 

“Neither, but he’s a good kid.” Curtis starts, “Wouldn’t be mad if there was something going on between you two.” He adds, your brows raising in surprise jack’s words slicing through your head. 

I wouldn’t mind if he knew. 

“At least he’s nothing like his brother Jack, god he’s a piece of work.” Curtis cuts through your thoughts, “Don’t get me wrong, I love the kid but don’t even bother with someone like him — all he’ll do is break your heart.” He says quickly, your thoughts deflating quickly as you just nod along. 

After your joyous heart to heart with your brother, you find yourself standing outside the locker room, shifting on your feet as you wait. The hallway is buzzing with players walking in and out, staff moving quickly through the space, and the occasional fan sneaking glances inside. You’re distracted, lost in thought, when a passing player jostles you, your feet losing their place as you stumble, trying to catch yourself before ultimately giving up and just bracing for impact. 

“Woah, gotcha.” a pair of large hands grip your waist, steadying you. You blink up at Luke holding you upright, his hands firm against your sides. His expression is amused as you steady yourself, your fingers lightly gripping his forearm for balance. 

“Timo you gotta be more careful, we’ve got precious cargo over here.” Luke shouts down the hallway - a murmured ’sorry’ shot your way as the large Swiss player continues on his way. 

“Thanks, I really thought I was gonna eat shit for a second there.” You joke, Luke’s hands still firm on your waist until he’s sure you’ve caught your balance again and quickly releases you. 

“No problem - I swear you’re clumsier than me.” 

“Only when hockey players shove past me like I’m invisible.” you reply dryly, Luke chuckles as he helps you dust of the invisible dirt all over your clothes, “So, my brother said you were asking about me today?” You start, crossing your arms over your chest as you raise a brow towards the youngest Hughes brother. 

“Oh, yeah.” Luke starts slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh, “It’s just were trying to plan this congratulations party for Jack for making team USA and I was hoping you’d be able to make an appearance?” Luke explains, your eyes widening in surprise as your gaze shoots over where you are to look for signs of your brother - you grab hold of Lukes arm dragging him closer to the wall as you whisper. 

“I can’t go if Curtis is going to be there - it’s going to be too suspicious.” Luke lowers his head as the two of you continue your oh so secret conversation, not noticing the ever darkening presence coming up the hallway - their focus trained entirely on you and his younger brother huddled in the corner. 

“Curtis isn’t going - that’s the best part.” Luke starts, “He said he’s never support his teammates betrayal of Canda and to count him out.” He expands, your head nodding - it does sound exactly like something your brother would say - “Besides do you think I’m dumb enough to invite you and your brother, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I know how to keep a secret.” You nod again, your grip releasing on Luke’s sleeve as you glance around the hallway, your eyes locking with Jack’s glaring blue ones as you step away from his brother. 

“Send me the details.” You say quickly, as you motion for Luke to glance over his shoulder, the boy jumping as his older brother slides up besides him. Jack’s grip on his duffel bag flexes before he steps forward, his movements deliberate. 

“You ready for the game?” Jack asks Luke, his voice even, but there’s a rough edge to it that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, man, almost,” Luke replies casually, but even he seems to pick up on the change in Jack’s demeanour. Jack doesn’t acknowledge you at first, his gaze lingering on Luke for a second too long. Then, finally, his eyes flick to you, filled with something unreadable. “Just catching up with the littlest Lazar before the game.” He jokes, slinging his arm over your shoulder, definitely not catching the tension simmering off his older brother. 

Jack glances between the two of you again before marching off towards the locker rooms, Luke letting out a deep exhale as you push his arm off your shoulder. “Do you think he heard?” 

“Luke, I don’t think that’s your biggest problem.” 

+

+

The energy in the arena is electric. The crowd roars as the players hit the ice, the sharp scrape of skates against the surface sending a thrill through your spine. The Devils are locked in an intense battle against their rivals, the game fast and aggressive. You try not to focus too hard on Jack, but it’s impossible. Every time he’s on the ice, your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet.

He plays with the same recklessness he carries everywhere else in his life—fearless, fast, and a maybe little too confident. And for a while, it’s working. He’s everywhere, setting up plays, taking shots, chirping at the other team like he was born for it.

But then it happens.

It’s late in the second period when Jack takes a bad hit. You see it the second it unfolds—his body angled just slightly off balance when he gets checked hard into the boards, his body crumpling to the ice as he holds onto his side, his head pressing against the floor as he pulls himself on his knees. 

Your stomach lurches.

Jack stays down longer than he should, and the entire arena holds its breath. He shifts, attempting to push himself up, but it’s clear something’s off. Trainers rush onto the ice, helping him upright as he tries to shake them off, but you can tell from your seat—he’s rattled.

“Shit,” Nico mutters beside you - the captain still on the injury reserve after his own set back on the ice a few weeks ago - his jaw tight as he watches his teammate get escorted off the ice. You feel his eyes flick toward you, and you force yourself to stay still, to not react too obviously.

It doesn’t matter though, your pulse is hammering and all you can think about is whether Jack is okay. Everyone watches as Jack disappears down the tunnel, and you’re on your feet before you can think twice about it. “I’m gonna go grab some water,” you tell Nico hastily, ignoring the way his eyes narrow slightly at you.

You don’t give him a chance to question it before you slip into the crowd, heading straight for the hallway leading to the locker rooms. Security is tight, but you know enough people, recognise enough faces, that nobody stops you as you weave through the chaos. When you push past the door leading into the medical area, Jack is sitting on the exam table, his head down as a trainer checks him over. His jersey is half off, revealing the sheen of sweat on his skin, deep bruising already forming along his ribs. His hair is damp with sweat, and there’s a frustrated set to his jaw that tells you he’s pissed—at the hit, at himself, at the entire situation.

He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on whatever the trainer is saying. But when the door clicks shut behind you, his head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours. Something flickers across his face—surprise, then something softer, something unreadable.

“You checking in on me, pretty girl?” Jack’s voice is slightly hoarse, his usual cockiness tempered by the clear ache he’s feeling. You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the sight of him like this. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, arms crossing over your chest. “Just making sure you’re not dead. Luke would be devastated.” Jack huffs out a laugh, wincing slightly as the trainer adjusts the ice pack. 

“Yeah, Luke would be torn up.” He tilts his head slightly, looking at you from under damp lashes. “But what about you?”

You scoff, shifting on your feet, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. “I’d be mildly inconvenienced.”

Jack grins, and despite the swelling starting on his cheek, he still somehow looks impossibly good. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

The trainer clears his throat, looking between the two of you before stepping back. “You need to sit out the rest of the game,” he tells Jack firmly. “I’ll let Coach know.” Jack groans but doesn’t argue, his gaze never leaving you. The trainer slips out, leaving you alone with him. The silence that settles is thick, charged with something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You didn’t text me back.” Jack’s voice is quieter now, more serious.

“I panicked.” You shift your weight, your pulse quickening. “And I didn’t think there was anything to say.”

Jack studies you for a moment before shaking his head with a small, humourless chuckle. “Bullshit.”

Your stomach tightens. “Jack—”

“No,” he cuts you off, pushing himself up slightly, wincing but ignoring it. “You keep acting like this is just some stupid game, like none of this means anything, but we both know that’s not true.”

Your breath catches, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

Jack lets out a sharp exhale, his frustration evident. “Or maybe you’re making things easier then they actually are.”

“This has to end eventually, right?” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

Jack’s gaze darkens, his fingers flexing against his knee. “Do you want it to?” You don’t answer immediately, because the truth is, you don’t know. “Is this because of Luke?” His question surprises you, your head tilting in confusion as he shakes his head slowly, “Never mind.” He shifts slightly, wincing as he moves, but his eyes stay locked onto yours. “You can keep pretending you can’t feel what’s right in front of your face, you can keep telling yourself it’s just a mistake,” he says, voice low, steady. “But we both know you’ll be back.”

Your stomach twists because he’s right.

He always is.

+

+

The party is already in full swing by the time you arrive - a chorus of cheers as you step through the door, each of the boys giving you a slight nod as you walk by them and into the Hughes brothers kitchen, the bottle of water in the cooler calling your name. 

“Oh, hey you made it.” Lukes voice carries through the kitchen, the lankiest Hughes shoving his way over to you, moving his teammates out of the way as he grabs his own drink from the cooler, leaning a hip against the counter as he smiles down at you. “I wasn’t sure you’d still come, Jack said it’s been a week or two since you two—” Luke hesitates, pursing his lip as he thinks for the right word, “talked.” He finishes, smiling as he takes a sip from his drink as you let out a low groan. 

“It felt wrong not to at least show my face.” You agree, rolling your eyes at looks teasing glance, his eyes locking on something over your shoulder, his face dropping quickly as he clears his throat. 

“Oh Curtis, what’re you doing here? I thought Canadians had no place in a team USA party.” Luke’s voice sends a shot of panic down your spine, a fake smile plastered on your face as you turn to face your older brother, who in return looks at you in confusion. 

“I wasn’t going to come to a filthy USA party but what kind of teammate would that make me?” Curtis teases, his arm slinging on your shoulder as he turns his attention down to you, questions in his gaze, “and it looks like I’m not the only Canadian here.” You let out a soft chuckle as you shuck your brothers arm off your shoulder, sending a pleading glance towards Luke. 

You hadn’t expected him to be here, and judging by the way Luke suddenly finds his drink fascinating, neither had he.

“Yeah, well,” you say, shrugging off his arm as casually as possible, “someone’s gotta get the inside scoop.” Curtis chuckles, but his gaze lingers on you a second too long, like he’s trying to piece something together. You don’t give him the chance, instead you decide that water’s just not going to cut it and reach to grab another drink from the cooler and twist the cap off, taking a slow sip as you scan the room.

You shouldn’t have.

Jack’s already looking at you.

He’s leaning against the far wall, a beer dangling from his fingertips, his darkened gaze locked on you with an intensity that makes your skin heat. He doesn’t move, doesn’t break eye contact, and for a moment, everything else—the music, the bodies pressed together in the living room, the weight of your brother standing too close—fades away.

You swallow hard, willing your pulse to settle, but the way Jack’s lips twitch, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, only makes it worse.

“Hey, you good?” Curtis’ voice pulls you back, his brows drawn together in concern. “You disappeared for a second there.” 

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look away. “Yeah, just tired from all my spying.” He doesn’t look convinced, but before he can push, a few of his teammates call his name, giving you the perfect excuse to step back. “I’m gonna grab some air,” you say, already moving. The night air is cool against your skin as you step outside onto the back deck, inhaling deeply as you press your palms against the railing. The music inside is muffled, just a low thrum beneath the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from the party still raging inside. But out here, it’s quieter—easier to breathe.

At least, it should be.

You can still feel the weight of Jack’s gaze from across the room, the way he looked at you like he already knew you’d end up here. Like he knew you’d run.

You close your eyes for a moment, tilting your head back as you exhale slowly, trying to shake the tension coiling in your chest. You shouldn’t have come tonight. You knew that coming would make things so much harder to avoid, to pretend like nothing was going on and yet here you were, standing outside during the congratulations for your achievement party of your fuck buddy.The door creaks open behind you, your thought spiral pausing as you take a long sip for your drink and even before he speaks, you know who it is.

“What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice is rough, edged with something you can’t quite place.

“It was too noisy in there.” You comment, not missing the way Jack lets out a soft chuckle. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” 

You straighten but don’t turn around, keeping your hands braced against the railing. “I was invited.”

“That’s still not what I meant, I know you were invited. ” His footsteps are slow, deliberate, and then he’s next to you, close enough that the heat of his body seeps into yours despite the cool air. “So why did you come?”

You huff out a breath, finally turning to face him. “Does it matter?” Jack lets out a quiet, humourless laugh, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his already-messy hair. He looks frustrated, but more than that—he looks desperate.

“It matters,” he says, voice quieter now, like he’s afraid of what you might say. “It fucking matters to me.”

Your stomach twists, fingers tightening against the railing as you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Jack, don’t do this.”

His jaw flexes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Do what?”

“I didn’t come here to fight with you.” You can’t help the sigh that falls from your lips, “don’t make this into something it’s not meant to be.” 

Jack exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

You stiffen. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit,” he repeats, stepping closer. “You’re acting like you didn’t come here for the same reason I asked Luke to invite you—you think you can just pretend like there is nothing between us and I can tell that it’s killing you inside” He scoffs, his eyes flashing in the dim light. “You really think we can just go back to pretending like we were nothing after this?”

You swallow hard, your pulse pounding against your ribs. “I never thought we were nothing.” Jack’s expression falters for a split second before he recovers, stepping in even closer until there’s barely any space left between you. 

“Then what are we?” You don’t answer, because you don’t know how. Because if you say it out loud, it becomes real. Jack studies you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for something—anything. And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“I want us to be something real.”

Your breath catches, your fingers digging into the railing behind you.

Jack takes a shaky breath, his voice lower now, raw. “I know what we agreed to in the beginning but—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be just some guy you used to sleep with. I don’t want to be the mistake you try to forget.”

Your throat feels tight, your chest aching with something you don’t know how to name. “Jack—”

“No,” he interrupts, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. “Just tell me. If you really don’t feel anything—if this really was just some casual thing to you—tell me, and I’ll walk away.”His voice drops even lower, barely more than a whisper. “But if there’s even a chance—” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If there’s even a part of you that feels the same way, just—don’t lie to me.” You look away, staring at the ground, because it’s easier than looking at him. 

Because if you meet his eyes, you’ll break.

Jack lets out a slow breath, nodding like he’s already bracing for the worst. “Okay,” he murmurs, barely audible. “I get it.”

He turns like he’s about to walk away, and something in you panics. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers curl around his wrist. Jack freezes. His breath is uneven when he turns back to you, his gaze darting from your hand on his skin to your face. Your heart is in your throat, pounding so hard you think he might be able to hear it.

And then, finally— “I don’t want you to walk away.” Jack exhales, his eyes closing for a brief moment, like he’s trying to keep himself together. When he opens them again, they’re filled with something so intense, so devastatingly real, it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

He steps closer, his free hand hesitating for only a second before he cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

“Then don’t make me.” His voice is barely a whisper now, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “Just let me in.” Jack’s breath hitches when you don’t pull away. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest against your jaw, like he’s grounding himself, like he can’t quite believe you’re here, letting this happen. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, your hand still curled around his wrist, keeping him close. For once, you don’t have the energy to fight it—to fight him. Jack shifts slightly, tilting his head just enough that his nose brushes against yours. His lips part, his breath warm against your skin. He’s so close.

 Just a little more and—

“What the fuck is this?” The sharp voice shatters the moment like glass. You jolt back, your pulse spiking as your head snaps toward the open doorway.

Curtis.

Your brother stands just inside the threshold, arms crossed over his chest, his expression a mixture of shock and pure, unfiltered anger. His dark eyes are locked onto Jack, his posture stiff, radiating hostility.

Shit.

Jack straightens but doesn’t step away from you. His jaw clenches as he meets Curtis’ glare, his whole body suddenly tense, like he’s already preparing for whatever’s coming — his body covering most of you as he lets out a soft groan.

“Curtis,” you start, stepping around Jack, but he shakes his head sharply, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Oh, don’t fucking ‘Curtis’ me,” he snaps, his gaze flicking between you and Jack. “What the hell is going on here?” You swallow hard, feeling like a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

“It’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Curtis’ voice is tight, low with barely restrained anger. His eyes burn into yours, waiting for an answer, for some kind of explanation that won’t make him want to deck Jack right here and now.

Jack exhales sharply, finally turning to face your brother, stepping forwards and putting himself slightly in front of you. “It’s not exactly what you think.”

Curtis scoffs, his expression twisting. “Oh, really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re messing around with my sister.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. “It’s not like that.”

Curtis lets out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Because you’re such a committed guy, huh, Hughes? Never had a casual thing in your life?” He takes a step forward, his body language shifting from disbelief to outright anger. “Are you fucking serious?My sister?”

“Curtis—” you try, but he barely even spares you a glance.

“This is what you’ve been sneaking around for?” His voice rises, his gaze locked on you now, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Jack fucking Hughes?” He shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Jesus Christ.”

Jack takes another step closer, his voice firm. “Neither of us is sneaking around.”

Curtis’ head snaps toward him, his expression thunderous. “No? Then what the fuck do you call this?”

Jack doesn’t flinch. “I care about her.”

Curtis lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. “You care about her?” He gestures between the two of you, his voice laced with disbelief. “What, like you care about all the other girls you’ve been with?”

Jack’s nostrils flare, his whole body going rigid. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” Curtis glares at him, stepping in close enough that they’re nearly chest to chest. “What’s not fair is you treating my little sister like she’s just another one of your hookups.”

Jack’s eyes darken, his fingers twitching at his sides like he’s forcing himself to stay still. His voice is low when he speaks, steady but sharp. “She’s not.”

Curtis scoffs. “Yeah? Then what the hell is she?”

Jack doesn’t hesitate. “She’s everything.” The air between them crackles with tension.

Curtis’ expression falters for half a second before his hands curl into fists, his whole body coiled like a spring. His gaze flickers to you, his jaw tight. “You actually believe this shit?”

You exhale slowly, meeting his eyes. “I—” You hesitate, your throat tightening. “It’s not that simple.” 

Curtis barks out a laugh, taking a step back and raking a hand through his hair. “Not that simple,” he repeats, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Jack shakes his head, his voice edged with frustration. “Look, man, I know this isn’t what you wanted—”

“No, you don’t know,” Curtis snaps, turning back toward him. “You don’t get it, Jack. She’s not—” He cuts himself off, his eyes flickering toward you for the briefest moment before he shakes his head. “She’s not one of them.”

Jack’s expression hardens. “I know that.”

Curtis lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you?”

Jack steps closer again, his voice rough, his whole body radiating tension. “I’m not playing games with her.”

Curtis narrows his eyes. “You really think you’re good enough for her?”

Jack’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t back down. “I don’t know,” he admits, voice tight. “But I know I’m not gonna walk away just because you don’t like it.”

Curtis stares at him, something unreadable flashing across his face. Then, suddenly, his shoulders shift, and before you can react, he’s moving.

“Curtis—!” you shout, but it’s too late.

His fist flies before either of you can stop it. It connects with Jack’s jaw with a sickening crack, sending his head whipping to the side, Jack barely reacting beyond a sharp inhale. He exhales, his jaw tightening as he lifts a hand to his face, his fingers brushing over the fresh bruise forming just below his cheekbone, a small cut on his cheek from Curtis’s wedding band.

He lets out a slow, steady breath before straightening.

He doesn’t hit back.

Curtis shakes out his hand, his breaths heavy. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he grits out.

Jack wipes at his lip, where a small bead of blood is forming, then lifts his gaze to Curtis—calm, steady. “That’s not your call to make.”

Curtis’ jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring. His gaze flicks toward you, his expression still tight with anger. “Come on. We’re leaving.” You hesitate, glancing at Jack. He’s already looking at you, his eyes soft despite the tension still simmering in the air. And that’s when you realise—he’s waiting for you to decide.

Curtis sees it, too.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “You can’t be serious.” Your pulse pounds. Jack doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his face unreadable but open, waiting, he wants you to make the choice. 

Leave now with your brother and this whole thing is over or stay. 

“You should go, Curtis.” You finally say, a glare focused on your brother as you slip your hand into Jacks, his fingers gripping yours for dear life, “You’ve done enough damage for one day, we can talk about this later.” You conclude tugging Jack behind you as you both slip inside, your hand guiding him through the crowd as you avoid his teammates questioning stares as you shove open the bathroom door slamming it behind the both of you with a click of the lock. 

Jack leans against the bathroom door, exhaling sharply, his fingers still wrapped tightly around yours, his jaw tight. His chest rises and falls with controlled breaths, though the slight tremor in his hands betrays just how hard he’s trying to keep himself together.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.

You shake your head, your heart still pounding against your ribs. “Yes, I did.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he exhales, running a hand through his constantly messy hair. “Curtis might actually fucking kill me.”

You huff out a short, humourless laugh. “Well, considering he already got one good shot in, I’d say he’s off to a great start.” Jack winces as he touches his jaw, the skin already bruising from the hit. You step closer without thinking, your fingers reaching out before you can stop yourself. Jack stills, his gaze locking onto yours as your fingertips ghost over the tender skin.

“You should put some ice on it,” you murmur.

Jack doesn’t move. His breath is warm against your skin, his body still tense but rooted in place. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, but this time, there’s something else in his voice. Something almost vulnerable.

“I know.” Your fingers trace lightly along the forming bruise, and Jack exhales, his eyes fluttering shut for half a second before they snap open again, pinning you in place.

A beat of silence stretches between you, heavy and electric.

Then, suddenly, he moves. One second, he’s standing there, looking at you like he’s fighting every instinct screaming at him to touch you, and the next, his hands are on your waist, his fingers gripping you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath fanning over your skin. “Please tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you reach up, your fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair as you tug him down to you. Jack doesn’t hesitate. He crashes into you, his lips slanting over yours with a desperation that makes your knees weak.

The kiss is anything but gentle. It’s raw, urgent—like he’s been holding himself back for too long and he can’t anymore. His hands slide up your sides, pressing you against the door, pinning you between him and the cool wood as his lips move against yours like he’s trying to memorise the way you taste, the way you feel beneath his hands.

You gasp against his mouth, and Jack takes full advantage, his tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss until you feel dizzy from it. One of his hands moves up, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilts your head just right, devouring every sound you make like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips, his voice hoarse, almost wrecked. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”

You do. Because you’ve wanted him just as much.

Jack groans softly as you tug at his shirt, your fingers slipping beneath the hem, pressing against the warm skin of his stomach.

His muscles flex under your touch, and he leans into you more, like he can’t get close enough.

Someone bangs on the door. “Occupied,” Jack snaps, barely breaking away from your lips before kissing you again, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you slightly as he presses you tighter against the door.

Your head is spinning, your skin buzzing, and you know you should stop—should at least slow down—but then Jack pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Tell me this is real,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming out in uneven pants. “Tell me I’m not making a fucking idiot of myself here.”

Your chest tightens. “Jack—”

“Tell me you want this as much as I do.” His voice is barely a whisper now, but the weight of it crashes into you like a tidal wave.

You reach up, cupping his face gently, your thumbs brushing over the bruise already forming on his cheekbone.

“I do,” you admit, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammers in your chest. “I do, Jack.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. He lets out a breath he must have been holding, his grip on you softening just slightly before he kisses you again—slower this time, but just as intense, just as desperate. Like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve wasted pretending this wasn’t inevitable. 

Jack’s hands move lower, fingers brushing the hem of your dress before slipping beneath, calloused fingertips dragging along the sensitive skin of your thighs. The touch is light at first, almost hesitant, but when you let out a soft gasp, pressing closer, he groans.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his lips trailing down your jaw, nipping at the skin just beneath your ear. “You’re gonna kill me.”

His hand slides higher, knuckles teasing along the crease where your thigh meets your hip, and you shudder at the contact. Jack tilts his head, watching your face as his fingers move, testing, teasing, until he finally slips them beneath the fabric of your underwear.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders, and he groans at the feeling. “Already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough, full of something that makes heat pool low in your stomach. “God, you’re perfect.”

His fingers find your clit, circling in slow, deliberate strokes, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. Your head tips back against the door, a soft moan slipping from your lips, and Jack swallows the sound with a heated kiss, his movements never stopping, never slowing.

He presses against you, his free hand gripping your waist to keep you steady as he works against your clit, firmer this time. “We don’t have our supplies.” He whispers against the skin of your neck, pulling his fingers away as you let out a whine at the loss of sensation. 

“Jack—” Your voice is breathless, needy, and he shushes you with another kiss, his lips curling into a smirk against yours.

“I know, but it’s going to hurt you.” He grumbles, distracting you by sucking on your neck, sliding your underwear back into place as you shake your head. 

“It’s okay.” You coo, pulling his face away from your skin to look in his eyes. “It’ll only hurt for a little bit.” 

Jack’s expression shifts the moment the words leave your lips. That heat, that hunger—it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface—but something softer overtakes it. Concern. His fingers trace slow, absentminded circles on your thigh, grounding you.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice gentler now, “I know you’re saying that, but I don’t want you hurting just to give me something.” Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat. He knows. Of course he does. You’d told him before, in hushed conversations that never felt like they mattered as much as they do now.

“I want this, Jack,” you say, and it’s the truth. But still, your body hums with the familiar tension of anticipation—of wanting and fearing in equal measure.

Jack tilts his head, watching you like he’s searching for something. Then, slowly, he leans in, pressing the softest of kisses to your lips. “Let me help, okay?” Your breath shudders out of you as he kisses a slow path down your jaw, his hands shifting—one pressing against the small of your back, the other slipping between your thighs again, fingers teasing along the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, but there’s no rush in his movements now. “That’s good, baby. That’s gonna help.”

You nod, exhaling shakily. Jack hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down carefully, like he’s giving you time to change your mind. When you don’t, he kneels slightly, lifting one of your thighs over his so he can settle between your legs.

Then you watch as he brings his fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to wet them before lowering his hand back down, dragging the slick digits along your entrance. The difference is immediate. Where tension had been bracing you for pain, Jack’s touch eases the worst of it, slick warmth helping him slide against you with more ease.

You whimper as his fingers stroke slow, deliberate circles around your entrance, never pushing, never rushing. Jack groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “That feel better?”

You nod, breathless.

“Good,” he rasps, lips brushing against yours as he moves again, teasing at your opening until, finally, he slides one finger inside. The stretch is there—but it’s different this time. Less sting, more pressure, more of the sweet, aching fullness you’d always wanted to enjoy without the pain. Jack watches your face the entire time, eyes dark and careful, his free hand stroking soothingly over your side. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” You exhale, body relaxing a little more, and Jack presses a kiss to your temple. 

“We don’t have to rush,” he murmurs. “I just want to make you feel good. You tell me if anything doesn’t.” His words pull a soft laugh from your throat as you glance around the small bathroom, the sound of music playing just outside reminding you exactly where you are.  Jack keeps his pace slow, his touch deliberate. He watches every shift in your expression, every shudder of your breath, like you’re the most important thing in the world.

And to him, maybe you are.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as he moves his finger inside you, testing, gauging your reaction. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise sends a different kind of warmth through you, pooling in your stomach. You exhale shakily, fingers curling into his shoulders. “Jack…”

He groans at the way you say his name, tilting his head to capture your lips again. This kiss is different—deeper, slower, laced with the same patience he’s giving the rest of you. His free hand strokes up your side, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. After a moment, his movements pause. “Can I try another?” His voice is hushed, full of care, and he doesn’t move until you give him a small nod. Jack swears under his breath when he slides another finger in, moving with even more caution now, waiting for any sign of discomfort. There’s a stretch, a pressure—but not the sharp, stinging pain you were bracing for.

“Still okay?” he asks, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Mhm.” Jack exhales like he’s been holding his breath, kissing you again, his fingers moving in slow, careful strokes, coaxing pleasure from you with practiced patience.

 “That’s my girl,” he breathes against your lips. The words make your stomach tighten, pleasure curling low as he works you open, his touch easing some of the tension you didn’t realise you were still holding. Jack shifts, dragging his fingers back just enough to tease at your entrance before pushing in again, curling just right, and a soft moan escapes you before you can stop it.

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “There we go,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with approval. “That’s what I wanna hear.” Your cheeks burn, but Jack just kisses you again, deeper this time, like he wants to pull every sound from your lips.

“See?” he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek. “We’ll take our time. I’ll take care of you.” And with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s watching you so intently, so carefully—

You believe him.

Jack’s fingers work you open with slow, careful precision, never pushing too far, never rushing. His lips brush against your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—small, grounding touches that keep you from slipping too far into your own head.

And it’s working.

The usual tension, the worry that pain will creep in and ruin the moment, is fading. Replaced by something warmer, something sweeter. Pleasure unfurls in slow, steady waves as Jack curls his fingers inside you just right, stroking against that sensitive spot that has your breath catching in your throat.

“Jack—” His name slips out, breathless, needy, and he groans like the sound alone could undo him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his thumb circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. “You feel okay?”

You nod, your fingers digging into his shoulders, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him. “Better then okay.” You hum.

Jack smiles, tilting his head so his nose brushes yours. “I want you to let go for me,” he whispers. “Don’t hold back.” You exhale shakily, thighs trembling as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in your stomach. Jack keeps his pace steady, keeps his lips moving against yours, swallowing every little gasp, every whimper, every soft moan like they belong to him.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, his voice rough with want. “So beautiful when you fall apart for me.” His words, his touch, the way he’s looking at you—it’s too much. The coil in your stomach snaps, pleasure crashing over you in warm, shuddering waves. Jack groans as he feels you tighten around his fingers, his movements slowing but never stopping, working you through it, letting you ride out every last pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, kissing you slow, deep, reverent. “Such a pretty girl.” Your body trembles against him, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as the aftershocks leave you warm, pliant in his arms. Jack pulls his fingers from you carefully, bringing them to his lips without breaking eye contact, sucking them clean with a low groan.

The sight sends another shiver through you.

Jack smirks, kissing you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Told you I’d take care of you.” Jack doesn’t let go of you. Even as you tremble, breathless from the high he just pulled from you, he keeps his hands on your hips, grounding you, stroking soft, soothing circles into your skin.

“You still with me, baby?” His voice is rough, but there’s nothing but tenderness in the way he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

You nod, exhaling shakily. “Yeah.”

Jack hums in approval, his lips curling into a grin against your skin. “Good.” His hands skim down, gripping your thighs, your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how hard he still is.

Your breath catches.

Jack groans at the way your body reacts, his fingers flexing on your skin. “Fuck,” he mutters. “We need to leave— I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.” He mumbles, his pupils blown as he looks down at you, the anxiety in your chest easing as you place your hands gently on the sides of his face, shooting him the most reassuring smile you can muster. 

“I want you inside of me.” You almost laugh at the way Jack chokes a little, his mouth falling open as he tries to shake his head, “I’m serious, Jack. I trust you.” His mouth opens and closes, the words failing him as he moves to pull away, your hands holding him steadily, “Please fuck me, Jack.” He doesn’t need you to say anything else before he’s positioning you in front of the mirror with practiced ease. He stands behind you, his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming slow and deliberate.

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, dragging his lips over the shell of your ear. “Look how perfect you are for me.”

Your cheeks burn, but Jack doesn’t let you turn away. His hands slip beneath the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch until he can pull it over your head, leaving you bare.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes raking over you in the reflection. His hands slide over your stomach, your thighs, possessive and reverent all at once. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

One hand drifts lower, between your legs, teasing, testing. His breath shudders as he feels how wet you still are.

“You still want this?” His voice is hoarse, strained with restraint.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, your own breath coming in uneven pants. “Yes.” Jack lets out a shaky exhale, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment before he steps back just enough to push his jeans down, kicking them aside. Then, he does something that has your stomach twisting with anticipation.

He lifts his hand, palm up, and looks at you through the mirror, his lips curving into a lazy, knowing smirk. “Spit in my hand, baby.” Heat floods through you at the request, at the rasp of his voice, dark and needy. You hesitate for only a second before doing as he asks, watching as your spit pools in his palm. Jack groans, eyes darkening as he brings his hand down, slicking himself up with slow, teasing strokes. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he mutters, squeezing the base of his cock before lining himself up behind you.

His free hand returns to your waist, gripping you firmly as he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. “Keep watching,” he murmurs, voice thick with need.

Then, he pushes in.

The stretch is slow, careful, but still enough to steal the breath from your lungs, your eyes squeezing shut as he rubs a soft hand over your back. Jack groans, his fingers tightening on your waist as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he breathes, forehead pressing to the back of your shoulder.  You whimper, fingers gripping the edge of the counter as your body adjusts, the fullness almost overwhelming. Jack stills, holding himself back, his other hand continuing to rub slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“You okay?” His voice is softer now, laced with patience, with care.

You swallow, exhaling a shaky breath before nodding. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Move, Jack.” 

Jack pulls back slightly before thrusting in again, setting a slow, deliberate pace, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. “That’s it, baby,” he groans. “Look at how good you take me.” And when you do—when you see the way your bodies fit together, the way he holds you so tightly, like he never wants to let go—

Jack's thrusts become deeper, more urgent, his fingers digging into your hips as he chases his own release, and you can feel the tension building again—an undeniable pull, something that tells you this is where everything is supposed to fall into place. Your breath quickens, your hands gripping the counter so tightly you think your knuckles might crack, but you don’t care. It’s all heat and friction, and the way he fills you, the way his body presses against yours—it’s all so perfect, so desperate.

And then, suddenly, a sharp knock on the door breaks through the haze of desire.

"Hey," a voice calls from the other side, cutting through the charged silence like a knife. "Can you guys not fuck in the bathroom?"

Your body freezes, Jack’s movements halting just as quickly. You both stare at the door, eyes wide, hearts still racing, but now, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief swirling inside you.

"Luke," Jack groans, his voice thick with frustration, his forehead resting against the back of your shoulder. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

The voice on the other side of the door doesn't sound particularly concerned. "I’m just saying," Luke continues, "there’s a whole party out here. The bathroom's not your private fuck zone."

You can't help it. You burst into a laugh, your body shaking with the absurdity of it all. Jack lets out a low groan, pulling out slowly and backing away from you, frustration and amusement both warring on his face.

"Alright," Jack says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We’ll wrap it up, Luke, just give us a damn second." You turn to face Jack, both of you still catching your breath, and you share a look, the tension from the moment still hanging thick in the air—but now, at least, it’s softened by the ridiculousness of Luke’s timing.

"Can you believe that?" you laugh, wiping a tear from your eye.

Jack shakes his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Only you and I would get interrupted in the middle of something like this."

Another knock.

"Seriously, guys! The party’s waiting. Come on!"

You both laugh again, the situation breaking the heavy atmosphere as you gather yourselves, still breathless but with a grin. “Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, reaching for your clothes. “We’ll be out in a minute, Luke. Don’t start a riot.”

As you both adjust yourselves, Jack leans in for one last kiss, soft and full of promise.

"I guess we’ll just have to finish this later," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "You better believe it." Jack pauses for a moment his eyes catching his own reflection in the mirror as he winces lightly. 

“I really hope your brother isn’t still here.” 

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Abigail Lazar x Reader x Dark Kristof Lazar

When you met Kristof Lazar, you thought he is the nicest guy that you have ever met.

I mean he takes you out on dates, showers you with gifts, making sure to never upset you, and his daughter Abigail is the sweetest kid.

So, it would never occur to you that he is a powerful crime lord and not only that but also a vampire.

Yet, Abigail decided to reveal this information for you when you two were playing together.

At first you thought she was joking and even mentioned that to Kristof.

Kristof only smiles at you before confirming his daughter's words.

And officially welcoming you into the family.

The information scared you but you didn't dare to escape in fear of getting caught.

However, Abigail suggested to her father that they turn you into a vampire, thinking that you accepted your role as her mother and the wife of her father.

And that was a lie, because When Kristof tries to turn you, you try to stab him with a wooden stick.

Your attempt fails for an obvious reason.

He is a vampire.

But Kristof didn't take offense, instead he kissed the top of your hand.

"Don't worry, you will accept your new life sooner than later"

Then he bites this same hand he just kissed.

[mommahughes19-23]

Boat Day Bitch - J.H

@yn.lazar : bye bye till next time jerz👋🏻👋🏻

tagged : @jackhughes

location : a lake in jersey

curtislazar95 : put. on. a. shirt. @yn.lazar

↪ yn.lazar :no im a big girl

jackhughes : till next time .. on to better lakes ps. love you

dawson1417 : oh my MY EYES

jesperbratt : miss ma'am pop off🤧

tmeier96 : oop your brother will kill me if I say anything so look how blue the water is

↪ curtislazar95 : ur lucky your in a different country 😤

tofff73 : 🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️

john.marino97 : 🌊🌊🌊

pally_18 : 🐬🐬🐬🐬

bssmith : 🏊🏻‍♀️🏊🏻‍♀️🏊🏻‍♀️🏊🏻‍♀️🏊🏻‍♀️

ehaula : 🏊🏻‍♀️🌊

↪ yn.lazar : its like u guys speak in code 😤

lhughes_06 : again u wait for me to leave and then have fun its unreal @yn.lazar

_quinnhuges : excited to finally see you guys

nicohischier : a mini Lazar

nicodaws : thanks for inviting us it was a blast! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

sarakobel : Had a great time! see you guys in a few months! 💓💓

A.N :

ok hi first off who tf is she with 4 post in less than 3 hrs lol , I swear this is it for the night but I found these pics that looked like jack and Nico and had to post something!! I really hope you enjoy its the longest one I posted tonight! lots of luv

also why do I feel like the devils guys speak in emojis ...

xoxoxoxoxox, M

Tags : @lukey-pookie-hughes43 and @skylershines

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel

Eighth Intel | Before

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman, Toxic Relationship, Obsession, Menticide

Words: 4k (What's a drabble again?)

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

 ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■  “Bell” ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■ 

Day After Ukraine Mission

16:07 | February 28th, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” 

“You do that a lot.”

You start from what you were staring at, the codes that are so tricky and you feel so close. The intel from what you have in your hands adding a piece to the puzzle that you’re enamored with—the complexities satisfying a carnal part of you that you can’t name. Your head turns to find Lazar’s curious yet amused smile, close to the television they used sometimes for the news not at your usual spot at the too small desk with the too large computer; at the center table instead is where you chose to haunt. 

“What?” you reply dumbly, too out of your element to say a more snarky reply. The transition from focused on the task to this interruption from the man that is more of an Eema than an Abba due to how hearty he looks and feels and making sure everyone felt the same by also stuffing their face. 

“That.” You were met with Lazar’s finger in your face. You resisted the urge to stare cross eyed and instead gave him a more inquisitive look, eyes searching. Which only humored him more, releasing a chuckle. “You have quite an intimidating stare.”

You push the hand away, scoffing,

“What? At my work? Isn’t that like everyone else?”

Lazar hummed, his eyes glittering at a joke you can’t understand.

“No. You have that type of stare that will freeze lesser men. Or get slapped by someone who thinks you’re looking for a fight. Or get you put into an asylum. Only, when you decode, you have an insane smile on your face. It’d be creepy if we didn’t know you.”

“Uh huh.” You dismissed, eyes glancing at the medical office. “You should work better on your compliments if you want Park to have a drink with you.”

If Park wasn’t in the medical office room along with Adler, you’re sure Lazar would throw his old cup noodle at you. Alas, he only gave you a dry “Ha. Ha.” with a neutral expression but still didn’t leave. He wants an answer. 

You turn to him fully, elbows leaning back against the desk, petulant.

“I doubt I smile like how you describe…” Lazar snorted while you frowned at him, before shifting your gaze back to your papers. “I don’t know. I just…love puzzles. They’re fun to solve.”

“Is that what makes you stare so intently?” Lazar leaned against the television, the stand slightly creaking at the movement, his intrigue seeming sincere. Another question hidden, two subjects being asked for one answer. A wall. “The thrill?”

Is that what love is to you?

You tapped at the papers, biting your lip in thought. 

“Maybe a part…I just have this need to figure things out. To open it up—to find the numbers, the letters, the riddles. In an order that is random but it’s not. It’s just a trick. A shadow on the wall. A reason for each piece. Each hint. Every piece of the puzzle has its purpose. It’s reason for being.” You didn’t notice when you started smiling, the topic consuming you like books and pictures do. But you just kept going as you grabbed your pen and fiddled with it, miming writing numbers or letters. “Like Sims with mechanics, I think. Or you with bomb wiring. You find the hardy wires or broken pieces—and I untangle it all. I even love how difficult it could be if I find a cipher intellectual. It’s fun.”

“Sounds maddening,” Lazar replied simply, brow raising. “And painful. Maybe even obsessive.”

You shrug, staring deeply at your own pen, tone far away. As if you were speaking about another topic than this. Something other. Like a secret.

“That’s love, isn’t it? Pain and obsession?”

“Your books tell you that? Or you come to that conclusion yourself?” You pressed your lips, silent. Only glancing at Lazar(are you easy to read?) who only smiled gently before switching gears and letting out a booming laugh. “With that description of love—you very much implied Adler is in love with our friendly neighborhood Perseus.”

Your jaw dropped, a gasp being released as you sat up rigid in your chair. A defense for Adler and a denial ready only for a startling guffaw to join in.

“What the shit are you talking about, Lazar?” Woods comes from his previous spot practicing with the boxing bag, Mason side by side with his own amused gaze as they come close to the center table. Woods snorted as he leaned back against the table near you instead of taking a proper seat. “Can you imagine our own Robert Redford switching spit with a commie? Ha!”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Mason quips to his friend with a nudge while Woods expression quickly changed to offended with no heat as he pushes Mason back with a disbelieving snort. “What? Sorry I’m airing out your fantasies.”

It was strange watching them. The easy back and forth quips and teases. Lazar felt like a warm hearth and home cooked meals compared to Mason’s steady kindness of a worn animal despite its past and Woods…

You briefly think of the night prior, how charged he felt out in the field. Not eager for it yet…willing to take everything and anything out his way. But his friendly taunts and words to you too. The arcade. The room where you got the intel and the knowledge he had of you, knowing you would’ve loved to play around more with the tech and computers there if the both of you had time and not world ending doom.

You weren’t impressed by his skills. Skills are to be expected in this line of work. People can call you cocky all they want.

But how personable he is? That was different.

It was unexpected.

(Why did it feel like he’s more close to you than Sims right now? Why has everyone been so disconnected from you? Even—blue fire for eyes hidden by the shaded wall, wheat dancing in the wind, artful cracks across a canvas—)

A hand waved in front of your face, your eyes broken from its lost look as you blinked back to the present.

“Hello? Earth to Bell?” Woods was still next to you and you couldn’t help but notice that Mason moved away with Lazar to where Lazar’s station is. Still talking with friendly smiles and easy atmosphere. You blinked again before turning towards Woods, who looked at you with a mix of amusement and concern. “What happened there? Did you even listen to a word I said?”

You didn’t. You’ve been doing this a lot. Getting lost in your head. Your brain foggy and mind distant. Not as quick as you usually are. You thankfully haven’t had this happen in the field. You hope it stays that way.

Instead of giving a straight answer, your lips only rose in a dry smile.

“Sorry, was thinking just how you got the guts to punch Hudson of all people.”

Woods huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back, brushing your shoulders as he did. 

“Doesn’t take guts to punch a prick.”

“No,” your smile turns up a tad, more mischief. “Takes some balls instead. Can’t have balls without a prick nearby or there’ll be trouble.”

Woods made a choked sound, as he stared at you dumbly before slapping the table and releasing a loud boom of a laugh. You wonder how he does that. So loud. So free. 

“You got more spunk than I thought, Bell. Guess you need it to even get the idea to escape in a Ruskie tank.”

You huff out your nose, but your chest still lightened at the praise. Your smile coming easy now and tension completely fallen away. You hid it though as you turned back to your work, picking up a stray picture of the Ukraine base you took.

“Did it for you. I figured you would want to run some commie’s over.”

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of it. I would say top five of my favorite wet dreams.”

You couldn’t help it. You snorted, it bursted through your chest and it didn’t stop, only turned to a laugh. You put a hand over your mouth to try to contain it but Woods satisfied expression only made you laugh more.

“Why—why did you say that?!” You try to collect yourself but you couldn’t. Not when Woods waggled his brows as if in answer. “Pfft—should I even ask what’s top one?”

Woods shrugged. 

“No can do. Gotta protect your innocence somewhere. My mind is a crazy place. Don’t wanna scare you off.” You snort again, shaking your head at him and tried to get back to work. Woods didn’t move as you stared around at the different pictures you took with Intel. “Say, where’s the random pics you took of me?”

“Don’t worry, Woods. I didn’t take out a camera with you over the mannequin—“ You stopped when he shook your shoulder, a warning gaze that only made you bite back another smile and only glare at him with no heat as you pushed his hand off. “Calm down,” you say quietly. “I haven’t said anything. Scout’s Honor.” You raise a hand as if to show.

Woods rose a brow dubiously.

“Were you even a Girl Scout?”

“Doubtful. Looks like you just gotta hope I don’t open my mouth about it.”

Woods grunted. Yet still didn’t leave. 

“Do you normally take pics of everything and everyone? Even on missions like that?”

“I like it. I like taking pictures. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You did take a few of him before you took a picture of the base. It was nice lightning and he looked good. “I can give you the pictures I took to you, if you want. They were good shots.”

“I suppose I can add it to my scrapbook.” Woods joked before shaking his head, his eyes turning more curious as the conversation went on. Gaze more assessing as he stared down at you. “Nah, it’s fine.  Don’t mind you keeping them. After I take a look of course. I guess I’m just asking…what’s the obsession with the camera? Film is precious right?” At your shoulder tensing, you starting to get defensive, he quickly changed tactics as he rose a hand in calming manner. “I ain’t judging. Just curious. Couldn’t help but overhear Park talk to you that Adler doesn’t like wasting resources. Or some shit like that. I don’t get the big deal. But it must be if you keep doing it despite them having a stick up their asses about some film of all things.”

Your brows pinched together, gazing intently at Woods eyes. You don’t see a reprimand. Or exasperation. Or even amused exasperation, like you were just being cute while doing something disobedient—like a pet jumping at their owners even as they tell them no with an amused smile. (“Always the one who never listens. Huh, Bell? Didn’t I tell you before about the pictures?”) He’s being sincere in his interest. It was his expression that did it.

You looked away, eyes taking in the safehouse around them. 

“Ever feel like a ghost in your own body?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Woods answered roughly. You nodded next to you, him taking that as permission that he can finally properly sit next to you. You didn’t mind thighs or shoulders brushing. Comrades now. Both of you throwing your lives on the line. Getting shot  by a common enemy brings people together no other way can. 

“Well, the coma did a number on me. I don’t remember much. I can’t put a story to scars on my body. My life, my memories—it’s only Vietnam.”

“Fucked up thing to remember. That whole war was a shit show,” Woods provided. “You must’ve been young.”

You only hummed, distant. Eyes straying in the direction of the red room. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, ears falsely hearing shots and napalm strikes. You shuddered but hid it by clenching your fists on the table, eyes on your jumbled words of your work. 

“Yeah…Hue City was just the start of everything going downhill…But I guess my point is…” You don’t know how to properly say it, you can’t find the English word for this. Esurient for memories erased. The feeling of not quite fitting in everyone’s circle, even with Sims. Monachopsis. (Are you even here at all? It’s like they stare past you.) “Life is memories. I don’t have any. What’s a person if not memories? So…I don’t feel…like it. A person.” You shrug casually, mutely. Hand wandering to a picture, thumbing it. “Ghosts don’t seem to remember stuff besides a deep motive. That’s what others believe. But…with pictures…pictures are for memories. If I take pictures, I’m actually taking memories. And if take enough memories…” You struggled once more how to explain but Woods was sharp despite his looks.

“You’ll be a person again.” Your eyes darted towards him, giving him a minute nod as he seemed to consider your words with a tilt of his head. The silence between the two of you wasn’t stifling, just…there.

You felt like something was released from you. 

Unlocked. 

The key was just for someone to ask. 

“Hey, listen—“ you turned at the soft touch to your shoulder, and you noticed Woods looked uncomfortable about the atmosphere you created. Not used to sharing open emotions like this no doubt but still had what appeared like care in his eyes. “You should really talk to Mason, he—“

Your ears honed in on the medical office opening, your eyes quick to follow as your head swiveled. Everything turned silent as your eyes settled upon the body you can recognize even in the thickest of jungles or deepest of wet rice paddies. And as your eyes settled, your thoughts of ruminating toska and the sense of lacuna dissipated.

You were so busy trying to catch what Adler was saying to Park beside him, you temporarily forgotten Woods next to you. You could hear him talking. Some form of advise. 

You turned back to your work and absently nodded with a quick smile to match at him. Your lips moved to say thanks. You think you did.

You didn’t see Woods throw another look of concern towards you, of suspicion. Turning something over his head.

You forced your ears to stretch, as if with force you can have super hearing. With brute force you can have the arcane man with valleys upon his visage, with liquid nectar that bounces with voluminous silk, voice of gravel that leads to the path of victory and makes your mind hazy. 

You still had a pen in your hand, tight as you looked down with a frown at the papers. Your leg beginning to bounce under the table. Impatient. Restless. Athirst.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Adler called out(Beckoned, Signaled, Enticed—trinket waved like a treat. Your nepenthe.) clearly, more loudly than how he was talking to Park. You didn’t turn your head as he walked out the door near the garage door, too obvious. But you did sneak a look when he exited, stealing gaze right when you saw his back before the door closed.

Except it didn’t. A small rock held it ajar.

A secret.

“What the hell?” Woods was bewildered, staring after Adler while you tried to hide the fact. Waiting a beat. Or two. Your leg bounced under the table, growing more insistent. “Doesn’t he get his fix in here anyways?”

You heard Lazar answer for Woods, something about Adler needing a change of scenery sometimes. You can see in your peripheral his glance. You ignored it as you stood up to head back to your computer desk.

“I’m taking a break too,” you say, quickly picking a book from your pile in the corner after a brief deliberation.

“Uh…” Woods face would’ve made you laugh from how scrunched up it was as he stared as you quickly fixed your work papers back in the center table, book under your arm. “Isn’t that what you were doing? Like fuckin’ a second ago?”

“No,” you answer, organizing the pictures and quickly scanning them before you do so. “Lazar interrupted me from my work. And then you did. It was an interruption. Not a break.”

“You sure turned prickly,” Woods said in answer.

You pause, seeing Woods was somehow offended. He just doesn’t get it.

“Says the cactus,” you quip with a quick smile, twitching up more at Woods huff out his nose. “I…like taking my break the same time as Adler,” You decide to answer the question in his eyes. He did listen. “It’s what we’ve always done. I read. He smokes. And right back to work we go. It works better this way.”

You didn’t wait for his reply. 

You didn’t even bother to see if he was about to.

You have the book in your hand, and you have your tether(Your eyes looks for the sun tanned gold even though it should blind you, but you never cared for your wellbeing. Protect the quiet monster like a demon enraged. Demon for monster. Monster for demon. The coin. You keep it in your pocket, whelve it—the whispered confession—the gravity of your ustulation and agastopia can burn through your pockets and skin all it wish. You keep it in. Like the pain killers Adler gave you earlier for your migraine after their meeting with Hudson about Ukraine.) outside. 

You open the door and without looking, you went to the left side of the door that’s by some unused pallets. Sitting on them and opening your book to your last point, as if you were ignoring him. (How could you?) He was smoking as he leaned against the wall beside the door. You always left of it, him always right. (▞ He’s always right. ▞ He ▙ never ▞ lies. Not to ▖ ▞ ▗ you.)

It was silent. Only the turning of your pages as you focused on reading, and the occasional exhale you hear now and then if you strain your ears. A puff of grey smoke above the two as your audience.

You don’t mind the quiet moments. You take what you can get. The two of you have too long a history for you to be uncomfortable at silence. Or needing something more. 

You don’t.

(The secret coin in your pocket burns, and you try not to flinch nor whine. You must stay sated, ▚ демон ▚ ▛ ▖ ▖.) 

A shot went through the front of your skull, your hand darting up as it seemed to go to the back of your head, a hiss to your lips. You almost dropping the book with your other hand.

“Another migraine?” He was close. You opened your eyes you didn’t realize were closed as you were hunched over your knees, spotting his shoes. 

You only offered a small nod before closing your eyes again, jaw tight. 

“I don’t…” you stop, speaking more quietly to help with the pounding. The sunlight was too much already, you don’t want to add your own voice to your own misery. “Dont know why it’s getting worse. Is this…normal?”

“It can be.” He replied simply, to the point. “Here. Take this.”

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head to spot he took out some more medicine from his leather jacket, holding it out to the pills in the palm of his hand. At the sight, your stomach curdled.

You felt yourself pale and you don’t know why.

Adler must’ve noticed your hesitation. Tilting his head and lips twitching to a frown around his cigarette. He lifted a hand, taking one deep inhale, embers subtly lighting his face before he threw it off. He exhaled out his nose, smoke flowing smoothly. 

Your throat tightened as you stared. But not in want. It felt more heavy. More heady. Your mouth open more in a wince than for anything else.

“You know this will help. We gotta make sure you’re in shape for this, Bell.” You bowed your head in shame, book now beside you on the pallet as you clenched your hands on your knees. You heard him sigh. And now you see him, closer—he’s kneeling in front of you. One knee down, the other having his elbow leaning against it. “I don’t have to explain to you the stakes currently. You know how serious this is since you and Woods found out Hudson’s dirty little secret about Perseus and the nuke he has. You know it. We can’t fuck around anymore.”

You hunched your shoulders, as if that can hide you from your guilt. Because you spotted his glance towards your book. You can guess what else he’s hinting.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? A part of your mind asked. You tried to not let your heart crack of no more pictures.

“I know…” you say, eyes down and to the side. Yet… “It’s just…it wasn’t that long ago you gave me them…I don’t—I mean—“ Your tongue is tied again. Like always near him. You didn’t mean to sound accusing or hinting. Adler is trained for medical issues on the field. You tried to take a breath. “I just don’t want to be a burden with all this. Slow you guys down. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You did a tight squeeze of your knees, practically white knuckled grip, a mix of uncaring at your honesty and hating yourself for it.

You felt your chin be lifted up, Adler’s forefinger doing so you can be face to face. He assessed you seriously.

“You won’t, kid.” He’s so close. Breath to your face. So calm too. Your anchor. He believes in you. If you or him leaned just an inch or two forward—he took his hand away from your face before bringing his palm with the medicine again. “Taking these will help. I’ll watch over you. Just like the good ‘ol days.” He tilted his head, a quirk of the mouth up. And you think he couldn’t be more charming. 

You ignored your past nerves, quickly taking the medicine in a dry swallow, gloved hands brushing his bare ones(Damn it all.). 

He nodded at you, the barest thing of it before he stood up. Glancing at your book again with pressed lips before facing you once more with a raised brow.

“Oscar Wilde? Here I thought you only read Dostoevsky and Nietzsche.”

“It’s a collection of some of his poem’s. And a break from existentialism and nihilism is good for the mind. But you’ve always been more of a stoic,” you shoot him a teasing look, an attempt to get your bravado back. “Our very own Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Adler did a small huff out his nose.

“Just don’t start bowing.” Adler did a quick motion of his to the door. “Come on. Back to work, Tolstoy.”

You nod, marking where you were in the book before following Adler back in, your hold on the book tight. Who knows when you’ll get to read again.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? 

(It doesn’t matter. Adler made the choice for you.)

You tell yourself it’s fine. You instead let yourself be a book for Adler—willing to be read. You imagine how he would do it, a book of you in his hands. Read through your pages, open up your spine and let his fingers run through your creases—how easily can he finish you? How many times could he, until you’re worn and wrinkled from use? Will his touch trace the abuse of a loved book?

The place where he put his finger on your chin burns.

…

The page you marked on the page reads: “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."

▞ ▚

▛

▞ ▚

A/N: Bell is a SIMP. Poor girl. The best way to tell if Bell is in love, is if she suddenly starts thinking in poetry. Bell stares intensely you say? Bell loves intensely too.

I’m also confusing myself with Dark!Adler and Soft!Adler. But again he’s both so 🤷‍♀️ Man so toxic and a red flag, he’s even confusing the author.

Also, I’m planning to write really quickly to finish up For Whom the Bell Tolls. Didn’t want to but I really want to go ahead and write for BO6. Then again, that fic was NEVER supposed to be that long or longer. Sorry if I speed through some stuff, I just want to finish it and move on then torture you all further.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

[wintfleur]

𝓐 NIGHT TO REMEMBER ⊹ au masterlist

━━━ ❛ underneath the sheets, you enchanted me

💄 ━━━ 𝓯alling in love with a teammates sister was a rule 𝓳ack 𝓱ughes never planned on 𝒷reaking , but that’s rule was so easily broken when he met 𝒽er . . . 𝓸phelia 𝓵azar

pairing 𝗈𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗋 𝗑 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗌

∿ ABOUT OUR GIRL !

bitch, I’m a brat (ophelia’s profile)

where’d all the time go? (ophelia’s timeline)

∿ HER RELATIONSHIPS !

heartbeat, my heartbeat (Jack and phia’s relationship study)

∿ BLURBS !

∿ FICS !

under her spell, I can’t break

∿ SOCIAL MEDIA AUS !

last christmas

∿ ASKS !

more Jack and Phia

jack realizing his feelings for ophelia

did they enjoy sneaking around?

favorite short n’ sweet songs

∿ EXTRA !

ophelia’s pinterest

ophelia’s playlist

phia & jack’s playlist

a night to remember wip’s

roro’s notes. it’s finally here, a jack au ฅ́˘ฅ̀ im soo excited about this au i can’t even explain it , this is very much an interactive au , so please please please send in requests and thoughts !! pls comment if you would like to be added to the taglist x

find everything ophelia under #💄ꞌꞋ ࣪ _ 𝓪 𝓷ight 𝓽o 𝓻emember 𐙚 . ꒱

˖ ་ taglist : @yoontwin @toasttt11 @cixrosie @winterbarnesblog @iceflwers

©️WINTFLEUR ; you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

[sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns]

Hell of a summer (what songs I think match the vibe) (part 2)

Movie summary…

Y/n L/n

[hd-junglebook]

Falling For It

Part 7 - Word Count 5647

This is kind of a longer one than normal, but I have served a late-night snack that should keep you occupied.

Y/N walked into the patient's room, a warm smile on her face as she greeted the elderly woman lying in the bed. "Good morning, Mrs. Johnson. How are we feeling today?"

The woman, who had to be at least 80 years old, squinted up at Y/N, her wrinkled face scrunching into a scowl. "How do you think I'm feeling? I'm stuck in this godforsaken hospital with a bunch of people poking and prodding at me all day long."

Y/N bit back a laugh, used to Mrs. Johnson's cantankerous demeanor. "Well, I'm here to check your vitals and make sure everything is looking good. Can you sit up for me, please?"

Mrs. Johnson grumbled under her breath but complied, pushing herself up into a sitting position. As Y/N wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, the old woman eyed her suspiciously.

"You're too pretty to be a doctor," she said bluntly, her gaze sweeping over Y/N's face. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "I'm a nurse aide, actually. And yes, I'm quite sure I know what I'm doing. I've been doing this for a few years now."

Mrs. Johnson harrumphed, clearly unconvinced. "Well, just don't go trying to set me up with any of those young whippersnappers you call doctors. I'm too old for that nonsense."

Y/N nearly choked on her laughter, her eyes widening in surprise. "I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Johnson. Your heart belongs to Mr. Johnson, I'm sure."

The old woman's face softened, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Damn right it does. He may be gone, but he's still the only man for me."

Y/N felt a pang of envy at the love and devotion in Mrs. Johnson's voice. She wondered if she would ever find that kind of love, the kind that lasted a lifetime and beyond.

Shaking off the thought, she finished taking Mrs. Johnson's vitals and jotted down the numbers on her chart. "Everything looks good, Mrs. Johnson. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?"

The old woman thought for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Well, you could find me a decent cup of coffee in this place. The stuff they serve here tastes like dishwater."

Y/N laughed, nodding in agreement. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can smuggle in a cup from the cafeteria for you."

Mrs. Johnson's face lit up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I knew I liked you, kid. Just don't let those doctors catch you. They're a bunch of sticks in the mud."

Y/N grinned, giving the old woman a conspiratorial wink. "Your secret is safe with me, Mrs. Johnson. I'll be back later with that coffee."

With that, she turned and headed out of the room, a smile still playing on her lips. Despite Mrs. Johnson's gruff exterior, Y/N had a soft spot for the old woman. She reminded her of her own grandmother, with her sharp wit and no-nonsense attitude.

Y/N pulled her hair out of its bun, running her hands down the sides to slick it back before she walked down the sterile hallway of the hospital, her footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors.

As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with one of her coworkers, a handsome doctor named Ethan. He reached out to steady her, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment longer than necessary.

"Whoa there," he said, a charming smile spreading across his face. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a blush creep up her neck at his touch. "Yeah, sorry about that. Just lost in thought, I guess."

Ethan chuckled, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. "No worries. It happens to the best of us." He paused, his gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. "You look stunning today, by the way." Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at the compliment, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Thanks," she said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his courage, before speaking again. "Listen, I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. "Would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe grab dinner or a drink after work?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling at the unexpected invitation. A part of her wanted to say yes, to throw caution to the wind and take a chance on something new. But even as she opened her mouth to respond, an image of Jack flashed through her mind, his piercing blue eyes and crooked smile sending a pang of longing through her chest.

She hesitated, torn between the desire to move on and the lingering feelings she still held for Jack. It had been a week since that fateful night at the lake house, a week since she had watched him kiss Lexi and felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. But despite her best efforts to forget him, to push him out of her mind and her heart, she found that he was still there, lurking in the shadows of her thoughts.

"I..." she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. "I'm flattered, really. But I don't think it's a good idea."

Ethan's smile faltered, disappointment flickering in his eyes. "Oh. Okay, no problem. I understand."

Y/N felt a twinge of guilt at the hurt in his voice, but she knew she was making the right decision. She couldn't lead him on, couldn't pretend to be interested when her heart belonged to someone else.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "It's not you, I promise. I'm just... not ready for something like that right now."

Ethan nodded, his smile returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "No worries. I get it." He glanced at his watch, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips. "I should probably get back to my rounds anyway. I'll see you around, Y/N."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone in the hallway, her thoughts swirling with confusion and regret. She knew she had done the right thing, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing out on something, that by holding onto her feelings for Jack, she was letting life pass her by.

But even as she tried to push the thought away, she knew that it was no use. Jack had left an indelible mark on her heart, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to erase it. With a sigh, she turned and headed back to her patients, determined to focus on her work and push all thoughts of Jack and Ethan out of her mind.

…

Y/N walked out of the hospital, her mind still reeling from her encounter with Ethan. She made her way to the parking garage, her footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The garage was mostly empty at this time of day, with only a few scattered cars parked here and there. Y/N reached her own car, a small, sensible sedan that had seen better days, and unlocked the door with a sigh.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she closed the door behind her and leaned back against the headrest, her eyes fluttering shut. It had been a long day, and she could feel the exhaustion settling into her bones. She knew she should start the car and head home, but for a moment, she just wanted to sit and breathe.

Her phone buzzed from inside her lunch bag, startling her out of her reverie. She reached for the bag, rummaging through its contents until she found her phone. When she saw who the message was from, she felt her heart sink.

It was from Quinn, and she could already guess what it was about. He had been texting her all week, ever since the disastrous night at the lake house. He was still furious about what had happened between Jack and Lexi, and he had been taking out his anger on anyone who would listen.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before opening the message, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of anger and frustration.

"I can't believe he did that to you," the message read. "After everything you two have been through together. He's a fool if he thinks Lexi is better than you."

Y/N sighed, her fingers hovering over the screen as she tried to think of a response. She knew Quinn meant well, but his constant reminders of that night were starting to wear down on her. She just wanted to move on, to forget about Jack and Lexi and everything that had happened.

But she knew it wasn't that simple.

She typed out a quick response, thanking Quinn for his support. As she hit send, she leaned back in her seat once more, her gaze drifting out the window. The sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow over the parking garage. It was a beautiful sight, but Y/N couldn't seem to appreciate it.

With a sigh, she started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

…

Hugo's relentless purring filled the room, a comforting background noise to y/n's blissful slumber. Curled up in her blanket cocoon, she snored softly, oblivious to the world around her. Meanwhile, Hugo, the brown tabby cat, lay at the foot of her bed, methodically grooming himself for the third time that evening.

Outside y/n's bedroom, shuffling footsteps and muttered curses echoed through the quiet house, signaling the start of another restless night. Y/n peeked out from under her blanket, her one eye cracked open as she surveyed the empty room. With a grumble, she readjusted herself, sinking deeper into the warmth of her cocoon.

Y/N's peaceful slumber was suddenly interrupted by the loud bang of her bedroom door slamming against the wall. She jolted awake, her heart racing as she let out a startled squeal. Hugo leaped off the bed in a blur of brown fur, alarmed by the sudden commotion.

As Y/N's sleep-addled brain tried to make sense of what was happening, she heard familiar voices filling the room. Peeking out from her cozy blanket cocoon, Heather and Angie, standing in the doorway with grins on their faces.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Angie exclaimed, her voice far too chipper for whatever ungodly hour it was. "We've got plans today, and you're not going to waste away in bed!"

Y/N groaned, pulling the blanket back over her head in a futile attempt to block out the intrusion. "Go away," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the layers of fabric. "I'm hibernating."

Heather laughed, the sound far too gleeful for Y/N's liking. "Oh no, you don't," she said, marching over to the bed and yanking the blanket away. "You've been rotting and doom scrolling for a week and it's time to get out and have some fun."

Y/N squinted up at her friends, her eyes still bleary with sleep. "I don't want to have fun," she whined, making a grab for the blanket. "I want to stay here and wallow in my misery." Her friends exchanged amused glances, clearly used to her morning grumpiness. Angie chuckled.

"Come on, Y/N, you can't spend all day in bed. We've got plans!"

With a dramatic sigh, Y/N reluctantly pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She glanced over at Hugo, who was peeking out from under the dresser with wide, curious eyes. Smiling, she scooped him up and gave him a quick cuddle before setting him back down on the bed.

"Wish Jack luck, buddy," she said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. "I think he’s going to need it."

…

The bass thumped through the soles of Y/N's strappy heels as she stepped into the dimly lit club, Angie and Heather flanking her sides. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, alcohol, and expensive perfume, and the dance floor was already packed with writhing bodies moving to the pulsing beat.

Y/N tugged at the hem of her skintight mini skirt, the black leather barely grazing her upper thighs. She had paired it with a deep red corset top that cinched her waist and pushed up her cleavage, the lacy fabric and her makeup smoky and seductive.

"Damn, girl!" Angie whistled appreciatively, her eyes raking over Y/N's curves. "You look like you're ready to break some hearts tonight."

Y/N grinned, striking a playful pose. "That's the plan, babe.” Heather laughed, linking her arm through Y/N's. The trio made their way to the bar after saying hello to the boys, Y/N could feel the eyes of the other clubgoers on them, appreciative glances and envious stares following their every move.

It was a heady feeling, knowing that she was turning heads and commanding attention. As they reached the bar, Y/N leaned forward, flagging down the bartender with a coy smile. "Three vodka cranberries, please," she purred, batting her lashes for good measure.

The bartender, a handsome man with a chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes, grinned back at her. "Coming right up.” Y/N preened at the attention, feeling a rush of confidence surge through her.

As the bartender slid their drinks across the counter, Y/N took a sip, savoring the tart burst of cranberry on her tongue. She turned to her friends, raising her glass in a toast. They downed their drinks in unison, the alcohol buzzing through their veins and adding an extra shimmer to their already glowing skin.

As they set their empty glasses back on the bar, a new song came on, the beat even more infectious than the last. Y/N felt it thrumming through her body, urging her to move, to lose herself in the music and the moment.

She grabbed Heather's hand, tugging her towards the dance floor. "Come on, let's dance!" Heather laughed, allowing herself to be pulled into the fray. Angie followed close behind, her hips already swaying to the rhythm.

y/n raised her arms above her head, her hips swiveling and rolling in time with the beat. She could feel the eyes of the men around her, could sense their hunger and appreciation, but she paid them no mind.

…

Once the song came to an end, Y/N, Angie, and Heather made their way off the dance floor, their skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. They weaved through the crowd, heading towards the table where their friends were seated.

Nico, Jack, Marino, and Dawson were already deep in conversation, a collection of empty glasses scattered across the tabletop. They looked up as the girls approached, their eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of them.

"Well, well, well," Nico drawled, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Look what the cat dragged in." Y/N rolled her eyes, sliding into the booth beside him. Y/N couldn't help but smirk at Nico's playful banter.

 "Shut up, Nico. You know you missed us." She stated, shooting him a teasing glare before turning her attention to the others, her gaze meeting Jack's across the table. Marino chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast.

"To the beautiful ladies of the evening," he declared, his words slightly slurred. "May they never leave us lonely again."

Angie snorted, snatching the glass from his hand and taking a sip. "Thanks, Marino," Y/N replied with a laugh, raising her own glass in response. "But I make no promises about future loneliness." Jack chuckled, his voice low and warm as he leaned back in his seat.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he said, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Nico and Marino exchanged knowing glances, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they observed the interaction. Heather nudged Y/N discreetly, her eyebrows raised in silent encouragement.

Everyone fell into easy conversation, Y/N couldn't help but notice Jack's eyes on her, his gaze intense and unwavering. She tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the story Dawson was telling about his latest game. She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, but she held his gaze steadily, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

But Jack was persistent, leaning across the table to catch her attention. "Can we talk?" Jack's voice was soft, almost pleading, his eyes searching hers for an answer. Y/N felt a rush of emotions swirling inside her, uncertainty mingled with a hint of anticipation.

Y/N hesitated, a frown tugging at her lips. She glanced around the table, noticing for the first time that a certain blonde was conspicuously absent. "Where's Lexi?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I told her not to come."

Y/N's eyebrow arched higher, a skeptical expression crossing her features as she processed Jack's words. "Interesting," she mused, her tone laced with skepticism. "So, what? You're playing mediator now?"

Jack's gaze softened, a flicker of remorse flashing in his eyes. "Not exactly," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "She was your best friend, and she hurt Quinn's feelings."

Y/N couldn't help but scoff, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Mhmm."

Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he fixed her with an imploring look. "I know you're mad at me. Just let me fix this, let me talk to you. I know I don't deserve that tonight, and maybe I shouldn't be here either, but..."

Y/N held up a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. A wicked idea had taken root in her mind, a way to make Jack squirm, to make him feel even a fraction of the hurt and confusion she had been grappling with.

She leaned back in her seat, a devious smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "No, you should stay," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Jack blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. "Really?"

Y/N nodded, picking up her glass and taking a long, deliberate sip. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the group on her, could sense their confusion and anticipation. But she paid them no mind, her focus solely on Jack. She stood up from the table, her movements slow and sinuous, her hips swaying with every step.

"Enjoy your night, Jack," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "I know I will."

With that, she turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving a stunned Jack in her wake. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, could sense the weight of his gaze on her every curve and sway.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her waist, a strong grip steadying her as she stumbled. She looked up, her eyes meeting a pair of deep brown ones, a mischievous glint sparkling in their depths. "Careful there, gorgeous," the stranger said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Wouldn't want you to fall for anyone else tonight."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "You look like fun," she said, her fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer.

The stranger grinned, his hands tightening on her waist as he allowed her to pull him into the center of the dance floor. The crowd parted around them, the sea of bodies closing in once more as they found their rhythm.

From his spot at the table, Jack watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched tight. He saw the way the stranger's hands lingered on Y/N's curves, the way he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to march over there and tear the guy away from her, to finish the conversation they had started earlier. But Marinos hand on his shoulder held him back, a silent reminder that he had lost the right to interfere in Y/N's life.

Still, he couldn't tear his gaze away, couldn't ignore the jealousy burning in his gut as he watched Y/N dance with the stranger. Her hips swayed to the beat, her arms raised above her head as she lost herself in the music. The stranger's hands roamed her body, sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him.

Y/N didn't seem to mind, a coy smile playing at her lips as she ground her hips against his. She ran her fingers through the stranger's hair, tugging lightly at the strands as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Jack's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave marks. He knew he had no right to be angry, no right to feel possessive over a woman he had hurt so deeply.

But seeing her with someone else, watching her give herself over to the heat and the passion of the moment, it was a special kind of torture, a punishment he knew he deserved. He forced himself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around him. But his mind was miles away, lost in memories of the way Y/N's body had once moved against his own, the way her lips had tasted, the sound of her laughter in his ear.

He had taken it all for granted, had thrown it away for a fleeting moment of temptation. And now, watching her dance with a stranger, watching her come alive in a way he hadn't seen in weeks, he knew that he would do anything to win her back.

Even if it meant swallowing his pride and admitting the truth.

Jack sat at the table, his eyes glued to Y/N and the stranger on the dance floor. He couldn't help but scoff as he watched the guy's hands roam over her body, his lips curled in a sneer. "Who does this guy think he is?" he muttered, taking a swig of his beer. "He's all over her like some kind of octopus."

Nico leaned in, squinting at the dance floor. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes widening in recognition. "Isn't that Matt Rempe? From the Rangers?"

Jack's head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in on the stranger's face. Sure enough, it was none other than his longtime rival, the star player of the Rangers hockey team.

A surge of anger coursed through his veins, his grip tightening on his beer bottle. The Jersey Devils and the Rangers had been at each other's throats for years, their rivalry the stuff of legend. And now, seeing Matt Rempe with his hands all over Y/N, it was like a slap in the face, a personal insult he couldn't ignore.

Jack stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. His eyes scanned the club, searching for something, anything to take his mind off the sight of Y/N in Matt's arms.

And then he saw her.

A girl, standing at the edge of the dance floor, her hair the same rich shade as Y/N's, her body curved in all the right places. She was a dead ringer for the woman he liked, a doppelganger in every sense of the word.

Without a second thought, Jack made his way over to her, his strides purposeful and determined. He tapped her on the shoulder, flashing his most charming smile when she turned around. "Hey there," he said, his voice low and inviting. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. wanna dance?"

The girl's eyes widened, a flattered smile spreading across her face. "I'd love to," she said, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. Jack pulled her close, his hands settling on her hips as they began to move to the music. He made sure to position them in Y/N's line of sight, his eyes locking with hers over the girl's shoulder.

Y/N was still dancing with Matt, her back pressed against his chest, his hands splayed across her stomach. But her gaze was fixed on Jack, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Jack smirked, leaning down to whisper something in the girl's ear. She giggled, her head falling back against his shoulder, her body melting into his. He could feel Y/N's stare boring into him, could sense the anger and jealousy radiating off her in waves. And he reveled in it, a twisted sense of satisfaction unfurling in his chest.

Two could play at this game.

He spun the girl around, dipping her low, his hand splayed across the small of her back. She gasped, her arms winding around his neck, her body arching into his. Y/N couldn't take it anymore. The sight of Jack with that girl, his hands all over her, his eyes locked on Y/N's with a cruel, taunting gleam, it was too much to bear. She mumbled a quick excuse to Matt, pulling away from his embrace and making a beeline for the exit.

She burst through the doors, the cool night air hitting her flushed skin like a balm. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her.

Behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps, and she spun around to see Jack rushing out after her. He had a panicked look on his face, as if he had just realized the gravity of what he had done.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice desperate.

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Explain what, Jack? How you were just using that poor girl to get back at me? How you couldn't stand to see me happy, even for a moment?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. His shoulders were tense, hunched up to his ears as if he were bracing himself for a blow. "That's not what I was doing," he argued, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

"I was just..." He trailed off, his eyes searching Y/N's face, pleading for understanding. "I saw you with Matt, and I couldn't stand it. It was like something inside me snapped. I lost control."

He took a step closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he were fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Y/N. I swear, that was never my intention. I just..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I miss you. I miss us. And seeing you with him, seeing you in his arms, laughing at his jokes... it made me crazy. It made me feel like I was losing you all over again."

Y/N sighed, the anger that had been burning in her chest sputtering out like a candle flame deprived of oxygen. "I miss you too, Jack," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."

Jack hung his head, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his shame were physically pressing down on him. "I know," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so damn sorry. I never meant for things to get this twisted, this messed up. I never meant to hurt you like this."

Y/N took a step forward, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat of his body radiating against her skin. Slowly, tentatively, she reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the stubble that shadowed his jaw. "I know you didn't," she said softly, her eyes searching his.

Jack leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as if he were savoring the feel of her skin against his. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I want to make things right between us. I want to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve, the man you need me to be."

Y/N's heart clenched in her chest, a lump rising in her throat at the raw honesty in his words. She knew that he meant it, that he truly wanted to make things work between them. But she also knew that it wouldn't be easy, that they had a long road ahead of them if they wanted to rebuild what they had lost.

Still, looking into his eyes, seeing the love and the longing that shone there, she knew that she was willing to try. Because a life without Jack, a life without his laughter and his infuriating stubbornness... that wasn't a life she wanted to live.

"I want that too, Jack,” she whispered, her lips curving into a small, hopeful smile.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, they stood there, lost in each other's eyes, the rest of the world falling away. But the spell was broken by the sound of sarcastic laughter, and they turned to see Matt and his friends sauntering out of the club.

"Well, well, well," Matt sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as his eyes raked over Y/N's form, lingering on her curves with a lecherous gleam. "If it isn't the Jersey Devil's sloppy seconds."

Jack's entire body tensed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as a wave of rage crashed over him. "Watch your fucking mouth, Rempe," he yelled back.

Matt scoffed, his friends snickering behind him. "Please. She was grinding on me like a bitch in heat back there. Face it, Jack, your girl's nothing but a filthy little tease." Y/N's cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Shut up, Matt. You don't know what you're talking about."

Matt took a step forward, his towering frame looming over Y/N in a blatant attempt at intimidation. "I know a slut when I see one, sweetheart,” he leered, his eyes traveling the length of her body with a nauseating hunger. "And sweetheart, you've got 'fuck me' written all over you."

That was the final straw.

Jack lunged forward, his fist connecting with Matt's jaw with a sickening crack. Matt stumbled back, his hand flying to his face, his eyes wide with shock. Matt was quick to recover, charging at Jack with a primal snarl, his own fists flying with brutal precision.

His friends joined in, their fists flying as they tried to defend their teammate.

Y/N watched in horror as the fight escalated, Jack and Matt trading blows, their bodies slamming into the walls of the alleyway. She turned to run back inside, to get help, but she was stopped by the sight of Nico, Marino, and Dawson rushing out of the club, their faces contorted with anger.

They threw themselves into the fray, their fists flying as they tried to defend their friend. Y/N watched helplessly as the fight turned into an all-out brawl, bodies slamming into each other, blood splattering the pavement.

She knew she should do something, should try to break it up, but she was frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind reeling with the shock of it all. How had things escalated so quickly? How had a night of fun and flirtation turned into a brutal street fight?

She didn't know. All she knew was that she needed to get Jack out of there, needed to get him somewhere safe.

Heather and Angie burst through the club doors, their eyes widening at the chaotic scene before them. Without hesitation, they threw themselves into the fray, their high heels and manicured nails proving to be surprisingly effective weapons.

Heather grabbed one of the Rangers by the collar, yanking him off of Marino with a snarl. "Get your hands off him, you creep, he’s too small!" she yelled, her knee slamming into his groin with a satisfying crunch.

The Ranger howled in pain, doubling over and stumbling away, his hands cupping his injured pride. Heather dusted off her hands with a smirk, turning to help Angie, who was currently grappling with another one of Matt's cronies.

Y/N, meanwhile, had finally snapped out of her daze, her eyes locking onto Jack's form in the center of the melee. He was holding his own, his fists flying as he traded blows with Matt, but she could see the blood streaming from his nose, the bruises blooming on his cheekbones.

Without a second thought, she lunged forward, shoving her way through the crowd of brawling men. She reached Jack just as he landed a particularly vicious punch to Matt's ribs, sending the Ranger stumbling back with a grunt of pain.

"Jack!" she cried out, her hands reaching for him, desperate to pull him away from the fight. Jack turned to her, his eyes wild with adrenaline and rage. But as he took in the concern on her face, the fear in her eyes, his expression softened, the fight draining out of him.

"Y/N," he murmured, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, heedless of the blood staining his knuckles.

"Enough!" Heather barked, her voice ringing with authority. "Break it up, now, or I'm calling the cops." For a moment, no one moved, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. But then, slowly, reluctantly, the Rangers began to disengage, their faces twisted with resentment and barely suppressed rage.

Matt was the last to back down, his chest heaving with exertion as he glared at Jack with pure, unadulterated hatred. "See you at the next game Jack," he snarled, his split lip dripping with blood.

But Jack just smiled, the gesture cold and humorless. "I'll be waiting." he said, his voice calm.

...

@clairezegras @rebelatbay @ivy-34

[makeila04]

Black Ops Boys and how I realistically have a relationship with:

Ok, ok, I saw this idea from @quizzyisdone and @softcallofdutyimagines, so, even though no one asked me, I also want to do my version of Black Ops Boys and how I realistically have a relationship with them.

Alex Mason: Well, honestly, I don’t think I could be his girlfriend or anything. Sorry, I’d be scared. I’ve been with people with mental health issues before, and I have a strong limit and fear around that. I completely understand it wasn’t his fault, but I’m sorry. HOWEVER, I could definitely be his friend. I love helping, and he strikes me as one of the kindest and gentlest of the group. He’s already a father, but that doesn’t bother me. I couldn’t be David’s stepmom, but I could be like the cool aunt. I love him; the Masons give me such warm feelings.

4/10 (Couldn’t have a relationship, but we’d have a nice friendship.)

Frank Woods: Honestly, he wouldn’t be my first choice, but I wouldn’t rule out falling for him. Maybe at first, we’d clash a lot, but with some common ground, we could gradually connect. I’m not a fan of burgers, but I’d definitely go out to eat with him or have burgers sitting on the car in some deserted spot at night. If he likes cleaning guns or something, I’d help him, ask questions, and if he lets me, I’d even assist. I love how direct and honest he is because I’m the same way. The good thing is that I could trust him from minute one because of this. I love his rugged style, so despite initial differences, we could definitely click. He probably smells like strong deodorant, strong cologne, or maybe even sweat sometimes—love that. You’d probably find him lifting weights or something, but I could sit nearby while he works out or does anything. A recurring plan would definitely be going to a bar at night, which I love, by the way. Sometimes I feel like he’s too rude or childish, but I think I have enough tolerance for that. Also, your sex life with him would be super active, but maybe exhausting—maybe too rough or passionate, but he knows what he’s doing. He’d treat you well for sure, a god in bed, though maybe rough or very much his own way. I’d love to hug him and cuddle with him anywhere. I love his beard, by the way, and his humor.

8.5/10 (I don’t have many complaints, but I feel like the beginning might be tough.)

Russell Adler: On the contrary, maybe unlike many, I feel like he’s the one I’d get along with best. Maybe because he and my dad are both ENTJs… and seriously, I played BO6 often predicting his dialogue or actions just because it’s the same thing my dad would do. I feel like I could handle him well and without issues. I’m quite introverted, and the fact that he’s extroverted makes me fall for him even more. I understand that he probably isn’t 100% the same guy we see in the games (since we see him working and in high-risk situations), but he’d probably be calmer in real life. I do think he’d be a VERY possessive boyfriend, but honestly, I wouldn’t have a problem with that. Mind you, I don’t think he’d get jealous because you have friends—Adler is too self-assured at 54 to worry about that. But he’d definitely be VERY protective, maybe because of you, maybe because of his work and everything he’s been through. Again, I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t think it would be an easy relationship, precisely because of everything he’s been through (divorce, MK-Ultra, betrayal multiple times, etc.), but I’ve got my own baggage too, so I’d try to remind him that we’re a team and support each other. I also think that, at least because of my age, the relationship would be more like a sugar daddy situation. If you see something you like, you get it—no doubt. He’d also give you gifts for any reason or just because something reminded him of you. Also, like with Woods, I feel like the sex life would be super active, especially because I’m young (and inexperienced). I feel like if I told him that, it would only make him more possessive and maybe even more into me because of the age difference. A god in bed, no doubt. Seriously, I feel like if you win this man over, he’d find the age difference more attractive than anyone else.

10/10 (Honestly, I love him. And me being an INTJ, ENTJs are my weakness.)

Jason Hudson: Honestly, I think he’s a know-it-all, which generally isn’t my type… but I’m very curious, so even though I feel like he’s calmer than ALL the others, that also has its own charm for me, in his own way. I imagine if I were his girlfriend, I’d be sitting on his lap while he’s in his home office or something, hugging him. I don’t think he’d be the most passionate; I feel like he’s more focused on his work. But like with Adler, I prefer that and men who are focused on their work, as long as they don’t smother me. So for Adler and Hudson, that’s a plus for me. I don’t think he’d be the most passionate, but he definitely wouldn’t say no some nights… if he doesn’t overwork himself. I also think he tries to take care of his sleep. He’d probably treat you super well, and he’s definitely a walking encyclopedia who knows practically everything and has an answer for everything. I don’t think he’d lose his cool over any problem you have—he’s used to MUCH more stressful things. I do think he has a lot of patience, but he’s way too serious.

7/10 (If you like more serious men and dating someone who’s probably the boss both at work and at home, then he’s great. But maybe he’s too serious for me. I’d give him extra points if we were friends, but as a boyfriend, I think it’d be more complicated sometimes.)

Grigori Weaver: Honestly, I love him. I share a lot of traumas and fears with Weaver (I don’t want to go too deep into personal stuff, but let’s say I relate way too much). I think if he fell in love with me and stopped being a womanizer, it’d be the best. The issue is that at first, it’d be hard for me to trust him in a relationship because, well, he’s a womanizer. Keep in mind I also don’t have much experience. My fear would be being just another name on his list, but honestly, Weaver hasn’t been a womanizer by choice. In his case, I think even if he wanted a stable relationship, his life just didn’t allow it.

Still, if I were his girlfriend, I’d probably spend all day sitting on his lap while he works or does something. I heard he’s a good mechanic, so I’d be by his side if he’s fixing a car or something, asking him what he’s doing and how it works. I’d love to hug him all day, whether in bed, on the couch, in a chair—whatever. I don’t care; I love hugs, and I know Weaver loves them too, even if he’d never ask for one. I’m very much into physical touch, and I love his beard (I’m obsessed with Weaver in Black Ops 6, what can I say?), so I’d spend all day touching it—his beard, his hair, everything about him. I love cooking, and I’d love to cook some traditional Soviet dish for him.

It’d be a challenge, but I’d do it, though it’d be better if I had direct help—I’d make him help me, haha. I notice Weaver has a lot of trauma, and sometimes it’s hard for him to express it, especially if no one listens. But as someone who’s had the same issue for years, I’d try to help him and encourage him to move forward, even though losses hurt and we can’t make the pain go away, we can make it bearable together. Seriously, this guy is extremely loyal and kind—he even set Woods up on a date. Do you think this guy wouldn’t do anything for me if I were his girlfriend? He’s desperate for a genuine, real human connection. Imagine how he’d be if he got it.

He’s been saving Maxis since 1979 until 1991—this guy is loyal and perseverant. I also think because of all this, he’s very protective, and you already know I love that.I don’t think he’d be as intense sexually in terms of frequency, maybe compared to Adler or Woods, but this guy definitely has a master’s degree in sex. He’d do anything to me; the question would be whether I could handle it or not, and honestly, I’m scared to answer that myself. If you enjoy sex with him, that’s for sure, but I don’t think he’d brag about it. I also don’t think the age difference would bother him—in fact, I don’t think he’d even think about it. He wouldn’t care

10/10 (I feel like we’d fit really well and be super sweet together.) (Hopefully, we’d work through our traumas together.)

Lazar: Seeing how he treated Park in Cold War, I feel like he’d overwhelm me a lot at first. It’d be hard for me to fall for him quickly, no matter how charming he is. Yes, I like him; yes, I’m physically attracted to him; yes, I love that because of his size, he’s a GIANT BEAR FULL OF HAIR; and yes, I like his personality. It’s just that being so intense is a downside for someone like me. Maybe he’s just not my type, and that’s it. Also, way too extroverted for my taste—I have limits, sorry.

If I saw him in person, I’d first get lost in his eyes, then become aware of how small I am next to him, and while that would excite me, it’d also intimidate me, haha. Even though I don’t think he’s as much of a womanizer as Weaver, I do feel like he wouldn’t be too committed unless he wanted to be. Nope, you can’t change him. So maybe if you want something more casual and without commitment, you’d like him more. Again, he’s not my type for a formal relationship. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy it, haha. I do think he’d be overly sweet or maybe demand too much of my attention, which would drive me crazy. I feel like he’d be very sweet both in and out of bed, and he’d probably give you gifts or take you out on dates often—very tender.

5.7/10 (If you’re looking for something casual and a guy who’s VERY attentive to you, he’d probably be more your type. Unfortunately, not mine.)

+Bonus

William Peck: I always hated him in Cold War but in Black Ops 6 I honestly like him (I'm still waiting for a backstab but ok). He has a shitty character that I barely tolerate but ironically that makes me laugh. He's too smart and conceited. I usually get irritated by know-it-alls BUT at the same time that about Peck and his humor makes me like him. I wouldn't be his girlfriend for anything, but if he asked me out on a date I would definitely accept. Who knows, it could even be fun. Specially if you're interested in spending 2 hours listening to someone like a fucking living podcast. I would honestly love to challenge him intellectually.

I wouldn't have sex with him even if they paid me.

______________________________________________________________

Ok ok, le vi esta idea a @quizzyisdone y a @softcallofdutyimagines asi que, aunque nadie me preguntó, yo también quiero hacer mi versión de Black Ops Boys and how I realistically have a relationship with

Alex Mason: bueno, honestamente no creo que pudiera ser su novia o algo. Perdón, me daría miedo, he estado con gente con problemas mentales antes y tengo un límite muy fuerte y miedo. Entiendo completamente que no fue su culpa, pero lo siento. PERO si que sin duda podría ser su amiga. Me encanta ayudar, además se me hace de los más amables y gentiles, ya es padre pero no me molesta. No podría ser madrastra de David pero si como esa tía cool. Lo amo, me dan ternura los Mason. 

4/10 (no podría tener una relación pero sí una linda amistad)

Frank Woods: Honestamente no sería mi primera opción pero no descartaría que pudiera enamorarme de él. Tal vez al inicio choquemos demasiado, pero con cosas en común podríamos ir conectando poco a poco. No soy fan de las hamburguesas pero podría ir a comer con él sin duda o comer hamburguesas sentados sobre el auto en alguna noche y descampado. Si le gusta limpiar armas o algo podría ayudarlo, curiosear y preguntar y si me deja hasta ayudar. Amo que sea tan directo y honesto porque soy igual, lo bueno es que podría confiar en él desde el minuto uno por esto. Amo su estilo rudo así que sin duda, a pesar de diferencias iniciales, podríamos congeniar. Seguramente huele a desodorante fuerte, perfume fuerte o tal vez hasta sudor algunas veces, amo.

Seguro lo encuentras haciendo pesas o algo pero podría sentarme cerca mientras hace ejercicio o cualquier cosa. Seguramente un plan recurrente sea ir a algún bar de noche, plan que amo por cierto. A veces siento que es muy grosero o infantil pero creo que tengo la suficiente tolerancia. Además que tu vida sexual con él sería mega activa, pero tal vez agotadora, tal vez muy rudo o pasional pero sabe lo que hace, te trataría bien sin duda, un dios en la cama aunque tal vez rudo o muy a su manera. Amaría abrazarlo y estar con él acurrucada donde sea, amo su barba por cierto y su humor.

8.5/10 (No tengo muchas quejas, solo siento que podría costar el inicio)

Russell Adler: Al contrario, tal vez, que muchos, yo siento que sería con el que mejor podría congeniar. Tal vez porque él y mi padre sean ENTJ… y en serio, jugué BO6 adelantandome muchas veces a sus diálogos o acciones solamente porque es lo mismo que haría mi papá. Siento que con esto podría sobrellevarlo bien y sin problema. Soy bastante introvertida y que él sea extrovertido hace que me enamore más. Entiendo que seguramente no sea al 100% el mismo tipo que vemos en los juegos (porque ahí lo vemos trabajando y situaciones de riesgo) pero seguramente sería más tranquilo. Si creo que sería un novio MUY posesivo pero honestamente no tendría problema, ojo, no creo que se ponga celoso porque tienes amigos, Adler es muy seguro de sí mismo como para preocuparse por eso a los 54 años. Lo que sí también sería MUY protector, tal vez por ti, tal vez por su trabajo y todo lo que ha vivido, repito, yo no tengo problema con eso. No creo que fuera a ser una relación fácil, justamente por todo lo vivido (divorcio, MK-ultra, traición muchas veces, etc.) pero yo también tengo lo mío así que intentaría que recordara que ambos somos un equipo y apoyo el uno del otro. También creo que, al menos por mi edad, la relación sería más como un sugar daddy. Si ves algo que te gusta, lo tienes, ni lo dudes, te regalaría cosas también por cualquier motivo o simplemente porque algo le recordó a ti. Aunque, como con Woods, siento que la vida sexual sí sería mega activa, sobre todo porque soy joven (y no tengo experiencia) siento que si le digo eso sólo sería para que él sea más posesivo aún y tal vez tenga más ganas por la diferencia de edad. Un dios en la cama sin duda. En serio, siento que si convences a este hombre puede hasta encontrar atractiva la diferencia de edad más que ninguno.

10/10 (Honestamente me encanta. Y yo siendo INTJ pues los ENTJ son mi debilidad.)

Jason Hudson: Honestamente creo que es un sabelotodo, cosa que por lo general, no me gustan estos tipos en general…peeero si soy muy curiosa, así qué aunque siento que es más calmado que TODOS los anteriores eso también tiene un encanto para mí, a su propio modo. Me imagino que si fuera su novia podría estar en su regazo mientras está en su oficina en la casa o algo mientras lo abrazo. No creo que sea el más pasional, siento que está más enfocado en su trabajo, pero como con Adler, yo prefiero eso y a hombres enfocados en su trabajo, con tal de que no me sofoquen a mi. Así que para Adler y Hudson eso a mi les suma puntos. No creo que sea el más pasional pero seguro no te dice que no alguna que otra noche…si no se pasa de tiempo trabajando. Igual creo que intenta cuidar su sueño. Seguramente te trata super bien y todo y también seguro es una enciclopedia andante que sabe prácticamente todo y tiene alguna respuesta para todo. No creo que pierda la calma por cualquier problema que tengas, está acostumbrado a cosas MUCHO más estresantes. Si creo que tiene mucha paciencia, pero es demasiado serio.

7/10 (Si te gustan los hombres más serios y salir con alguien que seguramente sea jefe dentro y fuera del trabajo pues está bien, pero tal vez sea demasiado serio para mí, le daría puntos extras si fuéramos amigos pero como novio creo que sí sería más complicado, a veces)

Grigori Weaver: Honestamente me encanta, comparto muchos traumas y miedos con Weaver (no quiero profundizar mucho por temas personales pero digamos que me identifico demasiado). Creo que si se enamora de mi y deja de ser mujeriego sería lo mejor, el tema es que al inicio me sería difícil confiar en él para una relación por bueno, ser mujeriego, tengan en cuenta que tampoco tengo demasiadas experiencias. Mi miedo sería ser solo una más en su lista pero siendo honestos Weaver no ha sido mujeriego tanto por gusto, en su caso creo que más bien aunque haya querido una relación estable digamos que su vida no se lo permitió. Aún así seguramente si fuera mi novio estaría todo el dia sentada en su regazo mientras trabaja o hace algo. Escuché que es buen mecánico así que estaría a su lado si arregla algún auto o algo y le preguntaría qué hace y cómo funciona lo que sea que esté arreglando. Amaría abrazarlo todo el día sea en la cama, sofá, silla, lo que sea, no me importa, amo los abrazos y sé que Weaver también los ama aunque nunca te pediría uno. Yo soy mucho de contacto físico y amo su barba (me encanta Weaver en Black Ops 6, qué decirte) así que me la pasaría tocandola, su barba, su cabello, todo de él. Me encanta cocinar y amaría cocinar algún plato típico sovietico para él, sería un reto pero lo haría, aunque sería mejor si tengo ayuda directa, lo haría que me ayude jeje. Si noto que Weaver tiene demasiados traumas y a veces le cuesta expresarlo sobre todo si no lo escuchan pero como alguien que tuvo el mismo problema por años intentaría ayudarlo e incentivarlo a ir hacia el futuro en todo momento, aunque las pérdidas duelan y no podamos hacer que el dolor disminuya si podemos hacerlo ameno juntos. En serio, el tipo es sumamente leal y amable, hasta le organizó una cita a Mason,¿Qué acaso crees que este tipo no haría lo que sea por mi si fuera su novia? el tipo está desesperado por una conexión humana, genuina y real, imaginate como se pondría si la obtuviera. Viene salvando a Maxis desde 1979 hasta 1991, este tipo es leal y perseverante. También creo que por todo lo anterior es muy protector y  ya saben que a mí eso me encanta. Creo que no sería tan intenso sexualmente con la frecuencia, tal vez como Adler o Woods, pero definitivamente este tipo tiene un master en sexo. A mi me haría cualquier cosa, ya el tema estaría en si puedo aguantar o no y honestamente me da miedo responderme eso a mí misma. Si disfrutas mucho con él en el sexo, eso es seguro, pero no creo que presuma. Tampoco creo que la diferencia de edad sea algo que le moleste, es más, creo que ni pensaría algo sobre eso, le da igual.

10/10 (Siento que encajamos muy bien y seríamos muy tiernos juntos) (ojalá arreglar nuestros traumas juntos)

Lazar: Viendo como trataba a Park en Cold War siento que me podría abrumar mucho en un inicio. Me sería difícil enamorarme rápido de él por más encantador que fuera. Si, me gusta, si me atrae fisicamente, si, amo que por su tamaño SEA UN OSO GIGANTE LLENO DE PELO y si, me gusta su personalidad, solamente que ser tan denso para alguien como yo le resta puntos. Tal vez solo no es mi tipo y ya. Además, demasiado extrovertido para mi gusto, tengo límites, perdón. Si lo viera en persona primero me perdería en sus ojos, luego sería consciente de lo pequeña que soy a su lado y si bien me excitaría eso a la vez me intimidaría jeje. Aunque no creo que sea tan mujeriego como Weaver si siento que no tendría demasiado compromiso a menos que él quiera, nop, no puedes cambiarlo. Asi que tal vez si quieres algo más casual y sin compromiso te guste más, repito, no sería mi tipo para una relación formal. Eso no significa que no disfrute jeje. Si creo que sería empalagoso o tal vez requiera mi atención demasiado, cosa que me desesperaría. Siento que sería muy dulce dentro y fuera de la cama y te podría hacer regalos o invitarte a planes seguido, muy tierno.

5.7/10 (Si buscas algo casual y un chico MUY atento a ti seguramente sería más tu tipo, por desgracia no el mío)

+Bonus

William Peck: siempre lo odié en Cold War pero en Black Ops 6 honestamente me cae bien (sigo esperando una apuñalada por la espalda pero ok). Tiene un carácter de mierda que apenas tolero pero irónicamente eso me da risa. Es demasiado inteligente y presumido. Por lo general me irritan los sabelotodo PERO a la vez eso en Peck y por su humor hace que me caiga bien. Ni loca podría ser su novia, pero si me invitara a una cita sin duda aceptaría. Quien sabe, hasta podría ser divertido. Sobre todo si te interesa pasar 2 horas seguidas escuchando a alguien como un maldito podcast viviente.Honestamente amaría retarlo intelectualmente.

No tendría sexo con él ni aunque me pagaran.

[rowdyluv]

Emersyn learns to chirp.

Luke takes Emersyn to some of the non-mandatory practices so she can see some of the guys that are her favorites and her proclaimed friends, outside of game nights.

He loves having her there hearing her laughter with the staff feel the rink about the slashes of skates and sticks hitting the pucks. Evidence she’s having a good time. It wasn’t until Quinn had sent her a new book to help her learn animal noises that Luke was apprehensive about taking her. Her favorite sound learned so far is a bird sound. His two year old couldn’t be enamored by the quack sound or the long moo sound. It just had to be "chirp" and Jack loved twisting it on him.

Luke’s worst nightmare: every single teammate is at a non-mandatory practice and Jack is there wearing the biggest shit eating grin on his face. Emersyn wiggles and wiggles until Luke puts her down. She toddles over to Jack tossing her hands up and rocking back and forth on her tippy-toes.

“Hey little E.” He coos and kisses her cheek. “Wanna show everybody what you’ve learned since you last saw them?” Of course she’s nodding her head, her curls flopping around. Luke? He’s glaring holes through Jack. If looks could kill he’d be dead 10x over.

They go through a handful of animals and luke was sure he’d escaped the scene that unfolded next.

“Okay baby girl, last one. What does a bird say?” Everyone falls silent waiting, “uncle J! They chirp! Chirp chirp chirp.” She wiggles out of his arms hoping around the room repeating chirp. Over and over.

“Hey emersyn, come here i have a secret for you.” Curtis calls her over. Luke is now watching him and his innocent little girl. The real fear he had. Excitedly she hopped right up to him.

“In hockey, we chirp at each other like birdies chirp. Actually sometimes i chirp at your daddy for fun.” Curtis could see the gears turning in the little 2 year olds head before she turned around in the blink of an eye and took off.

“Dada! Dada! Chirp chirp i chirp you like hims do!” emersyn squeals jumping up and down pointing back from where she came. Jack and John burst out laughing. Luke grits out a smile at his beaming baby girl but he can’t wait to smash Curtis into the boards for finding someway to make her chirp sound obsession even more ridiculously annoying.

[djloveyou3000]

I have something to say if Lilo and Stitch came out in the 80s bell would be obsessed and would love stitch I’m curious on what you guys would think the others in Cold War and black ops 6 what would be their favourite Disney and Pixar movies

[toasttt11]

trust

April 16, 2024

Lucia bit her lip smiling softly as John gently pulled back and away from her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” John asked softly as he held her face delicately in his hands, he wished to stay with her longer but he had to pack up his apartment with everything he’s bringing home.

Lucia had told John once he got back that she told her siblings and she was sure that Jack had already told her parents too and John just smiled and said he had called his twin when he went to get breakfast and told him as well and Paul told their parents for John already.

John had an idea to ask Lucia tomorrow and he hoped she would said yes and it wasn’t too soon for it.

“Tomorrow.” Lucia repeated soflty and pressed a kiss on John’s freckle next to his lip and gave him one more soft smile before he reluctantly turned around and walked out of her apartment and she watched him the whole way until he got into the elevator and the shut her front door.

Lucia leaned her back on her front door letting out a breath and rubbing her face.

Lucia shook her head smiling to her self before she walked to the living room and smiled softly seeing John left his hoodie and pulled it on and inhaled deeply smelling John’s scent before she plopped onto the couch and grabbed the blanket throwing it over her and turning her phone on.

Lucia was just scrolling through her phone for a little while before her phone started buzzing for a facetime in her group chat with Dylan, Ethan and Mark and she answered she saw all of boys faces and smiled softly, she missed seeing them all the time.

“Cece!” Dylan happily beamed greeting his best friend.

“Hey.” Lucia smiled back.

Ethan beamed and Mark smiled happily at her.

Lucia contently listening to her boys tell her all about their week as she hadn’t been able to talk much the past few days so they had quite alot to catch up on.

Lucia was mostly just laughing and pipping in with a chirp every once in a while.

“Ok okay enough about us. What’s going on with you Cece?” Mark sweetly asked his best friend.

It was a very weird adjustment for Dylan, Ethan and Mark to not have Lucia with them all the time, she wasn’t sitting next to them in class, wasn’t in the locker room, wasn’t sitting in their booth at the cafe, wasn’t on her spot on the couch for movies nights. They slowly got use to it and it makes them pretty excited to hear about what she has been doing away from them.

“Uh..” Lucia trailed off and flushed slightly, “John asked me to be his partner yesterday.” Lucia admitted with surprisingly giddy smile.

Ethan, Dylan and Mark all shared a look they have heard all about John and at first they thought he was just becoming a good friend to Lucia but over time they quickly realized that was not what was happening.

The three were skeptical of John and rightfully so after how Mackie broke Lucia heart and Mackie was their friend before he did so.

But the three also knew they had to trust Lucia’s judgment and John had to be pretty special if he managed to get past Lucia’s walls and makes her this smiley and blush so easily.

Besides they could John the shovel talk once they see him in person.

“When did he ask you?” Ethan questioned curiously.

“He asked me last night.” Lucia answered playing with the sleeves on John’s hoodie.

“I’m happy for you Cece.” Mark smiled softly at his best friend, “If John makes you happy that’s all i could wish for.”

“We are all happy for you Cece.” Dylan corrected but still softly smiled at her.

“He’s obviously a good guy and if you trust him, we trust him.” Ethan reassured her, they were all still weary after Mackie especially with how much he had hurt all of them but John earned Lucia’s trust slowly and John never pushed Lucia once to be ready.

Lucia smiled appreciatively at her best friends and couldn’t wait to have her best friends meet John in person.

[adoredandruined]

One Happy Family

Kristof Lazar x F Reader

Following the events of 'Abigail', you spend as much time as you can with your son, Caleb, trying to forget what happened. Unfortunately, Lazar has other plans for you, Joey.

Content Warnings: smut so MDNI, threat, non con, dub con, coercion/blackmail, blood, commands, masturbation, praise, overstimulation, manhandling, pet names (darling, dear), fingering (f receiving), turning (vampire bite), choking with a belt, breath play, dacryphilia, unprotected p in v (only fools don't wrap their tools), creampie, cum play Do let me know if I've forgotten anything :) Word Count: 4.3K

The sun had long since set, a deep navy blanket filled with the pinholes of distant stars above the bright coloured lights of the carnival. Halloween weekend was in full swing and the carnival was no exception. 

Strobes from the rides danced across the ground, twinkling and swirling, shooting out into the empty sky, a beacon to all for miles around. The usually empty field came alive with laughter and chatter. Cheerful music played over cheap speakers that echoed through the crowds of families bustling around, moving from ride to ride in an effort to complete it all in a single night. Children pointed and pulled hands to get a closer look, pupils blown wide in wonder. 

Cotton candy and donut scents wafted through the air, mouth watering and enticing in their sugared delights. Carnival workers shouted and rallied groups to them with the potential of winning oversized teddies and fancy gadgets. 

With boots squelching in the muddied floor a new scent caught your attention, the smell of greasy fairground burgers, and your stomach growled in want. You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale, the scent alone would have to suffice. This weekend was not about you. 

“Come on!” Caleb whined. 

Your son tugged on your hand, full of excitement, pulling you towards the bumper cars. 

“Alright, I’m coming. What’s the rush, buddy?” You chuckled, allowing him to weave his way between people to reach his destination. 

“There’s no-one in the line, we’ll be first!” He shouted, giving another tug. 

You laughed again, his warm smile filling your heart with happiness. Spending time with Caleb every weekend had become your new favourite pastime. Seeing joy in his small round face you couldn’t imagine going back to your old ways again. You sighed heavily, smile faltering. 

Your old ways. You peered down at him on the end of your arm, still giggling and tugging you along. His face alight with that beaming smile, one he offered whenever you picked him up after school, is why you stay clean. All of your dark thoughts are banished in the wake of seeing him so happy again. 

A yawn threatened to emerge, keeping your lips tightly shut to stifle the sign of your exhaustion. Working double shifts at the hospital keeps you busy. Gruelling but honest work, the shadows beneath your eyes hide little of the toll it takes on your body, but it keeps your mind from straying back into the dark, into all that has occurred in recent times. Caleb makes it all worth it. 

You should never have taken that stupid job. 

But when you hit rock bottom an offer of 7 million dollars is a hard cheque to pass up. It would’ve guaranteed a better life for you both, somewhere far away and somewhere new. The meagre late shift wages you made now couldn’t compare to what you could’ve done together with money like that. You blinked hard at Caleb, finding him staring up at you with a concerned look in his eyes as you spaced out. You pulled a tight smile, a simple nod to assure him you were ok, and he was back to his toothy grin. You poured all your focus onto that. On him. 

You just have to show up. 

The wordsof the young prima ballerina rang through your mind. For all her murderous intentions she had been right about one thing. Caleb didn’t seem to care for expensive gifts or trips out every time you were together. He just wanted to see you, for you to be there. 

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, focusing back on the small hand that had finally stopped pulling. You waited in line for the bumper cars as Caleb chattered about his school, his friends and anything else he could think of that he hadn’t told you since last weekend. You listened with rapt attention, sure that this moment couldn’t be better. You didn’t even mind if he repeated himself. He was happy to be with you and that’s what filled your aching heart with joy. 

---

Hours passed in the blink of an eye. You had been on every ride, some even twice, and Caleb was beginning to show signs of slowing, his energy finally waning. You suggested one final time around the Ferris wheel for the view of the city and a stop for donuts before heading home. Caleb thought for a moment, reluctant to leave it seemed, before he nodded enthusiastically, toothy smile broad on his face. You smiled back, a similar grin stretching your features. 

As you turned, you felt your body collide with a much smaller frame. You began to rush out an apology to the little girl you had just run into when all colour drained from your face. Your pulse quickened and your heart pounded heavily in your chest.

Her angelic face beamed up at you, predatory smile like a mask, hands clasped behind her back as she swayed on her feet. Her simple ballet practice uniform did nothing to hide the monster from your view. 

“Abigail” You smiled tightly, squeezing Caleb’s hand a little tighter in the presence of danger. “How lovely to see you” 

You darted your eyes over the crowd, palms becoming clammy as fear crept up your spine. You quickly scanned her for signs of the death and carnage she was likely here to commit, memories of all you had witnessed in the mansion flooding back to you in disturbing detail. 

“Your father is-” You began. 

“He’s here. Somewhere” Abigail smiled. 

Her expression made you uneasy. Correction, it downright terrified you. You tried your damnedest not to let Caleb see your fear; the last thing you wanted was for him to be afraid. You were having such a wonderful time too. 

You watched as Abigail introduced herself to Caleb, shaking his hand in an awkward gesture, his brows furrowing in confusion. He looked to you for guidance and Abigail settled her gaze on you too, daring you to intervene with a sick grin. You smiled at Caleb in what you hoped was a reassuring look. You glanced around at the crowds of people, praying for a way out of this nightmare. 

“We’re going on the Ferris wheel, want to come?” Caleb beamed. 

You groaned inwardly. Of all the girls your nervous son had to pluck up the courage to speak to, why did it have to be her? She’d be a lovely sweet girl, if it wasn’t for her vampiric nature. Abigail nodded enthusiastically and reached out her hand. 

Caleb let go of yours, taking Abigail’s outstretched one as they turned away. You lunged forward to save your son from impending doom when a strong hand clasped your shoulder, freezing you in place. 

“I’m sure the children will be fine for a while. Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?” The chilling voice of Kristof Lazar cooed in your ear. Your heart stopped along with your body, terror leaking through your masked expression. Caleb looked worried, beginning to move toward you and away from Abigail. Lazar’s hand gripped harder, the sharp points of his nails digging in and making you wince. 

A warning. 

You twisted your face back into a smile, nodding for the children to leave. You didn’t trust your voice not to betray your true feelings. As they hurried away, Abigail leading an unsure Caleb, your pulse was pounding in your throat. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spew the overpriced junk food and soda from your stomach. 

“Well done. Slitting your throat in front of your son would have been…distasteful” he whispered, the cruel smile tinging his words. 

“Please”, you begged, “he has nothing to do with any of this. He’s innocent” 

Lazar scoffed. “There is no such thing. Not in humans” 

You closed your eyes as tears threatened to fall. You felt Lazar leave your back, his slow steps felt in the pit of your stomach as he came to stand in front of you. A finger under your chin had your eyes shooting open, your natural instinct to recoil at the touch. His penetrating stare held you in place, preventing you from fleeing. Your bottom lip trembled as you found your voice again. 

“Don’t hurt him, I beg you. Do what you want to me but leave him. Please” you begged again, imploring the cold-hearted man for mercy. 

“Your son will be unharmed, if you do exactly as instructed. You’re rather good at following orders, aren’t you?” he smiled, dropping his hand from your chin. “Walk” 

Your body seemed to move against your will as Lazar lead you away from the crowds, away from Caleb, towards a tinted stretch limousine concealed behind the vast shrubbery surrounding the carnival. Two guards, pale and muscled, stood guard and opened the door for you, the pitch dark interior filling you with dread. You slowed to a stop as the feeling of death racing towards you built and received a firm hand on your lower back in response. 

“Now, now. I’ll have none of that” 

You turned your head slightly, a view of the top of the Ferris wheel coming into view. This was for Caleb. You would do anything to protect him. 

You dared not look Lazar in the eye, swallowing deeply as you ducked to climb into the car, sliding onto the plush leather seats and pushing yourself to the farthest side, you hoped away from the monster. 

The door slammed behind you, encasing the interior in total black. You felt too exposed, too vulnerable blinded. The sounds of your own breathing echoed around the vehicle and your pulse raced beneath your skin, the feel of your own veins pumping blood a dizzying sensation. For an age there was nothing but eerie silence. You thought perhaps this was all Lazar had intended; to scare you. Ensure your silence for the aftermath of a job gone wrong. But you knew he was not a merciful, nor a forgiving man. 

A single light appeared above the middle seat, illuminating your left side where you were pressed against the window.

“Move into the light” 

Lazar’s voice came from opposite you, too close for comfort, as the bright light showed only his suited legs, crossed with ankle over knee. You remained frozen in place, your eyes squinting through the darkness to see more of him. 

“Don’t make me ask again, darling” he said, a low rumble coating his words, animalistic in nature. 

You did as instructed, sliding slowly into the light with shaking hands pressing into cold black leather. You tried to calm your breathing, taking deep inhales as you discreetly wrung your hands of nervous sweat. Your mind strayed to Caleb alone with Abigail again. Your only wish was that he would remain safe. You prayed he would remain that way. 

“Take that awful sweater off” he commanded. 

You hesitated, frowning at his insult and confused at his lack of threats. You expected torture and gore; this unnerved you more. You slowly removed the apparently offensive garment, placing it alongside you. 

“I’d order you to burn it if we had the time” he growled out. 

His disgust at a piece of clothing would be comical if you weren’t afraid for your life and the life of your son. 

“Your shirt. Take it off” 

Any humour fled the limousine. He was commanding you to strip. You gulped at the implication, as if you didn’t feel vulnerable enough. You kept your hands stiffly at your sides, hands clenched in fists to keep from shaking. You stared into the darkness at him, willing confidence into your expression with your refusal. 

“Defiance is not an attractive trait on you. Refuse me again and I’ll have your son’s head” 

The thought brought bile to your throat, making you gag as you forced it down, your heartbeat quickening again. 

“If I do as you ask, you promise me he’ll be safe? You’ll let him go?” You asked the darkness. 

You were met with silence. 

“Answer me!” You shouted, anger filling you as the instinct to protect Caleb overrode everything, the sudden burst of confidence breaking through your terror. 

“I give you my word, he will be safe” Lazar sighed, his impatience slipping through his careful control. “Now-” you heard him shuffle against the seat as he resumed his relaxed position, a hand appearing in the light gesturing to your shirt. 

With another thick gulp you slowly unbuttoned your shirt, not meaning to be slow or sensual as your rattling hands wouldn’t allow you to fully clasp the buttons. You looked away to the dark window as you pulled the material from your torso, skin puckering with goose flesh in the cold air. You sucked in a shaky breath as you pushed your shirt on top of your sweater, beginning to cross your arms over your chest. 

“Ah, ah, ah” Lazar tuts, “hands down” 

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you return your clenched hands to your sides, tears beginning to fill your eyes. This is for Caleb, you thought, this will keep him safe. 

Lazar hummed in approval and you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting the praise of the demon in front of you. 

“Remove the rest, darling” 

Humiliated and terrified you remove your jeans, leaving them in a pool at your feet with your boots, tucking your shaking hands behind you to remove your bra. You cursed as the clasp kept slipping from your fingers, your eyes screwed shut to keep yourself from crying as your panic rose. The longer you took the more your hands shook, the cloying feel of death creeping up your spine. 

A shadow and sudden presence had your eyes shooting open. Lazar towered over you, one long clawed hand gripped the seat behind you as his other slid along the skin of your ribs to your back, painfully slow. His bright inhuman eyes locked with yours; a predator with his prey in sight. With a flick of his deft fingers the clasp shot open, and one tug to the front had it falling away from your arms, baring your naked breasts to him. 

You stared up in horror, eyes unable to leave his piercing stare as your chest shook with unshed cries. You heard the ripping of fabric as his claws raked marks through the leather behind your head, his teeth gritted and jaw flexing. He looked in pain as he stared down, gently reaching a clawed nail to graze your hard nipple. With the barest of touches hardening the bud he pulled away in a flash, returning to his seat opposite you in the blink of an eye. 

You let out a shaky gasp as the tension in the air lessened without his presence bearing down upon you. Without further command you began to remove your underwear. Lazar growled, a deep guttural and animalistic sound, halting your movements. 

“Leave them” 

It hardly sounded like him, the monster within taking over. You flicked your hands away from your undergarment like it burned your flesh, pushing yourself back against the seat in the hopes you would sink through the material to safety. 

You felt his eyes roving over your figure, devouring every inch of you, his hands gripping the back of the seats hard. The leather squeaked and buckled under his tight grip. As seconds passed of him simply staring at you, you awaited your inevitable death. With the thunder in his eyes you were sure that was his plan. To strip you, humiliate you, and then kill you. 

“Touch yourself” he said. 

You blinked, unsure if you had misunderstood him. As the confused look passed your face he spoke again. 

“I want you to touch yourself. Bring yourself to climax” 

He leant forward, just enough for you to see the smirk curling his vicious lips. A wicked, evil smile dripping with charm. You wondered how many women, and men, he had spoken to like this over his many centuries of undead life. An unnatural pang of something spread through your chest as your hand slowly trailed down your body, fingers slipping under the top of your underwear. Surely you weren’t jealous of others being demeaned like this? 

The tension in the car mounted, your prior disgust and humiliation beginning to melt away under his alluring gaze. He hummed his approval as you began to circle that small bundle of nerves, fear and surprising arousal driving your actions. 

Lazar set the pace. If you slowed, he snarled his disapproval, and if you quickened too much he would tut or hum, pleased with the control he had over your vulnerable form. 

“What a pretty sight” he hummed. 

He kept you teetering on the edge for what felt like hours, your body highly strung and ready to burst at any moment. He seemed to know exactly how close you were at all times, his unblinking stare never leaving your form. Specifically your eyes. He held your gaze firm and tight, challenging you to look away and lower your guard. Your heart thumped faster in your chest. You knew he would strike when your resolve broke. 

Your fingers sped up, slick covering your hand and likely the seat beneath you. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. How could you be deriving pleasure from this? 

As your movements increased, breathy gasps leaving your lips, Lazar made no sound to stop you. You took this opportunity to chase your high, tension pulled like an elastic band ready to snap. You couldn’t take it anymore. You felt the familiar coil of your approaching orgasm build, getting closer and closer to your peak. Your noises became more frequent, more moans and whimpers than hidden gasps now that shame was absent from the situation. 

That’s when you made a lethal mistake. Reaching the crest of your orgasm, your head thrown back and eyes shut, gaze broken from the vampire in charge. 

Lazar was on you before you could cry out. His body pushed yours into the seat, a hand in your hair to keep your head back whilst the other found your waist, keeping you pinned. Sharp fangs sank into your throat, tips piercing the artery and drawing your life force into his waiting mouth. He moaned openly against the wound as he sucked and licked, grinding against you on the seat. 

Your orgasm didn’t falter. It crashed over you like a tidal wave, vision flashing white as pain and pleasure mixed to form a crescendo that thrashed your body. Your hand came out of your underwear as quick as it had arrived, reaching up to push against Lazar as he drew more of your blood into his mouth. His hand quickly replaced yours, finding your clit and encircling it with expert fingers. He rubbed quick circles around the bud, drawing moans and whimpers as you cried from the overwhelming sensations, pushing your body into overstimulation.

You came again as his fangs released from your neck, his fingers still moving expertly against you. He watched with rapt attention as you came undone on his hand, leaking wetness across the seat beneath you. He had never been more enraptured. 

As his hand left your underwear you brought a shaky hand up to your neck, feeling the warmth of your own blood pulsing from the wound, beginning to coagulate with his venom. Your head swam with a dizzying sensation, body heating up as fire spread throughout your veins. 

“What-what have you done to me?” You whispered. 

Lazar didn’t answer. His usually bright eyes were flooded with darkness, lust taking over as he grabbed your body hold. He flipped you, pressing your face against the leather stained with blood and keeping it there, the other hand angling your hips towards his own. Your knees scraped against the floor of the limo, the hard floor grating against the skin. 

You felt his claws snap the bands of your underwear, the now useless cloth dropping to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to the monster behind you. Through your fuzzy head you heard him groan, running his fingers through your folds and gathering the wetness there. Turning your head as far as you could, you caught sight of him licking your wetness from his fingers, your release mixing with the blood staining his mouth. His eyes closed and he groaned, a throaty sound that had you clenching around nothing. It was a shamefully erotic sight. He caught you staring and held your gaze with a smirk. 

“Almost perfect” he sighed. 

He turned your head back around with a forceful shove of his hand, cutting of your view of his next moves. You could feel your pulse pound inside your skull, the feeling of blood still leaking from your neck and dripping down over your chest causing waves of pleasure as it passed over your burning skin. You heard his belt buckle loosen and the rustle of fabric, enough to know his next plans. 

Suddenly your head was wrenched back, cold leather wrapping around your throat and pulling you up until your back hit Lazar’s chest. His grip was like iron, your hands scrambling to pull at the collar he had fashioned from his belt. It worsened your already swimming head, pushing all other thoughts from your head aside from the man grinding into you. 

You felt his cock slide against you, gathering your wetness along his shaft. He leaned into your neck, licking and kissing his way up to your ear, his breath hot against you. 

“I have big plans for you, my darling. You and your son” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. 

Your heart froze. 

“What have you done to Caleb?” You groaned out, blood turning cold in your veins at the thought of him being harmed. 

Lazar continued to grind himself against you, threatening to pull your mind away from the pressing danger. 

“I’ve done nothing” he squeezed the belt a little tighter, “it’s what Abigail is doing” 

Panic rose as your breath failed you, vision blurring and darkness pulling at the edges. Lazar waited until the last possible moment to release the pressure, allowing you a momentary reprieve. You coughed, fingers still weakly pushing at the belt. He tightened his hold again, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Together, we’ll be a family” he whispered. 

You had but a second to contemplate his words, feeling the effects of his venom spreading through you, turning your body into a monster, before you felt his hips slam forward. You cried out at the intrusion, his cock stretching you and hitting all the way to the hilt, his hips pressed firmly against your backside. 

Lazar groaned out, enjoying the way your walls clenched around him the tighter he pulled the belt at your throat. He revelled in the control he had over your body, the ability to take your life should he choose, made him rock hard. He supposed he had already taken your life, gazing down at the wound on your neck. Your life would never be the same, and you would never escape him. 

He began to thrust his hips, pulling out agonisingly slowly only to snap his hips back into you. Tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes, mouth open with moans as his cock drilled into you, quickening in pace as he steadily lost control of his animalistic nature. He pulled your head all the way back, cutting off your air completely as his hips all but stopped. You felt his long tongue run up the side of your face, from your jaw to your cheek, collecting the wetness of your tears. You whimpered at the sensation, the sound small and vulnerable with lack of air. 

He growled into your ear, slamming his hips back into you and resuming his quick pace, loosening the belt enough to allow you breath. The obscene sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the limousines interior, broken only by your cries and Lazar’s groans of pleasure. His hand on your hip held you in a crushing grip, sure to leave bruises. If you survived this encounter.

You felt the familiar build of your orgasm approach, core tightening as you approached your release. Lazar could sense the change in you, the fluttering of your walls and the higher pitched cries that left your sweet lips his sign. This time he leaned down to your ear, bending his body over your back and forcing your hips to arch further into his, forcing his cock even deeper at this angle. 

“Cum for me. Cum and seal your fate, darling” he cooed. 

You had no mind to hold back, the monster at your back having fucked it out of you. Your orgasm crashed over you, heightened by his hips continuing to snap into you. He pushed your body into overstimulation, body shaking from one orgasm and racing towards another. Your vision was almost completely gone and your eyes rolled back inside your skull, thoughts only of the cock drilling so deliciously in and out of you. 

With a final grunt and a tug on the belt at your throat Lazar emptied himself inside you, pushing his hips flush with yours as you felt his warm release coat your walls. Your body shook, uncontrolled spasms wracking your weakened form. A searing pain shot through your neck, the wound burning. 

Lazar released his hold on the belt, allowing you to flop forward onto the stained seats. He pulled his cock slowly out of you, hissing at the sensation. He watched his release flow out of your quivering pussy, reaching down to push some back inside you, enjoying the way you whimpered. 

Your vision began to fade, exhaustion taking over your body. You felt strong arms wrap around you, picking you up with a quick grace and laying you in their lap. Your fading vision blinked up at Lazar, cradling your head on his lap and rubbing your hair. The action would be sweet if it were anyone else, and if you weren’t dying. 

“Sleep. Life begins anew when you awake” he said, planting a kiss against your forehead as your vision faded to black. 

You only hoped Caleb would forgive you. 

[mommahughes19-23]

Baby Devil - J.H

y/user : already in love with you 01/19/25

tagged : @jackhughes

jackhughes : WHEN, HOW, WHERE, DID YOU GET THE LITTLE OUTFIT 💓 🫨🤨😱

↪ nicohischier : @y/user he's quite literally crying in the shower ... I can hear him from my stall

↪ lhughes_06 : so like what if it isn't a girl and you spent ur money on a headband u won't use 🤨

↪ y/user : @lhughes_06 sir it is 2024 my child will wear it no matter the gender thank u vm

emeliekulikova : congrats my forever favorite WAG, miss you much pretty girl 💓

lexlexdemko : @y/user @jackhughes T and I are beyond thrilled for you guys! Can't wait to see some 'nucks swag on the little one!

tdemko30 : 💓 🫨 🤧

dawson1417 : STOKED to take the little one snowboarding

↪ y/user : @dawson1417 did u even ask u butthole? 🤨🫷🏻

_quinnhughes : about to be the BIGGEST Canucks fan we ever had

njdevils : Can't wait to add the little guy to the roster!

↪ y/user : OR GIRL @njdevils

↪ njdevils : 🫡 @y/user

curtislazar95 : we trust jack with children? where did we go wrong 🙅🏻

bradytkachuk : Emma wants to know when you will allow playdates to happen.

↪ y/user : well with that attitude @bradytkachuk for you NEVER, for Emma WHENEVER YOU WANT MY LOVE 💓

↪ ehtkachuk : I CANNOT WAIT!!!!!! @y/user

bradytkachuck : @y/user ROOD 🤧

A.N : Okie so here is this lil thing. Idk I saw the lil onesie pic and I HAD TO DO SOMETHING OK. This will be my last post of the night bc a girl is tired lol. I think I am gonna do something like this for a few other players maybe. I dont think imma be able to post anything till either tomorrow night or Monday so dont kill me please and thank you.

urrrrrm idk idk idk idk idk what else so thanks and bless Brandon Montour ... hope I missed nothing other than IDK WHY SOME OF THE COMMENTS WONT FORMAT HOW I WANT

ALSO bc she said please @skylershines here you go pookie pie momma <3

[withwritersblock]

going to be writing another mini novela for this lukey request. Will be back in like ten business days. (the request was for three parts but I will be writing it like I did with packing it up)

[wintfleur]

𓈒 ୭ৎ ˖˙ ᰋ ── BITCH , I’M A BRAT !

aka ophelia’s profile

━━━ ❛ miniskirt so cute and I’m bad, baby girl can I smash?

ꪆ୧ BASICS !

name: ophelia lazar  

nicknames: 

pheebs (everyone)

lia (parents)

aunty opie (owen her nephew) 

effy (luke) 

phia (jack) 

heather (seunghan)

birthday and zodiac : April 11th 2002, Aries 

location:

vernon, British Columbia (formally)

manhattan, New York (currently)

ꪆ୧ ABOUT ! 

personality: she has a very strong personality, she's very extroverted, but not in an overwhelming way. She’s very confident in herself and her opinions, but she's not full of herself, she's very down to earth. She has a great sense of her humor like her brother and she loves making new friends. Comes off as intimidating to approach because of her resting bitch face, but she's really sweet — I promise! She definitely gives off party girl vibes, she's very playful and flirty, and loves to tease. She’s definitely that popular girl that you're scared to become friends with because she's ‘too cool’ but she's a friendly person. She's very passionate about the things she loves and when it comes to her work/majors she's very serious about it. 

good traits: very passionate, honest and loyal, hard-working, witty, knows how to break tension (awkward or not) just wants to have fun in her life, very much a yolo type of girl, very trustful and reliable, protective of her family and friends, helpful, 

bad traits: obsessive about minor details (mostly with her work and majors), holds grudges, her determination can turn into stubbornness, brutally honest, can ramble on for way to long, scared of commitment in relationships (from bad relationships in the past) she's smart but can be quite oblivious when it comes to people's feelings about her (especially jacks) a little vain tbh (she loves herself okay) 

quirks/traits: raises eyebrows, always keeps eye contact, talks with her hands, hums, drumming her fingers, twirling her hair, flirting, chewing gum

likes: anything batman, getting her nails done, early long walks, the library, shopping, coloring with her nephew, partying, dancing, f1, train rides, her baby aka her car, candles 

dislikes: selfish people, traffic, riding bikes, rude taxi drivers, being talked down to, cheaters 

hobbies: fashion designing, journaling, drawing, thrift shopping, soccer 

fears: being a failure or not good enough, getting her heart broken again, 

strengths: determined, confident, creative, adaptable, attention to detail, 

weaknesses: commitment in relationships, talking about her feelings, having a healthy sleep schedule, self critical, perfectionism, 

languages spoken: english (fluent), korean (fluent), french (fluent), japanese (learning) 

occupation/profession: Dance major (bachelor of fine arts) at juilliard, takes fashion design classes, and is a professional model. 

ꪆ୧ RELATIONSHIPS ! 

parents: 

Dave lazar

Karen Lazar 

sibling(s): curtis, jenna, ryan and cory. 

curtis and co: 

Out of all of her siblings she's definitely closest to her eldest brother curtis, they have shared a special bond ever since he held her for the first time. He’s always had this strong sense of protectiveness over her as he's the oldest and she's the youngest. He always did his best to go to every single one of her soccer matches or her ballet recitals and he was always the one to stay up late listening to all her fashion ideas and to give her his opinion on her fashion designs. He takes pride in being her biggest fan. He hates how she lives alone in Manhattan, so he's always trying to convince her to move in with them. He will always see her as his baby sister, no matter how old she is. They are very playful and teasing towards each other, curtis loves to mess with her, messing up her hair and calling her spoiled.

Reanne and ophelia have an amazing relationship, normally ophelia was usually hesitant to become close with her siblings partners, but with Reanne it happened so naturally she couldn't really stop it. Reanne is like a proper older sister to ophelia, she's very motherly towards her as well, always making her favorite meals when she comes to visit them and pampering her. Ophelia is very grateful to have such a sweet and caring sister in law. They often have their own girl nights, curled up on the couch with some sweets and wine as they watch rom-coms all night. She is one of the very few people ophelia trusts talking about her romantic life.  

Owen and Cayden lazar, aka ophelia's little angels, also known as her nephews. Ophelia loves them so much, she promised that she would be the best aunt ever when Curtis and Reanne told her! She was full on ugly crying when she held them both for the first time. She tries to spend as much time as she can with them, she loves babysitting them!! She has some of their toys and clothes at her place so they have things whenever they come over. She spoils them so much, always getting them new things, she absolutely loves dressing them up. There is no denying that they are her little babies, and Reanne and Curtis are so thankful for her and how good she is with them, she is the best babysitter. 

best friends: amber jameson, seunghan & sunghoon park, katsuki kozume, maggie samson, mathieu simoneau, intak seo 

friends: luke hughes, tate mcrae, quinn hughes, john marino, matt rempe 

love interest: jack hughes 

ꪆ୧ MORE ! 

scent: she uses a lot of different perfumes, she loves trying out new ones so her collection is pretty big, so perfume wise it's never really the same. She uses rose or coconut body wash and shampoo and conditioner. She likes using the same body products, not really changing up with that. 

outfits: she is very confident and comfortable with herself so she tends to wear more revealing clothes, mini skirts, short dresses, low rise anything, cropped shirts, sweaters and vests, tight off the shoulder tops. But she loves all different styles and she loves trying them out, but those are just some of her main pieces of clothing. She really loves wearing low rise jeans or dress pants with midriff tops. When it's colder she loves layering clothes. Or when she just doesn't feel like getting all dressed up she’ll throw on a short skirt and sweater or some jeans and a top. She has all different kinds of shoes, all different types of boots (cowboy, moto boots, platform chunky boots and more) chunky or platform mary janes, sneakers, heels, she loves them all! She's a big lover of steve madden shoes. 

accessories: she loves accessorizing, she loves anything involving fashion really!! She has a large collection of different types of bags and sunglasses(she loves collecting them), they are definitely her favorite thing + jewelry, to accessorize with. She also has quite a lot of hats, mostly ball caps, beanies and berets. She also really loves utilizing long and thin scarves when she's wearing a short skirt or shorts. She also occasionally will wear a headband, heavily inspired by Blair waldorf. In the colder weather she's almost always rocking ear muffs. She absolutely loves wearing bayonetta glasses, she has so many pairs. Honorable mentions are leg and arm warmers. 

jewelry: ophelia loves jewelry, she's always wearing some! She loves rings, she usually has about four on at a time, small ones, chunky ones, one with crystals or gems, any type of rings really. One ring she is always wearing is a ring that was gifted by her siblings for getting into juilliard. It's a gold band with a mood stone in the middle. She loves layering necklaces. She also occasionally wears anklets and waist chains, it really depends on her outfit. With bracelets she wears all different types, charm bracelets, friendship bracelets, cuff bracelets, again it really depends on her outfit. 

makeup: she's a black eyeliner enthusiast, she doesn't really use foundation, maybe some concealer but that's really it. She loves matching her lip liners with lipsticks/gloss, and loves some highlighter. But she normally just has eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow and her lips done! (it's different when she has her recitals and her shoots) 

scars: has a two inch long scar on her left ankle from an injury playing soccer when she was 11

sexuality: bisexual 

height: 5’5

piercing(s): one in her lobe and second lobe in both ears, helix (left ear) nose ring (right nostril) 

tattoo(s): she has a red heart on her right underboob. 

face claim: zoi lerma 

ꪆ୧ FAVORITES ! 

food(s): new york style pizza, strawberries, cucumbers, muffins, peanut butter and celery, dark chocolate 

drink(s): coffee, redbull, watermelon white claw, water 

color(s): neutrals, black, red

animal(s): cats and penguins 

favorite season: fall/autumn 

bands and artists: rihanna, frank ocean, the weekend, isabel LaRosa, ciara, Arctic monkeys, beyonce, lana del rey, the neighborhood, marina and the diamonds, billie eilish 

show(s): gossip girl, the vampire diaries, h2o just add water, sex and the city 

movie(s): jennifer’s body, kill bill, the amazing spider man, queen of the damned, The devil wears Prada, black swan, hotel transylvania series 

person: owen and cayden lazar and jack hughes 

ꪆ୧ BACKGROUND ! 

Ophelia was born on a bright and sunny day that matched perfectly with her energetic personality. She became the youngest of the lazar clan, aka their baby. 

Ophelia was a very energetic and sweet child, she was like a busy bee, and was given the nickname “the wild child” by her family. 

Ophelia started ballet when she was four, her parents and teachers were quick to notice how talented she was at it despite her age. 

She played soccer from age 8 to 11, and she loved the sport, but after she got an injury to her ankle she had to stop playing because she loved ballet more, and she couldn't risk not being able to dance again. 

When she started soccer, she met her best friend amber jameson who was on her team, they became inseparable since then. 

Amber goes to NYU, majoring in computer science. 

She was 12 when she realized that she loved fashion design when she was helping her middle school play with costumes. Curtis noticed her new passion and bought her some supplies for her upcoming birthday. 

Her modeling career started as just her getting pictures taken for her ballet portfolio, and the photographer brought up her modeling for other things professionally. And it just kicked off from there. 

Over the years her modeling career just got better, ophelia modeling for high end brands, she was becoming very sought after. She even walked the catwalk for fashion week when she was 17, 19 and 20 and many other fashion shows throughout the years. 

She gains a large amount of following on social media for her ballet and modeling. Getting several million followers on her tiktok. 

She got accepted into julliard and moved to Manhattan where she lives alone in her loft/apartment. 

She is a dance major but also takes fashion designing classes. 

Was given the nickname “the next model it girl” and is known as one of the most talented and promising ballerinas in the country. 

Has been in many ballet magazines, for modeling and having her own features/interviews 

Started her youtube channel in 2019, and she now has over 5 million subscribers. (she posts a whole bunch of different content) 

ꪆ୧ FUN FACTS ! 

when ophelia was 14 she went to south korea for a ballet summer intensive program, she stayed with a sweet and welcoming family. Their eldest son Seunghan, who also went to the ballet training camp, quickly became one of ophelia’s best friends. 

He is one year older than ophelia and also attends juilliard with her as a dance major, they are each other's main partners, and they are roommates! 

seunghan’s younger brother is park sunghoon from the popular kpop group enhypen, ophelia has a great close relationship with him, and she's not aware of the small crush he has on her. 

when ophelia was 16 she was on Jimmy Fallon, where she talked about her ballet and modeling. 

ophelia got in her first relationship when she was 18, his name is Ryan James and he is a fellow model, they met at london’s fashion week. He is almost two years older than her. 

they started dating in may 2020 and dated until april 2022, they broke up at her birthday party when Ophelia looked at his phone and saw that he had been cheating on her for months, using her for clout and money. 

ophelia was absolutely heartbroken, she had to put on a brave front infront of her family and friends for the rest of her birthday, making up some excuse on why Ryan had to leave. 

the last 6 months of their relationship wasn't the best, he was bossy, controlling, insensitive, but she was blinded by the idea of being in love with him and being loved back. 

that breakup was very hard on her and shattered her trust completely in relationships. So ever since then she swore of relationships, sticking to hookups (safely ofc) 

shes known as quite the wild child and party girl. 

Has been given many nicknames by the public/media/ fans and her fellow peers, here are a few notable ones

juilliard’s it girl

juilliard’s top dancer

juilliard’s resident party girl

mini natalia (nickname give to her by her ballet master)

the next model it girl 

enchantress on stage 

a lot of people talk about her eyes and how captivating and alluring they are, when she dances and models. She loves holding eye contact and seeing how flustered the other person gets. 

seunghan and ophelia are always getting asked if they are dating because of how close they are, but they are just each other's platonic soulmates. 

ophelia loves going out and partying with her friends, but she also loves just being able to relax at home watching movies in the living room or playing board games. 

ophelia is an amazing cook, she loves learning how to make different cultural foods

ophelia and seunghan have a podcast called ‘on pointe podcast’ 

seunghan and amber are always on ophelia's youtube channel. 

ophelia is one of the top students in her fashion design classes, she wants to create her own fashion line in the future. 

ophelia loves traveling!! 

has an addiction to thrift shopping 

she absolutely loves living in Manhattan, she loves all the friends she has made at juilliard and the life she is making for herself. 

she has a reputation at juilliard for being ‘popular’ and a ‘party girl’ many have said she looks intimidating to approach, but she is really friendly and is a social butterfly. 

seunghan is her alarm clock (she has a terrible sleep schedule) 

she loves video games, and she's really good at them too! 

she has over 10 million followers on tiktok 

she spends an ungodly amount of time in the practice room 

has had her fair share of enemies in ballet because they are jealous of her always getting the lead parts, and the way she's favored by the ballet masters (instructors/teachers) 

her dream is to become one of the best ballet dancers of her generation and ever.

ophelia has a very flirty personality, she loves making people flustered. 

she has a very fun and playful personality, but she's very serious about her work and passions. 

she gets invited to a lot of different events and gets sent a lot of PR packages!

swears she doesn't, but she has an addiction to shopping. 

her nickname ‘mini natalia’ , which was given to her by the ballet masters, means a lot to her. They call her that because they can see that she's very talented and dances very similar to the greats, natalia makarova and natalia osipova, two of ophelia's greatest role models. 

she’s very serious about her love for ballet and ways to improve. Many other ballet students have mentioned how intimidating she can be since she's always striving to be the best. 

really wants to get a pet cat! 

she is very talented in all different types of dancing, and she's trained in gymnastics.

she absolutely loves yoga and Pilates (loves forcing seunghan and jack to go with her) 

Her baby is her car, she sadly doesn't use it a lot in Manhattan, but she loves it nonetheless. 

her middle name is heather

she never loses at just dance, has acquired the nickname ‘just dance queen’

ꪆ୧ HER OUTFITS AESTHETIC !

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( she’s finally here my baby ophelia !! out of all my oc’s she’s the one I’ve worked on the most before posting . I just really want you guys to like her , please tell me what you guys think of her !! I hope you guys soon love her like I do :3 )

au m.list

˖ ་ feel free to send in any thoughts/requests you have !! And please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist mwah

˖ ་ taglist : @yoontwin @toasttt11 @cixrosie @winterbarnesblog @iceflwers