Nevra Erdoğan

Where: Valentine's Day 2026 Event When: Post-reveal Who: @erdogan-nevra

"Vale, vale, vale." Óscar chuckled, "Did any of my date in Andalusia sound interesting to you? Because I think we should fly to our own date. My treat, mimosita."

"I'm giving you the 500 quid, because yes, I was petty and annoyed at fucking Melissa. But... If someone else after bids higher, you have to take Turkey."

Smirking, the bodyguard arched a brow in the direction the shout came from, "Jealousy's loud," he chuckled lowly before catching a glimpse of Nevra flip the bird without missing a beat. The grin she gave him after? He nearly melted to the mat below.

When she took his hands and led him toward the smaller ring, Óscar followed without hesitation. He clocked the space the same way he clocked rooms everywhere: where the exits were, sightlines, who was watching...

He sat beside her when she patted the bench. Elbows resting on his knees as he started unspooling his bands. Methodical. Familiar. Making sure to start with his left hand as he began the the initial twist and tie into the rest of the wrapping.

"No broken bones," he repeated calmly, "Avoid your eyes," a small nod. Then came the last one. No pulling punches. His hands paused for half a second before resuming their steady rhythm around his knuckles. He didn’t look at her right away. But when he did, it wasn’t teasing. "I won’t treat you like glass," he added after a beat, tightening the wrap with his teeth and tucking it clean, "but I’m not here to break you either. It's training, after all. I'll give as good a I get."

Óscar leaned back slightly, eyes scanning her stance, her shoulders, the way she held tension. Standing now, offering his hand to pull her up. A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He stepped toward the ring, ducking under the ropes, then turned to face her fully.

"Deal, cariño."

It dawned on the assassin just how large Óscar was standing across the ring from him for the first time. Height wise he was only a few inches taller than her but width and breadth were another thing entirely. The solidity of his arms muscles told her that his punches would land hard.

Good. She always fought better when there was a chance of real pain involved.

Nevra circled around a bit, bouncing on her feet- feigning jabs to see where he moved and how he blocked. Although she'd seen him perform at Fight Club, it was different squaring off head-on. Still, a small smile remained on her lips.

"You can still back out. Last chance old man." While he had innumerable names for her in Spanish, Nevra hadn't bothered to learn enough Turkish from her grandmother as a child. English would have to do.

He leaned in slightly. "You still owe me for that." He didn’t know how he knew, only that he did, and he was certain she’d had something to do with it.

"What exactly are you accusing me of sir? I swear I have no clue what you're referring to. I'm just here for a beer and a good night. That," she tilted her glass towards the spectacle across the room, "is just an added bonus."

@ a pub

Benny had been on one of his intellectual talks, as he called them. Which really meant he had about seven pints of Guinness and was ready to talk for an entire night or get into a fight. It was either and neither of the options sounded like a good one.

"Sit the fuck down." He motioned to one of the other lads to actually do that. He;d been talking about how things had been quiet and then somehow the conversation morphed into illuminati.

"Someone get me out of here." He muttered.

And as he did, images flashed into his mind. Sharing fries off the same plate. Wrapping hands. Sitting together and flirting as others fought. Eyes on him in the hospital room when he was barely stitched together and pretending he was fine.

Something had shifted then. Slowly. Gradually. Not a hit to the chest, but a tightening. A pull he didn’t resist. By Halloween, standing beside her felt natural. Easy. And somewhere between sparring glances and stolen quiet, Óscar realized he didn’t want pieces anymore. He wanted her. And when Nevra asked him to help with a little bit of boxing training, he was more than happy to.

By the time he reached the gym, sweat already cooling along his spine, the decision sat settled in his chest. No rush. No doubt. He pushed the door open and the familiar sounds wrapped around him: he hum of machines, the dull thud of gloves, the quiet focus of people working through their own battles. His gaze found her almost instantly.

Óscar slowed as he approached. Hands coming up naturally to her waist as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Unhurried, warm, familiar. When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against her temple.

"Hola cariño," he murmured softly, accent curling around the word like it belonged there. His hands stayed at her sides, grounding. Thumbs brushing slow circles like they’d always done that, "Sí, I have the nose of a bloodhound," he winked, "Looks like you got a head start," he added, a quiet smile in his voice, "Hope you saved something for me."

Hand hidden behind her back, Nevra flipped off whoever had yelled at them, all the while beaming up at Óscar. "Don't listen to them. They're just jealous," she raised her voice on the word so they could hear her, "that they're lonely bastards who could never pull a girl." She didn't often curse but the atmosphere of the gym always seemed to bring it out of her.

"As for you," her eyes crinkled around the edges as her smile widened even further, "I definitely saved my best. I was just warming up with a run. Looks like you warm up the same way." She noted the glisten his skin had.

Taking Óscar's hands from her waist, she led him over to a bench on the far side of the room. Her bag and its contents were strewn about in a small pile, claiming the area. The ring next to it was smaller than the others. For one, she hated taking up more space than she needed; second, Nevra didn't like the central positions of the other two. She didn't want all eyes on her for a number of reasons. A few of the people who trained there knew who she was, what she did, but it was still safer to keep her presence lowkey.

Nevra sat on the bench, patting the spot next to her. "Okay, rules. No broken bones, try to avoid my eyes, and no pulling punches." She stared intently at him, knowing it would be difficult to get him to comply with the last part given how gentle he was with her and how she suspected he felt about her. "And before you say anything about the last one, I'm quick. We'll see if you can even land one. And if you can, well..." She shrugged. "I deserve what's coming if I can't get out of the way."

It was how Adrian trained her; harsh but fair. The method trained her up faster than she could have imagined. It was amazing what the body could do when it knew it was about to be crushed.

"Deal?"

"No matter how long I live here, I'm never getting used to Chinese food coming with fries." Carla wiped her hand on a napkin and chuckled under her breath. "Sorry, I mean chips.

As she settled against him—warm, soft, familiar—everything inside him loosened another knot. Her smile, the way she curved into him, the feel of her shoulder against his chest…He’d missed this. Entirely too much; too much for his own good.

Nevra then mentioned traveling and assignments, and something tight flickered in his chest. Worry, maybe. Or recognition. Both were equally dangerous, "Hmmm...Melissa never lets you breathe, does she?" he murmured, nudging her temple gently with his bearded jaw, "Figures. You’re too good at what you do."

Her last question hit him. The innocent words dropping right between them like a spark. That lovely laugh. Light and unbothered. Oscar’s smile slowed. Deepened He turned his head, looking down at her. That same easy warmth, but with something new threaded through it, "Mimosita," he paused, chuckling as he remembered to translate, "my little desert flower," bending down to whisper in her ear, "or sometimes, darling," voice dipping as his hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, drawing her just a breath closer. "You're the only one I want filling that position."

Her body had naturally turned when his had, the gravity of him pulling her along. He was already connected to her in so many places; hand on her back, jaw on her forehead, legs tangled in hers.

Against her better sense of judgement, or rather due to a lack of, Nevra tipped her head up and stole a brief and gentle kiss. More of a breath, a whisper, or a ghost of the real thing. But there it was.

Something like pride welled up inside her and she let it show on her face.

"Make sure you have fun too. Unless being a guard dog is fun for you, in which case don't let me rain on your parade."

"Don't worry, I plan on making the most of the night. I already have my eye on someone." Normally Nevra wouldn't have let something like that slip but alcohol had a tendency to loosen her lips.

Her hips swayed in rhythm, eyes glinting red under the lights. “Me? When I’m not working…” She gave a small shrug. “I drive too fast. Sleep too little. Sample the product more than I should.” The admission came with a smirk, not an ounce of shame. “Life’s short, cariño. I like feeling it.”

She leaned in just enough to be heard over the bass. “Sometimes that means a hit, sometimes a high, sometimes a night that goes too late. I don’t do stillness well.”

Then, with a teasing lift of her glass, “And if I ever do sit still, it’s probably because someone finally talked me into it.”

"And what about you?"

Nevra opened her mouth and then closed it. What was she going to say? You should stop before it's too late. It's all fun and games until it's not. It wasn't her place and yet the thoughts stuck with her as they continued to dance.

"My life sounds boring now compared to yours." Nevra barked a laugh. "I could use a little more movement. Not exactly like that but something to take my mind off work, you know? A girl can only go to the gym so many times a week."

"I do..." Oscar grinned as he let her tug him through the crowd, "That's why I plan on setting a fire on that dance floor later," a small laugh slipped from under his breath.

Then, the bodyguard guided her toward one of the shadowed booths tucked off to the side of the floor. Quieter. Softer. Somewhere he could actually hear her without the bass drowning everything out. The moment they reached it, he didn’t sit across from her — no. Just like at the fight club, he sat beside her. And pulled Nevra right into his side. An arm slipping around her waist, tugging her in until her shoulder pressed to his chest.

He'd been wanting that for months.

When Oscar looked down at her, the grin gentled, "Demasiado largo," he sipped his drink before clarifying in English, "Too damn long," a thumb brushed her hip absent-mindedly, slow and warm, "Work, mostly. Security, workouts, trying out more boxing, and trying to keep Yvonne out of trouble…" he teased, nudging her lightly, "What about you, mi mimosita?"

Maybe it was time to start taking Spanish lessons. Although, it was just as much fun not knowing- instead letting the tone of his voice tell her what he was saying.

"So nothing much at all is what I'm hearing," the brunette teased back. Nevra shrugged, taking a sip of her drink to give herself a moment. She wasn't about to tell him that she'd slipped back into old habits to keep past pains away. "About the same as you. Working, training, travelling when they tell me to..." They both knew what those work outings meant. "Melissa's been keeping me busy. So have a few other people."

In truth, Nevra was always the one to ask for more assignments. It wasn't always for termination but when it was, she'd let herself be overwhelmed by it. Let the sensations of it all take her mind away. She never told this to anyone, even Ayaz or Melissa lest they sit her out because of it.

"Have you found a proper boxing partner yet or would you mind if I filled that position?" She hadn't intended for the innuendo but there it hung between them, a laugh slipping out of her.

The bodyguard then took in her outfit. The dark hair, the sharp little smirk that matched the Wednesday Addams getup—and laughed under his breath. His hand coming up slowly and tugging on one of the braids lightly, "You really committed. Gonna be an arsonist too and bring a little chaos tonight?"

Helmet tucked under one arm, he nodded toward the drink, "Good to finally find you..." then reached for her with his free hand, "Want to stay here and finish our drinks? Or should we set fire to the dancefloor?"

Her hand slipped into his like a glove - warm, comforting, and a perfect fit - before proceeding to pull him away from the music. She wanted him to herself before joining the masses and possibly having him swept away by other dad-bod-hungry party goers.

It felt like there was never enough time to see him. After the ordeal of Fight Club last year, they'd seen each other sporadically. Nevra had thrown herself into work again, the adrenaline from that night wore off quickly and the sense of loss filled in the space. The moments she did see him always brought her out of that headspace, blissfully, so she intended to fully enjoy tonight. "What have you been up to the past few months? I think it was summer the last time I saw you." Too long, she wanted to say.