#he'd obviously be such a good coach

[moocha-muses]

Bro! High-five!

[jsprnt]

celebrating the win against austria with your boyfriend

kenan yıldız x reader

A/N: my first kenan fic!! based on this request! thank you for requesting 🤍

W/C: 1.604

just a couple minutes.

that was all that was left for turkey to win their match, and to be a part of the last eight teams competing for the euros this year.

your heart had already leaped when austria had scored one goal in the sixty-sixth minute of the game, and just like everyone rooting for the same team as you, you hoped it would stay 2-1 for turkey.

you had obviously come to support your loving boyfriend, his first euro tournament in his career. he had already played a good eighty minutes, before his coach had decided to take him off.

sometimes he'd glance at you when the game was paused during a certain foul or injury. wanting to make sure you were still there, screaming and clapping in support for him. of course, the glances were pretty short, he had to focus on the game, and you knew that as well.

kenan would give you all the attention after the game, whether he won or lost.

making eye contact with him was your absolute favorite part. it was no secret that your boyfriend was a looker. every time he'd show up on the big screen, you had to hold yourself back from fawning a little too much, though the eye candy was always welcome.

especially in his white kit, it made him look like an angel as he was running around the pitch. the sweat from being incredibly active, darkening his brown hair.

you'd chuckle and smile at the occasional wink he would send you. it leaving you flustered and hot, although it had been drizzling for the past few seconds, it helping you cool down a little.

you fold your arms up, against your chest. wiping the rain that had been dripping down onto your naked arms, your turkey kit not helping you since it’s a t-shirt. you tap your shoe impatiently against the ground, well- the bleachers.

the game pauses for a second during an injury, watching the medics arrive. you look up suddenly when you're nudged by kenan's mother, who's sat next to you, a confused expression on her face.

"look up.." she says, pointing over and up to one of the huge screens in the leipzig stadium. you furrow your brows, not recognizing your own face for a moment.

realizing it's in fact you, on the screen, you smile, trying not to look awkward. your mother-in-law laughs, nudging for you to stop being so tense.

you chuckle, your lips pulling into relaxed smile, you wave your little türkiye flag, sending a quick flying kiss to the camera.

your face heats up at the sudden attention of the thousands of people in the stadium, and you're relieved when the camera pans back to the pitch, the game resuming.

you shake the situation off quickly, hoping you looked good at least.

your breath hitches when you hear the extra time being announced, and get ready for another torturous four minutes.

your mind switches to how anxious kenan himself might feel, at this point, he couldn't do anything about it. he could only trust his teammates to continue defending and possibly score another goal.

you turn to kenan's mother, an anxious expression on her face. you immediately grab onto her hand, smiling at her before squeezing her hand in reassurance. she turns to you, sending you a warm smile back.

you don't have to speak to know what emotions are running through your bodies, it's visible from the look in your eyes.

since you and kenan had been dating for more than a year, you had gotten very close to his parents. especially his mother, having her share the same feelings as you was both reassuring and very important to you.

the entire turkish supporting side of the stadium erupts in gasps and shouts as the ball is headed by a member of the opposition.

everyone's jaw slaws open in shock and happiness when goalkeeper gunök successfully swats the ball away, to prevent a last-minute disaster for turkey.

you and kenan's family start jumping in happiness, along with the thousands of fans. the noise is incredibly loud, and it seems to reach a higher frequency when the full-time whistle is blow.

you watch multiple of kenan's teammates drop to the grass in exhaustion and relief, some running to the goalie and some jumping up and down in happiness.

your heart beats faster when you look for kenan, smiling lovingly when you make eye contact with him. he waves to you, and his family.

the smile on his face makes you swoon, and you have to hold yourself back to not run up to the pitch and plant a fat kiss on his cheek.

the celebration lasts a couple minutes, and you all chant along as the players and staff make a circle in the middle of the pitch.

you immediately perk up when you're allowed to go down to the pitch. waiting for kenan's family to greet him first, as you fiddle with your white handbag. a gift from kenan on your last birthday..

"liebing.." kenan immediately coos in his first language, opening his arms wide for you to nestle in between them.

you wrap your arms around him, pressing your face against his chest. he brings you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

"did you enjoy the game?" he asks, leaning down. his bigger hands cup your jaw, and he presses a tender kiss onto your forehead.

you close your eyes, soaking up the loving touch, feeling rain drizzle on you. the sky darkening as darker clouds become visible in the sky.

"i did enjoy the game. I'm proud of you, baby.." your mutter, looking up into his brown eyes.

he grins down at you, thumb wiping at your face. cheeks wet from the rain.

"oh! you're ruining my makeup!.." you complain, though you don't move or try to swat his hand away.

"it's pretty like this. just like on the big screen. that kiss was for me, right, liebe?" he quirks up his slit brow, peering down at you with a cocky expression.

"you saw that?"

"of course, I almost forgot where I was.."

you chuckle at his words, rolling your eyes in a teasing manner, before humming against his chest.

"aren't you cold?" he suddenly says, eyes darting to his parents. noticing that his father had already given his jacket to his mother. the both of them chatting with his teammate arda's parents.

you don't even get to open your mouth to respond, before he drapes his white training jacket over your shivering shoulders, forcing you to pull your arms through the warm jacket.

"thank you.." you smile, making him lean down for you to kiss his cheek.

the smile on your face grows bigger at his own grin, his pearly whites showing.

"now you're getting all wet, though.." you observe, reaching up to fix his wet hair. the once fluffy brown locks, now soaked and flat, stuck to his forehead.

you don't even notice the cameraman right next to you, totally immersed in fixing kenan's recently washed hair, and definitely not realizing that a huge camera is pointed towards you two.

"you need a warm shower, and maybe some tea. are you allowed to go out tonight? or do you still have a curfew?.."

you frown as your questions don't get answered, and make a confused noise when you feel his hand pressing against your back. pressing you flush against his chest.

"what're you doing, baby?" you question, following his eyes, only to land on the biggest camera lens you've ever seen in your life.

"oh.." you mumble in realization, instantly flickering your eyes away, and watching the protective look in your boyfriend's eyes.

even though you had been filmed before, when you'd attend kenan's juventus games, it never got any easier.

dating an athlete just came with unwanted attention and filming, though you tried not to let it show.

your chuckle to yourself out of embarrassment, burying your face into his chest.

"am I supposed to be looking at the camera?" you ask, words muffled, feeling his hands on your back. his fingertips dancing onto the wet fabric of the jacket.

"no, you don't have to if you're not comfortable. it's starting to pour out here. let's go inside.." he murmurs into your ear, before grabbing on your hand.

"are we running? what if we slip on the grass?" you ask, squinting and trying to cover your eyes from the rain with your arm.

"come on, i'll catch you if you fall.."

you manage to sneak a glimpse of the teasing smile on his face, before he starts dashing towards the inside of the stadium. a chocked laugh leaves your mouth, squealing at how fast he's running.

but, you're a little too happy you're inside, when you see how fast the rain switched from drizzling to pouring out of the sky.

"I'm not a footballer like you, remember?" you pant, placing your hands on your knees and bending over. trying to catch your breath, probably looking crazy to the family and friends of kenan's teammates.

you don't notice when he steps away for just a second, coming back with a towel to dry you off.

you feel his hand on your shoulder, then a soft towel on your head. you stand straight, grabbing the white towel off your face.

"thank you.." you mumble, patting your face dry, then reach up to dry his face with the other side of the towel.

unbeknownst to you two, you're still being filmed.

no doubt these clips will be posted on the internet tomorrow, and you'd try to figure out how to navigate this new-found publicity, with kenan by your side, of course.

[jesswritesthat]

Kuroo Tetsurō: Crushed It

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.2k, fluff

• Graduation comes and goes, and you were hoping your crush went with it but you aren’t so lucky.

Warnings: None

A/N: Inspired by drawing below.

>>>>——————————>

Everyone knew that once you graduated, you were gone for good. Basically dead to the school from then on, bound to never return from the clutches of adulthood.

"Are you watching Senpai?" — Hah not from anywhere nearby they're not!

Kuroo Tetsurō and his fellow classmates had fallen victim to this most recently, most of whom successful graduates from Nekoma who'd go on to further their futures.

Now you were in third year and extremely excited for a year free of your stupid crush on that annoying rooster head friend of yours. No more heart palpations, no more choking on your words, and no more teasing!

It was shaping up to be the most relieving, and peaceful year you’d ever had in Nekoma as continuing manager of the VBC. At least, it was until you heard that unmistakable hyena laughter echoing from the gymnasium. A haunting vibration that had you freezing in your tracks and quietly peering around the corner to find the originator laughing with his former teammates.

He's back?! What the hell?!

Now he wasn’t held back, he was too smart for that, and you hadn’t seen him once this year so he’d obviously came on a friendly visit. Unless he was a new apprentice coach?! No surely not. Still, going through the possibilities stalled you enough to avoid him, waiting until he left through the opposing gym doors before making your presence known.

"Who were you talking to?" You’d asked Kenma and Lev, the pair looking to you with curious expressions.

Yeah like you didn't already know that voice by heart.

"Kuroo came by." Kenma replied calmly, leaving you to falsify a hint of surprise.

"Oh really? No way, I thought he'd be studying."

"He asked where you were y'know." Lev smugly added, smirk sent your way whilst you acted oblivious.

"Well I hope you told him I'm keeping up with my manager duties."

"No need, I said I wouldn’t leave until I saw everyone and that includes you (Y/n)." Lo and behold the conniving middle blocker returned, holding fresh waters no less - you should’ve known.

"What are you doing here?! Shouldn't you be doing university stuff or something?"

"I can't check in on my friends? I graduated, I didn't die." Kuroo shrugged haphazardly responding with his usual mirth, to which you muttered under your breath.

"Neither did the bedhead."

"Hey shut your mouth smartass!" You received a gentle shove before he spoke again. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you're all doing just fine. Not as good as if I was still around but you're doing your best."

"So modest~ We hope you’re doing well too, thanks for visiting us." It started sarcastically but was soon replaced with sincerity.

"Yeah yeah, keep up the effort and have fun. I'll be seeing you."

———

Naturally, Kuroo didn't visit often. In fact it was quite rare considering he was as dedicated as ever to his goals. However, you suspected Kenma saw him most outside of Nekoma High School.

When he did stop by though - aside from offering advice to the team and catching up with his former teammates - he made time to personally talk and work with you on strategies (equipped with a snack). It meant that dumb crush of yours hadn't the opportunity to rest in peace like you'd hoped, but it also demonstrated that your friendship had remained strong.

It was during a training match with Karasuno that you saw him again, yourself catching up with second years Hinata and Kageyama beside Kenma.

Of course, Nishinoya and Tanaka were determined to greet you as they usually did to any manager they found attractive.

“Nekomas’ manager!!!”

“Like a shining light blessing us from heaven!”

“Hey guys.”

You felt hands rest on your shoulders, but they sent far less tingles through your body compared to the wicked aura radiating off the person behind you.

"Oya? Glad to see you two country bumpkins haven't changed, but paws off our manager, got it?"

"You haven't either, still so vigilant with (L/n)." Nishinoya sighed hopelessly, folding his arms with a cute pout but Tanakas’ justification was more prominent.

"They’re not your manager anymore city boy!"

"Ah that's true, but I still have the privilege of seeing (Y/n) so I guess I'm the lucky one."

Of course you facepalmed, it was all in good fun but saying such things weren’t helping this harboured crush of yours.

———

When hanging out at Kenmas’ household, you would occasionally see him then too. On the off chance you’d all spend time together like you used to, and this evening was one of those days. As usual you went to leave first considering you weren’t a neighbour, but were surprised when Kuroo prepared himself too.

“Aren’t you staying?” You peered behind him to an observing Kenma, the half blonde merely smirking like he was in on whatever suspicious activity was occurring under your nose.

“I was going to walk you home, if that’s alright with you?”

Oh. Oh.

“Sure, but it’s a bit out of your way.”

“(Y/n) I know where you live, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.” Kuroo gave a deadpan expression at you, explaining like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Alright, alright. If I die, Kenma you know who did it.” You issued a pleased grin to Kozume, who muttered under his breath.

“…couldn’t bring himself to… both crushes… oblivious idiots…”

Yourself and Kuroo snapped to him with varying degrees of offence and scrutiny, to which the gamer rolled his eyes and shut the door on you both leaving you to the thralls of the outside world.

“Tetsurō thanks for taking time out of your schedule to help the team and see us. We really appreciate it.” You’d casually spoke whilst walking, Kuroo with his hands buried in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“I still like volleyball, and our friends. It’d be weird not to see you all I guess.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to walk me home, or bring me a snack.”

“That’s different.” He’d said it with a lingering of further explanation, but you wittily replied nonetheless with a hand over your heart.

“Ah yes, bribing me to be a good manager for Nekoma. I will keep up my end of the bargain.”

“You better, I get you top quality snacks smartass.” Tetsurō playfully nudged you then, laughing a little before taking a more serious note. “But that’s not it. I just want to walk beside you for as long you’ll let me.”

There was a comforting silence, one that Kuroo only hoped conveyed the true meaning of that sentimental statement to you. One that he’d have no idea how to articulate more straightforwardly.

“Tetsurō are you saying…” You didn’t need to finish, he answered it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Then I hope you can keep up loser!” With that you stopped in front of him, palm held out with a challenging smile upon your features.

At least your stupid crush had a companion now.

———

Bonus:

Of course, Kuroo made sure to visit during the Fukurōdani Academy Training Camp along with Bokuto. The two of them more than grateful to volunteer their volleyball expertise to fellow players.

When the third years of Karasunos’ team approached you this time, they were not expecting such a turn of events.

"(L/n)!! Have you considered transferring to Karasuno yet? We'd treat you like royalty, promise." Nishinoya solemnly swore, hand on his heart with Tanaka following suit.

"You know I appreciate you but Nekoma is my home. I love my team." You politely dismissed, and your endearment only made their eyes sparkle brighter.

Until a pair of hands once more made purchase upon your shoulders with the taunting voice of Tetsurō following after.

"Our manager isn't going to abandon us no matter how many times you ask."

"Again, not your manager city boy!" Tanaka bit back, however it was immediate that they’d already lost by the scheming smirk upon Kuroos lips.

"Well saying my partner sounded a bit insensitive considering your single status." This time you received a kiss to your head, and you could feel the menace he sent their way without even looking at him. Crushes, who’d want them?

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[lee-laurent]

Romeo and Juliet - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack falls for the new owner of the Devils' daughter

content: reverse of a slowburn (they move really fast)

wc: 14k

notes: requested!! i'm sorry this took sooooo long! school is kicking my ass :(( but i really liked writing this! i rewrote it like twelve times until i finally found an angle i liked and i hope you guys enjoy it too! keep on sending in requests :))

Remi Bouchard stood awkwardly behind her dad, arms crossed and weight shifting from one foot to the other, as he talked to his new team, droning on and on about his expectations. She'd heard this speech before--different team, same lines. Discipline. Effort. Respect. Her dad always delivered it like he was audtioning for a role in a sports movie, with the same rehearsed authority and clipped tone.

Behind his back, she rolled her eyes. This time, though, she wasn't sitting in the bleachers or tucked away in the family section. No, this time, he'd insisted she stand behind him, a silent reminder to everyone in the room that he was not only their new coach, but also her father. Like she needed that.

Her gaze drifted lazily across the room. Players filled the chairs, leaning back like they'd heard their fair share of speeches too. A few were older, veterans whose faces she vaguely recognized from highlight reels. The rest were younger--fresh-faced rookies and players just hitting their stride.

Her eyes landed on a guy near the back, sitting with one ankle propped on his knee. His light brown hair was messy in a way that looked accidental but wasn't, and a lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he whispered something to the guy beside him. Whatever it was must've been funny, because the other guy was fighting to keep a straight face.

Interesting.

Remi tilted her head, letting her gaze linger a second longer than she should have. She'd always been good at reading people--better than her dad, anyway--and something about him stood out. He didn't look nervous or overly respectful like some of the others. He looked... comfortable. Like he knew exactly who he was and didn't feel the need to apologize for it.

Her dad's voice snapped her back to reality.

"And remember, gentlemen, this season isn't just about talent--it's about discipline. Off the ice as well as on. That's what wins cups."

She fought the urge to groan. Discipline was her dad's favourite word, and he'd wielded it like a weapon her entire life. No late nights. No parties. No distractions. Her curfew in high school had been earlier than the local diner closed. Even now, at 19, he still acted like he needed his permission to make a decision.

But that was the thing about being 19. She didn't need anyone's permission--not anymore.

When her dad finally wrapped up his speech, he turned to her with a rare, tight-lipped smile. "Remi, why don't you introduce yourself?"

Her stomach twisted. She'd spent most of her life being introduced as "Phil Bouchard's daughter," and it didn't look like that was changing anytime soon. Still, she managed a polite smile, the one she'd perfected after years of playing nice for her dad's sake.

"Hi," she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs in the room. "I'm Remi. My dad's the coach--obviously. But don't let him fool you; he's not that scary."

There was a ripple of polite laughter, but her eyes were fixed on the guy in the back. His lopsided grin had widened into a full-on smirk now, and for the first time, she felt her own smile shift into a real one.

~~

The players were filing out, some offering polite nods to her dad as they passed. Remi stayed in the corner, checking her phone out of habit, when a voice grabbed her attention.

"So, Coach's not that scary?"

She looked up to find the guy from earlier standing a few feet away, hands shoved in the pocket of his Devils branded sweatpants, the same smirk on his face. Up close, he was even more annoyingly attractive.

"Not unless you cross him," she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Good to know." He extended a hand. "Jack Hughes."

"Remi Bouchard," she replied, shaking it. His grip was confident and lingered long enough to make her heart skip.

"I figured," Jack said. "Your dad's been saying 'my daughter' every five minutes."

She laughed despite herself. "Yeah, he's good at that."

"Is he good at coaching too, or should I be worried?"

Remi hesitated for a beat, then leaned in slightly, her voice dropping low enough to make him lean in too. "Let's just say... don't expect to sleep in."

Jack's laugh was genuine, bright, and made her stomach flutter.

"Noted," he stood up straight. "Guess I'll see you around, Bouchard."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, slightly breathless and entirely annoyed at how much she'd enjoyed that.

The locker room emptied quickly after that. Remi stayed put, scrolling aimlessly through her phone as her dad exchanged a few last words with his assistant coaches. She didn't need to look up to know he was shooting her occasional glances, making sure she wasn't doing anything embarrassing.

When the other coaches finally left the room, her dad turned to her, his expression shifting into something softer, but no less authoritative.

"Thanks for sticking around today, kid," he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Didn't really have a choice, did I?" she replied, her tone just sharp enough to sting.

Phil frowned, his grip tightening slightly before he let go. "I just want you to understand what's at stake here. This team is a fresh start for me--and for us. I'm counting on you to make a good impression. That means no antics, Remi. No sneaking around, no hanging out with the players, no late nights."

Her jaw tightened. The rules. Always the rules. No matter where they moved or how many teams he coached, her dad never let up. She was 19 years old, a legal adult, and he still talked to her like she was a teenager that couldn't be trusted.

"Got it," she said flatly, shoving her phone into her pocket. "Are we done?"

Phil's frown deepened, but he nodded. "Go home. I'll meet you there after meetings."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out, her heart pounding with anger. The hallway leading out of the arena was dimly lit, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty space. Her dad's words replayed in her mind, each one sharpening her resentment like a knife.

No antics. No hanging out with players.

The absurdity of it made her laugh under her breath. Like she couldn't handle herself. Like she wasn't already smarter, sharper, and more aware of the world than he gave her credit for.

The truth was, she'd been good for too long. For years, she'd followed his rules, played the perfect daughter, sat quietly by the sidelines of his career. And what had it gotten her? A suffocating shadow she couldn't escape.

She paused at the edge of the parking lot, looking back at the arena. Most of the players were gone by now, but a few stragglers were still lingering by their cars. Her eyes scanned the lot until they landed on him. Jack Hughes.

He was leaning against the driver's side door of his car, his stupid smirk still on his face. His posture was relaxed, lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

He's exactly the kind of guy Dad would hate me hanging out with.

The thought struck her with startling clarity. Jack wasn't just charming and attractive--he was off-limits. A walking, talking rebellion waiting to happen. And the best part? Her dad had basically handed her the idea on a silver platter.

She could hear the protests in his voice already. Stay away from him, Remi. You're going to embarrass me. You don't know what you're doing.

A slow, wicked grin spread across her face. Maybe she didn't know exactly what she was doing yet, but she knew enough. She wasn't going to sit around and let her dad dictate her life any longer. If he wanted her to stay away from Jack Hughes, well, that was exactly who she'd be spending her time with.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her attention. Her best friend, Talia, was texting her.

Talia: how's hockey prison? are you surviving?

Remi smirked, fingers flying across the screen.

Remi: barely. but i've got a plannnn. stay tuned

She glanced at Jack again. This wasn't just about pissing off her dad--it was about proving, to herself and to him, that she was in control of her own life. And Jack Hughes? He was going to help her do exactly that.

She walked over to him, smoothing down her hair and tugging at the hem of her jacket, wanting to look like she wasn't psyching herself up to do this.

Jack didn't notice her approach until she was a few feet away. He glanced up, his face shifting to surprise, then to a lazy grin that had her weak in the knees.

"Didn't think I'd see you again tonight," he said.

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Figured I'd say hi before you forgot about me."

"Not a chance. Coach's daughter isn't exactly forgettable."

Her laugh came easily, and she stepped closer, leaning against the car beside him. "Well, that's reassuring. So, what's the team's golden boy still doing here? Everyone else has cleared the fuck out."

Jack tilted his head. "Golden boy? That's a stretch."

"Come on," she teased, bumping her shoulder against his. "Don't play humble with me. I saw you back there, all comfortable and confident. You're not like the others."

"Is that a good thing?" he smirked.

"That depends. Do you live up to the hype?"

Jack chuckled, the sound warm and low. "Guess you'll have to stick around and find out."

For a split second, her resolve wavered. It would be so easy to fall into this, to let herself believe this wasn't just a game she was playing. But she couldn't afford that--not now. She had a point to prove, and he was the perfect way to do it.

"So," she said, smoothly changing the subject, "is this how you always spend your Friday nights? Hanging out in parking lots and scrolling through Instagram?"

Jack leaned back, crossing his arms. "Only when I'm waiting for someone interesting to show up."

"Oh?" she arched a brow. "And did they?"

"Yeah," he held her gaze. "They did."

The flutter in her chest was stronger this time, and she quickly buried it beneath a playful grin. "Well, I hate to disappoint, but I'm not that interesting."

"Not buying it," he shook his head. "I've got a feeling you're full of surprises."

"Maybe you'll find out."

Jack pushed off his car, standing just a little closer than before. "Guess I'll have to stick around, then," he teased.

Remi glanced up at him, her heart pounding. This is working. She didn't need to push too hard--just enough to keep him hooked, to let him think this was real. It almost felt real. And that was the dangerous part.

"Well," she stepped back just far enough to break the moment, "don't let me keep you here all night."

Jack hesitated, then pulled his car keys from his pocket. "Alright, Bouchard. But don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied, her voice light and breezy as she turned and walked away.

When she reached her car, her phone buzzed with another text from Talia.

Talia: details. now.

Remi: step 1: complete. he's hooked

As she hit send, she glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Jack's car pulling out of the lot. This was just the beginning.

~~

Remi leaned against the railing of the bleachers in the practice rink, her legs crossed casually as she scrolled through Instagram to see what her friends back in Toronto were up to. The team was midway through drills, her dad barking instructions from the bench, his voice echoing through the room.

But when she was looking up, her attention wasn't on her dad. It was on him.

Jack was mid-drill, skating backward as he tracked a pass, his stick carrying the puck across the ice. He made it look so easy--like he was born to do this. The precision in his movements was almost hypnotic.

When the whistle blew, signaling a break, Jack skated toward the bench for water. He looked upward--just for a second--and locked eyes with her. Remi played it cool, offering him a small wave and a teasing smirk.

Jack raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a grin that was equal parts amused and intrigued. He didn't break their eye contact as he lifted the water bottle, taking a long sip like he was trying to show off to her in the oddest way.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. Subtlety clearly wasn't his strong suit.

As the players began to scatter for the next drill, Jack skated over to the boards near where she stood. Leaning his forearms casually on top of the plastic, he tilted his head up at her.

"Didn't realize this practice was open to spectators," he teased.

"It's not," she replied, moving down a couple rows. "I'm special."

"Special, huh?" He smirked. "Is that why you're standing up there, judging my every move?"

"Who says I was judging?" she shot back. "Maybe I was admiring."

Jack blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly recovered. "Careful, Bouchard. Keep talking like that and I'll start thinking you're here just to see me."

She grinned, "Maybe I am."

The whistle blew again, cutting through their moment. Jack glanced back at the ice, where the rest of the team was already setting up for the next drill.

"Duty calls," he said, skating backward to keep his eyes on her. "But don't go anywhere. I'll be looking for you when we're done."

"I'll think about it," she sassed, turning to leave.

~~

The smell of sweat hit her as the players filtered into the locker room, chatting as they pulled off their gear. Remi stood near the wall, pretending not to notice the attention her presence was drawing.

Jack was one of the last to come off the ice, his jersey slung over one jersey and his sweat damp with sweat. When he spotted her, his pace slowed, his grin widening as he veered her way.

"You know," he said, stopping just a little to close, "if you keep showing up like this, people are going to start talking."

"Talking about what?" she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes.

"About how the coach's daughter has a thing for the team's centre," he replied, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Remi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. "Who says I don't?"

Jack blinked, his confidence faltering for a fraction of a second before he let out a soft laugh. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

"Am I?" she deliberately took a step closer.

"Definitely," his voice dropped even lower.

Before he could say more, the sound of her dad's voice calling her name echoed down the hall. Jack immediately straightened, stepping back like a kid caught his hand in the cookie jar.

"Don't worry," she whispered, brushing past him. "I won't tell."

As she walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder just in time to catch the look on his face--amusement and exasperation. It sent a thrill racing through her, and for the first time, she realized how much she was enjoying this.

~~

Remi wandered through the small crowd, her dad occupied with his assistant coaches on the other side of the lounge. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on Jack, who was standing by the snack table with a few teammates.

When their eyes met, his face lit up, and he excused himself, weaving through the crowd to meet her halfway.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft and warm. "You didn't come down to congratulate me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she teased, crossing her arms. "Do you require special acknowledgment for doing your job?"

Jack laughed, shaking his head. "I thought you might be impressed."

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. "I guess you were okay."

"Okay?" he repeated, placing a hand over his heart like he'd been mortally wounded. "Tough crowd."

"Don't worry," she said, her smile turning mischievous. "I'll be sure to send you a participation ribbon."

Jack leaned in slightly, his grin becoming more genuine. "How about dinner instead?"

His tone, his expression--there was nothing calculated about it. He was just... sincere. And that made her next move feel all the more like a game.

"Maybe," she took a step back. "If you're lucky."

She walked away, leaving Jack standing there, shaking his head with a smile that said he was already hooked.

~~

Remi laughed softly as she collapsed onto Jack's couch, kicking off her sneakers and tucking her legs under herself. His apartment was a reflection of him--casual, but inviting, with a lingering smell of cologne that was distinctly Jack.

She'd finally taken him up on his dinner offer and it had been the most fun she'd had in a long time.

"You're way too good at losing track of time," Jack said, joining her with two beers in hand. He offered her one, his knee brushing against hers as he settled beside her.

"Time's a construct," she quipped, taking the bottle, glad he had already removed the cap. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the cushion. "And I was having fun."

Jack gave her a crooked smile. "Fun, huh? Is that all I am to you?"

"Oh, don't fish for compliments," she teased, knocking his shoulder with hers. "You're more than fun. You're..." She pretended to think, her smile widening as his expression grew mock-serious. "Moderately entertaining."

Jack rolled his eyes, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "Moderately entertaining? Guess I'll have to up my game."

Before she could reply, he leaned in, his hand sliding along her jaw as his lips found hers. The kiss was warm and confident, tasting of beer and italian food, deepening quickly as he tilted her head back. Remi melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he pressed closer, his weight shifting to pin her against the couch.

The outside world melted away, leaving only the heat of his hands as they pulled her shirt up and the intoxicating way he kissed her--like she was the only thing that mattered. His hands roamed over her waist, her thighs, pulling her against him with a hunger that made her heart beat faster. They quickly stripped down to their underwear, shifting to lay on the couch.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "I'm gonna ruin you, Hughes."

He laughed softly, his forehead resting against hers. "Pretty sure it's the other way around."

Remi reached into the pocket of her discarded jeans, pulling out a case containing a neatly rolled blunt. She held it up between them, her lip pulled between her teeth. "Wanna test that theory?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, but propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she lit the blunt with practiced ease. She took a slow drag, blowing the smoke out in a lazy swirl before handing it to him.

"D'you always carry these around?" he asked, taking it from her and mimicking her movements.

"Only when I'm feeling inspired," she replied, slipping out from under him and onto the floor, patting the space beside her. "Come on. The couch is overrated."

Jack joined her, body sprawling out beside hers as they passed the blunt back and forth. The room filled with the soft haze of smoke, and the tension that had been simmering between them shifted into something more intimate.

"What's your biggest secret?" she asked suddenly, her head turned to look at him.

Jack exhaled a puff of smoke, his brows furrowing as he thought. "Biggest secret? Probably that I suck at cooking."

Remi laughed, elbowing his side. "Come on, Hughes. You can do better than that."

"Alright... I hate how much I care about what people think of me. On the ice, off the ice. It's exhausting sometimes."

Remi blinked, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. She handed him the blunt, her tone gentler. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you're doing just fine."

Jack smiled, taking a drag. "Your turn. Biggest secret."

"I don't think I've ever really been myself," she admitted. "Not around my dad, not around anyone. It's like... I'm always trying to be what people expect."

Jack reached over, his fingers brushing hers. "You're pretty damn great as you are."

The sincerity in his voice made her chest ache, and for the first time, she wondered if she'd underestimated him.

~~

Jack hovered nervously by the back door, his hoodie pulled low over his head, scanning the dark backyard like they were in a spy movie. "I still think this is a terrible idea."

"That's because you're boring," Remi whispered back, pulling her house key from her pocket. The lock clicked softly, and she pushed the door wide with a grin. "See? Easy."

Jack stepped inside hesitantly, wincing when the hinges creaked. "If he catches me--"

"He won't," she cut, turning to grab his hand. Her fingers were warm, steady, and the quick squeeze she gave his palm sent a shiver up his arm. "He's been passed out for hours. I'd know--I checked."

"That's reassuring," he muttered, letting her pull him forward.

The house was dark and still, the only sound the faint hum of the refridgerator in the kitchen. Jack couldn't help but glance around as they moved through the house, his grip on her hand tightening every time the floorboards creaked under their weight.

"This is ridiculous," he hissed when they reached the staircase. "Your dad's not just anyone, Remi. He's my coach. My fucking boss."

She paused mid-step, turning to look at him with a smirk that made his pulse quicken. "And yet you're the one who keeps following me."

He opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut when she tugged on his hand again, pulling him up the stairs. His heart hammered as they passed the closed door to what he could only assume was her dad's bedroom, the faint sound of snoring filtering through the wood.

When they finally reached her bedroom, Remi pushed him inside, locking the door behind them. Jack leaned back against it, exhaling hard as he ran a hand through his hair. "You're gonna get me benched."

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer until her body was pressed against his. "You're too good. He'd never bench you."

"You sure about that?" he mumbled, his voice dropping as his hands slid instinctively to her hips.

"Positive," she replied, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. "Besides, you'll be worth it."

His breath caught, her confidence making him forget how bad of an idea this was. She was dangerous, magnetic, and impossible to resist.

"God, you're reckless," his voice was rough as he leaned down to kiss her.

Her reply was lost against his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hoodie as they stumbled toward the bed.

~~

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of their heavy breathing. Remi lay sprawled across the sheets, her bare skin still warm from Jack's touch. His arm was draped lazily across her waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her ribs as he stared up at the ceiling.

"You okay?" he asked almost hesitantly.

She turned her head to look at him, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Better than okay."

Jack laughed under his breath, pulling her closer. "Good. 'Cause I don't think I'll survive your dad murdering me."

She shook her head, leaning up to press a kiss to the faint red marks she'd left along his collarbone. "Relax. He doesn't need to know."

But as her hand slid across his chest, his fingers gently caught her wrist. His gaze turned serious, searching hers. "You're sure about this? About us?"

For a split second, she hesitated. The way he looked at her--like she was something precious, something worth risking everything for--made her chest tighten in a way she wasn't used to. But she pushed the thought aside, flashing him a toothy grin. "I'm sure."

Jack smiled, leaning down to kiss her again, and the warmth of his hand on her waist made her forget everything else.

~~

Remi slipped into the kitchen the next morning, a slight ache in her muscles and a satisifed smirk on her lips. She was pouring a cup of coffee when her dad walked in, his expression already tense.

"Morning," she said lightly, leaning against the counter.

Phil frowned, eyes narrowing as he studied her. "What's on your neck?"

She instinctively lifted a hand to cover the faint bruise Jack had left just above her collarbone. "Nothing," she lied, turning to grab her mug.

"Don't 'nothing' me," he snapped, stepping closer. "That's a hickey. Who were you with?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," she said, her tone sharper than she intended.

Phil's jaw clenched, his frustration spilling over. "It is my fucking business, Remi. I know boys. Most of them are players who don't care about anything but themselves. I'm not letting you ruin your life for some--"

"I'm not ruining anything!" she snapped, slamming her mug onto the counter, coffee sloshing over the side. "God, Dad, I'm not a kid anymore! You can't control who I spend my time with."

~~

The parking lot was empty except for a few scattered cars. Jack leaned against the driver's side door of his car, his hockey bag tossed in the backseat.

"You waiting for me again?" Remi asked, stopping a few feet away.

"Maybe. Can you blame me?"

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of his jacket. "Not really."

The space between them disappeared as he pulled her in, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was hungry, insistent. Her hands slid up his chest, tangling in the collar of his coat as she pressed herself against him.

Jack groaned softly, his hands gripping her waist as he slid his tongue into her mouth. The cool night air was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of her body and the breathy sounds she made against his mouth.

But the sound of footsteps nearby made them both freeze. Jack pulled back, his heart hammering as he glanced over his shoulder. A security guard was walking along the far side of the lot, his flashlight swinging lazily across the pavement.

"Shit," Jack whispered, running a hand through his tangled hair. "We need to be more careful."

Remi smirked. "Scared, Hughesy?"

He shook his head, exhaling a shaky laugh. "No, just trying not to get caught."

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Where's the fun in that?"

~~

Jack adjusted the collar of his jacket as he led Remi down the familiar hallway to his apartment. He'd suggested they grab dinner at his place after practice--a casual way for her to meet someone close to him. Remi had agreed, though the idea of meeting Luke like this had left a gnawing pit in her stomach.

"Relax," Jack said, glancing back at her as they stopped outside the door. "Luke's chill. He'll be excited to meet you."

"Oh, I'm sure," Remi replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your teammate-slash-brother who's seen me sulking around the rink for weeks? I bet he'll have no questions."

Jack smirked, unlocking the door. "You're overthinking it."

The door swung open, revealing Luke in a Devils hoodie and sweats, his hair damp like he'd just showered. His eyes flickered between Jack and Remi, surprise flashing across his face before he smiled.

"Hey. You actually did bring someone."

"Funny," Jack said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as he walked past. "Remi, this is Luke. Luke, Remi."

Remi extended a hand. "Nice to finally meet you outside of the rink."

Luke shook her hand. "You too. I, uh, I've seen you around a lot. Heard even more."

"Good things, I hope," she replied, shooting Jack a pointed look.

"All good," Luke said quickly, though his smile was tight. She could tell he was connecting the dots in his head.

Remi Bouchard. Coach's daughter. And now... whatever she was to Jack.

They moved into the living room, Jack dropping onto the couch and gesturing for Remi to join him. Luke disappeared into the kitchen, returning with beers. He handed one to Jack and set one on the table in front of Remi.

"So, how'd this happen?" he asked, sitting in the chair opposite them. His tone was casual, but his were sharp, darting between the two of them.

"What, you think I can't pull someone like her?" Jack teased.

"I didn't say that," Luke said quickly. "Just... isn't it... complicated?"

Remi stiffened slightly, but Jack just laughed, taking a swig of his beer. "Not as complicated as you'd think."

Luke's expression didn't change, and the weight of it made Remi shift uncomfortably. She could tell he wanted to ask more--probably about her dad, about how much he knew--but he held back, choosing to make small talk instead.

The evening passed with relative ease, though there was a tension lingering below the surface. Luke was polite, funny, but Remi couldn't shake the feeling that he was analyzing her every word. When they finally left, she let out a sigh she hadn't even realized she was holding.

On the car ride back to her place, Jack was unusually quiet, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. Remi glanced at him, the city lights casting soft shadows across his face.

"You okay?" she asked., s

He nodded. "Yeah. Just... I'm glad you properly met Luke."

"Why?" she asked, her voice light, though the question felt heavier than she intended.

Jack's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Because I really like you. And if this... if we're gonna be something, I want the people I care about to know you."

Guilt prickled at the edges of her thoughts. She forced a smile, reaching over to rest her hand on his thigh. "You're sweet, Hughes. You know that?"

He laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing as he placed a hand over hers. "Don't let it get around. Gotta protect my image."

Her smile didn't waver, but her stomach churned. She wasn't sure if it was guilt, the thrill of rebellion, or something else entirely. All she knew was that Jack Hughes was nothing like she'd expected--and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

~~

Jack sat in his stall, sipping water as he wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. Across the room, Nico and Luke were talking about dinner plans, their voices blending into background noise.

The sound of Phil's sharp whistle cut through the chatter, snapping everyone to attention. Jack tensed, his eyes flickering to the entry where Phil stood, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"Alright, listen up," Phil began, his voice carrying the kind of authority that demanded silence. "I've been watching you guys these past few weeks, and while I'm mostly happy with what I've seen on the ice, I need to remind you all of something."

The room was silent, every pair of eyes fixed on the coach. Jack shifted uncomfortably, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine.

"This team has one goal: to win," Phil continued, pacing slowly in front of the group. "And that means focus. Discipline. No distractions--on the ice or off."

Jack's stomach twisted. Phil's tone was calm, measured, but the words hit like a warning shot. He couldn't help but glance toward Nico, who raised an eyebrow in silent confusion.

"I've been in this game a long time," Phil said, stopping to look directly at the group. "I know what happens when players lose sight of what's important. You think one bad decision won't cost you? Think again. Whether it's partying too much, chasing the wrong kind of attention, or getting involved with the wrong people--it will catch up with you."

Jack swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep a neutral expression. He told himself that Phil didn't know anything, that the speech was just a coincidence. But the way his coach's eyes swept over the room, lingering on him longer than anyone else, made his chest tight.

"That's all," Phil said finally. "Think about what kind of player you want to be--and act like it. See you tomorrow."

The room remained silent as Phil walked out, the door swinging shut behind him. It wasn't until he was gone that the players began to murmur, exchanging confused glances.

"What the hell was that about?" Dawson muttered, leaning toward Jack.

"No idea," he replied quickly. He stood up, grabbing his bag. "I'll catch you later."

As he left the locker room, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that Phil's warning had been aimed directly at him.

~~

Remi stood in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully brushing her hair into place when she heard her dad's voice call her name from the hallway. She sighed, setting the brush down as she turned to face the door.

"Yeah?" she called back, already bracing herself for whatever lecture was coming.

Phil appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression as story as she'd expected. His eyes flickered briefly to her neck, where the faint shadow of a hickey still lingered despite her best efforts to cover it with makeup.

"Who's the guy?" he asked bluntly, his tone clipped.

Remi's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face neutral, crossing her arms to mirrow his stance. "What guy?"

"Don't play games with me, Remi," Phil snapped, stepping further into the room. "I'm not blind. You've been sneaking around, coming home late, and you've got another..." He gestured vaguely toward her neck. "You think I don't know what's going on?"

Remi arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a defiant smirk. "Maybe you don't."

Phil's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I don't have time for this, Remi. You're my daughter, and I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?" she shot back. "Living my life? Making my own decisions? God forbid I do anything you don't approve of."

"This isn't about approval!" he barked. "It's about respect--for yourself and for this family. You're running around with some guy who clearly doesn't care about you--"

"How would you know?" Remi interuppted, stepping closer. Her eyes flashed with anger. "You don't even know who he is."

Phil's face darkened. "And I don't want to know! Whoever he is, he's not worth it. Guys like that only think about themselves."

Remi laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "Wow, Dad. You're so sure you're right about everything, aren't you? Maybe the problem isn't who I'm seeing. Maybe the problem is you."

Phil stared at her, stunned into silence. For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

"You don't get it, do you?" he said finally, his voice lower but no less tense. "This isn't just about you. The choices you make reflect on me--and on this team. I won't let you ruin what we've worked for."

Remi's anger gave away to something colder. "You mean what you've worked for. God forbid I do anything for myself."

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed past him, her steps echoing down the hall as she headed for her room. She slammed the door shut behind her, leaning against it as her heart pounded in her chest.

Her dad didn't know. He couldn't know. But the weight of his words still lingered, settling like a stone in her stomach.

~~

The room was quiet, Jack lay sprawled across the bed, his body still covered in a sheen of sweat. The sheets were a tangled mess beneath him, and the scent of sex and Remi's perfume lingered in the air.

Remi had slipped into the bathroom a few minutes ago, the sound of running water muffled by the door. Jack stared at the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips as he replayed the way she looked down at him--wild and unguarded, like he was the only person in the world that mattered.

His reverie was interrupted by the sharp buzz of her phone on the nighstand. It vibrated again, and again, lighting up the screen with notifications.

Jack hesitated, glancing toward the bathroom door. Don't man. Just leave it.

But the buzzing didn't stop, and before he could talk himself out of it, he reached over, turning the phone toward him. The messages were from a group labeled "Bad Bitches Only," the preview showing snippets of texts that made his brow furrow.

Talia: did you see him tonight?

Carmen: yeah, she's got him wrapped around her finger

Talia: rem is a mastermind. her dad's gonna lose it when he finds out

The words hit Jack like a slap to the face. He knew he shouldn't--but his curiosity was like an itch he couldn't ignore.

His thumb hovered over the screen, and then he guessed. Her passcode was simple--her birthday. His pulse quickened when the phone unlocked, revealing the full thread.

Talia: how's it feel to be breaking all daddy's rules?

Remi: better than i thought. he has noooo idea

Carmen: does jack know you're just using him or does he actually think you're like into him?

Remi: oh, he thinks it's real. poor guy's falling HARD

Talia: and when phil finds out?

Remi: that's the best part. let him stew

His chest felt like it had caved in, the air sucked from the room. The words blurred, but their meaning was crystal clear.

The bathroom door opened, and Remi walked out, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair framing her face. She stopped short when she saw him sitting up on the bed, her phone clutched in his hand.

"What are you doing with my phone?" she asked, her tone sharp, but there was a flicker of something else--panic--in her eyes.

Jack stood, his grip on the device tightening as he turned to face her. "What the hell is this, Remi?" His voice was low, dangerously quiet.

"What are you talking about?"

"This," he snapped, holding up the phone. "This whole... game you're playing. Using me to get back at your dad? To prove some point? Is that what all this was?"

Her eyes widened, and she stepped forward, hands raised. "Jack, it's not like that--"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice cracking. "Don't even try to lie. I read the messages."

Remi's mouth opened, then closed like a fish, her face pale. "You shouldn't have done that," her voice trembled.

Jack let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "That's what you're worried about? That I invaded your privacy? Jesus Christ, Remi. I thought you actually cared about me."

"I do!" she blurted out. "Jack, I--"

"Don't," he cut her off again, backing away. "You don't get to say that. Not after this."

She reached for him, but he jerked his arm away. "Jack, please. Just let me explain."

"Explain what?" he snapped, his eyes blazing. "How you pretended to give a shit about me? How every kiss, every touch, was part of some sick plan to piss off your dad? Do you even know what you've done? How I--" His voice broke, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair.

"Jack," she whispered, her voice thick with desperation. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Bullshit," he spat, spinning to face her. "That's all this was. Hurting me, hurting him. None of it was real, was it?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. The truth was written all over her face.

Jack exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. He tossed the phone onto the bed and grabbed his shirt, pulling it on with shaking hands. "You know what? You're just like him."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"You manipulate people to get what you want," he said, his voice hollow. "You don't care about anyone but yourself."

Remi flinched like he'd slapped her, her eyes glassy. "That's not fair."

Jack's jaw clenched, but he didn't reply. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, his steps heavy with anger and heartbreak.

"Jack, wait!" she called, her voice breaking. "Please, just--"

The door slammed behind him, cutting her off. The sound echoed through the silence, leaving Remi standing in the middle of her room, her chest heaving as tears spilled down her cheeks.

For the first time, the weight of what she'd done hit her with full force. She sank onto the bed, staring at her phone like it was a bomb that had just gone off.

~~

The silence in the room was deafening. Remi sat on the edge of her bed, her legs curled up to her chest as she stared at her phone lying on the crumpled sheets. The screen was dark, but the words Jack had read were burned into her mind. Her chest felt hollow, her breath shallow as her thoughts raced, tears spilling from her eyes.

I thought you actually cared about me.

His voice haunted her, raw and broken, the weight of his anger hitting her like a punch to the gut. She wrapped her arms around herself, the sting of his words cutting deeper and deeper. For someone who'd always prided herself on control, on being untouchable, she felt exposed--like every carefully constructed wall she'd built had come crashing down in an instant.

Her phone buzzed on the bed beside her, and she grabbed it, hoping--praying--it was Jack. But it was just a text from Talia.

Talia: what happened? you okay??

Remi's fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she couldn't bring herself to reply. Instead, she set the phone down again, her gaze drifting to the messy sheets, the imprint of where Jack had been laying not even half an hour before. She reached out, her fingers brushing the fabric, and a fresh wave of regret crashed over her.

None of it was real, was it?

The question hung in her mind, heavy and suffocating. And for the first time, she realized the answer wasn't as simple as she'd thought. At first, she'd convinced herself it was all part of the plan--a way to rebel, to defy her dad in the most calculated way possible. But somewhere along the line, something had shifted.

Her favourite moments with Jack began playing in her mind, uninvited.

They'd sprawled on the floor of his apartment, the faint haze of smoke curling in the air between them. Jack had been tracing patterns on the rug with his finger, his voice soft as he opened up about his fears--about letting people down, about never living up to expectations.

"You know," he'd said, glancing at her with a shy smile, "I don't think I've ever been this honest with anyone before."

Her chest had tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. "Maybe that's because you don't let people in."

He'd laughed, shaking his head. "And yet, here I am. Letting you in."

At the time, she'd brushed it off, teasing him about being sappy. But now the memory hit her differently, the weight of his trust making her throat feel raw.

Jack had taken her to a quiet overlook just outside the city, the twinkling lights stretching out before them like a sea of stars. He'd sat beside her on the hood of his car, their shoulders touching as they took in the scene in front of them.

"This is where I go when I need to clear my head," he'd said, his voice low. "Figured you might like it."

She'd turned to look at him, surprised by his soft expression. "Why'd you bring me here?"

He'd shrugged, but his eyes had been earnest. "Because you're different. You get me."

Then, she'd smiled, but now the memory felt bittersweet. You're different. His words had meant something then--something she'd ignored.

She'd always loved the way he looked at her, like she was the only person in the room. Whether they were stealing kisses in a quiet corner, or sharing laughs over takeout, his gaze had been steady, warm, and full of something she hadn't wanted to name.

But now, as she replayed those moments, she realized what it was. He'd looked at her like he loved her.

And the truth hit her like a freight train: She'd fallen for him, too.

She sucked in a shaky breath, pressing her palms to her eyes as tears spilled over. How had she let it get this far? How had she been so blind? The very thing she'd been trying to avoid--caring too much, being vulnerable--had happened anyway. And now she'd lost him.

The regret sat on her chest, suffocating her. She grabbed her phone, unlocking it with trembling hands, and opened her messages.

jack, i'm so sorry. please, let me explain

She stared at the screen, the cursor blinking accusingly. She hit send, her heart pounding, and followed it with another.

i never meant to hurt you. you mean more to me than you know

The texts went unanswered. She tried again, dialing his number. It rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail.

"Jack," she said, her voice cracking as she struggled to hold back tears. "Please. Just... call me back. I know I screwed up, but I need you to know that I--" She stopped, biting her lip to keep from sobbing. "I care about you. I care about you so much, and I-- I'm sorry. I'll explain everything. Just... please."

She ended the call, staring at the screen like it might magically light up with a reply. But nothing came.

The days passed into agonizing silence. Jack didn't respond to her texts or her voicemails, and each unanswered message felt like another nail in the coffin.

She barely slept, barely ate, her mind consumed with guilt and the aching emptiness he'd left behind. Her friends' attempts to cheer her up fell flat, and even her usual rebellious streak lost its spark.

She felt truly alone.

~~

Jack didn't feel like himself. Not on the ice, not in the locker room, not even at home.

The hurt and anger churned inside him like a storm he couldn't shake. He'd barely slept since the night at Remi's, and when he did, he woke up angry all over again. Her words, her actions, her texts--they played on a loop in his mind, taunting him.

You don't care about anyone but yourself.

His own voice echoed in his head, laced with the same bitterness that had been clawing at him ever since he stormed out of her room. He hated that he'd said it. But more than that, he hated that she'd made him feel that way.

The buzzer sounded, snapping him back to the present. He was at practice, the familiar hum of the arena doing little to calm the chaos in his mind. Jack skated hard, pushing himself past the point of exhaustion, but the frustration remained, clawing at him like a weight he couldn't shake.

During a drill, he lost the puck to Nico, who darted past him with ease. Normally, Jack would've shrugged it off, but today it felt like salt in the wound. He slammed his stick against the boards, muttering a curse loud enough for Nico to glance back in confusion.

"You good, man?" Nico skated closer.

Jack waved him off, not trusting himself to answer. The rest of practice passed in a blur of misplaced passes and uncharacteristic mistakes. He felt every set of eyes on him, but he didn't care.

~~

By the time the puck dropped for their next game, Jack's head was still far from clear. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

He started the game strong, channeling his frustration into speed and aggression. But as the minutes ticked by, his emotions got the better of him.

A harmless shove from an opposing player turned into a cross-check, earning him two minutes in the box.

When he returned to the ice, it happened again--a poorly timed hit that left his teammates scrambling to recover. This time, the refs weren't as forgiving.

"Two for boarding!" the ref barked, gesturing him off the ice.

Jack skated to the penalty box, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Luke caught his eye from the bench, his expression confused and concerned.

The final straw came in the third period. An opponent chirped him during a faceoff, something innocuous, but it set Jack off. Before he knew it, he was swinging, his gloves hitting the ice as he grabbed the guy by his jersey.

The refs blew the whistle, chaos breaking out around them. Jack barely felt the punches before they were pulling him away, ejecting him from the game.

~~

He sat alone in the locker room, his head in his hands. His knuckles throbbed, his chest heaving as he replayed the fight in his mind.

The door swung open, and Luke stepped in, his skates still on, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What the hell was that, Jack?" Luke demanded, dropping onto the bench across from him.

"Not now, Luke," Jack muttered, not looking up.

"No, now," Luke snapped, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. "What's going on with you? You're acting like a complete idiot out there. First penalities, now getting tossed from a game? You're better than this."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

"Talk to me, Jack. Is it about Remi?"

The mention of her name felt like another insult to injury. Jack's head snapped up, his eyes blazing. "Stay out of it, Luke."

"Jack--"

"I said stay out of it!" Jack barked, slamming his fist against the bench. The sound echoed through the room, but Luke didn't flinch.

"I'll take that as a yes," Luke said quietly. "What happened?"

Jack stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal. "Nothing. Just drop it."

"You're full of shit," Luke shot back, standing now too. "You haven't been yourself for like a week now. You're angry all the time, you're screwing up on the ice, and you can't even look me in the eye."

"Luke--"

"And you know what else?" the youngest Hughes interrupted. "I haven't seen her around the rink lately. She used to be here all the time, hanging out, waiting for you. But now? Nothing. So either you tell me what's going on, or I'm going to have to go Phil and tell him about whatever the hell's been going on between you two."

Jack froze. "You wouldn't."

"Try," Luke said, crossing his arms. "I'm not gonna let you self-destruct over some girl. So tell me the truth."

Jack exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the weight of Luke's words settle over him. Finally, he sank back onto the bench, his head in his hands.

"She was using me," he said quietly, his voice strained. "It was all some stupid plan to piss off Phil. I was just a pawn."

"Jack..."

"I thought she cared about me," Jack continued, his voice breaking. "But it was all fake. Every kiss, every--" He stopped, shaking his head. "God, I'm so fucking stupid."

"You're not stupid," Luke said firmly, getting up to sit beside him. "You just... cared about the wrong person."

Jack laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Well, it doesn't matter now."

Luke placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You don't have to deal with this alone, you know. Whatever happens, I've got your back."

Jack nodded, though the ache in his chest remained.

~~

Every word that Remi texted Jack felt inadequate, like she was trying to patch up a sinking ship with duct tape. She knew she'd screwed up--more than screwed up. She'd hurt someone who didn't deserve it, someone who'd been nothing but good to her.

Her dad was downstairs on the phone, talking loudly about hockey. Probably complaining about something that had happened at the game that night. She hated hearing him talk about hockey even more now--it just made her think of Jack.

She opened her phone, scrolling through Instagram for any content that could help distract her. But it was useless, the Devils account was the first one that came up. It was a picture of the guys hugging after the win. She clicked on the comments and her heart stopped.

Jack had been ejected from the game. She had to find the clip. She turned to Twitter, scrolling until she found it. She watched as he started a pointless fight, throwing his gloves to the ice. The refs blew the whistle and a beyond pissed Jack was escorted off the ice.

"Damn it, Jack," she whispered, wiping the single tear that had fallen onto her phone screen.

~~

"Remi, you have to stop," Talia said through the phone, sitting criss-cross on her bed.

"I can't," Remi replied, pacing her room. "I can't just leave it like this. He--he means too much to me."

"Does he, though?" Talia raised a brow. "Because last time I checked, this was all about pissing your dad off."

Remi stopped, turning to glare at her friend through the screen. "That's how it started. It's not what it is now."

"Really?" Talia challenged, crossing her arms. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're just upset because you got caught."

"That's not true," Remi snapped, her voice rising. "You don't understand. He's--" She stopped, pulling at the roots of her hair. "I care about him, Talia. I--"

"You what?" Talia interrupted, her eyes wide.

Remi hesitated. The words felt too big, too raw, but they were there, clawing their way out.

"I love him," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Talia just blinked, her mouth falling open.

"I didn't mean to," Remi continued, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "But I do. And now he hates me, and it's all my fault."

"Ugh, girl. I wish I could give you the biggest hug... but you really screwed this up, huh?"

"Yeah. Big time."

~~

She stood outside the apartment door, her hands trembling as she knocked. She'd rehearsed what she was going to say with Talia at least a dozen times, but now, standing there, her chest felt tight and her mind went blank.

It had been two weeks since she'd seen Jack, and the silence had been unbearable. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to talk to him, even if it meant facing his anger head-on.

The door opened after a few moments, and Luke appeared, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to immediate hostility when he saw her.

"Hell no," Luke said, his tone flat and unwavering. "He doesn't want to see you."

"Luke, please," Remi begged. "I just need five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

"No," Luke said firmly, stepping back like he intended to close the door in her face. "You've done enough. Go home, Remi."

"What's going on?" Jack's voice came from inside the apartment, faint but growing louder as he approached.

"It's nobody," Luke called back, throwing a glare in the girl's direction. "They've got the wrong place."

Remi's heart sank, but before she could say anything, Jack appeared behind his brother, his brow furrowing as he looked past Luke.

The moment their eyes met, Jack's face hardened, his jaw clenching. "You've got be fucking kidding me," he muttered, stepping past Luke to block the doorway.

"Jack," Remi said, her voice trembling. "Please. Just let me explain. I need to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about," Jack replied coldly, crossing his arms. "You made it pretty clear how you feel."

"Jack, come on," Luke interjected, his tone softer but still protective. "You don't have to do this."

Jack held up a hand to silence his brother, his eyes never leaving Remi's. "What could you possibly have to say that I'd want to hear?"

She swallowed hard, shrinking under the weight of his anger. "I know I hurt you," she said quietly. "I know I screwed up. But I need you to hear me out. Please."

Jack stared at her for what felt like hours, his expression unreadable. Finally, he stepped back, his voice sharp as he turned to Luke. "It's fine. I've got this."

Luke hesitated, his face screwing up as he looked between the two of them. "I'll be in my room," he said finally, walking off but not before shooting Remi one more death stare.

Jack stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound impossibly loud in the heavy silence that followed.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a posture that screamed frustration. "You've got five minutes," he said curtly.

Remi took a deep breath, searching her head to find the right words. "I don't even know where to start," she admitted, her voice shaking.

Jack let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "That's a great sign."

"Jack, please," she said. "I know I don't deserve it, but you have to know that I never meant for things to end up like this."

He raised an eyebrow, his anger simmering just below the surface. "Oh, so you accidentally used me to piss off your dad? Is that what you're saying?"

Remi winced. "That's how it started. But it's not what it became. I swear to you, Jack, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Didn't mean to?" he repeated. "Do you even hear yourself? You played me, Remi. You lied to me, over and over again. And for what? To prove a point?"

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "You're right. I lied. I was selfish. I was awful. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about my dad and started being about you."

Jack scoffed, turning away from her. "Yeah? And when exactly did that happen? Before or after you told your friends I was just a pawn?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "I don't know when it happened. But it did, Jack. I care about you. I--" She stopped, her throat closing up. "I love you."

Jack froze, his back still turned to her. The silence that followed was deafening, and Remi's chest heaved as she took deep breaths to calm herself.

"You don't get to say that," Jack said finally, his voice low and filled with pain. He turned to face her, his eyes now also glossy. "You don't get to use me, break me, then tell me you love me like it makes it all okay."

Remi took a shaky step forward, her hands clasped like she was begging. "I know it doesn't fix anything," she said. "But it's the truth. I love you, Jack. And I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

He stared at her, his jaw ticking as he tried to process her words. Finally, he let out a long sigh.

"I can't do this right now."

Remi's heart sank, but she nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Jack turned away again, walking toward the hallway without another word. She stod there for a moment, her chest heaving with sobs, before letting herself out.

She'd said what she needed to say, but the bottomless pit in her stomach told her that it wasn't enough.

~~

Remi felt like she was at a school dance with the glittering lights, clinking glasses, and people huddled in groups. Players mingled with donors and fans, their tuxedos adding to the air of sosphistication surrounding the event. Remi stood near the edge of the room, her strapless black dress hugging her figure perfectly. She'd only come because her dad had insisted--demanded, really--after their most recent fight.

"Try not to embarrass me for once," he said, his words like a harsh slap.

So, there she was, a forced smile on her face, a flute of champagne in her hand. She didn't bother hiding her trips to the bar. No one noticed, and even if they did, they wouldn't dare say anything to Phil Bouchard's daughter.

The alcohol warmed her from the inside out, dulling the sharpness of her dad's disapproval. But even with the champagne flowing, she couldn't stop her gaze from darting across the room, searching for him.

She spotted Jack near the far corner, his dark suit fitting him perfectly, his tie slightly loosened as he laughed at something Nico said. Her chest tightened at the sight of him, her fingers gripping the stem of her glass.

She should leave him alone. But the pull was magnetic.

Jack noticed her before she reached him, his smile fading as their eyes met. His posture stiffened, but he didn't move, watching as she approached.

"Hey," she said softly, stopping a few feet away.

"Hey," he replied, his voice guarded.

"What are you drinking?" she gestured to his glass.

"Does it matter?" He looked down at the whiskey in his hand.

Remi winced at the edge in his tone but pressed on. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Yeah, well," he said, looking at her champagne flute, "I work for the team. I didn't know you'd be here."

She swallowed hard, her confidence faltering under his cool demeanor. But then she noticed the slight flush on his cheeks, the faint glassiness in his eyes. He wasn't completely sober either.

"I miss you," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Jack's grip on his glass visibly tightened. "Don't."

"I mean it," she insisted. "Jack, I--"

"I'm serious, Remi," he interrupted. "You don't get to prance over here, say you miss me, and expect everything to be okay."

Her chest ached, but the alcohol flowing through her veins made her bold. "I don't expect everything to be okay," she said. "I just--I needed to see you."

Jack sighed. "You think a few words are gonna fix what you did? We've already had this conversation. You think I'm just gonna forget--"

"I love you."

He stared at her, his lips pursed, letting her words hang in the air.

"Say something," she whispered.

Jack shook his head. "You're impossible."

And then he looked around to make sure nobody was watching... and he kissed her.

Their kiss was fiery, weeks of unresolved tension compressed into a single moment. Jack's hands gripped her waist, pulling her tight against him as she squeezed his forearms.

"Come with me," he mumbled against her lips, his voice rough.

The stumbled down a hallway, their steps hurried and uneven. Jack pushed open the door to the bathroom, pulling her inside before locking it behind them.

"Jack," she breathed, her back hitting the counter as his lips found her neck.

"Shut up," he muttered, hands roaming her body as he tried to make up for lost time.

Her dress slipped down her body, his pants hitting the floor as their kisses grew more frantic. All the hurt, all the anger, dissolved into urgency, their bodies together as if they'd been starved of each other.

~~

Remi woke up in her room, her head pounding from the champagne. She sat up, memories of the night flooding back in vivid detail. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of her bathroom rendezvous with Jack. She reached for her phone, and there was already a text waiting for her.

Jack: We need to talk. Call me when you're up

He'd never been one for small talk, and the tone of his text felt heavy, deliberate.

Her fingers hovered over the call button. He answered after two rings.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"About last night--"

"We need to have a serious conversation," he cut her off.

"Oh, um, okay."

"Is your dad home this afternoon? I'll come by later." Before she could even respond, the line went dead.

Whatever Jack had to say, she knew it wasn't going to be easy.

~~

Remi sat on the couch, staring at the clock on the wall. Jack had said he'd come by, and now every passing second felt like an eternity. Her mind raced with what he might say. As soon as there was a knock at the door, she bolted up, straightening her shirt as she walked to the door.

Jack was standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, his expression serious. He walked past her into the living room, standing near the coffee table, his posture tense.

"About last night... I'm sorry if--"

"Don't," Jack held up his hand. "Don't start with sorry. I've heard that before."

Remi flinched, but she nodded. "Okay. Then... what do you want to say?"

"Last night... it happened so fast. And I don't regret it. But we can't just go back to how things were."

"I don't want that either. I want to fix this. Fix us."

Jack's eyes flashed with hope, but he kept his tone firm. "If we're going to do this, things have to change, Remi. You have to change."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. This isn't just about what happened. It's about everything. The games, the rebellion, the lying. You can't keep doing things just to piss off your dad or to prove a point."

Remi opened her mouth to respond, but he kept going. "Do you even know what that did to me? Knowing I was just some pawn in whatever battle you're fighting with him?"

"That's not what you are to me. Not anymore."

"Then prove it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean show me that you're serious. Show me that this isn't another game for you. Because I can't go through this again, Remi. I can't keep wondering if I'm enough or if you're just going to throw me under the bus when it's convenient."

Her chest ached at the pain in his voice, the vulnerability he was letting her see. "I'll do whatever it takes, Jack. I swear."

"Then start with being honest. Not just with me, but with your dad. Stop sneaking around, stop playing these games. If you want this to work, it has to be real--all of it."

The idea of facing her dad, of owning up to everything, sent a jolt of fear through her. But as she stared at the man she loved, the weight of his words sank in. If she didn't do this--if she didn't prove she was serious--she'd lose him for good.

"Okay... I'll tell him."

"And no more lies," he added. "No more excuses. If I'm in this, I need to know that you are too."

"I am. Jack, I am."

"Then we'll see."

Remi nodded, tears streaking her cheeks. "I'll prove it to you. I promise."

For the first time since he'd walked in, Jack smiled. "You better."

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at her. "One step at a time, Remi. We'll figure it out."

~~

Phil sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand as he scrolled through his tablet, his posture rigid as ever. Remi stood in the doorway, her palms clammy as she steeled herself. Her nerves felt like they were on fire, her hands shaking.

"Dad."

"Hm?"

"Dad."

"What is it, Remi?"

She took a deep breath, gripping the back of a chair for support. "I need to tell you something. And I need you to actually listen to me."

He frowned, setting down his tablet. "Go on."

"I'm seeing someone. And before you say anything, I know you're going to be mad, but--"

"Who?" Phil interrupted.

She hesitated, but there was no point in lying. "Jack."

Phil gripped his mug so tightly that Remi thought it might crack from the pressure. "Jack who?"

"You know who."

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You're joking."

"I'm not!" she stood up straight. "I love him."

"Love him? You've lost your goddamn mind, Remi. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I haven't done anything wrong," she retorted. "I'm not a kid, Dad. You don't get to control who I have feelings for."

"This isn't about control," he began to pace the kitchen. "This is about respect--something you clearly don't have for me or my job."

"This has nothing to do with your job!" she threw her hands up.

"It has everything to do with my job!" Phil barked, slamming his hand down on the table. "I trusted Jack. I treated him like a professional, and he goes behind my back to... to--"

"To care about your daughter? Yeah, real betrayal there."

Phil pointed a finger at her, his voice deadly calm now. "This ends today. You're done seeing him."

"You can't stop me," she said defiantly, though her voice wavered.

"Watch me. You're banned from games, practices, and anything to do with this team. And Jack--he's going to learn what happens when you cross a line."

Her stomach dropped. "You can't punish him for this," she panicked.

"Like hell I can't! If he wants to act like an amateur, he can work twice as hard to prove he still deserves his spot."

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "You're being unfair."

"I'm being a father. And you're too young to understand what that means."

"I'm not a child," she whispered.

"Then stop acting like one."

~~

True to his word, Phil enforced his ban swiftly. The next morning, security at the rink had a list with her name on it, and when she tried to text Jack about meeting him after practice, he replied curtly.

Jack: Can't

Remi: why not? :(

Jack: Your dad's got us running drills nonstop. I'm wiped

Remi: i'm sorry, j. this is all my fault

The three little bubbles appeared, then disappeared. No reply came.

Remi felt trapped, helpless. Her dad's wrath was affecting not just, but Jack as well. And that hurt almost as much as not being able to see him.

~~

Jack stood on the ice, his legs burning as Phil barked orders from the bench. It was their third round of line rushes, and he wasn't sure he had it in him to finish.

"Move faster, Hughes!" Phil yelled. "You think you're tired? You think the other team's gonna care? Again!"

Jack bit down hard on his tongue, forcing his body to keep moving. He could feel his teammates' eyes on him, some confused, others sympathetic. But none of them dared to ask what was happening.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Luke asked, collapsing onto the bench next to his brother.

Jack shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. Why's Phil riding you harder than anyone else? What's going on?"

Jack didn't answer, staring at his shaking hands.

"It's about her, isn't it?"

Jack still didn't speak.

"Jack, I get it. You really like her. She's stunning and super sweet. But this thing with her and Phil? It's a disaster waiting to happen."

"You think I don't know that?" Jack snapped, finally looking up at him. "You think I'm not already dealing with it?"

Luke held up his hands in surrender. "Alright. Just... don't let him break you over her, okay?"

Silence.

~~

Phil had always been a disciplinarian, but lately, his need to control his daughter felt suffocating. She felt it in the way he scrutinized her every move, every conversation.

The final straw came one evening when he caught her lingering outside the rink after practice, talking to Luke.

"Hand it over," he demanded when they arrived home, his hand outstretched.

Remi frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Your phone. I'm not an idiot, Remi. You think I don't know you're still talking to him? You're done. Give it to me."

"Dad, this is ridiculous--"

"Now!"

Reluctantly, she handed him her phone, her stomach sinking as he walked away with it.

~~

Deprived of her usual means of communication, Remi turned to one of the few people who could help her: Luke.

It started with a simple note slipped into his car window, written hastily on a scrap of notebook paper.

Luke,

Please get this to Jack. I need him to know I'm not ghosting him.

Luke, initially hesitant, agreed after some convincing from Jack, who pleaded with his younger brother to help them stay in touch.

From then on, he became their unofficial carrier pigeon.

He delivered folded notes in his hockey bag. He passed them off casually after practice, muttering "You dropped this" to avoid suspicion. Once, he even hid a letter in a water bottle, smuggling it onto the bench during a game.

The notes became their lifeline, filled with promises, apologies, and small updates:

Remi, I miss you. Today was brutal. Your dad's riding me harder than ever, but thinking about your little notes makes it bearable.

Jack, I miss you too. I wish I could be there to make things easier. This is such bullshit.

~~

One evening, Phil barged into Remi's room unannounced, his expression stormy. "Why've you been talking to Luke?"

She barely had time to react before he noticed the small stack of papers peeking out from beneath her pillow.

"What's this?" he snatched them before she could stop him.

"Dad, don't--"

But it was too late. His face turned bright red as he read the letters, steam practically coming from his ears.

"Unbelievable! You've been sneaking around still! And using one of my other players to do it? Do you have any idea how fucking stupid this is?"

"It's not stupid! I care about him."

He held up one of the letters. "You care about him? Enough to sleep with him, apparently."

Her face flushed, her heart pounding.

"You didn't think I'd find out? I continue to give Jack a shot because I thought he had potential. That he's professional. Turns out, he's just as reckless as you are!"

~~

The next practice was brutal. Jack knew something was wrong the moment he stepped onto the ice. Phil barely looked at him, but his commands were clipped, his critiques harsher than ever.

When the starting lineup was announced, Jack's name was glaringly absent.

"Coach," he said after practice, jogging to catch up with Phil in the hallway. "What's going on? Why am I not playing?"

Phil turned to him, his expression cold. "Disciplinary reasons," he said like it was the simplest thing ever.

"I... I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh, haven't you? I trusted you, Jack. You're an alternate captain. I'm here to help you, and this is how you repay me? By crosing every line I've set?"

"With all due respect, sir, my personal life doesn't affect my performance on the ice."

"It does when it distracts you and causes chaos within the team. You're lucky I haven't gone to the GM."

~~

That night, Remi was lying in her bed, when a faint tapping sound drew her attention. She frowned, pulling off her warm covers and walking to the window.

Jack was standing in the backyard, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Remi!" he hissed.

Her heart leapt to her throat, and she quickly opened the window. "What are you doing here?"

"Let me in," he said, gesturing toward the tree by her window.

She hesitated for a second before nodding. Jack climbed up with surprising ease, swinging himself onto the ledge before stepping into her room.

He was breathless, his hair a mess. "Your dad's lost his fucking mind. He's cutting my ice time, and he's blaming me for everything."

"Jack, I'm so sorry--"

"I don't care about me," his eyes searched hers. "I care about us. I don't know how much longer I can do this, Rem. He's making my life a living hell."

"We'll figure it out. I promise."

"Remi! Is there someone in there?"

She froze, the voice coming from the other side of her bedroom door, heavy with suspicion.

"Remi?" he asked again. "What's going on in there?"

"Under the bed," she whispered urgently, shoving him toward the narrow space.

"Seriously?" he hissed, his voice incredulous.

"Do you have a better idea?" she asked, already grabbing the edge of the duvet to shield the gap.

Jack didn't argue any further, dropping to his knees and sliding under the bed just as her doorknob jiggled.

The door creaked open, and her dad did a quick sweep of the room. "What's going on in here? Is everything okay?"

"Nothing," her voice was too quick, too high-pitched. "Why are you even in here?"

"I... I thought I heard voices."

"From the TV," she nodded to her laptop on her bed, where Netflix played quietly. She gestured toward it dramatically. "See? I couldn't sleep, so I turned something on."

Phil pulled her into a hug, smoothing down her messy bed hair. "You've been sneaking around, Remi. If you're hiding something--"

She pulled away. "I'm not. I'm trying to relax. You can't just barge in every time you get paranoid."

"Keep it down," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "And don't test me, kid. You're already on thin, thin ice."

The moment his footsteps retreated back down the hallway, she bent down to lift the duvet.

"Jack," she whispered. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, sliding out from under the bed. His face was flushed and his hair even messier than before. "That was fun."

She giggled. "Sorry, babe."

"You're good under pressure, I'll give you that."

"Not bad yourself," she scrunched up her face as he pressed a kiss to her nose.

"So..."

"What do we do next? Run away? Get me a burner phone and live off the grid?"

Jack laughed despite himself. "I don't know. I just... I'm not gonna lose you, Rem."

"You won't. I love you, Jack."

"I love you more."

"We've got this."

"I hope you're right."

~~

Another fight with Phil had left Remi rattled, and she'd stormed out of the house to clear her head. A walk through the neigbourhood usually helped, but the slippery sidewalk--coated with frost--proved to be dangerous when walking as fast as she was.

Her foot slipped from under her as she turned the corner, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance. Instead, she went down hard, her ankle twisting painfully beneath her as she hit the pavement.

"Shit," she hissed, clutching her leg. The sharp, stabbing pain told her something was wrong, and she felt like puking at the sight of her already swelling ankle.

She fumbled for her phone, but of course, it wasn't there. Her dad still had it, leaving her with no way to call for help.

The sound of a car engine approaching made her look up, and relief flooded her when she recognized Jack's car pulling to a stop.

"Remi?" his face screwed up as he cut the engine.

"Jack," she gasped, tears falling as he crouched beside her.

"What happened?" he asked, examining her ankle.

"I slipped. I think it's sprained? I'm... I'm not really sure."

Jack didn't hesitate. He slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her effortlessly. "I've got you, baby."

He stayed by her side the entire time, his hand never leaving hers as they waited for a doctor in the ER. He helped fill out paperwork, fetched water when she needed it, and even cracked a few horrible jokes to distract her from the pain.

When the doctor confirmed it was a pretty bad sprain, Jack insisted on picking up her medication and made sure she had crutches before they left. By the time they got back to her house, night had fallen. He helped her inside, careful with every step as he guided her to the couch.

"You don't have to say," she mumbled sleepily, though she didn't mean it.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied firmly, adjusting the ice pack on her foot.

Their peace was broken by the door slamming shut. Phil's heavy footsteps entered the living room, his face scrunched up as soon as he saw Jack sitting there.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Remi winced, trying to push herself up straighter. "Dad, I--"

"You have some nerve," Phil snapped, his glare fixed on Jack. "I told you to stay away from her."

Jack stood, hands clenched at his sides. "She was hurt. She needed help."

"And that gave you the right to defy me? You've disrespected me and the team time and time again, Hughes."

"Dad, stop! He didn't do anything wrong! I fell, and he was there. If it wasn't for Jack, I'd probably still be sitting on the sidewalk."

Phil's gaze flickered to her, his face softening slightly, before he turned back to Jack. "You're off the team. Effective immediately."

"Dad, no!"

"Wait. You can bench me, cut my ice time, try to kick me off the team... but that's not going to change how I feel about her."

Phil narrowed his eyes, but Jack didn't falter.

"I care about her. More than anything. And I know you hate this, but I'm not going to walk away just because it's inconvenient for you. I love her too much for that."

Phil sighed, running a hand over his face. "You're not going anywhere tonight."

Jack blinked, caught completely off guard. "Sir?"

"She's injured," he said gruffly. "Someone has to keep an eye on her. You're already here--might as well make yourself useful."

"Dad--"

"I'm not saying I approve," he held up a hand. "But... maybe I've been a bit too harsh."

~~

Jack's days became a balancing act. Mornings were for practices, where he pushed himself harder than ever, determined to prove to Phil--and himself--that he could handle the demands of both his hockey career and his personal life. Evenings were for Remi, where he'd show up at the house with groceries, helping her navigate her life on crutches.

Phi, ever watchful, made his presence known whenever Jack was around.

"Door stays open," he'd said the second night Jack came to help. He leaned against the doorframe, looking between the two young adults. "And no funny business."

"Yes sir," Jack replied, biting back a smile as he helped Remi prop up her injured leg on a pillow.

"And I meant it. No going into the bathroom together, no sneaking around, no--"

"Dad, we get it," Remi rolled her eyes. "We're not thirteen."

Phil shot her a look, but didn't say anything more.

Jack leaned in with a grin. "Well, that went better than expected."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Don't get too comfortable. He's probably listening right now."

Jack chuckled but kept his hands firmly on the heating pad he was adjusting on her ankle.

~~

Phil observed them quietly for the next week or so. One evening, he sat in the living room, pretending to read a book while Jack and Remi played cards at the kitchen table. He glanced up occasionally, watching as they laughed and teased each other, the room filled with an ease he hadn't seen in his daughter in... years.

"Jack," she giggled. "You're terrible at this game."

"I'm letting you win because you're injured," Jack shot back with a smirk.

"Oh please," she scoffed, re-shuffling the deck. "You're just bad."

Phil watched as Jack leaned in, whispering something that made Remi burst into laughter, her cheeks glowing.

It hit him then--how much Jack truly scared for her. The way he looked at her, like she was the most important thing in the room. The way he balanced his career and her injury without a single complaint. The way Remi never stopped smiling around him.

He sighed, setting down his book. "Jack," he called, drawing their attention.

"Yes, sir?"

Phil cleared his throat, the words getting stuck halfway. "You... you've been good to her."

Jack's eyes widened, but he nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't make me regret saying that."

His acceptance just grew from there, marked by small moments of trust and understanding. Though he kept his rules in place--like the open door policy and no PDA--he began to soften, joining them for dinner occasionally or offering Jack advice after games.

One day, after a particularly good win, Phil even clapped Jack on the back, a rare gesture of approval. "You played well out there," he said, his tone almost warm.

Jack grinned. "Thanks, Coach."

And while it wasn't a happily-ever-after, it was a start.

[ratsummer]

I think Phantom was fending for himself for years in the pit, running the circles from just about the age a ghoul can probably survive on their own. He was born into a small but loving pack, so he learned how to be a good ghoul kit, but once he was on his own, he didn't have anyone to socialize him as a young adult ghoul. Sure, he'd tag along with the odd band of ghouls here and there when the opportunity arose, but those alliances were born out of necessity and always quite brief.

All this to say, between his lack of guidance from adult ghouls, his trauma, and the neurodivergencies he was born with, Phantom has held on to a lot of ghoul kit behaviors.

When he's first summoned and meeting his new pack, everyone is on edge. He's small for a quint, and has a confusing blend of kit and adult behaviors. Once the infirmary ghouls have confirmed he is in fact an adult ghoul who chose of his own volition to respond to the summon, and not in fact a large kit they've accidentally abducted, everyone relaxes a bit.

At first, as they're learning about how Phantom was living for years prior to his summoning, emotions run high. They all hide it well from him, not wanting to frighten or burden him. Even so, there are many late nights in the den spent whispering and weeping as they process the things they learn of Phantom's past.

As time passes though, and Phantom settles in and gets comfier with all of them, the sadness and anger pass. They learn to interpret Phantom's unusual blend of behaviors, and they love him all the more. No one pressures Phantom to change, or tells him that he's doing something wrong. They accept him for who he is, and as long as he's not uncomfortable, embarrassed, or inadvertently harming himself, they're happy.

And oh, how they love their baby bat.

It took a while for Phantom to relax enough around anyone to purr at all, but now it's almost nonstop. Almost anything will set it off, too. Swiss walks into the same room as him? Purring. Mountain puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him still while he reaches over him for something in the kitchen? Purring. Dewdrop says good morning? Purring. When everyone gets together after a long day to cuddle in the den, Phantom's purrs stand out from the rest. He hasn't quite switched from the cooing, nasally purr of a kit into the rumbling, chest purr of an adult. He's slowly working into his chest purr, especially as he spends time cuddling on Mountain, Aether, and Swiss. Their purrs are deepest and most obviously resonating from their chests, making it easier for Phantom to imitate. Regardless of how he sounds, though, a purring Phantom is a happy Phantom is a Phantom getting many kisses.

Phantom is also working on scenting. The first person Phantom ever tried scenting was Dew, and boy was the fire ghoul confused at first. They were cuddled up on the couch, watching Cumulus teach Swiss some new crocheting techniques, when Phantom started headbutting him. To be fair, it was a gentle headbutting, really more bumping his face into Dew's jaw and nuzzling into him each time. Even so, it caught Dew off guard. Luckily, Rain was sitting on the opposite end of the couch and caught Dew's attention before he could react poorly. Dew, unlike Rain, had never really spent much time around ghoul kits, so failed to recognize Phantom's kit-like attempts at scenting. Rain mimed at him frantically until he got the memo and started scenting Phantom back. "Oh, Phantom," Rain chimed in soon after, "You're being such a lovebug for Dew. He likes gentler scenting though, sweetheart, do you want me to show you? Come here, it's my turn!" And of course, Rain instantly had a lapful of cooing, cuddly ghoul to coach, leaving Dew to roll around and be embarrassed over how in love with Phantom he is.

Phantom also kneads a lot more than most adult ghouls. While the others might do a little kneading here and there when they're feeling deeply sleepy and relaxed, Phantom seems to knead whether he's feeling calm or stressed. His most frequent victims are Cumulus, Swiss, Cirrus, and Mountain, and he kneads on whatever body part is closest. Tummies, thighs, arms, Cumulus even lets him get away with kneading on her boobs. He zones out hard when he starts kneading, almost slipping into a trance. They've all had to do a little correcting for Phantom with this behavior, just to show him how to keep his claws from hurting soft skin and to make sure he doesn't squeeze too hard. Sometimes, when he's having trouble being gentle, they'll pass him a stuffie or a pillow to work instead. He seems to knead the most during mass, Papa's chanting and the choral accompaniment relaxing him. Usually it's Mountain who will grab him when he starts getting glassy-eyed, holding him in his lap and letting him knead away at his arm.

Aether and Cirrus have spent a lot of time helping Phantom with his emotional regulation. Once he's feeling safe and secure with his new pack, that no one is going to hurt him if they notice him, he gets a bit too reactive when his emotions run high. When he messes up the same section of a song for the sixth time, he starts yelling and crying. When he slept poorly, he hisses and growls. When he trips down the last couple stairs in front of some siblings, he hides and mopes for hours, crying and skipping meals. Aether and Cirrus help him learn to identify how is body is reacting in a situation, and what emotion goes with it. They help him respond more calmly, so he doesn't hurt or frighten anyone. They teach him coping skills, like deep breathing, or leaving a room, or asking someone for a hug. It's not always easy, but Phantom is diligent and attentive, and with guidance he quickly finds techniques that work for him.

Yeah, idk. Just. I could go on and on. Phantom being a little different from what his new pack is used to and it's okay. It's not his fault. He's so full of love, and he finally gets to share it. He's so full of love, and his pack is thrilled that he shows them in his own way. Ugh. Nobody look at me.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Coach ||

Pairing: Dark!Pedri Gonzalez | You.

Description: What happens when the boy you used to ignore in middle school becomes an international footballer while you are so broke that you cannot even afford to learn football; a mutual passion, but the boy -still very much enamored by you- reconnects with you and even offers to give you private lessons? 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, Pedri is a manipulative asshole, humiliation, thigh riding, pinching, dumbification, infantilization, boob play, inspection kink, slight choking, allusions to stalking, helplessness on your part, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, overstimulation, creampie, hair pulling, biting.

Disclaimer: This story does not represent Pedro Gonzalez in any way. It contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Note: For everyone who was waiting, thank you for being patient. Ps, this is what happens when I write while I am in subspace. 

.

Today was one of those days. 

You had been at this for long enough to know it. 

Whenever Pedri walked into the ground with that one glint in his eye and with his jaw set in a certain position, you knew it. 

It had been shocking for you at first.

Hard. 

But you were used to it now.

Numb.

So you weren't even surprised when he got down to his bullshit. 

“You know, bebé” you loathed the pet name. It made you feel dumb, helpless and clueless. But that was exactly what you were. And had been. “I say we exercise more today than play” same old excuse. “This one–”

“Will increase the agility and endurance of my thighs” you completed for him, jaw stiff. 

He had already manspread on the only bench in the football ground he had rented out just for you to train and play in. Pedri's eyes were crinkled as he peeked up at you through the sun by tilting his head back and in the shade of the tree behind him to shield himself from the orange light. His arms lazily rested against the backrest. 

“Such a fast little learner, aren't you, bebé?” You wanted to smack the smirk off his face. 

You had told him not to call you the hideous name many times. But he insisted that since you were a baby to the pitch, it was the only appropriate name for you on there. 

Once when you got too agitated he proposed that if you managed to score against him, he'd stop… And obviously you were not someone who could score against FC Barcelona's Pedri. 

“Only because I have a good teacher” you resigned yourself to your fate and abandoned the ball before you walked over to where he was, lifting the too high for comfort skort that you wore before you climbed onto his sculpted thigh. This piece was one of the many he had gotten you for the free football training that he gave you. 

And you would have been grateful if it weren't for them making you look like a sports themed porn video model than someone actually learning football.

“Aw baby” you backed up a little when he booped your nose appreciatively. His sweet and ‘easy going' demeanor was the worst part. It was meant to make you feel like he was a generous friend doing you a favor for free when he could be doing many other more rewarding things with his precious time. That you being hostile in return made you look like you were the bad one. “Aren't you the sweetest little student one could have?” 

He was the absolute worst. 

“Only for you, coach” you replied as you adjusted yourself against the muscles of his thighs by rocking your hips until your covered pussy was spread. You had no choice but to be sweet and compliant. 

Or he refused to teach you. 

And football -even though it was too late for you to make a career out of it, not that you had the money or skill for even the prerequisites- was all you had in your shitty little life. 

It muted the world out for the time you were on the pitch. 

So much so that you could even endure the lewd ‘grazes’ and infuriating ‘tackles’ Pedri guised as guidance. 

“Go on, then” his strength and unexpected touch always gave you a sensory shock. So you flinched when he patted the side of your thigh. “We don't want your body to get cold now, come on. Get to it while it's still warm” you nodded as you took in a deep breath and prepared yourself.

You bit your bottom lip to withstand the shame and burst of shivers that your pussy's grazing against his strong thigh caused. Placing your hands on your laps, you looked down at him and he lazily stared back at you with a smile, the mop of his thick, dark hair sticking to his forehead in some spots due to the sweat beads that had gathered there. 

“Feels good, doesn't it, bebé?” He had taught you obedience in a truly cynical way. Good things come to good girls. 

Though Pedri was evil, he was not particularly deceitful. “Y- Yes, coach” if you just granted him his depraved wishes he was actually very benevolent. 

“Good girl, keep working those pretty legs” his rough hands now stroked and fondled your thighs that flexed everytime you dragged yourself so far up, your tender bud pressed into his hard skin before you moved your intimates down to your entrance that was already starting to tingle. “Look at how caring and nice your coach is, huh, bebé?” You nodded as you tried to keep your voice, that had betrayed you on one too many occasions, tightly locked in your throat. 

He didn't prefer to overtly pressurize or force you. At least, you didn't think so. No, Pedri liked you submitting to him despite not wanting to do so better. It got his sick shit going. 

“Tsk, tsk. Use those words now, hm?” You could feel your pussy lips squishing as each rub burnt more and more heat into your cunt. “I want to hear that pretty voice” because it will break or you will moan and he will win. 

Pedri loved to rub your nose into the helplessness of your condition. 

Just like back in middle school.

When he would follow you around and you, the beauty and brains amongst the students of the whole institution would not give him so much as a considering glance. Which would cause some of your friends to even make fun of him. 

Of course, your coach would never outwardly admit it because of both his savior complex and the petty I am the bigger person agenda that he had been pushing since day one, you just knew it.

You could literally hear the ‘not so high and mighty now, are you?’, in his voice sometimes. 

You had sped up a considerable bit into a swift and steady pace. Your lips had slackened and your mouth had fallen open. “Y- Yes, Pedri-iii–!” The upper half of your body toppled against his since you hadn't been holding anything for support. 

You hated how that was not enough for you to cease your animalistic panting as you continued to hump his thigh, your forehead now resting against Pedri's as your sports cap pushed upwards. 

“It's okay, bebé” his eyes were darker than they had been before. One of his hands caressed your ass comfortingly. “You can hold onto coach. After all, support and guidance are what teachers are for, no?” You pathetically tried to hold a semblance of your ground as you rubbed your pussy closer and closer to the kind of edge only Pedri could push you from, not that you liked to acknowledge it. 

But you only collapsed against him again after you had lifted yourself up halfway without leaning against him. Your spine trembled from the sensitivity and he chuckled, the reverberations causing for short stabbing waves of pleasure to travel up your cunt which was sopping by now. 

Taking a deep breath of defeat, you placed your smaller hands on his strong shoulders and managed to push yourself back up with ease this time. 

“See, bebé? That wasn't so hard now, was it?” Your seeping pussy hole clenched when you felt his manly fingers creep in and up the material of your skorts. “All you had to do was listen to coach like a good little girl” then his relaxed jaw tightened and a muscle ticked as he collected a pinchful of your buttcheek between his index finger and thumb before pressing them together in a punishing manner. 

That was the way he preferred; the silent way. Where he would not use words that could be remembered vividly and misinterpreted in all the ways. No. Because you see, he was not the bad guy here. So he would both express his disappointment and push his desires forth like a cruel and slithering snake. 

Silently and devastatingly.

“Y- Yes, coach!” You cried out from the pain and the pleasure it caused by flipping your stomach into a puddle of fiery wantonness that travelled right down to your pussy before spreading over your folds. 

“Such a good girl” you were getting close, which meant you were about to get a whole lot more stupid than you already were. “Come here and show your coach some appreciation” his free hand -the one that wasn't groping your ass- wrapped around your neck before he pulled you down and hoisted himself up with ease to press his lips against yours. 

“Thank you so much, coach. You're so patient and kind with me” you parroted out the words you had been taught through cruel blackmailing. Your voice was humiliating in how it broke and you gasped and moaned through your words, the effort you put into suppressing it all only making you sound like you were on the verge of tears with need. 

“Don't sell yourself short, bebé, you're not exactly a bad student either” he let go of your throat to retreat his hand by dragging it down your chest and letting it linger and move over your covered boobs. “We haven't done an inspection in some time, have we, bebé?” He had been rather busy lately, so no. 

Your heart fell but your pussy fired up even more. “N- No, coach” you kept using the honourific because you knew he liked it when you did. 

Pedri had an inspection segment in your training. Where he would check and measure the quality of your health and wellbeing every few sessions. 

That required you stripping down to nothing and tying your hair on the top of your head and out of his way. Then he would make you stand with your body spread out in a star position before he would examine, touch and grope every bump, surface and crevice of your body to make sure nothing was wrong. He would squeeze you in places and asked you how much it hurt on a scale of one to ten to check for muscle damage. Next you would have to touch your toes while spreading your legs wide. Pedri would part your ass cheeks and ask you to cough. If you tried questioning it, you were told that athelete hygiene and wellbeing was complex and he was the professional, which was basically a shut the fuck up call. The threatening edge of his tone also quietened you before you could build up more courage. Then you would have to prop your back against the bench and hold your legs apart and out of his way in that your buckled knees had to touch your shoulders. All you had to do was to focus on his dark hair as he peeled open your pussy lips and examined you there. After that you were to ‘air’ yourself out because he said it was good for your skin after all the sweating. That was to be done while increasing the durability of your muscles. So you would be placed in the middle of the field -the point where the wind was the strongest- with your head earth cast and limbs spread out while you held yourself up on all fours. On warm days Pedri would even generously pour water all over your kneeling form to make you feel fresh. 

Because he was a caring coach. 

Whether you had ever been teased for leaking while he went about that business, if you ever came from being pulled apart so intimately, and if the aforementioned things had happened, the number of times they happened, you were not willing to disclose to anyone. 

Perhaps not even your own self. 

“Let's just air out today” he decided as he glanced at the pinking sun. Evenings were what you two could mutually manage so that's when you did this. And it would be dark soon so you didn't have a lot of time left. You felt like screaming at him. It wouldn't be him if he ever spoke straight.

Always with the twisting and manipulating. 

“Yes, coach~” you moaned out as you whimpered from how Pedri was moving you up and down his thigh with the help of his firm grip on your ass. You took one of your hands off his shoulder to fiddle with your skimpy sports bra before you gave up somehow getting rid of it and instead pulled it down to bring your tits spilling out towards the male's face. The tightness of the bra’s neckline only made them push upwards more, the movement of your cunt fucking against his lap making them jiggle. 

“May I inspect them, bebé?” It was a bloody insult to injury. He always asked shit like this like you had a choice. 

And yet the rage added to the tightness in your hips. 

You were on the brink.

“O- Of course, coa– coach!” You hadn't noticed just how sensitive they had become until he reached for one of your hardened nipples and your back arched from the sting it caused. 

“Not to be unprofessional, bebé, but you are truly the prettiest girl I've ever seen” you reckoned this compliment coming from an international football star, especially a male one, would send any girl over the moon. You were no exception. If only said football star hadn't been the middle school loser you used to ignore and now had to submit to like this only because he made accessible for you the one thing that helped you to keep going.  

All it took for your pathetic self to cum the daylights out of itself was for him to circle the shape of your hard nipples and squeeze your other breast before he pressed a wet kiss to each of your nubs. 

Your ears went numb and the all too familiar feeling of sweet and hot spilling of your loins exploded between your hips. You threw your head back and moaned his name out loud while you rode out your high. 

Since your heart was in your ears and you became physically incapable of fathoming anything other than the pleasure burning your body up and threatening to well out of all your openings -and out of one of them it actually did- you didn't notice him chuckling at you until after your high had subsided. 

You tilted your head to the side before you furrowed your eyebrows to express your confusion. 

“Such a naughty little girl you are, bebé” if it weren't for your post-orgam sensitivity, your jaw would have ticked. But you were panting too much to do anything than to sit on his lap soiled by your own cum and staring at him dumbly. “All I had meant to do was to work up your pretty little legs but you being you just had to be the messy little baby that you are” you felt a glaze of tears well up in your eyes. 

In-fucking-sufferable. 

“Okay, we don't have long now, come on” he switched back into his professional voice and patted your covered up messy pussy with the back of his fingers. “Show me some of the dribbling I taught you in the last session and we will call it a day” you wanted to cry out loud.

This was a downwards spiral of the most depraved sort. 

“Yes, coach” he tried his best to hide his devilish grin but you knew what was about to happen; where this command was gonna take you. 

You gingerly climbed off of Pedri and adjusted your skirt like he didn't know every centimeter of your body already, blinking your eyes to keep your vision from spinning and trying to tough the shaking of your legs out. 

That was how his making you cum always left you. 

“Leave those like that” he referred to your tits when you tried to adjust your bra while bringing the ball closer to him. “We haven't done inspection in a while so we will compensate how we can” yeah right. 

“Yes, coach” you obediently responded before you took a stabilizing breath and focused on the ball before you got to it. 

And exactly as you had expected, your weakened legs buckled and your body tumbled before your ass hit the ground with a thump. Your heart rate picked up again as you nervously scrambled yourself up. You could feel the intensity of his dark stare and it was making you admittedly nervous. Oh, no. Yet your pussy curled at the thought of him getting pissed because of you. Fuck. You gulped and set the ball before you started again but it slipped from under your foot and you nearly hit the ground face first. Pedri didn't say anything, he only spoke out of necessity. Your bottom lip wobbled as you adjusted the brim of your cap and recentered the ball. Under usual circumstances, Pedri would have given you some guidance or reassurance by now. He actually did teach you good football on days when he wasn't possessed by Incubus himself. You started again and thought it would be different this time, that you had got it, and that it would be soon over now like he had promised. 

But you never seemed to learn that hope was a foolish thing. 

Your thighs trembled and the muscles inside them twitched. Before you could even register what was going on, you had landed in front of Pedri's feet on your hands and knees. A stifled sob left you. 

He sighed. “I wonder why your endurance hasn't increased even a little from when we did this the last time” which was 2 months ago. “The exercise I recommended for it was sure to work…” Your head further lowered in shame like you were in the wrong. 

“That's ‘cause I haven't been doing it, coach” your cheeks and eyes burnt alike in humiliation. Thick drops of hot tears thumped on the grass in front of you. 

“Oh, really? Why not?” He feigned innocence like he didn't know that you hadn't been doing it.

You remained at his feet because you knew that's how he liked you to be, deep down. And you didn't feel like disappointing him even more than you probably already had. 

“J- Just…” You did not even dare to let your mind wander to how he even knew that you hadn't been doing. “Just…” You chose ignorance. It was bliss. Life was hard enough and you could not afford this right now. 

Pedri sighed as if he was actually unhappy about what was about to happen. “You know what has to happen now, don't you?” You nodded, utterly defeated as you slowly rose to your wobbly feet and began to trudge yourself to the middle of the field, relieving yourself of your clothing as you went by, taking off and dropping each article behind you while you walked. 

You collapsed on your knees in the middle of the field and propped yourself ass up on your hands and knees, widening your legs for him to see and access your cunt better. 

“You know I hate to do this but you just have to forget things like the silly little baby that you are, don't you?” You feel his knees touch against yours as he kneels behind you. One of his rough hands grab you by the hip to keep you in place whilst the other holds his rock hard cock over the smooth surface of your ass. 

“Y- Yes, coach. I am sorry–” your voice disappears when he suddenly taps his leaking tip against your pucker and you nearly have a panic attack. Though you don't hear it you feel his body vibrate behind you and you know he's laughing at you, your panic, your helplessness, your humiliation. “... C- Coach” you finish breathlessly when he prods your wrinkled up pucker with his tip but then drags it down the dent and between the hot cavern past your pussy lips. 

“Well, you know what I say,” the fat apex of his thick cock glides a little before it finds an opening and pushes itself between your folds to kiss your pussy hole that blinks in response. “A good girl's one who owns her mistakes.”

“Yes, coach– hnnng!” Your back arches when he enters you with a jerk, the mess you made in your panties couples with the precum coating his tip aiding the penetration. 

The task that had landed you in this situation was that every night before bed you were to get in this same position that you were in right now and stay like that for some 15 minutes before you were to rub -and strictly only rub- your pussy -because Pedri insisted that it was just as much a muscle as any other in your body- until you were so close you felt the initial heat of your orgasm before stopping. Then you were to continue being in the same position with your head lowered to watch how your legs were doing for another 15. 

This was to build the endurance levels of all your muscles as well as develop in you a restraint and discipline all football players were required to have. 

Usually he made the edging worth your while soon after but as mentioned before, he had been busy and so you were left with nothing but the frustration. 

So you had stopped. 

As to why you couldn't just let yourself go and cum by yourself, it was because you were incapable of doing so. 

Unless he was actually there with you, your body would either refuse itself orgasms or ruin them for you. 

Only Pedri could make them make sense.

“Tell me, bebé,” his mask only slipped when you were like this. He would say things and touch you in ways that betrayed his little charade. “Did you purposefully disobey coach like a bad little baby because you like him breaking in your beautiful muscles?” Yes, that is what he had termed this.  

Breaking in of your muscles.

And you.

Your sensitive pussy was being overworked as the burn of overstimulation overwhelmed you with each resounding thrust. Pedri had found a pace and the upper half of your body had collapsed against your folded arms. Your cheek rubbed against it with each thrust as you involuntarily moaned out loud, watching the stretch of the field aimlessly. 

Pedri snorts as he breathes heavily, snapping his hips harder and harder as he continues to fuck deeper and deeper into you. “I always forget that your brain is also a muscle so it breaks each time I've to help you out like this” you can only croak in response as you feel another orgasm building. He tries to get your attention attention again but you can only let out wanton moans and grunts. “Hey!” And so it comes; his hand cutting through the air before it loudly cracks against your ass. 

“Huh!” You snap out of the haze of your euphoria only to jump again because another one lands on your other cheek. You were barely even following him so you squeak out, “Yes, coach! You're right, coach!” He chuckles. 

“The sweetest little thing, aren't you, bebé?” Just then his cock hits you where you are sensitive while he lands a spank on your pucker at the same time and you cry out, toppling over the edge as your vision declines and hearing follows its suit. 

Your body shakes with spasms as you clutch the grass to withstand the pounding he's giving to your g-spot. It is too much for you when his hot cum begins to fill you up and the air fills with the lewd sound of his cock slopping in and out of you while specks go flying all about. 

“Come here” he growls as he pulls you back up against his chest by your hair so you bounce upwards with each thrust he gives you while he fucks his high up your sensitive womb. Pedri wraps his arm around your neck so you're in a headlock and his lips and teeth attack the side of your face that is in his reach. He kisses, he licks, he sucks and he bites to withstand the pleasure that his cock feels in the hot enclosure of your tight little cunt. 

Pedri even slips his fingers between your legs to rub your folds only to make you cry out just a bit louder.

It takes you both a bit to fully calm down but when he pulls you off his cock with a loud and humiliating squelch before putting your nude form against the ground to fix himself before sitting down beside you and gently pulling you into his lap to calm you down, he sweetly rubs your muscles as you weakly rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Here” he picks up something from beside him before handing you it and you cannot help but tear up. 

You had lost one of your air pods a week ago and hadn't been able to afford a fix or substitute. How he knew this, as you hadn't seen him in a while, was beyond you. But as you saw the brand new boxed up set, hot tears spilled down your cheeks and you only shook your head in a you didn't have to fashion since you were too messed up for words. 

You threw your arms around him in the way he liked and kissed his cheek as you let your breasts press into his chest. He just chuckled and patted your head like a father would his child's. You bit back your sob as you let yourself surrender. 

It wasn't because you were touched that you were crying, no. 

It was because you knew. 

This was the peak of his craft. 

He had begun reeling you in already so he could destroy you again whenever he pleased later. 

Building you up to break you pretty for himself. 

And then reassemble you in the fashion of his preference only for the same cycle to continue. 

Maybe he was right. You were pathetic and you liked this more than you would ever admit.

After all, you came everytime and anytime he wanted you to… didn't you?

[alacants]

if you saw the full video of carlos alcaraz and his team watching rafa's retirement announcement, perhaps you noticed that his coach seemed, dare i say it, reluctant to join in. if you follow juanki and/or jcf academy on social perhaps you noticed that amidst effusive tributes from across the spanish tennis establishment both were conspicuously silent. why the seeming reticence from one spanish great to the spanish great? well. WELL.

juanki, rafa, and the case of the green-eyed monster

("but user alacants, in creating this post aren't you ignoring the vagaries of human nature in favor of imposing a narrowly crafted narrative onto a twenty-year relationship that is probably both more complex and less contentious than you make it out to be?"

of course i am. what are you, new?)

davis cup 2004

prior to 2004 juanki was Mr Davis Cup. he often cites the 2000 cup (where his win decided the tie) as the most meaningful title of his career, more so than roland garros. then 2004 rolls around, spain makes their third final in 5 years… and the day before the tie begins juanki is dropped from the lineup in favor of some 18 year old who's never even played a match at roland garros. (<- actually. isn't that crazy??)

"obviously i am not jumping up and down with happiness." and to be fair to him everyone else sounded baffled as well. and then… the 18 year old had the nerve to play andy roddick in front of a record-breaking 27k home crowd and win.

to twist the knife: at the last minute juanki got named to the doubles match alongside tommy robredo and they got CRUSHED, just absolutely destroyed, by the bryan brothers. held serve once in three sets. 

so it is maybe not a surprise that afterwards juanki does not exactly look happy despite nominally winning a major trophy.

it's noticeable enough to make the news. rafa is forced to tell the press nooooo, it's not true that they don't get along. juanki then goes on the record to say that on the trip back from sevilla the captains were only paying attention to nadal and moya, the winners, and ignoring him and tommy, the losers. while this may be true there is no way to make it sound good that you're saying it, yk.

(if you click through you will see that in the same interview he describes himself and rafa as "good friends." rafa goes on to describe them as friends on several more occasions! juanki does not.)

three months later, spain went out in the first round of the 2005 cup, 4-1 to slovakia. juan carlos was not part of the team lmao. and indeed a qualification play-off in september would be his last taste of davis cup action for several years. (that last call-up was ferru's first btw. red string of fate. SORRYYYY I KNOW IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM.)

roland garros 2005

unfortunately if you're juanki it did not get better. here he is in 2005 "[accusing] spanish media of a nadal obsession." (that link will also give you a taste of the contemporary fan discourse lmao.) he was baited, but also, they baited him because they knew he'd rise to the occasion.

rafa nadal btw had just played his first roland garros, which he won. juanki at rg: "unlike the media-designated extraterrestrials i'm just a HUMBLE PLAYER trying to win matches. i'm not one of the favorites but maybe if i keep trying…" he was then forced to deny he was jealous.

(this was shortly after rafa beat him for the title in barcelona, resulting in this cheerful take: "when you're on a high like nadal is everything seems to go right - but it doesn't last forever.")

rafa, meanwhile, is not helping:

QUESTION: Other than Carlos Moya, were there any other Spanish players you grew up watching, admiring? Did you follow Juan Carlos at all when you were growing up? RAFAEL NADAL: No, my favorite was Moya.

rome 2008

the hits continue. by 2008 rafa nadal is THE spanish tennis man, he's the guy everyone thought juanki was going to be. (ouch.) and now they are about to meet in rome. rafa btw has been undefeated on clay since the famous federer hamburg final, for an overall record of 117-4 since 2005. he's never lost in rome.

so imagine the reaction when juanki actually wins.

—wait did you think it was something like "ferrero shocks king of clay in tantalizing return to form." lol of course it's not, it's "nadal suffers freak loss due to blisters." harsh? rafa didn't think so: "i congratulate juan carlos, but today for sure was not my best tennis."

never mind that juanki was also playing through injury, bad enough that it took him out of barcelona then functionally killed his roland garros. (safe to assume that after 2004 he's more or less always injured.) this is typical sports media syndrome, nothing new or particularly unexpected. but once again: juanki is not, like, shy about expressing his thoughts.

QUESTION: The fact that Rafa was injured - he complained about the foot injury at the press conference here - what does that take away from your win? Do you feel it takes a little bit of shine away from your win? JUAN CARLOS FERRERO: [...] When you go to the court and you decide to play, I think the injury is not reason to say yes or no… You know, at the end I play a little bit better than him. I don't know if it was big reason to don't play at his best level, the injury. QUESTION: How much do you think this loss and the injury is going to affect Nadal's preparation for Roland Garros? JUAN CARLOS FERRERO: I don't know. Maybe you have to ask him. 

fortunately (???) this match was immediately followed by an explosive spanish tennis row that ended with top players including juanki and rafa joining hands in solidarity to push the president of rfet out of his job, so this did not become the topic it might have otherwise. 

davis cup 2009

it's now 2009. juanki hasn't played a davis cup tie since 2005. he's just dropped out of the top 100. and then… rafa and ferru get injured. juanki gets a dc call-up. he heroically saves the qf tie! he wins his sf rubber! his teammates are tossing him in the air, the crowds are chanting his name! he doesn't make the final roster bc everyone is healthy but he's a reserve, he's there with the team. they sweep the tie, the heroes are undisputedly his special friend ferru (epic comeback) + verdasco/lopez (deciding win over undefeated opponents). …and then they go for the obligatory meeting with the prime minister who's like, RAFA YOU WON THE DAVIS CUP FOR US THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH WE LOVE YOU.

a lot of people were unhappy about this, presumably (??) including actual rafa. afterwards, juanki says, "most of the team thought it was disrespectful." one wonders who was not included in "most."

(honestly? probably feli lopez.)

valencia 2013

speaking of actual rafa, did he notice and/or care about anything of this? i mean he definitely noticed. but i assume he didn't care. (rafa experts are welcome to chime in here.) after all, a couple years later rafa spoke at juanki's retirement ceremony. there was a hug and everything!

so like, ok, they are cordial, they are friendly, rafa's place is cemented in history and juanki is retired anyway. THEN less than a year later rafa pulls out of juanki's beloved valencia open to enter a different more lucrative tournament instead and he is fully dead to juanki who is calling him out in the press like, i think it's his DUTY as a SPANIARD to support a spanish tournament.

which event did he choose instead, btw? Roger Federer's Basel™. which he hadn't played since 2004. and then he ended up withdrawing anyway. there was some conspiracy theory type thinking at the time that he only committed to basel so he had an excuse not to play valencia (well that and the $$$) which is almost certainly untrue but is also very funny.

meanwhile juanki sooort of backpedaled like i mean we don't understand his decision but we respect it… sure, juanki.

late-career detente (?)

juanki has since repeatedly gone on the record noting 1. the only player he ever felt inferior to was roger federer 2. who btw is the best player of all time. these are not neutral statements coming from a spaniard and no one is taking them that way.

now having said that, he has also had plenty of nice or at least diplomatic things to say in recent years about rafa's will to compete, etc. "i wouldn't like him to get [to roland garros] and not win matches." while also dropping gems such as:

q: which of the big three was the hardest to play and why? juanki: federer. but i'm just glad i managed to beat all three of them before i retired. :)

with all of this in mind, the aforementioned video of carlos and team watching rafa's message. is. so. funny. JUAN CARLOS GROW UPPPP. like presumably the academy at least will say something once the big moment rolls around but when literally every other spanish tennis player under the sun is posting their glowing tributes and you are Haughtily Silent it's so obvious!! son!!!

additionally: this makes juanki spending the olympics at home so fucking funny. yeah, i bet you DIDN'T want to watch your special friend and your beloved protege coo over rafael nadal for two weeks. like in the year 2024 there's no way it's that serious, nothing more than "my annoying ex-coworker i still have to be polite to." just, they're not friends. and ferru and rafa (and now carlos) are. and it's very funny to me personally.

in conclusion: "rafa largely to blame for ferrero's downfall" (espn, 2012)

[alcqraz]

★ summary — small little drabble of spending a lazy morning with ben

˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: ben shelton x fem!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 922.... ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff.

★ authors note: for wes because her horny ass would not let me off the hook until i finished this. shout out to the tennis groupchat that i'm in that helped me out because they're all clinically insane about ben.

❛⠀⠀ requested by anon! idk who to tag

I feel like Ben would be the type of person who enjoys sleeping in. Not all the time, obviously, definitely not during tournaments, or the days leading up to tournaments- but those days where he can have you to himself, without the worry of his coach or team barging in at any given moment. Without the worry of the upcoming match, and the result that would unfold within in.

You'd wake up next to him, the little crack from the curtain that he forgot to close entirely assaulting your vision as the sun rises from the hills above. Grumbling to yourself of your boyfriends inability to close the curtains fully, because of course he wouldn't.

Ben, however, seems not to be disrupted from his slumber by the aggravating light that danced across the warm-lit room. He's off somewhere in la-la land, sleeping on his stomach, shirt discarded carelessly upon the floor. His head is tilted to the right- looking towards you, and for once he looks... peaceful. His eyes are fluttered shut, a soft smile or sorts stretched upon his lips.

Despite it being (technically) his fault as to why you were unable to fully sleep in, you can't help but to admire the view that had been placed in front of you. He always looked good, you were very much aware of that, but now- he looked cuter, adorable even. However, you were not to suffer alone at this time of morning. If you were awake, he damn sure as well should be too.

Slowly creeping upon him, your hands gently trace amongst the muscles that lined his toned back. Fingers caressing the warm skin from being under the covers for so long. He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible as the movement slowly jolts him awake, like soft waves rippling throughout a greater vast of ocean.

It takes a moment, Ben ostensibly slower and unhurried during the mornings where he had no actual duties to worry of. His eyes flutter open, dark eyes adjusting to the new found lighting of the luminous morning. His eyes are hazed with a sense of blur, mind confused for a beat of a second as he blinks slowly, pushing away the daze of being woken up.

You'd whisper to him- perhaps a good morning, or a soft hello that he loved to hear more than anything, your voice a seeking comfort he enjoyed having within his presence. It's only then does he recall the situation, that he finally, finally gets to fall asleep and wake up next to you. His lips curl into a stupid grin, eyes wrinkling as he does so. He's suddenly wide awake, or at least, more coherent than he was an instance ago.

He'd mumble a good morning, baby as he always did. Pivoting himself onto his back so he can get a better look of you, features tainted with a look that could only be described as pure affection. His fingers come up to brush against the side of your face, before laying upon the soft skin that laced your jaw. Ben pulls you in, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips, before leaning in for something more. He kisses all over, as he always did when he could have you all alone. Your lips, your forehead, the spot within your neck that made you squirm. He wanted you all, and he was going to have you.

But it wasn't how it would be of the many times before. Where the desire pooled in his lower stomach, reaching between his pants. It was not rushed nor full of lust, it was not a race for the finish line, but a need to worship you because fuck, how did he ever get so lucky?

His hands would trail all over, wherever he could get you, kissing you slowly whilst his fingers tangle into your hair, another resting upon your waist. It's deliberate and languid, breathing softly when he finally pulls away for a breath of air. Ben doesn't pull far away though, his lips just barely an inch away from yours. And god, he feels as if the wind has been knocked out of his lungs, the sight of you so beautiful and intoxicating. You're like a drug, an addicting one for that fact which he could never get over. He never wanted to get over.

He gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, eyes glazy as if he were looking at the center of the universe. Perhaps, you were his universe. He'd murmur, hushed words that were only for you, ones that no one else would ever get to know. Unable to leave his touch, you lean in once again, sensually yet delicately.

On the days like these, he finds it inexplicably hard to keep his hands off of you. Needing to keep you close, touching you at least in some sort of way. You'd tease him about it, of course, as anyone would, but in all honesty, it was nice to feel so wanted by someone.

And wanted, you were. Ben had it in him, knew all the ways he could make you feel like the only woman in the world, even during the most random of situations. He'd whisper to you, lips tracing just over your ear lobe, hair tickling across the sector of your face of how lucky he was to have you.

You can't help but to think that at the end of the day; you were the lucky one all along.

[shaunamilfman]

the ghost you dressed up as [7]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x r summary: "Things may have gotten a little out of control. Time to deal with a few loose ends." note: GRAPHIC depictions of violence. I'm backkkkkkkk masterlist

You really hadn't intended for things to go as far as they did. It hadn't even been a thought in your mind when you made that snarky little comment about Travis, but before you knew it, the whole school was repeating it. The words had been twisted, exaggerated, and shared through so many mouths that they barely resembled what you'd initially said, but they were undeniably your words. 

Mari was definitely to blame for a lot of it–she was always the first to start gossiping, to spread a rumor. You should have known she'd spread that little piece of information all over the school by the end of the next day, but you hadn't been thinking clearly. It was almost impressive the way she stirred the pot just to watch it boil over. You'd handed the ammunition right to her. You shouldn't be surprised at what she's done with it. 

It was a knee-jerk response, an irritated quip in response to his stupid little comment. Yet, in just two weeks, he's effectively taken your place as the school pariah. Not that he's seemed to notice much, in all honesty. He walks around with that same broody expression he always does, sneering at all the same people. Maybe he didn't care, in truth. It finally gave some credence to the way he walked around the school like nobody understood him. He finally got that isolation he'd obviously been so desperate for. 

You wouldn't wish that on anyone, but he's certainly one of the people that you wouldn't go out of your way to stand up for. You wouldn't say he deserved it, no one did, but you certainly weren't losing sleep over it. You've had more than your fair share of unfortunate run-ins with him while he waited for Coach Martinez to be done with practice. 

Then there was Jackie. Your wonderful, conniving girlfriend who jumped on the chance to turn the blame away from you. Shauna was a driving factor in it, but you suspect her involvement has as much to do with protecting you as it does with making Travis pay for insinuating only a man could be the killer. As the one who'd done the majority of the kills, she'd taken personal offense to that comment. So now Travis would have to as well. 

You're sure it had started with Shauna simply losing her temper, but Jackie had turned it into something devious. They'd made sure to be overheard talking just a little too loudly about it while waiting for you to get out of class. Everyone knew Shauna tended to stay out of gossip if she could, which didn't bode well for Travis. If even Shauna Shipman was saying something–if she was getting involved in it–then it had to be true, right? 

Poor Travis had no idea what was coming for him until it was too late. 

You can't find it in yourself to be too concerned about him, especially as Shauna starts to climb over the center console into the backseat with you. The car rocks back with her movements, nearly causing her to face-plant into the floorboards before she manages an ungraceful crash onto your lap instead. 

Shauna glares at you, half sprawled across your lap, as you can't help but laugh. She mutters curses under her breath until she fully settles onto your lap. 

“Shut up,” She mutters, her usual venom softened by the faint blush on her cheeks and the way her hair falls messily around her face. Her eyes burn with the slightest hint of embarrassment, softening slightly as you reach forward to brush the hair out of her face. 

“You good, Shauna?” You tease, resting a hand on the small of her back to keep her from leaving. Sure enough, she almost immediately starts to pull away as the words hit her ears. She rolls her eyes, another irritated huff leaving her lips. 

“Do I look good?“ She snaps, but there's no real heat behind it. Especially as she makes no move to try to leave your lap again, how she makes no move to brush your hand away. She stays in place, her head tilting slightly as she weighs the benefits of allowing you to keep her like this. 

Shauna's all embarrassed. You grin. The sharp edge of her glare starts to lessen as she watches you. 

“You always look good.” 

Shauna opens her mouth before promptly closing it, clearing her throat slightly as she looks out the window over your shoulder instead of replying. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that this is the same girl who gutted several teenagers when she acts like this–soft, almost unsure of herself. 

You love when she gets all shy when it's just the two of you. You're sure she probably does the same thing with Jackie, but you don't often get to catch Shauna alone. Waiting in the car for Jackie to finally finish getting ready makes up a lot of those times. 

She's just Shauna, staring out the window at a loss for how to respond to something as simple as a compliment. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asks finally. 

You shrug playfully. “You.” 

Shauna looks pleased at the answer but quickly shakes her head. “Before, I mean. You were thinking too hard.” The way she says it almost makes it sound like an accusation. Her fingers trail down your arm, stopping by your hand as her thumb strokes across your wrist. It was one of her favorite places to touch you, to feel the fluttering of your pulse just beneath the skin.

You're guilty of something in her eyes, but you can't help but enjoy her intensity. You almost want to laugh–Shauna Shipman, accusing you of thinking too much? Now you've seen everything. She’s so intense as she looks at you, as if she’s trying to read the answer off your face before you even attempt to answer her.

“Was I?” You definitely were, not that you'd admit it. Your mind was racing thinking about everything going on, everything you were going to do tonight. Everything had been happening so quickly lately, and it was a struggle for you to keep it all straight in your head. You wonder if Jackie or Shauna ever had that problem, but you quickly shake the thought off. Shauna wouldn’t care enough to dwell on it, and Jackie wouldn’t think to.

“Maybe I was just wondering when you were finally going to get around to kissing me,” You add.

She watches you for a moment, like she’s debating making you wait. You note the surprised twitch of her lip, the way her eyes flicker down to your lips before she forces them away. There’s something about the way she pretends that it hadn’t been her intention the whole time that makes you feel unspeakably fond of her. Shauna can try to hide it behind jealous accusations, but you know what she really wants. She just wants to watch you squirm first.

“You're lucky Jackie's taking so long.” Her voice is dry, almost amused, but she shifts enough in your lap that it gives her intention away long before she leans in. Shauna’s lips ghost against yours, her warm breath brushing against your skin, before her lips finally meet yours. The kiss is firm, as grounding as always. Her hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place while simultaneously daring you to look at anyone else besides her, to think of anything besides the way her fingers curl into your skin. She digs her nails in–not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel the claim she’s leaving.

There’s a surety to her in moments like this that doesn’t often surface in other facets of her life. A calmness so unlike her usual intensity that it’s almost a little jarring to look at. Jackie hadn’t seemed all that different from who she presented as and who she was when you first befriended her–what you saw was what you got–but Shauna was something else entirely. A puzzle that she didn’t want solved. You live for those moments when that all-consuming fire within her is just warming to the touch instead of burning, letting you get close enough to really look at her.

She’d hate it if she realized you noticed. It’s a secret that you have to keep, only ever spoken in soft voices when you and Jackie are sure she won’t be able to hear. 

Her thumb strokes a spot behind the back of your ear that you hadn’t realized was sensitive until this very moment, and you can’t help but shiver under the touch. The corner of her mouth twitches up as she pulls away, a hint of a smirk replacing her desire as she revels in the effect she’s having on you. It’s maddening, the way she always seems to know just what to do with you. You want to respond, maybe to say something smart in return, but she leaves no thoughts for anything in your brain besides her. It makes you feel so dumb–she always does–but she certainly doesn’t mind.

“Yeah,” Shauna murmurs. “Not thinking about Jackie anymore, are you?”

Was that what she thought you were doing? Poor Shauna, convinced you were daydreaming about Jackie in the backseat of her car. You’re charmed by the thought of her climbing all the way back here just to reclaim your attention. As if she wasn’t sitting up there in the front seat, presumably complaining about the two of you in her little journal in the first place.

“Who’s Jackie?” You ask, almost too innocent. Just enough to tease.

She breathes out a laugh, resting her head against your shoulder to hide her smile before pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. “Cute,” She whispers, barely audible. Shauna lingers there, breath hot against your skin as her hand slides up the back of your neck to fist in your hair as she tugs your head back to look at her. “Say her name again.”

“Jackie,” You say slowly, in that same breathy tone you’d use to encourage her.

Shauna scoffs, tugging at your hair in reproach, but you don’t miss the way she shifts against you as it leaves your lips. She tips her head, her nose brushing against your jaw before her lips start trailing a path down your neck. It’s gentle at first, small little kisses that soon turn into nips, leaving a trail that feels like a brand across your skin. She tilts your head back however she pleases, silently urging you this way or that with a burst of pain. Her other hand slides up your chest to rest against your heart, fingers splayed out possessively as if to claim it for herself.

She nips at a spot just above your collarbone, soothing it with her tongue for a moment before biting down even harder. Shauna squeezes your legs tightly with hers as you try to jerk away, using every bit of her leverage to hold you back against that seat.

“Again?” Shauna asks, but the hint of anticipation in her voice betrays her intentions. She wants it so bad. Wants you to give her a reason to do this, just so she has a reason to sink her teeth in a little deeper, to hold you tight enough to border on bruising.

“Jackie–”

A knock on the window interrupts you, the two of you almost jumping as both look over to see Jackie leaning down against the car, one hand braced beside the window as she gives you a little wave with the other. Shauna immediately starts to pull away, climbing back over into the driver's seat as she unlocks Jackie’s door for her. 

Jackie climbs in the car with a wide grin, clearly enjoying the leftover tension as the two of you try not to even look in the other’s direction. She almost kneels in the passenger seat as she leans over to give you a kiss, pouting until you finally lean forward to close the distance. After a moment she pulls away, brushing a stray hair out of your face before she turns around in her seat. Shauna looks over at her expectantly, and Jackie just shrugs.

“Oh, did you want one too, Jackie?” Jackie teases. Shauna goes bright red, turning the key in the engine and starting the car just so she can pretend nothing happened. Jackie goes scrambling for her seat belt, knowing better than anyone that Shauna was about to peel out of here.

…

You sigh as Jackie's lips brush your jaw teasingly, her fingers ghosting over a small mark Shauna's left on your collarbone. You already knew you'd probably end up with a matching mark before the night ended, neither of them completely able to treat marking you as anything other than a competition. 

It's not like it's a game you don't enjoy playing–the way Shauna had looked at you when you left a mark on Jackie's thigh on top of hers had featured front and center in your mind for days. That dark, simmering anger–along with a begrudging respect–was enough to tempt you to provoke her a hundred more times. 

But you don't have time to think about that right now. 

You don't really have time to indulge Jackie either, but you'll make do with what you have. Still, as excited and raised voices sound from downstairs, even Jackie starts to pull away. You can just barely make out the sounds of garbled voices through the floorboards. 

“Coach Martinez… dead…” 

A flicker of a grin passes across Jackie's face, eyes widening with a delight she can't quite contain. 

“... head on a soccer ball…” 

She grabs your wrist tightly–whether to ground you or herself, you aren't sure. She squeezes tightly in her excitement, her breathing speeding up as she lets herself get absorbed in the moment. 

“…let's go before…” 

You barely have time to adjust before Jackie leaves your lap, pressing her ear up against the door to try to make out more of the conversation. 

You look over at Jackie with wide eyes at the sound of pounding footsteps and then the door slamming closed behind them. Instead of reflecting your shock, Jackie just looks intrigued and a little flustered. 

Freak, you think fondly. 

Jackie grins over at you in the cramped closet you're hiding out in, reaching over to grab your mask and slip it over your head. Her fingers linger along your jaw much longer than strictly necessarily. She adjusts it with care, straightening it out till it sits just perfectly before pulling away. You don't have the heart to point out how quickly it'll get messed up when you get down to business tonight. 

She slowly opens the door, keeping to a crouch as she peeks her head around to look down from the top of the stairs. 

“They're all gone,” She confirms, giving you a thumbs up. The silence of the house seems louder than ever now that the two of you are mostly alone. 

Shauna's idea of a distraction had worked wonders, you had to hand it to her. The second it had reached the ears of Jeff's little party, the last of his friends had cleared out to go see the carnage before the police could get it all cleaned up. Just like Shauna said it would. She was probably almost here by now with how long the news presumably took to reach them, but Jeff was left up to you and Jackie to kill. Shauna was mostly the getaway driver in this one. 

Jeff was alone up in his house now, having passed out on the couch at least an hour ago from your estimate. You weren't quite sure, but that was about when his obnoxiously loud voice stopped echoing up the stairs. It was a little disappointing after everything to have it be this easy to kill him. He was asleep on the couch, mouth slack and probably drooling. He wouldn't even be able to put up a fight, completely oblivious to everything the three of you had planned for him. 

Shauna would've found a way to wake him, you knew. Would've knocked a lamp off of a side table just to get his attention or bumped into a chair just to make the leg screech against the wood flooring. The hunt was so much better than the act itself, at least as far as Shauna's concerned. 

Jackie would've too, but that's not surprising: they tend to be more similar than they are different. She likes to taunt them, likes to beat them to all the exits, and watch as the hope leaves their eyes. It's an almost playful cruelty to it all, a slight hint of a smile tugging at her lips while her eyes shine with malice. 

Aren't they dreamy? 

You had no qualms about killing Jeff in his sleep. Anything to get it over with, to get back home for the celebration. The way they practically fell over themselves to get you into bed after was your favorite part. They're always their most violent right after a kill, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't love that predatory gleam in their eyes as they backed you up against the nearest surface. You're simple like that. 

Jackie's hand brushes across your knuckles, quickly drawing your attention back to the moment. Back to her. You know her well enough to catch the look of disappointment on her face, one that you're quick to mirror behind your mask. You know what she's thinking as she glances back out of the closet door without her even needing to say anything. 

“Jackie-” You start. 

“Please,” She draws out, lingering on the e long enough that you start to get irritated. She squeezes your hand imploringly, her thumb gently caressing your skin. God, you hate when she does that. 

“Jackie, no.” You shake your head in an almost pitiful attempt at being firm, but even you can hear the way your voice wavers. It was just so hard to tell either of them no. Usually Jackie would jump on the weakness you've so obviously presented her, but this time is different. Jackie seems to feel bad enough, pity maybe, that she relents. 

“Fine,” She mutters with a sigh, not looking at all happy about it. Almost like a child that's just been denied a cookie before dinner. Jackie tilts her head in contemplation, and you can almost see the gears turning in her head. That rarely spells good news for you outside of a soccer field. It means she's found a loophole, or a small chink in the armor she can exploit. 

“Jackie…” You warn, but you can already feel your resolve cracking.

“I'll be right back. Don't worry, you've got this!” Jackie plants a quick kiss on the cheek side of your head through the fabric before starting to pull away, like she’s leaving you to finish a group project she never cared about.

I'll be right back? What the fuck does that mean? 

“Where are you going?” You hiss, grabbing at her arm. Jackie looks back at you with a feigned innocence that makes you want to shake her.

“Relax,” Jackie says confidently. “I just have a little something I need to do.” 

“A little something?” You ask frustratedly. 

She just grins, shaking her head. “I have a plan. Jeff’s asleep.” Jackie gestures vaguely toward the downstairs living room. “Just a quick little addition. You’ll be fine!” 

“Jackie,” You plead, more exasperated than you feel comfortable admitting. She always has to go and do stupid stunts at the last moment. More likely than not they worked out, at least when it came to this, but it frustrated you the way she set her mind toward things sometimes. You didn’t bother to argue with her, knowing that any real fight wouldn’t stop her anyway. 

“I know, I know,” She placates, but she’s already rising to her feet and out the door before you can raise another argument. You grip the knife tighter in your hand, trying to quell your rising irritation before you finally make your way to your feet. 

“Un-fucking-believable,” You mutter. At least you could channel that anger into something productive–killing Jeff. The thought of him still lying prone and unresponsive on that couch does little to soothe your nerves. Part of you wanted to watch the realization in his eyes as you sunk the knife into his chest, but it was too late for that now. Shauna has her distraction at the soccer field, Jackie has her addition, and you have Jeff asleep on the couch. 

Teamwork with the two of them often felt like trying to domesticate feral cats. 

Only, as you make your way down the stairs, Jeff doesn't seem to be on the couch any longer. You couldn't see Jackie anywhere, but part of you already knew it was entirely her fault. You have to take each step down the stairs carefully now, cautiously testing it for a squeaky floorboard that could be your undoing. Your frustration is sharper now, mind racing with every way Jackie could've botched this by waking Jeff up on her way out. She wouldn't have left you here alone with him if she was aware she'd stirred him awake, but that was little comfort now that you were left to complete the job by yourself. 

You half expect Jackie to jump out from behind every shadow in the corner of the room, the coat rack looming large in the back of your mind, but you know better. Still, your nerves are high enough that even the mundane feels threatening. You can't help but let your mind wander for a moment, wondering if that was the last thing people felt before Shauna was on them. The thought shouldn't be as exciting as it is.

There wouldn't be a call for this one, you knew. Jackie had told you as such earlier, but you hadn't thought to ask her why. Even now it felt more like their thing than yours, even if Shauna would roll her eyes at you saying such. They wanted Jeff's death to be noticeably different from the others, something to do with making it stand out. You suspected it was probably something to do with setting Travis up now that he made such an easy target for it, so you appreciated being left out of it. You weren't his biggest fan by far, but it left a bad taste in your mouth to think about ruining his life like this.

Oh, you realize suddenly. Jackie was probably off planting evidence or some stupid shit like that. 

It wasn't anger, exactly, that struck you at the realization–just a maddening sense that you'd once again been left to pick up the pieces when one of their plans went off the rails. Their thrill-seeking would be the death of you one day. Sooner rather than later at this rate. 

You hear the pantry door slam closed, then bumbling hands dropping something to the ground with a loud thud. Jeff curses under his breath, barely loud enough to be heard from the kitchen in the echoing silence of his house. You wonder what's going through his mind as you sneak across his living room. Has he noticed that everyone's left? Or has he just assumed he passed out long enough to miss his party? 

He probably did. Always one to accept the simplest excuse. 

You wait for him to turn his back–wait for him to present you with an easy target. You'll embellish the story when the two of them ask about it, tell them about the way you valiantly chased him across the house. Maybe you'd give yourself a bruise or two before Jackie returned, just in case. His waking up could be to your benefit if you played it correctly, remembering how disappointed Jackie had been by an unmoving target. It could be fun to guilt trip her just a little about leaving you alone with him. She would certainly do it to you, after all. 

Jeff's got his head resting in his hands as he leans against the counter with a groan, disoriented and still more than a little drunk after his nap. You carefully step closer, knife raised above your head in mocking imitation of Shauna. You've only seen her in her element twice now, but there was something a little absurd about watching her move when you weren't the one running for your life. An undeniable grace, but an intense focus that makes her unaware of just how wild she looks. 

Jeff turns around suddenly, eyes widening as he catches sight of you looking large behind him. He almost drops the bottle he's loosely holding in one hand, mouth agape. You're both frozen in this moment, his eyes focused on the small holes in the mask where your eyes are. His reaction isn't anything like you were expecting–not fear, not shock, not even anger. There's an almost thrilled amusement on his face that you're not sure what to do with. He's grinning like an idiot, either oblivious or unconcerned by the knife in your hand. 

He laughs suddenly, relaxing back against the counter as he gives your shoulder a little shove. It isn't that hard of a push, not something that would usually move you at all, but in your shock it's enough to send you stumbling back into the kitchen island. 

Your back hits the edge of the counter hard enough that it takes a concentrated effort not to cry out in pain, already aware of the beginning of a bruise forming from the dull ache pulsing through you. Well, at least you wouldn't have to give it to yourself. One less thing you'd have to lie about when you tell the story. You're definitely leaving this part out. It's getting embarrassing. 

“Dude,” Jeff says, eyes alight with excitement. “Where did you get that? I thought they stopped selling the costume after–” He waves his hand around vaguely. “You know, everything.” 

You shrug, almost comically, making a show out of holding the knife loosely in your hand. 

“God, people would go nuts if they saw you walking around like that,” He says, waving the bottle around to emphasize his words. Jeff laughs again, clearly entertaining himself even if no one else. “Oh shit, wait! Is everyone else still here? You were all in on it, right? Scaring me?”

You watch him for a moment, almost in disbelief, before nodding. The ease at which he's accepted this surprised even you. Whether he's still pretty drunk, or just that stupid, you're not sure. Either way, you have no complaints. The part where he was too thick to realize he was in danger? You'd definitely be leaving that out in your recounting of the night. 

You slowly raise the knife before pointing the tip of it in the vague direction of upstairs. Jeff nods eagerly, almost looking like a bobble head as he starts stumbling to the stairs. “Hiding in my room? Smart.”

He stops, hand on the banister as he turns around to look at you with narrowed eyes. Your heart starts to race, beating rapidly in your chest. Is this it? Is this when he finally realizes–

“Someone's going to jump out at me when I get to my room, huh?” He accuses smugly, like he guessed the punch line to your joke before you could finish it. Your jaw clenches beneath your mask in irritation, but you stay quiet. You didn't want to risk him hearing your voice. With your luck he'd immediately catch on. You feel your shoulders relax as the tension leaves as quickly as it came. 

You glance down at the ground, as if you were embarrassed, giving him exactly what he wants to see. He just laughs. 

“Don't worry, man. I'll pretend I didn't know.” He gives you an encouraging look and a quick thumbs-up, chuckling as he heads up the stairs. 

You tighten your grip on the knife as you follow silently up the stairs after him, steps light enough that he keeps glancing behind him to see if you're still following. You wave the knife encouragingly as he turns around again right before his bedroom. A thrill washes over you as he reaches for the door handle, an almost giddy feeling rising in your chest as he pushes the door open to find no one in there. 

He glances back at you with a frown, then his face lights up as he reaches for the light switch and walks inside. You stand in the doorway behind him, watching as he slams open the closet door–as if to catch someone by surprise. 

“Dude? Where are they?” He whispers, shifting almost anxiously at your continued silence. 

“What are you…” He trails off, almost disappointed as you don't take the mask off. 

His smile fades as he catches on–finally–just a little. Just enough that his body starts to close off, that he starts to shift to stand just a little steadier as he turns around. Not quick enough, however, to stop the knife from sinking into his back as you lunge forward. He cries out, hand reflexively trying to reach back for you, but you manage to sink the knife into his back another two times before he hits you hard enough with a desperate swing of his arm to send you stumbling back. 

Gasping, he stumbles too, hand clutching uselessly at his back where blood seeps out of his wounds. His shirt is already darkening where the blood stains it, the fabric already beginning to stick to his skin. There’s the look of disbelief on his face as he catches sight of his fingertips, his face ghostly as he tears his eyes away from it. Jeff takes a step forward, as if to strike out at you again, but collapses down to his knees as his legs give out beneath him. 

Your hands are still raised, knife gripped tightly between your fingers as you wait to see if he'll stand again. The adrenaline pumps heavily through your veins, almost daring you to make a stupid mistake, but you dig your feet in, muscles poised. 

His eyes are unfocused, dilated and hazy as he looks up at you. The look of betrayal on his face is shocking, up and until you realize he still thinks you're one of his friends. You're fine to let him think that, in all honesty. His breath comes out in wheezy, pathetic gasps as he leans heavily against the wall behind him. You watch the way his chest moves as he breathes, slower and slower as the blood loss starts to catch up to him. 

You tense up as he starts to slump over, but still you wait, watching as it dawns on him that he’s going to die here. This is the end. His lips part uselessly, like he’s trying to form words that will never come to him. It looks like it takes all he has in him to let out a sound barely above a whisper, lost beneath the gurgling of his throat. Jeff’s shoulders slump slowly, whether in exhaustion or resignation you’re not sure, as his head droops forward enough to brush against his chest.

His face slackens, recognition fading in a way that has you sure he’s either gone or close enough that it wouldn’t matter. Still, the hollow look in his eyes catches your attention even as you try to look away. The utter emptiness looking back at you reminds you suddenly of Allie. It had only been a few months ago that you had first looked upon death, but it feels like years ago now as you look back at Jeff with a detachment you never could have predicted. 

You wonder if this is how Shauna felt looking down at Allie, but quickly decide it wasn’t. You can’t imagine Shauna not being exuberant as she stares down at the results of her hunt. It’s not that you were upset, but it was something different than the looks you’d seen on either of your girlfriend’s faces.

If he was ever afraid it was fleeting–you try not to focus on how strangely disappointing that realization is. A part of you wants him to cry out one last time, anything to feed that growing numbness inside you, but he remains silent. You’re almost insulted, in a way. Blood pools around him on the floor, slowly spreading out, almost crawling across the floor in a way that’s nothing short of mesmerizing. For a brief moment it looks alive in a way that it could never be.

You cross the distance between you, grabbing a fist full of his hair as you drag his head up. He moves far too easily, limp as you expose his neck. With a deliberate slowness, you drag the knife across his throat, feeling the skin give way beneath the sharp steel. The blood pours down his neck, soaking into the front of his shirt to match with bloodstains already marking his torso.

The metallic scent of blood fills the room as you let go, his body collapsing in on itself like a puppet who’s had its strings cut. It might have been overkill, but that’s something you couldn’t care less about. You could never be too careful, no matter what Shauna would have thought about the subject. The emptiness remains even now that it’s done–a dull ache that staring down at his corpse doesn’t quite fix.

Your head shoots up at the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway, the knife in your hand raising defensively until you catch sight of the swishing robe in the doorway. Those empty eyes stare back at you through the slits in the mask as she stares down at the body at your feet before giving you an approving nod. You can’t help but grin despite how silly it makes you feel.

Her head turns to the closet, as if half-expecting someone to jump out of it, but it stays empty. She takes a few cautious steps forward, looking around the room searchingly. Finally, she just sighs. She reaches up, as if to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation, before stopping suddenly as she remembers the mask. It’s more charming than you wish it was.

“Where’s Jackie?” Shauna asks, her voice a mixture of irritation and inevitability. You just shrug.

“That sounds about right,” She continues dryly, an ever present fondness underlying her exasperation.

[nosugarallspice]

Jude taking all his frustrations on u after his team lost the game? But he takes it all in bed and he praises reader alotttt🙏🏼

Omg I can just picture angry Jude, he'd be so rough but also gentle because he doesn't want to hurt you. // this man does things to me.

Minors DNI!!

Word Count: 564

Author’s Note: I def got carried away with this one but I’m not mad about it, and I know you guys won’t be either. Jude is soooo !!!! Like idk how to explain it but I love this man.

~~

Jude arrived home, he made sure to let you know of his presence by slamming the door shut, obviously not in the best mood taking in the fact that they lost to Barcelona 0-3.

You always knew of the rivalry between the two teams, and you could only imagine how frustrating it must be for the boys, now that they’ve lost to them.

Knowing Jude, he wouldn’t take the loss too well.

“Babe?” You called out to him as you walked upstairs to the bedroom, but you got no response.

Entering the room, there Jude sat at the edge of the bed staring into blank space, jaw clenched, clearly upset. You stood in front of him, your hands gently caressing his face.

“Look, I know you’re upset about how today's match went.. but I know what’ll make you feel better.” You leaned down, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

And just like that; Jude had you on the bed, pinned under him.

He grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head before leaning down, “I’m gonna do whatever I want, and you’re just going to lay there and take it.” He whispered into your ear.

You nodded your head, trying so hard to bite back your smile. You loved when he was like this- yeah you felt bad he was upset about the game but deep down you were excited for what was about to happen next.

You let out a gasp once he slid into you, but that was immediately replaced with your moans- you savored the feeling of him stretching you out, didn’t matter how many times you guys had sex, you’d never fully get used to his size.

Jude set the pace, fast and rough, the way you both liked. His hand gripped your throat while he fucked into you.

“Taking me so well, like the whore you are.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

All you could do in that moment was nod, while the whimpers escaped you, it felt so good, so good to the point that you could cry.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.” He placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, and trust me, it was messy. You could feel the spit pooling from the corner of your mouth but you loved it.

“You’re mine yeah? I do whatever I want with you.” He groaned, he lifted your leg over his shoulder, putting him at a deeper angle, the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You look so pretty with my cock in you.”

Jude loved this shit, being able to take his frustrations out on you in bed, knowing you both loved the roughness, it was his favorite thing.- He smirked, watching your eyes roll back into your head, the way your back arched pushing your bare chest against his.

The grip he once had on your throat was now gone, he slid his hand down, making its way in between your thighs. Resting right on top of your cunt before pressing down, rubbing slow circles against your swollen clit.

“P-please” you managed to choke out, your legs began to shake as your orgasm approached you, “I’m gonna-“

You were cut off by Jude- “I know baby, let go for me.”

“Cmon, you can do it.” He coached you through your orgasm, soon following after; spilling his load deep inside you.

[hannigramislife]

Kuroko no Basket will always have a special place in my heart, and this is one of the reasons why:

Her. Aida Riko. Everything about her makes KnB the best sports anime to me.

No, 'cuz the fact that this beloved sports anime made the coach of the main team a woman - a 17 year old girl at that - made a huge difference in the show for me. It's such a pleasure to watch Riko have just as much passion for the game as the team, for her to be such a key character in an otherwise widely male-dominated anime genre.

She makes sure to push the team to improve, doing everything in her power to make make them go past their limits (the roofrop ceremony, breaking Hyuuga's figurines, getting Mitobe to block Kagami etc), she always makes sure to get their spirits up, even if it doesn't always work out (getting them to go eat steaks, the lemon with honey slices), and she does what's best for them, even when they don't like it (pulling Kiyoshi from the Kirisaki Daiichi game, subbing the first year duo out, putting Furihata against Akashi).

Like, she's such a smart and relatable and real character??? The fact that she also gets her romance with Hyuuga, but is done so organically, and they're such good friends?? The fact that they rely on each other as coach and captain?? The fact that they founded the club together?? Plus, she is still able to have a deep friendship with Kiyoshi with no romantic tension or friction between the three of them?? It shouldn't be this refreshing to see a female character like this, but it is, which is what makes Riko so amazing.

And she's not the only one.

Momoi is also such a great female character that you rarely see in these shows. Yes, she's the feminine manager of an enemy team, but she's just as much part of the Generation of Miracles friend group as the others are, despite not being a player. The fact that she gathers information about their opponents and comes up with strategies to highlight her team's strengths and shut down the enemies is incredible. She also has a crush on the main character that is obviously unrequited, yet it's handled so gracefully?? She is who she is despite her feelings for Kuroko, and I love that for her, because instead of following Kuroko to Seirin, she chose to stay with Aomine. Her loyalty to her childhood friend is so strong and so pure that she never gave up hope that Aomine would find his love for basketball again. That he'd smile again– that she'd get her old friends back.

Truly amazing.

And an honorary mention goes to another female character whom I wanted to see more of:

"Kagami was written by a woman," yes, because Alex Garcia made Kagami, bitch. That's her son you're talking about. Alex being the one who taught Kagami basketball is so badass of her. She's Mother.

Let's hear if for the female characters of Kuroko no Basket!!! The rest of the sports anime world could never!!!

[bumblingbabooshka]

Inspired by this post: What if B'Elanna reveals to Harry that she feels insecure about not knowing much about her Human (Puerto Rican) heritage after two interactions at the beginning of the episode - one with Chakotay and one with Tuvok where they both display a deep connection to their heritages and cultural practices. Harry then reveals that he's also mixed - his mother being Chinese while his father's Korean. Like Chakotay, he wasn't very interested in cultural practices as a kid (he seems like he'd find them boring at a young age) and his parents didn't push him to participate or learn which was fine when he was a kid but as he got older he began to feel a sense of displacement, guilt, and frustration. It's easier to just be 'Human' rather than taking ownership of anything more specific, especially since to most people he's not visibly mixed, but with being away from his family he feels now more than ever that he wishes he'd connected to that heritage. He expresses the same yearning that B'Elanna brings to him - he's also noticed that Tuvok and Chakotay can connect to their parents, their people, their faith even so far away...that connection gives them a strength and assurance that both Harry and B'Elanna envy. He tells her about the Alter Ego coaching incident and B'Elanna tells him about the Meditation Fail. They both tease each other good naturedly. B'Elanna tells Harry about how Chakotay instructed her in some of his cultural practices (we see in 'Cathexis' that she has knowledge of these practices) and how she started being jealous then, specifically of how he can connect to and sort of amend his relationship with his father (which was rocky in life) THROUGH these practices and the faith he carries in them. She sometimes tried to do the same privately but it felt like acting, uncomfortable. B'Elanna's different from Harry, having been bullied for her Klingon side heavily, she wanted very much to claim her Human (Puerto Rican) heritage. She never saw it as something boring and often tried to connect with her cousins etc over it but they always pushed her away, asserting she was 'Klingon' and as 'Other.' After her father left, she seems to have been entirely cut off from her Human side of the family. When she grew enough to do her own research into her heritage, she felt overwhelmingly that it was already too late for her to connect to this side of herself. People already only call her "Klingon" though she's half Human. If she were to attempt to claim anything more specific, she'd surely just be laughed at. Harry smiles and bumps her shoulder with his own. "I'm not laughing," he says. "You're smiling." "I usually am." Then B'Elanna smiles too. Throughout the series (from that point on) we can see B'Elanna and Harry practicing Mandarin, Korean, and Puerto Rican Spanish. Though they start off just helping the other, they start to learn all three languages between them and sometimes have conversations as they're working together which become less and less stilted as time goes on. Harry even learns a bit of Klingon! This leads to B'Elanna's Human grandmother or something being the one to contact her instead of her no-good-space-racist-daughter-abandoning-terrible-scum-father and B'Elanna opening the conversation by speaking to her in Spanish, to the woman's unabashed delight. B'Elanna quickly wipes away a tear at hearing how proud the woman is of her, how she grew up so beautifully, how she was afraid she forgot all about them or hated them for what her father did to her family but she's so pleased that obviously isn't the case, not if she took the time to learn their language. Afterward, we see B'Elanna restless in her quarters. She gets up and begins a letter. It's to her mother, whom she still doesn't know the status of (her grandmother hasn't been in contact with her or B'Elanna's father). She starts in Standard then pauses and has the computer erase that entry, beginning again in Klingon. End.

[cchloset]

buster and eddie headcanons

still struggling to draw and i feel really lazy but i have to say. buster and eddie together, just the concept alone, has me giggling and kicking my legs. theyre so silly. and yes i DO think theyre boyfriends. sorry if this is hard to read its late and im not giving much attention to legibility rn. big walls of text sorryguys - i kinda flipflop between if they met in very late high school or during college because buster says to nana "we met at eddie's graduation". i think it fits better canonically if buster was already maybe halfway through/almost done with his courses and then met a freshman eddie. buster graduated first, then eddie followed. - eddie did not take college seriously at all. guy failed everything. but he locked in the last year, because from the Eddie's Life Coach short film he's shown to know how to get his act together – even if it means immediately forgetting it afterwards - eddie majored in sound design. he wanted to make sound effects for video games - these guys are HUGE morons. oh my god. dumb and dumber over here. average intelligence decreases by 20% whenever they walked into a room - buster was a lot more hyperactive and scattered back then but has mellowed out with age and got his adhd medicated - eddie comes from a spanish-speaking family. he understands spanish but can't speak a word (me with afrikaans lol) - no one at the theatre really knows who eddie is beside his name, the fact that he helps out from time to time, and that he sometimes brings in mcdonalds and coffee for mr moon - eddie smokes pot. not as much now but always used to back then - did he share with buster? obviously - buster CANNOT cook. his father always made the food when he was alive, or miss crawley would make him things, or he'd just buy microwavable stuff you slap in for a few minutes and its ready to eat. do not trust this man around a stove - the kitchen in his loft apartment is seldom used because he eats microwavable lasagna or something every single day - one time he tried making something and set the place on fire - also i think buster's dad's name is David because the Dave and Buster's pun cracks me up n makes me hysterical - as a housewarming gift, eddie gave buster his old xbox. it still works fine but he has a newer one and doesnt want the old one collecting dust. well it collects dust anyway because buster has not played any. hes too busy - buster cant see far away. hes always squinting and getting headaches. refuses to get glasses because 'theyre such a hassle' and opts for contact lenses - eddie has given buster his own keys to the pool house because he visits so often - eddie's parents don't like buster so much. the constant mooching and borrowing money (which he still hasnt paid back btw) doesnt leave a good impression. buster doesnt mind and hops the fence when they lock him out

its 3am ill write more if i think of them. and maybe draw soon. sob sob

[milaisreading]

Hii how's your day been? My day was made by toddler manager au & tho i don't want to come across as pressuring u to write (i truly don't want that😬) i just thought abt how a toddler kaiser who be like? I imagine him to be rather shy and stuttering around yn and wanting to be held at all times. his sniffles would turn into full blown sobs as he'd find the staring intimidating and run to latch onto yn's or noels legs if yn is around..shidou ness isagi and lorenzo would havw the most fun teasing him and hell lets loose when they show him the vids the next day🫠🫠🫠tho he atleast got to be pampered by yn all day (isagi even got scolded hehe) not to mention the crown yn gave him as a gift at that time

Maybe a cute crying face like this🥺

Thanks for listening good day ♡ℒฺℴฺνℯฺ♡

Author: I'll be honest, Idk what sort of Pandora's box I opened with that story yesterday, but u all seem to want more variations! So here we go, hope u enjoy it and thanks for the request🩷🩷

Warnings ⚠️: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to: Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Anri was in distress. Ever since (Y/n) had turned back to normal, things have gone semi-normal. Sure, she would get teased by Lorenzo and Shidou over her attachment towards Ness, the Blue Lock players would often times be caught glaring at the said German player and Kaiser... well he has been a lot nice towards her. Was it because of him being the reason for her distress while she was a toddler? Anri really didn't know and it wasn't really important. But this morning the same issue happened, just that this time nobody other than Michael Kaiser was the victim! It was a fairly normal morning until Ness barged into Ego's office, showing him the toddler sized Kaiser, who the whole time had a bright red face and was glaring at Ego and Anri. Or attempt to, it just looked like a pout and Anri couldn't help but cry from the cuteness, taking a picture here and there. Meanwhile Ego was already looking for new job applications as Kaiser kept on stuttering nonsense. Later, the coaches were called over and Noel dressed hin in a smaller version of the Bastard uniform. The coaches, Ego and Anri agreed on the latter two taking care of Kaiser for the day and for nobody to tell anyone what had happened. And so, Ness and Noel left Kaiser alone with the two, an arrangement Kaiser wasn't too happy with. While Anri enjoyed the time (Y/n) was a toddler... Kaiser was a different story. He either wouldn't sit still for a minute, would stutter out words which left both adults confused on what he wanted or would protest eating anything from Anri or Ego. The man was forced by Anri to do that. Now, Noel would come in from time to time in order to check up on Kaiser, the boy was always excited to see him. But after the like 4th time, Kaiser stopped being happy and would just pout then hide behind a chair. When Anri finally asked what he wanted, the answer from the toddler surprised both her and Ego.

"(Y/n)!" He answered with a blush as the two adults looked at each other.

"It's a surprise he even remembers her. (Y/n) back then only remembered us and Ness." Anri commented.

"While it is a surprise, (Y/n) has her own duties." Ego shrugged as the boy glared at him, obviously getting the hint his request was rejected.

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)!" Kaiser jumped up and down, but Ego would just shake his head.

"Maybe it would be for the better if we called her over." Anri got up from the ground to look at Ego, Kaiser perked up at that and nodded his head.

"No." Ego said again, causing the blonde to growl.

The room seemed to have calmed down and Kaiser kept on looking at the door from time to time. Soon he saw an exit chance in the form of Lavinho walking into the room and not closing the door fast enough, and Kaiser used the opportunity to run out.

"(Y/N)!" He shouted as Anri and Lavinho panicked.

"I need a change in my career path." Ego groaned as Anri and Lavinho left the room.

"Eh..." (Y/n) sweat dropped as Lorenzo barked for lime the 10th time this morning and looked at the Italian coach.

"Snuffy-san?"

"What?" The man asked, looking up from his papers.

"Lorenzo has been barking the whole time." (Y/n) said to the man, who sighed in defeat and shook her concerns off.

"It's normal. Aryu, Baro and Niko are pretty much used to it all." The girl slowly nodded her head and looked at the said boys, who had a mixture of annoyance, embarrassment and anger on their faces. She smiled in sympathy at them and was about to speak up again, when two familiar voices were heard outside.

"Kaiser! Come back here!"

"Don't go inside! A monster is there!" Anri and Lavinho's shouts stopped the whole practice and caused Snuffy to tense up a little.

"Ah? Did Kaiser's fever go down?" (Y/n) wondered as the door opened, only for the group to see a mini version of Kaiser running inside.

"Ehhh?!" (Y/n)'s shrieked as Snuffy facepalmed. Kaiser looked around the room and grinned as he saw (Y/n), then ran towards her before Lavinho caught him.

"(Y/n)!!" The toddler yelled and hugged the girl's legs. This caught Baro, Niko and Aryu's attention and they walked towards the duo, and Lorenzo followed close behind.

"Kaiser?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened as the boy looked up, face red and smiling up at her.

"(Y/n)...."

"So, you guys couldn't keep him at bay?" Snuffy teased the two adults, who glared at him.

"What is going on here?" Baro raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you guys say Kaiser was sick?" Niko added in as he observed the blonde.

"Is this the same issue (Y/n) was in?" Aryu asked Anri, whole slowly started explaining the situation.

"Up... up!"Kaiser said as he stretched his arms out and (Y/n) went along, finding it hard to say 'no' to a toddler version of Kaiser. The boy sighed in content and buried his face in her neck.

"So does that mean Kaiser is now useless on the field?" Lorenzo spoke up as he observed the blonde child. Kaiser, at those words looked up and glared at Lorenzo, who laughed at his expression.

"Awww~ not so intimidating now?"

(Y/n) watched as Kaiser's glare softened and it looked like he was about to cry.

"Please Lorenzo, shut up and go to training." She spoke up sternly and looked back at Kaiser, speaking in a much softer voice.

"Don't listen to that grumpy man, you are still the best. Yes you are~" The blonde's expression turned into a happy one and he hugged the girl again.

"I am not grumpy!" Lorenzo protested.

"(Y/n)!" The girl sighed as Kaiser hugged her leg again while she wrote something down. She looked down at the boy, who sent her a big smile, and all the annoyance seemed to disappear from her face.

"What did you need, Kaiser? I thought you had fun playing with the football we gave you?" The girl asked and patted the boy's head. Kaiser blushed and grabbed her hand before she could remove it.

"Up!" He said.

"I can't now, Kaiser. I need to write this down for Noel-san."

"No! Up!" Kaiser grumbled, not wanting to share (Y/n)'s attention with some papers.

"Up~" He said again.

"How about this, you let me finish this and for the rest of the day we can play together. I will be done in about 20 minutes." Kaiser pouted at the idea of having to wait, but if he can have (Y/n) for the rest of the day, then it was fine. The girl watched as the boy sat down on the grass and held onto the fabric of her pants.

'He is so cute as a baby! How did he turn out so... so Kaiser-like?' She thought.

"Kaiser is acting like a duckling! He keeps following (Y/n) around, it's unbearable at this point!" The said boy looked over at Shidou who was laughing about the situation with Rin.

"(Y/n)!" The boy shouted, burying his face into her leg as she looked down at him and then at the duo.

"Shidou! Rin! You two are behind in practice! Get back to it, or else I will have to call Loki-san!" (Y/n) told them and the two tensed up at her words.

Kaiser chuckled a little stuck his tongue out while (Y/n) wasn't paying attention to him.

'That little bastard!'Rin and Shidou thought as they went back to training.

Isagi and Ness felt an urge to pick Kaiser up and throw him somewhere. Right now, the boy was enjoying his time sitting in (Y/n)'s lap as she fed him some food Anri prepared.

'That dipshit is being too comfortable right now.' Isagi thought as he ate his food.

'So this is what it feels like to be in Kaiser's shoes? Would hate being him on a regular day.' Ness put on his usual smile and offered to feed Kaiser while she ate her own lunch.

"Nooo!" Kaiser protested, grabbing tightly on (Y/n)'s shirt. The girl shook her head at the offer and gave Kaiser another spoonful of his food.

"No need! I am not that hungry, anyways." (Y/n) said calmly as Isagi eyed the blonde boy suspiciously.

"It's so weird seeing you act so nice to him." The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the boy.

"I guess I have a soft spot for baby Kaiser." She simply answered, kissing the boy's forehead. Kaiser's face turned a bright pink as the pther two were close to kicking him, but held themselves back to not upset (Y/n).

The next day everything was normal again, Kaiser woke up in his normal body and when he entered the field, was greeted by teasings and jokes from his fellow pro-players.

"Hahaha! You should have seen yourself, Kaiser! Crying at everything and anything." Shidou said while nudging the annoyed German.

"Oh man! I wish I could have seen it in real time, instead of a video. I'll blame Snuffy for the schedule." Oliver pouted.

"There is a video?!" Kaiser asked in disbelief as Sae nodded his head. The latter was still jet legged from his flight, but still had enough energy to let out a chuckle.

"Nagi took one yesterday. It's very popular in the gc." Ness laughed a little and moved away, avoiding Kaiser's slap.

"Shut up..." The blonde glared, then remembered a specific moment tat happened yesterday.

"Does Nagi have a picture of (Y/n) playing and kissing my forehead?" Now this caught the rest's attention.

"What do you mean by that?" Oliver asked in disbelief.

"Well, (Y/n) was pretty much pampering me yesterday with kisses, hugs and feeding me. Even my baby form is more love day her than all 4 of you combined."

"I should kick you back to Germany." Sae commented as Shidou nodded his head.

'Sleep with one eye open, Kaiser.' Ness thought in annoyance, hating the fact that he was right.

[ashbashsquashmabosh]

I love thinking about who would actually make the "perfect court" aka the usa team for exy based on the characters we know in aftg, so humour me.

Goalkeepers wise I don't think Renee would want to be court, she's got other things going on I think she loved exy while with Palmetto but I don't think she'd pursue it to that level. The way things were going I think Andrew would though if just because Neil will and it gives him something to do, he's still not living for it and I don't think he'd stay in it long, I'm thinking two olympic games and then he's done. Robin however learns to basically live for the game she's besties with Neil so they're exy junkies together, she continues to play for a long time on perfect court. I don't really know enough about Laila to say whether or not she has the chops to be on the national team so idk?

The only dealers we actually meet are Allison and Dan. Dan actually says herself that she wouldn't pursue Exy for herself but would take over the coaching of the Palmetto team, even though I definitely think she would be good enough to be court. I think Allison has a very competitive streak so I could see her going for court, but I can also see her starting her own business or something. I think she'd do it for a couple years and then drop it.

So for Strikers we have a big three Kevin, Neil and Jeremy and very obviously all three would make court and stick with it for a long time. Neil and Kevin are basically bound by oath to play at a high level for as long as their bodies are able and to coach after that. But I think they do love it, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they weren't consumed by exy.

In regards to backliners I think we get confirmation that Thea is on court? Neither Aaron or Nicky have any desire to be court whatsoever. Matt is described a million times by Neil as being the best player on the foxes so he's definitely good enough, but idk if it would be his goal. Again I don't know enough about Cat to say one way or the other. And finally Jean. Jean I think is like Neil and Kevin, playing until he drops.

( This can obviously only be based on characters we've met I know there would probably be a bunch of unknowns from other teams )

So our line out is:

Dealer- Allison

Goalkeeper- Andrew, sub Robin

Strikers - Kevin, Neil, sub Jeremy

Backliners- Jean, Thea sub Matt

Please tell me your opinions and give me the names of fics that explore this I'm begging

[666writingcafe]

Good evening Anna,

Can I have Been with

“I wanna eat you out so fucking bad.” “Then why don’t you?”

Pretty please with whipped cream and cherries on top?

Thank you.

Mischief.

Order #10

"I wanna eat you out so fucking bad." "Then why don't you?" Beel x Female!MC

A Text Conversation That Occurs After A Late-Night Fangol Game

Beel: hey.

Beel: you awake?

MC: *thumbs up emoji*

Beel: too tired to talk?

MC: I'm good. What's up?

Beel: i'm hungry.

Beel: i know: shocker. *eye roll emoji*

MC: Did someone say something about your stomach again?

Beel: the opposing team.

Beel: like, all the members.

Beel: their fans even made signs.

Beel: it was quite degrading, actually. i'm trying to play, and everyone's chanting insults about how i'm gonna eat the ball and shit like that.

Beel: what's even worse is that we ended up losing by two points due to a last-minute goal, so everyone was cackling at that point.

Beel: "oh, wook at the wittle baby! he's too hungry to score a goal!"

MC: I'm really sorry that happened to you, Beel. Did your teammates and/or coach say anything?

Beel: only one: my friend aphan. everyone else was silent.

Beel: well, except for when we were heading towards the bus. a whole bunch of them were whispering, snickering, and pointing in my direction. the coach told them to knock it off, but i could tell he didn't really mean it.

Beel: so during the bus ride back to rad, aphan told me that we should quit the team because their behavior this evening was unforgivable. they should have stood up for me, and since they didn't, they don't deserve to have me. obviously, he'd leave in solidarity.

MC: *shocked emoji*

MC: Did you?

Beel: *nodding crow sticker*

Beel: after we left everyone behind, we went through the drivethru of the nearest akudonald's and chilled in the parking lot for a bit, just shooting the shit. it made me feel a bit better.

MC: He's a good person.

Beel: he's trying to be. he was hanging out with some dark magic demons for a while, but he's doing his best to leave that behind.

Beel: but that's beside the point. i didn't just reach out to you to vent.

MC: *questioning mascots sticker*

Beel: you'll have to forgive me for being blunt.

MC: I'm used to it at this point. Hit me.

Beel: well, after the frankly shitty evening i've had, the one thing that could salvage it is you.

Beel: i wanna eat you out so fucking bad.

MC: Then why don't you?

Beel: because i'm not at the house yet.

Beel: but i'm about ten minutes away.

MC: Do I need to do anything to prep?

Beel: this is why i love you. you're so considerate.

Beel: tonight, i just want to go straight into it. don't want to fight clothes or sheets to get to you.

Beel: and i know you normally use magic to make your room soundproof, but don't do that this time. i'm in the kind of mood where i want people to hear you. maybe even wake my brothers up if they're asleep.

Beel: i just want to show that my sin is good for at least one thing: making you feel good.

MC: *a string of smirking emojis*

Beel: fyi, you'll probably lose your voice by the time i'm done, so it might not be the best idea to attend class tomorrow.

MC: That's honestly fine. There's nothing major happening in any of my classes, and I have decent enough grades that skipping one day isn't going to kill me.

Beel: wonderful. see you soon. *kissing emoji*

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy