#it wasn't fair and it still isn't and i'm sorry you had to and are still going through some stuff

[ao3cassandraic]

Murderbot s1e9, quick reactions

Cut for spoilers...

Teaser scene basically comes first. Yeah, I was right that Pin-Lee is antsy and scared and wants to bail and Gurathin being pissy is conspicuously Not Helping.

"I noticed you have a problem with eye contact." I YELLED. THEN I REWOUND TO WATCH IT AGAIN. I YELLED SOME MORE. BURNED THAT ONE RIGHT ACROSS THE PLATE, MURDERBOT. WELL-PLAYED!

(David Dastmalchian's "... okay, I guess you got me, you fucker" expression was also perfect.)

"What is your plan, Dr. Gurathin?" Daaaaaaaaamn, Murderbot. The hits keep coming!

"If anyone tells you that, start worrying." I almost said that before Murderbot did.

I love the varying meanings of "hot."

Plans within plans. Which I expected, but it's still cool.

I NEED to know more about Lieutenant Kogi. Lieutenant Kogi sounds fucking awesome.

Yeah, we all knew GrayCris wasn't gonna play fair.

OH WAIT SHIT IS MURDERBOT GOING TO FREE THE OTHER SECUNITS?! oh shit that's awesome, I hope it's the plan!

*tosses the BlueUnit head* Dang, Murderbot. That's cold.

Bharadwaj has faith in Murderbot... and they silently come to consensus. That was a genuinely beautiful moment. I LOVED that.

... I always imagined the drones a lot smaller than that. But all things considered, I understand why they did it that way.

"I was exaggerating." You couldn't resist another shot at Gurathin, could you, MB?

I guess GrayCris didn't have advance knowledge of the PresAux complement. Probably just as well.

"I... copy" are shitty last words, Murderbot.

Putting Murderbot in the cargo hold lets us know that GrayCris probably doesn't have additional SecUnits in reserve.

Uh-oh. This isn't good at all.

"Then we better haul ass." That's the most Murderbot thing you've ever said, Gurathin.

Murderbot is bad at stalling, unsurprisingly.

"BOLDNESS IS ALL!" *undignified splat*

I love that they kept the book-series motif where Murderbot's first plan basically never ever works.

Oof. I'm sorry you had to do that, Pin-Lee. But you did have to. Just as Murderbot did with LeeBeeBee.

"I live for gleeful torture." Yeah, just ask Gurathin.

Use a BlueUnit to kill a BlueUnit. Clever.

TOUCH.

Gurathin's face goes on a WHOLE-ASS JOURNEY.

... yeah, I knew that had to be the cliffhanger.

Now I'm gonna watch it again!

[labcoated]

fallon  narrowed  her  eyes,  “sure,”  she  drawled  out,  a  slight  shake  of  her  head  as  she  looked  at  him.  she  was  right  to  be  suspicious  of  jett.  but  realistically  she  knew  better  than  to  actually  be  truly  suspicious  of  his  motives  at  all.  “you  can  do  that.  but  somehow  i  think  bumping  shoulders  with  me  isn't  way  of  saying  something  so  buttery  sweet,"  fallon  commented,  “y'know,  for  future  reference.”  she  added  in  with  a  slight  tilt  of  her  head,  almost  a  shake  as  she  was  joking,  but  not  quite.  “now  we're  going  to  get  lawyer's  involved,  i'm  not  sure  my  insurance  covers  this  sort  of  thing.  how  would  you  even  explain  that  to  someone?  sorry  neither  of  us  were  looking  in  while  we  were  walking  but  hey  we're  practically  unscathed  save  for  some  paperwork  that  landed  on  the  floor  and  our  egos?”  she  pretended  like  she  was  dialing  up  a  number,  shrugging  her  shoulders  as  if  to  ask.  she  had  dealt  with  being  on  her  fair  share  of  emails  about  law  suits  and  all  that  sort  of  things,  so  she  knew  actual  jargon,  it  just  wasn't  the  time  or  the  place  to  say  it.  a  sigh  at  the  thought  of  violet.  “she's  in  this  stage  where  she  just….  she  wants  me  there  constantly  and  how  do  you  explain  to  a  five  year  old  that  you  have  work  when  the  only  thing  they  truly  understand  is  that  the  movie  they  want  isn't  on  and  they've  got  to  get  out  of  bed?”  fallon  explained,  a  bit  exasperated  at  the  thought.  it  was  taxing  for  her  to  do,  but  she  still  loved  her  daughter  more  than  anything.  doing  it  all  on  her  own  was  simply  never  part  of  the  plan  when  she'd  ever  thought  of  kids,  so  dealing  with  this  was  just  something  she  could  learn  to  handle.  it  was  just  one  of  those  phases  that,  hopefully,  she  would  grow  out  of  sooner  rather  than  later.  she  laughed  at  his  words,  a  light  roll  of  her  eyes,  "please,  as  if  spontaneous  combustion  is  really  something  i  keep  you  from."  then  she  added  in,  “and  you  can pretend  you're  charming  enough  for  the  both  of  us  on  any  given  day,  so  do  i  really  need  to  say  yes  to  this  lunch  when  we  both  know  you'll  show  up  in  my  office  one  of  these  days  around  lunchtime  to  pester  me  anyway?”

“what, can’t a man ask his favorite publicist-slash-wizard-slash-actual-saint if she’s missed him today?” jett asked, stepping back with mock offense, hands raised as if she’d truly wounded him. “besides, i was jogging. you were folder-flailing. so if anyone’s getting sued, it’s probably you.” he offers her a grin, something bright despite the dull morning still clinging to his skin, sweat curling at his collarbone. “you always look like you’re holding this place together with sheer willpower. i don’t know how you do it.” then, gentler, just enough to be heard: “violet okay?” because he heard her, even if she hadn’t seen him at first. “you know . .” he added, already starting to walk beside her, “you should let me take you out for lunch sometime. purely as thanks. for keeping me out of headlines, jail, and spontaneous combustion.” a soft smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. “we both know i’d be unemployed without you.” and then, grinning again, “just say yes so i can pretend i’m charming.”

[peanutalergy]

letting – asking 𖦹 s.r. × reader

in which fem!reader takes what is meant to be a casual thing too far

tags: insane angst, spencer is a bit of a dick ngl, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), post prison!spence, age gap mentioned but not really that relevant, inexperienced!reader, reader is so me lowk

wc: 2.2k

a/n: first time ever posting the shit i write please don't make fun of me this sucks so bad I can't write nicely but I had a vision and I needed to read this I'm aware it's insanely ooc don't worry I hate it too but I'm trying to overcome my anxiety I need to post it I'm sorry. english isn't my first language !!

is it casual now?

you were a rebound. you've known since the very beginning, he was kind enough to let you know. he had just gotten off a long-term relationship with a woman much closer to his own age — who you couldn’t help but notice looked an awful lot like you — and all he wanted was comfort. spencer said he couldn't have, couldn't give anything else. he wasn't looking for anything other than a warm body. you were that for him. a young, pretty, lonely college girl. that's all it was.

but it's been going on for far too long. you met last summer, and it was almost spring again. you don't really have that much experience with situationships, hell, you don't have that much experience with anything, and yet, even you know this shouldn't have lasted as much as it has. it's not normal to have a copy of his keys, or a space in his dresser, or a makeup bag in his bathroom, is it? is it okay that he's been calling you things like my love and my baby and my girl?

truth is, you'd fallen in love with him. you've known it since halloween, a few months into this, when you two dressed up as the tenth doctor and rose for trick or treating together. after you got home and he was helping you take off your makeup while rambling about doctor who, you looked up at him and simply knew.

you started calling his apartment home after the first time he went on a case and let – asked – you to stay there for the whole week. you still have your own apartment, but you're barely there. it's just an extra place to keep the clothes you couldn't fit into the drawers he emptied out for you. this was home. he was home.

when he asked you to be his valentine by sending chocolates and a bouquet, the first real bouquet you ever got from a guy, it's safe to say you were confused. when he took you out to the nicest restaurant you'd ever been to, and gave you the most gorgeous necklace you've ever seen, and told you you're the prettiest girl in the world when you put it on along with the dress he bought for you, you were convinced there was something going on. you spent the whole evening thinking he might have changed his mind, he might actually want you to be his girl, despite the agreement. people change.

until you got home and, after having sex, he shattered your silly dream with a simple question:

“you know you can see other people if you want to, right?”

you're not even sure why those words hurt so much, after all, deep down, you knew you could. he's not your boyfriend. but the fact he feels the need to remind you of such thing, especially after the night you two had, hurts, a strange kind of pain you'd never felt before, and you're sure he could feel your heart breaking inside your chest beneath his head. if he hadn't heard it then, though, he certainly did after a beat, when the next words slipped out of your mouth in a shaky whisper.

“have you been seeing other people?”

“no, of course not. i just think i should let you know. i can't give you anything more than what we have now, so i don't think it's fair to ask you for loyalty.”

and you haven't been able to think straight since then. all your other answers that night were short and dry, and the fact that spencer didn't ask if you were okay made it clear that he knew you weren't, and he knew why.

you loved him.

now, weeks after, you were standing on his balcony with a warm cup of tea in hands, trying to pretend you didn't feel the cold wind hitting your bare arms. you woke up too early and didn't want to be stuck for hours in the torture that consisted of a mixture of your overthinking mind and his sleeping body subconsciously holding you, so you carefully untagled his limbs from yours and went to his kitchen, giving yourself the liberty to have breakfast. after all, he said to make yourself at home when you basically moved in.

you don't even hear the glass door sliding open, which is why his arms wrapping around your waist and his head burying itself in your neck startled you.

“it's too early, why are you up?” he mumbled against your skin before pressing a soft kiss beneath your jaw, his warm breath bringing some sort of comfort from the cold, until you remember why you're out here, in the first place. “jesus, baby, you're freezing. let's go inside.”

“i’m not cold” you almost cringe at how pathetic your voice sounds as it comes out of you. trying to hold back tears only resulted in a weak mumbled whisper, somehow worse than just turning around and sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.

“what's wrong?” he asks, and when he's answered with a long moment silence, he gently spins you around to be facing him. “are you okay? what's happened, love?”

love.

it probably isn't meant to, but his tone of voice feels almost mocking. the smartest, most rational part of your brain tells you you're probably just overthinking it, like everything else. but the emotional voice, the loudest one, is screaming he knows.

he knows what's wrong and he's making fun of you. he's trying to make you say it. he's trying to get you to admit you're in love with him.

but it's only when you feel his hands cup your cheeks, breaking you out of that train of thought and slightly cheering you up, that you come to the conclusion that you should probably leave. this is toxic, and you both know it.

the money you've spent on therapy over the past five months is being poured down the drain every second that you spend here. but then again, he's been paying you back in gifts and kisses and cuddles, and, probably most importantly to him, sex. that doesn't matter, though, because when it ends and you're left alone with the knowledge he doesn't love you, you feel somehow worse than before.

you hesitantly look up, and when you see his soft eyes roaming all over your face with a worried expression, you're almost convinced he loves you. his gaze feels so warm, you almost forget you're standing outside in the winter wearing only a shirt.

when he says your name in a whisper, in that gentle tone that made you feel like the love of his life, you're reminded of the truth. you're not.

and then it snaps. you want to be mad, you want to yell and hit and cry and give him all the reasons you hate him. but there aren't any. you can't be mad. he warned you about this, didn't he? he said it was just a casual thing, nothing else was going to happen, can't get too attached. it's your fault for taking it too far, isn't it?

so you just pull away and walk inside. you know he'll follow you. you drop off your half drunk tea cup in the sink and you walk to the bedroom. this isn't a conversation you can avoid, you know that, but the only reason you should have it out there in the cold is for your own suffering. and you're trying to have more self respect.

it's not long before you hear the expected soft knock on the bedroom door, and he doesn't wait for an answer before slowly pushing it open and sticking his head in. he meets your eyes and you nod, quietly letting – asking – him to come in.

“what's wrong, baby?”

“please, could you just- please stop calling me that.”

he's silent for a second, staring at you in slight shock, before moving to sit down in front of you in the bed. “okay. is there a reason you're suddenly pushing me away like this?”

you had a whole monologue scripted in your mind. you were going to say how this relationship is confusing, and you were going to put to practice everything your therapist said about setting boundaries and proper communication. but the words leave your mouth before you can even think about it.

“i love you.”

he's either a really good actor, or a really bad profiler, because his reaction convinced you that he actually had no idea. and also that that was the last thing he wanted to hear from you. “sweetheart, you know i can't-”

“i know. i know, i'm sorry. i'm just- i got too attached, and, and it's totally my fault, we agreed on- and it's okay. i'm stupid, i shouldn't have gotten attached, i'm too sensitive, whatever, i know. i'm just-” you let out an exhale as you rub your eyes, trying to slow down in order to keep the tears in “-i have to leave.”

he's quiet for a moment that feels like it will never end. your mind would usually start drifting off to the worst possible things that could happen, but you can't think of any scenario worse than him letting you leave. when he speaks again, though, there's a hint of desperation in his voice “no, you don't have to leave. please. stay. we’ll pretend this never happened. stay.”

that might actually be the worst outcome.

“no, i can't just- that's not how that works. i can't forget i love you. i can't stay here if you can’t love me back. i- i know what we agreed on, but you don't get to treat me like a girlfriend without making me one.”

“what, you want to just have sex and leave?”

“yes! yes, actually. that's what casual means. not- not dates, and gifts, and pet names, and keys, for fucks sake.”

he seems to notice the tears forming in your eyes, something you barely noticed yourself, and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest as his hand moves up and down your arms in a soothing manner that only makes you more upset because you know he doesn't mean it in the way you wish he did. you don't have the strength to pull away, though. not physically. you just can't bring yourself to pull away.

you bury your face in his chest and cry quietly, mumbling things like i'm sorry and i fucked it up and i love you while he presses kisses to the top of your head, whispering comforting words that you don't fully process due to your current state.

when your breathing slows down a bit, he pulls away to look at you and takes your face in his hands, wiping away the tears and saying softly “stay. please. don't leave. i need you. you- jesus, you can't- please don't leave. you helped getting me through the breakup, and… i can't love you the way you want me to, but… i do care for you. so much. please.”

you stand up, shaking your head as you put distance between the two of you — if you don't, you'll be crawling back into his arms in no time. “no, no, spencer, don't do that. you've been so confusing, and, i just- i can't do this. not like this. please. don't do that.”

another bit of silence. he looks down at the striped bedsheets where his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns, then up at you almost pleadingly “please, let's just go back to how it was before. casual. that was nice. we don't have to-”

“no, god, please, no, stop.” you sob as you wipe your face, looking around the room in an empty attempt at calming down “that wasn't casual, spencer. and it can't be. to me, at least. never. please, stop– stop it.”

his eyes move between you and the bed a few times, before settling on a spot on the bedsheets to stare at for what feels like forever before he gives in and nods, asking you to leave. you're both glad he's doing so, and disappointed he didn't fight for you a bit more.

you have to battle the urges to go up to him again and kiss him and sit on his lap and hold him close. instead, you put on a pair of sweatpants and grab your phone and jacket before walking out. you didn't forget about the clothes, you just didn't have the energy for packing. you know he'll do it. you wish he wouldn't.

when you get “home” after the longest cab ride of your life, you collapse onto your bed, and don't move for hours. it was already dark when you looked outside again, so you just went back to sleep.

all that goes through your mind is how sweet and caring he was to you, and you hate that. you hate that he had the guts to be such a loving man when he felt none of that love. you hate him.

and sure, in a few days, when he gets lonely, he'll call you again, and you'll go again. you'll stay a long time over there again, you'll forget today ever even happened. you'll fall in love with him all over again, and you'll be convinced he loves you too. you'll be the happiest you've ever been (for a while) again. you don't have that much self respect, after all. in a few days, you'll get to pretend to be his again.

but for now, you hate him.

[johanna-517]

"Special and unique"

(CHAPTER 8)

It was morning, and you felt the light rays of sunlight streaming in through the window. You turned over in the large bed, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. You didn't have to go to school today, so you planned to just stay in your room and rest peacefully for the rest of the day.

Even more so after what happened yesterday... It would definitely be best to spend the day in your room today.

As you tossed and turned in bed, you finally noticed something... Toti wasn't there. You always slept with him in your arms, never letting go of him while you slept. So... Why are your arms empty now? Where's your precious teddy bear?

You feel a pang of worry instantly, and you open your eyes quickly, looking beside you in the bed, searching for Toti. But... He's not there.

When you look up, your heart nearly stops at the state of your room.

Everything was... Destroyed.

All the crafts you had made yourself were completely ruined and scattered on the floor, all the drawings you had made over the months that you had on the walls were broken into several small pieces lying on the floor.

And above all... The little photographs you kept of your mother were... Completely destroyed too, broken into tiny pieces.

Instantly, you feel your eyes fill with tears. You can't help but tremble slightly, your mouth open in complete shock as you take in the scene; all your things were ruined, your room was a complete mess, and the precious photos of your mother that you treasured were now shattered.

"Why?..." you mumbled, your voice shaking as you slowly got out of bed, feeling your legs getting weaker and weaker as you walked towards the mess.

Countless tears fall from your eyes, one after another without stopping as your eyes remain open, fixed on the terrible scene.

This... Isn't it true? It can't be, no, no, no...

This can't be happening to you, of course. You don't deserve it, you don't deserve this, it's not fair. Surely this is just a very bad nightmare, right? Yes, it's just that... A nightmare.

Finally, your legs give out and you fall to your knees on the floor, without even blinking, you continue to stare at the scene.

All of the drawings and paper crafts you'd been doing for months, all the creations you'd made with your own hands, everything that gave your room color, was just... Completely destroyed.

'Why?' you ask yourself, over and over again, wondering why this had to happen, why, for you, weren't all the terrible things you've been through enough? Fate... Does it really have to be so cruel to you?

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you pick up the small fragments of your mother's photographs.

"M-mamá... Perdón, lo siento tanto, yo-... No quería que esto pasara, perdón, perdóname"/("M-Mom... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-... I didn't mean for this to happen, I'm sorry, forgive me.") You begged between sobs, picking up each little piece of the photograph one by one.

Your chest hurt so much, it's been a while since it hurt like this.

You loved your mother, you loved her, and you will love her forever, because she was everything to you. Even if she's gone, she can't leave you completely; you would never allow it. That's why, when you arrived here, you had brought as many photographs of your mother as you could, and that meant so much to you.

Because even if Mom wasn't by your side anymore, having photographs of her nearby made you feel as if she were, as if she were still by your side.

Whenever you felt down, you used to pick up one of your mother's photographs, trying to comfort yourself the way only she could. You wanted to feel that she listened to you, that she always would, that she truly... would never dare leave you alone in this world.

You were quite attached to those photographs, because they held the memory of your precious mother. Your fear of forgetting your mother's face was always eased by the photographs you had of her.

But now... Now these photographs are destroyed, it feels terrible.

This was one of the few things that made you feel better about your mother's impending absence, and now... It's all over.

When you collect all the small fragments of the photographs, you put them in a small box and set it aside.

Your mind goes blank for a moment, as tears continue to fall like waterfalls from your eyes.

But then, you remember... Toti, where is he?

You instantly jump up, walking quickly around the room, looking everywhere for the teddy bear.

It's not on the floor, it's not under the bed, it's not in the closet, it's not in any other piece of furniture. So, where's Toti?

A wave of anxiety fills your chest as you wonder if Toti is also broken like the rest of them.

No, that can't happen. Toti is too important to you. You can't let anything happen to him.

Without hesitation, you quickly leave your room, heading to the room of the person who caused all of this; Damian.

You run through the hallways, stopping in front of Damian's door. Without thinking, you open the door and walk in. Right now, you definitely weren't going to bother knocking.

Your eyes darken with anger as soon as you see Damian standing in the room. He's already awake. Of course he would be. After all, he had to get up really early to go and destroy everything in your room before you even woke up.

You don't say anything, instantly, you pounce on him, grabbing him tightly by the collar of his clothes.

"Tell me right now where you hid my teddy bear!" You yelled, demanding an answer as your eyes remained fixed on his.

"Oh, you're talking about that ugly teddy bear? Well, I don't know... Why would I know," he replied, looking away indifferently.

His indifferent attitude and response only make you boil over with anger even more, and before you can stop yourself, you slap Damian hard across the cheek. Of course, he instantly gets angry and attacks back, hitting you in the abdomen and making you instantly flinch.

It hurts... It definitely hurts, you're absolutely sure that the slap you gave him didn't hurt half as much as the hit he gave you back.

But, before you can say anything else, you look through the open door, outside in the hallway you manage to see Damián's pets, specifically, you manage to see Titus with Toti in his mouth.

Damian... He gave your teddy bear to his pets, as if it were a simple toy?

You freeze in realization, and without even thinking, you quickly run out of the room, ignoring the pain in your body, completely focused solely on saving Toti.

You had to fight with Damian's pets to get your stuffed animal back, you didn't care if they tried to bite or scratch you, it didn't matter as long as you could get Toti back.

Finally, after a struggle, you manage to get Titus to let go of your stuffed animal. You immediately grab Toti and quickly flee back to your room.

Once you reached your room, you walked in and slammed the door shut, letting yourself fall to the floor while keeping a tight grip on your precious stuffed companion.

Toti is fine... He's a little broken, but nothing too serious, luckily you managed to save him in time.

You try to ignore the way your body trembles... You really were that close to losing Toti. Besides, you're still pretty tense from everything that happened before.

Before you can start crying, you stop as soon as you spot something under the bed. You reach over and pick it up, and you realize... It was one of the many photos you had of your mother, but this one was completely untouched.

Your eyes definitely shine with relief, your body relaxing as you hold the photograph of your mother close to your chest. You were completely grateful for this. It seems fate isn't always so cruel to you. This time, not everything was ruined. Toti is fine, and you managed to preserve at least one of those precious photographs in perfect condition.

Probably when Damian destroyed the others this one fell and ended up on the floor, he didn't realize and that way he couldn't destroy that photo too.

Tears stream down your cheeks, but this time... You don't feel sad when you cry. Instead, you feel relieved, because even though Damian tried, he couldn't completely ruin you.

Along with relief, you feel determined, as you now definitely don't plan on letting Damian or anyone else dare try to ruin the things you hold dear. You'll never allow it.

A few days later, you literally begged Alfred for another room, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. Your current room was already somewhat far from the others, but it wasn't enough; you needed more distance, as much as possible.

So, you recently discovered a small room, quite secluded from the rest; you didn't even know this room existed. Perfect, this is just the room you need.

You don't mind the small size, you don't mind if the furniture here looks too old, or the layers of dust on the walls. You want to be here.

Alfred said that this was a room that had always been completely neglected in the mansion, as it was too small and far from the main rooms of the house.

Even though he said this room wouldn't be suitable for you, you didn't back down, not when you were determined to get it. You tried to look as sad as possible to instill pity, telling Alfred that you still felt bad about what Damian did to you, that you just wanted a space to feel safer, and that that place would be this small, remote room.

Luckily for you, Alfred quickly agreed, knowing that what Damian did in your room was completely wrong. And maybe the best thing for you really is to give you another room. So, he helped you, and the two of you started cleaning and organizing the room. Alfred even got some new furniture to put in your new room.

You were very excited, now you had a new room, you loved it, soon you took your things from your old room to bring them to the new one.

However, as you did so... A small idea struck you. So, you left some of the things you didn't need in your old room, making it seem as if it wasn't completely abandoned, as if it were still in use.

Why? Well, it was simple: you wanted Damian and the others (if they even knew which room was yours) to continue thinking that this was still your room. This way, no one would find out where you were, and you could enjoy your new little out-of-the-way room without anyone knowing.

Besides, since everyone seems so indifferent, you're sure they won't notice you've changed rooms anytime soon. They probably won't notice for years, right? You laugh softly to yourself, finally feeling calmer in your new room.

It's small... But it feels right. You like your new space, you feel calm and comfortable here. It doesn't matter that you literally have to walk until you're exhausted just to get to the kitchen, all because this room is actually quite far away, but you love it anyway.

It's been a few years, you were already thirteen years old, during these years everything remained the same from your own perspective. Bruce not having a second for you, Tim calling you a nuisance as soon as you get even an inch closer to him, Dick being the perfect older brother to everyone, but to you, he only has false empty kindness, without showing any real interest in you, Barbara and Cassandra indifferent to you, as always, Stephanie laughing a little whenever she sees you, Jason doesn't talk to you either, in fact, you haven't exchanged a single word with him during this time, and Damian? Well, it's simple, he's still as annoying as ever, repeating over and over again how weak and pathetic you are, however, you have never responded to Damian's comments again, you just nod slightly as if you heard him and as if he was right, you know that fighting is pointless, and you learned your lesson, fighting with him only brings more problems, so you decide not to provoke him.

And of course you know... You know they usually watch movies together every weekend. You know Dick sometimes takes Damian, Tim, and Jason out to eat at a restaurant in the city, or just to hang out. You know Stephanie, Barbara, and Cassandra have "girls' nights" out every now and then, just hanging out happily. You know Bruce also arranges to spend time with them from time to time.

And even more importantly, you know that you have never been and never will be included in their family plans.

You always see them from afar, acting like a real family, where they support each other, and where you don't exist.

But it's okay, you always told yourself that you don't need them, you don't need to be part of their stupid 'happy family', because you already have your own family, your real family, your mother, your aunt and your cousins.

About that, there's something that's been really worrying you. Recently, for a few weeks now, you've simply stopped receiving calls from your aunt and cousins. At first, they used to call you at least once a week, but now... It's been several weeks, and they haven't called you even once.

Why? Did something happen? They're having problems? Or maybe... They've just stopped calling you on purpose? No, of course not. You push that thought away instantly. They're not going to abandon you, they never would, they're your family.

You calmed yourself down, trying to think that your Aunt Lidia was probably just very busy, and your cousins too. They'll call you when they have time. You don't need to worry.

❦: (Here's chapter 8, sorry for the delay. I hope you liked it :D).

✯/Tag list: @hopingtoclearmedschool @simpingpandas @ryuushou @ninihrtss @soulsire @artistwithcreativeburnout @the-dumber-scaramouche @khalinda-ev @sillysealsies @moon0goddess @bunniotomia @twismare @arwenyukiamoto @wizzerreblogs @ironsaladwitch @luckyangelballoon @burningkittenprince @wisefuncherryblossom

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 7

Reasons to Hate Gotham City, New Jersey An Itemized list by Danny Fenton

Damian and Bruce Wayne (and the rest of their brood)

No stars to be seen

The Joker

A fuckton of pollution in the air

A fuckton of pollution in the water

Arkham Asylum and it's revolving door

Seriously, how do they survive with so little light?!

The current Robin and Batman (and the rest of their flock)

The Rogues Gallery (minus Harley Quinn)

Bat Burger

Wayne Enterprises

Can't go more than 10 feet without a getting mugged

Guns.

Sidewalks should not be that color

Where the hell is all the plant life?!

Everywhere that isn't Robinson Park

Crime Alley

Red Hood

The amount of homeless people, specifically kids

Bruce has the money, so why the hell are there still people living on the streets!?

When he next woke up, he was alone. Well, mostly. The other patrons in the Bat Burger weren't there with him, but he could tell that Jason was somewhere near-ish-by.

He didn't open his eyes, nor did his unneeded breathing change past his resting rate. By sound alone, he knew three of the walls were cement, as well as the floor and ceiling. The last one was either bullet-proof glass or metal bars. The smell in the cell hinted at the former rather than the latter.

It was storming outside, he could tell, proving that he wasn't underground. All of the buildings in Gotham, minus skyscrapers and warehouses, were made of brick, so he probably wasn't in Gotham Proper anymore.

A buzzer went off somewhere down the hall and Danny suddenly had a horrible inkling as to where he and Jason were being kept.

"Danny?" Jason whispered from the cell immediately next to his own. "You there?"

He made just the right amount of noise when moving to alert Jason before he spoke. "Right here. You have an idea of where we are?"

A beat. "Yeah," he said quietly, almost nervous, "You?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"We've been out for about three hours, I think." Jason's voice was still as quiet as he could make it while having Danny still be able to hear him. "I didn't manage to hit my panic button before it was frozen over, but three hours should be long enough for Alfred to realize something's wrong. The others'll-"

"No!" Danny growled, "We're getting out of here without the others' help."

"How do you plan to do that?" His voice wasn't condescending like he was half expecting. It was steady, still quiet, and patient.

He was waiting for him to propose a plan, Danny realized. "They really didn't tell you a thing about me, did they?"

Jason hummed. "Well, Talia said that you were to be treated like a civilian-"

Danny scoffed, "Yeah, well, I was never a civilian in the first place. I may be younger than Damian-"

"I'm sorry," he spluttered, "'Younger'?"

Danny ignored him, "-but I have just as much, if not more, fighting experience than him. Not to mention the superpowers!"

"The one's you got from dying," Jason reminded himself, "Right. So, what's the plan, ghost boy?"

Danny blinked. "'Plan'?"

"You do have a plan, right?" A beat. "Right?"

"Just follow my lead."

"You don't have a fucking plan?!"

"I what universe would I have a plan for this exact scenario or any like it? Who do you think I am, Batman?!"

"Fair," Jason conceded, "How are we gonna get out of here? It's Arkham fucking Asylum!"

Danny raised his eyebrow, fully aware that Jason couldn't see him. "You don't have the layout of this place memorized? I thought you guys locked people up in here all the time?"

"We send them here. B keeps us far away from the island itself."

"Hm," Danny shrugged, "Skill issue."

"Excuse me?"

Danny stood and started looking around his cell. Like he clocked, the wall to the hall was modified glass with no obvious weak points. The floor, ceiling, and three walls were all smooth cement, painted with some kind of frost-like gloss that made them cold to the touch. There was a single cot with a thread-bare blanket and no pillow. A single LED light in the middle of the ceiling lit up the box, and there was a vent in the far corner, bolted to the wall with so many screws it was ridiculous, and too small for probably even Damian to fit through.

"Then vents on the inner-most cells don't lead directly outside," he said to himself, "But I can hear the river." Louder, he said to Jason, "We're in the outer-most cell-block."

"How the hell do you- You have the layout of this place memorized?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

And that was the question, wasn't it? "Just in case I ever needed to break out." Or in.

Jason huffed and began pacing his cell. "I'm not gonna ask. I wanna know, but I'm not gonna ask."

Danny shrugged. Fine with him.

Jason cam back to the corner of their shared wall and the glass panes. "How do you plan to get out of here? The vents are too small."

"Well, how do your Rogues normally get out?"

"Depends on who we're talkin' about. Some blow up a few walls, some have their goons already working here, others pay off the guards. Take your pick."

Danny thought for a moment. "Unfortunately, none of those will work for us, though blowing up a few walls sounds like a lot of fun."

"Yeah, until someone has to clean up the mess." He could hear the smile in his voice.

"You want to do this the easy way or the long way?"

"There's an easy way?"

Danny let his intangibility wash over him and stuck his head through their shared wall. "Ghost, remember?"

Jason laughed. "And the long way?"

"Find out what your two Rogues are planning, wait for the others to come to save the day, and then escape on our own anyway."

Jason raised his eyebrow. "Which do you wanna do?"

"I kinda wanna explore this place."

"Secret third option?"

"Secret third option."

Part 9

[alyssumlovesthecosmere]

So, the other day, Crash Course uploaded a video in their Religions series, about Judaism. Now, I haven't watched any video other than this one, but if this one is any metric to measure by.... well, it's bad. Really bad.

To start, the introduction starts with "shabbat toothbrushes", where John Green describes to us how (some) jews will brush their teeth on shabbat, while ensuring to not break any of the melachot, or prohibited actions. This, in my opinion, as an orthodox jew, is.... quite a framing to start with. Especially since immediately after that introduction, John Green let's us know that there are other jews! who don't do this! and just... sir, I'm an orthodox jew. Sure, I don't do follow that rule on the shabbat- sorry, the sabbath which you then explain is the shabbat to jews (the word Sabbath comes from the hebrew Shabbat), but I follow a lot of rules that folks find strange! And I do not appreciate a video talking about jews sidelining orthodox jews. Framing the video in that way is clearly an attempt to make Jews seem more "mainstream", but it erases, estranges, and (this happens more later on) villifies orthodox jews. Which isn't fair.

But we just started this 13 minute video. At this point last night, I sighed and figured this was going to be just your regular old "Orthodox Jews are strange and bad" sort of video, and resigned myself to that. And then I looked at the sections of the video. One of which included Zionism in it. And I immediately got more worried, because John and Hank donated through Project For Awesome to UNWRA which are.... very linked to Hamas, including there being evidence of UNWRA employees participating in the Oct. 7th Massacre. But okay. Maybe this video will be fine.

Spoiler alert: It wasn't. It was so incredibly bad. John Green admits at the start of the video that Judaism is complex, great! Now explain tha complexity correctly! no. So he starts off his history with... Ya'akov Avinu, sorry- Jacob. Who's a descendant of Avraham Avinu, sorry- Abraham (John uses the english names and not the hebrew one and it just bothers me). Which like... no, Jewish history starts with Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. In addition, a large majority of his sources are non jewish sources which is just. Why. There are so many jewish sources on Judaism!

As this is getting long, I'm gonna put a tl;dr here and then a read more cut. The tl;dr is this - the video is a horrendously western view of Judaism video, that seems to be written by non-jews who don't have any expertise in Judaism. It is filled with misrepresentation of jews, especially religious ones, is severely lacking pretty much all of jewish history, doesn't mention MENA/SWANA jews at all, and is quite frankly a disappointment. I'm mad and sad and upset and most of all disappointed with crash course for creating this video.

Still with me? great. I'm wordy and I have twelve minutes of this video to go through still. To make this a bit more organized, I'm gonna go according to the sections that John Green himself gave, and give a summary of what he said and what is wrong or misrepresented there.

The Many Versions of Judaism (aka, somehow not our history nor our story) there are a few things wrong/upsetting here. First off, as I said above, the fact that he uses the English names. Second off, the fact that he, bafflingly, starts the story with Ya'akov getting the name Yisrael, aka when Ya'akov fights with the angel. John then takes this to explain that Jews today still wrestle with Hashem in our own way, but in a... shall I say tumblr style reductionist way. Y'know, the "jews shake lemon at gd angrily behind a denny's" way. This chapter is the only one that will ever mention the ancient Israelites, and never the tie to the land of Israel itself. In addition to this, he describes Judaism as monotheistic, but that "half of religious jews today believe in some other spiritual force, and not the gd of the Hebrew Bible" which had me going what in the what. Just. No. like, sure, i'm a vaguely agnostic-atheist religious jew and uh, no? And I found his source, and well, if I had to guess - the jews who responded assumed that the god they were being asked about was the one in the xtian bible - and so answered no, while John assumed said jews meant the gd of the tanakh, aka hashem. Third, his "devil's advocate" scene is just. Once again, putting down Orthodox Jews, and compares without change Jewish Religious Institutions with Xtian ones. To quote "for a lot of jews, it's more about action than faith", I'd argue, personally, that that line is correct for most jews, as our religion is not really one of belief (orthodoxy) but of action (orthopraxy). And also, I'll paraphrase "many jewish people consider following Jewish law to be the most important thing" yes! yes we do! and not just many, most, that's! the whole! shtick! for us!! (and yes i'm aware this is a simplification). He also manages to vaguely describe Judaism as an ethnicity, and explain that some Jews are connected to the ancestral history (without explaining what that is, no connection to Israel here no sirree), which I guess is fine-ish? (it does not)

The Written Torah So here he starts off with saying that we'll focus on the torah and not the tanakh, as the torah is how we jews conceptualize our relationship to gd and each other. Except that... we also use the rest of the Tanakh for that! (minor kudos to him for saying that the tanakh was written by the ancient israelites. Just no mention of why there were ancient israelites and then we had to come back). The torah gives us most of our rules, but the tanakh expands on them, and teaches us how we choose to treat hashem, how we treat each other. When Jews say the written torah, we do oftentimes also mean the rest of the tanakh. Frankly, going through his sources, I can't figure out what source he used for this claim, except that he uses a lot of non-jewish sources (like the britannica), and very few Jewish ones which is just... why, you can clearly see these jewish sources exist, why not use them? I understand that this is meant to be lighthearted, but he compares the five books of the torah to seasons of friends, which is kinda eeeh. And added to that, his descriptor for bamidbar or numbers is "the ancient israelites wander and suffer through the wilderness" (paraphrased). First off, it was the desert, and second off this is exactly where in the torah we get all of the mitzvot and how to treat each other and hashem. This is it!! why name the book/"season" wrong?? He then continues and talks about how the themes of exile and return are common in the torah, and continue to resonate today, and yet doesn't... explain... the history of us being exiled. Instead, we take a tangent into antisemitism, specifically the plague related kind. Which... fine, I know he's got a liking for that aspect of history, but there's so much more. Of course, he also mentions that the Pope was one of the influential people who pushed back against it and... just... sigh. We're talking the catholic church here. The same catholic church WHO BLAMED JEWS FOR KILLING JESUS TILL THE NINETEEN SIXTIES. If the pope pushed back against it, it was because us jews had more value alive, not because he thought we had inherent value as people. Of course, since we're talking antisemitism, John only talks about xtian antisemitism. The "happy dhimmi" myth is alive and kicking in this video, as there is absolutely no mention of antisemitism within the non-western world. IN ADDITION, by framing the antisemitism the way he did - that the "dumb europeans" attacked the jews but their religious leaders were against it, John inadvertently erases antisemitism by non religious people, and by religious leaders. Both of which are and were alive and well.

Zionism (aka, I had to put this in here otherwise the tankies would yell at me, and I made a mess of it) And then we have this digression, which makes zero sense in the context of the story John is attempting to tell, into Zionism. There is no reason for it, and if it had to be in the video, it should have, quite frankly, gone in at the end. But that is only the start of the woes that I have to say on this section. To start, the amount of sources here are negligeble as compared to the other sections (note the numbers, all previous sources were for the other two sections)

48. Encyclopaedia Britannica | Zionism 49. University of Michigan | Zionism  50. Ben-Israel, Hedva. “Zionism and European Nationalisms: Comparative Aspects.” Israel Studies 8, no. 1 (2003): 91–104. 51. Ghanem, As’ad. “Israel’s Second-Class Citizens: Arabs in Israel and the Struggle for Equal Rights.” Foreign Affairs 95, no. 4 (2016): 37–42. 52. Halpern, Ben (2004) [1990]. "The Rise and Reception of Zionism in the Nineteenth Century". In Goldscheider, Calvin; Neusner, Jacob (eds.). Social Foundations of Judaism (2nd ed.). Eugene, Or: Wipf and Stock Publ. pp. 94–113. 53. American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise| Zionism: Anti-Zionism Among Jews

[copied from the source sheet]

I haven't read the sources, so I'm not going to talk about them, but the fact that only half of the sources seem to have been written by jews is... not great. At all. And then there's how John introduces and talks about the topic. John compares the themes of exile and return in the Torah and Tanakh to the narrative told by Zionists, and mentions Zionism being a political movement. All of this is correct. However, what John is very obviously missing here is the history of Jews within the land of Israel. He talks about how we wanted a state for Jews run by Jews, but doesn't explain that we wanted it in the land where we came from, a land where we have mitzvot, commandments, that are specific to it. A land that our holidays and calendar center. The fact that this is missing is one of the glaring issues in the whole video. He also mentions that Zionism views Judaism as a nationality, which is true. Judaism is viewed as a nationality in the modern sense through Zionism, but it's also a nationality, or nation, in the older sense, regardless of Zionism. In addition to that, while Zionism is the idea of having a Jewish run state for Jews, it does not preclude the existence of other, nonjewish, people in this state. Which is important for the next bit. He then adds that, quote "this is complicated for lots of geopolitical reasons, but suffice it to say, Jewish people are not the only people with roots or a current presence in the modern state of Israel." Which, I guess does mention our roots in the land, but it also completely flattens the whole story into, what feels to me, "Jews Zionists bad for wanting a state because there are other people". He then mentions the Druze and Xtian and Muslim Palestinians, which is fair but also why specifically the Druze? And if the Druze, why not also the Bedouin? Both are minority groups within Israel, and if you want to talk about minority groups, the Bedouin are equally as important for this discussion! (another friend later pointed out that the likely reason is that the pbs source John uses mentions the Druze (but as muslims, and not as their own religious group which. sigh. Druze are not Muslim), but not the Bedouin. And of course, we get a "not all jews support the zionist movement, but many do" yeah. a huge womping majority. For a reason. At the end of this section he says you can find "much much more" on the topic in the sources and I just have to raise an eyebrow, because I do not count these 6 sources as "much much more" information.

Then, finally, we're off of this ill-placed and wrongly done section, and back to actual religion things. You know. Like how John had said we'd be talking about.

The Oral Torah and the Talmud We start off strong, with an accurate description as to what exactly is the Oral Torah, and what its place within Jewish society and Judaism is. And then... John tells us that there are "two guys who started it". Huh? Who? Hillel and Shammai of course! what. so, to explain to all of you who have somehow read till here and don't know, Hillel and Shammai are just one pair in a long lineage of those who were, according to tradition, in charge of the oral torah. Even more so, they weren't the first in their generation of pairs! (this is the time known as the Zugot, or pairs). Hillel and Shammai are the seventh generation in those who lived during the time of the mishna being slowly worked on and getting codified, and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was the one who did all of the codification, FIVE GENERATIONS AND A TEMPLE COLLAPSE AFTER THEM. So I chose to go into the sources to figure this one out, because frankly I'm baffled. And as far as I can tell, this comes from the encyclopedia britannica (again, why) saying that Hillel and Shammai were the last of the Zugot and that they taught the Tanaim (those who ended up writing the mishna), but just. What. Why. John then continues on to explain who Hillel and Shammai are, describing them as "Shammai, the rules are rules type" and "Hillel, the gentle, caring, impossible to anger type". I just- again with the putting down of one side (the stricter side) for the not so strict side. In addition to the fact that that isn't even an accurate description. It would be more accurate to describe the divide and debate between Hillel and Shammai as realistic and unrealistic. Hillel's school of thought, also known as Beit Hillel, worked with and around torah with the understanding that those who will be following it are people, and will make mistakes and need leniency. Shammai's school of thought, known as Beit Shammai, on the other hand, wanted people to strive to following the Torah in the most idealistic way. We follow Beit Hillel nowadays because they were better at taking day-to-day realities into account, but we remember Beit Shammai's halacha because we want to be able to fulfill our mitzvot in that way, and if human life didn't get in the way, we would do so. John Green stop putting those who keep stricter (or more idealistic) halacha as "bad" challange: level impossible. John Green then says, as is correct, that at around 200ce we started writing things down, but once again, he neglects to mention why we felt we needed to shift from oral to written (the answer is the Romans wanted us no longer jewish and we had lost our Temple and were going to be expelled from our holy land again, see, that's two sentences, is that so hard to say?) John Green then correctly explains that they way the Talmud was written down was by layers upon layers, "literally circling each other" however, that's only one portion of the halachic debate, and frankly, the Talmud is definitely not the central rabbinic text today. That's the Shulchan Aruch, which is based off of the Talmud, but collates all of Halachic debate into a masterpiece of a lot of books. It, too, has the layers upon layers thing, because why waste good paper space??? There are more mistakes here, in understanding that the Talmud is The Central Halachic thing, which again - look above I corrected it. I'll also happily admit that he's correct in saying that when we refer to the torah we mean both the written and oral ones. But we still have two sections to go, and I am still as wordy as ever.

Branches of Judaism Here is where I started to go from mildly annoyed at how he treats orthodox jews, to flat out mad. See, instead of explaining the differences between branches in a neutral way, John brings up differences that will make people feel things. He gives examples of questions - can women be rabbis - which will have listeners biased towards those communities that allow it (and yes, it is an issue within orthodox communities, but guess what! these communities are also trying to work within their framework of halacha for women's equality), or "can you push an elevator button on shabbat using electricity when the law says to refrain from creating fires and sparks on that day", which is an extreme oversimplification of the whole argument and discussion about electricity on shabbat, which will lead viewers to, once again, view those who do those things as backward, strange, and weird. And trust me, there are so many other halachic questions that can be used (such as can one heat food on shabbat, considering fire and heat, or how you deal with the dietary laws of kashrut), and idk. Maybe at this point I'm nitpicking, but as an orthodox not exactly a woman, it bothers me! It alienates me from the discussion, and it's really frustrating. He comments that the options you can choose are "unwavering, flexible, or somewhere in between", which to me shows a complete lack of understanding of what the orthodox framework of working with halacha is (too long; don't have time to explain - we can't strictly disagree with stuff but we can slowly push for change that may eventually end up disagreeing with something or another). He then explains Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Judaism. His way of explaining is, while technically correct, missing an understanding of how we different streams of Judaism practice. John describes the differences as ones of strictness vs openness, lack of change vs flexibility. In reality, the difference between the streams is one of precedence. How much weight do we put on something that was written 2000 years ago? How much weight does our current way of living have? Orthodox Judaism will answer that what was written all that time ago has significantly more weight, that they knew more about halacha than we do, to Reform halacha, which takes halachic rulings from 2000 years ago under advisement, but sees how much the world has changed, and makes the rulings accordingly. I won't touch on his specific examples, and suffice it to say that they were in line with what I said earlier about his examples. They're there to make you feel something about these strange jews he's talking about, and that something is not always particularly nice, especially to Orthodox Jews. He then mentions a few other options, which is fine (though I wish he expanded on the "people who say 'I'm Jewish' but don't identify with any particular branch" as, with everything going on, and his sorely lacking explanation in how Judaism and conversion works, may lead to people deciding to just say they're jewish). After that he says that there "are jewish atheists". Yes. There are also orthodox jewish atheists, I thought we covered the fact that Judaism prefers action over belief at the start? I'm confused as to why he felt the need to add that here near the end of the video.

Next, he talks about the different physical branches of Judaism, and mentions that due to persecution we got to many different places. Of course, he once again neglects to mention the ur-persecution, or ur-reason that we are so spread out - our expulsion from Israel, and the beginning of the Jewish Diaspora (he mentions the Diaspora by name, but not the first reason for it). It's a glaring miss, but not as glaring as what is to come. He then talks about three diasporic communities, and I quote "...unique communities emerged in each new location: Ashkenazi Jews in Eastern Europe, Sephardic Jews in Spain and Portugal, and Beta Israel in Eithiopia". One nitpick and one incredibly important correction. Ashkenazi Jews were originally from ashkenaz, ie France and Germany and eventually got to Eastern Europe as well - the name of the general European tradition is, however, Ashkenaz. The second, and more pressing issue, is that he says that Sephardic Jews are in Spain and Portugal. Those communities haven't been there in a Hot Minute, ie since the Spanish Inquistion. They've been in the SWANA or MENA region, with some exceptions for some Dutch, American, and British Jews. I had to look at his sources, because are you kidding me. Both (all three, if we include Beta Israel) sources are from britannica. Again. My first instinct was that maybe the issue was with the source! I was wrong.

The source for Ashkenazi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Ashkenazi, member of the Jews who lived in the Rhineland valley and in neighbouring France before their migration eastward to Slavic lands (e.g., Poland, Lithuania, Russia) after the Crusades (11th–13th century) and their descendants. After the 17th-century persecutions in eastern Europe, large numbers of these Jews resettled in western Europe, where they assimilated, as they had done in eastern Europe, with other Jewish communities. In time, all Jews who had adopted the “German rite” synagogue ritual were referred to as Ashkenazim to distinguish them from Sephardic (Spanish rite) Jews. Ashkenazim differ from Sephardim in their pronunciation of Hebrew, in cultural traditions, in synagogue cantillation (chanting), in their widespread use of Yiddish (until the 20th century), and especially in synagogue liturgy. Today Ashkenazim constitute more than 80 percent of all the Jews in the world, vastly outnumbering Sephardic Jews. In the early 21st century, Ashkenazic Jews numbered about 11 million. In Israel the numbers of Ashkenazim and Sephardim are roughly equal, and the chief rabbinate has both an Ashkenazic and a Sephardic chief rabbi on equal footing. All Reform and Conservative Jewish congregations belong to the Ashkenazic tradition

As you can see, britannica does in fact mention that Ashkenazi Jews were first in the Rhineland valley (germany) and france, and later moved to Eastern Europe. I have some nitpicking on that as what I said doesn't match but regardless. Ashkenazi Jews aren't in Ashkenaz according to John, they are in Eastern Europe

The source for Sephardi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Sephardi, member or descendant of the Jews who lived in Spain and Portugal from at least the later centuries of the Roman Empire until their persecution and mass expulsion from those countries in the last decades of the 15th century. The Sephardim initially fled to North Africa and other parts of the Ottoman Empire, and many of these eventually settled in such countries as France, Holland, England, Italy, and the Balkans. Salonika (Thessaloníki) in Macedonia and the city of Amsterdam became major sites of Sephardic settlement. The transplanted Sephardim largely retained their native Judeo-Spanish language (Ladino), literature, and customs. They became noted for their cultural and intellectual achievements within the Mediterranean and northern European Jewish communities. In religious practice, the Sephardim differ from the Ashkenazim (German-rite Jews) in many ritual customs, but these reflect a difference in traditional expression rather than a difference in sect. Of the estimated 1.5 million Sephardic Jews worldwide in the early 21st century (far fewer than the Ashkenazim), the largest number were residing in the state of Israel. The chief rabbinate of Israel has both a Sephardic and an Ashkenazi chief rabbi. The designation Sephardim is frequently used to signify North African Jews and others who, though having no ancestral ties to Spain, have been influenced by Sephardic traditions, but the term Mizrahim is perhaps more properly applied.

As you can also see, the britannica also mentions that Sephardi talks about North African Jews. What is that? SWANA Jews exist? and experienced persecution? Couldn't be. Surely all Jews are actually European and are colonizers in the land of palestine (heavy sarcasm and cynicism). I've got to say, I find the fact that using where Jews ended up for Ashkenazi Jews, and where they "originated" (in quotation due to the fact that only the name originated from there) for Sephardi Jews rather disingenuous, as the story being told erases the existence of SWANA jews to an upsetting and worrying degree.

Review and Credits Almost done. Just have to get through the review. John finishes up the story with something that I have mixed feelings about. He describes Judaism as a religion, but that being Jewish doesn't require a religious identity. I find the but annoying. It's not "judaism is a religion but doesn't have to be", it's "judaism is a religion and a people, and a culture, etc etc". Judaism is older than the concept of religion, we're a people, who can also have a set of belief and behaviour, but not doing them does not preclude you from being part of the family (unless, of course, you actively leave the family but that is a nuance not for here). The rest of his review is fine in my opinion. And now, the credits, which have a list of names that don't seem to be Jewish, but I can't find that about all of them (i know at least one of the people in charge of information for either this video or the series in general is definitely not Jewish)

I don’t know how to finish this, other than… Do better, Crash Course, do better @sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog.

[megalony]

Fright Night

This is my Halloween Evan Buckley imagine, which I have written as part of the Call Me Dad series.

It's been a while since I wrote this series, but I want this to stand as the next part in the series rather than a spin-off.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Call Me Dad masterlist

Summary: Evan isn't too happy that he has to work Halloween and can't take the kids out. But his day goes from bad to worse when the team are called to an incident, and his family are involved.

(Season 8 spoilers)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you working it this year?" The apprehension in (Y/n)'s voice was paramount and when she looked over her shoulder at her husband, she watched his expression change.

Evan's lips rolled together and the deep breath he took told (Y/n) he didn't really want to give her the answer to that question.

She nodded to his wordless response and turned to get something from the fridge. She had a feeling Evan would be working, he usually was. Holidays and bank holidays were busy nights for the emergency services and that meant not many people could have the shift off. First come, first serve and even then, not everyone got lucky. Sometimes no one was allowed off, it just depended on the situation at the time.

"Baby, I'm sorry-"

"It doesn't matter, I was only asking." (Y/n) shrugged and shook her head while her back was still to him. It was easier to brush things off and try to carry on if she didn't have to look at Evan's saddened expression. The sympathy in his eyes always broke her down and made her relent.

(Y/n) knew it wasn't Evan's fault. He worked Christmas last year because they had been short-staffed and so Eddie could be home with Chris. He worked New Year because that was always a date he put his name down for as they didn't really celebrate it. And he had even had to work (Y/n)'s birthday this year because he couldn't find anyone to swap the shift with him.

She didn't mind. As long as he could try and get the kid's birthdays off, (Y/n) would take everything in her stride. She had begged him to try and ask for Christmas off this year and ask early because it wasn't fair on the kids if he had to work again and they wouldn't see him all day.

But this was the same. This was Halloween, when the kids loved to dress up and go out and Evan always dressed up with them. They all loved this holiday but now it meant Evan wouldn't be able to help the kids get dressed or see them go out trick or treating.

"Baby please…"

When Evan's hand found her arm, (Y/n) shut the fridge and turned round so she was facing him. She let him nudge her back until her hips were pressed into the counter and he was blocking her in with no escape.

Both his hands found her hips and his head tilted to one side, showing off all the sorrow and sympathy hidden within those blue eyes. He leaned closer until their temples were touching and (Y/n) folded her arms over her chest, resting them on her bump.

"I asked, but Hen's already got it off to be with Mara and we're gonna be busy." Evan knew it wasn't an excuse and he wasn't trying to put any blame on anyone else.

He was a little upset that Hen got to have the day off. He understood it was Mara's first Halloween with them, but it wasn't like she was the only one with kids. Eddie had Chris, and he was having to work. Evan had three kids and now he was having to work too.

He just hoped Hen hadn't already asked for Christmas this year with the same reasoning that it would be Mara's first Christmas with them. Evan wasn't missing out on another Christmas with his kids, especially not when (Y/n) would be eight months pregnant by Christmas. He wasn't working and leaving her to do everything and look after the kids on her own.

"Evan, I get it. I just- Maddie's working too, I've gotta take the kids by myself. But I'll make it work."

Maddie was involved with the kids, they were closer to her than to their grandparents and whenever she was off she would take them out. And on holidays like this she would try and help look after them. But Maddie was working Halloween at dispatch this year.

It meant (Y/n) was going to be trailing the streets with all three kids while also supposed to be taking things easy after the placental abruption. And she wouldn't complain. She wasn't going to tell the kids they couldn't go out because that wasn't fair, she had simply hoped Evan might be off to come with them this year.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry baby, really I am."

When Evan pressed his lips to the side of her temple, (Y/n) could feel her resolve fading away. Her arms uncrossed and her hands moved to grip his shoulders while she tilted her head forward into his chest.

"I wanted to be home with you, you're not meant to be doing too much." His lips stayed meshed against her temple while his hands squeezed her hips and moved round to cup her stomach.

Evan felt bad. He felt like he was always leaving (Y/n) to do everything on her own and he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to be working and be away from the kids during the celebrations like this and miss seeing them dressing up and going out. And he didn't want to be away from (Y/n) when she hadn't been well and might need him.

"We're doing a scare maze at the station this year, I'll bring the kids down to see it and they can get some sweets and pictures. Then at least I can tell them they can't go out for long trick or treating."

The team were excited to be able to dress up the station and do some scary events for the community. Evan could bring the kids down before the public came to see, that way they could look around and Josie and Cole wouldn't get too frightened. And they could get some sweets and look around, and they wouldn't be too annoyed if Evan told them they were only allowed to go out for an hour trick or treating. So it wasn't too much for (Y/n).

"Thank you."

"Oh, and who do we have here?" Bobby folded his arms over his chest and stepped away from the scare maze the team had constructed in just a few hours. He moved the cape that was hanging over his arms so it flapped behind his shoulders and smiled as he watched Evan walk into the station.

He had helped set the maze up earlier and then went to get the kids so he could bring them down for a while.

"You must be the Devil," He crouched down so he was in front of Josie, admiring the costume she had on which looked very cute.

She had a red top on, a sparkly black tutu, black and red striped tights and a tail attached to her tutu. And in her hand she had a small plastic red pitch fork. Her hair was tied up in a pony tail and she had some red horns stuck onto the headband she was wearing. The outfit looked very sweet yet cunning at the same time and the cheeky frin on her face made it all match perfectly.

Josie nodded enthusiastically before she looked Bobby up and down. "Dracula?" She murmured to which he nodded and let her rush over to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him.

"And who's this?"

"He's a ghost." Josie stayed tucked into Bobby's arm but she turned to face her little brother who was glued into Evan's side.

Cole had white face paint on with black circles painted around his eyes and he had an old white sheet draped over his white pyjamas with a circle cut out in the middle so his face could pop through. It was plain and simple but when he flapped his arms at his sides beneath the sheet, he looked the part.

The team had gotten to know Evan's kids, especially Chimney and Eddie since the kids now called Chimney their uncle and they thought of Eddie and Chris as family too. They all knew Cole barely spoke and he would cling to his parents for security and safety.

The four year old stayed quiet but he managed a bright smile when Evan held his hand and let him lean into his leg.

Bobby pushed up to his feet but let Josie take his hand and stick to his side and he grinned at Evan while he looked for the eldest Buckley child.

James was a few paces behind, taking in the surroundings and how different the station looked. It was like they had walked into an escape room rather than a fire house. He loved it. He tilted his head back to look up at the decorations hanging from the beams above them.

But when his foot caught on the table beside him, he stumbled and felt his dad quickly reaching out to grab his upper arm.

"Glasses on." Evan muttered with half a smile pulling at his lips as James stood at his side with a huff and his eyes cast on the floor.

"What kind of mummy wears glasses?"

"The kind who can't see without them." Evan retorted with a knowing look. James had decided he wanted to be a mummy this year, but Evan knew it was because his ribs were still broken and he was feeling down about it.

He had bandages bound around his chest to bind his ribs and help keep them in place and feel a bit better. So James decided he may as well go with the theme and be an Egyptian mummy. (Y/n) had helped him fray and dye some old bandage rolls from the station and cover them with dust and little bits of sand to make the outfit work.

"Do you wanna be the first ones to test out the maze?" Bobby pointed behind him to the start of the maze which had three main sections, and then at the end there would be a bowl of sweets for them to dip into.

"Can we?" James looked from Bobby up to his dad who smiled and nudged him forwards.

"Go ahead, but don't take all the sweets at the end please."

Evan watched James take Josie's hand and let her drag him towards the beginning of the maze and he couldn't help the small chuckle that left his lips. It was going to be Josie dragging James around the maze, and if the eldest didn't put his glasses on, he wouldn't really be scared because he wouldn't know what he was looking at.

"He won't see without his glasses, so he won't be frightened." He muttered softly as he looked over at Bobby. He watched his captain curiously as Bobby looked him up and down and took in his appearance.

"Didn't you have a 'stache?"

Evan's face broke out into a grin when he watched Bobby point to his upper lip. Evan had dressed as a cowboy, simple jeans and plaid shirt and a cowboy hat to finish the look. But Bobby distinctly remembered Evan had on a fake, bushy moustache earlier before he went to get the kids.

"Someone ripped it off." His eyes darted down to Cole who was none the wiser, stood drifting in his own little world for the time being.

Evan had indeed worn the fake moustache earlier, and James had found it highly amusing, as did Josie. But as soon as he picked Cole up and gave him a kiss, the four year old tore it from his face and chucked it on the floor. He didn't like it. He wasn't used to seeing his dad with any sort of facial hair and it had disgruntled him.

"Do you want to take a look with me?" Evan wasn't so sure Cole would want to go in, he was scared easily. But if he knew no one else but his siblings were in there and he went in with his dad, he might like to look around. He was very sensory and always loved looking at decorations for Halloween and Christmas.

Cole nodded but instead of walking towards the entrance, he twisted to look up at Evan and held his arms out expectingly.

He didn't like walking, he always wanted to be carried no matter where they were or where they were going. Evan suspected it was a sensory and comfort thing, his boy felt safe when he was being carried around.

Leaning down, Evan scooped Cole up into his arms and settled his little ghost on his hip. He kissed his temple and walked ahead to the maze where Bobby moved the curtain so they could walk inside. The beginning was fairly simple. Black and purple drapes everywhere and some glow in the dark footprints on the floor along with a few traces of fake blood splattered about.

When they walked into the next room, there was a table set up with fake equipment like needles, scalpels, scissors and a fake, broken bone saw. Everything was layered in fake blood and illuminescent paint to make it glow in the dim lighting.

And stood there in the corner was Hen with a wig that was sparking off in all directions, a lab coat lathered in paint and blood and a needle in her hand. Her make up was great, curtesy of Karen who had done Eddie's make up too.

"Are you my next patient?" The tone of Hen's voice was softer than it had been when James and Josie walked in. She knew she could play a game and scare them, but she didn't want to frighten Cole.

"No!"

Cole twisted his head so his chin was perched on Evan's shoulder and he was looking over his dad's back, facing away from Hen. His legs started to swing into Evan's chest and he fidgeted in his arms, binding both arms around his dad's neck to cling to him tighter. He wasn't impressed.

"Okay, next one." Evan soothed and rubbed his hand up and down Cole's back as he walked into the next room.

Evan felt his youngest start to quake in his arms when he heard the music and saw how dark this room was. Maybe Cole wasn't the best to show round here, Evan thought he might be alright because no one else was looking round here to egg him on or frighten him even more.

The four year old twisted his head to look around, but he jerked in Evan's hold when Eddie popped out from behind a back drop.

Before Eddie had chance to growl or make a noise, a low whine left Cole's lips and he began to cry. His face tucked into Evan's neck and he stuffed his hand into his mouth, morphing the sound of his cries while Eddie quickly tore the wig from his head.

"It's only me, buddy."

"And I think we're done with the maze. It's okay, let's grab some sweets." Evan cupped the side of Cole's head and kissed his temple while he pushed through the curtain on his right to exit the maze. He didn't want to take Cole into the last two rooms and have Chimney frighten him to his core. Getting out now was the best idea for him.

He weaved around the back of the tents that made up the maze until he found James and Josie running out of the last room, laughing and panting.

Evan tried to let go of Coles face so he could reach into the large dish holding all of the sweets ranging from chocolates to gooey string. But Cole gripped his wrist and held his hand in place against his face. Clearly the comfort was making him feel better.

"All over," Evan murmured against his temple and bounced him on his hip before he looked over at his other two kids who were rummaging around for their favourite sweets. "Was it good?"

"The best."

"Can we go round again in a bit?"

"Sure-"

"No!" Cole's head shook against Evan's neck until he felt his dad chuckling and quietly shushing him.

"Not you, you're staying with me buddy, I need someone to guard the sweets."

If the kids wanted to stay for a while and go through the maze again when some of the public came in, that was fine. Evan was supposed to be stationed here at the sweet table at the end of the maze so Cole could stay with him until it was time to go home.

"Just remember you're staying here with me for a while which means you only go out with mum for a little while tomorrow, because I'm working. Mum's gotta be careful."

Evan was glad Bobby had said the kids could stay for as long as they liked. The Captain knew they were all well behaved and would most likely help out too which was always a bonus. The station wasn't taking any calls today so the community could come in and out as much as they liked so the kids could play and have some lunch here. And it meant Evan got to be with the kids for a little bit of Halloween, even if the festivities were technically tomorrow.

He was getting to see them dressed up today so he didn't miss out while he was working tomorrow. And it meant the kids got to have some fun and (Y/n) didn't get stressed or do too much with them tomorrow. Now she was having twins and hadn't been well, she had to take it easy.

***

Evan rolled his neck from side to side, clicking it into place as he jumped down from the truck and moved to stand beside Bobby.

This didn't look good.

They hadn't been told what scene they were arriving to, dispatch only said that someone had been on the phone and then got into a traffic accident. This looked more than a little accident; it looked horrific.

Crowds were already trying to gather round and see what was going on, but nobody dared to get too close.

There were tyre tracks on the road, great black streaks on the concrete leading up to a beaten up silver Ford. It had veered off the road, plowed straight over someone's lawn, smashed up their front steps and was now imbedded into the wall of their house, resting on their porch. The frame of the porch was starting to creak already and Evan gave it five minutes before it started to sway and the house foundations began to give in.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Bobby's hand moved out towards the two teenage girls shakily hurrying over to them. Both girls looked relatively fine if they had been involved in this accident, no cuts bruises or broken bones. They were just shaken up.

"He- he drove after us, he hit o-our car and skidded. He hit a boy." One of the girls pointed towards the porch as Bobby's lips faltered.

There was a victim up there other than the driver?

"Okay, Eddie, Buck start working on a structure to keep that porch from collapsing. Chim, Hen we need to check these victims."

Evan nodded and took a step to the side, there was a lot of wood from the picket fence and the destroyed front porch that they could use to keep the structure from collapsing. They would have to prop it up so they could winch the car out and get to whoever was trapped.

"Why don't…" Whatever Evan was about to say faded on the tip of his tongue when he looked ahead of him.

He recognised one of those voices mixed into the growing crowd around them. He knew that high-pitch cry.

"Daddy!" A loud wail followed Cole's voice and his arms flung out in front of him as he bolted from the pavement across the vacant road towards his dad/ He spotted him straight away. Cole could always spot his dad in a crowd and right now, he needed him more than anything else.

"Cole?" An icicle of dread pierced into Evan's heart and he moved away from the truck, opening his arms to scoop up his son as soon as he was close enough. He picked him up and cradled him into his chest, cupping the side of Cole's face so he could check him over.

Evan's eyes were wide and frantic as he noticed Cole's minimal face paint was smudged. Tear tracks were smeared down his cheeks leaving runny black trails from the make up around his eyes that was fading from all the tears. And his little boy was shaking in his shoes like he had been electrified.

"Daddy's here!" Josie's croaky voice caught Evan's ear and he shifted Cole into his left arm so he could hold his hand out when his daughter hurried over to him.

What were they doing here? Had they witnessed the crash? Where was (Y/n) and James?

"Where's your mum?" The urgency in Evan's voice was unlike anything the kids had ever heard. But Evan tripped over his feet when Josie tugged on his hand and pointed to the porch.

"No… no, no no!"

Words tumbled past Evan's lips, but he could barely hear them. He didn't hear himself telling Josie and Cole to sit and stay exactly where they were. He couldn't feel Cole's nails scratching into the back of his neck or his wails as he screeched for Evan to keep hold of him, but he couldn't.

Once Evan noticed Bobby moving towards the kids, presumably to keep them calm and still, Evan stumbled up the steps.

This couldn't be happening. No. Why? Why now, when Evan was on shift, when he hadn't been here with them? Why his family? Why not somebody else?

His boots pounded against the broken steps that squeaked as if they were going to give way beneath his weight. But when he got onto the porch, he found Chimney stood in front of him. His hands found Evan's chest and he gave him a little nudge, silently telling him to take a step back but the motion only infuriated Evan.

He leaned around Chimney, feeling his heart impale itself on his ribs when he looked at the bonnet of the car.

There was the rest of his family.

James was the boy who'd been hit. Wedged between the car bonnet and the wall of the house, right next to the front door. And beside him, leaning heavily on the car to be as close as possible, was (Y/n).

"Buck-" Chimney closed his eyes and ground his jaw when he was violently pushed aside. He regained his balance just before he toppled onto Bobby who was trying to keep the kids away from the scene, not wanting them to be traumatised any longer.

"Baby- baby, i-it's me! I'm here, what happened?" Breathless gasps left Evan's lips as he blundered over to be behind (Y/n).

His hands found her arms and he leaned over her back, feeling the quiet scream she let out. She had been zoned out, focusing on James and Evan had accidentally frightened her. But when (Y/n) looked over her shoulder, tears streamed down her face and she reached her free hand up to grip his hand that was on her upper arm.

"Evan," The way she said his name had his heart breaking all over again and he felt tears welling up in his eyes when (Y/n) briefly pressed her forehead down into his arm. "He p- he pushed Cole out the way. I couldn't-"

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and rolled her lips together when Evan kissed the top of her head.

She hadn't been able to do anything.

They had been walking on the path, about to get ready to call it a night when it happened. Two cars, like they were playing chicken. One hit the back of another and veered onto the path. (Y/n) couldn't move before James had shoved Cole across the path so he was out the way of the oncoming car. All (Y/n) could do was scream.

The boys had been in front of her. James had been walking with Cole attached to his side while Josie walked slower so she could be beside (Y/n). Just a few more paces and it would of been (Y/n) and Josie who got hit instead of James.

"Dad?" The hope in James's voice made Evan choke and he carefully nudged (Y/n) a few paces to the side so he could take her place. The action caused her to let go of James's hand and (Y/n) felt herself beginning to tremble when she let him go.

She pressed up behind Evan to stay as close as possible while he leaned his hips on the bonnet and reached out for his boy.

James looked like he was a rubber toy that was being stretched. The bonnet was pressing deeply into his abdomen and lower chest and the tyre was crushed into his leg. For a moment, Evan seemed to look at him funny as if something was out of place, but then he realised what it was. He wasn't wearing his glasses; either they had fallen off or (Y/n) had taken them off him to try and help him.

Tears were streaming down his face and his arms were both laid on the bonnet around the picket fence that was crushed between him and the car. He had his head leant on his arm, but as soon as he realised his dad was here, his head perked up. He had been screaming for Evan since someone said they called the emergency services.

He wanted his dad.

"I'm here! I've got you buddy." When James latched both hands around Evan's bicep, Evan leaned over him and cradled the back of his neck. He pressed a dozen kisses to the top of his head and took a few seconds to try and even out his breathing.

He had to stay in control. He had to figure out what to do and get their son out of this situation.

His fingers curled at the back of James's head, fisting around his curly hair that matched Evan's. He could feel how badly his boy was shaking and it was as if the pain was radiating through into Evan and all he wanted to do was make it stop. He wanted to find a way to rewind time and slot himself into this scene so he could stop it from happening.

"Hurts." The little whimper James let out made Evan croak. He finally reeled back just enough so that he can look down at his boy without tearing himself away from James. Allowing his boy to keep a tight grip on his bicep.

"It's alright, I'll get you something for that. Where's the morphine?" Evan looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows and a stern expression not to be messed with. He had to have some help here.

He could see Bobby was giving out orders while still staying close by Josie and Cole, for safety. Eddie was working with a few others to make something to keep the structure sturdy so they could move the car. And Chimney was weaving around to the other side of the car so he could try and help.

When Evan looked around, he watched Hen hurry up to him with a medic bag in her hand which made him relieved. There would be some morphine in that bag; something that until a few weeks ago James had never had to have until he broke his ribs. Evan didn't want to think what was going to be wrong with his son after this.

"Buck, why don't you let me-"

"He's not your kid!"

The seething tone in Evan's voice made Hen roll her lips into a thin line and she nodded. She didn't think it was the best idea that Evan be the one to help right now. This was his son. He was getting emotional and that wasn't the best thing to happen in this situation; but none of them were going to be able to tear him away from his boy.

"Dad d-don't go." James scratched his short nails into his dad's arm and gave a sharp tug on his arm. He had been crying out for his dad since the accident occurred, he didn't want Evan to step away from him now.

"I'm not leaving you, not for a second. Okay? I'm right here with you, baby." He kissed James's temple before he held his hand out and took the packaged needle Hen passed into his hand.

He scratched the needle into the back of James's hand and squeezed until all the morphine was in his system. They all knew it would take a few minutes to work, but once it did, the discomfort would fade away.

Evan took a look around before he shuffled over and carefully sat down on the car bonnet. He had to be close and standing at an angle like this wasn't exactly helping. He leaned in close so he could see how much the car was pushing down on James and whereabouts. And from the look of his leg, James had a new broken bone to deal with.

"Is Cole o-okay? I- I tried to get him out- out the way." James sniffed and tilted his head back to look up at his dad.

He wanted to straighten up, but standing straight hurt his chest and he felt better if he just slumped forward like this. And now that his dad was sat on the bonnet, James flopped his chin on his dad's leg and gripped his leg to try and distract himself.

"He's fine, and I'm so proud of you." He kissed the back of James's head as more tears flushed his face.

Things wouldn't have worked out the same if Cole had been hit too. He was four, he was small and he wasn't as strong. If the car hit him it would of killed him. James had saved him.

Looking over his shoulder, Evan waved towards Hen and Bobby who were hanging back to try and help get the structure sorted.

"How long? I need this car off him now!"

"We're on it, Buck. Keep him calm for a few more minutes." Bobby didn't dare say they needed up to ten minutes to do this. He couldn't say that and watch Evan's face fall and he couldn't let James hear that and have him panicking too.

When (Y/n) heard James mutter a broken "Where's mum?" she tried to move back to his side but a pair of hands held her arms and pulled her back. Her head whipped over her shoulder and she writhed around when she realised it was Eddie holding onto her.

He shook his head and tried to pull her back into him. (Y/n) wouldn't be able to do very much, none of them could do a lot until the car was moved. And Eddie knew (Y/n) panicking was only going to make her state worse. She needed to calm down and stay put for now.

"She's here, look uncle Chim's gonna help us too."

"Alright kid, let's get this on you." Leaning over the bonnet, Chimney carefully placed two stickers beneath James's shirt against his chest to monitor his heartbeat. "Let's straighten you up so I can take a look."

James gripped Evan's arms while his dad held his elbows and helped him lean back so he was standing up properly rather than being slumped over. He tilted his head back, trying to hold back the tears but it wasn't happening. He squeezed Evan's arms tight and tried to take deep breaths while Chimney pressed on his chest and tried to feel his abdomen for any tender spots or internal bleeding.

"I'm scared." There was no shame in James's voice; he wasn't embarrassed to say he was frightened because he was. He was in agony, he was trapped. He felt like he was being flattened and at any moment he was sure his insides were going to burst and pop.

His voice made (Y/n) tremble and her hands moved to cover her mouth so she wouldn't burst into tears. Her eyes were constantly moving to the left to check on the kids and she could see them both huddled together on the steps with Hen stood beside them so Bobby could help drill the wood for the structure. They were shell-shocked, but they were okay for now.

All she wanted to do was go up there and hold James. She wanted to wrap her arms around him like she had tried to do earlier and get that car away from him so they could move him. He needed to go to hospital.

Sobs wracked past her lips and she tried again to move away from Eddie but he wasn't letting go. He couldn't let her distress herself any more than this.

"You don't need to be scared, you've got all of us here to look after you. The best team, hm?"

James nodded and tried to keep his eyes open, but he could feel his head turning dizzy and the agony burning throughout his chest was making it hard to focus.

"Dad?"

"What, baby?"

Evan didn't receive a proper answer, but he watched silently as James tugged on his arms and moved his hands towards his chest.

"Is it your ribs, do they hurt?" Evan wouldn't be surprised if James had fractured or damaged his already broken ribs that were on the verge of healing now three weeks after the accident.

But both he and Chimney froze when James's head flopped forward and he started to cough. His forehead bashed into Evan's thigh and he began to wheeze through coughs like he had suddenly inhaled smoke that was irritating his lungs.

"James?"

"Hey, baby sit up for me, please?" Desperation drowned Evan's voice as he and Chimney tried to reel James up again but he wasn't having it. He didn't have the energy and he felt better laying forward like this.

But when Evan rolled James's upper half onto his side so he could look at him, everything within him started to burn in flames and a horrible trembling set in Evan's body.

James was coughing up blood.

His eyes were rolling about in his head like marbles, unable to focus on anything and his chest was convulsing as large splurts of blood dribbled down his chin and splattered onto Evan's lap.

"Hen we need suction." Chimney pressed one knee onto the bonnet so he could lean over now that James's back was twisted towards him. He tilted James's head forwards and tried to listen to his breathing, but his lungs sounded like they were drowning. He was going to suffocate in his own blood if they didn't remove it quick enough.

"(Y/n)- (Y/n) no- Cap we need that car on a winch now!" Eddie braced himself and tilted his head back, holding (Y/n) with his arms beneath hers and his hands on her shoulders to hold her back. She was dithering between trying to lean forward and pushing down like she was going to collapse. The only sure thing was Eddie stood behind her, holding her up.

A horrible, broken scream left (Y/n)'s lips and when she tried to wrangle out of Eddie's grip again, she ended up going down on her knees when her legs buckled. Her head flopped forward, allowing the tears to cascade down her face as she gasped for breath like she was drowning too.

She wanted to hold his hand. She wanted to stand with him and try to help. She needed to be closer, but they weren't letting her.

One hand reached up to grip Eddie's hand that was on her shoulder and she squeezed tight, glad he didn't say anything and simply held her tighter for support. But her other hand moved down to the side of her stomach when it felt like her muscles were tightening and twinging.

"Alright, here we go buddy." Chimney switched on the machine when Hen handed it over and carefully wiggled the plastic tube into James's mouth and down his throat.

The amount of blood filling the suction tube was unnerving, but the coughing, gasping noises James made was worse. And the sight of his chest convulsing against Evan's knees was making tears pour down his dad's face.

"He's losing a lot of blood, Cap we need a transfusion."

"It would take more than ten minutes to get a blood bag down here." They didn't carry blood bags on them, that was too dangerous and it wasn't their department's job. Getting a donation from the hospital was going to take too long, even if they had the blue lights on to get here faster.

A strangled sound passed (Y/n)'s lips as she twisted to look up at Eddie. She tried to ignore the tightening in her stomach while she pulled on his hand.

"What, are you okay?"

"He's- I'm A-negative too. Can't you d-do something?" (Y/n) waved her wrist in front of Eddie to try and make her point because she couldn't find the words she needed.

Evan was a different blood group to (Y/n), but she knew she was the same as James. Her and Evan went to the hospital every other month to give blood donations. She was the same type as James, couldn't they take her blood and somehow get it into James here? Did they have the equipment for that?

A light seemed to go off in Eddie's mind and he nodded and pushed up from his knees, carefully helping (Y/n) up with him as he finally guided her over towards her boy rather than holding her at bay.

"Eddie no-" Evan tried to motion his hand towards his wife, signalling that he didn't want her this close. (Y/n) had already gone into shock and was panicking, Evan couldn't have her getting any worse witnessing this.

"She's his blood type, we can get a fusion going or he's gonna drown in his blood and lose it at the same time."

If they let James continue like this, he was going to bleed out into his lungs and it would be a debate whether the blood loss would kill him or if he would suffocate first. He needed a transfusion to get blood to the rest of his body, not just in his lungs.

Evan looked sceptical, he didn't look like he would agree but they didn't have a choice and (Y/n) was already leaning over his lap and rolling up her sleeve. She wouldn't give him a choice. She was doing this whether Evan was happy about it or not.

"You know that's risky." Hen fumbled in her medic bag to find what they needed, but her voice gave away how uncertain she was about this. It wasn't something they practised or did every day.

"He needs me." (Y/n) moved her hand towards Eddie because she knew that even if Evan, Hen and Chimney were uncertain, Eddie was willing. It was risky but they couldn't let James deteriorate or get any worse.

"Fuck it." Chimney grabbed the needles from Hen and handed one over to Eddie before he held James's hand.

It was hard to lean over James and get the needle into his elbow from this angle but he managed it and held the tube out ready for Eddie to use.

(Y/n) leaned her hip against Evan and laid her head on his shoulder but her eyes wouldn't divert away from their boy. He was still shaking and choking and his eyes had rolled to the back of his head. He had passed out and they could all hear his heartbeat lowering with every second that ticked by.

The small scratch in the back of her hand was nothing compared to the ache in her heart and the twisting, stretching feeling in her abdomen where the twins were kicking up a fuss.

Evan pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head while he started to run his fingers through James's hair, something that always soothed and calmed down their boy since he was a baby. He watched intently as Eddie connected the tubes to a large syringe and slowly started to fill the syringe with (Y/n)'s blood.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

Eddie carefully pushed down on the syringe until it was halfway down and the blood started to travel through the next tube and into James's elbow.

(Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded and she leaned into Evan a little more to keep herself steady. But the sound of the heart rate monitor picking up made her sigh and press her lips into Evan's shoulder.

It was working.

"Alright Buck get off the car, we're gonna move it now!" Bobby's voice was the ray of light they needed.

Chimney handed the suction back to Hen now that James's lungs were mostly clear for the time being. And Eddie carefully reeled (Y/n) back a few feet with him, making sure she wasn't too far away so the needle didn't come out her hand. While Chimney held James's shoulders, Evan held his head up and they both kept him in place while Bobby and Hen got the wooden beams in place on the porch so it wouldn't collapse on them.

The structure shuddered and groaned once the car slowly started to be pulled away.

A horrible scream tore past James's lips and his head flopped forward against Evan's hand as a dribble of blood spat past his lips. His knees wavered, but not for long. Evan crouched in front of him and caught him expertly while everyone moved around them.

The fencing and broken beams were moved out the way so Evan could pick up his boy and carry him down to the gurney at the bottom of the stairs. With (Y/n) and Eddie close behind.

"He should have enough now." Eddie's voice was careful and delicate as he removed the needle from (Y/n)'s hand and put a plaster in its place.

"You both go with him, we'll take the kids with us and meet you there." Bobby waved his hand towards the ambulance. It would be better for both parents to travel with James and the rest of them would follow on behind in the truck and they would take Cole and Josie with them.

(Y/n) looked to the side but Cole was already in Chimney's arms, sobbing into his chest while Chimney tried to calm him down. And Josie was attached to his leg, unsure what was happening or where they were going now. But both kids knew he was their uncle and they should wait with him if they couldn't follow with their parents.

She tried to nod and push ahead, following after Evan who was steering the gurney with Hen. But her legs were shaking like they were about to give way on her and she felt like she was about to faint.

The feeling of Eddie's hand on her back was comforting as he helped guide her towards the ambulance. But (Y/n) didn't have the strength to get inside. Her hand clung to the ambulance door and she hunched forward, closing her eyes when another twinge broke out in her abdomen.

"Baby, what's the matter?" Once the stretcher was locked in place, Evan moved to the end of the ambulance, both hands pressed into either door as he leaned forward. Trying to decipher why his wife had stooped over rather than attempted to get inside with him.

"I- I think…" She couldn't find the words, but another pain hit her with such a powerful force that she had no choice but to bend her knees and brace her hand on the floor of the ambulance.

A cry burst past her lips and Evan jerked back when she curled her other hand into a fist and rammed it into the door so powerfully that the whole ambulance shook.

They all heard her mutter "Contraction." in a feeble whimper and Evan's jaw ground tight as he looked at Eddie.

This was exactly what he and (Y/n) and been trying to avoid. She was on light duties at home and Evan had been tempted to tell her to go on bed rest to make sure nothing happened to her and the twins. The stress of tonight and trauma of seeing James get hurt was pushing her into labour.

"We'll get you to a doctor too then."

Leaning down, Evan held onto (Y/n)'s elbows and pulled her up while Eddie stayed behind her to make sure she got up and didn't trip. Evan eased her down into one of the seats and sat next to her, but he didn't like the look in her eyes. She creased forward so her bump was pressed into her thighs and her hands reached out to take James's hand.

Evan leaned over and looped his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist, easing her into him until her head was meshed into his chest and his lips attached to the top of her head. While his other hand held onto James's shoulder like their son was their lifeline.

He knew. Evan just knew that (Y/n) was going to ignore the contractions as much as she could. She wasn't going to listen to her body and he had a feeling he was going to have a fight on his hands to get her to sit with a doctor.

(Y/n) didn't want this to happen. She didn't need this right now. James needed her and Evan, they couldn't leave him or stop worrying about him to focus on (Y/n)'s feeble body that was overreacting and trying to hurt their other two babies.

All their attention had to go to James. He needed them.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Say my Name, As if it’s Drowning in the Tide - Jayce x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

Pairing: Jayce x Reader Modern AU, one-sided Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit

Tags: Hate Sex, Emotional Roleplay, One-sided Attraction, Grinding, Dry-Humping, Premature Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Switch!Jayce, Rough Kissing, Biting, Shower Sex, Angst, One Bed

Notes: I love my pathetic son Jayce, so I needed to make him just a bit wetter and sadder for… reasons. This is a two-parter, because it was looking too heavy as a one-shot and the second part still needs a bit more attention. I need to stop having too many multi-chapter projects at the same time before I go insane. Anyway, enjoy ❤️!!

(Chapter 2/End)

You tap your fingers on the wooden countertop, trying to remain calm despite the growing pressure inside your skull.

“And you're sure there's not a single other room left ?” you ask with a tense smile, your teeth grinding against each other almost audibly.

The receptionist gives you yet another blank stare. She's hardly older than seventeen, probably helping out her parent's business, and clearly not paid enough to care about whether or not you stay or go.

“No, ma'am, there are no other rooms available for the duration of your stay,” she repeats robotically. It's as if you've been stuck in the same dialogue tree for half an hour with a badly programmed NPC. “We're a family-owned business, and we only have ten rooms available at once. Your reservation was for a single bedroom, not two.”

The exaggerated sound of her slowly chewing gum is driving you insane. “She's just doing her job’, you have to remind yourself. It's not her fault, you know that; plus, if there's anybody to blame, it's Jayce.

You turn towards the culprit in question, large shoulders slightly slumped and eyes escaping your glare. Pathetic.

“Seriously, Jayce?” you state in disbelief. “I asked you to do one thing for the trip.”

Jayce visibly takes offence to that, raising one stupidly large hand in objection:

“That's not fair, I was also taking care of bringing the prototype!”

“And I signed us up to the conference,” you hiss back. “I prepared our lecture. I got our bus tickets here and back. I made our itinerary for the whole three days. I even wrote down where we could go to bring back souvenirs for Sky and Viktor!”

You point an accusing finger at him, tapping it against his chest:

“The only thing I wanted you to take care of was the fucking motel. And you couldn't even do that right!”

He throws up both hands in exasperation, rolling his eyes. If there wasn't a minor in the same room, you'd have no qualms about punching him.

“Fine, alright, I messed up, what do you want me to say? ‘I'm sorry I'm such an idiot'?”

You exhale in frustration, throwing him one last resentful look before turning back to the receptionist: “Yeah, that would be a good start”, you scoff under your breath.

He makes a dramatic groan of annoyance behind you, like this entire situation isn't his fault.

The Academy barely gives you enough budget to attend two national mechanical engineering conferences a year. You had originally planned to go to this one with Viktor, specifically because of its location: nice and remote, the air fresh and relaxing, the few roads leading to the major cities surrounded by millennial trees and mountain peaks. The perfect place for a spark of romance to ignite between the two of you.

Unfortunately, Viktor had already scheduled a weekend seminar on the exact same date as the conference. Sky, your fourth and youngest lab partner, wasn't equipped enough to help you present all the complex features of the university's mechanical arm project. Only one other person could.

Jayce fucking Talis, and his magical ability to never do anything right.

“We'll just get our money back and find another place to crash,” he argues, walking up next to you to the counter, resting his weight against it; it creaks disapprovingly. “It doesn't have to be a whole thing.”

“I'm sorry sir,” the teen flatly interjects, still smacking the gum between her brace-clad teeth. Squish, squish. “But we require cancellations to be made 24 hours prior to the reservation. We cannot reimburse you as per the politics you have agreed to on our website.”

You'd probably get more interactive answers from a chatbot. Jayce kneads the lines on his forehead, his practiced megawatt smile starting to crack from fatigue. The girl stares at him with neither sympathy nor sadness; she brings her lips together to form a small pink bubble, letting it burst after a few seconds. Pop.

“Okay, you know what,” Jayce sighs in defeat, “I'll pay for our rooms somewhere else. It's on me. As an apology.”

This would be an excellent time to not subtly sneak in a remark on how he's always using his parent's money to get himself out of the messes he's created, but the teen speaks up again before you get a chance to:

“Sir,” she adds with her irritatingly nasal voice. “You should know the only other motel in the area only accepts new reservations until 9 pm.”

She nods pointedly towards an old grandfather clock on the wall, and the two of you look at it in sync: it's 9:06.

Now you're genuinely hesitating between strangling her or Jayce.

“You really know how to make a guy feel better, huh?” Jayce attempts with a weak laugh, the plastic smile crumbling a little further.

She only gives him a vacant gaze.

Your legs are aching from the long ride in the overcrowded bus, and the arduous walk to the motel with half the disassembled prototype on your back. You've been dreaming of laying down on a bed for the last three hours, and even if another inn was open nearby, you doubt you'd have the will to carry everything there.

“I don't care anymore,” you sigh, massaging the side of your temple to relieve some of the built-up tension. “I'm exhausted, and we need to rest if we want to be any good tomorrow morning. We'll just figure it out upstairs.”

Jayce makes a non-committal sound of agreement; if you had more energy, you'd angrily ask him if he has any better ideas he'd like to share. But you don't, so you just focus back on the unexcited receptionist. Ironically enough, the letters on her cropped shirt spell ‘GOOD VIBES ONLY’.

“We'll take the room,” you conclude, worn out.

The teen barely blinks as she inputs something into her old computer, the vintage monitor buzzing unpleasantly before she hands you two scratched keycards mechanically.

“Room 207. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Grizzly Country Motel,” she deadpans.

You mumble a thank you, but she either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore it in favour of going back to her cell phone, like your entire interaction had been nothing more than chasing away a couple of flies.

Jayce at least has the decency to grab both your luggage and his before you both head towards the stairs; if he’s got all those muscles, he might as well put them to use. You feel a pang of annoyance at how easily he carries the bags that you struggled to hold the entire day.

“Don't you think it's weird when they say ‘we’?” he mumbles pensively as you go up the stairway. “It's like everyone who works at a hotel is in a hivemind.”

You can't even find the will to look back and glare at him.

“No, Talis, I was actually thinking about how I'd fix all the problems you've created,” you reply drily.

You reach the second floor, knees buckling. Room 201, 202, 203…

“You'll just take half the bed and I'll take the other half,” Jayce pipes up from behind you, grunting as he pulls the last bag up. “We'll put a pillow in the middle. It'll be like nothing even happened.”

Oh, to be in the mind of Jayce Talis, where the universe is so fucking simple and accountability is a myth.

You hate how he always has an answer for everything, like it’s all so easy for him. You've fought hard to reach this point — to earn your place in the Academy, to be seen as a true scientist, breaking through barriers in a field where women remain the minority. It’s taken blood, sweat, and tears, years of effort that people like Viktor and Sky understand and respect.

Room 204, 205, 206…

But for Jayce Talis, it’s all sunshine, rainbows, and candy-colored skies. His family owns one of the largest metallurgy companies in the country, and has stocks invested in some of the biggest steel producers on the globe. He’s never had to work a single day in his life to put himself through school, never had to sacrifice anything for his dreams. You don’t think there’s a single thing he’s ever actually had to put effort in: he barely studies and still aces all his classes, hardly puts any care into his appearance, yet always looks like he’s out of the cover of the Times’ 50 Most Desirable Men. It’s infuriating to an unspeakable degree.

Room 207.

You tap one of the keycards on the handle, letting out a small sigh of relief when the mechanism beeps joyfully. Today hasn't been ideal, but at least, you're only a few feet away from a soft, comfortable bed.

You open the door, walking in with little decorum. It's small and bare, as you expected: a single window dulled by years of exposure, a box TV taken straight from the nineties, a dingy light fixture barely illuminating a greyed-out wallpaper of a forest scene, and…

“Talis,” you pause. He almost bumps into your back, fumbling with the bags in his arms.

“What?” he asks in confusion, peering over your shoulder. “Oh,” he simply says when he sees the issue.

“Talis,” you repeat slowly, trying to maintain your tone even, despite how badly you want to scream. “This is a single bed.”

Indeed, not only is there only one bed, it's evidently sized for a single person. It's ridiculously tiny. It doesn't take a genius to see that with someone of Jayce's stature, you'd have to practically sleep on top of him if you wanted to share the bed.

“Wait, I swear I asked for doubles for both of us-” he protests immediately.

“It's fine,” you cut him off, despite it being the exact opposite. The headache is getting worse, and you don't feel like arguing with him any more than you already have. “I'll take the bed tonight, and you take the floor, and we alternate tomorrow.”

Jayce puts all the bags down on the carpeted floor, visibly dejected.

“Again, I'm really sorry about this,” he mumbles, and even though you can tell it's genuine, it doesn't make you feel any better. Every ambigious prejudice you might have had against him has just confirmed itself: he’s a spoiled mama’s boy, who isn’t able to navigate the real world alone, and who’ll simply cry when he messes up things for everyone else.

“Whatever,” you grumble, sitting tiredly on the edge of the puny bed that groans painfully under your weight; it doesn't even have the decency to be comfortable. “Just means I'll have to take care of everything if we ever do symposium together again.”

He looks like a scolded puppy, unmoving, eyes avoidant, his large frame blocking the doorway. Jayce is extremely talented at making people pity him, with his huge citrine eyes and perfectly rosy cheeks. It almost makes you hesitate before adding the next words, but bitterness takes the upper hand: “This is the kind of mistake Viktor never makes.”

He doesn't reply.

You can tell that hurt him just as much as you intended with the way his body slightly curves inwards, his fits visibly clenching inside his pockets. Well, good. He's old and smart enough to know actions have consequences. He's supposed to be your partner, not a child you're babysitting.

“I'm…gonna go take a shower,” he hesitantly adds after a few tense seconds. “I'm still sweaty from the bus ride. Is that… okay with you?”

You shrug with disinterest; you know you’re just being petty now, but thinking of everything that could have been, had it been Viktor on this trip and not him, is leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Fine by me. I'll take mine right after.”

He waits a moment, like he's expecting you to add something else; maybe extend the olive branch. When you don't provide, he sighs, making his way to the bathroom door and closing it behind him.

You let your body fall back on the mattress with a heavy ‘oomph’. It's not as uncomfortable as it first seemed; it's firm, but the covers are soft, and the single pillow feels nicely fluffed. A couple might actually be pretty cozy in this bed, one body on top of the other, their libs entangled lovingly. It could have been you and Viktor.

Viktor.

Viktor, and his honey-coloured eyes. Viktor, and his teasing smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Viktor, and the way his long fingers twirl in his chestnut hair when he's focused, the way he absentmindedly licks his bottom lip when he's lost in thought. Viktor, and-

“Hey, um,” Jayce's booming voice from the other room interrupts your reverie. “C'mere for a sec?”

You groan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. Maybe if you pretend he isn't there, he'll disappear all on his own.

“No, seriously,” he insists.

No luck. You get up lethargically, cursing the man under your breath.

“Left side with the red is hot, right side with the blue is cold, Talis,” you ironize. You open the door to the bathroom to see him standing in front of the shower door, thankfully still fully clothed. “Do you need help opening the shampoo bottle, too?”

He glares back at you in annoyance:

“Fuck off. Look.”

He nods towards a paper sign you hadn't noticed tapped on the glass panel, amateurishly plastified with a clear file folder.

[PLEASE DO NOT USE THE SHOWER MORE THAN ONCE A DAY. 10 MINUTES OF HOT WATER PER ROOM]

Well, you were wrong. Jayce Talis isn't just a forgetful idiot with bad luck.

He's a fucking curse.

“The room and the bed, I could forgive,” you start, fuming. But the shower?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” he yells back melodramatically. “You told me to find something cheap to not go over budget!”

You shove him in frustration, only getting more annoyed when it doesn't make his stupidly huge body move a single inch:

“I didn't mean you should book a fucking dumpster!”

A loud, pointed knock echoing from beyond the bathroom wall silences you both.

Delightful. The neighbours can hear everything.

You move a step away from Jayce, the width of the bathroom not allowing much in terms of distancing.

“Sorry,” you mumble under your breath. You aren’t, but it's that or getting kicked out of the only open motel in miles for a noise complaint. “Yelling isn't gonna lead us anywhere. You can take five minutes, and I'll take the other five. It's gonna be short, but that's probably the best we can do.”

He at least has the decency to look appreciative, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“I can give you the whole ten minutes, to apologize. This is my fault,” he admits. It’s always like this with him, as if his never-ending self-pity cleanses him of any possible wrongdoing. You despise that.

“And have you stink up the whole place smelling like a football locker room? No way,” you scrunch up your nose. Just by sharing a workspace with him, you know Jayce has the hygiene skills of a teenage boy who thinks Axe body spray and cologne make sweat magically vanish; the sheer power of the unholy combination would keep you awake all night.

“Or…” Jayce trails on for a few uncharacteristically long seconds. He's usually more the type to say things before reflecting on them, but he's pinching his lips tightly, clearly hesitant about what he's going to add next. “…We could share the shower?”

You look at him with an expression frozen between incomprehension and disgust: “What?”

“I mean, it's big enough for two people to stand without touching,” he quickly justifies, raising his hands innocently. “I could take the flexible hose, and you'd just go under the showerhead. That way we'd both get ten minutes!”

He's using the overly excited voice he takes on whenever he's giving someone his sales pitch for a new, stupid idea he's had. It might work wonders on most, but you know better than to fall for it.

“So you're that desperate to see me naked?” you sneer.

“I'm trying to be helpful here!” he complains.

If you're being honest, it's not that bad of an idea. The shower is small in width, but it's quite long, making it a very viable option for two people to use at once. If you manoeuver everything right, it'll almost be like you're taking a long, nice ten-minute shower on your own.

“Fine,” you capitulate, making sure to enunciate the word painfully slowly so he knows you're not doing it out of the kindness of your heart. “But if you tell anyone this happened, especially Viktor, I'm cutting off your balls and using them to-”

“Yeah, got it, wouldn't want Viktor to think you like me,” he taunts mockingly, puckering his lips in a false kiss at the other man's name.

It's the first time you've agreed to an idea from Jayce, and you're already regretting it.

“Just shut up and get in the fucking shower,” you spit out, going back to the main room without sparing him another look. “Face the wall and call me when you're done. There’s no reason for this to be weird.”

—

He’s hard.

Very obviously and undeniably hard.

Jayce has been splashing his face with cold water for the last few minutes, to no avail. He's tried every technique he can possibly think of: running in place, breathing exercises, imagining his abuelita naked, nothing is working.

The only thing he can visualize is your body, completely bare in that shower, only a few inches away from his. The water pouring down from your hair to your shoulders, to your breasts, and then alongside the curves of your thighs, and your ass-

“Shut up,” he mumbles to himself in the empty bathroom.

It's not a secret to anyone that Jayce likes you. Neither is it a secret that you're utterly uninterested and only have eyes for Viktor, except perhaps for Viktor himself. It's kind of unfair how two-thirds of Viktor's lab partners are in love with him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get it, and that his eyes never lingered on that little mole above Viktor's lip for longer than they should have. But damn it, he wants you. He wants you to want him. Is that such an unfair thing to ask for?

You've got so much fight, so much fire in you, and he gets dizzy off the smouldering look in your eyes whenever you disagree with him. And disagree, you do: he wants to use lithium batteries, you want to use sodium. He wants to focus on reducing energy intake for the prototype, you want to focus on adding new components to it. He offers to order pizza for the group after a long day of work, you'll hear of nothing but sushi.

It drives him insane, but less in a way that makes him despise you, and more in one that makes him angrily rub his cock raw every night at the thought of that angry pout on your lips.

“-ayce! You alive in there?” comes your voice from the other room. He groans in frustration. This is a spectacular disaster in the making, and he's sitting front and center for it.

He's made his own bed and now he has to lie in it.

“You can come in!” he yells back with a noticeable crack in his voice. Not a great start.

His heart skips a beat when he hears the door creak open and close. The rustling of clothes being taken off one by one, the sound of pants dropping on the tile floor, and the unmistakable click of a bra being unhooked.

The door to the shower slides, and he feels you enter the confined space. It's ridiculous how close you are to him; he can smell the sweat off your skin, the faded scent of your perfume. His cock gives a small twitch and he glares down at it in betrayal. ‘Not now!’

You don't say a word as you turn on the faucet, the old plumbing in the walls hissing slightly before water starts to pour down on the both of you. He's not usually one for the cold, but it's refreshing, washing away the feeling of stickiness on his skin. He hums under his breath in delight; maybe it'll actually just be an awkward but relaxing shower, in the end.

The temperature rises slowly but surely, from cool to tepid, tepid to lukewarm, and then… it stops. He waits a few more seconds, throwing a discreet glance behind him to find you haven't fully turned the faucet on the hot side.

“Could you… put it warmer?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“It's plenty warm enough as is,” you reply flatly.

Now you're lying just to go against him; it's barely any warmer than if he was bathing outside in the lake.

“Why would you even fight for the hot water if you're not gonna use it?” he mumbles.

You moan dramatically in complaint: “Fine, princess, I'll bump it up.”

He sees your hand reach for the faucet, grab it… and bring it less than a centimetre closer to the warm side.

“Seriously?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously, now start washing your greasy hair before there's no hot water left at all,” you scold him, like he's nothing more than a snivelling toddler, and not a man twice your size.

Alright, enough is enough.

“What are you-” you protest at his sudden movement, his bicep pressing up against your shoulder.

“I'm turning the hot water on so I don't die in here,” he snaps back, trying to get a feel for the faucet while still looking away from you for the sake of modesty.

“Absolutely not, stay on your side!” you admonish him angrily. You attempt to push him back, pointedly refusing to look in his direction as you blindly slap his arm away. “Wait, Jayce-”

It happens too fast for either of you to figure out what's happening. One minute you're back to back, a respectable distance from one another, and the next you've both slipped, his arms boxing you into the narrow side of the shower with your legs bumping together.

Your eyes are locked into his for a few long, painful seconds. Neither of you are moving. You're trapped in a precarious game of jenga, where you can't even see which parts can safely be removed without you collapsing on each other.

“Whatever you do,” you exhale slowly. “Don't look down.”

You visibly regret your words as soon as you say them; you must have forgotten it’s Jayce you’re talking to.

He immediately looks down.

You put an arm up over your chest with an indignant yelp, and he quickly defends himself:

“Why would you tell me to not look down? That's like saying ‘Don't think of an elephant’!”

You're staying silent, your lips into a tight line, but he's certain you're thinking of an elephant right now. He smiles boastfully and you shoot him a deadly glare, before looking away to the side. It's the first time he's ever seen that awkward little blush on your cheeks without the conversation being about Viktor. That's a win in his book.

“It's fine,” you repeat once more like a broken record, and it’s definitely more meant to reassure yourself than to keep up a pleasant conversation with him. “I'll just… squish back against the wall while you close your eyes, and I'll direct you back to the other side. No problem.”

You sound less convinced than he's ever heard you before. He must have succeeded in turning the faucet to the side during the whole debacle, because the water has grown noticeably warmer, clouds of steam starting to form in the air. The atmosphere inside the shower is shifting ever so slightly.

He doesn't want to move.

He doesn't want to close his eyes.

The colour of your cheeks has grown darker from the heat, your lips slightly parted around every audible respiration.

“Would you wanna stay like this… if it was with Viktor?” he asks breathlessly.

You look back at him with genuine confusion, and he's honestly just as surprised as you are.

“What?”

“I…” It's getting harder to think. All his blood is rushing south, leaving him dangerously light-headed. What is he saying? “I… asked if you'd stay like this if it wasn't me in the shower. If it was Viktor.”

Your frown deepens. Your eyebrows always do this cute little thing where one furrows just slightly more than the other, but he's never gotten to observe it from this close. He lets his thoughts travel into dangerous territory. Do you wear that same expression when you're on your knees, sucking some other guy off? Would you look like that for Viktor?

“I don't see how that's relevant,” you retort harshly, but your gaze is elusive. You can't hide from him, not when his face is merely inches away from yours.

“Humor me,” he requests again.

“Fine, yeah, I would! Are you happy now?” you snap, eyes locking back into his with fiery resentment.

You're embarrassed.

He's never seen you rattled like this before. The energy in the shower is electric, now, coursing through his veins like a drug. ‘There will never be another moment like this’, the voice in the back of his head provides, syrupy sweet. It’s without a doubt the worst idea he’s ever had in his life, but he can’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I could show you what he's into,” he almost whispers, the deafening sound of water hitting the ceramic flooring almost too loud for him to hear himself.

He knows that you've heard him with the way your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I mean, guys, we talk,” he explains, the words now coming out of him like the rambles of a madman. He’s in too deep to back out: it’s sink or swim. “About the stuff we like, the stuff we dream about. I could tell you what he's told me, and you can practice. On me.”

An eternity passes before you speak again, mouth just barely agape. But you're not yelling at him. You're not slapping him in the face. In fact, you're not even frowning; the expression you’re wearing is oddly vulnerable and open, like you're seeing him in a different light than you ever have before.

“You're fucking gross, Talis,” you breathe out slowly. “You really think I'm that easy?”

This*,* whatever this is, is so fragile he’s scared of shattering it by being too loud. Like he’s talking to a wild animal.

“I don't,” he promises in a low voice. “But I think you're smart, and dedicated, and you wouldn't let an opportunity to know something so personal about Viktor pass you by.”

The steam has fully blurred the glass panels around the both of you, and it feels like you're inside one of those snow globes Jayce's mother used to bring back for him from her travels when he was a kid. It's weirdly ethereal, warm and cold, frozen out of any known space and time. He’s never heard you stay silent this long, and the anticipation makes his throat burn.

“Fine,” you finally say. “But if you tell anyone-”

“Yeah I know, you'll cut my balls off,” he lets out with a small laugh, slightly delirious. He's half convinced he's dreaming. “Are we good?”

You nod without a word, shifting your head to the side slightly to avoid his gaze. He hesitantly brings a hand to your chin, holding it like you're made of glass. You don't recoil at his touch, so he gently presses it upwards, making you look at him again.

“Viktor likes it when people kiss him softly,” he smiles shyly, his heart beating as loudly in his chest as it did for his very first kiss. It’s like he’s watching a movie, like none of it is truly real. He closes the gap between the two of you slowly, waiting for you to pull away; but you don't. Your lips meet his, and it's everything he could have ever wanted.

You taste of rainwater and cherry chapstick. You’re soft in the way described by jazzy love songs, smooth and electric, a puzzle piece that just feels so unbelievably right. He wants to wrap his arms around you, hold you so tight this never has to come to an end, leave marks on your skin no shower could ever get rid of.

But he doesn't. He can't.

This is a fantasy that’s only animated by mutual gain. It’s not the climax of a romance film where the hero finally gets to kiss the heroine under the rain.

But God, does he want to pretend it is.

You pull away first, and he doesn't miss it: the millisecond where your eyes open and you look at him like he's the one you want to be kissing. The almost imperceptible moment where you're still imagining you're kissing Viktor and not him, where your irises shine brightly with so much happiness and love.

But it's already gone, like it never even happened, and you quickly wipe your lips with the back of your hand. You’re not in a beautiful London street amid a gentle downpour with your soulmate: you’re in a cramped shower in a motel, with a guy you don’t even vaguely care for.

“You should shave your stubble. It's annoying,” you mumble.

‘Viktor doesn't have one’, the sentence heavily implies. It stings, but he's not about to back off just from that either. Not when he's been given a chance like this.

“Viktor also likes it when kissing is a bit of a fight,” he adds, sounding much too eager and desperate for his own liking. “Biting, tugging hair, that kind of stuff.”

It's not a lie, per se; he's only ever seen Viktor kiss someone once, when they were undergrads. It was an end-of-semester party, and Viktor had had way too many vodka red bulls for a man of his stature and health. Jayce had found him on a couch, limbs entangled with a stranger who seemed equally as drunk, and absolutely devouring their face off.

Viktor had asked him to never let him near caffeinated cocktails again the next morning.

You look slightly skeptical, analyzing him for any signs of deception; it looks as though you find none, because you're the one who initiates this time, and there you are, the fiery woman he's fallen head over heels for.

You're going to war on him, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, savagely shoving your tongue in his mouth, one hand entangled in the hair at the back of his head while the other ferociously holds his throat in place, nails digging into his heartbeat. He responds eagerly, letting you mistreat him, encouraging you with muffled groans.

It hurts, and he wants it to never end. He can taste blood in his mouth, the metallic tinge making him dizzy, and he's so hard he could cum if you just touched his dick with a finger. He whines pathetically when you break the kiss for air, disoriented, a strand of saliva connecting you both still.

“A-aouch,” he can only manage to say jokingly.

You lean back against the tile wall, slightly breathless; you wipe away drops of red on your lip, smudging them down towards your chin, the look of a feral animal in your pupils. He feels his already rock-hard cock twitch. Hot.

“This is about what Viktor likes, not what you like. Toughen up, Talis,” you spit back.

Before he has time to formulate a reply, you're back on him, and now he's incapable of stopping himself from humping your thigh like an animal. You don't refuse him or push him away, even mercifully angelling your hip to the side to give him easier access. There's nothing but you, all over him, inside of him, tearing him apart and putting him back together. It's absolutely pathetic, and he knows it, but he can feel his release arriving in the pit of his stomach. He's wanted this for so long, there's just no way to delay it anymore.

It only takes a few more seconds before his orgasm hits him hard, the wave of pleasure making his whole body still as a plank, while you're still sucking harshly the vein on the side of his neck. He cries out once, broken and wanton, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.

He comes down from the high in time to see the last of his cum painting your hip white before it gets washed away with the water. You detach yourself from him unceremoniously, putting some distance between your bodies with a frown.

“Did you just…?”

There's no room for pretending here. He's just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life from nothing but a fucking kiss from you. It's like he's a teenager all over again, face redder than a tomato and eyes escaping yours guiltily.

“You came. You came by just making out with me,” you repeat, visibly caught halfway between incredulity and mockery.

“I just haven't gotten laid in a while, that's it!” he justifies vehemently. He needs to change the topic quickly, or you’ll never let him live this down. “I'm always busy at the lab doing the paperwork you always skip out on!”

That thankfully seems to take your attention away from his premature accident; he's never been so grateful for your short temper.

“Seriously? You’re going to bring that up right now?” you bark, shoving him in the chest angrily.

He can still turn this around. He might not have much control over his first release, today ridiculously so, but he's been blessed with excellent stamina and a very short recovery period. Jayce is good at selling himself with speeches, and even though you're usually immune to anything that comes out of his mouth, he's willing to cheat this once and use the one chink in your armour he knows about.

“Do you want to know what Viktor likes or not? Because I haven't told you anything about what he wants in bed,” he tempts you in a tone of indifference.

Your silence speaks volumes; he's got you again. Yes, it's incredibly manipulative, and when this is over he's going to spend hours turning over in his bed and despising himself. He’s always believed in doing things the fair way, the right way, and that one day he’d manage to lower your defences and etch a place into your heart all of his own merits.

But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

What kind of man does that make him?

That’s a thought he’ll just have to keep for later.

Taglist Darlings: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, @urfavlarry , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

"And then I text Bobby, make sure he's okay"

"Tommy, right?" Tommy turns to see a young woman, maybe early twenties. He had seen and met her briefly before.

"I don't know if you remember me from the medal ceremony? I'm Athena's daughter."

Tommy vaguely remembers, "Yeah, I-" her name is a month but he's blanking on which month. "I'm sorry, it's May or -"

She smiles, it's awkward and tight, but it's there as she goes to shake his hand. "It's May." She licks her lips and looks towards the direction of where Evan, Howie, Hen, and Eddie are standing at- they're in small group, their head bowed as they talk amongst themselves.

Tommy tries to give them space.

Bobby's wake is heavy and a lot all at once. Tommy tries hard to not cry and while he's giving Evan his space, he doesn't want to go too far.

"I'm sorry. About Bobby, I can already imagine how great of a step-father he was."

May nods, wiping away a few tears, "He was a great dad, I'm gonna miss him." She sighed, she looks over again. "I know it's none of my business, but are you and Buck together again?"

Tommy flinched, he looks down at his cup of water, unsure what they are or even if he could answer the question. "I rather not misinform you." He hopes it sounds diplomatic enough if it gets back to Evan that May asked him about their relationship status.

She sniffs, huffing out a soft laugh. "It's just-" she looks at Evan again, her brows furrowong with worry. "I know that Bobby saw Buck as his kid, and I know Buck saw Bobby as his dad."

Tommy knew that.

He knew what it was like to lose a parent.

He lost his mom.

He had seen people react to losing their parents during calls.

He saw Evan lose Bobby that night.

He watched the man he loved more than anyone breakdown in grief as he lost his father.

"I don't know if Buck has talked to you or the others about losing Bobby, I tried but he basically said it wasn't about him."

That has Tommy frowning now too.

He doesn't want to disclose what Evan has told him, he doesn't want to break Evan's trust and tell May that he's had to hold Evan as the other man sobbed till he fell asleep twice now.

"We've talked. He knows I'll be here for him as long as he needs." Tommy tells her softly.

"Good." May nods, "I-I know that Buck and I aren't close, but I-I just want to make sure he's okay."

Tommy hums in agreement, he notices that she hasn't stopped fidgeting since she approached him. "How are you holding up?" He asks her.

He sees May's eyes fill with tears and he quickly gives her a napkin from the table besides them that had a small serving of food and water.

"Thank you." Her voice sounds so wobbly and young that Tommy feels himself start to tear up. "I'll be okay," she sighs, "I'm just really worried about my mom. She isn't talking about what happened but I know her. I know she's angry about losing Bobby."

Tommy believes her, he had heard the others admit the same thing. Especially Howie, who was riddled with guilt about losing Bobby.

"She's probably not going to be in a mood to talk about what happened for a while, the best we can do right now is just be there for her and the others." Tommy tells her, he knows it's generic advice but it's the only thing that makes sense to him. He can't fix what happened, he can't make it all better.

He can't bring back Bobby.

As much as he wishes he could.

"I know." May tells him dishearteningly, blowing her nose on the napkin. "It's not fair." She admits in a small voice as she looks at her mom, Athena is consoling an older woman who Tommy thinks is Bobby's mom.

"None of this is fair." He agrees quietly.

-

There's pain radiating from his neck to his shoulders and he's pretty sure the cool damp spot he's feeling on his chest is from Evan drooling on him.

The living room is still pretty dark, but Tommy could see strays of light from the sun rising coming through the front window.

He squints at the timer on the DVD player.

It's just 6:38 am.

So they managed to sleep for at least 2 hours more.

Progress.

Evan had woken up from a nightmare. The same nightmare of losing Bobby and waking up in a panic.

This was the third time now and Tommy had used Evan’s phone of sending a text message to his therapist about booking an emergency session (with Evan's permission).

They had moved from their bedroom to the backyard to get some fresh air and drink some herbal tea and then moved to the living room.

He knew Evan slept better when they were cuddled together so he tried not to move despite the pain in his neck and shoulders.

He thought Evan was still asleep, but he heard the other man groan, his voice rough with sleep and pain as he asks Tommy, "What time issit?"

Tommy cards his fingers through Evan's sweaty curls, "Quarter to 7, almost." He presses his lips to Evan's hairline, believing the other man will just go back to sleep.

Instead Evan reaches over to the side table, the friction between them has Tommy gritting his teeth as Evan reaches over his head to grab his phone.

Tommy doesn't say anything but he can see Evan opening up his text messages and messaging Bobby.

'Hey, are you okay?'

Tommy doesn't say anything but he can see the message from the day before.

It's not a different number, Tommy knows that it's Bobby's number that responded back yesterday.

'Hey, are you okay?'

'I'm okay, Buck.'

He's not sure what to say or even ask as Evan lays his head down back on Tommy’s chest. The hand clutching the phone is splayed to the side and hanging off the couch.

Tommy knew about Evan messaging Bobby, it was something Evan started after coming out of a coma. It was something he did because, as Evan explained it, in the coma dream he couldn't save Bobby, so he needed to know that in reality Bobby was okay.

It was the first thing he did every morning since.

Now...

Evan's phone buzzed, and Tommy could only frown as Evan blearily looks as the screen.

'I'm okay, Buck.'

Evan huffs out in relief and let's his arm hang down again. There's a soft thud sound that Tommy knows is Evan dropping the phone.

"Athena's okay." He tells Tommy sleepily, there's an edge to his voice that Tommy knows is about nightmare.

Tommy clutches him and despite Evan's eyes are closed, he can see the tears clutching and falling from Evan's lashes and down his nose and cheeks.

-

"Hey."

"Hey."

Tommy passes a glass of lemonade to May as he sits next to her.

She looks at the glass and then at him, "Lemonade? Really? Tommy, I'm over 21."

Tommy purses his lips and tries not to smile as he take a sip of his own glass of lemonade. "I'm not giving the Sergent's kid alcohol. Even if the kid is an adult who has a degree from USC now."

May laughs, looking around the room at her graduation party. She had told her mom it wasn't necessary for them to celebrate her graduation.

But May figured the party was what was needed after coping with losing Bobby 8 months ago.

"How is he now?" May asks, nodding in the direction of Buck. He was standing with Athena and Michael and David, his face bright as whatever he was saying got the trio to laugh. Athena was clutching his arm, her head tilted back as Buck waved his hands excitedly around.

"Better." Tommy answers honestly. Evan was doing better, he still had rough days- days in where he would shut down and made Tommy worry.

But those days were getting farther in between now.

"How's Athena?"

May turns to him, smiling. "Better."

They look at Buck and Athena again, the two laughing together as David starts talking this time.

-

"Wasn't expecting to see you here, Buckley." Athena knows she sounds cold, but she can't help it. She's annoyed that Buck is here.

Buck isn't religious as far as she knew.

She had went to Bobby's church to feel something.

Anything besides anger and hurt.

Bobby's funeral was only a day ago.

She was going back to work tomorrow.

She needed to get her head back into the game by tonight.

She thought attending mass would make her feel better. She wasn't expecting to see a familiar head of curls sitting three pews in front of her.

"Wasn't expecting to be here." Buck admits, his voice is rough and Athena can hear the cracks in it. She looks at his face, his skin is blotchy and she sees how blood shot and teary eyed he looks.

She wasn't close to Buck.

But she knew how much Bobby loved him.

She knew how much Buck loved Bobby too.

She feels her lower lip wobble as she sits next to him.

"Is it helping?" She asks him, looking straight ahead because she knows she's close to breaking.

She doesn't want to break again.

"No." Buck admits tearfully, he sounds fed up. Athena still isn't looking at him but she hears him sniff. "I-I don't know, Bobby always relied on God to get through the bad days, I thought maybe if I came here-"

"That God could help you too?"

"Uh, no? I-I thought it could help me feel close to Bobby. I-whenever I had a bad day I would go to him."

Athena feels her eyes burn with tears again.

"Why are you here?" Buck asks her after awhile.

She feels herself become fidgety, her knee won't stop bouncing as she looks ahead still. "I figured coming here would bring me some peace for tomorrow." She answers half honestly.

She hears Buck scoff, "is it working?"

Athena feels herself tapping her nails against the pew, she feels tears start to fall. "No." She whispers as she realizes that despite her best efforts she breaking down again.

She feels Buck's arms go around her and she breaks more, clutching Buck's shirt as they both cry.

"I don't- I don't know how to move on from this, Buck."

"Me neither." He tells her once they pull apart, the crying was cathartic. Buck holds her hand tightly, needing something to ground him.

He looks nervous as he asks, "Uh, there's this thing. That I do with Bobby- did, I guess." He frowns as he corrects himself. He wipes away more tears as he tries to speak but his voice is horse. "I-I would message him, every-every morning and ask if he's okay."

Athena chuckles softly, she knew about Buck's early morning texts. How much Bobby adored it, it made him smile every morning.

"I know." She tells him, waiting for his point.

"I-I was wondering, maybe I -I could text message you now? I-I don't know when you're planning on sto-"

"Not yet."

Athena knows it silly to keep paying for Bobby's phone line but she can't do it yet.

"Sooo, maybe I can text message Bobby and you- you could answer?"

Athena looks at him.

Buck hangs his head down, his laugh sounds so self-deprecating to her own ears.

"Yeah, I know, stupid-"

She squeezes his hand, "I think it sounds like a great idea, Buck."

She knows that Buck has the 118, Maddie, and Tommy.

She has her kids and Michael has been there for her, so has Anne and Charlie.

But Buck was special to Bobby.

He was his kid.

And Athena didn't want to lose that part of Bobby.

Buck knew he wasn't Bobby's family, not officially. But he wanted to be. He wanted to make sure that the people Bobby loved where okay, but he also wanted to be apart of their lives. He wanted to have something to still tie him to Bobby.

Athena allowing him to be there meant the world to him. It meant he was really a part of Bobby's family.

"You going to be okay?"

"Getting there, you?

"Getting there too."

[chronicowboy]

sensin some undertone (bad idea right?) | 2.2k

Ravi is waiting for him in the locker room when Buck finally drags his feet into the firehouse. He's sure news must have spread by now whether through the Maddie to Chimney pipeline or Ravi himself. Everyone will know about the mistake-who-shall-not-be-named. He only hopes Maddie had the decency to keep the whole competition schtick from her blabbermouth husband.

Buck figured he'd have the five minutes it takes to get into uniform before he had to face the music, but Ravi meets him at the door with an awkward smile and the slightest hunch to his shoulders.

"Sorry," he blurts out, grimacing at himself. He shakes his head. "Sorry about Tommy. I shouldn't have ditched you like that. It was a real jerk move."

"Ravi, it's okay." Buck drops a hand to his shoulder and squeezes once before letting go. "I wasn't exactly great company, I see that now."

"No, no..." Buck shoots him a look. Ravi tilts his head in concession. "Well, maybe there was room for improvement." Buck shakes his head with a laugh and drops his duffel bag onto the bench. Ravi sits down beside it, stares up at Buck with those big brown eyes, and Buck wonders if Bobby would let him skip out on breakfast to call Eddie real quick. "But, for real, Buck. It was shitty of me. You just needed a friend, and I—" Ravi takes a deep breath. "I would like to be that friend."

Buck stills, glancing up at Ravi slowly like he might startle him into bolting out of the room. Ravi just shrugs a shoulder and averts his eyes.

"Y-yeah?" A pleased smile tugs at the corner of Buck's mouth.

"You don't need to be weird about it," Ravi mumbles, shrugging again. He takes another deep breath before aiming a cheeky grin up at Buck. "I have a few rules."

"Go ahead." Buck tries to get his grin under control.

"No quarters," he starts. Buck nods seriously. "No tequila—" Buck groans "—for me, you can still torture yourself all you want, but I will not be holding your hair back when you puke."

"Copy that."

"And." Ravi looks at him with something serious in his gaze, something levelling. "You're only allowed to say Eddie's name five times and that's me being generous."

"Y-yeah, that's, uh." Buck huffs a laugh and rubs at the back of his neck, hopes the heat bleeding into his cheeks isn't as visible as it feels. "That's probably fair." He clears his throat, flicks through Eddie's schedule in his mind, remembers he's picking up another Uber shift tomorrow whilst Chris has a sleepover. "Want to grab a drink tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Ravi smiles and stands from the bench with a tug to his shirt sleeve. "And I promise no pawning you off on your ex."

"Stop worrying about Tommy, man." Buck rolls his eyes, bites his lip. "It was good? In a way. Got a little bit of closure." Not the closure he'd wanted, not the closure he'd been expecting, the kind of closure that opens a whole different can of worms. "And I think I was just looking for a distraction. I'm glad I used him for that instead of you. 'Cause you're a good guy, Rav, and I'd hate to screw that up by getting tequila drunk and hitting on you."

"Oh." Ravi blinks, a little dazed. Buck squeezes his eyes shut and sighs at himself.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you-you uncomfortable—"

"No! No," Ravi says, eyes wide, voice just a bit too loud. He winces at himself, drags a hand down his face. "Sorry. I'm not uncomfortable. Flattered actually." Ducking his head, he laughs, a breathy little thing. "I, um, kinda had a little crush on you when I started here."

"Oh, really?" Buck grins, downright smug, puffing his chest out and preening like a peacock.

"Yeah, yeah." Ravi rolls his eyes. "Don't get a big head about it, Buckley. I'll let Cap know you're here."

(OR: ravi gave buck a distraction when he needed one, now buck can return the favour - what's a little mutually assured self-destruction between friends?)

[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.

[formulawonderland]

April, Fool

In which Lando doesn't quite think the date through

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none I think, unless you need a warning for cuteness

1.4k words

"Lando, come on, what are you doing?" you laughed as you were pushed out of the kitchen. You had just finished a lovely stay at home dinner date Lando had planned, complete with your favorite meal and dessert.

"Just sit down and take a break, okay?" he said, not-so-gently pushing you down onto the couch. "Let me clean up, and I'll be right back."

"You? Cleaning up?" you teased. "That's gotta be an April fool's joke."

"Oh ha ha," he said, rolling his eyes, but leaning in to give you a kiss on the forehead. "Just sit tight baby."

You sat back with a chuckle, watching him clean up the dishes before coming back over to you.

"Lan, what are you doing?" you chuckled as he leaned in and grabbed your hands, trying to tug you off the couch.

"I have a surprise for you," he said, still tugging gently at your arm. "Come on."

"And what if I don't?" you teased, sitting back with crossed arms.

"I'll make you," he said, suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the coich.

"Lando!" you shrieked, playfully hitting at his back as he carried you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance darling," he chuckled, walking you towards the balcony, the light hits not doing a thing against him. Damn him and his strength, it just wasn't fair how easily he could throw you around, and it definitely wasn't fair how much you liked it.

"What are you doing?" you asked again as he opened the door to the balcony, turning so you were looking out at the city and finally putting you down. "What's all this?"

The balcony, usually set up with just the small couch, your egg chair in the corner, and a few plants hanging on the railing, had been completely transformed. On the coffee table were three large bouquets, two of your favorite flowers with one of roses in the middle. Your chair had a basket full of your favorite chocolates and candies, and there was a plushie of your favorite animal.

The couch was covered in rose petals, and there were two heart-shaped pillows in each corner. There were balloons tied to the railing, and he'd added a pot with a small heart-shaped hedge to the collection of plants.

"Lando..." you breathed, slowly turning and taking in everything. "What- what's all this?"

"It's for you," he said, his eyes never having left you as you took in the scene before you. "Baby, I-"

He swallowed, reaching out and grabbing your hands. "I love you. I love you so damn much. And I don't know what I'd do without you. You're all I think about, you're the only person I want to run to at the end of the day. I don't even want to think about ever being with anyone else."

"Lan..." you breathed, squeezing his hands.

"Just let me finish sweetheart," he said, squeezing your hands back. "I'm so madly in love with you, it's mental. I'd do anything for you, anything you asked me to. I'd give up everything for you, and I don't ever want to live a day where you're not mine, forever."

"Don't do this," you said, swallowing down the lump of emotion in your throat. "Don't play with me like this."

"Don't- don't do this?" he asked, confusion crossing his face. "Baby, what-"

"Don't prank me like this, Lan," you said, letting go of his hands and turning away. "Don't do this. It's not funny. It's cruel."

"Baby, I'm not playing with you," he said, rushing forward and gently turning you around by the shoulders. "I don't- why would you think that? Why would you think I would do that to you?"

"Because it's- it's April fool's Lando, and if this is your idea of a prank, it's not fucking funny," you said, turning away again and wiping at your eyes.

"What? No no no, baby no, shit, that's not at all what this is," he said, tripping over his words in a panic. "This isn't a prank baby. Fuck, I'm so sorry, I should've checked the date, I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You're serious?" you asked softly, cutting him off.

"Of course baby, why would I ever play with you about something like this?" he said, a hint of hurt in his voice.

"I- I don't know, I just-"

You cut yourself off with a swallow, turning back to face him. "I don't know."

He reached out and took your hands once more, but cautiously this time, as if he was scared you would pull away again. "You know I love you, right?" he asked.

You nodded, and he continued.

"I would never joke about that baby. I love you too much for that. I- I'm so sorry, I should've paid more attention, I just- I don't know, I just didn't want to wait, and I thought-"

"Lando," you said, cutting him off. "It's okay. It's okay. I know."

"Fuck babe, I never meant to scare you," he continued, squeezing your hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry," you chuckled, the lump in your throat returning. "Just get on with it already."

"Impatient, aren't you?" he teased.

"With you? Always."

He smiled at that, squeezing your hands once more before slowly going down on one knee.

"I know I've already said a lot of this stuff, and I'm not the most poetic, but I love you," he said, looking up into your eyes. "I love you more than I thought I could ever love anything. I'd give you anything you asked for, and I want nothing more than to see you happy. I hate that I'm away so much, and I know there's not a lot we can do about that right now, but I want to have a piece of you wherever I go, and I want to know you have part of me too. I don't want there to ever be any doubt to how much you mean to me. I'd drop everything in a heartbeat if you asked. I just want to make you happy."

He swallowed, letting go of your hands and reaching into his pocket. The break gave you a chance to reach up and wipe at the tears that had escaped your eyes, getting choked up at his words.

"I love you with all my heart. And I know this is just a piece of metal and rock, but I need you to know I'm always with you. I don't care how far apart we might be physically, I'll always be there for you."

He paused, taking a shaky breath before opening the velvet box.

"I love you with everything I have. I don't ever want you to doubt that. So, will you do me the biggest honor of my life, and be my wife?"

You nodded, unable to come up with any words to say. "Yes," you finally managed to choke out. "Yes Lando, of course I will."

He let out a relieved laugh, setting the ring box down next to him and slipping the thin band on your finger. It was a marvellous thing, with a gemstone in your favorite color set in the center with a spiral of smaller gems looping outward on either side. The colors faded lighter and lighter, and the gems got smaller and smaller, until they met with the other side of the spiral, tucking underneath the main gem with an almost rose-like shape.

"It's gorgeous," you whispered, sinking down to your knees so you were at his level. "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too my darling," he murmured, pulling you forward I to him. You closed the distance, wrapping your arms around your shoulders and burying your face in his neck.

"I love you Lando," you murmured. "I'm gonna love you forever. I'm gonna be your wife."

"My wife," he repeated softly, a side smile crossing his face. "And I'll be your husband."

"My husband," you whispered, leaning back and cupping his face. "My everything."

You pressed your lips together, the kiss full of gentleness, tenderness, and promises of a life yet to come. The world might change, there might be hardships to overcome, but as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.

Author's note: so this is the first ever fic I've written or posted, so there's probably a lot of room for improvement, but I hope you like it! The idea came to me when I was talking to my friend about how I don't trust anything on April 1st, and it just evolved from that. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it!! <3

[pretty-circa006]

Dumb Little Slut

Negan x F! Reader

summary It was a stupid mistake, really, but she didn't think Negan would get this mad at her.

tags rough sex, boot worship, gagging, spanking, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, crying and dacryphilia, degradation and name calling, mild dub-con

wc 1.3k

note i totally forgot i had an ao3 account where i uploaded this fic, so when i remembered, of course the first thing i did was cross post it here! fair warning, this is something i would consider dark.

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

With Lucille in hand, Negan sat at the head of the table surrounded by Saviors as he awaited an explanation as to why they only came back with less than half the stuff they were supposed to.

Simon sighed. "One of the workers forgot to close the back of the truck and most of the stuff fell out." 

"Ya couldn't go back and get it?" Negan questioned. 

"We didn't notice until we got back." Negan sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was beyond pissed. Even though The Saviors would be okay without it, he still hated that half his shit was out scattered on the roads somewhere. 

"Who in the hell forgot to close the truck? I want a name and I want it now," he demanded with a slam of the baseball bat to the table. 

"[Name]," Simon said. Negan sighed. He should've known it'd be her. This wasn't the first time she's fucked up this stupidly and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last if he didn't teach her a lesson. 

"Bring her to my room. Dismissed." He stood up and stormed out before the others could. 

...

She nervously stood under Negan's harsh, hazel glare. He was sure she knew why she was here, because the first thing that came out of her were streams of apologies. 

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir! I thought I had closed it, honest!" she sobbed with big teary eyes. He grabbed a fist-full of her hair and forced her head back to make her stare up at him. She winced, which only motivated him to tighten his grip, earning a whimper from her trembling lips. 

"This isn't the first time you've fucked shit up," he growled, a dark look in his eyes. She started crying even harder, which made him smile. He roughly released her hair from his grip. With his gloved hand, he cupped her jaw, his thumb and fingers squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puffed out. He leaned down to her level, his face barely an inch from hers.  

"Your ass is so damn lucky I don't have that pretty fuckin' face of yours burned," he said lowly. He could feel her quivering in his hold, but she maintained eye contact. 

"T-thank you for not b-burning my face off," she choked out. 

He smiled his charming dimpled smile at her, but his eyes were still dark. With anger or lust, she didn't know, but either way she was afraid. 

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scot free. You know damn well you have to make it up to me." She nodded her head as best she could in his grip. He roughly let go of her jaw and shed off his leather jacket before sitting down in his leather couch. 

"Strip," he ordered once she was standing before him. 

"Y-yes, sir." She unlaced her boots before toeing them off. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her jeans before stepping out of them along with her panties and pulling her tank top over her head. Negan wolf whistled when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. Normally, that would've had her all hot and bothered, but this wasn't like the other times she's been called to his bedroom.  

"On your knees." She lowered herself to all fours and crawled over to him. She awaited her next orders like an obedient puppy. 

"Get yourself off on my boot." His boot was relatively clean, considering, so she didn't hesitate to put her bare clit on the toe of his boot. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with remorseful doe eyes. She began to  grind her hips on the leather, giving her clit the much needed friction.

"You are one filthy slut! Look at you gettin' off on my goddamn boot," he mocked. 

Without warning, Negan shoved his index, middle, and ring finger in her mouth, commanding her to suck, which she did eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the digits before he shoved them as far down her throat as he could, until the rest of his hand stopped him, causing her to gag around his hand.

"Thaaat's it, take it like a good little slut," he simultaneously praised and degraded. 

She continued humping his boot, coating it in her slick as she became more aroused and closer to her orgasm. The coil that built up in her lower belly was so close to bursting and Negan could tell by the garbled moans that came out around his hand. Every now and then, he'd press down on the back of her tongue, causing her to gag and more hot tears to pour down her face, making him grow even harder in his pants. She was about to come, Negan saw all her telltale signs, but this was a punishment and she didn't deserve to.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum, at least not yet!" 

He yanked his hand out, causing her to cough and picked her up from under her arms bent her over his lap. Her hard sensitive nipples against the rough fabric of his pants caused her to moan. He slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint before slapping it even harder a few more times. He could see her arousal pouring down her inner thighs. She was enjoying this far more than he'd like her to. 

"N-negan, please!" she begged, earning another slap to the ass. 

"You do not fuckin speak unless I tell you to," he said darkly. He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor before ordering her to crawl to the bed and get on it. He followed behind her as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, freeing his rock hard cock. It sprung up and slapped his abdomen. Negan was huge and she was honestly nervous to take him without prep. He never prepped her when he was angry at her. He stroked it a few times before lining it up with her leaking cunny. He slid his aching red tip up and down her slick slit before sliding himself all the way in and bottoming out from behind. She screamed out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

"What a slutty pussy, baby," he moaned. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size and started roughly fucking her with a bruising grip on her hips. As he pounded into her, he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of her ass. Wanton moans escaped her lips with every deep thrust. He tangled his hand in her hair before pulling her head back by it, earning a pained scream from her. His large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen as he got himself off. Her slick, velvety walls clamped down on his girth, a sign she was close. She clawed at Negan's hand, but he only gripped her throat harder. 

"Take it like the goddamned dirty girl you are, doll," Negan encouraged. The sounds and smell of sex filled the bedroom. He removed his hand from her throat when he felt her go limp in his hold. Slightly worried, he turned her onto her back while still balls deep in her pussy. His thrusts slowed as he lightly slapped her face a few times until she woke again.

"Don't go passin' out on me now, babydoll." 

He put her legs over his shoulders, bending her in half as he picked up his rough pace. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned his name repeatedly. He pawed at her tits as they jiggled with each thrust. His dick twitched inside her before he came without warning. He threw his head back as he moaned her name while emptying his white hot seed into her slutty pussy. She shook with her orgasm as she squirted around his now semi-hard cock, wetting his dark comforter. 

"That's my dumb little slut," he praised as he pulled out. His girl was lazily sprawled out on his bed, barely able to keep her tired eyes open as his cum leaked out of her. He sent a playful slap to her already abused cunny. 

"You won't be so lucky next fuckin' time, so I suggest you get your goddamn shit together before you get burned." 

She sleepily mumbled in response, too tired and fucked out for anything. 

this was originally posted on my ao3 account on 4/28/2024. i haven't posted on there since because people don't comment and barely leave kudos 🥲

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"

[firelightmlpoc]

This is Pansear (if you want proof, look at my pinned blog; I'm well aware that there are a lot of imposters out there). I wish to say thank you for being open minded while also acknowledging that- yes- I did fuck up at times. I didn't treat Azriel the best. I was selfish towards the MAP collaborators. I wasn't a particularly great person in general- all that I admit, and I have my own separate posts for those. Overall, I'm sorry.

The harassment was too much and the screenshots were obviously fake. It wasn't fair to me. It wasn't fair to anyone either including those who believed were fake too, even to future potential victims of allegations and former victims of harassment campaigns. I left not in admittance of guilt, but to everything else that has boiled over (again, I detailed this in a post).

I know there's people beaming to know that I'm alive and well (and of course, people who are angry that I'm not). I just want to say that I'm sorry for having to leave everyone in the dark for so long, and that I was basically a POS back then.

It saddens me as well that this whole situation not only affected me- it has affected most of the fandom. It has affected the other artists, who no longer feel safe and comfortable. It has affected my friends, who missed me and feel lost in the dark. It has affected my fans, who worry about me and feel so conflicted about everything. It has affected friend groups who are distanced in their conflicts.

Even for the things I didn't do, I still felt horrible. There were no winners in the end, and any winner I could describe are those vile people hiding behind anons who have hurt the most.

People can already predict that I will never return and that is definitely the case. Not just for the sake of my well-being, but I believe it's for the best for everyone in general. It's been far too long that I danced through the harsh weathers- some strange fucked up game of ping pong, and it's time to put it to rest. I don't care if people will hate me still, all I care about is everyones' safety and for those who have been hurt to heal from this.

I have no real say on the Emily side of things. Indeed what she did to Azriel was irresponsible, but she doesn't deserve the harm and harassment she's got and been getting. Nobody does. Not even my calloutters and my harassers. Looking at their responses and posts just makes me feel bad. I can't help but feel sorry for them.

I hope you yourself are doing well. To all others reading this, I hope you all are too. The fandom isn't the same but I know love can persist somewhere. I am leaving it all up to you to make this place so much better, and that one day everyone can laugh again.

For now, I'm hoping things can rest.

I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright. And as you’ve said: Yes, you have done things wrong, but the actions taken against you were far beyond the pale for what you actually did.

An apology backed by action towards self-betterment is a good apology, & is what you’ve shown to be doing, though I truly wish that the cost you’ve had to pay for this all wasn’t so steep. I hope that you’re still able to find enjoyment in your art still, & hope that you’re able to heal from all of this, even if it takes a good bit of time to do so.

May the path you walk no longer hurt to stand on, & may you find yourself at peace with all of it some day.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA *  assorted dialogue from the 2006 film, adjust as necessary

please bore someone else with your questions.

details of your incompetence do not interest me.

you know, i rarely say this to people who aren't me, but you have got to calm down.

something funny?

i'm still learning about this stuff.

you think this has nothing to do with you.

i think we need a jacket here.

my god! you look so chic!

is there some reason that my coffee isn't here?

has she died or something?

you thought i didn't know.

i've known what was happening for quite some time.

i never thought i would say this, [name], but i really see a great deal of myself in you.

you can see beyond what people want, and what they need, and you can choose for yourself.

i don't think i'm like that.

i couldn't do what you did to [name].

that was different. i didn't have a choice.

you chose to get ahead.

you want this life.

those choices are necessary.

what if this isn't what i want?

what if i don't wanna live the way you live?

don't be ridiculous.

everybody wants this. everybody wants to be us.

let me know when your whole life goes up in smoke.

learned a lot. in the end, though, i kind of screwed up.

you must have done something right.

find me that piece of paper i had in my hand yesterday morning.

my flight has been cancelled. it's some absurd weather problem.

i need to get home tonight.

let me see what i can do.

oh my god. she's going to murder me.

could i do that?

by all means move at a glacial pace. you know how that thrills me.

that's my problem because... oh, wait. no, it's not my problem.

i don't know what else i can do because if i do something right, it's unacknowledged.

so quit.

i don't want to quit.

that's not fair.

you are not trying. you are whining.

what is it that you want me to say to you?

you have no idea how many legends have walked these halls.

wake up, sweetheart.

i see your point.

that's all.

you have no sense of fashion.

that wasn't a question.

do you have some prior commitment?

i don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment.

you went upstairs?

i don't know what you expect me to do.

we're doing this for you.

you'll take what i give you and you'll like it.

can we adjust the attitude?

i love that. will that fit me?

you have some very large shoes to fill. i hope you know that.

who is that sad little person?

wish me luck!

you're already late.

i hope you two are very happy together.

that's an interesting choice.

you don't deserve them.

oh god, you're still there.

i thought you were kidding.

i'm out of excuses.

who's there? who are you talking to?

i'm sorry, what's your name?

do you have anything fun planned for this weekend?

i wouldn't care if you were out there pole-dancing all night, as long as you did it with a little integrity.

baby, i don't have a thing to wear to work.

how many times do i have to scream your name?

you're a vision.