#and usually games assume you know how those things work. but I didn’t. so it like. blocked me from moving forward in the game

[peapod20001]

The only Mario and/or Sonic game I actually LEGITIMATELY played and enjoyed was Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games

I knew NO lore or story for either of those franchises except the names of the characters you could play as

[nadvs]

I'm really sorry to request this for sleeping with the enemy but I'm a sucker for angsty fics.

But what about their first fight as a couple? Maybe they're fighting over a stupid thing and they are both petty and don't want the other person to be right?

(or they have makeup sex and everything turns out fine lol)

OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH. DON’T BE SORRY. angst will always be my fav 🙂‍↕️ (the length of this blurb is proof)

they got into arguments as friends but as a couple, they get way more emotional. they’re both confrontational and stubborn and have commitment issues that come out in different ways so it gets ugly 🫣

based on this fic

they’ve been official for almost a month now. as friends, their arguments were silly and usually short-lived, but this fight is nothing like those.

it was a saturday night at a house party on rafe’s college campus. they split off at one point in the night and when she went searching for him, she found him in the backyard, standing with a group of guys she hadn’t seen before.

the smell of weed hit her instantly. panic set in. if he gets caught doing drugs, his future is shot. one random drug test and he’ll be kicked off the team.

she approached him, resting her hand on his bicep, and said to him quietly but sternly, “what are you doing?”

rafe was drunk but caught the sharpness of her tone, looking down at her with a scowl.

“what’s with the attitude?” he muttered.

“are you serious? you can’t smoke. don’t be stupid about this.”

one of his friends overheard, letting out a dramatic hoot as he held a lit joint to his lips, clearly taunting rafe for being scolded.

“just go back inside,” rafe snapped.

his buddies jeered, chuckles scattering over the group.

“what?” she said.

he wriggled out of her grip, looking away from her. she huffed in disbelief before storming off, anger rushing through her.

it’s tuesday afternoon and they still haven’t spoken. all over a ten-second conversation. it’s how their arguments would always go as friends. both of them get mad, fast, then don’t talk for a few days.

but this is different. it hurts way more.

rafe went looking for her at the party later on and realized she left. he was her ride there so he called her a few times, worried about how she was getting back.

when she didn’t answer, he texted her: at least tell me you got home. she replied: home.

now, she’s sitting at a cafe on her campus, working on a paper. she opens their text conversation a few times a day, hoping maybe she just missed a notification from him. but all she sees is their last bitter exchange.

and even though she’s pissed beyond belief that he disrespected her, she’s following his home game today. she watches every game she can.

it’s been a close one for three quarters now. she has the stream playing, taking up half of her laptop screen. when the fourth quarter starts, she watches rafe continue to dominate the court.

but her stomach drops when she sees him fall after a collision with another player. because he doesn’t get up.

she makes the stream fullscreen, watching with wide eyes. he limps off the court. he doesn’t come back out for the rest of the game. her heart is twisted in a knot.

even though she’s angry and hurt that he hasn’t looked past his pride and called or texted, she already knows that she’s going to go over to his place later to check up on him.

it’s almost sunset when rafe parks his car, her campus blanketed in a warm orange glow. the past few days have been hell. now his ankle is throbbing in pain. and he still hasn’t talked to his girl.

he hates this. the way he’s always the first to make contact after an argument. it makes him feel like he has no backbone. he should stay mad at her. she assumed the worst. embarrassed him. she should be running after him.

he’s parked in front of her dorm building. he pulls out his phone and stares at his call history for a moment before tapping her name.

it rings a couple times. then he hears her voice.

“hello?”

“come downstairs,” he says sternly. “i’m in front of your building.”

she pauses before she answers.

“i’m not home. i’m at your house,” she tells him. “i just got here. liam told me you went out. you should be resting.”

rafe rakes his hand through his hair. even though their tones are terse, his stomach flips knowing that she probably still watched his game today. that she came over to see him after his injury. she sounds worried.

“stay there,” he says.

she hangs up, looking at liam from her spot on the house’s front step.

“i’ll just wait in his room,” she says. rafe’s teammate nods and steps aside so she can come in. after she asked him if rafe was home, her next question was what happened.

apparently, he sprained his ankle. she’s glad it’s not as bad as she imagined.

as she climbs up the stairs, liam calls her name.

“not my business,” he says when she turns to look at him, “but please figure this shit out. he’s been extra bitchy lately.”

she chuckles despite herself.

“did he tell you what happened?” she asks.

“no. he just keeps sulking. a bunch of us tried to get him to talk about it, but we got told to fuck off,” liam says with an indifferent shrug.

“i’ve never seen him like this, so i hope you guys fix whatever’s wrong. i know he can be…” he doesn’t find the right word. “but i can tell he really likes you. for what it’s worth.”

“thanks,” she says.

when rafe enters his room and sees her sitting in his desk chair, his body goes warm with a mixture of anger and longing. he missed her. looking at her. hearing her voice.

“you went to my dorm?” she asks.

he shuts the door behind him, leaving his keys and phone on his nightstand before sitting on his bed.

“yeah,” he says flatly. “to talk.”

he almost says something about how of course he’s the one who reached out first to try to mend things, but she must’ve come over with that same intention. or maybe not. maybe she came over to break up with him.

her eyes dart down to his ankle, her face crumpling with sadness.

“liam told me it’s a sprain. how bad is it?” she asks.

“bad,” rafe says, mostly so she’ll feel bad for him. when he sees her frown, he realizes it worked, and then he feels rotten for trying to manipulate her.

she has that effect on him. she makes him want to be a better person. he doesn’t want to be manipulative or cruel or angry. not with her.

“it’ll heal in a few days,” he adds to ease her worry. “i’m good. it’s nothing.”

“okay,” she says, clearly relieved. “i brought some ibuprofen in case you don’t have any.”

“why?” he says, still on edge.

“i’m still gonna worry about you. no matter how much you hurt me.”

she looks down as she rifles through her bag, pulling out the pill bottle and tossing it on his mattress.

“i hurt you?” he mutters, his tone sharp. “you think this is on me?”

“are you for real?” she matches his intensity immediately, her voice going louder. “you basically told me to get lost in front of your friends. they laughed at me.”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he scoffs with a pissed off, disbelieving smile. what she did was way worse.

“do you have any idea how humilating that was?” she snaps. rafe stares at her with a tight jaw. “i was worried. they do random drug tests all the time. what if they found it in your system? and you fucked up your future just because you wanted to get high at a random party?”

“you think i need you to do that for me?” he shouts. “think back. did you see me smoking? did i look high?”

“you were standing in a circle of guys who were passing a joint around,” she says. “it’s not crazy of me to assume.”

he shakes his head and scoffs.

“rafe,” she says evenly. “you disappeared. you looked like you were on something. i got freaked out.”

“and then called me stupid.”

“i didn’t call you stupid,” she counters. but she knows her argument is flimsy. her impulsive words were harsh. telling him don’t be stupid was basically calling him stupid.

“oh, my god,” he mutters angrily. he stands up, hands on his hips as he paces over to the door and back to the bed, trying to cool down, even on his sore ankle. “imagine i came up to you like that in front of your friends. you’d lose your shit way worse than i did.”

“please sit down,” she says. “you need to keep your weight off your foot.”

he doesn’t listen.

“i didn’t find you to fight with you that night,” she continues. she takes a deep breath, anger rushing through her veins. “i was just worried. and then you were mean to me, saying something about my attitude-”

“yeah, because you came over with a stick up your ass,” he says. “it was so embarrassing that you talked to me like that in front of people.”

“what, because i’m a girl?” she scoffs.

“because you’re my girl,” he snaps.

she stills, staring at him as he stands in the middle of his room. a few moments of tense silence sink between them.

“i had a few drinks,” he says. “that was all. i know about the drug tests. i’m not an idiot. i’ve been playing since freshman year. i was hanging out with some guys i know from one of my classes. they were smoking. i wasn’t. that was it.”

she lets his words wash over her.

“please sit down,” she finally says again, tears pricking her eyes. “please. i don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

she sniffles. he gives in and sits back down, elbows on his knees as he sits hunched over.

rafe swallows the lump in his throat, his gaze on the floor. he’s not used to someone caring about him this much. he’s always only had himself. even when he’s yelling at her, she’s pleading for him to rest.

he hates the feeling of being told what to do. but when it comes from her, it’s because she gives a shit. and that makes it feel almost okay.

“i’m sorry,” she says, her tone wobbly. “i shouldn’t have used that word. i shouldn’t have embarrassed you. i don’t think you’re stupid. i just hated the thought of you losing everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

she sighs shakily.

“but when you talked to me like that…” she says. “it made me feel so… small. they were laughing at me and you weren’t on my side. it reminded me of how those idiots started treating me after we started seeing each other.”

rafe’s lips twist tightly. so many of the guys on the team she cheers for and even some of the girls on her squad started alienating her, treating her like she was a traitor just for hanging out with rafe.

he knows how much that messed with her head. then the person she went through all that for embarrassed her in front of some guys who don’t even matter.

finally, his gaze meets hers. her stomach sinks once she sees that his eyes are glossy. she’s never seen him cry. he’s this affected? she thought he was just mad at her for being a bitch to him in front of his buddies.

“you told me before,” he mutters, “that you expect every relationship to crash and burn. you expect the worst from every guy you date.”

she blinks back tears. she did tell him that, word for word, back when they were just friends. it was a moment of drunken vulnerability when she was talking about how every man she’d ever been with just let her down. she didn’t think he’d remember it. that he’d apply it to himself.

“it was like you made your mind up,” he says. “you were already sure i was hiding something from you, already fucking something up.”

her forehead crinkles. she didn’t think that he’d see it like that.

“listen, i…” rafe exhales slowly. his anger has almost completely dissolved now that she actually apologized. now that she said it, he feels like he doesn’t deserve the sorry. she was just looking out for him. “i’m sorry, too. i was an asshole.”

she bites her lip. he doesn’t say more. she waits. and waits. and waits. but that’s his entire apology.

“okay,” she finally says, unsure of how to resolve this. she’s still carrying the weight of pain he caused her. he doesn’t seem to get how badly he hurt her.

“okay what?” he asks. his mind is racing. “okay like, this is over? you’re done?”

“no,” she says, her brows furrowing.

rafe looks miserable, sorrow etched into his features, and even though she’s still hurting, still mad at him, she seals the distance between them, moving to settle on the bed across from him.

“you know how shitty these past few days have been?” he says. “hoping you’ll text me but at the same time, hoping you won’t because what if the message says you want to go back to being friends? or just never want to see me again at all?”

the ache in her heart doubles.

“it didn’t cross my mind once to break up with you,” she says.

“really?” rafe meets her eyes again. he looks genuinely shocked by her words. she had no idea he was so afraid of being left. so sure that she’d give up on him so quickly.

“of course,” she whispers.

the tension in rafe’s chest slowly loosens from her reassurance. he comes closer, his guard crumbling. her hand is on his knee. he puts his hand over hers.

“this has been rough on me, too,” she says, sniffling. “i kept waiting for you to call. i hated that you brushed me off like that. and now it’s like you don’t even get how much you hurt me.”

this is a punch to his gut. but he deserves it.

“i was pissed. i wasn’t thinking straight,” he says. “and i… i called that night, remember? like five times. you only texted me that you were home and you never called back.”

her breath shakes again. he didn’t do enough. he can see that now.

“i should’ve kept calling,” he says. “i’m sorry, baby. i am. you were just looking out for me. i fucked up.”

his words make her anger lose its sharpness.

“so did i. i don’t expect the worst from you,” she mumbles. “i know how hard you work. i know you’re serious about basketball. i just… panicked.”

rafe needs to kiss her, to have the tangible evidence that she still wants him as bad as he wants her.

he leans forward, giving her the softest kiss he’s ever given her. he doesn’t have it in him to pull back. not when he’s missed her so bad that it hurts.

he gently presses his palm against the back of her neck, guiding her to nuzzle into him. he kisses the top of her head as she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

“i miss you so goddamn much,” he admits. “you have no idea how much i think about you.”

he feels her nod against him.

“me, too.”

“i’m sorry, okay?” rafe says.

“me, too,” she echoes.

they stay like that, curled into each other, hearts starting to beat in unison again.

as she breathes rafe’s scent, a warmth that she’s committed to memory now, she realizes they’re carrying more baggage than she would’ve expected.

maybe she does assume he’ll lie to her and disappoint her. it must be a knee-jerk reaction after so many failed relationships.

and he clearly has a fear of being left. he looked like he didn’t even believe her when she told him she wasn’t considering breaking up with him. maybe he never let anyone in before because he was sure they’d eventually bail on him.

but she knew they were both stubborn. both explosive. both their own version of damaged. it took three days and a long, tense argument to get here, touching again.

beneath the ache they share, she has hope. they came to each other to resolve this. this was their first fight as a couple and they made it out to the other end.

it might be hard sometimes. but as she feels his arms encircle her, heavy and warm and comforting, she knows it’s worth it. he’s worth it.

she lets out another shaky breath and he kisses the top of her head again. he can’t lose her. he won’t survive it if he does.

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ HALLOWEEN TRADITION

in which one you and reid match your outfits every year for halloween

tw: mention of shoo!ing, dea!h of an animal

contents: spencer reid x fem!reader, they're both obviously in love with each other, time skips

words: 7.5k

disclaimer: it's my first fanfiction written in english.

a year ago

“Oh, I already ordered. Caramel cappuccino, almond milk, double amount of vanilla syrup and cinnamon sprinkled on top, am I right?

“Your photographic memory is sometimes just terrifying”

“Thank you. By the way, are you still afraid to order this coffee in front of Rossi?”

“Yep. I always take regular macchiato. The last thing I need in work is his judgemental, Italian look…”

Meanwhile, as Reid let out a short laugh, you quickly took in your surroundings: the brick walls and oak tables, the decorative pumpkins by the entrance, and the menu hanging above the barista’s counter, adorned with (artificial) leaves. Just like every corner of this trashy coffee shop was trying to remind you about autumn.

 One thing about you — you were an extreme autumn lover, who unfortunately was allergic to pumpkins, so you couldn’t fit the autumn white girl stereotype completely, by ordering a pumpkin spice latte. And you would rather die than wear a sweater. All of them were scratchy. 

“So” started Reid, hitting a notebook cover with a pen. "I spent all of last evening and more than half of this morning writing down ideas for our Halloween costume this year. I made sure none of them were too similar to our last year's outfits or anything our friends have ever worn to make sure we’ll be the best-dressed people at the party”

“God, Reid, you really took it seriously this year” you raised your eyebrows, shocked and full of admiration at the same time. “And how many ideas did you find?”

“143”

“143?!” you repeated, assuming that he was just joking. Spencer was looking at you with a deadly serious face. “Are fucking crazy? How are we going to choose between 143 ideas? I can’t even choose what socks to wear in the morning…”

“144” he corrected. “When you were saying that I came with another one, Tyler and Marla from Fight Club…”

You had this tendency to forget the names of fictional characters (though, somehow, you could name every American serial killer who ever existed and everyone from your high school class. It was both funny and slightly terrifying that, in two cases, those names overlapped) so it took you a moment to realize who Reid was talking about.

“A guy with a red leather jacket? And this woman who was always smoking?”

“Their names are Tyler Durden and Marla Singer. I don't mean to sound rude, but you made me watch this movie and claimed it was one of your favorites, yet you don’t even remember the main characters' names?"

You shrugged your shoulders. You could say nothing in your defense, that was just the way you were. A subtle smile danced on your lips.

“When I started working with you” you meant the whole BAU “I couldn’t remember all of your names. About two months later I slowly started to recognize them because of how you were addressing each other but because everyone was calling Hotch by his surname I didn’t know his actual name for, like, years…”

Disbelief showed on Spencer’s face but then got replaced with amusement.

“Years?”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me because of my memory problem, mrs. I know the moon signs of everyone around me…”

He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

“How could I dare, ms. I don’t remember my boss's name even though we’ve been working together for five years…”

“I couldn’t remember it back then! Shame on you, Reid. I shared my secret with you and you immediately started laughing…”

“And what did you want me to do? Make you an appointment with a neurologist?” 

That's what our usual conversation looked like. Like a professional ping pong game. Year after a year, month after a month, day after a day you were just becoming better and better players. 

Waitress came along your table, setting your orders on the table. You always had to smell your coffee first, cinnamon aroma ticked your nose. 

“"Not that it means anything, but my memory problems have worsened since I met you." you said, taking the first sip of a coffee. 

“What do you mean by that?“

“Well, I don’t have the need to remember anything when you remember literally everything that comes your way. You've spoiled me a bit in this regard."

Spencer smiled softly, with a little bit of pride, caused by your words. 

“ Always at your service”  he declared. Suddenly his back went straight, as he probably reminded himself about something. ”Did you call your brother today? It’s his birthday… 

“ No way” you jumped on your seat and immediately started looking for your phone to check what day it was. 14 October. “God, Reid you’re right. I completely forgot…Have I already told you how much I love you? 

You standed up, ready to leave the coffee, declaring that you’ll be back in a moment. People around were having their lunch. The whole place became too noisy for a birthday phone call with your older brother, who lived in a different state. 

“Not today” He replied shortly. 

“So, I’m telling you now, Spence. You’re the best friend I could ever imagine…”

As you were busy with dialing the right phone number and trying to wear your coat at the same time, you couldn’t see how his smile faded after the last sentence. 

a week later

“It cost me like half of my salary” You said, tossing your dark hair back so it wouldn't accidentally catch fire while lighting the candle. A damn expensive candle, as you mentioned. “Another half goes for that little shit”

With a nod, you indicated the ginger cat that had already settled comfortably next to Spencer. He didn’t take his eyes off the laptop screen, checking something with a furrowed brow. With one hand, almost automatically, he gently scratched Mr. Cinnamon Roll behind the ear.

“It’s made only with fully natural ingredients. Vegan friendly. People with migraines friendly. Almost everyone friendly, except of your wallet” You continued your speech, agitated, recalling the guy in the store who refused to sell you a simple, cheap autumn candle, explaining its poor quality, and convinced you to buy the most expensive one he had.

Finally, the wick caught fire.

“So, you’ve got something?“

It was a late evening after work when you both felt exhausted, yet you decided to meet at your apartment to search online for essentials for your Halloween costumes. The idea of going as a couple from Fight Club had won.

You were supposed to be Marla, and he was to be Tyler. You weren’t a couple or anything like that, but for the past five years, it had been your tradition to wear matching outfits for the halloween party organized by your team. Usually, various other friends would join, and having more people allowed for a best costume contest, which you nearly won every year.

“Yeah, but you probably won't like that, considering that you’ve just confessed to spending your entire paycheck”

You set the candle down on the small coffee table in your living room and joined him on the couch, almost crushing Mr. Cinnamon Ball. He didn’t look offended by that — this cat would rather be crushed than leave Spencer’s side. Somehow, he loved him more than the hand that fed him. 

Sitting so close to your friend, your head nearly touched his shoulder, but neither of you minded.You had known each other for four years. You met regularly to watch movies or just to chat, and more than once, you had fallen asleep with your head resting on his arm, that was way more comfortable than any pillow. The rest of your team sometimes joked about your close relationship, but in your opinion, it was only because you were almost the same age! And maybe a bit because you felt the most comfortable in his presence, you understood each other the best, and he made you laugh the most…

For God's sake, why did you start thinking about that at that moment? When you were so close to each other and his gentle scent was slowly enveloping you...

Okay, you’ve thought of him as more than just a friend once or twice. Like that time he stayed over at your place, and you didn’t want him to sleep on the uncomfortable couch, so you shared your bed. You felt so good waking up next to him and regretted that it was just a one-time experience…

You realized he must have said something to you, but you were too lost in thought to hear it.

Instead of repeating himself, Reid pushed the laptop closer to you. On the screen was a website featuring an auction for….the original red leather jacket from Fight Club! You almost screamed. If you had won her over, the victory would have to be yours...

Your enthusiasm faded like a blown-out candle when you saw the final bid amount. 

“What the fuck? That's more than the total of our annual salaries…” 

 "Actually, it’s twenty thousand less than..."

You both fell silent in disappointment. Then, a very silly idea came to your mind.

“Reid” you started slowly. 

“"Oh no, I know this tone. You're either about to say something extremely absurd or something inappropriate, and I don’t know which one scares me more."

 "But listen. We'll wait for the auction to end and for someone to buy that jacket. Then we’ll talk to Garcia and convince her to track down the buyer. We'll go, knock on the door, and when they open it..."

"We’ll politely ask to borrow it?"

"No, sweet boy, we’ll show our badges and say the auction was illegal, and we need to confiscate the jacket."

Spencer burst out laughing.

"Your ideas are brilliant. But how are you going to explain this to Hotch afterward?"

“He won’t find out”

“He find out”

“Okay, you’re right. He’ll probably find out”

A silence full of smiles fell between you.

Spencer closed the auction page and started browsing something else when you let out a laugh at your own thoughts. 

“Okay, I have another idea that won’t cost either of us our jobs,” you said, capturing his attention. He tore his gaze away from the laptop and focused completely on you and your trembling lips, which hinted that you weren’t going to say anything serious “The beginning of the plan sounds the same but instead of showing our badges, you’ll give him a blowjob… “

“Fuck you!” he shouted, unable to stop himself from laughing. At the sight of his expression, a wave of laughter hit you so hard that Mr. Cinnamon Roll jumped off the couch and ran away from his sick owner. “I’m not giving any random guy a blowjob in exchange for a jacket. In exchange for the original diaries of Einstein, well, I wouldn’t say no; I would think about it, but not for a jacket!”

“But it’s the jacket from Fight Club, Spence. Brad Pitt was wearing it” you encouraged him, amused. "Besides, how do you know some guy will buy it? It could be a woman.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes and was ready to continue arguing on the topic, but suddenly it seemed as if he changed his mind. His expression grew more serious.

"Actually, it doesn't change much, but that's not the point. What worries me more is that I've lost my touch. Maybe you'd want to replace me in this? The buyer might not be satisfied."

He said it in a tone as if he were talking about a truly serious, real transaction, which only amused you even more. Also pretending to be serious, you patted him on the shoulder.

“Don't worry, Spence. I'm sure you'll manage just fine.'"

"Really? What makes you think that?"

You considered making a joke, but then you realized what you were talking about while studying him. After a whole day at work, he looked... surprisingly... attractive? With slightly tousled hair and two buttons of his shirt undone…

"‘Nothing,” you replied. For the first time in his presence, you felt slightly embarrassed to continue the topic. Your closeness on the couch didn’t help at all, and you regretted scaring off Mr. Cinnamon.

“No, something makes you think that” 

The tension between you escalated to the point where you weren't sure if he was still joking. You realized that in this silence, every change in your breathing would be audible, so you tried to control it. 

What makes you think that? Spencer just seemed that way. I mean, you often talked about your relationships, and you assumed that his potential partner would lack nothing.

Embarrassed, you wanted to say something when he suddenly burst out laughing.

"Jesus, we were talking about blowing somebody for a jacket. Why did you get so scared? 

You hit him on the arm so hard that he let out a groan.

"I didn't get scared! You just suddenly became so weird that I didn't know if you were joking or what” 

"‘Of course I was joking. Why would I ask you that seriously?” he asked, and you noticed that he also carried a hint of embarrassment.

"I have no idea. Maybe you wanted to know my opinion or something” You desperately tried to return to the atmosphere that had existed between you just a moment ago, one that felt more friendly.

Spencer swallowed hard. It was clear he also preferred to drop the topic. 

“I don’t know why you would have any opinion on that, but let’s get back to what we were talking about before you switched into perverted weirdo mode...’"

After his words, you had to hide your face in the sleeve of his shirt, unable to contain your laughter. He seemed surprised by your reaction.

“ What? What did I say this time?” 

“Perverted weirdo” you blurted it out, almost choking on your words.” You called me a perverted weirdo…”

“Well, considering your recent ambiguous comments…”

“I'm going to tell Emily about this. Hey girl, you know how Spencer called me last time? A perverted weirdo…Oh no, I got your shirt dirty with my makeup… “

Spencer looked at the sleeve of his shirt and shrugged, saying, "It's nothing."

"No," you shook your head, trying to rub the stain off his shirt with your fingers, but of course it didn’t work. "I spilled coffee on your pants last time. Take it off; I'll wash it today."

"It's late; you’re not going to deal with washing my shirt right now. Let's get back to looking for our costumes."

You agreed and once again found comfort leaning on his shoulder. He still held the laptop on his lap, and whenever you wanted to type on the keyboard, you had to rest your elbows on his body, on the lower part of his stomach. Why were you even paying attention to that? You shaked your head and leaned over the laptop when you found the perfect shoes for Marla's costume.

In that position, you couldn't see Spencer, but you felt he was almost completely still. After a moment, however, he slowly reached for your hair, gently brushing it with his fingers as if checking its texture.

"We don't need to buy you a wig, right? Your hair will do just fine."

You murmured in agreement as he continued to play with your hair, probably unaware of how much he was distracting you. You had been staring at the picture of the shoes for five minutes and couldn’t remember what you wanted to check. Ah, the size!

"Reid, we have a problem," you said. "They don't have my size. I checked to see if a larger size would be available, since I could stuff them somehow, but the smallest is a 10!"

"Your shoe size is 7; in such large ones, you'll either look ridiculous or kill yourself before even arriving to the party…Do they have to be those specific ones? Maybe you can find some others..."

"They have to be those! They're identical to the ones Helena Bonham Carter wore."

Spencer sighed thoughtfully. His breath tickled the back of your head, which distracted you slightly once again. Anyway, this one time, you came up with a solution faster than his brilliant mind…

You turned your head toward him — after he stroked your hair you were very, very close to each other. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes, filling the area with the scent of cinnamon that had lingered for a while. When your face unexpectedly came just in front of him, he looked at you with a surprise and a gaze that he had never given you before. It was as if he were trying to stop himself from doing something, while at the same time, a voice in his ear incessantly urged him to go ahead.

You looked away to avoid doing something foolish. You could feel warmth on your neck and cheeks. Finally, you remembered what you wanted to ask.

"Spence, what’s your shoe size?"

5 years ago

 It all started when the rest of your team found out about Penelope and Morgan's Halloween tradition. Every year, the two of them held a movie marathon of the scariest films they could find, watching them until sunrise.

 "Why didn’t you invite any of us? I love watching horror movies with friends!" Prentiss exclaimed indignantly.

You were on board a private jet. You had been working with this team for only a few days —  in fact, this was your first trip with them to work in the field.

The prospect of solving the case had you feeling stressed, and you were also wondering if you would find common ground with your team. You lagged slightly behind, pretending to read a book while actually listening to all the conversations around you. You wanted to get to know everyone better. Someone sat down beside you, leaning in to read the title of your book.

 "Rebecca. Have you gotten to the part where it turns out Maxim killed his wife?"

You looked shocked at the second youngest member of the team. You had a serious problem with remembering names, so you only knew his last name. Reid was a tall man with longer hair, dressed in a vest with a shirt peeking out from underneath. Until now, you hadn't formed much of an opinion about him, but that was about to change — he had just spoiled the ending of the book for you.

“No, I haven’t gotten to this part! “

An older man in a black suit chuckled quietly to himself.

"Guys, listen up," said the brunette with bangs, wearing a tight red shirt. "It just came out that Morgan and Penelope have their own secret Halloween tradition."

The woman mentioned was present only on the laptop screen. She was working with you remotely and seemed really nice to you. 

"Sweetheart, we weren't trying to hide anything from you; it just happened that we didn’t mention it..."

"That’s exactly what hiding is," Reid added, giving you an apologetic look for spoiling the book.

"What do you say to all of us getting together this Halloween? The whole team?" asked a muscular man dressed in gray, sitting across from Prentiss with his elbow casually resting on the table. "With a special invitation for you, newbie."

Saying this, he winked at you. You were surprised, but still smiled. Are there better circumstances for getting to know your team than a party? Everyone around you approached this idea. 

a week later

You stared at your phone in fear after just ending the call. JJ said something came up and she wouldn’t be able to make it to the party. You knew her best out of the whole team and had hoped that with her there, you would feel more at ease. Most importantly, you were supposed to wear matching outfits. You realized your breath had quickened slightly. You weren't sure if anyone else besides you planned to dress up. After all, they were mostly older than you —  maybe they weren't into that anymore?

 Back in high school, you were the only one who showed up in costume, and you felt embarrassed the whole evening walking around in a zombie farmer outfit while all the other girls wore mini skirts and beautiful, subtle makeup. You didn’t want to go through that again, but making this costume had taken you a lot of time. Recently, you and JJ had been enchanted by the animated movie Corpse Bride, and you planned to dress up as the title character and her rival, Victoria. Since you loved dressing up for Halloween, you chose the more challenging costume. You bought a cheap white dress that you styled to look more tattered. You applied pale blue makeup and heavily contoured your cheekbones. You even managed to get a veil.

In fifteen minutes, you were supposed to be at Morgan's house. If you removed the makeup, you wouldn’t have time to do anything else. You contemplated what to do. Ultimately, you decided it would be a shame to waste your hard work, and soon you found yourself in the car, heading to the address you were given. As you parked, you felt stress start to take control of you.

You needed to sit in silence for a moment, so you turned off the engine and stared at the empty sidewalk in front of you. Morgan lived in a large house in a quiet neighborhood, where all the homes were spaced far enough apart to host small gatherings without bothering anyone.

Suddenly, someone appeared by the driver's window. You screamed in surprise, your thoughts racing back to all the cases when women were killed in their own cars. 

You quickly realized that it wasn't another UNSUB. That one wouldn’t have screamed alongside you.

“Damn it, Reid, you scared me!”

“You scared me too” he managed to say, placing a hand on his chest. He glanced toward the house. "Weird that Morgan hasn't come out to help yet."

“Maybe the music is too loud and he didn’t hear. There are quite a few cars. Did they invite that many people?” you wondered as you got out of the car. 

Reid glanced at your costume. He wasn’t dressed up at all, just wearing a plain dark gray blazer and a shirt.

"Is that some fashion trend, or are you dressed as a zombie bride?"

“Neither, actually,” you replied, feeling stressed about being the only one in costume. “It’s from the cartoon Corpse Bride.”

“I haven’t seen it,” he admitted as you both headed toward the entrance of the house.

“It’s a great animation,” you recommended. “You should check it out. Although, from what I’ve noticed, you prefer reading more.”

“Not entirely. I like movies too, but I rarely choose cartoons,” he said, ringing the doorbell.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” you replied.

A very short girl you'd never seen before opened the door. She seemed slightly tipsy, confirming your suspicions that people from outside the team had also been invited.

"Oh, you dressed up! How cute!" she said, delighted to see you both, even though she didn’t know you. "Wait, I think I even know who you are. Emily and Victor from Corpse Bride?"

She pointed at the two of you, at your dress and his gray blazer. You exchanged glances, realizing she must have mistaken his usual clothes for a costume.

"No, we’re not…" Reid began to explain.

"Actually, I was supposed to match costumes with JJ…"

But she wasn’t listening. She let you in and shouted through the whole house,

"Look at their matching outfits!"

Everyone gathered around to see you, and you endured the whistles and applause with growing embarrassment.

Penelope appeared right beside you, placing her hands on your shoulders and inspecting your makeup closely. "Oh, sweetheart, you really went all out. This must have taken you ages."

"Which is more than I can say for you," joked Prentiss, holding a beer bottle and pointing it at Reid. "You decided to keep it a secret for a better effect, I assume?"

Reid tried once more to explain that it wasn’t intentional, but you stopped him with a nudge. He looked at you, puzzled.

"Let’s go get a drink," you suggested.

Not waiting for a response, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.

"I’m not going to be the only one in costume, so you’re going to stick with me and pretend we planned this all along."

He let out a surprised laugh, thinking you were joking at first.

"Wait, seriously? So… I’m Victor now?"

"Yes, you’re Victor, and you accidentally proposed to me. By the way, I’m dead."

"Okay," he blinked, processing the information. "I definitely need to watch that movie."

You spent almost the entire evening sticking close to each other. Without you by his side, Spencer looked like he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. And without Spencer next to you, you felt a bit awkward.

A few hours later, the two of you were sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking non-alcoholic cocktails and talking about… psychology. Not exactly a party topic, but somehow that’s where your conversation about favorite sodas had ended up.

“Next year, we have to do this again. I mean, plan a costume together. On purpose this time."

Spencer nodded.

"I think I even have an idea."

And that was how your tradition began.

now

He said Halloween is for kids. 

Starting from the beginning, everyone always asks how you met Travis. Well, your story has some potential for a romantic comedy — if only you were a bit more attractive and funnier to make it more watchable on screen. And maybe if there were some breathtaking plot twist. But real life has little in common with a romantic comedy, and you didn’t meet under any crazy circumstances. You only had potential. It happened during your rehabilitation.

Perhaps we need to go back a bit further. Six months ago, Emily passed away, and you weren’t even there for the funeral because, in the rescue attempt to free her from Doyle’s hands, you were shot. Seriously wounded. You spent two weeks in a coma. That might not seem like a long time, but when you woke up, it felt like years had passed. Everyone around you seemed so distant, changed, almost as if you’d suddenly appeared in an entirely different reality.

The following weeks were even more blurred, like rain hitting fiercely against the window with such frequency that the droplets slowly merged into a single cohesive stream. You weren't accepting visitors while in the hospital; something was wrong with you. Perhaps it was due to the grief and shock from Emily's passing, along with the trauma. You didn't want to return to that job; you were too afraid of the risks. Of dying yourself or losing someone from your team and having to relive it all over again. Fortunately, you quickly received an offer for a transfer. An office job, terribly boring, but there was something in that monotony that filled you with a sense of safety. You hated it, but you were afraid to engage in anything else.

Before you took the job, you had to go through rehabilitation. It was led by Travis, eleven years older than you, which stunned your older brother when you introduced them. “You’re dating a guy older than me?” he asked, shocked. They didn’t hit it off, but you didn’t worry too much about that. Everything in your life had changed, and being in a relationship with an older, more mature guy made you feel more stable. And since so many things had changed, why not go all in? You moved in with him. Just as you were starting to climb out of the pit, another tragedy struck. Mr. Cinnamon Roll was diagnosed with stomach cancer and passed away despite treatment.

Since that moment, you almost stopped talking to your old team. You still loved them — they were like family to you, but whenever faced with life's struggles, you felt that burning need for isolation. On the day Mr. Cinnamon Roll died, you received a message from Spencer, asking how you were doing and suggesting a meeting. You stared at your phone for hours, and ultimately replied to him only the next morning with a brief, "Sorry, I didn't notice you wrote." He responded just as briefly. He was also suffering due to the circumstances and probably didn't have the energy to chase after his friend who openly refused to give him any attention.

You pushed him away because you weren’t ready to confront what you were feeling. Something had happened between you during that Halloween party, shortly before Emily's death. After that, you acted as if nothing had occurred, but both of you knew that you needed to talk about what to do with your relationship. But before you had the chance, there was Doyle, your accident, then Travis, and it seemed that everything that had ever been between you was lost. A new agent, Ashley, joined the BAU. You knew her —  you were around the same age, and sometimes you caught yourself wondering if something might blossom between her and Reid.

You thought that if you accepted the loss of your previous life, it would be easier to move on. It was the opposite. Day by day, you felt more and more depressed, empty inside. This morning, you went into a café to buy coffee. While waiting for your order, you looked at the tiny pumpkins on the counter and realized it was Halloween—the holiday you used to love so much. This moved you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of life within you. You felt like you wanted to do something. Dress up as a character from a cheap horror movie, have a few drinks. Maybe even go trick-or-treating, hiding behind a mask like kids do. You did that with Spencer two years ago, but no one wanted to give that tall guy any candy.

You shared this idea with Travis.

And he said that Halloween is for kids. 

a year ago

“How the fuck I’m suppose to walk in these….”

As soon as you saw him in a black dress that reached mid-thigh (it should have been longer, but you bought it when you still assumed you would be the one wearing it), a short fur coat of the same color, and sunglasses, you nearly choked on your laughter. And when he added black heeled ankle boots and started cursing their practicality, you fell onto the couch, unable to stand on your legs any longer.

Mr. Cinnamon Roll watched his antics with curiosity.

“Run away, little one,” Spencer advised him. “Those heels are so sharp I might accidentally kill you.”

“Don’t exaggerate. I wear shoes with higher heels every day.”

“Your spine will thank you for it in ten years.”

“Alright, mom.”

The deadly shoes landed on the floor. You were planning to leave in an hour and a half, once you finished perfecting your costumes. Until then, Spencer had no intention of risking his life by parading around in them. He lay down on the couch next to you, the dress ungracefully riding up.

“Now it’s your turn to change,” he said, pointing to the Tyler Durden costume lying on the table. “And mine to laugh.”

“First, I wanted to do makeup.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Are you kidding? What kind of Marla Singer would it be without a bold smokey eye?”

“Fine by you,” he muttered, looking at the watch on his wrist. “One hour and thirty-three minutes. Will we make it?”

“Relax. Remember, for a better impression, we need to be a little late.”

You disappeared for a moment into your bathroom, only to return with a makeup bag in hand. You had bought a new eyeshadow palette specifically for this occasion. Tilting your head to the side, you looked at your friend, wondering in which position you would be most comfortable working on him.

“Okay, lean against the couch,” you instructed, feeling like a professional makeup artist. “And don’t look at me like I’m a mad scientist trying to perform some dangerous operation on you.”

“From my perspective, that’s exactly what it looks like. A mad scientist and a dangerous operation. Just don’t accidentally poke me in the eye.”

“God, Reid, I’m not going to do this with a knife…”

You stood in front of the couch, facing him. Following your instruction, he rested his head, but as soon as you tried to apply the first product on his eyelid, you felt that you weren’t doing it precisely. You sighed.

“It’s uncomfortable for me to work this way. I have a better idea. Lie down.”

Reid looked at you with raised eyebrows but obediently lay down on the couch. You sat on a free spot next to him, leaning over his face. You were glad he closed his eyes. It would be awkward to be this close and still have to endure his sharp gaze. Your hair brushed against his neck. A gentle smile appeared on his face as soon as the brush touched his skin.

“This is quite nice,” he said.

You didn’t respond, focused on turning him into a doppelgänger for Marla Singer. You would sooner die of embarrassment than admit it out loud, but you deliberately prolonged the entire process. You felt as if you were working on a painting. Additionally, you enjoyed the awareness of having him beneath you, so defenseless and completely unaware, that you wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

You would simply press your lips together to see what would happen. There was a possibility he would push you away, but even considering that, you were ready to do it. You didn’t even try to push those thoughts away. They had completely dominated your mind, and you were just observing them from the sidelines, wondering where they came from. Throughout your years of friendship, you had never experienced them. Or rather, you had experienced them so rarely that you didn’t consider them significant. After all, everyone sometimes feels like kissing their friend. The problem was that for quite some time, the only thing you had been thinking about was his lips on yours.

Spencer opened one eye. You felt as if he had caught you doing something wrong.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.

You brushed aside the one strand of his hair that had strayed onto his forehead.

“About one of my friends.”

“You look worried. Can I ask why thinking about this person makes you feel that way?”

You let out a quiet laugh. You wondered if he knew you were talking about him. He should have.

“I doubt you want to hear about it,” you replied evasively. However, after a moment, you broke down and added something more. “Do you ever feel like you want to do something stupid so badly that you feel like you're physically shaking, even though you know it’s wrong?”

He frowned slightly. You accidentally applied too much eyeshadow, licking the tip of your finger to wipe away the excess product from his skin.

“Can you give a specific example of such behavior?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Kissing a friend, for example.”

He smiled gently.

“Well, in that case, yes. All the time.”

You exhaled through your nose, feeling a painful tightness in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening to you.

“Done,” you said, abruptly rising from the couch. “I need to change. We don’t have much time.”

“There’s still an hour and eighteen…”

You grabbed your costume from the table and hid in the bathroom, not hearing the end of his sentence.

one hour and eighteen minutes later

Usually, nighttime drives had a calming effect on you, but this time it was completely the opposite. You were in a small space with Spencer, with whom you had just had… let’s call it a complicated conversation. You felt every part of your body tense.

You hated yourself. You hated that you didn’t understand what you were feeling. You hated that you didn’t know what you wanted. You felt like banging your head against the steering wheel. Maybe the sound of the horn would bring you back to your senses.

Reid just stayed silent, inscrutable.

“I’m afraid we’ll be right on time,” he said after clearing his throat. “And you wanted to be a little late.”

“So what should I do now, drive around the city for the next ten minutes?” you asked, slightly irritably.

He shrugged stiffly.

“Or stop and wait. It’s a much more environmentally friendly option.”

In the end, you pulled up outside Morgan’s house, where the annual Halloween party was set to take place for the fifth year in a row. You sighed with nostalgia and turned off the engine. You might have been in the middle of an emotional crisis, but you still intended to win that contest. And that meant waiting out those ten minutes.

You adjusted the sleeves of your red leather jacket.

“Remember when we dressed up as Harry and Voldemort?” you asked suddenly. That had been your first intentional costume pairing.

Spencer let out a short laugh.

“For the next two days, I couldn’t wash off all that white paint,” he muttered, reaching into the black purse you had lent him. Spencer had been outraged that mini dresses had no pockets, leaving him with nowhere to keep his things. You frowned when you noticed he had taken out his wallet. From it, he pulled out a photo taken on that memorable day, showing the two of you standing in front of the fireplace at Morgan’s cabin. You had your arms around each other, Voldemort and Harry Potter.

“You carry our photo in your wallet?” you asked, touched, admiring the picture with delight.

Slightly embarrassed, he nodded.

“And not just ours,” he reached into his wallet again, this time pulling out a photo of Mr. Cinnamon Roll curled up on your lap. You leaned closer to Spencer to get a better look, almost forgetting about your earlier conversation.

You extended your hand, but instead of taking the photo, you just grabbed his hand. He squeezed it tightly and briefly kissed the back of it.

“It’s been ten minutes,” he announced, letting go of your hand. “We can go inside now…”

He trailed off as you suddenly grabbed a piece of his fur and pulled him as close as possible. You felt as if someone stronger had taken control of your body and finally did what you had wanted to do for a long time. You were kissing him.

At first, he froze as if spellbound, completely surrendering to the pressure of your lips. You pulled back a little, unsure if you should continue.

“Why did you stop?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked it.”

He laughed right into your mouth and resumed the kiss in a hungry way.

“I wanted to do it earlier,” you admitted after a moment. His eyes were shining, and yours probably were too. “When I was putting on your makeup. You had your eyes closed, and it was all I could think about.”

His hand rested on your neck, his thumb gently drawing circles on your sensitive skin. You had your arms around his neck, entwined like strands of hair in a braid.

“Good thing you didn’t,” he said. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I’d venture to guess we wouldn’t have even made it to this party.”

“Don’t get too bold with your assumptions. I wouldn’t let such good costumes go to waste…”

He kissed you one more time, pulling you close by the chin. Okay, he was right. If you’d done this earlier, you’d probably still be at your apartment, entirely wrapped up in each other. In fact, you’d lost all interest in going to that part

You spent a good few minutes smiling at each other, foreheads touching. You felt the need to talk to him — to make sure this wasn’t just a release of the tension that had been building between you recently, but something more. Before you knew it, though, you were walking arm-in-arm toward Morgan’s house.

“This year, you’ve outdone yourselves,” he commented as he finally came out of his shock at seeing Spencer in heels. He, too, was in costume. For the past four years, it was almost impossible to find anyone there without one. You could say you were the ones who started the trend.

Without letting go of his hand, you encouraged him to spin around in a circle. All evening, you wondered if people noticed that something had changed between you or if they just assumed it was all part of the act. His hand almost never leaving your waist, your conversations with faces close together, the prolonged disappearance in the bathroom under the pretense of fixing his makeup.

“Have you thought about what we’ll dress up as next year?” he asked, pinning you against the upstairs wall, his hand slipped under the fabric of your loose shirt.

You looked into his eyes thoughtfully.

“I liked the idea of Mia and Vincent from Pulp Fiction.”

“Mia and Vincent. White shirts and fake blood. Don’t you think it’s a bit too simple? We should raise the bar each year.”

You rolled your eyes.

“So, what is your suggestion?”

now

 You lay in bed next to the sleeping Travis, staring at his bare back.

Every day, he started with a run around six in the morning, so he didn’t let you drag him anywhere in the evening, despite it being Friday. You tried to fall asleep, but you knew it was useless. You’d always been a night owl. Besides, it was Halloween—your favorite holiday, and for the first time in years, you were spending it with your head on the pillow at 10 p.m.

You sighed and quietly, so as not to wake him, went to the living room to watch some show on TV and maybe have some ice cream. Sitting on the couch, you constantly felt the urge to reach out and pet Mr. Cinnamon Roll, who used to keep watch by your side. Each time, it ended with you touching the cold leather of the couch instead. You buried your face in your hands, stretching the skin on your cheeks.

You couldn’t live in this emptiness any longer.

It happened so suddenly. One moment, you were curled up on the couch, and the next, you were slipping back into the bedroom to grab one of Travis’s plain white shirts from the closet. Just regular black jeans. The only thing missing was fake blood, but you decided you’d just be a more polite version of Mia.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest as you drove. Doubts crept in, and the absurdity of your behavior caught up with you. It was highly likely that your previous team had stopped organizing those events due to circumstances. And even if they were still happening, why would you feel invited? You had limited your contact with them, almost cutting it off in recent months.

Your breath was painful as you pressed your hand against your side, where a scar from a gunshot wound marked your skin. The red light of the traffic signal turned into the flashing lights of an ambulance. You were inside, bleeding, the whole world blurring around you.

You tried to calm yourself so as not to accidentally cause an accident. However, that tragic feeling didn’t leave you even when you found yourself there again. For the fifth year in a row, on Halloween night, at Morgan’s doorstep.

Derek opened the door for you, wearing a plain t-shirt. No music was coming from inside, and no cars were gathering around. He blinked in surprise at the sight of you.

You greeted him sadly, ready to throw out some excuse, though none came to mind. You had shown up unannounced, unwelcome, when he was probably spending the evening at home working or resting. A flush of embarrassment covered your cheeks.

Before either of you could say anything more, Penelope appeared behind him. She wore a headband adorned with little pumpkin decorations.

“Morgan, we have a serious problem with picking a movie because Hotch…”

She stopped, stunned by your presence. But a moment later, she shouted your name and swept you into her embrace.

“Oh, why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming!”

Over her shoulder, you could see Derek’s gentle smile.

“We went back to basics, and instead of throwing a party, we’re just watching movies,” he explained, eyeing you closely. “But costumes are always welcome. You’re not even the only one who thought to dress up.”

Both of them pulled you into the living room, where the rest of the team was arguing about which movie to watch. As all eyes turned to you, you felt like someone had forcefully shoved you onto a stage and blinded you with a spotlight aimed directly at you. Lost, you didn’t know what to say.

Then your gaze landed on that one person sitting alone in an armchair. Dressed in an identical white shirt and a black blazer draped over the arm of the chair.

You managed to smile at your Vincent.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 3 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys get called out to a mission after you get injured during a game, and your past finally catches up to you.

Word Count: ~ 4k

Warnings: minor character death, guns, blood, injuries, lil bit of angst, ptsd, panic attacks, episodes, and yeah

A/N: alr I’m kinda making it up as I go, but I feel like I’m slowly getting better at making accented dialogue…hope you enjoy<3 (also thinking of making it gaz x reader x soap, or just johnny?? lmk what u think)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The longer they stayed in your home, still keeping eyes out for any of the terrorists in the area, the more they noticed some of your odd quirks.

Simon was the first to notice many of them, due to his years of experience in the military, and all of the skills he’d acquired during that time. He observed every little thing, whether it be on purpose or unconsciously.

Like how you always locked your door after entering or leaving, both locks as well. Not just one. Or the way your windows remained shut and locked, dark curtains pulled over most of them to block out any light or keep someone from looking in.

There was a knife under your pillow, and a small gun in the drawer of your nightstand. Simon would know, he’d searched the entire house when they’d first arrived, not sure if he could trust you or not. You had a gun safe in your room’s closet, and the screws on your room’s hinges were slightly unscrewed, as were every door in the house, so it would creak every so slightly when opened. So you could locate everyone in the house.

It reminded him of his habits a bit too much.

But you also had a kernel of authority to you, despite sometimes mumbling instead of speaking clearly, or the tiniest of nervous ticks he could notice, like how your lips would twitch left when unsure or insecure. Despite your stone-faced look now, you still had a few of the same tells that the little girl he’d known all those years ago did.

He only wondered what had happened to that little girl.

But he knew she’d grown up. And what he saw in you now wasn’t what he recalled from the girl he’d threatened in the past, the girl he’d intimidated and scared into staying away. Because now, you didn’t seem afraid of him at all. Not afraid of his comrades, either.

You were different in more than a few ways, now. He knew foster care had been rough on you, with god knows how many families taking you in only for money or being abusive. He barely knew the general timeline of how long you’d been in it. He’d heard tiny bits of it you’d offhandedly mentioned, and you seemed to have found a more permanent home at 12, staying until moving out here, looking for what most teenagers are, a meaning and some freedom.

But he hadn’t known just how rough it had been.

You’d gotten home from work looking beat one night, wearing some jeans, a uniform shirt, a belt, and per usual a holster for your gun. You always insisted on carrying it, and he didn’t blame you. Bad things happened to girls who lived alone here.

You didn’t even take any time to eat or change before walking into your room and collapsing into bed, asleep in a second. Work always seemed to tire you out, for whatever reason, but maybe they had you doing all kinds of shit he didn’t know waitresses did. Who was he to assume?

“She should eat dinner, at least.” Price said, watching from the couch as Johnny pouted slightly. He’d cooked a meal, especially for you, albeit Gaz had done most of the work and helped him out, basically making the entire dish, poor Soap had been waiting all day to try it.

“I can go get her?”

Kyle suggested, and Simon’s deep rumbling voice spoke up next, glancing over to your closed door, a neat “Do not enter.” sign on the front.

“She don’t like when people go in ‘er room.”

“Well, she’s breakin’ poor Soap’s heart.”

“She’s yer sister, why don’t you go get the lass.”

“She’d beat his ass, that’s why.”

Simon gave an exasperated sigh, getting up from where he’d been sitting next to Price, watching a soccer game. He approached your door, slowly opening it as it creaked. The lights were off, the room completely dark as the windows were also covered by the thick curtains you kept.

You’d made it clear that no one was allowed in your room before, but it looked normal to him. The walls were a shade of your favorite color, or what he assumed was, fairy lights with clips on them holding pictures of you and friends, and even a picture from years ago of the family, hanging from wall to wall. There was a desk at the front, papers thrown about and some neatly arranged. The clothes basket smelled vaguely of an irony tang he didn’t bother to investigate at the time.

A mirror hung on the other end of the door.

Walking quietly up to you, he watched you for a moment. Your body was deathly still, breathing quietly but a bit shaky. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, the movements erratic and frantic.

Despite himself, Simon found himself intrigued by the papers on your desk. Why had you bothered to keep them out of your room? What were you hiding? His military career kept him on his toes at all times and kept him suspicious of everyone.

After all, it was the people you trusted that could hurt you the most.

Walking silently over to your desk, he began going through papers. Gaz and Soap, now both watching through the doorway, made little hushed whispers of “Wha’ are you doing??” and “Jus’ wake ‘er up-“ that he ignored. The papers were all basic, nothing interesting.

Essays, research papers, lots of notes. But just when he thought he wouldn’t find anything, he slid open one drawer as it creaked slightly as well, finding files in it. Paper, Manila folders that were thick with information that he found himself curious about. However, just when he reached for the first one, he heard Johnny.

“Behind ye, Lt-“

The cold metal of a gun against the side of his head became more than apparent as someone kicked the backs of his knees in. A gun to his head, on his knees, with Gaz and Soap now in the room, hands up, carefully trying to approach him.

“Easy, lass. We ain’t gonna hurt ya..”

Johnny tried, and that was when Simon realized it wasn’t some enemy terrorist who had gotten in who was holding him at gunpoint, no, it was you. He hadn’t even heard you approach. Hadn’t heard you get out of bed or move at all.

But he did hear the hammer of the gun click back.

The first thought he had was that he was being betrayed. Double-crossed. Either that or you were having some sort of episode. Price approached the door, watching you like a wounded animal. Unlike Simon, he could see the way your eyes weren’t there, that you were somewhere else, in an entirely different world, doing what you thought was right.

Price slowly approached, bolder than both of the Sergeants, but with a practiced precision. He’d done this before. They could tell.

“Can you tell me who you’re pointin’ a gun at?”

He asked, voice unwavering and not full of pity, but instead understanding. He watched your eyes slowly trail from the gun to Simon, now completely still, and held a hand for Gaz and Soap to stay where they were. He could tell when the realization slowly began dawning on you, that you weren’t in danger, and that this was Simon.

A tiny click, the safety being switched on, before you took the gun from Simon’s head and set it on the floor, kicking it away from you to Price. Usually, you wouldn’t sleep with a gun on your person for this reason. By the time you would open the nightstand to grab it, you’d usually have already snapped out of it.

Sighing deeply, you slumped on the floor beside Simon as he slowly relaxed, and you curled up into a ball. You didn’t say anything, and neither did they. Price took the gun, standing and walking out of the room, giving a nod to Gaz and jerking his head to Soap as the Captain and Johnny left the room.

Kyle remained nearby, just in case, but didn’t say anything.

“Didn’ know you had it in ya to hold a gun to my head,” Simon said, trying for a bit of humor to make you laugh, or even hear a snort in reply, or even a snarky comment about how stupid he was. When you didn’t do anything, he silently sighed.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Every night.”

He made a small grunt at that. He could understand nightmares a bit too well, considering the demons of his own he had. He put an arm slowly around you, and when you didn’t stiffen, he considered it okay as he slowly stood, picking you up. However, as soon as he picked you up, you mumbled something under your breath and squirmed free, standing on your own.

“Let’s get ya some fresh air.”

He said, leading you out of the room. He took one last glance at the open file drawer and decided that you had your secrets, and he had his, and it could stay like that until either of you was ready to change it.

~

Nothing had changed since that night, other than one thing.

No one tried to wake you up again.

However, you remained as sassy and slightly stoic as usual, still caring for them, and now savoring every one of Johnny’s dinners to make up for the one you’d missed that night.

When they showed up covered in blood, sweat, and tears, you would take it in stride, patching them up and grumbling about buying more medical supplies, washing their clothes, and buying razors for them because, “A beard does not suit any of you but Price.” You’d even bought food they liked, albeit making them cough up some money for it, because of the job you had at some little restaurant they’d never heard of before as a waitress. You only really worked the job on some weekends, when you weren’t on a big absence for traveling during volleyball season, or at camps.

Your manager-landlord was surprisingly lenient about it, Simon thought. But considering all the weapons you had, he wouldn’t be surprised if a little threat went a long way.

He’d always wondered what you did at those volleyball games, anyway. That was until Price spoke up about it at breakfast one morning when you hadn’t left early for practice, and Laswell had eventually just informed them to lie low until further orders came.

“You oughtta come out wit’ us, get out the house a lil’.”

Johnny had suggested, and Gaz had given a little affirming nod. Simon remained silent, quietly watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t, got games today.”

You replied without even glancing up at them, eyes on your plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the usual. You always had games, training, work, or school. With a schedule as busy as that, none of them knew how you managed it, but it left little to no time for you to simply relax or hang out with them.

Johnny grumbled about something with his mouth full of eggs when Price spoke up.

“Why don’ we go watch, eh? You been havin’ me help wit’ the plans, might as well.” He suggested before taking a big bite of bacon. You paused at that, glancing up at Price, studying him, before swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I’ll think about it.” Was the only answer they’d gotten at the time, but around thirty minutes before the game, you’d texted Simon the address, which was enough of a sign for him to get the boys and head over to your school, walking in the gym and paying for their entry. Six dollars for an adult, players were free.

To be fair, they tried their hardest to dress in civilian clothes and act normal, but it was hard when their instincts screamed to check every corner, keep eyes on the windows and doors, and scan for possible entries and exits.

You and your team were already practicing by then, setting up a hitting line, one setter in the front middle, two lines of hitters taking turns, and two passers in the back row bumping the ball to the setter, who promptly set it, and the hitter smacked it over.

Many of the girls were tall, and while you weren’t too short, standing at around 5’7 now, you weren’t the tallest either. That might’ve been the reason that you were mainly a back-row passer, also taking into consideration the control you held over your hits and body as well. The other team got full court to practice before the game for 2 minutes, which must’ve been the usual around this area.

“They bette’ win this,” Gaz murmured, seated to the left of Price, who watched as another girl on the team whispered something in your ear that had you biting your lip to hold back a smile. You were close with these people, they could all tell that.

“Our lass’ got it, I’m sure.”

Johnny said, watching the other team practice while Simon did the same. Simon’s attention was then diverted back to you, as any hint of laughter or amusement faded from your expression, into the stone wall he’d come to know. With a notebook in hand, you went over something with the rest of the team as they all huddled, the coach nearby and nodding along with it as they pointed something out with a pencil in hand.

A few adjustments must’ve been made before a game of rock-paper-scissors was played between the two coaches to decide who got first serve. The other team did. Already off to a disadvantage, he thought.

You all took up your positions in the court, Simon not recognizing anyone but you, with your hair, braided tightly back by one of your teammates, and the bright red jersey everyone on your team wore. You were number 14. He vaguely remembered Johnny mentioning something about you wearing a jersey in the number 14.

You were in the top right position, tucking any stray pieces of hair that had gotten loose somehow behind your ears, before all of your team was in position. The serve was hit over by the other team, and a brunette in the back row passed it to the setter, who made the ball go in a perfect arch in your direction. You began the approach of the ball, jumping up, arm held back, and ready to spike it. The blockers for the other team jumped, ready to deflect any ball, but right when you were going to spike it, your left non-hitting hand tipped the ball over the net.

Right between the blockers.

“Cleva girl,” Gaz said with a small smirk, and Soap lowly whistled. You didn’t glance up at them, expression remaining still despite the clever move.

It hit the floor, and a whistle sounded. Your team’s point. A rotation was done, and you were serving. They watched you toss the ball up, approach, jump, and smack it down all in less than 15 seconds before you were back in your spot, ready for the ball to be returned.

“Bloody hell..” Simon said, watching the two teams volley. He didn’t know many of the rules of volleyball, only Price knew most of them because of some of your late-night conversations on strategies to use with your team, but he was pretty damn sure you were doing good.

Your team moved in fluidity with each other, and it made Simon wonder what the hell you’d been putting these girls through in those training sessions, and what your coach had been doing. It reminded him a little of his team, his Task Force. The way you all knew each other, how high a set had to be for one specific person, the way one girl would slightly skew her bumps to the left, and the setter would move accordingly, or how to interweave without bumping into one another.

And the way you held everyone together… reminded him of Price the most.

When someone messed up, you didn’t yell or look disappointed, you simply glanced at them, acknowledged them, and gave a small nod. The same when someone pulled something off well. When you won the first set, you didn’t let your team gloat in the victory for too long.

And when you were losing the second set? Your teammates got a bit skittish, sure, but the way you remained almost totally unaffected kept them together. You were the glue of the team, keeping everyone out of their heads and in the game.

The second set was lost, but the third set remained.

“They play the last one to fifteen’.”

Price informed the boys after they’d sat up a little more, on the edge of their seats, bodies taught with stress. Kyle could’ve sworn Johnny was sweating a bit.

It went over fifteen, as you had to win by two points, and it was currently 15-16. One more point and the opposing team would win. But three more points and your team would.

Price’s phone began ringing.

A harsh serve from the opposite team and the bump was skewed by an anxious redhead in the back row. It went too far to the side, and you were running for it, but it looked too far away.

Two steps away.

Price was talking quietly to whoever was calling, his work voice on. Simon was too focused on you to care about the phone.

You weren’t close enough.

One knee went down closer to the ground, and your remaining foot kicked off the ground as your body dove for it.

A grim tone from the Captain as he nodded to whatever question Gaz had asked, while he ended the call.

Only a foot away.

Your hand flattened against the ground just as the ball bounced off of it, your head smacking hard against the floor.

Price muttered something to Soap, who tried nudging Simon, but didn’t get his attention, his eyes on you.

Your team played the ball off of the save, and the opposing team lost the point. The whistle was blown while the game was 16-16, mainly because you weren’t getting up. Out cold.

Simon shot to his feet, already, heading in your direction. There was red spreading on the floor, and he was back in his family home, looking down at his mother’s crumpled body, flashes of his little nephew’s bloodied corpse, and his brother’s shredded body coming into view.

He wasn’t there fast enough, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He had failed.

Before he could go down even a single step, Price’s hand came down onto his shoulder firmly, holding him back. Grounding him. As he turned to face the Captain, Price spoke.

“It’s Laswell. Urgent, they need us.” He spoke quietly, and Ghost could only look on as they picked up your unconscious form from the floor, a part of your blond hair dyed red with the liquid oozing from it, and carried you away.

“She’ll be alright, Lt. Let’s go,” Soap said, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him along like a lost puppy. Gaz and Price were talking about something in front of them as they walked out.

The moment they got to the car, Price pulled their uniforms out of the trunk.

“Jus’ in case,”

He said, tossing them to each respective man, and Price drove while the rest of them changed in the car. The moment Simon slipped his mask on, he willed himself to forget about anything regarding you.

The job came first.

~

Your head was swimming and fuzzy. Your limbs refused to cooperate properly.

You recognized your bed, the dark curtains on the windows, and the smell of your room, covered in the perfume you always wore. Your vision was blurry, too blurry to simply be from sleeping.

Swallowing, you tried to sit up, only to find your throat dryer than a desert and your limbs shaky and weak. You made a small grunt when you tumbled from the bed to the floor, vision blurring more before going slightly back to normal. As normal as it could be right now.

You heard a small female gasp and your bedroom door opened with a creak. One of your closest friends from the volleyball team, Nalani, walked in, immediately going to your side.

Her brown, bronze skin reminded you of Gaz, and her long, dark intricate braids you’d always been amazed by hung in a ponytail behind her. Sure, you two might’ve fooled around a bit a few months back, but that was behind you. Behind both of you. She was a friend, just a friend, even if friends didn’t usually share beds and know how each other tasted.

But you trusted her more than most, that was for sure.

She’d seen your scars, heard what you could tell her without endangering her life, and she hadn’t backed away. She’d embraced it with you. Even on your worst days.

“You just busted your head open, you need to stay in bed.”

She mumbled, putting you back into the bed after lifting you. She’d changed you into your favorite pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. It was only when she began going on and on about how stubborn you were, that you noticed a blur of movement in the doorway.

You’d seen Simon’s friends leave earlier. Assumed they’d been on a mission again.

You began pushing against Nalani, and she looked confused.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Your throat was too dry and cracked. You rasped to get something out as a gun poked around the corner. A silencer on it.

“Down, get-“

You tried pushing her down, the other hand reaching for the gun in your nightstand, fingers fumbling to find it. You were too late.

A near silent shot, and there was a hole in the back of her head that you couldn’t see but knew was there. She crumpled to the ground as you tried again to grab your pistol from the nightstand drawer, only to realize that Price had never returned it after that night.

Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the knife from under your pillow, a hunting knife, and threw it, watching as it embedded itself into the man peeking around the corner’s neck.

One down.

More came, though. Too many. Your vision blurred as you heard male voices talking, a shot down by your legs, but not quite hitting.

They were trying to disable you.

Your head was throbbing, adrenaline making you forget grief in the moment. Pain exploded through your veins as you felt a bullet whiz past you, nicking your right arm. Three men stormed the room, clearing it, before one of them came into sight, kneeling to be eye level with you.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, yes? The Wasp’s Nest is not as secure as you thought. We’ll get our retribution.”

He spoke mockingly to you, before shoving a white bag over your head. Other voices filled the room, quiet, but loud enough for your dwindling consciousness to catch.

“…useful?”

“It’ll work……able to….again.”

“…knock her..”

“Roger that..”

You felt the blunt force of the back of a gun being slammed against your head, and your vision went black.

If you’d told the truth, then maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened.

But in the end.

The job came first.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

[kelru]

UNSOLVABLE MISTERY

Romance, Fluff SFW

word count: 991

"𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆," 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕.

"𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕?" 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓. "𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late afternoon, and the usual bustle of the Armed Detective Agency had quieted to a murmur. Most of the staff had already left for the day, leaving you and Ranpo alone in the office. The sky outside was painted with soft shades of pink and gold, casting a warm glow over the room. You had been tidying up, trying to stay busy, while Ranpo lounged on his couch, seemingly lost in thought.

Despite the quiet, something was gnawing at you.

Ranpo, the greatest detective, always had a way of knowing everything—everything—even things you hadn’t told him. But lately, he’d been… different. Subtly different, in the way he looked at you or the way he lingered near you, though he said nothing. It was driving you mad.

He had solved countless mysteries, cracked impossible cases, and yet, there was one thing you didn’t understand: him.

You sighed, tossing a file onto your desk with more force than necessary.

"What's bothering you?" Ranpo’s voice cut through the silence, lazy but sharp. He didn’t even open his eyes, but you could tell he was watching you, as he always did.

"Nothing," you muttered, turning away from him. You had no idea why you even tried to lie to Ranpo. He’d see right through it anyway.

Ranpo made a small sound of amusement, stretching his arms over his head. "You’re a terrible liar, you know."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how your pulse quickened. "And you’re insufferable."

"Part of my charm," he replied smoothly. There was a pause, and then he added, "Come on, spill it. I already know you’re frustrated."

"Of course you do," you mumbled, though a smile tugged at your lips. This was Ranpo, after all—he always knew. "I just… don’t get you."

He finally opened his eyes, sitting up a little as if intrigued. "Me? I’m pretty simple, actually. Greatest detective, lover of snacks, solving mysteries before breakfast. What’s not to get?"

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to go down this road. It wasn’t that Ranpo scared you—he didn’t—but his sharpness, the way he could dissect people’s emotions without effort, made you nervous. What if he already knew how you felt?

But, well, this had been bugging you long enough. You took a deep breath and turned to face him. "How come you know everything about everyone else but keep so much of yourself a mystery?"

Ranpo blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the question. For a moment, he said nothing, just looking at you with those piercing green eyes, and you almost regretted asking. Then, with a soft smile, he leaned back against the couch again.

"I don’t keep things a mystery. I just think no one bothers to ask."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Really? No one?"

He shrugged. "Most people assume they already know me. Why ask about someone who seems to have all the answers? Besides, I’m not that complicated."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "But you are complicated. You’re always so sure of yourself, so confident. It’s like nothing ever gets to you."

Ranpo tilted his head, watching you curiously now. "Why do you care?"

You opened your mouth to answer, then stopped. Why did you care? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been asked a thousand times by Kunikida or Dazai about how Ranpo could be so infuriatingly calm about everything. But this was different. You didn’t just want to know how his brain worked, like some detective game—you wanted to understand him.

You wanted to know why he never seemed vulnerable, why he never opened up. And, though you barely dared to admit it to yourself, why he never seemed to notice you the way you noticed him.

"I don’t know," you said softly, suddenly feeling exposed. "Maybe because… you act like you don’t need anyone. And I don’t understand how someone can be so sure of themselves all the time."

Ranpo was silent for a long time, studying you with an intensity that made you want to squirm. Then, much to your surprise, he smiled—a softer, almost fond smile.

"That’s not a mystery you’ll be able to solve," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

You furrowed your brows. "Why not?"

Ranpo stood up, walking toward you with an ease that made your heart race. He stopped just in front of you, his eyes meeting yours, and for once, you couldn’t read what was going on behind them.

"You won’t solve it because I don’t want you to," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion swirling in your chest. "You’re not making any sense."

Ranpo chuckled, leaning closer, his face inches from yours now. "I make perfect sense. You’ve been trying to figure me out, haven’t you?"

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "Maybe."

"Because you like me."

Your breath hitched at his bluntness. "That’s… not…"

Ranpo’s grin widened, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Don’t bother lying. I already know."

Heat rushed to your face as your heart pounded. He was doing it again—getting under your skin, seeing right through you. And worse, he wasn’t wrong. Not even a little bit.

"I’m the greatest detective, remember?" he said softly, his voice teasing but with an edge of something deeper. "I’ve known for a while."

"Then why didn’t you say anything?" you blurted out, feeling both embarrassed and annoyed. How long had he been keeping this to himself, just waiting for you to crack?

Ranpo’s smile softened as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, almost tender, and it made your heart race even faster.

"Because I wanted you to figure it out," he murmured. "I wanted to see when you’d realize that maybe… just maybe, I’ve been thinking about you, too."

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. "What?"

Ranpo’s gaze softened, his usual arrogance fading for a moment as he looked at you—really looked at you.

"You think I’m hard to understand," he said, his voice gentle. "But when it comes to you, I’m pretty simple. You’re the only one I want to be around. The only person I actually enjoy spending time with. And if that’s not obvious enough for you, then maybe you’re not as sharp as I thought."

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. Was he… was Ranpo actually admitting to feeling the same way?

He leaned in closer, his face just a breath away from yours, his eyes searching yours for a sign. "Now that I’ve solved that for you," he whispered, "what are you going to do about it?"

Your pulse raced, and without thinking, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

Ranpo smiled against your lips, and for once, he didn’t have anything clever to say.

[welcome-to-jay]

How many Ace Attorney cases would be solved immediately if they used the Divination Seance?

For those who don’t know, the Divination Seance is a mechanic introduced in the 6th main Ace Attorney game: Spirit of Justice. The way it works is that a spirit medium communes with the soul of the dead, and makes their final memories visible in the Pool of Souls. All of their senses are displayed, from what they saw to what they heard to what they smelled before they died. In game, the Divination Seance is usually used to Phoenix’s disadvantage (obviously), but what I wanted to know is what would happen if the Divination Seance was used in cases that took place not in the Kingdom of Khura’in. If the court could see what the victim saw seconds before their death, how much would that fuck over the real killer? Let’s go through the death of (almost) every single victim and find out: would this case be solved if they used the Divination Seance? This will be updated with each game every day, unless I forget.

(Thanks to my buddy Keepay for helping me out with this! He did all of the AAI 1 and 2 cases because my memory on those is pretty fuzzy.)

Things to Remember: 

Divination Seance is derived from the victim’s memories, meaning if they don’t recognize a person’s voice, they won’t be able to identify it.

Divination Seance only works if the victim’s true name (and less importantly, what they look like) is known.

The victim has to actually be dead for a Seance to be possible.

Ace Attorney 1

Cindy Stone - YES

Frank had already broken into Cindy's home when she walked in, so there’s no way she wouldn’t have seen him before he bludgeoned her. A Divination Seance would clearly show this.

Mia Fey - NO

At first, this looks like the exact same situation as the Cindy Stone case. Mia and Redd White were face-to-face before she died, so he would’ve clearly shown up in the Divination Seance, right? 

But then there’s that damn updated autopsy report. 

Edgeworth stated that Mia lived for a few minutes after she was hit, and Divination Seances only show the last few seconds of the victim’s life. This means that the Divination Seance wouldn’t have shown the actual bludgeoning, or Redd White. As suspect as that updated autopsy report is, Edgeworth himself said that he never forged evidence, so we have to take him at his word here. 

Jack Hammer - YES

Dee and Jack were face-to-face when she pushed him. I don’t think we ever learn the details of their struggle, so maybe it would still be unclear whether or not it was self defense on Vasquez’s part.

Robert Hammond - YES

Again again, Yanni and Hammond saw each other before Yanni shot Hammond in the heart. We don’t get a lot of details about what happened in the shack, but we have no reason to assume this wasn’t the case. I promise these are gonna get more interesting.

Gregory Edgeworth - MAYBE

So in this case, the Divination Seance would show that the defendants (Miles Edgeworth and Yanni Yogi in this case) are innocent, but wouldn’t show who the culprit is, so I’m gonna say at the very least, it’s partially solved. The Seance would reveal that Gregory didn’t die when Miles threw the gun, and that all three of them passed out before the second gunshot was fired. However, we know from Von Karma’s testimony that Gregory was unconscious when he was shot, so he wouldn’t have seen his killer’s face. 

But! Miles said that he heard Von Karma scream right after he threw the gun, obviously that means that Gregory heard it too. The question is, would he have recognized it as Von Karma’s voice, and would it have shown up as Von Karma’s voice in the Pool of Souls? To answer that, I point you towards Inga’s Divination Seance. Here he recognizes the voice he’s talking to over the phone as one of his subordinates (after a refining from Rayfa) but even after it’s proven that Datz was the one laughing over the phone, the sound still shows up in the pool as just “Laughter.”

This is why it’s important to remember that the Divination Seance is derived from the victim’s memories. Inga recognized his subordinate's voice (but probably not his name, lol) but he didn’t know what Datz’s voice sounds like, at least not well enough to recognize it. In the same vein, Gregory would absolutely recognize Von Karma’s voice because they just spend the whole day in court together, as well as them meeting during the investigation. 

Now what this really all boils down to is if Gregory would recognize Von Karma screaming in particular. Miles didn’t recognize the voice even though he also knew Von Karma, but he was also a stressed and delirious kid when he heard the scream. Gregory’s memories are probably more reliable, and he’s probably heard Von Karma shouting either during the Inherited Turnabout investigation or the trial afterward. But, as much as I wanna say this is a yes, we can’t know for sure.

Bruce Goodman - YES

After that long-winded explanation, we’re back to another easy one. Bruce and Damon were alone in the evidence room when Damon did the deed, so he would clearly show up in the vision, or at the very least, his voice would be heard.

Neil Marshall - NO

This is another Gregory situation, but unfortunately much more unclear. Neil was unconscious when he died so he wouldn’t have seen Gant but at least it would be clear that neither Ema or Darke killed him. Neil had already knocked out Darke when Ema pushed him, and it would’ve been clear that Neil didn’t die from Ema’s shove, but much later. Of course, since Neil was blacked out, the argument could be made that Darke woke up first, and simply stabbed Neil while Neil was unconscious. Even with the Divination Seance, there’s no way to prove that Gant did the deed.

(Hey, check the reblogs if you wanna see the full version!)

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 23)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (22)

Masterlist (other parts here)

“You can’t wear that.” Lucy said from behind her.

She spun around, surprised. “Is it… does it look bad?”

Lucy moved up behind her, turning her back around to face the mirror again, her arms coming around her and her chin finding her shoulder. “You look so stunning, that I won’t be able to keep my eyes off you.” She admitted huskily into her ear. “Also, it just so happens that there will be a lot of single, attractive female footballers and I don't want any of them gawking at you or trying their luck.”

YFN laughed, her hand reached to find the back of Lucy’s head. “You know, if I were in a room filled with all of the people in the world, those I knew, and those I didn’t, the first person I’d look for would be you, Luce.”

Lucy liked that. Her grin appeared and she kissed her cheek, hard. And then softer with butterfly kisses down to her neck until it tickled.

“Ai lovebirds! You decent?” Katie yelled before she flung the door open anyways with a grin on her face and a bottle of whisky in her hand.

“Katie!” YFN yelled excitedly and jumped on her. Katie laughed and hugged her tightly.

“Hey chick, how’re you?!”

“I’ve been a little better..” She admitted as she found her feet and gestured to her little bandage above her eye. Her black eye was now just a tinge of light yellow, easily covered by makeup.

“Chick!” Caitlin had her arms out behind Katie and YFN fell into those also. “Missed you.” Caitlin said into her ear. YFN didn’t realise how much she missed the Australian accent.

“I missed you guys too.”

“You only saw each other a week ago.” Lucy grumbled, her jealously a little obvious.

“You should know, Bronze, a week’s trainin’ is like a month’s trainin’,” Katie laughed as they clapped hands.

YFN caught Lucy’s eye and she knew they were thinking the exact same thing. 13 days.

Caitlin stepped around YFN to greet Lucy as Jordan appeared, looking sexy for their night. YFN gave her an intentional up and down look and then winked at her. Jordan grinned proudly. They’d wanted Jordan to look her best because… why not? YFN’s intentions were primarily to build her confidence, though she assumed Jordan’s were more along the lines of a “fuck you” to Leah, wanting her to see what she gave up. Either way, she supported it. They moved to the living room and YFN turned to Katie.

“What are we in for tonight?” She asked nervously. Lucy moved to her side, a hand slipping around to hold her hip. Lucy was obviously already feeling the goodbye, and so needy Lucy was here for the night, it seemed. Luckily it was her favourite. She leaned into her.

“SORRY! Sorry!” Beth yelled as she came through the door. “We were on the phone.”

“Beth was on the phone.” Viv corrected, looking less than impressed. Her usual expression. The little tinge of Scottish when she spoke English was adorable.

They both made their rounds of hellos and hugs, settling into their circle. “What did we miss?”

“Katie was just about to tell us how mad tonight is going to be.” Jordan explained, looking at Katie expectantly.

Katie held up the bottle of whiskey. “That’s what this is for, girls! Just to take the edge off!”

“Katie-”

“Nah, chick.” Katie said to Jordan. “I think you’ll all be needin’ just a sip of this first. Nothin’ too crazy, we’re all in trainin’ after all.”

They each took a shot, some more reluctantly than others, and then Katie put the bottle into the fridge. A ‘housewarming gift’ she said.

She clapped her hands and rubbed them together as if she were going to give a speech. “Okay so… I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?!”

“Well, we all made some phone calls and I think it’s just gotten way out of hand. Last time I had count, we were up to about seventy-eight..”

“Seventy-eight?!”

“Yeah well, Lumos has really been puttin’ in the work in the background. They’ve gotten the girls all excited and there’s talk they’re convincing investors to bring in funding for more cameras at games, better equipment for us, better sponsorships. Whoever is runnin’ this really knows people. They’re pushing’ for games to move to larger stadiums, more merch to be sold and so much more.” She looked at YFN. “I don’t know how much you know, but everyone’s really excited.”

“I don’t know any of that..” She admitted, worried.

“Oh that’s fine, the girls know that's in the future. What we all care about now is having a publicity company that we can trust, so I dare say you’ll have ya work cut out for ya!”

YFN looked up at Lucy, eyes wide. “What if I don’t know their names? I haven’t memorised everyone yet..”

“No one expects you to have, and I’ll be right there to tell you.”

“That’s bad form if I don’t know.. I should know everything about them from their names to their nationalities, their clubs, their likes and dislikes and play styles..”

“That’s what tonight is for, remember? You have a plan.” Lucy soothed.

“What’s the plan?” Beth asked.

YFN took a breath. “I think the difference with the women’s game to the men’s game is that people really connect with the female players off the field. It’s so different to the men in that way. There’s more emotion, more honestly, more encouragement of players and people in general. People are more invested in the relationships, the friendships, and all of that. So many reporters attack questions from a male perspective, and I don’t want that. Tonight is all about me creating an understanding of players and what they want and what they need from us as a company, because we have that to offer. And not only that, everyone is different. Some people don’t mind talking openly about their relationships or their sexuality or their mental health. Other players don’t want to do that at all. So I did originally plan on talking to every person who came and get to know them individually and what they are and aren’t comfortable talking about.”

The girls looked impressed and she could feel Lucy’s grip tightening proudly beside her.

“That sounds amazing..” Caitlin grinned, excited.

YFN nodded at her shoulder bag. “I was quite literally going to take notes and everything. But seventy-eight people…”

“Last time I checked..” Katie reminded. YFN cringed.

“All of us here will have some ties to the people who are coming, so we’ll do the rounds and make sure everyone knows that you’ll get around to every one.” Jordan suggested at her side and squeezed her hand.

“And I’ll give a bit of a speech so the girls know. Besides that, most of the girls are just excited to get everyone together. We’ve never had anythin’ like this before.”

“If all goes well with Lumos, I was planning to make an event for all of the female footballers every year..” YFN admitted.

They all seemed excited by this. Finally, someone to invest money and interest into women’s football.

“Oh well, it’s going to be a long night.”

YFN was nervously squeezing Lucy’s hand as they walked into the restaurant. To be quite honest, it was more of an extremely large pub than a restaurant, but it was a brilliant English atmosphere. High ceilings, multiple bars, multiple areas. They entered the half of the pub they’d booked and YFN’s mouth dropped open. Even Lucy hesitated. They were early… slightly… but there were still over a hundred female footballers already there, with more arriving. Katie looked at their little group with a cheeky, guilty smile on her face.

“I’m going to talk to the group.” Katie said and wandered over, naturally taking charge.

“We’ll go find us some seats.” Beth offered and dragged Viv off.

Jordan’s eyes wandered the crowd in just as much shock as YFN, and she twitched as she wandered over Leah, though did well to pretend she hadn’t seen her staring at her.

“I think I’m going to go speak to the manager about the seating situation….” Lucy said as she assessed the room. She looked down at YFN. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

YFN nodded. It was overwhelming, but she had Jordan, and it’s not like they were all going to attack her at once or anything. Lucy leaned down and kissed her, YFN smiling into it knowing that the primary reason was because lots of the footballers were already staring over at them, and especially at her. The representative for Lumos. Lucy’s lips parted from hers and she kissed her bandage. She ducked down to Jordan on the way past. “You look great Jords, let her know what she’s missing.”

Jordan grinned at her; their history obvious in the grin they shared.

“Shall we?” Jordan asked, extending her arm.

YFN sighed and took it. “I don’t think I’m ready but fuck it. Let’s go.”

YFN was pretty certain that there was someone from every single WSL and Championship club present. After she and Caitlin did some looking around, they agreed that she wasn’t wrong. Katie had done as she’d said and given a speech about how YFN would get around to everybody one by one. None of them seemed impatient, most just excited at that and the fact that everyone was together. She noticed so many reunions, even Lucy catching up with people she hadn’t seen in while. That warmed her heart.

Before she started making the rounds, she spoke to a few of the girls she’d come with about who was who. She wanted to be sure of everyone’s names and clubs at the very least. To ease herself into it, she started with Caitlin so she could get a good rhythm going. Caitlin was the perfect first person, she was patient and funny and genuinely interested and helpful. From there, Caitlin came around with her to introduce all of the other Australian’s she could find, the proud Matilda’s, and YFN realised that all of the aussies had a similar sense of humour that she immediately fell into. She soon became comfortable chatting to players and found herself needing to look for Lucy less, not needing that support. Though, she always found herself looking for her anyways, her neediness always craving her. Most of the time Lucy was already looking at her, the expression on her face ranging from pride to flirting. From the Australian’s of Alanna Kennedy, Mary Fowler, Mackenzie Arnold, Steph Catley, Kyra, Clare Wheeler and more, she was introduced to the people in their respective WSL clubs like the girls at Man City: Chloe Kelly, Khiara Keating, Jill Roord, and so many more. She was overwhelmed but in the best possible way, and she quickly found the most efficient way to take notes as she was usually in a conversation with a few people at once.

She wanted to know what they were comfortable speaking about, and what they weren’t. What they wanted to see improved in the game and industry. What they expected from Lumos as a group. Any dreams, ambitions beyond the sport. What things they do and don’t like being asked, and even when they think they should and shouldn’t be interviewed etc.

YFN was honest with them all about her plans for Lumos. She repeated herself many times during the night, but was proud to say it each time. She wanted them to be comfortable, to not have to rely solely on their media training, to have a say in what gets cut from an interview, and what stays, and to be able to see the finished products before they were sent out into the world. She wanted to encourage sponsorships for individual players and much more.

The Irish girls were hilarious, their accents always carrying across the room. Katie introduced her to all of her players, both experienced and the younger ones who seemed a little surprised that YFN wanted to talk to them. They didn’t usually get much media attention until they were more known, but that was another thing YFN wanted to change, and she told them so.

Lucy managed to steal her away for a break during the chaos and they stood outside in almost silence, recharging their social batteries. It was a lot. But also, they just wanted an excuse to spend some time together.

As they came back inside, Lucy was by her side then, introducing her to all of the England players she hadn’t met yet, as well as others she knew. And Lucy knew a lot of people. She’d been around for a while. YFN loved meeting everyone Lucy introduced her to, and especially the people she’d grown up with like Lucy Staniforth who was currently at Aston Villa with Jordan. Those three were so natural and relaxed when they were all together, having known each other so well. Lucy Staniforth had mentioned that Lucy was such a weird kid and told some stories that Lucy groaned at. She was sure Lucy would have had stories also, but she was too polite to share any too bad.

Eventually came the point in the night where YFN needed to speak to Leah. She was the last of the England squad and seemably waiting patiently as she made her rounds.

“YFN, you’ve already met Leah.” Lucy introduced and pulled out a chair next to her for YFN. She sat down and Lucy kissed the top of her head. “I have a few people I need to talk to, love.”

YFN nodded and thanked her, turning to Leah. She hadn’t been alone, in fact she had spoken to a lot of people during the night as most of the Arsenal squad were in attendance, and most of the Lionesses. She’d noticed a few times as Leah had tried to get closer to Jordan in group conversations where Arsenal players had been excited to see her, but Jordan had managed to slip away before she got too close. It was impressive, actually.

“Leah, how have you been?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been great.” She gestured to the bandage and eye. “That’s looking much better.”

YFN gave a chuckle. “I’m just glad it didn’t fracture anything.”

“Have you heard anything from them?” Leah genuinely seemed interested. She liked Leah. She felt comfortable around her after their chats in the hospital.

“I haven’t heard anything from them since. Lucy thinks her lawyers scared them away.”

“Did she sue?”

She shook her head. “Not enough evidence.”

“Restraining order?”

She shook her head again. “Not until I’m on a work visa…. Oh that reminds me… sorry…” She took out her phone for the first time that night and sure enough, an email from Martin. Her Visa was approved. She grinned and screenshotted it, sending it to Lucy.

“It’s my Visa.. it’s just been approved,” she explained to Leah, unable to wipe the smile from her face. She found Lucy who pulled out her phone and looked at the image, her face lifting and that stunning grin lit up the room.

“Congratulations,” Leah said. “That amazing. Now it seems you have a lot of work to do..” She looked around the room, also impressed by how many people there were.

“I like to be busy. And to be honest, I don’t have too many questions for you yet, because we spoke so much at the hospital.” She admitted.

Leah was surprised and looked a little disappointed. “Oh.. right.”

“I still have a few though.. firstly I wanted to give the little spiel I’ve given everyone tonight… Our goal is to spread awareness and increase the popularity and coverage of women’s football. We’re going to tailor our questions and interviews to whenever the player decides, and whatever they feel comfortable discussing. When we do have interviews to post, we’ll make sure that everything is sent to the player and/or their manager individually so they can approve it and have their own say in what is cut and what is not. I want players to have control over their brand and image, because it won’t be positive for anyone if it's the other way around. We plan to cover the WSL and Champions Leagues, though as you can imagine, there will be some hiccups while we get into the flow of things.”

“That sounds… unbelievable to be honest. In the best possible way. Right now, we’re all forced to do little videos and interviews for social media at times that we don’t approve and most of the time we have no idea what we’re walking into so it’s just awkward and unnatural. That’s why everybody gets the same media trained answers from us.”

YFN nodded. She understood this. “Exactly, so we plan on changing that. For example…” She looked at Beth and Viv. “Those two lovebirds have said they’d want to do an interview in their home. They want to be around their dog and want to just be comfortable. I respect that.” She pointed over the the little Japanese woman next to Mackenzie Arnold. “And there? Riko Ueki. She wants to show around her hometown in Japan and the youth team she played at because she wants more funding for them. She’s also obsessed with manga and wants to show off her collection. She said that a West Ham fan brought her a comic once and it was her most exciting day as a footballer. Also, I suggested we do interviews in Japanese and English so viewers are not just limited to English speaking countries.” She turned back to Leah. “It’s a global sport, and we need to start showing it as such.”

Leah nodded slowly. “This is going to be brilliant.” She paused. “Let me… know if you need anything, okay? I know a few people and I can definitely get on board and help steer you in the right direction.”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

Leah smiled and then her eyes flickered over YFN’s shoulder. She knew exactly where she was looking.

“She won’t speak to me.”

Leah was being open and honest again. Something very unlike her, but apparently something she now shared with YFN. “I know.”

Leah’s eyes flickered back to her. “Did you tell her..?”

She nodded. “Tonight actually. It’s still pretty fresh.”

“Ah.” Leah seemed to understand now. “Well can you-”

“I’m not going to speak to her for you.” She said softly, as gentle as she could. “She needs time. She’s upset. Confused. Conflicted. She needs time to process.”

“Did I… did I lose her?” Leah was looking back over to Jordan.

YFN moved so she was in her line of sight. “I can’t speak for Dory. She’s her own person, but I know her well enough to know she will speak to you again in time. She knows you two were great friends once. Relationship or not, there’s still that love there.”

“I uh.. I was going to ask her to be my date to a charity event I have next weekend.” She said, looking at YFN as if she were asking if she should.

“I don’t think she’s going to be ready for that, Leah..” She said, again a softly as possible. She could see the pain in her eyes. The longing. The emotion. Again, Leah was not an emotional person. She was the Captain of the Lionesses. Strong and well-spoken.

“Do you have someone else to go with you?”

She scoffed. “No, I’m the only one available because of my knee. Aston Villa aren’t playing though so I hoped…”

YFN felt bad. She could tell Leah needed company. “Would you… like me to come?”

Leah’s eyes shot up from the ground, her eyebrows pulled together. “You’d want to come?”

“Sure, I’ve been to a few charity events before so I know what to expect. Plus I can probably do some networking..”

Thinking a bit more about it, it was perfect for her to do some Lumos networking.

Leah stayed silent and YFN bit her lip, thinking she’d been too forward. “Oh, sorry, I was just trying to offer a solution-”

“No… no.. I’m sorry. I’d love that, if you’re up for it. We’ll need to match outfits though.”

“That’s fine, I need an excuse to buy a dress, and my face should be a lot better by then.” She laughed, and then worry set in a little. Would Jordan be mad? Would Lucy be jealous? Why did she have to be so empathetic?

The rest of the night was a blur full of talking and stories and snacking on whatever was closest to her at the time as she made her rounds. Lucy made sure to find her often and make sure she had food and water. By the end of the night, she’d managed to get around to one hundred and sixty-two players, and her notes were incredibly extensive. There had been most of the WSL and Champions League in attendance. She was impressed with herself, and knew she’d be tired when she got home. Lots of group photos were posted to social media and YFN managed to post a few herself, taking one with the entire group so she could send it to Joe. Joe responding immediately, ecstatic at the turnout.

As they left, YFN made sure to thank Jordan, Katie and Caitlin, and especially Lucy for organising the night. It had been spectacular, though Katie did admit she was a little grumpy that they couldn't all drink and party as they were mid-way through their season.

“That’s my girl,” Lucy cooed. “You’re taking it so well, little one.”

YFN whimpered into the pillow, her hands gripping the sheets in desperation. Lucy’s strap was bigger and stretching her beyond what she’d ever experienced as she thrusted in and out of her with pace. She took it as well as she could, unable to control the sounds she made. She hoped Jordan couldn’t hear, though her best guess was that she’d passed out hours ago.

Lucy’s pace increased, the sound of wet slapping and Lucy’s breaths resonating around the room.

“God, you’re such a good girl. You like this?”

YFN nodded into the pillow, scared that if she spoke, she’d cry out. She did anyways, her moaning barely smothered by the pillows. She used her knees to brace and push herself backwards into Lucy, better hardening her thrusts and taking it deeper. Lucy’s hands moved from her nipples to her hips, pushing down and driving into her with obsession. Fucking railing her. She needed her. More. YFN accepted every single pound she took with a grateful moan, or a cry of Lucy’s name.

“L…Luce. Fuck. UGH, FUCK. Argh.. p…please… don’t stop. Fuck me.”

It was an addiction that only Lucy could fill. She needed her.

Her cries sent a shiver down Lucy’s spine and her words from earlier resonating with her. ‘I want that unconditional fucking hopeless romantic, Heath Ledger love. And when it comes to sex… my body craves someone that I can put my absolute trust in. Someone who I can give all of my control, my thoughts, my opinions to. Someone who will literally hold me down and fuck me for both of our benefits. I don’t want a choice.’

Her jaw shook in lust and she grabbed her head, pushing it further into the pillow. “Stop talking.”

YFN whimpered her horniness and she tried to do as she was told, but it was just too good. She was close, her fifth of the night. Pretty good for two people so tired.

“Please… don’t stop.” She whimpered into the pillow and Lucy pushed her head down harder, her hand tightening on her hip as she began to fucking rail her harder. “Shut. The fuck up.”

YFN shivered, her body so, so close. Lucy getting controlling was only getting her closer. God, she wanted her to keep talking. To say nasty things to her. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted that, and so she didn’t do as she was told. “Y…yes! ARGH!”

Lucy stopped, her breathing erratic and YFN let out an unhappy sob as she tried to push herself back and fuck herself on the strap. Lucy reached around to her neck and pulled her off the bed so her back was up and pressed against Lucy. She could feel the heat coming off her, the sweat, the lust. Lucy’s mouth found her ear.

“You really think you have a choice here, little one.” She started to reply but Lucy spoke over her. “That wasn’t a question. Now, I need you to be a good girl, and shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up and lay there and take this fucking drilling you deserve.” She bit the cartilage of her ear. “And do it quietly.”

YFN was enjoying this, wanting even more. “I t…thought you wanted me to be loud..”

“No, I challenged you to be quiet. And I changed my mind, anyways. I don’t want anyone to hear you. You’re MINE.”

Lucy pushed her back onto the bed and pulled the strap out, excited juices dripping with it.

YFN complained until Lucy was climbing onto her back, pulling something over her head. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it filled her mouth and Lucy tied it tight at the back of her head. Satisfied, she leaned down to her ear.

“You’re going to be thinking about this for the next 13 days, until I’m inside you again. You’re going to touch yourself, but it’s not going to be the same, because you need me. You crave me. You love me. So be a good girl and keep quiet while I fuck the disobedience out of you.”

Before she could even comprehend, Lucy was tugging her back into position and thrusting herself inside. YFN was caught unaware, her whole body jerking and clenching around the large cock. Lucy was relentless. Yes, she would be thinking about it for the next 13 days.

[annieqattheperipheral]

sid wizened old man on the mountain with decrees of his successor? sure not like I'm not already overly emotional about davo this week😭

yohe's dramatic ao3 style is always appreciated

*taps kudos

full article:

Sidney Crosby is famous for many things, one of which is his availability and patience with the sometimes-obnoxious media.

For years and years, I’d see Crosby patiently sit at his locker and absorb questions. One flavor of these questions was more predictable and consistent than the rest. Whenever the Penguins faced a player who had been drafted No. 1, just as Crosby had been in 2005, Crosby would be asked about comparisons to and opinions of the latest hotshot to enter the league.

Patrick Kane. Steven Stamkos. John Tavares. Taylor Hall. Ryan Nugent-Hopkins. Nail Yakupov (remember him?).

Crosby was unanimously the best player in the world at the time but would still be gracious and glowing about the draft picks. He wouldn’t bristle — that wouldn’t be his way. But there was a slight sense that Crosby didn’t really like the questions. He’s one of the least egotistical superstars in the history of the sport, but to be that great, you still need an ego. He knew he was better than those players, even though he respected them greatly. He knew he wore the crown.

In the fall of 2012, Crosby knew full well who his successor would be.

That year, the NHL was embroiled in one of its periodic work stoppages, this one a lockout.

Players were allowed at practice facilities, but team officials were not. Crosby took on the role of media relations director. A day in advance, he’d tell the media what time Penguins players — usually around a dozen — would be working out. One time, in a particularly endearing moment, players canceled the next day’s workout. So, Crosby called me and asked me to tell the rest of the media not to show up. It was a very strange time for hockey and especially for Crosby, who had just lost 100 games in his prime due to a concussion. Now, he was missing more time in his prime because of a lockout.

Also because of the lockout, Crosby had plenty of time for introspection along with his hockey player and media relations duties. He had time to pay close attention to the rest of the hockey world, too, a privilege he typically isn’t afforded in October.

Two hours north of Pittsburgh, a 15-year-old sensation had arrived in Erie, Pa. — Connor McDavid was taking the Ontario Hockey League by storm. I had decided to travel to Erie with Penguins broadcaster Paul Steigerwald on Saturday, the night of McDavid’s second home game, when the Erie Otters were taking on the London Knights.

On the game’s first shift, McDavid split defensemen Olli Määttä and Scott Harrington and then scored to finish off a highlight reel goal.

Dan Bylsma, then coaching the Penguins, was there. Following the game, he chewed out Määttä and Harrington, a couple of Penguins draft picks, for allowing that goal on the game’s first shift. After seeing the interaction, I joked to Bylsma, something along the lines of, “I don’t know, that McDavid kid is kinda good.”

Bylsma looked at me and said: “He’s 15. They shouldn’t be getting split like that.”

I relayed this story to Crosby, who asked if Bylsma really said that. Then he took my side.

“Doesn’t matter how old he is. He’s different,” Crosby said.

Oh?

Crosby always politely answers questions about players, but he doesn’t typically go out of his way like that.

Then it occurred to me that Erie Otters games aren’t televised in Pittsburgh. I had assumed that Crosby had never seen McDavid play.

“Got some time on my hands these days,” Crosby said with a smile. “I’ve seen him. I’ve seen highlights of him.”

The greatest player in the world is checking out YouTube highlights of a 15-year-old hockey player?

“Yep,” Crosby said.

Then he said something I’ll never forget. Sensing that he saw something in McDavid that was different, I asked him if McDavid reminded him of anyone. In a non-arrogant way, Crosby quietly said, “He reminds me of me.”

Make no mistake, he admired all of the players who were compared to him. He once told me that, if he could shoot the puck like Alex Ovechkin, he wouldn’t pass as much as he does. I once saw him shake his head when he watched Patrick Kane stickhandle around an opponent on TV.

But he never anointed other players, even if he would marvel.

With McDavid, stylistically, Crosby saw himself. And he saw talent that was out of this world.

Crosby didn’t feel threatened. He understood that someone else always comes along.

I imagine Wayne Gretzky felt the same when he traveled to Laval, Quebec, to see Mario Lemieux play a junior game in 1984. Lemieux, knowing Gretzky was in the building, scored four goals in the first period. At that very moment, months before even winning the Stanley Cup for the first time, Gretzky knew the identity of his successor.

During the 2012 lockout, McDavid couldn’t have known that Crosby was watching him from afar, but he was. There is an understanding, I think, between the all-time greats. They recognize traits that only they can recognize because only they can understand the genius required to be historically good.

We are seeing McDavid take the Stanley Cup playoffs by storm, becoming the first player in history to post consecutive four-point games in the Stanley Cup Final. It’s remarkable. It’s great for the game. A superstar is the center of attention in his very prime, which the NHL badly needs.

So much of Crosby’s prime was robbed by the concussion and the lockout. But his hockey sense and vision were spot on, even when he wasn’t on the ice that autumn.

He always knew McDavid was the successor, that he played the same way, that perhaps his physical gifts even exceeded his own.

He was right. McDavid is in a class with Gretzky, Lemieux, Crosby and Bobby Orr. And now, we wait to see if McDavid can pull off this seismic comeback and win a championship.

Crosby surely will be watching. He always has been.

[sakumasmut]

Enstars x Reader NSFW Month Day 10

Himeru x Bunny!Fem!Reader

late again, but I promise it’s worth it. Lily when you see this, hope you enjoy (and maybe be inspired to write a continuation wink nudge)

tags/warnings: breeding, vaginal sex, mating cycles

ao3

The coming of spring meant several things. Sunny days, floral breezes, gardens and parks full of color, and an uptick in sneezing from the unfortunate souls with pollen allergies (poor Koga was wearing a mask every time you saw him). For those with more primal instincts, the warmer weather meant it was the start of mating season. For the bunnies in Ensemble Square, it was time to either avoid contact with everyone and quarantine themselves, or get busy until all their cravings were satisfied.

You assumed heats were a necessary evolutionary trait thousands of years ago, but in the present day when your main source of stress was working an office job in a capitalist economy, your part-rabbit body throwing a hissy fit over not having a mate just made things even more stressful. The current situation you were in was a prime example of what problems the mating season could bring to the table, kneeling in front of a newer producer and comfortingly stroking their arm as they quivered in their seat.

“Stay here until the taxi arrives.” You spoke calmly to them. They were shaking and flushed red, not having expected to go into heat in the middle of work. “Once you get home, stay there until all the symptoms go away. Don’t worry about work; I’ll take care of it, m’kay?”

“Thank you, senpai.” They quietly sobbed, squeezing and rubbing their long ears to soothe themselves.

They were extremely lucky you happened to notice them hunched over in the hall and escorted them to a safe room before their vulnerable position attracted the wrong type of person. Mating season clouded people’s senses, you knew that too well. Married hybrids usually mated during March, to get it out of the way, but for single people, it was mostly just a waiting game until your body decided it craved a mate. You hadn’t gotten your heat yet, but you felt prepared to lock yourself in a room and call a taxi the moment you felt any sort of onset, to avoid ending up in the exact situation you were helping your coworker out of. For now though, you felt as fresh and (relatively) not horny as ever, and so said goodbye to the younger producer once their lift had arrived, escorting them to the car before rushing off to the meeting you were already late for.

“Sorry I’m late!” You quickly spoke as soon as you pushed the door open, the only person in the room looking up from the sound of your voice.

“Don’t worry, Himeru got your message.” The idol replied cooly, demeanor as nonchalant as ever. “The emergency situation you were dealing with, is it alright now?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all good.”

You were glad Himeru was an understanding person. It was a quality you liked about him, among other things. Maybe you were biased since you had worked with him for a few months on his solo jobs, but he always treated you kindly. You did notice he was harsher with his rowdy unit mates, but it only made you giggle more than anything, seeing him as the sort of person who gave as much respect as he received.

“If it’s not rude for Himeru to ask, what was it you were preoccupied with?”

“Ah, just some rabbit related stuff. You know how spring is for us.”

He frowned and knit his brows together as he looked you up and down.

“Producer, you aren’t feeling…ill, are you?” Himeru asked, “Himeru wouldn’t want you to be in a public place if you’re experiencing such symptoms.”

You flushed, realizing his misunderstanding. “No, ah, it’s not me! I was helping a younger rabbit who went into heat!” Being all red in the face and running into the room covered in sweat didn’t help with your case, as you could tell from his unchanging expression.

“Trust me, I would not be anywhere near here if my heat started! It usually starts pretty late in the spring, so I’m safe for a while.”

He nodded, expression relaxing at your assurances.

“It would certainly pose a large problem if it did. Though, if you ever find yourself in an unpleasant situation like that, Himeru would be glad to assist you in any way possible.”

“Huh?” You blinked at his words. What did he mean by that? Surely he meant that you could rely on him during emergencies, right?

“Now, shall we talk about your latest proposal?”

“Ah, yes!” You smacked yourself on the cheeks to rid yourself of those thoughts. “Here, I have the paperwork. Look over it and tell me what you think!”

xxx

You certainly weren’t lying when you said your heats came rather late into the season. People always complained about getting them early in March, but at least when they got them, afterwards they could go about their lives freely with no worries about getting sucker punched by their bodies. For you, spending a good two months worrying about the possibility that it’d come earlier was always a source of stress you had to push in the back of your mind, until finally it did come on a sunny May morning.

You woke up in a sweat, despite having taken a shower the previous night, and everything felt warm, way too warm. Funnily enough, you were meant to meet up with Himeru that afternoon, just as you did last month when you dealt with your coworker going into their own heat. You remembered what he had said about helping you if you ever found yourself in this situation, and thinking about the idol’s words made your horny mess of a brain wander to very obscene thoughts, which you had to smack yourself on the head to rid yourself of. No! You weren’t thinking clearly! You did struggle to understand what he meant, until you considered he likely referred to helping you with calling out of work and telling your clients you’d be unavailable. Having someone do all that for you rather than struggle with forming coherent sentences through a slog of calls sounded great right about now, and so you dialed him up once you managed to grab your phone. He picked up immediately after the first beep.

“Good morning, producer. Do you need Himeru for something?”

Just the sound of his alluring voice was making your body heat up. Stupid horny brain.

“Yeah, sorry this is sudden, but I need help with my heat.” You muttered, before realizing how it sounded without context and backtracking, “I meant—I need help with work, because I’m in heat! I need to tell my clients that I’ll have to reschedule, and you said that you could help, right?”

There was silence on the other end, and for a second you worried that maybe you had offended him somehow, before he responded with an “Understood, Himeru will inform everyone he needs to.”

You thanked him gratefully, and recited a list of people for him to message or call about your situation. That was a big weight off your shoulders, and now you could sink into bed and deal with your heat…all alone…

“Producer, can Himeru help in any other way? This time of year must be quite exhausting for your kind.”

Indecent thoughts of him came flooding back, of scenarios where Himeru could help you in ways your body needed the most…

“Perhaps you’d like him to bring you food and other supplies?”

“T-That’d be great, thanks.”

You hung up after giving him your address, and flopped yourself back onto the sheets, skin feeling sweaty and mind replaying how his voice sounded against your ear, wanting to hear it again after only a few seconds. The professional in you was already regretting saying yes to his offer, asking what kind of producer would invite an idol to their house in the middle of their heat, but the other part of you who saw him as a friend, perhaps a bit more, did really want the company. It would still be a while before he got here though, especially since he promised to do some of your work for you, and you wondered if your impatient body could even last until then.

A wave of desire washed over you, making you shudder. You tugged one of your long ears over your face, rubbing circles soothingly on the pink insides as your legs kicked your blanket off the bed. Your body was way too hot, yet no amount of ice would cool it off, only another person’s own heat enveloping your own would make it go away. You began to grind your hips against your pillow, whining into it, trying to pretend it was another person’s body—specifically a certain blue-haired idol. If you shut your eyes, maybe you could pretend he was already here in your house, comforting you with his presence.

You wondered how it would feel grinding against his thigh, imagining his yellow eyes watching you with immense interest. Yes, you could envision it so well in the blank space of your hormone filled brain. His hands would rest on your hips, holding you in place so you couldn’t climb off as you bucked against his leg. He’d see the wet mess pooling from your crotch area, dripping onto his pants, but rather than chastise he’d praise you, encouraging you to keep humping his leg until you came all over him.

You whined to yourself, the friction between your thighs and the pillow only making you feel a dull ache. You kept trying to chase an orgasm, anything to make your tensed up body feel better, but with only air for your cunt to clench around, you couldn’t bring yourself to. The buzz of the doorbell snapped you out of your daydream. How many minutes had passed? Were you so immersed in the scenario in your head that time had flown without you realizing, or was Himeru just that fast in getting to you? Your legs were shaky as you stood up, each step making your body wobble forward. You doubted you’d be able to leave the bed if you fell back onto it. You opened the door, and as expected Himeru was there, holding a plastic grocery bag.

“Good morning, producer.” His eyes scanned your form, and you did your best to stand upright without shaking. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I-I’m fine. Come on in.”

You tried to look composed as he entered, trying to keep your ears upright and hoping that he couldn’t sense the pheromones your body was releasing. If he could, he didn’t give any indication, expression as blank as ever while he placed the bag on your kitchen counter.

“Himeru admits, he doesn’t know much about your situation. But he tried to get things that could help.”

He took out some snacks and drinks, ones that you immediately recognized as your go-tos in the break area of the ES building. You smiled softly, touched that he would remember your preferred foods.

“Thank you. This means a lot.”

“It’s not a problem. Is there anything else Himeru can do for you while he’s here?”

He kept asking that same question, if he could do anything for you, and the short answer was that he could. But you were too scared to make the first move, in case he actually wasn’t interested in going further than your relationship as an idol and producer. Surely he’d cut ties with you if he didn’t mean it that way, and not seeing him again would hurt more than the rejection. Your body heated up again, as if begging you to voice your desires. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from audibly whimpering, something Himeru noticed.

“You look quite feverish, perhaps you should go back to your bed to rest?”

“Y-Yeah, maybe I should. Let me just put these away first…”

You took a step towards the counter to take some of the food away, but immediately stumbled. You braced yourself for the impact, but Himeru’s hands moved quickly to catch you. One hand grabbed your shoulder while the other circled around your stomach, pulling you up against his chest. A moan couldn’t help but come out of you at the warmth of his touch, cutting through the sexual tension like a knife. You froze up when you realized what you did, the silence following making you almost certain he heard it.

“S-Sorry, I’m just so…” You stammered, trying to come up with excuses. “out of it.”

His hands were still on you, the mere contact making you want to collapse into his chest. You really didn’t want him to let go, you wanted to imagine his arms wrapped around you forever, so you wondered when you were going to be hit with reality and have his arms release their hold, expecting him to excuse himself and leave you to deal with your heat alone again. Except, they didn’t. They stayed on your body, and you swore he even pulled you closer.

“Meru?”

“…Forgive Himeru for being unprofessional, but I can’t bear to leave you in this state.”

You looked up at him in surprise, only now noticing how hungry his gaze was as his eye bore directly into you. He moved the arm that was around your waist underneath your legs to scoop you up into a bridal carry. All the snacks went ignored as he brought you into your bedroom, having decided to have a taste of something else. You squealed as he dropped you onto the mattress. You would be embarrassed by how messy your bed was if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest from the sight of Himeru leaning over you, face so close to yours you could hear his breathing. You truly felt like prey, his prey.

“If you want me to leave, tell me so now.”

His voice was husky, looking at you with a deadly serious expression that made shivers run down your spine. His presence was intoxicating, you couldn’t let him leave now. You needed him here, with you, to satisfy you. You kept your lips shut as you stared straight at him, and your arms uncrossed themselves from above your chest to rest on either side of your body.

“Stay. Please.”

His expression softened at your resolution, and he reached a hand out to stroke your long ears gently, gliding his fingers upwards along the fur. You whimpered, thighs squeezing together. Himeru noticed, and gently placed a hand on one knee to pry your legs apart. A wet spot on your crotch area gave away your arousal, and he hummed.

“Poor girl. May I take these off?”

You nodded, and he carefully pulled your pajama bottoms off, exposing your soaked pussy. He pressed a finger against one of your swollen lips, already glistening with your juices. You trembled as he brought it to his mouth, making eye contact with you as he licked it clean.

“So wet already…your body must not want to waste any time.”

He didn’t either, as his gaze momentarily left your body to focus on the buttons of his pants. Seeing the tent that had formed in the short time it took to bring you here filled you with a sense of satisfaction, eased that he was enjoying this as much as you were. Once you saw his erection pop out from his boxers, your body seemed to clench even tighter in anticipation, unable to resist the idea of having it stuffed inside you. Your instincts told you to get onto all fours, knees spread wide to present yourself to your mate, and Himeru cooed at your eagerness.

“Good girl. Such a good bunny for me.”

His words went straight to your cunt, feeling it throb even before his dick was anywhere near it. Being reduced to the bunny in heat you were, his bunny, just felt right. You weren’t a producer right now, you were a helpless rabbit that was begging to be bred. He parted your folds with two fingers, coating them with your slick and rubbing it on his length, lubing it up as you squirmed impatiently, your tail’s movements giving away your excitement.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I-I…”

Even now, when you were so close to what your body craved, your lips refused to move. He leaned in close to your ear, close enough that you felt them brush against it when he spoke.

“Do you want me to mount you?”

Fuck.

You whined, babbling affirmative noises as he chuckled at how his words left you quivering in anticipation, lifting your rear high into the air to ask him to take you already. The warm feeling of something pressing against your entrance followed. He pushed himself in slowly, much too easily with how wet you were. Every nerve in your body was focused on the feeling of his length sinking completely into your wet cunt, all the way to the hilt, before slipping back out. Even in your wildest wet dreams you never thought he would be making you feel so full, so complete.

The noises you made were all quiet, either cut short by them catching in your throat or muffled by the pillow you were burying your face into. If he were going any faster, surely the squelch between your union would make a wonderful sound, but at his current pace the only sound in the room was his breathing and your muffled whining.

Himeru’s hands kept your hips steady as he pushed in and out of you, each thrust making the butterflies in your stomach flutter. Being filled by him just felt so right. This was what you were craving, cock stuffed inside you, body weight pressed down to make sure you couldn’t escape. Yet despite how your body trembled, how your legs were spread so wide for him, Himeru was still taking it slow, trying to make sure he wasn’t pushing you too much. It was still relieving your desire, but the slow jolts of pleasure weren’t enough, you needed something more primal to satiate yourself.

“What’s wrong?” He hummed, rocking his hips back and forth, “Is Himeru’s little bunny still needy?”

“Hah~ Meru…” You whined. “Faster, please, I want to feel you deep inside me~”

Who was he to deny you when you sounded so desperate underneath him? He pulled his cock out almost entirely before sinking balls deep inside you, making sure to do it harshly enough that your toes curled when he did. A louder whine escaped you, and it found itself joined by more as he slammed himself into you over and over again. Your short tail brushed against the skin of his stomach, flicking back and forth with each thrust. He reached out to take it in his hand, and you mewled when he lifted it up.

“So you’re sensitive here.” He hummed, gently stroking the white under-fur with his thumb.

“A-Ah, w-wait, mmh~”

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, knees wanting to give in from his touch, but he made you keep your hips upright, your back falling to a downwards slant as your arms gave in. You cried out when the first orgasm of your heat finally came, and through it all he just kept fucking you into the mattress, his own grunts of effort filling the air as he focused on the feeling of your warm walls trying to milk his cock.

“Bunny, you’re so tight.” He grunted. “You’re going to make me finish, too.”

“Inside, do it inside!” You whined, pushing your hips back towards him. Being in heat meant you were the most fertile you could’ve ever been; if he came inside you, surely it’d end with carrying his litter. But instead of being terrified of the idea, in the haze of your heat you wanted nothing more than for him to fill you up with his kids, as many as he wanted. He seemed to hesitate, noticeably slowing down.

“I-Himeru shouldn’t do that.”

“Hah, Meru, please!” There were nearly tears in your eyes as you turned to look back at him, pleading. “Breed me, knock me up, just give me everything!”

Your voice was so desperate, your body so eager to take his seed, to become his breeding bunny…he couldn’t help himself, his movements becoming more erratic as he growled out your name. He didn’t seem like he was going to pull out anymore, that was sure.

You mewled as his cock continuously pressed against the entrance to your womb, as if trying to coax it to open a bit further for the oncoming delivery. You chanted his name, the only noise reaching your ears your pitiful “Meru”s until he finally let out a loud groan, eyes shutting tight as he came inside you. The warmth flooding into you made your body and brain equally fuzzy, leaving you unable to think as you both came down from your highs.

“Did that satisfy you, bunny?” Himeru murmured against your ear, lips brushing over them and almost kissing them. He was still inside you, and you were sure he could feel how you clenched tightly around his cock at his words, wanting to feel it grow hard again.

“My my, seems like it didn’t.” He tisked, lifting your hips up high and forcing your shaky knees to support the weight of his hips pressed flush against your ass with a half-hearted whine. “You’re making me work overtime, producer. So all I ask is that you reward Himeru appropriately.”

If the reward he wanted was to make you swell with kids, well, it was practically already fulfilled. After all, he wasn’t going to leave his bunny alone after only one load, was he?

[genshinluvr]

At Arm's Length

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After being forced into a marriage with the twenty-five men— technically, you agreed to it, so you weren't really forced into it, you couldn't help but yearn for a genuine connection with the men. You end up expressing your feelings about your marriage with your twenty-five husbands to Lumine, who is also your sister in law.

Note: Short-ish fic for this week since it's been a hectic week for me ;v; Not really sure how I feel about this fic since I do feel burned out from not only school but from writing fanfics as well 😵‍💫 It's a new quarter for me, and I'm just trying to keep up with school, my readings, and writings. I don't think this would count as angst, but just to be safe, I won't be tagging people that don't want to be tagged in angst or hurt/comfort. Next week's fic might be either Tagic Outcomes or Caught in the Crossfire since it's been a while since I've typed something for those two fics. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Would marriage count as a warning?

Word Count: 7k

This strange relationship you have with twenty-five men— it’s fake. There are no feelings attached, no physical touch or intimacy. No strings attached, as your world would call it. Usually, relationships that have no strings attached to them would be friends with benefits. You hate the friends-with-benefits title. It sounds depressing to you because it’s a “friendship” between two people where they do everything a typical relationship would have, only there are no romantic feelings involved. 

You have been in that situation before, but it ended fast because you wanted to be more than that, and the person left because you broke the number one rule. Not to catch any feelings, and that is what you did. Oh, what a fool you are. How could you, a hopeless romantic, be in that kind of situation? You didn’t expect to be in an arranged marriage situation with twenty-five men from an open-world game you’ve been obsessed with for quite some time.

A stack of paper is slammed on the table in front of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up at the older woman, who looks like she does not want to show up to work today.

“Please sign your first and last name here, and your… husbands will sign their names after,” the lady instructs, sliding a large stack of paper toward you.

You look at the stack of papers with wide eyes. These are marriage certificates, and you have to sign twenty-five pieces of paper. You turn to look at the twenty-five men standing two feet behind you. Pierro nods as if he’s signaling for you to go ahead and sign the papers. The majority of the men look uninterested, almost bored. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn to look at the papers laid out in front of you. Marriage certificate, huh? You will be legally binded to the twenty-five men for who knows how long— perhaps until they all get bored of you and leave you one day without any notice. Just the thought of being abandoned so suddenly makes your heart clench. How did you end up in a situation like this? 

The woman sitting at the front desk clears her throat, raising her eyebrows at you. “Are you going to sign the papers or not?” She asks with an attitude.

Your face heats up with embarrassment while you mutter an apology before grabbing the pen lying beside the stack of papers. You begin to sign your name on the marriage certificates. A marriage certificate is a contract, and contracts can’t be broken unless necessary. Well, at least that’s what you assume. You don’t have much knowledge when it comes to contracts, but a certain former Archon may know a thing or two about contracts. 

After signing all twenty-five marriage certificates, you step to the side and let each man sign their name on the paper. Each paper is a marriage certificate between you and one man. While you’re technically married to twenty-five men at once, the marriage certificate and the government of the men’s respective regions (if they have one) state that you’re married to one man. Though, you have no idea how that’s going to work out since most of these men live in the same region as the other. 

“There. It’s been done,” Xiao says, grabbing your attention.

You watch each man hand their pens over to the lady behind the desk. She takes the pen and begins to put the marriage certificates in a white envelope with gold borders. You walk to the woman, who begins to hand you each envelope. 

You’re not sure how this works or how it’ll work. You weren’t prepared for marriage, nor did you plan on getting married so soon. The stack of envelopes in your arms starts becoming heavy the more the woman stacks one envelope over the other. While the envelope is thick and glossy, holding the stacks in your arms feels like lead. The woman puts one last envelope on the stack and nods.

“You’re all dismissed,” she says.

You and the men walk out of the building without saying a word to each other. I mean, what’s there to say after something like this? These men found you unconscious outside of Dragonspine. When you came to consciousness, you were met with various weapons pointing at your face. It took you a while to reassure them that you’re not a threat— how can you be a threat when you don’t have a vision or any weapons on your person?

Tensions are high, and silence hangs in the air. The tension is so thick you can suffocate in it. The sun is high in the sky, the birds are chirping, and the civilians are going on with their day, unaware of the situation.

You break the silence. “You guys are acting like I’m forcing all of you to marry me when I never brought up that idea. We can go back to the clerk and destroy the certificates if that makes you all happy,” you said.

“There’s no need to go back to the clerk to have the marriage certificates destroyed. What’s done is done, and you cannot break a contract once it's signed by the party involved,” Diluc says.

Archons, you hate this so much. You weren’t the one that brought the idea up to the men. It was them that suggested it for your “protection.” Ever since you revealed to them that you weren’t from their universe, they suggested that you should get married to them so that they can protect you from the Abyss and other potential harms that could come your way. 

Because you know too much about what happened in their world that they’re unaware of, it was best for them to be betrothed to you to protect you and your identity. At least that’s what you were told. Quite frankly, there could be a better alternative. Still, the twenty-five men were adamant about the marriage option, and you weren’t sure why. You didn’t want to start any more issues with them, so you went along with their choice, and now here you are— married to twenty-five men.

A few months go by, and it’s been a few months since you have been “married” to the twenty-five men, and while you’re their significant other, they keep you at arm's length. Everything feels awkward between you and the men. They weren’t cold or rude to you. They didn’t mistreat you or make you feel alienated from the rest. You’re unsure if it’s because of your lack of relationship experience or if it was something else because everything felt awkward.

Since you are legally their partner for however long, the twenty-six of you need to put on a show to prove that your marriage is legitimate and not illegitimate. No matter where you all are, you have to get used to calling each other partners. They’re your husbands, and you are their spouse.

You’re going to be really honest here. It feels like you’re putting more effort into this role than these men are. It almost feels like you’re the only person that is trying to make it work despite how awkward it is. After all, it feels like an arranged marriage because these men don’t have feelings toward you— at least, that’s what you’re assuming. Since you’re not a citizen in Teyvat, you spend your time at the abode, cleaning, cooking, and watering the plants in the backyard because there’s nothing for you to do, really. 

Instead of Thoma cooking food for everyone, you’re the one that does it. Of course, Thoma was opposed to it at first, but you insisted on cooking because they have jobs and duties to tend to, whereas you’re at the estate doing house duties. 

You wake up around close to six in the morning to start your day. While you hated waking up early in the morning, you thought getting up before everyone else would make the men feel relieved in a way. After all, you don’t work or go to school. You could apply to Sumeru Akademiya and be a student there, but it would raise some suspicions, according to Al Haitham and Kaveh. 

You’re not a fan of waking up at an early time, but ever since you and the twenty-five men have signed the marriage contract, you have been making it a habit to get up early in the morning to start your day ahead of everyone’s schedule. You’re standing in the kitchen in your pajamas, packing twenty-five lunches for each man. You made sure to cook their favorite dishes and include some snacks from the regions they’re from. It’s a lot to do, but you’re getting the hang of it.

“And we’re done!” You mutter to yourself, sighing in relief when you wrap the last lunch bag for the last man. 

You yawn and stretch your arms in the air. You lined the lunch bags next to each other, labeling each bag with the men’s names on it so they wouldn’t mix up their lunch bags with someone else’s bags. That would’ve been a disaster if it did happen. You rub your eyes and walk to the stove, cracking eggs into the pan and begin to cook yourself some breakfast. 

The kitchen door creaks open. You turn your head to see Thoma walking into the kitchen dressed for the day but with a bedhead. You crack a smile and look away before Thoma can see it. Thoma hums softly, walking over to where you’re standing.

“Morning, Thoma. I hope you slept well last night,” you said softly, cooking the eggs before you while Thoma dug through the refrigerator for water.

“I slept well. I hope you slept well, too, because it’s almost seven in the morning, and I don’t understand how you’re able to pack everyone's lunch before we all wake up,” Thoma murmurs, leaning against the counter beside you after grabbing a cup of water to drink.

You shrug. “It’s not as easy as I hoped it would be. That’s all I can say. Everyone has their likes and dislikes, and I have to make sure to prepare the ingredients the day prior,” you reply.

You look at the clock hanging on the wall and reach for the spatula. It’s almost time for everyone to get up for work, and Thoma is the only person that is awake. You’re not sure whether it’s because Thoma is used to getting up early ahead of every other man in the estate or if he’s used to waking up early because of his duties at the Kamisato Estate. But either way, you’re happy to have some kind of company, even if it’s short-lived.

“Thoma, it seems like you have yet to fix your bedhead,” the voice of the Kamisato heir breaks the short silence between you and the housekeeper of the Kamisato Estate. 

Thoma laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I tried to fix it, but there’s no use in getting it down when it’s stubborn,” Thoma sighs in defeat.

You continue to cook your breakfast while Thoma and Ayato hang out in the kitchen, chatting quietly near the island of the kitchen. You grab a plate and scoop the eggs, putting them on the plate while debating whether you should cook some bacon to go with your eggs for breakfast or not. The kitchen door opens once again, and more men walk into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes while muttering under their breaths.

You let out a silent gasp and smack yourself in the forehead, mentally cursing yourself for being forgetful. How could you make lunch for your husbands to take to work when you forget to brew them coffee and tea?! Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“Don’t hit yourself!” Scaramouche grumbles, smacking your hand away from your face with a small scowl on his face.

“Yeah! There’s nothing to beat yourself over. You made us lunch like you promised,” Gorou says, grabbing the small lunch sack from the kitchen island.

You sigh and rub your throbbing temples. “Of course, I would make you all lunch to bring to work with you all, but I forgot to brew coffee and tea for you guys,” you murmur. “Archons, how could I be so stupid and forget that?” 

“You’re not stupid for forgetting to brew tea and coffee for us, [Y/N]. You were occupied with cooking lunch for twenty-five of us. There’s nothing worth beating yourself over,” Dainsleif says, walking over to the coffee pot.

“I’ll do better next time, I promise. My forgetfulness has caused everyone to be late for work,” you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip. 

Childe throws his arms over your shoulders and pats your head. “Late for work? The clock just struck seven! If anything, we’re up pretty early, and we should leave the house not too long from now. Plus, some of us don’t thrive on coffee and tea,” Childe says.

“You do not need to worry about anything. You’re doing fine, and none of us are upset with you just because you forgot about coffee and tea. Plus, you cooked lunch for the twenty-five of us to bring to work. The least we can do is make our coffee and tea,” Al Haitham says, entering the kitchen with a peeved Kaveh following behind.

Kaveh stands beside you, crossing his arms over his chest with his chest puffing out. You look at Kaveh worriedly and lightly tap his arm. Kaveh continues to glare at Al Haitham before looking at you. You freeze for a moment when he looks at you with the same expression on his face. Kaveh notices your change in demeanor before relaxing.

Kaveh pats your head. “Sorry, [Y/N]! That glare wasn’t for you. It’s for that idiot over there with his stupid noise-canceling headphones,” Kaveh says, shooting a glare over at the Acting Grand Sage.

You weren’t sure if Al Haitham didn’t hear what Kaveh said because of his noise-canceling headphones or if he was intentionally ignoring Kaveh’s comment. You smile at Kaveh and pat his arm lightly before continuing what you were doing before the other men entered the kitchen. Once everyone is awake and ready for work, you pass everyone their lunch bags with their names on them. 

You stand by the door of the estate and bid them goodbyes as they walk out the door. Some men pat your head on their way out, and others either give you a hug or squeeze your shoulders. Despite being married to them for a few months, this is the only kind of affection you were getting from the twenty-five men.

Just when Baizhu is about to close the estate’s door, you quickly stop him by grabbing his wrist. Baizhu stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, surprised and confused. You release Baizhu’s wrist and give him a strained smile.

“Remember to take your medication, alright? I know you work at Bubu Pharmacy, and your job is to take care of others and give your patients their medication, but please take care of yourself as well,” you whisper.

Baizhu looks at you with surprise before giving you a warm smile. Baizhu chuckles softly and pats your head, almost ruffling your hair. You laugh quietly and grab Baizhu’s hand, gently squeezing them.

Baizhu nods. “Of course, I’ll take care of myself. I promise,” Baizhu says, making a crossing motion over his chest.

Baizhu leans over you and presses a kiss on your forehead before walking out the door, leaving you at the entrance of the estate, speechless. You touch your forehead, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. You press your lips into a thin line to prevent yourself from smiling widely. You close the estate’s door and lock it.

Before you and the men got married for your safety and to keep Teyvat at peace, they promised to each other and to themselves that they would keep you at arm's length. You’re sweet and down to earth, but because some of them have dangerous professions and you’re not from their world, they wanted to keep this distance between you and them. Your husbands do not hate you, and they’ve made it very clear on multiple occasions.

“If we seem cold toward you, we do not hate you. We don’t hold any disdain toward you, nor do we hold any grudges toward you.” Cyno would say as he is sitting across from you.

You nod and dig your nail into the wrinkly skin of your right ring finger— a bad habit of yours when you were a child that dragged on to your adulthood. You usually dig your nails into the wrinkly skin of your right ring finger when you’re stressed, nervous, or bored. It doesn’t hurt at all, nor could you feel it.

Tighnari clears his throat. “Do you have any other questions?” Tighnari asks, gazing at you curiously. 

You hum to yourself and tap your fingers on your thighs. “I want to know why some of you will be acting cold toward me,” you mutter, puckering your lips.

“To be fair, some of us do it unintentionally,” Albedo interjects.

You couldn’t help but agree with Albedo on that. Some men do come off as standoffish and cold even though they’re not. It’s how they are to people in general, not just you. For example, Xiao is standoffish, but that doesn’t mean he hates you or holds any grudges toward you. If anything, Xiao wanted to distance himself from you because of his karmic debt, and because you’re mortal and don’t have a vision, he doesn’t want to harm you in any way or put you in harm's way. 

“Just don’t do anything reckless that could put you in danger,” Pierro comments, leaning against the wall.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You don’t think you can guarantee that— staying away from danger, you mean. It’s not like you intentionally dive headfirst into danger without warning! You’re getting married to Archons, Harbingers, an Adeptus, a Knight, and many notable figures of Teyvat. There’s bound to be danger in almost every corner now that you’re associated with these men. 

The men stare at you intently while you stare off into space, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. That’s another habit of yours the men noticed almost right off the bat. When you’re deep in thought, you tend to zone out and are not aware of your surroundings. It’s almost like your head is always in the clouds. It’s almost endearing in a way, but your head being in the clouds could also be the reason for your downfall.

“What’s on your mind?” Heizou asks, leaning back in his seat while watching you closely.

You sigh and chuckle to yourself. “I don’t have much going on in my mind, to be really honest. But I do have other questions, but I don’t think any of you are going to give me a clear answer,” you said.

Kazuha sits beside you and gazes at you curiously. You clear your throat and look away, feeling heat slowly creep up your neck. He’s even prettier in person. You wonder if Kazuha knows how pretty he is because he’s breathtaking. Then again, the twenty-four other men are just as stunning as Kazuha. 

“If you want, you can ask us now, and if we know the answer, we’ll tell you. If not, we’ll try to answer it when we have the answers,” Kazuha suggests, giving you a small smile.

You pursed your lips and debated whether you should ask the question. If you were to ask them the question, you worry you might receive the answer you didn’t want to hear. But if you don’t ask the question, you’ll never know what will happen or what to expect. Itto lets out a loud grunt and stands up, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Itto props his hands on his hips and gives you an encouraging smile. “Whatever question you have for us, I think some of us have the answer for it, depending on what it is!” Itto says, tilting his head to the side while gazing at you curiously.

How long will this marriage last? Is what you wanted to ask the men. How long will it last? A few weeks? A few months? A few years, maybe? How long? The time in Teyvat is vastly different from your world, you’re assuming. The days in Teyvat are much faster than the days in your world. You and the men never went out on a date to get to know one another or to form a bond with one another. Would the marriage be convincing because of the lack of bond between the twenty-six of you? Or, well, between you and each man? 

“I don’t know if I want to ask the question,” you mutter shyly.

Venti giggles and trots over to you, throwing his arms around your shoulders and giving you a pat on the head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to ask the question! We won’t pry!” Venti says, releasing you from his hug before walking over to where he was standing previously. 

Zhongli clears his throat. “I would like to remind you all that what we’re all getting into involves a contract. Everyone has to agree to sign this contract mutually. If one person does not agree, then the contract will be invalid,” Zhongli says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Right, you nearly forgot that marriage is a contract with the party involved. It’s not a relationship where people can break up and go their separate ways after. Marriage is a contract, and to get out of marriage is breaking a contract. It’s a long process, and people can’t walk away from it so easily. 

You didn’t remember who proposed the idea of every one of them marrying you to keep you away from danger and to keep your real origins hidden from the rest of Teyvat. It’s strange to you that you have to marry notable figures to keep your identity hidden, even though that’s putting more spotlight and target on you. You don’t mind getting married to twenty-five handsome men but getting married to them so suddenly is something you didn’t expect.

“Are you listening?” Capitano asks gruffly.

You nod mindlessly. “I’m not opposed to continuing this process. I mean, it’s not like I have a choice, really,” you mutter.

“It’s for your safety. If word gets out that you’re not from our universe and you possess the knowledge of Teyvat, you will be hunted down by the Abyss,” Dottore interjects from the corner of the room.

You didn’t realize he was in the same room until now. Now that you think about it, these Harbingers are scattered around the large office inside Dawn Winery. You puckered your lips and leaned back in your seat, crossing your leg over the other. 

You sigh and tilt your head back. “Is the Abyss really a threat to me right now? In case you all have forgotten, you’re all notable figures. Some of you are Harbingers and Knights—”

Diluc makes a disgusted noise.

“Some of you are Adeptis and Archons—”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and pretends to gag. You stare at Diluc and Scaramouche blankly while the two avoid your eyes. You huff and stand up, propping your hands on your hips. You look at the other men in the room, who gazes at you cluelessly.

Kaeya smiles at you and waves. “Ignore Diluc. He was once a Knight as well, but now he holds a grudge against us,” Kaeya says nonchalantly.

Diluc rolls his eyes in response and glares at Kaeya from the corner of his eyes. You scratch your head, wondering how in the world this marriage is going to work out of some of these men hold grudges against certain groups of people, especially when the others are part of that group.

“So, what do you say? Do you agree to marry all twenty-five of us for your protection? This is also no strings attached, so you can do whatever you want without us controlling you. That applies to us as well.” Pantalone says, holding his hand out toward you.

You sigh for the trillionth time, staring at Pantalone’s hand. No strings attached? How would a marriage work if it’s no strings attached? There are many strings attached to marriages! That only applies if it’s a friends-with-benefits situation, but marriage? Does that even apply to marriages? This got you scratching your head because what?

“I’m not sure what you mean by no strings attached,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows. “But yes, I will marry you. All of you. Although I did not think this is how the marriage proposal is going to turn out….” you trailed off, grabbing Pantalone’s hand and shaking his hand.

Childe smirks, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Oh? Did you perhaps want us to dress fancy and make it special?” Childe asks.

“Yes.” you deadpan. “Honestly, if I was dating all of you and this is how you all propose to me, it would’ve been an automatic no,” you add.

“Huh!? Then what should we do to get you to say yes other than making it special?” Itto asks, giving you a look of disbelief.

You hum thoughtfully, tapping on your chin after releasing Pantalone’s hand. “Well, last time I checked, an engagement ring is involved. If we’re going to make this ‘real,’ there needs to be a ring, or else people won’t believe it,” you explain.

“Oh? Do you want us to get you an engagement ring?” Pierro asks, looking at you with an amused look on his face.

You feel your face heat up, and you look away with a “hmph!” The marriage is real, but at the same time, it’s not. Yes, a marriage certificate and license will be signed and given to the twenty-six of you, but this marriage is a loveless marriage. At least, that’s what you assume it’ll be. If you have to marry the twenty-five of them for your safety, you might as well make it convincing, right? Then again, you don’t want them to spend a lot of Mora over a ring.

“Yes, I do. I mean, unless people in Teyvat do it differently,” you mutter, stroking your chin. You shake your head and wave your hand. “You know what? Forget it. It’s not even a real marriage, so why should I want a ring to be involved?” You sigh.

Aether looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean? It is a real marriage,” Aether says.

“Not when the marriage is rushed, and none of you have feelings for me,” you mutter under your breath.

“Either way, the wedding is real because a contract is involved. If it were fake, the marriage license and certificate wouldn’t be signed, and it would’ve been more of a role play,” Tighnari interjects, shrugging his shoulders.

Well, Tighnari’s not wrong about that. Still, the marriage isn’t genuine between you and the twenty-five men. You shouldn’t be complaining when they’re doing it for your safety, but what Pantalone said really bothers you. A marriage that has no strings attached. How would that even work? You get attached easily! 

“[Y/N].”

How would the men react if you told them you wanted the marriage to be real? By that, you mean you wanted them to love you as much as you love them. Is it too early to tell them you love them despite knowing them for only a short amount of time during your stay in Teyvat? I mean, you technically knew them longer than they know you because—

“[Y/N]!”

You feel something smack you in the face. You blink and rub the tip of your nose, looking at the item that fell onto your lap. A bread roll. You clear your throat and grab the bread, glancing up at Lumine, who sighs and props her head up on the table with her arm.

You put the bread roll on the plate, giving Lumine an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Lumine. I didn’t mean to get lost in my thoughts,” you said. “What were you saying?”

Lumine lets out a long sigh and leans back in her seat, staring at you closely while tapping her fingers on her biceps. “I was wondering how your marriage is going with those twenty-five men. Specifically, my twin brother,” Lumine says.

“Oh!” You look at her surprised, reminding Lumine of a startled fox she came across many times while on her and her brother’s exploration around Teyvat. “It’s… uh… it’s going!” You say, giving her a strained smile.

Lumine deadpans. “Listen, [Y/N]... I invited you to lunch at a lovely restaurant in Mondstadt so we can chat and catch up!” She leans on the table and looks at you worriedly. “You stared off into space for a while, and you look very upset, maybe almost annoyed as well,” Lumine says.

You gulp and reach for your teacup, sipping your now cold tea. Have you been spacing out for that long? You didn’t even realize it until Lumine snapped you out of your thoughts. You’re not sure if you should tell Lumine what’s been bothering you. Surely she knows the state of your and the twenty-five men’s marriage, right? Plus, it’s not like Aether would be hiding the truth of his marriage with you.

Lumine chuckles, shaking her head. “You know, when Aether told me he was getting married, I was genuinely shocked. My brother? Getting married? That’s something I never thought would happen.”

“It’s a loveless marriage, though,” you whisper in defeat, slumping forward and resting your chin on the table. “My marriage with these men is loveless. There are no strings attached, which I find odd because there’s no marriage like that! I mean… unless it’s an arranged marriage that is strictly business,” you mutter, pressing your lips into a thin line.

Lumine gives you a sympathetic look, reaching for your hand across the table, and gently squeezes your hand. “Have you expressed your desire of wanting the marriage to be real instead of it being an excuse to protect you and keep you within close range?” Lumine asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

You shake your head glumly. 

Lumine looks at you with confusion and tilts her head to the side. “Why not? I mean, marriage involves a lot of communication, right? How would the marriage work out if none of you are communicating about your wants, worries, and desires?” Lumine asks.

“Lumine, these men barely show me affection as my husbands. They talk to me, yes, but it's always awkward between us when we speak,” you say, pulling your hand away from hers before reaching for the bread roll and breaking it apart.

“Sounds like you all need a marriage counselor,” Lumine says nonchalantly, leaning back in her seat with a sigh. “I’m no love expert, but trust me, communicating your wants, needs, desires, and worries will make marriage much easier!” Lumine says.

“The last time I did that, my ex laughed in my face and left me for my ex-best friend,” you deadpan.

Lumine blinks at you and laughs nervously, grabbing her cup of water and taking a sip of it. You lightly slam your head on the wooden table, causing the cutlery to clatter from the impact. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, staring off into space. 

Even if you were to express your wants, needs, desires, and worries to your husbands, you worry that it’ll drive them away from you. Not only that, but you worry that it’ll make them snap you back into reality— the reality that your marriage with them is loveless. The purpose of the marriage is to protect you and your identity from the people of Teyvat, from the Abyss Order.

While Aether and Lumine aren’t the Abyss Prince and Princess, the Abyss Order is still as active as ever. Heck, they might be out looking for you and either kill you for knowing too much information or, worst case scenario: make you the new ruler of the Abyss. You sit up and prop your head up with your elbow on the table, sighing wistfully.

“I didn’t think I would be thrown into marriage a few weeks after my arrival to Teyvat. Now here I am, a few months later, in a loveless marriage with twenty-five men who are unobtainable due to their status,” you ramble, rubbing your face with a frustrated sigh and tugging at the roots of your hair.

Lumine smacks your hand away from your head with a scolding look. You release your hair and let your hands fall on your lap, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. You don’t care that you’re married to the handsome twenty-five men. You care that it’s a loveless marriage that is “no strings attached.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, resting it on the top rail. “A hopeless romantic like myself shouldn’t be in a loveless marriage. I try to find hope in the littlest things, only to be disappointed in the end because I have a hard time accepting that none of these men will ever love me,” you let out a shaky sigh. “There are times when I question if I’m worthy of love because of how many people left me heartbroken. Look at me. I’m in a loveless marriage with twenty-five men who keep me at arm's length. They refuse to get close to me or show me affection. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it,” you murmur.

Lumine glances over your shoulders and then back at you, reaching for her fork. It’s supposed to be a day where you and Lumine hang out with each other. You did tell your husbands that you’ll be meeting up with Lumine, and they’re okay with it. Of course, why wouldn’t they? Lumine stares at you intently, biting on the inside of her lips. Your eyebrows are furrowed, Lumine can see the dark circles under your eyes, and the frown on your face has only gotten deeper. Dear Archons, how unhappy are you? You look like you’re barely hanging on. You look defeated and exhausted.

Lumine clears her throat. “I’m sure they show they care about you somehow, correct? You’re married, and while it’s not like any other marriages, I’m sure they show a tiny bit of affection,” Lumine murmurs.

You crack your eyes open and rest your chin on the table. “Even if they did, it’s not enough that is convincing. They have tried to reassure me they don’t intend on being cold toward me, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

Lumine raises her eyebrows at you and taps her fingers on the table. “Do you want the marriage to be convincing, or do you want it to be genuine? No offense, but I’m confused about what you want from my brother and your other husbands,” Lumine comments.

You let out a sharp exhale and bury your face in the table. “I want it to be real. The marriage certificate and license are real, yes, but I want….” You trail off, turning your head to the side so your cheek is resting on the wooden table.

“You want….?” Lumine furrows her eyebrows.

You sit up straight and scratch your cheek. “I want them to love and care about me as much as I do for them. Since this marriage is, according to Pantalone, no strings attached, it makes me feel like I’m not meant to be loved even if I do love someone or something. If that makes sense.” You run your fingers through your hair and puff your cheeks out. “That’s all I want. But knowing them, they will never feel the same way, and I need to accept it.”

You stare at Lumine, who looks like she just saw a ghost for the first time. You look at her quizzically while she slowly lifts her hand and points behind you. You freeze and close your eyes, mentally cursing to yourself. You slowly turn in your seat and open your eyes, only to see your beloved husbands standing there with their arms over their chests, looking at you with unreadable expressions on their faces.

“We need to talk,” Diluc says.

Your shoulders slump, and you nod. You get up from your seat and bid Lumine goodbye before walking outside of Mondstadt. Lumine gives Aether a look when he walks past her alongside the other men. The way back to the estate was silent, other than muttering from other men here and there. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and ashamed for admitting it out loud. Even if you said it to Lumine, you didn’t expect your husbands to walk up to your table while you were rambling.

Now, you’re sitting on the couch while the men are standing in front of you. You feel like a child getting ready to be scolded by their parents for misbehaving. You feel so small, almost inferior. 

“Can you explain to us what you and Lumine were talking about?” Xiao asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips. “Lumine and I were talking about our,” you gesture to yourself and the twenty-five men in front of you, “marriage, and I was expressing my feelings about the marriage.”

“Care to tell us more about it?” Kaeya asks, sitting across from you.

“Do I need to explain it to you all again? I have a feeling that all of you heard what I said to Lumine before I realized you all heard what I was saying,” you commented.

Gorou nods. “That is true, yes, but we want you to say it to us. We are your husbands, after all.”

Archons, this is embarrassing.

“I…” You sigh, staring off into space.

You can’t say what you said to Lumine earlier today. It’s not like you didn’t want to. It’s because you have a hard time expressing your emotions and saying what’s on your mind. 

You shake your head, burying your face into the palm of your hands. “Sorry, I’m having a hard time.” You whisper.

Aether gives you a sympathetic look. “It’s okay! Take your time!” Aether reassures you, sitting beside you and rubbing your arm.

“We want to let you know that we’re not mad at you for telling Lumine how you feel about the marriage,” Heizou says, sitting on the other side of you, sandwiching you between him and Aether.

You give Aether and Heizou a strained smile before looking down at your hands on your lap.

“I don’t know how you all feel about this marriage, but lately, I feel like you all have been avoiding me. The better way for me to put it is you’re all keeping me at arm’s length, and I feel like I can’t get through the walls you’re all putting up.”

“Like Pantalone said, the marriage is no string attached,” Dottore says passively.

You stand up. “That only works for friends-with-benefits situations. We’re married. Marriage isn’t supposed to be like this unless it’s a business transaction like those arranged marriages, but this isn’t arranged. It’s sudden, and I’m an idiot for thinking I’m strong enough to be in this situation.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?” Capitano asks.

“Am I really that hard to love to the point where you all keep me at arm’s length? If I am, we could just end the marriage and go our separate ways,” you suggest.

Al Haitham shakes his head. “That’s not why we keep you at arm’s length. You’re not hard to love. We do care about you, [Y/N].”

“Then why put a wall between us? I’m doing everything I can to have you all open up to me, but it's futile.” 

Kaveh kneels in front of you and grabs your hand. “We put you at arm’s length because we worry that if we end up developing feelings for you, you will return to your world suddenly. We do care about you, and it’s hard for us to act like we don’t love you. We do, and it’s not easy for either of us to keep this distance.”

“I see where you’re all coming from, but we don’t know when I’ll return to my world. I’ve been in Teyvat for, what, a few months now?” You look at the men quizzically.

“That’s the unfortunate thing. We don’t know how or when you’ll return to your world. It’s a constant guessing game, and falling in love with someone and them disappearing out of thin air without warning is terrifying.” Albedo interjects, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And so is marrying someone and keeping them at a far distance until they disappear! It’s almost a cruel and unusual punishment.” You retort.

“Would you be okay with us starting all over again?” Kazuha asks.

You press your lips into a thin line and squint at Kazuha. What does he mean by that exactly?

“We want to form a connection with you. While we treated you with respect (and will continue to do so), we want to treat you like our spouse instead of a stranger/roommate.” Scaramouche replies. 

You nod, feeling your face gradually become warm. You continue to keep your lips pressed into a thin line to prevent a big smile from forming on your face. They wanted a fresh start. A start where they treat you like a lover rather than a stranger. You’re okay with that! In fact, you like that idea more than whatever’s been happening for the past few months.

“I like that idea.” You say softly.

Cyno smiles and pats your head. “Good.”

A fresh start with your twenty-five husbands. That’s something you didn’t expect would happen, but you’re not complaining. It’s better than having them keep their distance from you.

Note: I'm thinking about giving Zhongli his own collection of one-shots, but I'm not 100% sure if I should do it. I have a lot of ideas for this man, and I want to make it happen, but I'll have to wait a bit and see how it goes before I make it happen. I might make it happen once my spring quarter is over, but who knows. I was distracted by the new Obey Me game, and I was also farming for Baizhu. That's why the update is a bit late-ish other than me tagging people in this post. To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @samarill, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @nightlysunn, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[piratefishmama]

Beware The Thorns | Part 9

Robin Buckley made it her job to know things about people in Steve Harrington’s life. That was something she’d always done. Ever since they’d been bound to chairs back to back in a basement, ever since Steve had goaded, pushed, and insulted their captors, spitting vitriol, forcing them to focus entirely on him leaving her with barely a scratch, a sore jaw from where one of them had slapped her across the face but that was it.

Steve had been hospitalised for over a week with his injuries.

And in that time, the senior Harringtons had laid waste to the entirety of the group that’d held them captive, and had forged an odd little friendship with Buckley&Buckley, a P.I husband and wife duo who were endlessly grateful for Steve’s sacrifice to ensure their daughters survival.

A friendship that continued for years after the senior Harringtons passed their empire onto their son in their passing.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there, she’d taken it upon herself to investigate something to prove that she could. To prove that she was ready to join her parents in their work. Wrong place, wrong time. But it gained her Steve, he was worth the nightmares.

Which was why she spent her Monday morning going to a coffee shop she didn’t actually enjoy on the east side of the city, drinking overpriced black ‘artisanal’ sludge, which usually she’d be an advocate for, fuck Starcucks an all that jazz, but this place?

Dumpster fire masquerading as a ‘hip new coffee joint’, ran by a douchebag in a beanie with a moustache that didn’t fit his somewhat misshapen potato sack face shape.

All to meet with one very pretty young lady, who seemed to actually enjoy the coffee the shop served.

“I need to know where he’s going to be.” A very pretty lady, who held her coffee cup to pursed, painted red lips, bright blue eyes on Robin’s face. “And I need to know if he’s already locked down a new client, I’m assuming these are things you’ll know… as his friend.”

“Mmnnn, I mean. You’re not wrong.” She took a sip then placed her cup back down on the cork coaster provided. “I do know where he’s going to be, and I do unfortunately know his hook up schedule, but what makes you think I’m going to tell you any of it? As his friend, it’s kind of my job to keep that information on lockdown, isn’t it?”

Robin liked Chrissy. She’d always liked Chrissy, same as Robin always liked Eddie, they had similar vibes. Wearing a mask of thorns to protect the pretty petals from those who’d do them harm. She didn’t know how they knew each other, didn’t know enough about Eddie to make assumptions as to where they’d met, but Chrissy was the closest thing Eddie had to a best friend, as far as Robin knew.

Chrissy was the only friend that Robin could get to without it immediately getting back to Eddie. Eddie’s little game friends, Gareth, Jeff, and Dougie? They’d tell him the second she reached out, would sound an alarm and she’d never get anywhere near him, claiming they were ‘being good friends’, but Chrissy was smarter by far. Chrissy was just enough of a best friend, to know when Eddie happened to need something that he didn’t want to admit to needing.

Just enough of a best friend to be able to tell him he was being an idiot, and not just immediately side with him.

Like Eddie’s very own Robin.

“It is, but I’m hoping that I’m right in the fact that he’s probably been miserable since he ended things with Steve, right?” It all kind of hinged on that. On Eddie’s real feelings behind his little mask. “Steve’s pretty miserable… it’s depressing”

“So miserable he’s sent you out to track Eddie down? Or are you doing this sniffer dog bit on your own initiative?” Robin opened her mouth to reply, but Chrissy continued as if she hadn’t asked a question, asking another instead, “what makes you think he’d be miserable?”

“Which question am I answering here?”

“Mmmmm second one please.” Chrissy took another sip, so nonchalant. She had an energy about her that Robin felt strangely familiar. A countenance Robin had only ever seen in one other person.

“I know he was acting, I know there are sides to Eddie that Steve never saw, that Eddie never let Steve see—”

“Like all the sides of Steve that Eddie never saw?” Robin tensed, brow furrowing “oh unclench, Robbie, the Cunninghams and the Harringtons go back generations, pretty sure Steve and I would have wound up in some stupid arranged marriage had the Harringtons not been against it.” Robin didn’t like not knowing things, why did she not know that? How had she missed Chrissy of all the potentials to have told Eddie about Steve’s life? How did she not know that Steve ought to know Chrissy? “I never said anything to Eddie and I don’t intend to, but… why should I let Eddie be dragged into such a messy life? There’s so many fish in the sea, Robin, why should I let my best friend be dragged down by a shark?” At least now Robin knew why Chrissy’s personality, her eerie calm felt so familiar.

She was Steve in prettier packaging.

“I’m at a disadvantage here, aren’t I?”

“Oh very much so, but you’re very cute so I’m letting you off.” Robin blinked once in surprise, then did her best to quell the pleasant buzz that thrummed through her veins at the not-so-subtle compliment “Please answer my question, why should I give you what you want?”

“He… Steve… He loves him, Chrissy… Steve has done bad stuff, don’t get me wrong, he’s done awful things to people, but I’ve never seen him like he is whenever Eddie’s around. It’s like he’s drowning in the dark and Eddie’s just… a light at the end of the tunnel, an if Eddie loves him too, which I think he does… why should they be apart?”

“And now the real reason, not the Hallmark movie one?” Chrissy raised a brow in boredom.

“I… I don’t know, Chrissy. I don’t know. I don’t. I’m running on best friend fuel. Steve needs him, or at least needs closure from him, and as his best friend I’m duty bound to try and get that for him. I’m sure you don’t love Eddie’s job. Right? He wouldn’t have to do any of it if he just—”

“Gave up his freedom and all the work he’s put in to establish himself in his field for a slim chance at happiness with one of the most dangerous men in the city?” Chrissy leaned back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she crossed her arms over her chest, coffee cup left to rest on the coaster.

“Better the devil you know though, right? Wouldn’t you rather him be with someone you know won’t hurt him… than with someone you don’t?” Chrissy’s eyes finally left Robin’s face, dipping down to the right as she thought about it.

Eddie wouldn’t be alone for long, he’d find a new client, he’d be on someone else’s arm, and he’d continue his life unchanged with a risk of being hurt.

Or… or he could have what he wanted.

Chrissy knew what Eddie wanted. They’d spent more than enough evenings on his couch with ice cream mooning over Steve Harrington and while she’d have loved to tell him that he was trash, he was a monster in sheep’s clothing… he just wasn’t. So she’d kept quiet.

She let Eddie pine away for a life he could have if he took a chance, never telling him why he shouldn’t.

“What if this new client wouldn’t hurt him?”

“Let’s be real Chrissy he’s probably already planned on reaching out to Tommy to fill in the gap in his schedule, you and I both know what kind of trash heap Tommy Hagan is.” An easy cash grab that’d probably make Eddie feel like shit. “Do you want to risk Eddie’s happiness on a what if, or do you want to tell me where he’s going to be so Steve can be there and sweep him off his feet?”

In retrospect, Robin should have probably been suspicious when Chrissy sat up straight, when she looked at Robin as if she was assessing her, and she definitely should have been suspicious when, with a short “Alright then,” Chrissy plucked a pen from her bag and a little notepad, and jotted down an address and a time. But with a small victory in her hands, and a front row seat to Chrissy’s perfectly perky… ponytail retreating for the door with their business concluded.

She really wasn’t thinking all that hard.

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 4: Starting Line-Up

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 10,185

Rating: M - language, some mentions of past sexual situations, pining (but is it mutual?)

Summary: In the days following Jack's first visit to your place, you're forced to think through just about every possible future scenario. And when he makes an offer you're not expecting, you start to believe that there might be just a little more to it than sex for him.

Author’s notes: 

I absolutely love this chapter. If you skip ahead to the end, there's a picture included to describe the type of view Reader has. I know not everyone is familiar with baseball stadiums and the opportunities they offer for seating, but I also don't want to ruin it too early.

This chapter ALSO features Jack wearing the uniform in this artwork - and is the entire reason this AU was started.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

The starting line-up is the official list of players who participate from the beginning of the game onward. This may change throughout the season, as players leave due to or return from an injury. Starters are usually the team's best players at their respective positions, and as a result, being a starter often comes with notoriety A spot in the starting line-up is hard-earned. 

You didn’t hear from Jack the following day, but you didn’t expect to. 

Not because you thought he’d used you, but because you knew how busy he’d be between driving to meet with the team in Louisville and then heading back to The Cavalry and playing in that night’s game. 

All day, though, you thought about him - and about the previous day… and night.

Your experience with Jack was different than those you’d read about online, or heard about at games. He’d treated you as an equal, giving you a legitimate explanation as to why he did and didn’t do or want certain things in bed. He hadn’t flaunted his status or reputation throughout the night, and his interaction with the girl at the ice cream parlor proved that Jack was focused on giving kids a good experience when they met him no matter where he was. It’s not just when he’s in uniform. 

You opted to work instead of taking the day off like you’d planned, and he was on your mind as you did so. The memory of his voice rasping in your ear and the feeling of his mouth on your bare skin sent shivers through you while you were poring over spreadsheets and drafting emails, and it made the day go much faster. By the time you were done for the night, you were almost vibrating, the truth of what had happened settling in. 

You’d slept with Jack Daniels. 

You’d met him for something he’d clarified wasn’t a date, and invited him back to your place without a second thought. He’d been nothing but kind to you, and you hadn’t felt that he thought less of you for being so forward. There was a small part of you that wondered if he thought you were easy. But he’s known for being a flirt. He’s been with a lot of people throughout his career, and … 

There was no way to know for sure what was going to happen until you heard from Jack again. You’d need to see how he acted the next time you spoke before you could assume anything - though with Jack, you figured it wasn’t safe to assume at all. 

You wanted to tell Erin what had happened. You wanted her to know everything, because in reality, it was thanks to Caleb that you were even in the position to meet Jack in the first place. But it felt wrong to talk about the not-date, and even more wrong to kiss and tell… so you held off.

And when you woke up on Tuesday morning to a text message from Jack, you were glad that you’d kept quiet. 

Check my Instagram. 

Before even sitting up, you did, groaning at the sight of his newest picture - a promotional shot for that weekend’s games, featuring a close up of his nickname on the back of a bright yellow jersey, the tip of his black bat’s barrel visible where it rested on his shoulder.

When do I get to see the whole thing? 

You double tapped the picture after replying, and didn’t expect a response. But Jack started typing back immediately, his message a completely unexpected one. 

Friday, if you come to the game. 

“Is that an invitation?” Blinking at your phone, you chewed on your lower lip. It seemed like it. It seemed like Jack was making good on his promise that you’d see each other again because he wanted to. But this time, it wasn’t to meet for ice cream. Instead, it was a personal invitation to his first game back with The Statesman. 

This weekend has been sold out for weeks, Jack. I’ll need to find a ticket, but I’ll see what I can do. 

You didn’t have a chance to open a search for tickets before your phone was ringing, Jack’s name on the screen. What the fuck? Why is he calling me? Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, you took a deep breath before answering. “Hello?” 

“‘Morning, sunshine.” He laughed and then scoffed. “That was real cheesy, right?”

“A little.” But you were laughing, too. “You’re up early.” 

“Have to stay on schedule during the season.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I’ve got some packing to do before I come back to Louisville.” So he’s cleared. “I’ll be back for Friday night for sure.” 

“That’s great, Jack.” You rubbed at your eye with one hand. “Bet you’re happy.”

“I am. I miss my bed.” You didn’t know how to answer him, but he spoke again before the silence stretched for too long. “And about a ticket … I can get you in on Friday.” What? “Actually…” He trailed off, and a few seconds later, Jack sighed. “Do you think your friend and her brother would want to come with you?”

“I can see. I’m not sure. It’s a Friday night, so she’s probably going to be with her boyfriend, but -”

“Invite him too.” Jack said your name. “Give me a couple hours, and I’ll let you know for sure, but four of you shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Sitting up straight, you held your phone tightly with one hand. “It’s -”

“I know.” You could tell that he was smiling, and when Jack spoke again, you heard the laughter in his voice. “I want to.” You didn’t argue, lifting your free hand and biting down on one knuckle. I want you to, too. “I know you’ve gotta work today, but can I call you back later? I need to make sure I’ve got tickets, and -”

“Of course. I’ve got a meeting at 11:30, but aside from that, I’ll be able to answer all day.” 

You hung up soon after that, Jack telling you to have a good morning and you repeating the same back to him. But you didn’t get out of bed right away, instead lowering your phone and staring at the ceiling in shock. What the fuck did I get myself into? 

— 

He called back a little after 1 PM, his cheerful voice loud in your ear. “Tickets are yours. All you’ll have to do is go to Will Call and give ‘em your name and they’ll be able to help you.” 

“Four of them?” He confirmed. “Thank you, Jack. I wasn’t… I didn’t think you’d…” 

“Well I did. And you’re welcome. I hardly ever ask for anything, and the ticket lady the players talk to loves me, so this was easy.” But the confirmation that you had tickets raised an issue for you - and it required you to explain it to Jack. 

“Erin’s going to ask how I got them.” Leaning back in your chair, you stared up at the ceiling. “And I don’t want to lie to her.” 

“So don’t.” His tone was matter of fact, Jack’s next words shocking you. “Tell her I got them for you.” But that will bring up what happened the other day. “Didn’t you tell her you were goin’ out with me last weekend?”

“No. I didn’t tell anyone.” He was silent in response, which surprised you a little. Why is that a shock to him? Did he really think I’d tell people? “That’s not my style, Jack.” 

“I appreciate that, darlin’.” It made you smile again, especially with the way his voice dropped as he spoke the word. “But you tell her whatever you need to. You don’t need to keep me a secret.” 

“I don’t think I need to tell her everything to offer her tickets to a game, but I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed at you, the sound turning into a groan - and you savored the sound of it, biting your lip before you continued. “I’ll let you know for sure after I talk to her, but I’ll definitely be there on Friday even if they’re not.” 

“Good. That’s real good.” Jack cleared his throat. “I’m gettin’ ready to go to the stadium now, so if I don’t answer, that’s why.” He doesn’t need to explain himself to me. I don’t… why is he doing this? “Talk to you soon?”

“Sure.” Your smile widened, and when the two of you hung up a few seconds later, you tossed your phone down onto your desk. Shit. 

Things were escalating quickly, thanks to Jack taking the initiative - and it stunned you. He hadn’t mentioned seeing you again, though, which gave you pause. But he’s going to be busy before Friday, and then he’s got games all weekend, so there might not be time. Maybe that’s why he didn’t suggest it.

A quick check of the schedule told you that the team was leaving for a short road trip on Sunday afternoon, which meant that he’d be on the go almost immediately. So it makes sense. I’ll just see him from the seats. 

It was somewhat disappointing, there was no way around it. But the fact that he’d invited you in the first place cheered you up enough that you reached for your phone again, opening your messages with Erin. 

Hey, got something to ask you. Call me when you’re done with work? 

— 

Her phone call came just after 5 that day, Erin’s greeting friendly but curious before she jumped right in. “You usually don’t ask to ask me things. Why today?” 

“What are you doing Friday?” Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the heat of the sun on your face. “Friday night, I mean. After work?” 

“Troy and I were going to go to dinner, but that’s about it.” Perfect. “Why? What are you doing on Friday?” 

“Do you want to go to the Statesman game?” You paused, opening your eyes and looking out at your yard. “You and Troy and Caleb?” She was quiet for a few seconds and you were too, waiting. “I’ve got four tickets, and -”

“Isn’t it Players Weekend? I thought it was sold out. Caleb’s been talking about it for like a month.” 

“It is. And yeah, it’s sold out. But I was offered tickets. Free tickets.” 

“From where?” There it is. “Did they reach out because they saw your post about Caleb and Jack?” You thought of Jack’s words - of him telling you to tell Erin, of his assurances that it was alright for you to talk about knowing him. I’m still not going to tell her everything, but … 

“No. It wasn’t the team, Erin. It was Jack.” You heard her intake of breath, but before she could say anything, you continued. “He messaged me after he saw it the other day, and we ended up going out on Sunday night for -”

“You what?!” She screeched the words in your ear and then laughed. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“We went and got ice cream. He was up here to work out with the team and to take pictures for next weekend, and had no plans, so…” 

“So you went out with him. Fuck me, that’s wild. I told you making that post was worth it. So you went out on a date and then he offered you tickets for another game? Why four? Why not just -”

“I’m not sure.” Standing, you stepped out onto the grass, the blades of it cool against your feet. “But he called me this morning and suggested it. He specifically mentioned you and Caleb, but I have no idea where the tickets are, so I can’t promise anything.” 

“He called you? He must like you.” She laughed, the sound turning into a hum. “What else happened Sunday aside from the ice cream?” She was teasing you - and there was no concrete reason for you to answer her, but you did anyway. 

“He came back here for a little while.” Curling your toes, you let out a long sigh. “He didn’t stay the night, though. So -”

“Good for you.” She said your name, waiting until you were quiet to say anything else. “And now he’s offering you tickets. You definitely made an impression.” Your mind wandered back to the time you’d spent with him - to the way his mouth felt as it met yours and the way his hands skated over your skin as they explored your body. He definitely left an impression on me. “I don’t think we should tell Caleb where the tickets are coming from, because he’ll never let you hear the end of it.” She hummed, the woman clearly thinking on her end of the line. “But we’ll go on Friday. It sounds fun.”

“We can take one car. I’ll pick you up.” Walking back to your patio, you paused at the edge of it. “And … Erin? Maybe don’t tell Troy either. Jack said that I could tell you that they’re from him, but I don’t … I don’t know what’s going on, so -”

“My lips are sealed.” She laughed again. “I do have one question, though.” I can already tell this is going to be a doozy. “What’s he like? He handsy? Does he talk a lot? How does he kiss?”

“He’s … thorough.” Your cheeks heated as you spoke, your fingers curling around your phone. Very thorough. “And I would very much like to kiss him again.” A lot. Erin snorted at your reply, muttering the words I knew it under her breath. “He’s nice, Erin. Confident and a little cocky, but not insufferable about it. A little girl interrupted us while we were eating, and he didn’t get mad. He took a couple minutes to talk to her about baseball, and it was just …a relief, I guess? I don’t know. I’m glad he’s not an asshole.” 

“I am too. That would be really disappointing.” It would. “But I’m going to drive home now. Work kicked my ass today, and I need to eat.” She let you know that she’d get ahold of you after she talked to Troy and Caleb, and then you hung up, deciding to go back inside so that you could start dinner, too. 

While you cooked, you sent a message to Jack, giving him an update. You kept it simple, giving yourself no time to overthink your words. 

Erin’s in. Looks like it’ll be all four of us Friday. 

You figured he wouldn’t reply, but your phone vibrated a few minutes later with his answer. 

Real happy to hear that. It’s gonna be a good game. 

You thought that was it, but moments later another message came through - and there was a picture attached to it. Second to last time I’m putting on this uniform.

It was slightly blurry and off-center, but it was of Jack. He was dressed in his uniform and missing his hat, the grin on his face wide. You looked closer, seeing that he was standing in front of his locker, and realized that he’d likely taken the photo only moments before sending it. That means it was for me, and… “Shit.” 

If he’d sent you a photo, that meant he was probably waiting for a reply. You didn’t keep him waiting, sending back a winking emoji along with the text: Looking good, Jack - DAMN. But I think I prefer your other uniform. 

It was just flirty enough to let him know you appreciated it, and not over the top the point he’d think you were being clingy. But after a few minutes, you saw that the message had been delivered - and unread … which meant he’d see it after the game. And that means I have a few hours to relax. 

But you didn’t relax. Instead, you ate dinner on the couch and tried not to think too hard about the Friday night game. 

— 

You were a few minutes early to Erin’s on Friday, and Caleb was already waiting in the front yard when you pulled up. 

You heard him yelling for Erin and Troy, even with the windows shut. By the time he was reaching for the door handle, you were laughing, head tilted down and one palm flat against your forehead. “Hey, Caleb. Let me guess… you’re excited.” 

“Of course I am.” He settled into the back seat, buckling in. “Aren’t you? Won’t be as cool as what happened the last game, but my mom gave me money to buy a new jersey.” Well, for me, it’s even more cool, but you don’t know that.

“Oh yeah?” You caught his eye in the rearview mirror, grinning. “Whose are you gonna get?” The look on his face was answer enough, just like you’d assumed. “Jack, then. Hopefully they have one in your size.” 

Erin and Troy approached the car, the woman letting him pass her so that he could sit in the back with Caleb while she took her place next to you. But it was him that spoke first, greeting you and reaching forward to squeeze your shoulder before he was fully situated. “Thank you for driving. And thanks for the tickets.” 

“Yeah, thank you!” Caleb joined in, nodding enthusiastically. “Mom also said we’re supposed to -”

“My mother,” Erin interjected, reaching for the volume knob to twist the radio’s sound lower. “She said we’re supposed to buy you dinner tonight, as a thank you.” 

“It’s not necessary.” Heading down the street, you shrugged. “It’s not like I paid for these tickets, so if we split parking, it’s even.” 

“Still.” She elbowed you. “We’re going to buy you dinner and maybe a drink or two.” I might need those.

The four of you made small talk on the drive downtown, though the closer you got to the stadium, the quieter you got while they kept things going. Why am I nervous? It’s not like I’m going to run into him. 

But there was a chance you’d see him, and that Jack would see you. It seemed inevitable that Caleb would want to go back down closer to the field in an attempt to meet the man a second time. And if that happened, you couldn’t just hang back with Erin, letting Troy sit with the boy. No. I’d have to go, otherwise it looks like I’m avoiding him after he did something nice for us today. 

You were early enough that there was still available parking in the attached garage, and before you could do anything about it, Troy stuck his hand out the window, debit card held firmly between his fingers. 

Erin laughed about it as you pulled away to park, but all you managed was a tiny smile and quiet thank you before slipping into a space. Here goes nothing. 

The four of you joined the slow trickle of other fans heading toward the elevators. After getting on, Caleb inserted himself between Erin and Troy while you leaned against the far wall, chewing on your lower lip. 

“We have to go to Will Call first.” You looked at the preteen, raising a brow. “We can’t just run to get in line like last time.” 

He grumbled back that he knew, and you laughed, your mood lightening considerably. And as your group exited the elevator and turned toward where the ticketing windows were, you stayed that way. Troy offered to wait with Caleb so you weren’t all crowding the line, and you agreed, thankful for a few minutes of time alone with your friend. 

“He’s going to want to go and meet the players.” She spoke quietly, leaning closer to you. “What happens when you see -”

“Nothing.” You shrugged, taking a breath. “Or, nothing weird, I hope. He seems like the kind of guy that wouldn’t make a big deal of what happened.” 

“What about you?” You stepped forward, only a few people between you and the windows. “Can you be cool about it?”

“I’d hope so.” You looked over at her, grinning. “It wasn’t awkward when he left, so I think I did pretty well there.” She didn’t say anything else until it was your turn, Erin stepping forward with you and waiting to see what you’d say. “Hi. I’m supposed to have some tickets waiting for me. I think I’m on a list?” 

The man behind the glass nodded. “I’ll need to see your ID.” Reaching into your bag, you pulled your wallet out and then handed the thin card over, sliding it through the opening. He took it and started typing, his eyes on the computer screen in front of him. “Oh.” He hummed, tipping his head to the side, and then reached for the phone beside the device. “Hey, we need to send someone from SL down to ticketing to pick up a group.” 

You glanced over at Erin, confused, but her expression was the same as yours. SL? What’s that? Turning your head, you looked over at Caleb and Troy, the little boy seated on a stone wall while he looked up to talk to the man. Why do we need to be picked up? The sound of your name got your attention, and you looked back at the window, sucking in a breath. “Yeah? Sorry. I -”

“If you and your group will step off to the side by the door,” he pointed, still smiling. “Someone will be down in a few minutes to escort you in.” He slid your ID back to you. “Have a good night.” You thanked him, somewhat dazed, and turned toward the door, Erin close behind you. 

“We didn’t get tickets? What happens now? What did -” 

“Fuck if I know, Erin. I have no idea what’s going on.” She waved her brother and fiance over, the two of them meeting you moments later. 

“What’s going on? Where are the tickets?” Troy looked between you, frowning. “Do we need to -”

“Someone’s coming to get us.” You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “I know nothing else.” Jack had seemed certain that he had tickets available for you, so you weren’t worried about getting into the stadium, but as to whatever else happened, you were clueless. Maybe it’s one of the lower sections. Maybe it’s the club section and we need wristbands or something. 

No one had anything else to say, and by the time the door opened a minute or so later, you were even more confused. But the woman - who introduced herself as Mary - put you at ease. “Welcome to Players Weekend.” She opened the door fully, greeting you by name. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your seats for the game.” Sneaking a look at your friends after you thanked her, you caught Erin’s eye, the woman’s gleaming with intrigue. “It’s a little busy tonight, so make sure you stay close.” 

You did - following Mary as she led you down a short hallway and then through another set of doors and onto the lower concourse. You felt better one you were inside with the crowd, the thought that since you were in the stadium, that was all that mattered crossing your mind. 

But your thoughts blanked as she led the four of you toward a third set of doors and used a badge hanging from her belt to unlock them. “Where are we going?” Caleb broke the silence, the boy pushing forward to stand next to you. “I’ve never been in here before.” 

“This is the entrance to the dugout suites.” Mary looked down at him, her smile gentle. “Not many people have been in them before.” The dugout suites? Freezing at her words, your mouth dropped open. Jack, what did you do? “Come on. Yours is one of the cozier ones, but it’s one of my personal favorites.” A fucking suite? 

You walked down another hallway, the space curving to follow the shape of the stadium, and you realized that you were heading toward the Statesman’s dugout. Your head whipped to the side and you saw that Troy had put that together, too, his eyes wide and his grin threatening to split his face. “A suite? Right by where the players are?” Caleb was next to Mary, the boy’s voice loud. “Why are we -” 

“I don’t know.” She stopped in front of a door that had the words CHAMPAGNE LOUNGE engraved onto a golden plaque next to the team’s logo before reaching for the keycard again “But I do know that you’re going to have an amazing time.” She swiped the card and the light turned green. “Go ahead. Open the door.” Caleb looked back at you and you nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

He opened the door and cautiously peeked inside, but as soon as he saw something, he darted in, leaving the rest of you standing in the hallway. Erin called after him, rushing forward and following him inside, but Mary only laughed, pushing the door all the way open and gesturing for you to follow. 

“The view is incredible, I don’t blame him for being excited.” 

She wasn’t lying. The entire back wall of the suite was windows so that the field stretched out in front of you, a cluster of seats on a small porch visible through the tinted glass. Caleb was busy pulling the door open to get to where they were, but you stopped just inside of the room, shaking your head. “This is too much, I just …” 

“My advice?” Mary looked at you, raising her eyebrow. “Enjoy it.” I will, but… “This is the Champagne Lounge.” 

“As in the team owner?” Troy stepped forward, arms crossed. “That Champagne?”

“Yes.” Mary nodded, giving you a wink. “He chose the decor, so that’s not on us, but …” You really looked around for the first time and had to bite back a laugh at the way it was decorated. I mean it makes sense, but … 

Everything was rustic and warm, the countertops and table surfaces made from gleaming wood. The floor looked a little rougher and worn, and you saw a few small area rugs scattered throughout the space, which made it more inviting. “You have a full menu available to you.” She moved toward the counter, picking up a small binder. “There are snacks and drinks along the back wall,” she pointed with one hand, flipping the pages open. “Left fridge is water and soda. The other is filled with beer, and there are a couple bottles of the Statesman/Whiskey collaboration for you to use.” He shield the binder up. “But if you want other kinds of mixed drinks, they’re all in here and you can order them to be delivered. Same with the food options.”

“How much -”

“Everything is complimentary.” Her smile was soft. “You’ll have an attendant that will come and check on you once I’ve let them know you’re in here, and they’ll be available whenever you need them through the tablet on the counter. But anything in this menu is fair game.” 

It made your head spin. You’d assumed that you’d have tickets somewhere decent - maybe in the lower level - but hadn’t ever even dreamed that Jack would get you a suite, much less Champ’s suite. 

“There’s also something for you in that box over there.” Mary gestured toward a white, rectangular box that was sitting on a small side table. What the hell is that? “There’s a bathroom back here,” she pointed at the side wall, and then put her hand on her hip. “The door does lock if you go out into the hallway, so once all of you leave the suite, you can’t get back in.” 

“Ok.” You nodded, blinking slowly. “It’s taking me a little while to catch up. This is … I wasn’t expecting these seats, and …” She laughed, asking if there was anything else you needed, and when you said no, she turned away and headed for the door, letting you know that someone else would be in a few minutes later. 

And once she was gone, you finally exhaled, covering your face with both hands. “You must have done something right. This is fucking insane!” Erin put her hands on your shoulders, saying your name. “How did -”

“I don’t know.” Biting your lip, you shook your head rapidly. “I have no fucking idea, this is …” 

“Are you guys coming out here?” Caleb poked his head in, his eyes bulging. “You can see the whole place. We’re right next to the dugout. I can see the steps where the players walk out onto the field!” Troy took a few steps forward and Erin followed, looking back at you. 

“Give me a second.” You could tell she was worried, but she still went, leaving you alone in the interior of the suite. After spinning slowly around to take everything in, you reached for your phone, fingers shaking as you opened your text with Jack. The last message was from him, sent hours earlier - and telling you to enjoy the game. 

You didn’t know what to think. You wanted to let him know you were grateful, but didn’t trust your voice not to waver in a voice message. So you settled for raising the device and taking a selfie, the suite and field visible behind you. 

This is too much, Jack. But thank you. I don’t even know what else to say. 

He was likely getting ready in the locker room - and you didn’t know if he’d even see the message before taking the field. But he’ll see it later. And he’ll see what time I sent it. You were just getting ready to put your phone away and join your friends when a message popped up on the screen. 

You’re welcome. But where’s your jersey? 

“What jersey?” You hadn’t ever told him that you owned one, but when your eyes flicked over to the white box again, your stomach dropped. He didn’t. Leaving your phone on the counter, you approached the box, dimly aware of the sounds of your friends talking through the open door. Using both hands, you lifted the lid, swearing as the contents came into view. “Jesus, Jack. What the fuck.” 

There was a note sitting atop the bright yellow fabric, and with unsteady hands you reached for it, heart pounding while you read the words. 

(Note text: Couldn’t start the game dirty. Thought you might want this though. JD)

You lifted it out of the box, holding it up in front of you. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to a black smudge on one shoulder, and you laughed as you realized what it was from. He’s worn this. 

It was the jersey he’d worn in the promo shots, and the smudge was from the bat where it had rested on his shoulder. And I get to keep it? 

Before you could second guess yourself, you pulled the jersey on over the clothing you wore, leaving it unbuttoned. Shivering at the thought that the last person to have worn it was him, you leaned back over and grabbed your phone before heading outside. 

Erin’s eyes widened at the sight of you, and Troy also looked surprised, but after a swift shake of the head from your friend, he stayed quiet. Please do. I don’t want to talk about this right now. 

Caleb was standing on one of the seats, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the ledge in front of him. Instead of saying anything to your friends, you focused on him, calling out his name. “We got a pretty good view, hmm?”

“Yeah. The on deck circle is right there. Theres a net in the way, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll get to watch everyone while they wait to hit.” What? You crossed the small space and stood next to him, also resting your elbows on the ledge. “Do you think I can take pictures of the batters?”

“I don’t see why not.” You eyed the ground in front of you, the Statesman logo almost mocking you. It’s so close. He’s going to be right there before he bats. “Just make sure the flash is off. I feel like it would be pretty distracting otherwise.” He agreed with you, nodding. 

“Hey, take a picture of us.” Erin leaned forward, holding her phone out. “We’ll send it to my mom.” You did as she asked, taking a few of the three of them standing in front of the netting. It was only then that Caleb saw what you were wearing, the boy asking you question after question that you answered with partial truths. 

You didn’t want to lie to him, but knew Erin was right; telling Caleb that you and Jack were in contact wasn’t a good idea. Not yet. Not until I know more about what this is. But seeing your jersey brought up the fact that if you couldn’t get back into the suite after leaving, there was no way for Caleb to get his. 

He was disappointed until the suite attendant appeared a few minutes later to take your food order - and then asked if there was anything else she could do for you. “Is there any way he could go and buy a jersey? We didn’t know we’d be in a suite, so we didn’t stop on the way, and he’s -”

“Of course.” She looked down at Caleb, grinning. “I can take you, or one of the adults here can come with us.” She pointed. “There’s a team shop right above where we are.”

‘I’ll go with you, buddy.” Troy stepped forward, reaching out to ruffle Caleb’s hair. “Might want to get one of my own.” He looked over at you and winked, and it took everything in you not to groan. Smooth, Troy. 

They left you and Erin moments later, and as soon as the door shut behind them, she whirled to face you, her eyes wide. 

“We’re in the owner’s suite. He gave you the fucking jersey he wore to do promo shots for this weekend.” She scoffed, raising her voice. “Fuck, that’s probably the first Statesman uniform he’s had on since he got hurt, and now it’s yours.” She paused, gesturing toward the field. “You must have been amazing in bed, because -”

“Erin.” Holding both hands up, you shook your head. “I’m just as confused as you are. He said he wanted to see me again, but when he asked about tickets for this weekend, he didn’t mention anything after, just… this.” You used one hand to indicate the suite you were in. “And by this I mean tickets. I had no idea it was going to be a suite. It’s too much.” 

“Maybe he’s hoping for a really nice ‘thank you’ blowj-”

“I don’t think so.” You cut her off, sinking into one of the chairs and crossing your arms. “I asked if I could the other night, and he said no, because we didn’t know each other well enough. And I don’t think that’s changed.” 

You didn’t want to admit that the same thought had crossed your mind - that Jack was being so generous because he expected something in return. But he didn’t hesitate to ask for things in bed. If it happens again, he’d just tell me what he wanted so that I could either say yes or no. 

“You’re joking.” She sat next to you, crossing her legs and leaning closer. I’m not. “Did … did you even have sex? Because if you didn’t, and he’s doing this? Then -”

“We did.” It was a relief to admit it, even though you hated the idea of spreading personal details. “And it was good, Erin. Like, really fucking good. But there’s no way it was this good, especially for him. You’ve seen the same things online that I have about him. No one’s ever … people would talk about him doing this for them. And no one has.”

“So maybe they lied.” She shrugged. “Maybe they said he wasn’t attentive or interested in more than one night because it was their way of dealing with the fact that he never called them again.” She bit her lip. “Maybe it was them wanting to get the last word in and make it harder for him to do the same in the future.” She reached out, taking your hand and squeezing it. “And maybe the ones that he did this stuff for, if he has in the past? Maybe they respected him enough to keep it quiet.” 

She’s probably right. You swallowed hard, turning your head to look through the netting and at the field. For everyone that had said something negative about their experience with Jack online, there had to be others with good experiences that had kept their mouths shut. And I’m one of those. “What would I do without you?” Squeezing her hand before you let go, you stood again and went back inside of the suite, Erin following closely. “Want a drink? We can open these bottles of Statesman, according to Mary.” 

She did - and by the time Caleb, Troy and the attendant came back a little while later, the two of you were laughing over your drinks, a few of the bags of snacks open on the table between you. Both guys had bought jerseys - Caleb’s was a smaller version of yours, while Troy was wearing one of the Statesman home blues, Jack’s last name and number on the back. 

The food arrived shortly after, and once each of you had made a plate, you headed back outside to sit in the seats and watch the on-field activity, Caleb narrating around mouthfuls of chicken tenders and french fries. 

You relaxed the longer you sat with your friends, and by the time the players started to come onto the field for warm-ups, you’d talked yourself into a state of calm. 

Sort of. 

You were fine until Jack took the field, a chorus of cheers coming from further down the third base line - the same as it had been when you and Caleb had seen him the previous week. Erin shot you a look but you ignored it, instead watching as he began his stretches, the same dark-haired woman supervising each movement. 

He looked good, and even though it had only been a little over a week since you’d seen him play, you could tell that he was stronger, too. “He looks better, right Caleb?” You nudged the boy, smiling at him. “Less hesitation when he -”

“He’s really stretching out those calves, hmm?” Erin cleared her throat. “He’s very flexible.” You glared at her and she wrinkled her nose and winked, but didn’t say anything else, even as Troy snorted into his drink. She’s not wrong, though. 

“Sorry we won’t get to meet the players today, kiddo.” Leaning forward, you propped your elbow up on the ledge in front of you before resting your chin on your hand. “I know how much you wanted to do that.”

“Are you kidding?” He turned to look at you, rolling his eyes. “This is way better. We get to see everyone up close.” You agreed - and so did Troy, and for the next few minutes, the four of you watched the players in silence, though your attention was specifically on Jack and his trainer. 

When he stepped out of view to talk to fans in the stands, you decided to go back inside and make yourself a second drink - the last one you were planning on having, since you had to drive home. Once it was mixed you lifted the cup to your lips, your other hand on the bottle. Just enjoy tonight. It doesn’t have to be more than this. You swiped your thumb slowly over where his signature was etched into the glass and took a deep breath before turning to head back outside. 

But when you reached the door, you paused, sucking in a breath at the sight of Jack crouched down in front of the netting and talking to Caleb, Erin and Troy. He must have caught your movement in his peripheral, because he looked up and nodded, his grin widening. “There she is.” 

“Hello, Whiskey.” You raised your glass, giving him a genuine smile, even as your heart pounded. “Welcome back to Louisville.” 

“It’s good to be here.” His lips twitched, one hand lifting to pull his hat off before he repositioned it on his head, never breaking eye contact. “You got the good seats tonight.” 

“We do. The good liquor, too.” That got a laugh out of him, Jack rising to his feet and straightening his shoulders as you brought the drink to your lips. 

“Enjoy yourselves. I’ve gotta get goin’.” He turned away and paused, putting a hand on his hip before he spun back to face all of you. What are you going to say, Jack? “Nice jersey, by the way.” You nearly choked on the liquid in your mouth at his words, and if Jack’s quiet laugh was any indication, he was very aware of it. You jackass. 

You caught his wink and then he did disappear, heading down the stairs and into the dugout. Ok, that could have gone worse. It could have gone better, too, but at least you hadn’t made a fool of yourself in front of him - which was the important thing.

The sound of Caleb talking about how Jack remembered him faded as you went back inside, setting your drink down on the counter and then gripping the edge of it, head lowered. The hard part’s over. He saw me and he knows I’m here, and he saw me in the - 

“He likes you.” Troy was right behind you, and even though you jumped at the sound of his voice, you recovered quickly, spinning to look at him. What? “He walked over and immediately said hi to Caleb, but he looked around and he seemed disappointed. And then you came outside and his mood changed.” Troy’s smile widened, and he stuck his tongue into his cheek briefly before saying anything else. “And if he looked for you, that means he knew you were going to be here, and -”

Shit. Is it that obvious? “I’m not going to confirm or deny a goddamn thing.”

“You just did.” Troy laughed, reaching out with one hand to squeeze your arm. “Good for you, though. He seems like fun.” You have no idea. “We should go back out there. The game’s going to start.” 

Wordlessly, you followed Troy back out and into the seating area - just as the request to rise for the National Anthem blared out through the loudspeakers.

— 

By the sixth inning, you weren’t worried about what was going on between you and Jack anymore. Instead, you were upset, because The Statesman were losing. 

It was no fault of Jack’s, though - he’d gotten a single and walked in his two at bats, the crowd giving him a standing ovation each time he headed to home plate. He’d also made a few really good plays at third - one of them throwing out someone at home as the other team tried to bunt in a run. 

The rest of the team was the problem, with errors made in the outfield, a dropped ball by the shortstop and three really bad pitches that had resulted in six total runs scored. There was still time for a comeback, and even though chances were growing slimmer by the minute, a three run deficit wasn’t too much to overcome. 

When Jack took his place in the on-deck circle, there were two men on and only one out. You stayed in the position that you’d been in for most of the game - arms crossed and elbows resting on the wall in front of you, leaning as close to the action as you could get. 

Watching him up close was special, and you’d snapped a few pictures in his earlier at bats of him bending over and adding the weights to the bat before he swung, as well as of him with it perched on his shoulder and in motion. It wasn’t just Jack that you photographed, but you paid more attention to him than the others. 

You were so close that you could hear the players grunting and groaning as they took their practice swings, as well as some of the things they yelled back to the other players in the dugout and on the field, and Jack was vocal. It didn’t surprise you after the time you’d spent with him, but if you’d said that the way he was on-field and with his teammates and the ump crew wasn’t a turn on, it would have been a lie. 

Because if the fans got into the game, Jack was on another level. 

He paused in his swings to watch the at bat in front of him, and after one particularly bad call, you heard his disdain for the ump - the man’s shout of “That wasn’t a damn strike even in a little league game!” clearly audible, as was the way he ducked his head toward the ground and kicked the dirt in a side-to-side motion with one cleat while he repeated the word “bullshit” under his breath. 

During a visit to the mound by the catcher, Jack looked over at where you were, locking eyes with you and rolling his, mouthing the word “bullshit” again. You laughed in return, mouthing the words I know, before shaking your head. It was easier than you’d thought it would be to interact with him, and part of you wondered if it was because it was pointed but not personal, and that he wasn’t hiding his actions.

The entire stadium groaned when the batter popped out and the runners couldn’t advance, but those groans turned into cheers when Jack’s walk up music started, and your breath caught in your throat again when he looked over at your suite before he headed to the plate, smirking and giving you a quick wink. 

“He changed his song!” Erin leaned over, elbowing you a few times. “This is my favorite one!” It was yours, too - and you’d always thought that it was a little inappropriate for an MLB stadium filled with kids - but that day, you didn’t care. 

He strutted toward the batter’s box as Pony blared through the speakers, and you didn’t look away for a second. And neither did any of the other women in this stadium if those cheers are anything to go by. 

He stepped into the box and then got ready, kicking at the dirt and using one hand to tug on the front of his jersey, making sure that the chain he wore was resting flush against his chest, and not on top of the material. He took a few practice swings and then tapped the bat against the plate, releasing a breath and nodding before settling the lumber back on his shoulder. 

“C’mon Jack!” You yelled the words and smacked your palm on the wall a few times, shaking your head. “Bring ‘em home!” Erin laughed next to you, but she also cheered, and then Caleb joined in, the three of you going silent just before the pitcher set and threw. 

It was a ball - so far inside that it almost hit Jack, but he stayed in place, cocking his head to the side as he lifted the bat and took another swing before settling it back in place. 

The crowd was loud - roaring out his name when Jack swung at the next pitch and made contact. The noise increased until it hooked foul, everyone wincing and groaning. He didn’t even run, though. He knew it wasn’t fair. Jack adjusted his gloves and then stepped back into the box, getting situated just in time for another pitch - that one ball two. 

“A single scores one.” Troy reached up, linking his fingers through the netting as he leaned closer. “A double will score both, and -” Jack swung and missed, and you lowered your head, swearing. Fuck. “Come on Daniels!” Troy let go of the fence and clapped his hands. “Just wait for your pitch!” 

He didn’t swing the next time and as the count ran full, the atmosphere in the stadium changed considerably. If no one scores here, the game’s over. It was a nervous energy that coursed through you, but when you looked back at Jack, you saw that he was still calm, his grip on the bat handle loose as he stepped out of the batter’s box and looked around the stadium. 

“He’s going to strike out.” Troy sat back, shaking his head. “This pitcher’s been too good today.” 

“No, he’s not.” Caleb scowled at the man, phone in hand. “He’s going to get a hit.” He jumped up and down a few times. “He has to.” 

“Whatever happens, it needs to happen now because I feel sick to my stomach.” You mumbled the words, lowering your head and groaning. “Come on, Jack.” You wet your lips and looked back at him, watching as he rocked back and forth, awaiting the pitch. 

You knew as soon as he swung that bat that he’d make contact - and when, moments later, the crack of the connection reached your ears, you knew it was gone. And so did Jack, the man keeping his eye on the ball as he headed to first, and then throwing both hands up into the air and cheering as he rounded the base.

“Fuck yeah, Jack!” You jumped up and down and then turned to hug Erin, the woman squealing in your ear before she let go and reached for Troy, who was shaking Caleb back and forth in celebration, the boy yelling in excitement. 

You focused back on the field - where the two men that had been on base were waiting at home plate for Jack. When he rounded 3rd, you cheered louder, clapping your hands and yelling out his name. There was little chance that he could hear you over the others in the stadium, and when he got to home and stomped on the base, the other two engulfing him in celebration and knocking his hat off, you wished that you’d had your camera out - and had gotten the moment on video. 

The three of them headed back in your direction, Jack at the center of the group, and even though it was fast, you didn’t miss his glance at your suite, or the tiny nod and smirk he gave you when you grinned up at him, biting down on the inside of your lip. Oh, shit. 

“That was awesome!” Caleb’s voice broke the moment, and when you looked over, you saw that he was following the three men with his phone. “And I got it all on video!” He lowered the device and then beamed up at you and his sister. “If I send it to you, will you post it?”

“That’s a long video to post, buddy.” Troy settled back into his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face as the next batter swung and missed. “But it’s really cool that you got it all.” He looked sad but agreed, and when Caleb looked at you again, you raised a brow. 

“You can still send it to me if you want, though. I’d love to watch it.” And to see if he got that smirk in there, because… damn. 

He told you he would once you were out of the stadium, and then Caleb tucked his phone away and returned his attention to the field, where the batter had just struck out, ending the inning. But they’re tied now, and that’s all that matters.  

For the next two and a half innings, neither team scored, which meant that it all came down to the bottom of the ninth. Jack was due to bat third, which meant you’d get to see him once more that night. And that might be it for a while. 

You’d taken advantage of the suite during the game, getting more to eat and drink, ordering ice cream sundaes that were delivered by your attendant, and watching a few at bats on the TV mounted to one wall instead of live in front of you. It was an experience that you’d never forget, and you’d heard your friends say the same throughout the night. 

Neither Erin or Troy had said anything about Jack’s wink or the nod, but you knew that they’d seen both. She wouldn’t spill your secrets to him, but you knew he’d likely ask, and part of you wondered what would happen if things continued between you and Jack, even on just a friendly basis. I’d have to tell them then.

The attendant told you that both bottles of Statesman were yours to take, and so between the 8th and 9th innings, you’d packed them up into the provided boxes and then tucked them into a bag that she’d left for you, along with the partially eaten candy and popcorn - figuring that they were just going to toss it anyway if you left it behind. 

And when the Statesman came up to bat for the final time, you rushed back out into the seats, standing between Erin and the left wall of the suite and drumming your fingers nervously against the concrete. 

That time, Jack paid no attention to the crowds while he waited to hit, instead crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning against the end of his bat, eyes on his teammate. “Just get on base.” You whispered the words, looking toward home. “Give Jack a chance.” 

The game meant very little in the grand scheme of things. 

The Statesman weren’t close to leading in the standings, and it would have taken a lot to get them to a contending position for the playoffs. But you still wanted them to win, if for no other reason than to top off Jack’s return. He did his part, though. He tied it up. 

And the man at the plate did his part, too, knocking a single between second and third, which meant that Jack got to the plate with one on and nobody out, his walk up song back to the one he’d used for his first two at bats. 

Caleb was nearly vibrating with excitement, his phone out and aimed at Jack once more - and you decided to do the same. Fuck it, you thought, pressing the record button. I’m just a fan right now. He took the first pitch - a called strike - and you watched him shake his head in disagreement, though he didn’t argue for too long. 

The second pitch slipped from the pitcher’s hand and veered downward, and even though Jack moved quickly, he couldn’t get out of the way. It hit the ankle guard he wore and bounced away, and for a few horrifying seconds, you worried that his return to the team would be short lived. 

The entire stadium booed, but the sound turned to a cheer when Jack bent over and pulled the protection off, tossing it to the side along with his batting helmet, and jogged to first. His trainer was close behind, the woman’s arms crossed over her chest as she assessed his condition and finally gave him the go-ahead to stay in. 

The game continued once she’d jogged back across the field and into the dugout, and you - along with thousands of others - watched anxiously, waiting. 

You didn’t have long to wait. On the third pitch of the at bat, he blooped a hit into shallow right, the ball hitting the ground and then skipping through the legs of the outfielder. 

The entire stadium roared, and the four of you did, too, cheering and clapping as the winning run crossed the plate. Erin wrapped you in her arms in celebration, but you kept your eyes on the field. I don’t want to miss this. Jack didn’t even finish rounding the bases and instead cut across the infield and headed for home, both arms out in front of him as he clapped and cheered. 

He’d lost his hat again as he hurried in, and by the time he was hugging his teammate, all of them jumping up and down, his hair had curled over his forehead - one lock hanging between his eyes. He got swallowed up in the crowd of people and you turned away, pulling free from Erin’s hold. 

“Hell yeah!” Troy pumped his fist in the air. “What a win.” It took a few seconds, but all of you managed to calm down and look back at the field, watching as the teams did their congratulatory handshakes and then broke for the dugouts and locker rooms. 

Jack got pulled for an interview, but you could barely see it, and so the four of you began to pack up, heading back inside after one final look at the field. The attendant was back, and she asked if you wanted a group photo before you left - something that Caleb agreed to for all of you. 

But once those were taken on all four phones, you had no reason to stay in the suite. She led you back down the hallway and to the main concourse, thanking you for coming and telling you to have a safe drive home before saying goodbye.

It was strange to be around so many people again after having no crowd to deal with for the entire night, but the mood was cheerful, and that hadn’t changed after walking back to the car and putting everything you carried into the trunk. 

You hoped you wouldn’t have to sit in traffic for very long. Because you’d gotten to the game so early and were on one of the lower garage floors, you got your wish. Only ten minutes later, you were out of the garage and on your way home. Caleb and Troy were having an intense conversation in the back seat, and Erin was leaning against her window, head propped up on one hand. 

“That was really cool.” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road. “Make sure you thank the person that got those tickets for us.” You knew what she was doing - but refused to take the bait. “Or I can, if -”

“I’ll text when I get home.” You narrowed your eyes and looked over at her. “I promise.” You heard Troy snort in the back seat, but Erin thankfully didn’t say anything else. 

Caleb was the first one out of the car as soon as you parked, the boy yelling a ‘thank you’ at you before he sprinted toward the front door, bursting to tell his parents about the game. Troy and Erin hung back, and you were surprised to hear him speak first, after leaning forward to slot himself between the seats. 

“That was really fucking cool. Please, make sure you tell Jack that we appreciated tonight.” You assured him you would, and when Erin reached over to squeeze your knee, you cleared your throat. 

“Thank both of you for being … discreet.” Shrugging, you gripped the wheel with both hands. “I don’t want to make too much of -” You were cut off when your phone rang, and thanks to the fact that it was connected to your car via Bluetooth, they were both able to see exactly who was calling: Jack. “Not a word from either of you.” 

Erin laughed, but as you reached for the screen to answer the phone, she opened the door and got out, Troy not far behind. Your finger hovered for a second and then you answered, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Hey, Jack.” 

“I’m not interruptin’, am I?” 

“No, I just dropped everyone off, and I’m getting ready to go home.” Backing out of the driveway, you turned in the direction of your place. “What are -”

“Come over.” You sucked in a breath, looking away from the road and toward the display. What? “I mean, if you’re not busy, and want to, you can come over tonight. You should come over.”

“I don’t know where you live.” You glanced down, realizing that you were still wearing your clothes from the game. “And I need to go home and change, I’m -”

“You still wearin’ my jersey?” Confirming that you were, you were relieved to hear his groan, Jack’s continued words spoken in a much softer tone than he’d been using before. “Then you definitely don’t need to go home. I’d sure like to see you in that without a net between us.” 

You stopped at a light, pressing your fingertips to your mouth and thinking. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to spend more time with him. And if he’d called you immediately after arriving home from a walk off win, he obviously wanted to spend more time with you, too. Fuck it. Why not? 

“Alright, Jack. Send me your address and I’ll be there soon.” 

—

Sample dugout suite view:

Alternate Players Weekend photo (thank you @stealyourblorbos):

[cosyvelvetorchid]

I finally finished it!

15k+ word, Buck 2.0, Tommy 1.5, smutty with a bit of fluff fic.

To be completely honest, I’m not entirely happy with it—I’ve certainly written better fics. But if I didn’t get it finished and up it would never be posted.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and soothes your little bucktommy broken hearts 🩶

**********

Word count: 15,537

Rated: E

Excerpt:

Buck wasn’t exactly sure of his sexuality. For most of his life he was straight—women were what he wanted. And he wanted them. A lot of them. There was a time where he actually considered that he might be a sex addict.

Really, he was just searching for something. He didn’t know what, or where he would find it, just knew that there was a hole somewhere inside of him that something was supposed to fit within.

And then he met up with some old buddies he’d met in Peru, went to a bar, had way too many drinks, and before he knew it he was in a dark corner with a guys tongue down his throat. It was sloppy and wet and didn’t lead to anything more but suddenly, that thing that Buck had been searching for his whole life; the illusive unknown and unidentifiable something that was missing, was clear as day.

That was three months ago. He hadn’t said a word about it to anybody—not his sister, defiantly not his parents and not the 118 either. He wasn’t ashamed of what had happened, but he needed time to for some introspection—to figure out what it really meant for him; what he wanted. Plus, at the time it happened he was a month shy of finishing his probationary year at the 118 and though he’d come along way from stealing engines to hook up, he still wanted to prove that he was worthy of becoming a fully fledged member of the LAFD and that was his primary focus and what he wanted everyone else to see and not his sexuality.

Thankfully he passed his probation and welcomed into the 118 permanently.

*****

Buck couldn't deny that he found Tommy gorgeous. That is, he couldn't deny it now. Tommy had piqued an interest within him when he'd first joined the 118 fourteen months ago, only he was oblivious as to what it was. For a while he'd thought it was jealousy—Tommy was built a little bigger than himself, and just seemed so effortlessly cool.

It was after his drunken kiss with the guy from the bar that he noticed Tommy. His beautiful big blue eyes, those huge biceps, and yeah that ass that you could sink your teeth into. He wasn't exactly crushing on the guy, but he could admire the beauty.

But his personality was an entirely different matter. Everyone gravitated towards Tommy; wanting his approval, inviting him to games or hang outs. Which buck for the life of him couldn’t figure out why. For as excellent as he was at his job, he was also an asshole. At least to Buck. No matter what Buck did it was never right—Tommy always found some way to criticise him. Hen had told him to give Tommy time to warm up to him; that deep down he was a good guy. Must have be really fucking deep because at Buck could not seem to find that good side no matter how hard he tried to find it.

Buck had assumed once he'd passed his probation the attitude would let up. It did not. He was professional when it came to work matters, but beyond that he either sniped at Buck or ignored him entirely. Buck wasn't sure which he'd prefer.

*

Tommy walked into work in a particularly bad mood. He was short with Buck as usual, but he was also equally hot-tempered with everyone. Sal, his partner, had left a few days prior to take up the Captains spot at the 122, and Tommy was clearly not handling it very well.

He'd snapped at Hen for offering to help him clean the engine, he'd sworn at Chimney for dropping a knife near his foot—which didn't even touch him—in the kitchen. And then Buck made the egregious mistake of turning a corner without looking and bumping into Tommy which send his mug of coffee all down Tommy's shirt.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Buckley?! Are those eyes on your face there for just fucking decoration?!" He shoulder barged Buck as he walked past, aggressively stomping towards the bathroom. Buck followed him into the room, despite that voice in the back of his mind telling him it was a bad idea. Tommy was leaning over the sink, running a wet paper towel over the wet stain on his shirt.

"I-I'm really sorry, Tommy. I wasn’t-"

"You weren't what?!" Tommy interrupted curtly. "You weren't paying attention? Surprise surprise the 118 puppy can't pay attention." He snarled.

Buck had been called a few names during his probie year, but none bothered him like "puppy" did. It was just so fucking infantilising.

"Im not a puppy." Buck told him through gritted teeth. He had been slowly growing tired of Tommy's behaviour towards him. He'd put up with it while he was on probation because he understood that you have to earn the trust of firefighters; prove you're not just capable of the job, but that they can safely put their lives in your hands. That trust takes time, and Buck put in a tremendous amount of effort to prove himself.

Everyone else had accepted him. Everyone else had welcomed him into the family. But not Tommy. Tommy had continued to keep him at arms length and it had began pissing Buck off.

Tommy rolled his eyes and scoffed, something he'd done a thousand times, but this time Buck bit back.

"What the hell is your problem with me, Kinard?" He stepped forward; his pulse beginning to rise.

"Do you want a list?" He replied, continuing to rub at his shirt pointlessly as the stain was not going anywhere. He didn't bother looking at Buck.

Actually, a list would be helpful.

"Seriously, what the hell have I done to you?! A little hazing while I was a probie I get but I passed my probation period two fucking months ago! So why are you still acting like a colossal douchebag?!"

Tommy turned his head quickly and his eyes finally met Bucks. His jaw was tense and lips tightly curled. For a moment Buck thought Tommy was about to hit him.

Without warning he stepped forward, grabbed Buck by the scruff of his shirt and pushed forward, slamming Buck into the wall behind. Between the shock of being pushed and the minor winding of being slammed into the wall, Buck lost his ability to speak.

Tommys face was inches from his. His big blue eyes staring hard into Bucks and his hot and rapid breaths fanning his face. Buck immediately felt his pants tightening. It was so fucking ridiculous that this was what turned him on and yet there was his dick pushing against his zipper.

He knew needed to push him off and get out of the bathroom before Tommy noticed how hard he was and used it as more ammunition to treat him like shit. But before the thought had even finished in his mind, Tommy's hand was on Buck belt unbuckling it. His other hand still had hold of Bucks shirt while he pulled down the zipper.

His eyes didn't leave Bucks as his hand reached into his boxers and oh god!

**********

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

is it possible to have a glitchtrap x reader request, but glitchtrap is completely inside the reader's mind and perception alone?

🐰|The first time you completely saw him, it was in the night. You were trying to sleep, but seeing a strange rabbit appear before you didn’t help.|📼

🐰|Before he physically appeared before you, you’d been hearing Glitchtrap’s voice—but you kind of just... assumed it was your imagination.|📼

🐰|It was not.|📼

🐰|His presence is quick to cause a lot of changes—how would it not? ...You never had a roommate.|📼

—

You just wanted to go for a walk. It was a bit chilly out, that would be nice to feel, wouldn’t it?

Usually, it was just you on those walks—it was far more peaceful that way. Although, someone seemed to have other plans.

You’d nearly jumped up so high into the air when the strange rabbit appeared right in front of you—seemingly out of nowhere.

You’d certainly tried to convince your unexpected visitor—who’d been here for less than a day, to stay...

...But, considering that, as you walked below the night sky, the rabbit did the same... it hadn’t worked out.

Your eyes flickered around your surroundings for a moment, before falling back onto Glitchtrap. He was staring.

He hadn’t blinked. Not one bit. Nor had he moved his mouth. It was... creepy. Was Glitchtrap not capable of doing either?

A sigh escaped from your throat, as you rubbed at your eyes for a moment. “Let’s get one question out of the way...”

“Mmm?”

“Who all can see you?”

—

🐰|You’re shocked when you learn that, not only can you see and hear him—but Glitchtrap can also touch you.|📼

🐰|Glitchtrap himself seemed a little surprised by the fact, but is ultimately happy with it.|📼

🐰|You’ll find that he moves his hands around a lot—sometimes, they’ll be on your shoulders, or resting around your arm, or on your back.|📼

🐰|Glitchtrap has no sort of control over you—but he still tends to try and make suggestions about certain things.|📼

🐰|”You know, we could still get you suited up, and find someo-“ “No.” “Worth a shot.”|📼

—

You were sprawled out atop your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Your TV was on, but was at a rather low setting, so not much could be heard.

How exactly was this rabbit here? Why was he?

The way the situation was—with only you being capable of seeing and hearing him... it felt like a typical ghost situation.

However, he couldn’t be a ghost—could he? Ghost’s didn’t come from a video game, did they? Not normally, at least.

Glitchtrap had brought up a video game a handful of times—yet, you weren’t sure if you had ever heard of it or not.

You weren’t quite sure if you had ever played it, either. Why was he here?

The view of the ceiling was suddenly blocked by the rabbit in question—and you felt yourself jump back in alarm.

You would have fallen straight off of the bed in your alarmed state, if not for Glitchtrap reaching out, and grabbing your wrists.

“I don’t understand this...” You huffed.

Glitchtrap simply chuckled, his ears twitching. “I don’t quite either, but I’m certainly here to stay.”

—

🐰|If you’re around anyone else who can’t see and hear Glitchtrap, but he wants to speak, you usually just take your phone out.|📼

🐰|Glitchtrap, as it seems, is pretty fond of horror movies.|📼

🐰|If you ever happen to be watching any sort of horror movie, and Glitchtrap realizes, he takes a seat beside you. Glitchtrap has a lot to say.|📼

🐰|Glitchtrap starts calling you names like ‘dear’, and you aren’t quite sure if he’s being romantic or not.|📼

🐰|Horror movies aren’t the only thing that Glitchtrap tells you about—you’re pretty quick to discover that.|📼

🐰|Glitchtrap will randomly start telling you about a certain pizzeria, or anything to do with animatronics.|📼

[shoyastars]

The little Star

Ray x Mistin (Oc)

This a little fanfic :P

——————————————————————————-

When Ray held his Kid in his arms he felt a sense of responsibility, but also anxiety on how to raise him, he was lucky enough to have Mistin around to help reassure him and help out. The Child was named Ethan, Ethan liked spending time with his father, even if it’s only for a short time. The day when he started to notice the difference between Binary Star and Ray seemed to hit him like a rock to the face, how every kid in his grade thought of how cool the hero of stars was. Ethan felt conflicted…. Why didn’t his dad act like the shining hero of the stars?

Ethan seemed upset when he came home from school, Mistin’s parental instincts kicked in to ask.

“Everything alright?”

Ethan only looked away, a bit hesitant.

“Why is dad different from Binary Star?”

!!!

Mistin wasn’t expecting that, sure they would’ve seen it coming sooner or later but… now? While he’s still a little kid.

Mistin took in a deep sigh.

“Well… you know how some of those games the other kids in you’re class play?”

“Hm?”

“Well it’s like that.. but it’s for his work.”

“But… why?”

“You wouldn’t wanna see grumpy frowning hero do you?”

Mistin used two fingers to make a frown on their face, causing Ethan to laugh a bit.

“But to tell you the truth, wouldn’t it be better not to have you’re father be like his usual self in public?”

Ethan thought a bit, and shook his head no. Causing Mistin to smile at their son.

“I think that’s a good thing, because while the whole city has the hero Binary Star. We’ll always have you’re dad.”

With that they hugged their son, hoping he would be able to understand. Even though he was a child surely one day he’d understand.

When Ray got home, Mistin and Ethan were drawing pictures.

“Well aren’t you two quite the artists.”

He said as he leaned on the side.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Mistin was about to get up when Ethan got up and ran over to Ray, hugging him.

“I missed you to-“

“Don’t let Binary Star take you away!”

Both Mistin and Ray were stunned. Ok Ethan must’ve taken things the wrong way.

“Ethan what do you mean?”

“People want Binary Star, but you’re binary star, I don’t want them to take you away again!”

“Ethan…”

Yep definitely had one word go into one ear and out the other, suddenly Ethan started crying. Ray practically had to comfort him due to the fact he was afraid of letting go of his dad.

Mistin sat on the bed sighing and rubbing their head, Ethan really took the “people want binary star” as in, they want to take him away…. Maybe saying it was like those kid games was a bad thing… when they were clearly referring to a game of pretend.

The door opens and then closes. Ray looks over at Mistin.

“So, people want binary star huh?”

“I meant as in we can have Ray while the people have their hero. Guess that flew over his head more than I thought….”

Ray gives a small tired smile and only got on the bed and wrapped his arms around them.

“I’m glad you like having me.”

“Mhm.”

“Especially since there’s only one me.”

“Don’t rub it in asshole.”

“I’m glad to only have one Mistin.”

With that he kissed their cheek.

“And I’m glad you gave me a little star we can call our own son.”

“He does love you, you know that?”

“I know.”

Mistin smiles at him.

“Well I assume you’re tired especially after work, and dealing with a crying Ethan…”

“I don’t mind, we could be extra quiet and-“

Mistin smacked him with a pillow.

“I will not have that! Especially since our son had just been crying over people wanting binary star.”

Ray let’s out a chuckle, Mistin glares at him.

“Not funny, what if he wakes up and wonders over here? Perverted bastard..”

Mistin pouted as the blush was clear on their face. Ethan was a special little star in both Mistin, and Rays life’s.

But who knows….

When another one will come around….

End.

Who’s Ethan?

Mistin and Ray’s Son.

Will there be more upon the son?

Not sure yet….. ☕️

Byeeeee!✨

[atalante241]

About Genshin Impact and the technology of Teyvat

We get a kamera at the start of the game from Xu for the “Snapshot” world quest. In it Xu remarks that the kamera is a new invention from Fontaine.

Xu shows surprise at the Traveler knowing what it is, this supports the idea of the kamera being a new invention meaning it’s pricey and rare to have at this point. Later on, on the Traveler’s journey, we get quests to take pictures of things. This could mean that the kamera is becoming more widespread a time goes on, or just the knowledge of it.

During the 4.3 Fontinalia Festival the focus was placed of films. This was an attempt by the Fontaine Film Association to introduce films to the populace, making the main point of the festival the films produced for it.

This would give idea to films still being a new invention, as they aren’t widespread, just like how the kamera was at the start of the game which was about 3 years ago. And based off of Furina’s Character Demo “Furina: All the World’s a Stage” we can assume that the films recorded were black and white in quality. Unless, we assume that the mini-games during the 4.3 “Roses and Muskets” event were canonical in the way they showed the film quality. No noise was shown in either, but one was in color the other not.

This gives us an estimate of where — technological advancement vice — Teyvat is compared to our world. Films started becoming a thing at the end of the 1800s and start of the 1900s. Colored film started showing up around the 1930s, but became more accessible and profitable later on. Films started getting sound added to them around the mid-to-late 1920s. This gives us an estimate of around the start of the 1900s placement vice.

Now I’d like to bring up Khaenri'ah. It was heralded as “the pride of humanity” as said by Dainslief. Khaenri'ah has more than one notable scientific aspect linked to it, one of these being the “Field Tillers” aka Ruin Machines. Ruin Machines vary from “simple” Ruin Guards to a Ruin Serpent(s).

Ruin Machines seem to have been around for a while, since the Archon War even given the Ruin Hunter stored by Guizhong in a domain. This means that the technology may have been around for 1000s of years, likely being used as a defense method during the war and preserved thereafter. The knowledge of this technology didn’t spread much beyond Khaenri'ah, this showing through how the people of Teyvat started calling the Ruin Machines “Ruin Machines” after they spread globally after the Cataclysm.

Around Sumeru there exist three giant Ruin Machines called “Ruin Golems”. These were giant mecha style machines were piloted by a crew of people, and — get this — include a colored screen. By screen I mean the type of screen you’re viewing this through, footage from outside the Ruin Golem being broadcasted to the screen to allow the people piloting to see where they’re going or what they’re doing.

During the “Vimana Agama” world quest that was apart of the Aranyaka quest line we can go into the Ruin Golem in Devantaka Mountain by Port Ormos. There we can use the actual screen and see through it. This being a machine that has sat unused for hundreds of years. And its screen is still in working condition.

So, simply put. Khaenri'ah was very mechanically advanced.

BUT!

I have yet to mention the Terminal Viewfinders in Fontaine. You know, those eye ball machines you use to transfer energy to terminals in puzzles in the Fontaine Research Institute area. You know, the machines with working colored screens. Mind you this isn’t technology you’re able to find all through out Fontaine, only in certain areas usually accompanied by a researcher from the Institute. So it would be more comparable to machines found in laboratories and not accessible to common people.

But still. At the very least Fontaine is near the mechanical advancements of Khaenri'ah either a few hundred to thousands of years ago.

And I have yet to mention everything going on in King Deshret’s places in the Sumeru desert. And I’m not going to go into more than this mention because that is a headache I have yet to even get around to in game.

TL;DR Khaenri'ah was very technologically advanced to the point of hundreds of years later working colored screen technology. Fontaine is around that point with the Research Institute while normal day to day people are around silent movies in advancement, while I have no idea what’s going on with the Sumeru Desert.