#besides the name of the character mentioned

[loricciardo]

CHAPTER TWO | TOO SWEET

tags. original female character, jos verstappen, depictions of physical and verbal abuse in reference to max & jos, mild references to childhood loneliness and emotional isolation, mentions of of pressure and high expectations in youth sports, neglectful parenting.

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The next day, Max won the race. And Natalie tried not to be too disappointed about it.

Third place was still good, even if it wasn’t like the result she had yesterday. Natalie had gotten a decent start, stayed clean into the first corner, and fought like hell to keep up, but Max was just… faster. He flew out of corners like he was superman, and the kart was an extension to him. He didn’t fight the tires, they just listened to him.

Natalie’s didn’t. Hers slid and squealed and snapped through every tight chicane, almost sending her kart flying sideways.

Still, she smiled as she pulled off her helmet. Michael ruffled her sweaty hair as soon as she stepped into organization’s tent.

“You drove well,” he smiled simply.

And that was enough for her, even if she hadn’t necessarily won. Even if Mick had beaten her, too, finishing second and already grinning, acting like he already won the entire karting championship.

Her papa never ever measured her by which trophy she held. He looked at how she fought, how she learned, how she tried. He said that made someone a real driver.

But still… Natalie glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the scary man smiling and hugging Max after his win. But.. he wasn’t. He still looked furious.

She didn’t know why, and truthfully, she didn’t want to. Maybe she was still too shy from yesterday’s hotdog. Or maybe it was just the way that scary man, who she learned was Max’s father, hovered nearby, arms crossed, barking in Dutch at no one in particular. Max stood silently beside his kart, eyes on the ground, while the man paced and shouted like he was running the military.

Natalie’s brows pulled together. She didn’t get it at all. When she won yesterday, her papa picked her up off the ground. Told her he was proud. Ruffled her hair and lovingly kissed the top of her head.

Wasn’t that what winning was supposed to feel like? Wasn’t winning supposed to be celebrated?

Natalie was pulled out of her thoughts when her papa gently touched her back, nodding toward the podium marshal. “Come on Nat,” he winked. “You still earned a podium.”

At the podium, Max stood stiffly with his trophy while Mick gleefully sprayed pretend champagne at anyone within range. Then came the slow shuffle back toward the motorhomes, shoes scuffing against the gravel, the lively thrill already fading into dusk.

Natalie hung in the back on purpose.

She looked ahead and saw the scary man walking in front of Max, holding Max’s trophy like it was his. Max followed in silence, hands empty, head down. She felt her stomach twist again. She thought about saying something. But what exactly would she say? She didn’t even know if Max remembered her name.

So she just walked quietly alongside Mick, who was still chattering about his overtake on lap nine. But her eyes kept drifting, just slightly, to the small boy walking alone behind his father.

It was later, when most of the motorhomes were winding down for the evening, that she found herself outside again. Her socks half-damp from the grass, arms folded tightly over her oversized hoodie she had stolen from her papa.

Max was crouched near the edge of the lot again, fiddling with a stick and drawing shapes in the dirt.

She hesitated, but her papa always said to go where her gut told her on the track. Maybe it worked off the track, too. Therefore, she stepped closer.

Max didn’t flinch when he saw her this time. He just looked up from the dirt, squinting slightly.

“Hi,” she said, and Max curtly nodded once. “Sorry you didn’t get to keep your trophy,” she added with a grimace.

Max looked at the ground again. “He always keeps them.”

Natalie didn’t know what to say to that, so she sat down beside him again, legs folded under her, letting the silence stretch between them. That was, until she got a million dollar idea.

“Come with me,” Natalie smiled, brushing the damp grass off her shorts as she stood up. She glanced at Max, who looked hesitant. He wasn’t quite sure she had honestly been talking to him, but there was the faintest flicker of trust crossed his face when she waved him forward.

Max stood slowly and followed Natalie, his steps careful and quiet. They walked side by side through the maze of motorhomes and trailers, past tangled cables and scattered karting gear, until they reached Natalie’s own little home on wheels. The faded red trim on the trailer caught the ray of the dimly lit street lamp, and a hand painted Ferrari sticker, peeling at the edges, clung to the door.

A battered wooden bench rested beside the trailer, its legs sinking unevenly into the dirt. Natalie pointed to it. “You.. can sit. I will go get something.”

Max, without a word, eased himself onto the bench, folding his hands nervously in his lap. He itched his buzzed blonde hair, fingers lingering at the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. His shoulders were tense, hunched slightly. His blue eyes kept glancing toward the Verstappen motorhome every few seconds, like he was waiting for someone to call him back, or worse, catch him here.

Inside the trailer, the air was cool and smelled faintly of motor oil and worn leather. Her father was resting, headphones on, a karting manual open but forgotten on the table. She moved as quietly as she could, careful not to disturb him. Michael’s soft breathing was the only sound as she rummaged in a drawer until her fingers found the worn rubber band around a deck of playing cards, edges dog eared and bent from travel.

She clutched the deck and slipped back outside, trying not to trip on the steps. Max was still sitting where she left him, hands clasped tight in his lap.

She dropped down opposite him on the bench and spread the cards between them.

“Do you know how to play Go Fish?” she asked carefully, enunciating the words as best she could.

Max tilted his head. “Fish? Like… swimming?” He made a flicking motion with his hand, his mouth quirking into a shy grin.

Natalie chuckled. “No, no. Not water fish. Cards fish,” she pulled two matching cards from the deck and held them up.

“You look for the same,” she said simply.

“Ah,” Max nodded slowly. “Same cards.”

She dealt them each seven cards, the worn deck shuffling unevenly in her hands.

“You ask,” Natalie mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “’Do you have… five?’” Holding up the five of hearts.

Max looked at his cards, then at her. “Do you have… five?” His words came out slow, but clear.

“Yes! Very good!” She smiled wide, passing him the card.

Max’s grin grew a little, small but real, and he slipped the card into his hand.

They played like that for a while. Slowly, awkwardly, laughing at their mistakes. Natalie mixed English and German, Max added quiet bits of Dutch. They stumbled over numbers and words, but remarkably, the game unfolded smoothly, each card a small bridge between two worlds. Dutch, Natalie noticed, wasn’t so far from German after all! Some of the words sounded familiar. Echoes from home just spoken in a different rhythm. She understood just enough to keep up, and Max understood just enough to grin when she teased him for losing.

“Do you have… seven?” Max asked after a few turns, holding up his cards like a shield.

“No seven,” Natalie groaned. “Go fish, boy.”

He drew a card and his face lit up. “Lucky!”

“Very lucky,” Natalie giggled back, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Good game.”

Max stared at her hand for a long moment, then shook it with a quiet grin. “Good game,” he said again.

For the first time since arriving at the track, Natalie felt something that didn’t come from her father’s proud smile or Mick’s playful teasing. Max was different from those two. She hugged her knees tighter, watching the boy shuffle the cards slowly, his blue eyes fixed on the worn deck. She was used to being supported, having people in her corner. But it was rare to sit with someone her age who didn’t already know her, who wasn’t her brother or one of his friends. Someone who didn’t treat her like a Schumacher, just… Natalie.

After a pause, she spoke softly, “Your papa… he is… mad with you?”

Max’s hands stilled on the cards. He glanced up, startled by the question, then quickly looked away, eyes narrowing. “Why do you ask?”

Natalie bit her lip, hesitating. “I see him. At the track. He shouts at you.” Natalie looked down at her scuffed shoes.

Max sighed, leaning back against the bench and dropping the cards on his lap. “Yeah..,” he admitted quietly. “He shouts a lot.”

Natalie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But my papa never yells at me like that. He says I am strong, no matter what. He tells me he is proud.”

Max looked at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Your papa… he doesn’t get mad?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “Even when I make mistakes, he smiles. He says I am learning. That I will be better next time.”

Max’s lips pressed together, and for a moment he stared at the ground. “That’s… nice.”

Natalie nodded slowly, her green eyes thoughtful. “Why does your papa yell then? Does he not love you?”

Max shrugged, picking at a splinter in the wood. “He loves me. But… he thinks love is making me better by pushing me harder. If I don’t win… he’s angry. Says I need to be perfect.”

Natalie looked down. “My papa says I don’t have to be perfect to be loved. That being myself is enough.”

Max gave a small, bitter laugh. “It… I… Sometimes, I think he cares more about winning than about me.”

Natalie reached out tentatively, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “That… doesn’t sound like love. To me, at least.”

Max looked at her, surprised. Silence stretched between them.

Then he asked quietly, “Your papa… you are sure he is proud of you?”

Natalie shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yes. Always. Even when I’m not the fastest or the best. He says I make him proud just by trying.”

Max frowned, looking almost jealous. “That sounds like a really good papa.”

Before she could say more, a sharp voice cut through the quiet.

“Max!”

They both jumped, startled like dogs caught sneaking food off the dinner table. Jos Verstappen stood just a few feet away, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders tense beneath the weight of barely contained fury. His stance was sharp. Rooted, unmovable, like a warning sign in human form. The late night light cut across his face, casting half of it in shadow and making the glare in his eyes burn even colder.

Max’s smile disappeared. He stood up quickly, knocking over the cards from his lap.

Jos stormed over, speaking quickly in Dutch, his tone harsh and commanding.

Natalie caught only a few words. And Schumacher was one among them. She felt her heart tighten, the sound of her last name spat like an insult. The rest of the sentence blurred past her, sharp consonants and vowels tumbling too fast for her to understand, but the intention was clear. Jos’ voice was like gravel; low, cold, hurtful.

She wasn’t used to that kind of anger. Not ever directed at her, especially from a parent of a teammate.

Her papa never raised his voice like that. He didn’t get in her face or bark orders like she was something that needed fixing. So she stood there frozen, unsure what she’d done to make this scary man look at her like that.

Natalie didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Just the sound of Max shifting nervously beside her, his shoulders curling inward, trying to shrink himself small enough to disappear.

Jos switched to English, his voice cutting through the quiet like a snapped branch.

“You,” he spat, jabbing a finger in Natalie’s direction. “Don’t you ever talk to my son again.”

Natalie blinked, startled. “What?” she asked, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

Jos didn’t look confused, but rather he looked furious. Cold and sure of himself in that terrifying, know it all, grown-up way that made Natalie feel suddenly very small.

“You heard me,” Jos deadpanned. “I don’t want you near him.”

Max had gone still beside the bench, shoulders tensed, eyes flicking between his father and Natalie like he didn’t know what to do. But only that he couldn’t do anything.

Natalie stood up slowly, the bench creaking behind her, and instinctively took a step back from Jos. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves.

“I’m so sorry sir,” she spoke quietly, voice small but steady. “We were just playing.”

Jos scoffed like the idea was laughable. “You think this is a game?” he snapped. “You race against my son. You don’t get to be ‘just playing’ with him.”

Natalie blinked again, confused. “But.. why does that matter?”

Jos leaned in closer, and even though she held her ground, every part of her wanted to run. “Because your name is a problem,” he frowned. “Your father is soft. He tells the press how proud he is of you when you lose. You really think that teaches anything? You’re a pathetic girl in this sport, paraded around like she’s earned it. When it’s just your name doing all the heavy lifting.” His voice was sharper now, slicing through the young girl like ice. “And I will not have Max around that.”

The words landed like stones in her chest. She didn’t understand all of what Jos had meant, but the cruelty in his voice was clear.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Max shift his weight like he might speak, but he didn’t. He didn’t even lift his head.

“You’re not to speak to him again,” Jos informed, straightening. “Not at the track. And especially not afterwards. Nowhere.” His gaze swept to Max. “You. Let’s go.”

Max didn’t move right away. Then, without a word, he turned with his shoulders still hunched. He followed after his father, eyes fixed on the gravel.

He did not give Natalie a goodbye. No backward glance. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Natalie stood in the silence they left behind, the sound of the wind gently rattling through the trees and tents. The cards that had been in Max’s lap were now scattered across the grass, some of them face down in the dirt, others turned upward like they were still waiting for the next move. One fluttered a few inches farther with the breeze, then settled near her feet, its edges bent.

Natalie’s hands were clenched at her sides, jaw tight, but she didn’t understand why. She’d done nothing wrong, in fact, she was only but kind to Max. And honestly, the only one who was kind to Max.

The other kids at the karting track whispered behind his back sneered when Max passed by, calling him weird, quiet, even scary. They kept their distance, wary of the boy who rarely spoke and whose sharp blue eyes seemed to look right through them. But Natalie saw something different. She saw someone who needed a friend. Someone who deserved better. Yet now, standing alone as they walked away, she wondered if her kindness was worth what had just happened.

She didn’t know what to call what Max’s father had said. But she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t love.

And for the first time, something bitter and unfamiliar bloomed in her chest. Not because she had been yelled at by Jos, but for the little boy who hadn’t even looked back.

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[a99jazzybean]

so i just read you DateEverythingChanse! X Reader and fell in LOVE. it was sooo so good and genuinely one of the best Date Eveything pieces that I’ve read!

And since your request were open; could you write some Eddie Volt x Reader. And maybe pull some of Volt in there?

(This is my first time requesting anything on tumblr, so idk what more info you would need.)

-🐄

Oh I really enjoyed this one! I love, love, love Eddie! Thank you for the request!

An Old Fashioned for the Live Wire

synop: You were just hired as a new bartender for the Breaker Box. One of your bosses, Eddie is kind of an asshole, but part of you also kind of likes it. The two of you push and pull at each other, but when will it become too much? And should you even go after someone like him?

words: 7.4K

includes: eddiexfem!reader, age difference, boss/employee, drinking, choking, manhandling, smut, oral, dead parent mention.

a/n: This one is a bit on the tabooer side. Hope you enjoy! No minors!

Also, Volt will be getting his flowers too. Don't you worry your pretty heads.

Harsh summer sun beat against you as you made your way downtown. A job interview that you pretty much had in the bag was awaiting you at your destination. Just a few more blocks and the beginnings of a facial sunburn, you found yourself in front of a bar. Beside the door a familiar face stood tall. 

“Uncle Dorian!” You exclaim, running to embrace him. 

He gave an “oomph” of surprise followed by a deep chuckle before returning the embrace. 

“Thank you so much for this!” Chin on his chest, you looked up at him. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m always lookin’ out for you.” 

Pulling away, you smoothed down your dress. Dorian nodded at you and proceeded to open the door to the bar. 

Much to your chagrin, it was very hot and stuffy inside. Looking up you could see an AC unit, but it wasn’t running. You gave Dorian a confused look, and he sighed. 

“I can’t believe this place always keeps falling apart.”

“Oh same old Dorian, not understanding the character that is the Breaker Box.” A man with long stark white hair made his way over to you. 

“More like Broken Box…” You mumbled, earning a laugh from Dorian.  

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that. Considering our dear Dorian gave you quite the glowing review.” 

Your face grew red with embarrassment. This man was obviously one of the owners of the establishment. 

“I apologize. That was rude of me. May we start over?” You offered your hand and an apologetic look. 

“Oh I could never say ‘no’ to a face like yours.” He takes your hand and gives it a kiss. A spark sends shivers up your spine. 

“The name is Volt.”

From behind you comes a grumble. Dorian’s expression now formed into a stony one. He briskly walks up between you and Volt. 

“Now, I don’t want any funny business. My girl needs a job, that’s all.” He said lowly. 

Volt raises his hands in defense. 

“Apologies, Dorian. I did not mean to be so forward. There will be no funny business, I swear.” He gives you a wink. 

Across the bar you hear a scoff. You can’t make out where the sound came from till a head pops out from under the bar. 

A tanned man with shaggy dark hair appears, looking perturbed. His steely gaze moves between Volt and Dorian, then lands on you. You grow self-conscious, feeling as though you were being studied. Part of you wondered what he saw. 

“Ah! Eddie! How lovely of you to join us!” Volt looped an arm around your shoulder, ushering you to the bar. “This is…” He paused for you to give your name.

You said your name, offering out your hand over the bar. Eddie looked down at your hand, then back at your eyes. Raising his hands, you realized they were covered in grease. 

“Such a lovely name. She’ll be our new bartender.” Volt squeezed your body toward him, making you squeak. 

“Wait, I’ve got the job?” You were surprised, this was supposed to be an interview. 

“Of course, like I said, you received a glowing review. And we could do with someone like you around.” He released you from his hold, giving you a sultry once-over. 

“You’re hiring her without an interview?” Eddie asked gruffly. While it was a question, he seemed unsurprised at Volt’s decision. 

“ I must take my leave, now.” Ignoring the question, he gave you a curt nod before turning on his heel and striding up to Dorian. 

Over his shoulder Volt left a final remark.

“Oh, and Eddie, since you’re not busy, you can train her before tonight.”

Eddie let out an incredulous scoff, a look of disbelief on his face. His dark gaze flitted to you, to which you shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t ask for this either, and honestly would prefer otherwise. Being trained by a man that clearly held disdain for your existence didn’t seem like the grandest of times. 

“Not, busy…” He mumbled, before grabbing a towel. 

“Don’t worry, I should be good. You can continue with whatever you were doing.” You tried to ease the tension coming from him.

“Nice try, sweetheart. But you will be working.”

“I never said I wasn’t, you were just clearly in the middle of something.” 

“I know a person trying to get out of work when I see em’.” That coldness in his eyes sent an icy chill through you. 

“If you say so…” You pouted. 

Eddie washed his hands, grumbling to himself the entire time. The last thing he wanted to do was babysit the new girl. Even if you were attractive. Wait, what was that? The man gave you a once-over. Taking in your pretty face and curves. Yeah, you were quite the looker, but that was beside the point. You were also clearly used to having everything handed to you. Dorian helped you get the job, and Volt gladly gave into it because of your looks. Tale as old as time. Hopefully you were at least competent at learning the ropes. 

“Alright, let’s teach you some of the basics.” 

From behind the bar he pulled out a shaker and jigger, pointedly setting them down on the counter. It almost made you roll your eyes, but you decided to play along. See how far this would go. 

“Do you have any bartending experience? And I’m not talking about making yourself a gin and tonic, I mean actual experience.” He spoke to you gruffly.

Wow, he was kind of an asshole. Regardless, this could be entertaining. Lord knows you needed something interesting to handle. 

“Sweetheart, I’m headin’ out.” Dorian walked up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Okay! Eddie is gonna teach me the basics of bartending!” You said, a sickly sweet smile on your face. 

Dorian gave you a confused look, opening his mouth to say something, then catching the look in your eyes. Deciding instead to keep his mouth shut. 

“I hope that goes well. Don’t cause too much trouble.” He planted a kiss on your cheek and you returned one to his before he headed out of the bar.

“Looks like it’s just us now.” Eddie sighed out. 

Gazing around the club, you realized Volt had vanished. Likely in a different room, leaving you alone with a man who did not want to be here. Whatever, you would just trudge on through this “training”. 

“Show me what you got.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. Face watching him expectantly. 

“Right, one of our more popular drinks is a Moscow Mule.” He spoke patronizingly to you. Now, that did irritate you. 

He spotted that irritation as your eyebrow twitched. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked. 

“Everything is perfectly fine. Please, continue.” You waved at him to keep going. “Though I do know what a Moscow Mule is, and how to make it.” 

“Good for you.” He said sarcastically.

“What’s your problem, man?” Alright, this was getting a bit TOO annoying. 

“I don’t have a problem.” He said quickly, a calculated gaze steady on you.

“Clearly, you do. Despite the fact that we just met, you have some issue with me.” Your jaw clenched in frustration.

“I don’t have any issues with you.” The statement was somewhat true, but there was something he wasn’t saying. “I just prefer that Volt not hire a nepo baby without consulting me as well.” 

“Nepo baby?” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, Dorian got you the job. You didn’t even need an interview for it. Therefore, nepo baby.”

“Dorian helped me find the job, my skills ultimately got me the position.” You jabbed a finger in his face with a snarl. 

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes at you. 

Grumbling, you made your way behind the bar. 

“Ugh, whatever…” 

Standing very very close to the man. With a wave of your hand you motioned for him to continue. A glare emblazoned on your face, complimented by a cute pout. Eddie’s eyes flitted to your stuck out lip, then back to your eyes. Thankfully, you hadn’t noticed the involuntary action. 

“Well, are you going to show me how to make a Moscow Mule or not?” You pressed, poking him in the arm with a harsh jab.

“Hey! Jeez, let me get to it.” 

I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here… His mind droned on. 

The man took out a copper mug, then quickly poured vodka, and lime, adding ginger beer in the end. With a little flare, he put a mint garnish on the side.

“Voila.” 

You gave faux applause, lips pressed into a thin smile.

“How impressive.”

“Look, I said I’m showing you the basics.” He sighed.

“And you’re doing a wonderful job.” You said through gritted teeth. 

“And it looks like I won’t have to continue anymore.” Eddie let out a sigh of relief. 

Entering the front door was a woman with bright ginger hair. When she looked over to the bar, a bright smile lit up her face. 

“Oh finally! Volt said he had hired a new person!” The woman strode over, offering her hand over the bar. “Name’s Beverly, but you can call me Bev!” 

You took her hand, giving it a nice firm shake. Taking the time to give her your name as well.

“Pretty! Well, I can’t wait to work with you!”

“Lucky for you, that starts now.” Eddie said, waving you two off and walking toward the back of the club.

When you could no longer hear his footsteps, you turned to Beverly. Frustration knitting at your brows. 

“What the fuck is that guy’s problem?” You asked, exasperated.

“Eddie?” She bit her lip. “He’s a bit closed off, I’d say.” 

“Doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Oh, Volt didn’t talk to him about you, did he?” 

“From what I could tell, no. Then Volt left me in the man’s care.” 

Beverly let out a low hiss, her face cringing at the awkward scenario you just shared. 

“Well, you’re with me now! So we can enjoy our time getting to know each other, and I can teach you the ropes.” 

“I only need to learn how to use the register.” You said bluntly.

“Really? Cause I overheard Eddie about the basic-” You cut her off.

“I was only amusing myself with that. I’m a fairly good mixologist.” 

“Is that so?” She seemed unconvinced. “Why don’t you show me what you got?”

“Sure thing, whatcha thinking?”

Tapping her chin, she tried thinking up some drinks to have you make. After a moment, she perked back up with a smile.

“Alright, I’ve got three. Gin Sour, Paper Plane, and Sazerac. Think you can handle those?” 

“As long as you’ve got the ingredients, I can make them.” You cracked your knuckles, preparing yourself. 

“I also want you to make them as fast as possible.” 

You bit your lip with worry. That gin sour she requested would take a bit, but you had a feeling she knew that. Regardless, you would do your best. 

Bev gave you free reign of the bar. In the fridge you found a carton of egg whites along with fresh lemons. Into a shaker you added the ingredients, then began the semi-long process of dry shaking. Shaking something for a max of twenty-seconds might not seem like a large task, but if you had a dozen other orders, it could cause issues. Still, in order to make the drink properly, you had to follow the proper steps. Eventually you poured the drink out, even adding a lemon peel as garnish. 

Pushing the drink to Bev, she grabbed it and took a sip. A content smile on her face.

“Good, now the Paper Plane.”

Spotting the Aperol, you plucked that from a shelf. As you made your way around the other liquors, you kept your eye out for paper or a napkin. Out of the corner of your eye you noted some sticky notes. Bingo. 

Quickly you added all of the ingredients into the shaker and went to work. Straining the drink out into a coupe glass, then quickly making a paper plane out of a sticky note for garnish. 

Bev took the drink, grabbing the plane and throwing it in your direction. It spun in the air before nose diving straight down. Both of you chuckled at the sad display. Bev had a sip, nodding and looking at you.

“Pretty good, but ease up on the lemon a bit.” You nodded, noting her advice for later. 

“Alright, time for the Sazerac.”

You grabbed an Old Fashioned glass, then searched for some Absinthe. Trailing over the liquor bottles you couldn’t see it. Trying other cabinets, you couldn’t find any there either. You gave Bev a confused look.

“Where’s the Absinthe?” 

“Oh, we don’t typically carry it.”

“Really? But you guys specialize in craft cocktails?” 

She shrugged her shoulders then waved you on to continue. Turning back to the liquor bottles, your eyes landed on one that could work. Plucking the Herbsaint from the back, you spotted Bev giving a slight nod. You gave the glass a good wash, then moved onto crafting the rest of the drink. Stirring cognac, simple syrup, and bitters together. 

Again, Bev tried your drink. A pleased smile on her face after she set it down. 

“Very good.” From behind her, she pulled out a bottle of Absinthe. An amused smirk on her face at the reveal.

“You were testing me.” You chuckled.

“I certainly was, and you certainly passed. You really were pulling on Eddie's leg.” 

You shrugged.

“Guilty.” 

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Beverly paused, letting out a long sigh. “He’s got a lot on his plate.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for opening. Cutting lemons, and dumping ice. Beverly showed you how the register worked, and you were good to go for the night. 

As it was the middle of the week, you weren’t expecting a large crowd. Though you wouldn’t be facing the busiest time of the night since you started your shift early. You felt a little bad leaving Bev alone, but you were feeling exhausted. 

The end of your shift neared closer, and a familiar face returned to the front of house. You could see grease stains on his clothes. Eddie plopped himself down at the bar, watching you and Bev converse during a lull period. Clearing his throat, he caught your attention. Beverly waltzed over to him with a smile.

“Eddie! What can I getcha?” She said cheerily.

“Actually, could I get the new girl to make it?”

You and Bev shared a knowing look. 

“Sure thing, think you can handle it?” There was a slight teasing to her tone, you did your best not to smirk. Instead nodding.

“Of course.” You walked up to Eddie, face scrunching as you saw the state he was in. 

Extremely disheveled, sweaty, and fairly dirty. You wondered what exactly he was doing that brought him to look like this. 

“What will you have?” You asked.

He gave you a questioning look. Wondering why you were suddenly so confident. 

“I’ll take an Old Fashioned.” 

Grabbing a mixing glass, you plopped a sugar cube inside, followed by the other drink ingredients. You made sure to stir everything well. You poured it over a glass with a large ice cube in it, then slid it over to him. Turning around, you made yourself your own. 

Eddie waited till you were finished, head cocked in confusion. You returned to him, drink in hand. Then you offered your glass out to him, an amused look on your face. Eddie realized what you had done. 

“I see. Do you always like to play dumb?” He let out an airy chuckle, raising his glass to yours. 

“Only to  people who see me as dumb.” You clinked your glass against his and took a sip. 

Eddie followed, letting out a pleased hum at the taste of the drink. 

“I see why Volt didn’t need to interview you.” He pulled your glass out of your hand. “But that doesn’t mean you get to drink on the job.” 

You pulled the drink back.

“I’m off the clock now, and I get a free drink with the job.” You took another sip.

Walking around the bar, you sat beside the man. 

“Think I’m just a nepo baby now?”

He waved his hand in a “maybe” motion, to which you scoffed at.

“Dorian still did have some sway in Volt’s decision. He does provide us with our bouncers, after all.” 

Rolling your eyes, you finished your drink. 

“I’ll admit, Dorian was a foot in… well, the door. However, I still put the work in. He would never vouch for me if he wasn’t sure of it.”

Eddie shrugged and nodded.

“I suppose, but I know he’s sweet on you.” 

“Ugh, don’t make it sound like he’s in love with me.” You scrunched your face up in disgust. “He’s my father. Adoptive father.” 

“Adoptive father that you call, ‘uncle’?” 

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a long story.”

“Fair enough.” 

That took you aback. People tended to be a bit more curious about your relationship with Dorian. The fact that Eddie just left the conversation as is had made you a bit irritated. Eye twitching before you shook your head. 

“Whatever.” You lifted yourself off the bar with a groan. “Well, I’m heading out. Have a goodnight, Bev!” You waved, and walked away. Paying no mind to Eddie. 

He watched as you left, eyes drawn to the sway of your hips as you headed out of the club. Finding himself a bit transfixed to the way your body moved.

“Smooth, Casanova.” Bev said as she dried glasses.

Eddie gave her a confused look, pointing at himself. She nodded, then motioned her head to the door. 

“I’m not into a brat seven years my junior.” He said, finishing his drink.

At that, Beverly raised a brow. 

“Sure, hon.” 

The next shift, you came in at a much later time. Entering the club, you greeted Beverly with a wave. Volt was present for your arrival. Once again, upping the charm as he greeted. 

“How lovely to see you.”

“I work here now, it’s kind of expected.” You shrugged.

You heard a scoff from the stage. Crouched behind one of the speakers, Eddie was working with some wires within it. 

“I can leave, let you guys deal with your one bartender.” You threatened, making Volt audibly gulp.

“Now, let’s not be too rash.” He glared over at Eddie. “He just hasn’t gotten enough rest, have you?” Eddie matched his glare.

“I’ve gotten plenty.” He turned back to the speaker. 

“Whatever.” You said, turning to the bar. 

The rest of the night was uneventful. The Breaker Box had a one man band crooning like Elvis Presley for the live entertainment. While he certainly wasn’t the best, it was at least somewhat entertaining to watch on the slow night. 

As you worked the bar, you couldn’t help but feel as if there were eyes on you. Every time you looked around, you couldn’t spot who it was that would be making you feel that way. There was a sneaking part of you that believed your dark haired asshole of a boss might have something to do with it. Occasionally catching his face just turning away as your eyes scanned the bar. He appeared to be working on some small electrical panel in the back corner of the room.

The night winded down, and Eddie left his work to come up to the bar. You made him the Jack and Coke he requested, sliding it to a very disheveled looking man when you were done. Seemed like going ragged was a common occurrence for Eddie. 

“So what exactly is your job here? Besides telling me what to do.” You asked as you wiped down the bar in front of him.

“I fix things.” His cold stare looked at you over the glass.

“That’s it?” 

He slugged back the rest of his drink and sighed. 

“Yes, that’s it. Any more questions, sweetheart?” He asked sarcastically.

“No, I’m not too curious about your going ons.” You turned away from him, smirking as you heard him grumble.

“You know what, I’ll have you stay after close. I’ve got something I need help with.” He said lowly.

“What?” You whipped around to face him.

“You. Stay. After. Close. Kapeesh?” 

“My shift is over after two.” 

“And I have the ability to fire you.” 

Clenching your fists, you willed yourself to calm the angry energy growing within you.

“Fine.” You hissed. 

Eddie gave you a smug smirk, nodding at your response with approval. When he turned his back, you stuck your tongue out at him. While you were annoyed at him for making you stay late, there was an odd curious part of you buzzing. 

Perhaps you needed to admit it to yourself. Even though you barely knew the guy, Eddie was hot. And maybe there was another part of you that enjoyed the push and pull you had already developed with the man. Something that made you feel like a school girl kicking her feet and twirling her hair. 

Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts away. No, you shouldn’t think of your boss like that. While it wasn’t technically illegal, he was fairly older than you. Not to mention the inherent power imbalance of him being your boss. Yeah, this one would just have to remain a taboo fantasy. 

Closing time came, and Beverly left you with a wave goodbye. Volt also made his way out of the building. Before leaving he spotted you waiting at the bar.

“Do you need someone to take you home?” He gave you a concerned look.

“Nah, Eddie asked me to stay after close to help him with something.” 

“Is that so?” Volt looked over at the spot Eddie was sitting at, narrowing his eyes at the man. 

“Yeah. Not ideal, but he is my boss too.” 

“I suppose.” Volt shrugged on his long coat. “Don’t stay too late.” 

“You got it!” You saluted Volt, who smiled politely at the action. 

Now you were alone with Eddie. Thick tension was growing in the air around you. Making your way from behind the bar, you walked up to Eddie. He was still working on the electrical panel. Eyeing you up and down, he waved at you to take the seat in front of him. 

It felt like forever before he finally spoke as you were left twiddling your thumbs in awkward silence. 

“I’m almost done.” He said gruffly.

“Cool, cause I’d like to go home soon.”

“I’m sure you do.” He didn’t look at you.

“Whatever.” You huffed.

The man stopped what he was doing, setting the panel and tools down. He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“You do that quite often.”

“What?” You were confused.

“‘Whatever’. You say it whenever you wish to push past an uncomfortable conversation.” 

“What are you, a therapist?” 

“More like an observer.” He shrugged nonchalantly and returned to his work. 

“Perhaps you could observe the fact that I am exhausted.” You grumbled.

“Noted.” 

“Ugh, whatever.” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the words.

“There it is again.” He chuckled lowly. The sound shooting straight to your groin.

“Do you really need my help tonight, or did you just keep me to hold me hostage in a nonexistent conversation?” 

“I do need help, but I think you can have just a bit more patience.” He pinched his fingers together to emphasize his point. 

“Just tell me what I need to do to get the job done.”

He looked up at you, but didn’t give an answer. You grumbled again, huffing and crossing your arms. This man! 

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Eddie seemed to be pleased with the progress he had made on the panel. Pushing up from the table, he stretched out. Cracking his back and revealing the lower part of his stomach. A dark line of a happy trail peeking out. Quickly you averted your eyes, but not before Eddie caught you. He decided to keep it to himself though, only revealing his thoughts with a coy smirk that had your face burning. 

“Alright, let’s get some bulbs changed out.”

He walked over to a storage closet, pulling out a very rickety looking ladder. 

“See why I need help?”

“Someone to hold the death trap that looks like a ladder?” Your eyes widened with concern.

“Oh, no. I won’t be stepping on this thing.” He chuckled watching your face drop. “I’ll be the one holding it.”

“Like that makes me feel better.” 

“Let’s just get this done, live wire.” He smirked again. 

He walked over to the stage, setting the ladder up. Holding it down, he motioned for you to come over and climb. Looking over yourself, you realized you were wearing a dress, and only had your panties on underneath. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to be the one that climbs?” You did your best to act sweetly, batting your lashes at him.

“I already told you, I’m holding. Now, c’mon. The faster you get up there, the faster this gets done. 

“It’s just, I’m wearing a dress.” You clenched the fabric in your hands nervously. “So?”

“So, you’d be able to see up it!” Your face turned red.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not lookin’.” For emphasis, he faced down. Dark hair flopping with his head. “Don’t forget to grab the bulbs.”

Tapping your foot in irritation, you gave a grunt of defeat. You leaned down to grab a box of bulbs. 

“Fine.” You walked up to the ladder. “You better keep your head down.”

“As you wish.” 

Rolling your eyes, you began your ascent up the ladder. Praying the man beneath you would not look up. When you made it to the top, you reached up. Thankfully the bulb in the light wasn’t too far away. You unscrewed the bulb, but as you were pulling it out of the fixture a small spark hit your hand.

“Fuck!” You yelped. 

From below, Eddie looked up just in time. Seeing you wobble and fall off of the ladder. Quickly, he managed to catch you with a grunt. In his arms you stared at him, wide eyed.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out in relief that he caught you.

Slowly you nodded, then looked at your hand. Your pointer finger turning red with a burn. 

“Shit. Did you get shocked?”

“I think so.” 

“Fuck, the lights aren’t supposed to be hot. I swear to god if the wiring was messed with again…” He paused, realizing that you were still in his arms and injured. 

Slowly, he let you down to your feet. Then he grabbed your hand to inspect it. It looked like it was just your finger that was injured. He sucked back an annoyed groan. This wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of the OSHA violating idiots that had owned the place before he and Volt took it over. And now those issues had injured someone. If Dorian found out…

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly. The tender tone of your voice catching him off guard.

“Uh, yeah. The most I did was pull my back.” He stretched his arms up. “Better than having you break yours though.” 

“Yeah.” You were staring at him awestruck. Perhaps saving you was the bare minimum, but the action had you smitten regardless. 

“You good?” He was concerned at the look on your face. Did you get fully shocked?

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” Shaking your head you pushed the thoughts of him away. 

“Good, good. Let’s get you patched up and heading home.” 

Eddie grabbed hold of your unharmed hand, sending a shock through you. Oh no. He pulled you to the back office. Rummaging around, he managed to find the first aid kit. Inside he spotted some burn cream and bandages. He took your finger, spreading some cream around the burn. A cooling sensation hit the spot immediately, making you sigh. Tenderly, he wrapped a bandage around your finger. Making sure it wasn’t too tight. When he was done he brought it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss. An unconscious movement, as if it was something he needed to do.

The action made your face flare red. Eddie’s cheeks became ruddy as well. Unsure of why he did that. 

Looking up at you had his face flushing harder. 

“Uh, a kiss makes it better. Right?” He tried to deflect. 

“I-I guess.” Shaking your head, you narrowed your eyes, questioning his motives. “It’s just not something that I would expect from a guy who’s been an asshole to me.”

“Asshole?” He let out an airy chuckle.

“Yes, asshole.”

“Newsflash, live wire; you’re no angel either.”

“Whatever.” You grumbled.

“See! You and your ‘whatevers’.” 

“I don’t understand why it’s a problem.” You practically spat. 

“Frankly, it’s a bit disrespectful.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I guess I should respect my elders, shouldn’t I?” You said sarcastically.

He yanked you toward him, nose to nose. You hadn’t realized he still had a grip on your hand.

“Yeah, a brat like you should.” He practically growled. 

The close proximity had your face flushing again. Unconsciously, your thighs clenched. Eddie smirked at the action. Licking his lips as he looked back at you. Your eyes were wide, body shivering at the close proximity. You attempted to regain your composure.

“I-I’m not a brat.”

“Of course you would think that. You’ve gotten everything handed to you. Bet you think you deserve it all.” 

You scowled, lip in a pout. One that Eddie realized he desperately wanted to kiss and bite. Fuck, this was… electrifying. Something he hadn’t experienced in years. Was it wrong to go after his subordinate? Maybe. Did he want to? Absolutely.

“I said, I’m not a brat.” You tried yanking your arm back. 

Eddie tutted, keeping you locked with him.

“WHATEVER, princess. I’m sure you can go run off to uncle Dorian and be treated just right.”

 Looking at your eyes, he realized he might have gone too far. He let go of your hand, which you snatched back. Rubbing your wrist you turned away. You blinked away tears. 

You didn’t know why, but his words hurt.  

“I’m going home.” You said quietly. 

Oh shit. He knew he fucked up.

“The only reason Dorian treats me the way he does is because my dad is dead.” You still were faced away from Eddie.

“I didn’t…”

“I know.” You peeked over your shoulder at him. “But now you do.” 

You exited the office quickly, not turning back once. Eddie was left alone and miserable. Why did he feel the need to press you so much? He barely even knew you. And now, it’s likely he fucked up a good thing. 

You and Eddie avoided each other the next week. You couldn’t tell if you preferred that or not. Whenever you would cross paths, he’d do his best to exit the area as quickly as possible. You would do your best to make yourself invisible. Eventually, you couldn’t stand it though. 

The distance somehow made the man more enticing. Perhaps it was the fact that he gave you the space you clearly needed, or maybe it was something else entirely. 

While your last conversation with him hurt, you couldn’t get the man out of your mind. Was it inappropriate? Probably. Did you care? Not really. The moments before your outburst in the office had made you feel… things. Things you wished to explore further. Specifically with your boss. So after multiple days of avoidance, you decided to fuck with him.

It was a fairly busy shift, so you decided to have some fun. Popping one button of your shirt to give just a peek of your cleavage. With your patrons, you put on a bit of a show. Flirting with everyone. Making sure everyone got a good look at you. Complimenting whoever you could, making them blush at your words. Even teasing about giving your number out. 

Out of the corner of your eye you watched as Eddie made his way closer and closer to the bar throughout the night. When he reached you, he spoke lowly. Jaw clenched in frustration. Exactly what you wanted. 

“You’re staying after close. I’ll meet you in the office.” 

“As you wish, sir.” You said, your eyes growing dark. The look made Eddie shiver. 

He shouldn’t, but fuck, you were making it so difficult. He should have just continued to give you space, but he couldn’t help feel the same pull that you did. Something so enticing, all he needed was a taste. Just one, that’s all…

Eventually, the bar closed. You told Volt and Bev that you were asked to stay late again. While Bev paid no mind to it, Volt had given you a questioning look. Bright eyes trying to read you. When it seemed he couldn’t get a read, he shrugged his shoulders and headed home. 

When it was just you, you geared yourself up for your confrontation.

Making your way to the office, you shook off your nerves. Reaching the door, you gave two knocks. A muffled voice called out from the other side.

“Come in.” 

Behind the desk sat Eddie, his head perched on one hand. Eyes dark as he watched you enter the room. When you shut the door behind you, the man motioned for you to sit in front of him. He was trying to maintain a neutral expression, but you could see the tension in his jaw. Teeth clenched together in frustration.

“Did you have a good night?” He asked lowly. 

The way his gaze remained on you had you shuffling uncomfortably. Looking up, you gave him your best naive expression.

“I did, yes. Why do you ask?” 

“Do you think your behavior was appropriate for this establishment?” While his words maintained an air of professionalism, he practically growled them out.

“I don’t know what you mean? I was just being friendly with patrons.” You gave him a sweet smile, a knowing glint behind your eyes. “I apologize if anything came off as misconstrued.” 

“Oh come off it.” He scoffed, pressing his hands on the table and pushing himself up. He walked around the desk to you. Leaning against it, eyes steely and cold. 

“Again, I don’t know what you mean.” You batted your lashes at him, earning you another scoff.

He leaned down, hand reaching for your chin. Lifting your face to look directly at him, you had to swallow down a gasp.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you acting like a whore.” 

Sputtering at his words, you batted his hand away. You stood up, glowering at him. 

“Is that better or worse than a brat? Cause I think it shouldn’t matter how I act.” You huffed. “It’s a bar, decorum isn’t exactly a prerequisite to work here.”

His jaw clenched again. His eyes darted to the door, then he moved to turn the lock on the knob. The action made your eyes widen and heart race. 

Turning to you, he stalked up. Face now almost nose to nose with you.

“Do you want to know what I think?” The low timbre of his voice had you shivering. 

When you didn’t answer, he chuckled lowly. His hand returning to your chin, forcing you to face him. 

“Well?”

“W-what do you think?” You stuttered out, eyes locked with his.

“I think you need to be put in your place.” His hand moved to your throat, lightly squeezing the sides. 

He pulled you even closer, lips barely grazing yours. Sparks flew through you at the soft touch. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” He murmured against your lips. 

Taking the opportunity, you pressed your lips against his. A low groan escaped the man as he pressed his lips against yours, taking back control. His tongue pressed into your mouth, making you whimper. He tasted like whiskey. Hot, heady, and fucking delicious. 

Pulling away, he left his hand around your throat. A handsome smirk on his face as he took in your state. Disheveled, breathing hard, with your pupils blown wide out. Oh, he could get used to seeing you like this. 

Using the leverage on your neck, he maneuvered you back onto the desk. Placing himself between your legs, he pulled you in for another kiss. 

When he pulled away again, you managed to find your words.

“W-what…” You took in a shaky breath. “What exactly is my place?”

Nipping your lip, he groaned. 

“With me, as mine.” He looked over you possessively. “Say it.” 

Your face burned bright red, you almost shook your head. The look in his eyes had you deciding otherwise. 

“I’m yours.”

“Good.” 

With that, he pressed his lips against yours again. You whimpered into his mouth as his tongue tangled with yours once more. Oh, this was dangerously addicting. 

Clenching your thighs together, you tried to gain some friction. You could feel how wet you already were, and how you were burning with need.

Against your lips, you felt him smirk. A warm hand reached for one of your thighs, spreading it apart. He slowly trailed his hand up your thigh, making you shiver. Up your skirt his fingers reached your drenched panties. Hips jolting, you moaned against him. 

He groaned at the feeling, slipping his fingers under the fabric to gather some of your slick. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he held back a whimper at your taste. The dark gaze in his eyes had you shivering again. 

“You’re soaked. You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”

Embarrassed, you looked away and nodded. The hand around your throat gave a warning squeeze.

“No, tell me.”

“I’ve wanted this.” You breathed out.

“Prove it.”

Letting go of your throat, Eddie reached for the belt on his pants. Easily sliding it off and dropping it to the floor. Following his hands, your eyes widened at the very prominent bulge in his pants. Licking your lips, you clenched your thighs again.

He unbuttoned his pants, sliding them past his thighs. His boxers followed shortly afterward. His cock sprung out, a bead of precum at the tip. Oh, he was very large. A nice length with a lovely curve that you could already imagine inside you. 

“On your knees.” He commanded, to which you obliged. 

Shakily you slid off of the desk, and onto the hard floor of the office. His cock just inches from your face. Mouth watering, you gazed up at him. He smirked, pressing the tip against your lips. 

“Open.”

Opening your mouth, you let your tongue flop out slightly. Slowly, he slid his length into your awaiting mouth. The wet warmth made him groan. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he began to fuck into your mouth. Spit bubbled at the corner of your lips. With a thumb, he swiped it up. Watching him suck your spit off of his thumb had you whimpering around his length. Wetness was pooling into your panties as the man used you. 

“Fuck, look at you. You’re loving every second of this, aren’t you?” All you could do was respond with a moan. 

With a pop he pulled out of your mouth. Using the hand on your hair, he tugged you back up. Turning you around, he forced you face down onto the desk. Flipping up your skirt, he groaned. Your panties were soaked through. He slid them off of you, exposing your pussy to the cool air. You whimpered at the feeling, then moaned as Eddie began to tease your sex with his cock. The tip sliding between your drenched lips, catching on your clit. 

“So fucking wet.” He groaned, staring at your pussy.

Slowly, he began to press into you. Both of you moaned at the feeling. Yeah, it had been a while for Eddie. Your tight wet heat had him shivering. His length was hitting all of the right spots within you. 

When he felt you were sufficiently ready, he started to thrust in and out of you. Obscene squelching sounds filled the room. Against the desk your moans were muffled as you were being fucked dumb. That wouldn’t do. Eddie grabbed your hair, pulling your head back. The action making you moan loudly. 

“That’s right.” He groaned in your ear, before leaving a trail of bites and kisses up your throat. 

At this angle, his cock was hitting that one perfect gummy spot within you. Every press inside makes you sputter out moans. A tightness was building up within your core. Pleasure coursing through you as you let the man use your body. 

“Mine.” He nipped at your ear. “Say it.”

“Y-yours, I’m yours!” You cried out.

“Damn right.” His thrusts grew faster.

Dexterous fingers trailed down your front. Hands cupping your breasts before trailing under your skirt. He began circling your clit as he continued to fuck you. Each press of his cock accompanied by sparks of pleasure from his fingers. 

In his arms you were an absolute mess. Mouth hung open as a stream of moans escaped you. Gaze glazed over, just taking everything the man gave you. Your wet heat twitched around him as you felt your orgasm building up to a peak. 

“Fuck, you’re close. Aren’t you, live wire?” The nickname had you whimpering. 

You nodded, letting out a long moan as his cock hit just the right spot within you.

“Why don’t you cum on my cock then, yeah?” His voice was ragged. You could tell he was nearing his end as well. Likely holding off till you finished on him. 

A perfectly placed swirl around your clit along with a thrust had you shattering. Screaming at the pure pleasure coursing through you. Clenching around Eddie had him following you. Stuttering out groans as you felt his cock twitch inside you. Hot ropes of cum filling you with a satisfying warmth. 

Both of you groan at the feeling of your orgasms subsiding. A warm hand cups your chin, turning your head back. His lips meet yours in a messy open-mouthed kiss. Your lips capture the overstimulated moans he lets out. 

While you both catch your breath, you feel his hands trailing over your back and sides. A surprisingly comforting action that has you sighing with content. You don’t see it, but a soft smile makes its way to his lips. 

Eventually, Eddie pulls out of you with a groan. Some of his spend trailing down your thigh. A sight he would memorize for… later purposes. Helping you up, he smooths down your skirt. The look in his eyes is soft now. 

He kisses you slowly, this time it's almost sweet. Like he didn’t just fuck you like a whore two minutes ago. When he pulls away, his eyes trail over your neck. He winces as he sees the bruises he littered over your throat. Guess it was time for turtleneck season, in the middle of summer. 

“Sorry about that.” He gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s alright.” You wave him off a satisfied smile on your face.

“Let’s getcha home, yeah?”

Nodding, you let him escort you back to your place. Both of you buzzing, wondering what comes next. 

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

The next day, you show up to work clad in a stuffy turtleneck. Praying desperately that no one would notice your odd choice of outfit. 

As you prepare for the night, a large presence appears next to you. Looking up, you see Volt looking down on you expectantly. A smirk playing on his lips. 

“Have a good night?” He asked, smirk growing wider.

Your eyes widened. 

“Uh, yeah. I-I guess.”

“You guess?” He let out a dramatic sigh. “Did Eddie leave you dissatisfied?”

His words had you choking on your own spit. Sputtering and blushing, you stared at him in disbelief.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Really?” He reached for the collar of your turtleneck, pulling it down.

Clicking his tongue admonishingly, he gave you a knowing look. Brow raised, waiting for you to say something.

“I hit myself on something.” You covered up the spot on your neck. 

“So be it.” He placed a hand on his hip, enjoying the embarrassed blush that had reached your cheeks. “I’m just disappointed I wasn’t invited to the party is all.” 

Mouth agape, you watched as Volt strode off. Leaving you alone with a new aching between your thighs. 

[gothicpaperback]

THE WAY HE CARES | PART THREE

<<< PART TWO | PART FOUR: COMING SOON >>>

wc: 2,1k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

taglist: @himboelover | @harrypotteranna23-blog | @isabella-rose-trastamara | @ro4nix | @sunndroppp | @harriedandharassed

THE WAY HE CARES | PART THREE

I woke up with my cheek pressed against Joel’s shoulder and a dull, jack hammering throb behind my eyes. The house was too bright, the air too stale, and I could taste bad beer, whiskey and regret on my tongue.

Joel stirred beside me, groaning low in his throat.

We sat up at the same time, groaning in stereo, both of us squinting like hungover goblins in a cave.

“God,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Did we drink my entire liquor cabinet?"

I blinked down at the coffee table. There, half-slid under an empty bottle, was the notepad we’d used last night. I pulled it toward me, hoping for a tidy list of logical, emotionless ground rules.

They started out like that, but quickly devolved the sloppy handwriting and barely legible notes. 

Number twelve: No weird eye contact Number nineteen: Joel is banned from singing lullabies. Number thirty: Must never tell the kid Joel thinks birds are government drones

I stared at it. Then held it up, deadpan. “You got sentimental.”

Joel squinted at it, then snorted. “That was you. You started writing names after your fourth beer.”

“Lies. You said the name Joel Jr was great because we can call him JJ.’”

“Yeah, and I stand by it,” he said, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “But you also said, and I quote, ‘He’s going to be the most emotionally stable Capricorn in the Western Hemisphere.’”

I winced. “I hate me.”

He let out a dry laugh, then leaned back against the couch with a long sigh.

“Anyway,” I said, voice turning more pointed as I dropped the notepad back on the table, “none of it matters. You don’t get a say in anything, remember? That was the agreement.”

Joel’s head turned slowly toward me. His jaw tensed.

“I know that,” he said, clipped. “You were the one who started jotting down nursery colours like we were designing a joint Pinterest board.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t kept saying, ‘You know what this kid needs?’ like you were pitching a product-”

“Oh, forgive me for trying to make conversation while donating my future genetics.”

“Donating? You made it sound like I won a sweepstakes.”

“I mean, clearly I was drunk enough to forget you’re still impossible.”

“Right back at you, Joel.”

We glared at each other. The warm fuzzy truce from last night had vanished like beer foam, replaced by familiar, petty tension that somehow felt even worse with a hangover.

Then Joel's phone buzzed with a text from Joel’s daughter’s contact name: SARAH.

> Mom’s dropping me off in an hour. Can we get donuts after??

Joel groaned again, this time with feeling. “Sarah’s coming back this morning. She cannot see me doing the walk of shame out of your house.”

"Not to mention that bitch Phelps across the street." 

I stood up, already formulating a plan that absolutely shouldn’t have made as much sense as it did. 

"We need to get you out without anyone seeing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of plan are we talking about here?”

Ten minutes later, Joel stood in my kitchen wearing a hoodie so tight on him it barely reached his wrists, a baseball cap pulled low, and sunglasses that belonged to my last regrettable ex. He was also wearing some of my hair extensions shoved under the cap, trailing around his stubbled cheeks. 

“This is your plan?” he asked, deadpan.

“You need to look like some loser I'd date. Dressed like that no one is gonna think you're Joel Miller, helpful

"No, they’re gonna think, drug dealer, let's call the cops." 

"So walk fast." 

Joel muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "fuckin' nutjob."

I peeked through the blinds. Across the street, his porch was still empty. No sign of Sarah or her mom’s car yet, but that didn’t mean the coast was clear.

“Okay,” I said. “You go down the side yard, cut behind the Petersons’ hedges, and take the long route around the back of the Culvers’ place. Then you cross diagonally to your garage from the alley side.”

“This is not a bank heist, it’s suburban espionage,” he grumbled, but he adjusted the cap on his head and followed me out the side door anyway.

We crept along the fence line like two criminals breaking out of a Hobby Lobby. At one point, Joel tripped over a lawn gnome and I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him from swearing loud enough for the birds to file a noise complaint.

As we passed behind the Petersons’ rose bushes, we both froze. Mr. Peterson was in the driveway, adjusting his sprinkler.

I hissed, “Act natural.”

Joel straightened his spine as I practically shouted. "Thanks for the delivery GrubHub guy. Your tip has been added!" 

Mr. Peterson frowned over at us. 

“Oh hi, Mr Peterson,” I shouted, yanking Joel by the arm and speed-walking toward the Culvers’ back fence. "Just thanking the Food delivery guy!" 

Mr. Peterson just nodded incredulously before going back to fixing his sprinkler. 

“This is humiliating,” Joel muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

Joel was sweating and glaring, but we were unseen. He darted down the alley, across to his backyard.

I was about to leave when Sarah's mom pulled up. 

"Shit." 

I watched the teen give her mom a kiss before grabbing her backpack. 

"See you next weekend, mom!"

"Bye honey!"

Joel was still halfway through his backyard when her mom's car took off. I was standing on the sidewalk pretending to check my mail. 

I panicked, knowing that if Sarah turned around right this second she would see her dad creeping through the hedges like a demented pervert. 

"Sarah!" I screeched. 

When he heard my scream, Joel tugged the hat, hair and glasses from his head. His real hair was a mess and he looked like he’d aged five years in ten minutes.

Sarah was peering at me from across the street. "Yeah?"

"Uh, come here a second." 

Sarah looked a bit confused but she did so, shooting me a smile. "Good morning."

I watched Joel from the corner of my eyes, smiling at Sarah. He was inching towards his side door. 

"I just wanted to say, Sarah, that I think you are a great kid." 

Sarah beamed up at me, all bright teeth and shiny eyes. "Thank you ma'am."

"Oh please, call me by my name," I said distractedly, my eyes on Sarah but my focus on Joel. 

"Uh, did you need anything?" Sarah asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence. 

Joel was so close. Just a few seconds more. I panicked. 

"I wanted to have you over for a cookout. This week. My place. Do you like mushroom burgers?" 

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Sarah said slowly. 

Joel was at the side door now. He gave me one last look, equal parts annoyed and begrudgingly impressed before he slipped inside. 

"Anyway, something to think about," I said far too loudly. "Bye Sarah! Lovely to see you!" 

I smiled hard, turned on my heel, and marched back to my house with Sarah waving after me. 

Disaster averted.

Ten minutes and two huge glasses of orange juice later, an alert popped up on my phone. 

> Guess our drunk selves wanted us to be in contact

A blurry selfie was saved under his name in my contact list.

Joel 'Babydaddy' Miller. 

Jesus. 

>At least they did us one solid. 

> Considering your devious little plan today I'm surprised we didn't do something worse

I watched the dots bounce as he formulated his response, biting my thumb nail and grinning at the screen.

>You’re terrifying when you’re organized.  >And you’re welcome for your spotless suburban reputation.

I imagined I could hear his chuckle across the street. His smile and perfect teeth. 

> Sarah mentioned something about a cookout this week?  > Oh right. I panicked. Sorry.  >It's fine. I'll make up an excuse. 

For some reason I felt a little deflated at the response but I couldn't pinpoint why. All I knew was that I needed this conversation to end. 

> I want my hoodie back by the way. Have a good week. 

And just like that, we were back to whatever the hell this was, two enemies playing house in the dumbest possible way.

[lilliezzzzz-fics]

Lord knows (it would be the last time)

pairing: carlos sainz x reader author's note: uh. lots of angst here, isn't there? *crickets* guys? anyway ficnation this is a little more angsty than usual so keep the tags/warnings in mind <3 carlos' debut on the lilliezzzzz-fics blog too!! yippie!! anyway, all that yapping aside, i hope you enjoy (^_^)/ tags: no use of y/n, established relationship, semi-toxic relationship, hurt/comfort, heavy angst though, post-argument reconcilation warnings: messy relationship dynamics, alcohol mentions, implied physical altercation (not between main characters), description of injury (a black eye, scarred lip, blood), toxic communication patterns word count: 1.2k

Arguing with Carlos is like arguing with yourself. Utterly, insanely stupid.

Not in the way that it's stupid just because you're arguing about nonsensical things, no, just because you're both incredibly hot-headed and it never ends well. Tonight was no different.

It had been as heated as ever, and Carlos had stormed out of your shared apartment claiming he needed some air, and you hadn’t stopped him; but it’s been hours by now, and he isn’t back. To say you were concerned would be a gross understatement.

By the time you’ve paced around the kitchen island for the fifty-fifth time, you finally decide to go out looking for him, slipping on a leather jacket that seems suspiciously too large, suspiciously smelling of cologne that’s not yours. You really couldn’t care—right now, all you wanted was for Carlos to be okay.

The air outside reeks of wafted smoke and gasoline from passerby cars, and the cold night air plummets at you like a violent embrace. The streetlights buzz with that quiet hum they always have, and the night is far, far too loud. The streets weren’t crowded, though, so you at the very least had that.

Gravel crackled underfoot as you walked through the desolate streets of Madrid, taking turns you were all too familiar with, searching out that one singular place that you just knew you were gonna find him at.

A little bar on some street corner—one Carlos once called his favorite place in the city. So welcoming and warm, he had said that night, leading you in with a smile that you so clearly remember. At the time, the words he described it with fit him more than the bar itself.

When you step through the bars’ open doors, there's two distinct smells that hit your nose first: cheap booze and a familiar cologne. Your eyes dart around the locale, disappointment fizzing through your body. And in the corner by a sticky table, alone—and seemingly drowsing off—is Carlos fucking Sainz. Beaten and bruised, and sticky with beer.

You walk towards him with a fire in your chest, an anger fueled by concern and bewilderment; why would he do this? Why would he let himself get drunk like this, and when you get close enough, you see something. Something unusual, a staining, a bloom of bruising around his eye. Dark, swollen at the edges—

Oh, oh what the hell?

“Carlos?” 

His name falls off of your tongue, coated with hurt and frustration as you stand beside the table, eyes trained on him.

“I knew you’d come,” he mumbles into his arms, like it’s a wish he didn’t want to make out loud.

“I don’t give a shit about that right now—what the fuck happened to you?” 

Carlos tilts his head up and you get to see his face more clearly, the bar’s dim lights an alright kind of lighting. His lip is broken, nose blood dried up that’s been smudged across his face—and then the black eye that still looks like it’s pulsing.

“I… I’m fine,” he utters, straightening his back, “you should see the other guy.”

“Fuck the other guy!” You exclaim, “come on, we’re getting you home.”

You heave the Spaniard off of the bar’s couch, letting him rely on you as you walk him out—because there’s no way he can walk on his own. Not in this state anyway. And you pull him out of the bar despite his hiccuping whines, despite his pleas and no’s. Carefully guiding him back to your little apartment.

“You’re wearing my jacket,” he murmurs, head drooping against your shoulder. “Smells like me.”

“It was the only one I could grab,” you say, low.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did.”

A pause.

“You’re such a bad liar,” he huffs—barely a laugh.

The apartment door shuts closed behind you with a slam. Loud, but you couldn’t care less. His weight sinks into the couch like he’s done it a thousand times before, and maybe he has, but never like this.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” You murmur, running a hand through your hair as you walk to grab the first aid kit.

It’s lodged between your pain killers and hangover pills in the medicine cabinet, a light layer of dust coating its top. You’d never think you’d have to use this thing ever again.

When you’re back in the living room, Carlos is nearly asleep, head tilted back against the couch, face slack toward the ceiling. A light trickle of blood starts re-emerging from his nose.

The cushions sink beneath you as you sit down beside him, lightly tapping his shoulder to let him get back to you, “I’m back.”

He looks down and you can notice how he panics, just a little, as blood trickles down his chin, almost down onto your couch—fumbling with his hands to not let it touch the fabric. 

You almost laugh at the sight, how even in his drunken state, there’s still a lot of Carlos in there. Your Carlos.

“Wait, move your hand amor,” you waft his hand away, lightly dabbing his nostril with a cotton ball, replacing it with a fresh paper piece to keep the blood from running, “just replace it if it’s getting too filled with blood, ‘kay?”

He nods slowly, eyes cast down. His lips part like he wants to say something—maybe thank you, maybe sorry—but all that comes out is a shaky breath.

Your hand grazes his cheek before softly grabbing a hold of it to closer inspect his injuries. It’s nothing major, but you do have to probably disinfect it.

You let go of your hold on him, opening the first aid kit to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol, “what even happened?”

“It was just some guy,” he drawls, words slurring together, “recognized me. Insulted me. Insulted you. So I punched him.”

“And you didn’t get kicked out?”

He shrugs, wincing as it tugs something in his side. “They… know me.”

You sigh, not out of relief. Not out of frustration. Something in between. A tired kind of sigh.

“Carlos…” you start, but the words catch.

His head turns toward you slowly, eyes glassy, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t want him to talk about you like that.”

Your lips part, but no breath comes out.

“You think I don’t know I ruin things?” he adds. “Every time. Even with you. I— I just couldn’t have him ruin that, too.”

The room stills, and your arm hovers as it holds the alcohol-soaked cotton ball, half way leaning over to him, slowly retreating back to sit straight. To look at him properly. Broken, bruised, and still sticky with beer, but he’s still your Carlos.

“You haven’t ruined anything, amor.”

You dab at his face with the cotton ball, dried blood flaking off with ease. Carlos’ eyes flutter shut. His gentle breathing, unlike how it was earlier, brings you a sense of calm. His steady presence eases you, because he’s at least here now. And he’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs, head softly dropping to the couch.

His breathing steadies, and soon enough, he’s asleep. Your eyes linger just a little longer on his figure, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, bearing all the words you couldn’t say.

“I always will.”

©lilliezzzzz-fics: please don't copy or distribute my work on any platform

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers <3

author's note: a little fic to post something while i work on a long fic!!! hope it's alright :)

taglist: @toodeepintofandoms @milessunflowers

[calypsocolada]

LOSER HAS TO FALL | hero x

(this is part two! click here for part one!) synopsis: maybe the top hero isn't as bad at flirting as you previously thought... authors note: helllooooo! second and final part to this lil series. i think i'm gonna write some more sometime soon about other characters. mainly lin ling <3, old e-soul, queen???? we'll see. hope you guys enjoy this! it turned out a bit longer than I previously thought and i'm sure there could be another part but... idk. we'll see how this one does! enjoy!!! wc: 4.6k cw: spoilers!, fem reader, use of y/n, angst, slightly suggestive, super duper brief mention of sewerslide, not proofread forgive me

click here for my masterlist!

It’d been just over a week since you heard from your father. He’d meant what he said. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t a liar. And you didn’t bother trying to reason with him. He was done with you. 

He had said many times before he only had a place beside him if you were a winner. And you weren’t one anymore. You lost. Pretty damn hard and pretty damn publicly. So you were dropped from your father’s hero association and quickly, a little too quickly to not be calculated, replaced by the next up and comer. 

You on the other hand had actually managed to get signed rather quickly. All thanks to Queen, who had taken pity on you after seeing you sat in the parking lot of the stadium way past when the tournament ended. You’d never really been left on your own. Every single step of your life was puppeteered by your father. You didn’t exactly know how to stand on your own just yet. 

But nevertheless Queen brought you to DOS and after less than a three minute talk you were asked to join the agency. It startled you a bit. Seeing as you were conditioned to think people who lost gained nothing in return. But you were still the top third hero and apparently MIckey, the head of DOS, saw that as a great achievement. 

“Oh, and before you go, Winner?” Mickey called, your hand paused as you turned. Mickey was sitting back at his desk, his hand reaching for his coffee cup. “Our surveillance system wasn’t able to pick up you and Hero X’s conversation.” He starts, you furrow your brow, turning fully to face him. 

“Our conversation?”

“During the tournament.” He supplies. You slowly nod your head. “That man he’s… a mysterious one. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him even for a moment.” Mickey tries to laugh off his words but it’s too hollow, too stressed sounding. “I even visited his floor but… it’s vacant. I’m just curious… since he didn’t speak a single word to anyone else the entire tournament, before and after. But he spoke to you… seemed like he said a lot.” 

“Well he…” You cleared your throat, trying to recall the short conversation. “He mocked me mostly. Then he…” You stopped yourself. He had asked you to dinner and for some reason that embarrassed you. “Yeah… he just mocked me. My hero name.” You averted your eyes. You felt Mickey’s eyes burn into you, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. It was clear he only half believed you, which was fine because you were telling a half truth.

“That’s all?” He asked. You nodded your head. Mickey swallows, nodding head head. 

“Well alright then, welcome to DOS, Winner.”

And welcomed you were. And marketed to. Though this time around you had a lot more say in the kinds of sponsorships and brand deals you took. You had asked a few times to change your hero name but it was always met with a resounding ‘no’. 

“If you change it now, it’s like starting all over!” Mickey had said to you over the phone as you were chauffeured back to the hero tower. 

“What’s so wrong with starting over?” You asked and felt disheartened when you heard Mickey’s laugh over the line. 

“Winner is a beloved hero and a household name. Everyone knows Winner. Millions of people have put their trust in Winner. Winners in the top three leaderboard of heroes. You can’t start over now.” Mickey listened as your car pulled up and your door was opened. 

“It doesn’t feel like me.”

“What does? Winner is a persona… she isn’t supposed to be you.” Mickey says and you can hear the exasperation in his voice and that part of you that never really got out of the habits your father instilled in you rolled over. 

“Alright,” You conceded. “I won’t ask again.” You said, stepping out of the car into the blinding sun, you shielded your eyes as Mickey over the phone all but cheered.

“Good girl.” He hangs up the phone, that familiar click turning your blood hot. You shoved your phone in your pocket and strutted towards the elevator. It dinged, the white doors pulling apart as you stepped inside and let it carry you up to your floor. It slowed to a stop and pulled apart again as you stepped out, something shining and catching your attention. The familiar sound of a coin slicing through the air as it flips onto a hand. The doors to the elevator pulled shut behind you as your eyes met X’s. He leaned against your kitchen island looking exactly as he had the day he beat you. The same tailored suit, slicked back hair and shit eating grin, although he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Busy day?” He asked nonchalantly, pocketing the coin he was fiddling with. You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He raised his brows slightly, tilting his head. “Well?” He encouraged. You cleared your throat, there was something about him. Something like a demand for your attention. 

“Yes. It was busy.” You said. X snapped, two glasses materializing in his hands. 

“Share a drink?” He asks. 

“I… don’t have any wine-” He snaps again and a bottle clatters on the top of your counter. He turns, reaching for the bottle, popping the cork and pouring you both a glass. You hesitantly make your way towards him. He slid your glass to your side of the kitchen island and raised his glass towards you. Your fingers slid around the cold glass, slowly raising it to meet his. His eyes caress your face as your glasses clink. 

“To signing to a new association.” He says, tilting the glass towards you before pulling it towards his lips. 

“How did you-”

“I know alot about you.” he interrupts. “Also it’s all over the news.” He adds as you pull your own glass to your lips. You two meet eyes, taking sips. The third floor of the hero tower had never felt smaller than in this moment.

“What’s… your deal?” You asked as X leaned back, gulping down his glass, snapping as it refills itself. 

“My deal?” He echoes your words, smirking at you. 

“Yes,” You affirmed, setting your glass down. “Your deal.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” He asks and you're glad you set your glass down because you probably would’ve sent it careening towards his head. 

“That implies that I even think about you.” You countered. X perked up at your words, he almost looked… thrilled at your sharp tone. 

“You don’t?” He asks, his voice… soft, almost lilting. You shook your head. 

“My boss does. He’s curious about the top hero.” You said, reaching for your glass again, taking a sip. X purses his lips slightly. 

“And you?” He asks, your eyes cut to his.

“And me?”

“Mhm.” He hums. “You're not the least bit curious about me?” If you could choose a hero name for this man, you would’ve gladly and quickly chosen shameless. 

“Who’re you? What’s your name?”

“X.” He answers simply. 

“You’ll call me by my real name but you won’t tell me your real name?” You asked. X took another long sip. 

“It’s better this way.��� He shrugs. “Any other questions for me?”

“Why’re you here? In my home?”

“Well you know… you never answered me.” He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Hm?” You hummed before taking another sip of the wine. It was good wine, a familiar taste. 

“Dinner?” He grins over his glass. Your eyes cut to his again. Right… guess you never answered him. 

“No.” You said and X’s grin faltered for a moment before he smoothly recovered. 

“No? Just like that?” He dips his head, a strand of his hair falling in his face.

“Just like that.” You affirmed. X rose to his feet, he reached up, smoothing his hair back, he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“I know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.” He smiles, the first genuine thing you’d seen from him. It was… actually a good look on him. He looked sly when he smirked. He looked down right handsome when he smiled. You walked him to the door, his hand reached out, clicking the elevator button as the cables came to life, pulling it up to your floor. The doors slide open and X steps in. 

“You know, I pegged you as someone who would barter just a bit for dinner.” You said, smirking yourself. X’s eyes snapped to yours. “I must not know you very well.” You waved, he parted his lips to speak just as the doors slid to a close. You stepped back, alone and overwhelmed. You… you had never flirted before. It wasn’t something you thought would come easy but… it came easy just now. It felt good to smile, to tease and argue with someone who didn’t anger easily. It was like he drew out a different side to you. A side of you that wasn’t marred down by lessons learned the hard way.

X sent over a thousand roses a week later. You came home from a mission, exhausted and staggering in pain and tripped up on them, almost sent sprawling on your tile flooring. You straightened, powers extending to hit the light switch. Every color rose imaginable littered the entirety of your apartment, every single surface had a vase with tens of roses inside. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you winded your way through the apartment. Your landline rings, echoing through your apartment. You trip your way to the phone, yanking it up. 

“Am I pushing my luck?” X asks, you could hear the smirk in his voice. You swallowed hard, thinking about the clean up, about what the hell you were going to do with all these roses. 

“Twenty would have been too many.” You remarked. X laughed, his laugh was warm and amused. You heard his fingers snap and suddenly all but one rose was gone, right on the table next to the phone.

“Better?” He asked, as you reached for it, thinking the moment you got close enough it would disappear but you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. 

“I don’t understand your powers.” You said, tucking the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walk the rose towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, no one does.” He says, his voice almost warm against your ear. You reach into the cupboard, grabbing a glass, half filling it with water.

“Tell me about them.” You say, placing the rose in the water. 

“You wanna know more about me? Let me take you out to dinner.”

“We’re back on that, huh?” You ask, feeling something warm spread through your body.

“Well, here I am… bartering for dinner.” He says and that warmth goes a bit hot. You swallow. 

“I don't get it. You’re an enigma. Everyones talking about you, about X. No one knows a damn thing, you don’t talk to anyone else in the association. What’s your fascination with me?” You ask, sliding onto the counter. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“You’re fascinating.” He answers simply, voice serious. 

“You never answer any of my questions.” You sigh, leaning back on your hand, looking back towards the skyline outside your apartment window. 

“I think… it’s pretty clear.”

“What?”

“My intentions, Y/n.” X says and your heart actually flips in your chest. You clear your throat. 

“Make them clear for me.” You say, voice soft. It’s quiet for another moment. What’re you getting yourself into?

“I want to take you on a date. I find you… alluring. Always have. I told you at the end of our fight I was a big fan.”

“Of Winner.” He was a fan of Winner, that wasn’t you. 

“No. Not the hero you pretend to be on commercials and tv shows. The one I see on the news smiling as she saves the day. The one that still introduces herself as if she’s not a top hero.” You swallow dryly at his words. Did he understand you? Was he seeing past the manufactured ‘you’?

“It’s… only polite to introduce yourself.” You covered, trying not to sound as affected as you felt. Even you didn’t entirely know who you were yet. There definitely still was a part of you, probably a part you could never entirely rid yourself of, that was still competitive. You wanted to be the top hero and you wanted that title to be something only you accomplished. To show your father you weren’t useless and still had worth.

“I have a feeling you're going to turn me down again.” X’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, you think it’s pretty obvious. 

“I want to be the top hero. I could’ve been the top hero.” You start, glancing over at the rose on your countertop. “I’m going to spend a lot of my time this year training up so I can wipe the floor with you at the next competition.”

“Ah. So it’s like that, huh?” He asks, that smirk coming back, you could practically see it. 

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Y/n, are you thinking this declaration of war will deter me in any way? Because… Quite frankly, now I want that date with you more than anything. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Your brows shoot up in surprise. You were sure your words would put an end to the chase X was running.

“You’re insatiable.” You half laugh, half scoff in surprise. 

“Satiate me then. It’s one date.” He bartered quite well. When did just dinner turn into a date? And it was just one date. Something you’d never been on. Plus this could be your one and only chance to get actual answers about him. Everyone has a weakness, and you needed to find out what that was if you wanted a fair fight.

“Alright. One date.”

“Be ready in an hour.” X answered smoothly, you shot up. 

“Now?”

“Mhm. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hummed and the line went dead. You hopped off the counter and for an hour you rushed around. You took a shower and blow dried and styled your hair. You pulled on a dress that Queen let you borrow for a gala a few weeks ago and stopped in the kitchen, taking two shots to calm your nerves. Just as you set the shot glass down the elevator doors dinged and X stepped inside your apartment. 

“You didn’t give me much time, asshole.” You called out to him as he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks and so did you. He wasn’t wearing a white suit, nor did he have white hair. You didn’t know who this man was. “Who the hell-“

“It’s me.” He says, reaching up to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. He had clean black hair, pushed sideways out of his face, black rimmed glasses and a fitted black salaryman suit. He looked like an office job worker, someone that would bump into on the street in a hurry to get back to the office. You furrowed your brows. He snaps his fingers and in a blink of an eye the white suit materializes, his black hair smoothing into white. He snaps again and he’s back to normal. “Most hero’s need a disguise to hide behind.” He reaches up, running a hand through his black hair. You realized you hadn’t said a word and cleared your throat. “Oh no… did I lose my appeal?”

“So this is who you are?” You ask and his face softens slightly, he nods his head. “You’ll show me this but won’t tell me your real name.”

“I’ll save that for the second date.” He smirks and that smirk was enough to make you realize it really was him, the two could coexist in your mind purely by the way he smiled. You relax slightly, your creased brow calming. 

“I really don’t get you.” You said but your voice wasn’t sharp or annoyed.

“Figured maybe you had a thing for brunettes.” His words draw a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know what my thing is.” 

“Well I hope you like sushi.” He raises his arm. You hadn’t even noticed he was holding a take out bag. 

“I thought you knew a place?”

“Mhm. Your place.” He smirks, crossing the floor to the kitchen island, ripping open the bag to start pulling out the food. “I wouldn't get a moment of peace with you out in the public.”

“Why's that?” You asked, crossing the floor to lean on the kitchen island, his hands, once smoothly removing the food, shakes a bit at your closeness. He clears his throat. 

“You’re a top hero… everyone will know you. Not to mention you’d be on a date… looking like that.” His eyes drag down your body then back up to your face. You glare at him. “Pushing my luck again?” You nod your head and he laughs, snapping as two glasses and a bottle of wine appear on the table. 

“If I had known we’d be staying in I wouldn’t have bothered with this dress.”

“I’m glad you bothered. And I’m glad I’m the only one to see you in it.”

“I wore it to a gala. A lot of people saw me in it.” You remarked, reaching for the wine but he’s quicker than you. He grabs it, pouring you a glass. 

“You hate being flirted with, don’t you?” He asks, pouring his own drink. You thought about that for a moment. It’s not that you didn’t like to be flirted with, it was more so there was still a part of you that hated that he beat you. And sometimes being antagonistic to his flirting seemed to be a small payback. You shrugged, taking a drink. 

“I wouldn’t say I hate it. Maybe you’re not as slick as you think.” You say and find yourself smirking into your glass. X cocks his head slightly, eyes devouring your expression. You flush under the scrutiny of his gaze and wonder if your words pushed him to try harder.

“See this is why I bartered for dinner. What other woman would tear me down at every given opportunity?” He asks, his face all amusement and light. You bite your lip, hiding a smile.

“I guess… maybe I am a bit mad at you.” You say as he starts dividing out the food.

“Why’s that?”

“You beat me.” You say and feel a bit out in the open at your response. You couldn’t hide the vulnerability and you’d never been good at keeping secrets and for some reason you felt disarmed by him. He showed a side of himself to you that no one else knew about. 

“I did.” He smirks and you glare at him. He laughs it off and reaches for his glass. “But that’s because you didn’t want to win for yourself, right? You wanted to win for your father.” Your mouth goes dry. “Look, it's not hard to see how hard he pushed you. When you first became a hero you were everywhere. In every tournament and talk show. You were in movies and on cereal boxes. Everyone knew who you were purely because of how much you worked. There’s not a single other hero, aside from Nice, that worked as hard as you. And we all know what happened to him.” That’s right. You remember seeing that on the news. The hero Nice killed himself because of the pressures placed on his shoulders. You remember your father laughing at the tv. Claiming not every hero can take the pressure. It made you angry. You pop some sushi into your mouth. 

“It… it wasn’t all bad.” You say, avoid eye contact. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if my father hadn’t pushed me.”

“Your father shoved you. Not pushed. And no one thinks about your father when they think about Winner. They just see you.”

“They see the persona he created.”

“Sure. He may have created Winner but what’s an empty persona without someone to fill it?” He asks. You swallow, slowly meeting his eyes. “Your success is yours alone. Your father never fought against villains or in tournaments. You did.” 

“You really do sound like a fan.” You try to lighten the moment, the tension between you two has gotten a bit thicker. 

“I’m a big fan. I already told you that.” He smiles. You blow out a laugh. “And if your heart is really in it, I think maybe you could beat me.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You laugh, gulping down the rest of your glass. “You snap your fingers and stuff appears like magic. You beat most everyone in the tournament in mere seconds. I could put up a fight but I don’t think I’ll win.” You say as X snaps his fingers and his other persona walks around the kitchen island to stand in your space. You turn, looking up at him.

“You wanna know my weakness?” He asks, somehow he was even closer. You swallowed dryly, tried to push down the heat rising within you, failing miserably as your cheeks warm up. You nod your head and watch a ghost of a smirk on his face form. He reaches for your hand, warmer than your own as he guides your hand to his chest, holding it right over his heart. “I’m still human. You pierce right here and that crown is yours.” Your heart skipped a beat, his hand enveloped yours, he towered over you. You couldn’t find words, your eyes were locked with his. There was so much confusion. Your head and heart were at war. Nothing winning over lust. Because you’d never met someone so invested in you. Not Winner. You. “Did I push my luck again?” He asked for final time. 

Your hand shot to his tie and yanked him down forcibly against your lips. He made a surprised grunt of a noise, probably due to your strength. Sometimes you forget the extent of your powers. X didn’t waste much time in reveling in surprise though, he recovered swiftly. His hands are on you in seconds, sliding down to your hips, pulling you closer.

This was a horrible idea. You’d be facing this man in a tournament for top hero. 

Your hand ran through, messing up his hair, the other sliding against his cheek as his hand reached out, knocking things off the counter out of the way as his arm wrapped around your hip. He easily pulled you up onto the counter, parting your knees with his hand as he stood between them, body pressed against yours. Your dress rode up dangerously high on your thighs, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to-

He trailed his lips away from your own, kissing down your jaw to your neck. You sucked in a breath. You felt as though someone set you on fire. You supposed it was X.

He wouldn’t even tell you his real name. He was trying to get into your head. This is how he’d win again. 

“God… you wreck me..” He murmured against your neck. Who knew four words could make any shred of doubt about this moment completely evaporate. That little voice in your head had shut right up. You melted against him, hands yanking his lips back onto your own. You kissed him hard enough to bruise because your frustrations had passed into lust and you had to one up him in some way. Your hand slid beneath the shoulders of his suit jacket and pushed it off. He didn’t protest and even smiled against your lips. You fumbled with his tie, huffing as you pulled away from his lips to get a better look at the damn thing as it gave you trouble. He raised a brow watching you struggle. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, he didn’t take his hands off you to help. “What kind of knot is this?”

“The regular one.” He answered with an amused expression. You shot him a glare, letting go. 

“Take off your tie.” You demanded and at your tone his hands flew to his tie, unknotting it with sly ease. You took over, whipping it off him. You blew out a sharp breath. 

“This is a new side of you.” X said, voice breathy and you met his eyes. 

Sometimes you got frustrated and angry. When you worked for your father your frustrations were seen as a weakness and what anger you had, your father had a whole reserve of. So usually you were able to take it out on the training dummies or run around the gym until you collapsed. You weren’t entirely sure what was making you angry here. Maybe the lack of control, your feelings of inferiority against X. 

You close your eyes, shaking your head. He’d done nothing wrong that you could see and you were misplacing your frustration. This just wasn’t something you were ready for. 

“This isn’t going to work.” You said after a moment. X’s thumb gently moved against your thigh. You couldn’t get out of your own head about all of this. About whether he was using you. “What… do you have to gain from this?” You ask and X’s hands pause on your skin. 

“I have nothing to gain but your time.”

“Bullshit.” You scoff. 

“Not everyone’s out for blood.” He says, reaching up and tucking your hair gently behind your ear. You met his eyes. “I think we both want similar things, judging by the way you kissed me.” You flushed at the memory. “I’m at your mercy, Y/n. What you say goes.” 

“If you're using me to— to get something I’ll kill you.” X smiles at your words, he drags his thumb gently across your cheek and leans in. “I mean it-,” He cuts you off, pressing a kiss to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, trying to make you forget those pesky worries. 

“I’ve been warned.” He whispers against your mouth. You breathed out shakily, flexing your hands tightly to keep from yanking him on top of you. He slowly pulled back, eyes looking over your flushed face. His hands slid onto your hips, easing you off the counter. “Walk me to the door?” He asks.

“You… you can stay. We can eat.”

“I don’t think we’ll do much eating if I stay.” He answers, his eyes eating up your face. You slowly nod your head, quickly fixing your dress, leading him to the door. You ruined the night, you felt it deep in your bones. You weren’t ready so you ruined things. He reaches for the elevator button. 

“Sorry.” You intone, a few steps behind him. His hand pauses, he doesn’t press the button. You look guiltily at the ground. “I ruined the date.”

“You didn’t.” He laughs and your eyes shoot up to him. “On the contrary, I had fun. Can we do this again?”

“You’re joking.” You respond tonelessly, bordering on surprise. 

“Nope. I’ve fallen quite hard. I think I need another night like this with you.” You can’t help but blush. “I’ll call you.” He presses the button and it dings, the doors sliding open. He turns and meets your eyes. You walk a few steps to the door, hand shooting out to grab his tie once more. You pull him to your lips again, a silent confirmation that you wanted to do this again too. You pulled away and let go of his tie just as the doors slid closed. You wouldn’t say you fell because only losers fall, but… it was sure something close to it. 

[freyafrida]

rilla of ingleside book club, chapter two

okay I'm already kind of over screencapping the text except for the chapter titles lmao. moving on!

"Her hair was ripely, ruddily brown"

Honestly funny that I'm not sure any of the popular editions of this book have managed to get this right. Rilla's a much brighter redhead on the Bantam cover, and even the unabridged, researched and lovingly restored Viking Press version looks like this:

I have...no real opinions about Miss Oliver; I think her ~visions~ tend to be a little too dramatic (especially once she starts predicting the outcome of the war with them, like come on), although the way she teases Susan and the Blythes is occasionally funny. I'd rather her role be replaced with an actual peer of Rilla's (lots of girls are mentioned as Rilla's friends in passing, but we don't see an actual friendship between them!), but I don't feel that strongly about it. (Actually, having read the rest of the chapter, I had the sobering realization that Miss Oliver is probably the character I'm most like, in that I am pessimistic over things going too well and a little superstitious and also Of An Age and unmarried. Welp. This has been an educational read.)

“Why couldn’t they have called her by her first name, Bertha, which was beautiful and dignified, instead of that silly “Rilla”? ”

This is so funny to me because I don't think there's a single girl in the 21st century who would rather be called "Bertha" than "Rilla." rilla/carl agenda time: you ever think about how they both go by shortened versions of their middle names and nobody ever uses their first names?

I do wish we got a little more of Marilla (Cuthbert) besides Rilla just casually mentioning that she died and Rilla hated her name :(

I def. remember thinking Rilla and Walter's relationship was eye-rollingly saccharine as a kid -- as the elder of two siblings I was like, "Start bullying her or get out of the older sibling club Walter", but thinking about it more -- while my brother and I fought constantly as kids, by the time I was Walter's age and my brother was Rilla's, we actually did get along really well! So, yeah, baby freyafrida was wrong there, lol -- I actually really love Walter as a big brother, reading this now. He's clearly so sweet and patient with Rilla's need for attention from her older siblings ❤️ (Also, while I have never shown my diary to anyone, I do wince in sympathy with Rilla showing hers to Walter, because I def. had that urge as a teenager -- the idea that showing someone you like/admire all your secrets will make them understand the Real You and open up in turn.)

The dynamic between Rilla and the rest of her siblings also intrigues me -- she seems...apart from them, in a way, almost like Shirley? I mean, part of it is probably that there are just no scenes of her spending time with them, and that she was too young to be part of their shenanigans in Rainbow Valley, but it does lend some...legitimacy, I guess, to her being upset that they're all hanging out without her -- while it's understandable that Jem is too old to really want to hang with her, the gap between her and Nan/Di isn't much bigger than the gap between them and Jem iirc. (Just speculating, but I imagine it'd be hard to be the only other sister to a pair of twins.) (That said, every pair of siblings I knew who were only 1-3 years apart in age got along swimmingly -- I really envied them when I didn't get along with my brother -- so Rilla and Shirley should've been besties!!)

Speaking of, love the mention that Shirley teases Rilla by calling her "Spider" 🥹 He's so nonexistent that it's easy to speculate he's not close with his family, so I love that he does have a teasing relationship with her.

“Wordsworth never wrote anything like Walter’s poems—nor Tennyson, either.” “I wouldn’t say just that. Both of them wrote a great deal of trash,” said Miss Oliver dryly.”

LMAOOO. I will say I did not particularly enjoy any of the poems attributed to Walter in The Blythes Are Quoted, apart from "The Aftermath" -- maybe it's a personal taste thing, although I do think part of it is that they're very much in LMM's voice, so they come off weirdly twee if you're trying to imagine that a college-age dude wrote them.

Ah, and of course there's Walter writing poems to Faith. Now, the way I jumped when I saw in Readying Rilla that the draft originally explicitly said Walter was in love with Faith! From what's actually published, you could read him writing sonnets to her as a poetic or aesthetic interest (although I do think he had a legit crush on her, see below), so it's v. interesting to see that the original intent was that he was into her, romantically. Also interesting suggestion that it might've caused conflict with Jem and Walter, although of course it didn't -- mentioned before, but it's funny that this whole Jem/Faith/Walter situation gets set up in Rainbow Valley and mentioned at the start of Rilla, and then it goes absolutely nowhere. There's never any drama between Jem or Walter because of it and it never comes up again.

Speaking of...is it too early for Walter Sexuality Discourse? LOL. Tbh I don't have much to say there; my boring Both Sides take is that I see the vision in reading Walter as gay and I don't think it's a reach -- on the other hand, I also think there's evidence that his thing with Una is meant to be a doomed romance where Walter was capable of reciprocating, and I roll with that reading because I love Una too much to think that Walter wouldn't love her back. Anyway, I bring it up because I do read Walter as being legitimately attracted to and interested in Faith. There's not much of it in Rilla, but in RV I do think he has a clear crush on her. ("Walter did not want to ride a pig through Glen St. Mary, but whatever Faith Meredith dared him to do must be done.") It jives a lot with his worship of beauty for beauty's sake and his Anne-like tendency to get swept away by ideals and surface-level perceptions (e.g. fearing the pain of getting his tooth pulled in RV even though having the chronic toothache is worse).

(Once again an interesting choice -- Faith briefly thinks Jem is handsome at the start of RV, and they get a brief scene together at the end of that book, then are nearly engaged in Rilla. And yet, much of RV is actually devoted to Faith and Walter's friendship -- although I think it's kinda obvious straight off that they wouldn't work as a couple, see Faith telling Walter to just suck it up re: his toothache and get it pulled. She'd get sick of his poetry and dramatics so fast, lmao.)

“I don’t half like that,” said Miss Oliver, with a sigh. “It’s ominous—somehow. A perfect thing is a gift of the gods—a sort of compensation for what is coming afterwards. I’ve seen that so often that I don’t care to hear people say they’ve had a perfect time. June has been delightful, though.” “Don’t wish it. Dramatic things always have a bitterness for some one. What a nice summer all you gay creatures will have! And me moping at Lowbridge!”

Miss Oliver, you don't have to respond to everything Rilla says with how moody and emo you are, lmao.

“I heard some one say once that the years from fifteen to nineteen are the best years in a girl’s life.”

I love how weirdly specific that is to encompass the years of the coming war. Like, haha, get it??

“Father says I toil not neither do I spin.”

This is interestingly exactly what Phil Gordon says about herself in Anne of the Island!

“And then,” continued Anne, “there will be a good deal of work to be done. Stella’s aunt can’t do it all. We all expect to have our chores to do. Now, you—” “Toil not, neither do I spin,” finished Philippa.

Although I have to wonder...if Rilla's not doing chores and not studying, what exactly is she planning to do every day for the next four years? Genuinely I'm not super up on what she would've been able to fill her days with (social calls all the time?), I'd be interested in any insight there.

Anyway, this is basically another chapter that sets up the idyll of Ingleside life before war invades it, this time setting Rilla's character up for us. I always liked Rilla -- she was a fave upon first read and I still like her now! Idk, I've always liked silly, frivolous female characters -- I think it's because growing up, I felt like such characters in children's/YA books were often portrayed disproportionately negatively -- I never felt like their behavior was offensive enough to warrant them having to be humbled, you know? (don't ask for examples because I can't think of any off the top of my head lmao, I'm just recalling Vibes from when I was young that shaped my opinion in this direction!) I think the fact that the narration has a sense of humor about her ("...sighed Rilla, a little importantly”) also makes her frivolity more palatable and even relatable -- who doesn't love a good self-important sigh every now and again, you know?

Readying Rilla stuff:

Rilla originally just refers to Walter having "the flu" (or, well "the fl", LMM apparently cut that idea off before it even finished lmao) instead of typhoid; interesting to think if he was meant to have nearly died from the flu, or if his illness was initially much less serious!

Walter is initially referred to as being 19 instead of twenty. Not sure if he was intentionally aged up or this is another example of "Shirley is eighteen for two years"-esque math.

Dog Monday's name was originally some variation of "Jink/Jack/Jacks" and then Rags.

[loathemetc]

DELTARUNE THEORY: Is the Knight really "too obvious?"

More specifically, is Dess being the Knight too obvious?

In my opinion, no.

I feel like people who are in way too deep into Deltarune like I am are forgetting that Dess being the Knight isn't actually obvious to the layman player.

Like you gotta remember Dess is a character who is only mentioned in optional dialogue in Chapter 1, in passing a few times in Chapter 2, and once directly in Chapter 3. Tenna is the first character to even call her December. Everything about Dess being missing and her full name being December in Chapter 2 is subtext, and frankly some people just don't catch subtext.

Dess only being called direct attention to in Chapter 3, the same chapter the Knight appears in, is certainly no coincidence, but it doesn't read as a misdirect. After all, up until the Knight appears, the game is busy misdirecting you into thinking Kris is the Knight. Then soon after the game introduces you to Carol, a cold woman who is clearly sus as hell and has pointed antlers just like the Knight.

The subtext is becoming a lot more noticeable sure. Dess's room is labelled as such, it's not supposed to be entered, her guitar not meant to be touched. But the game isn't giving you much time to chew on that idea before introducing Carol and her obvious villain vibes. There is not much lull between the game wanting you to think Kris is the Knight and the game wanting you to think Carol is the Knight. There's also like 3 seconds of Asgore misdirect that is like, extra funny if you didn't know he was in the house yet, which is weirdly missable information.

But I know what you're asking, isn't the Knight's sword looking like a bat for a second too obvious? Well, besides just the fact that not everybody is going to immediately make the connection that it looks like a bat in those two seconds, no. Every mention of Dess wielding a bat is optional missable dialogue, and frankly, the lyrics to Raise Up Your Bat are nigh unreadable when you're actually trying to win the rhythm game. And if they missed that dialogue about the whiffle bat, they might not even make the connection between Raise Up Your Bat and Dess, even if the subtext of the Tenna scene makes it pretty obvious. Same with the baseball moon scene, although that again requires you to make the connection between Dess and baseball in the first place.

And then, throughout the rest of Chapter 4 and the Knight's various appearances, Dess is never mentioned again, and the actually present character of Carol will linger on most players minds.

In short, the game is definitely dropping hints that Dess is the Knight, but they're not as loud as people seem to think. People playing the game now, all at once, and not being the most thorough definitely won't be thinking it's as obvious as the people who have photographic memory of all facts about Dess from years of theorizing, and they might just not pick up on the idea in the first place. Kris is a much more enticing candidate until they aren't, and then Carol appears soon after. Dess is the underdog option here, being given less attention by the game due to her lack of presence, and that makes her all the better for keeping the mystery going.

I guess this was a sort of weird reverse of a Dess Knight theory, approaching it from the opposite perspective as usual, but I suppose I do think it's the most likely option. But if you think it's too obvious, just ask the people who saw the antlers and still think it's Asgore or Papyrus.

Last thing to remember I think is that this is a game that was never meant to be played in chunks over many years. The intended play experience is going to be playing the game start to back once it's actually done, like most other rpgs. We were never meant to have years in between chapters to obsess over all available information. Now, that doesn't mean theorizing is a bad thing, I love theorizing. But you gotta remember not to overthink it. Something that seems too obvious with years of time to think about it and all available information is not going to be too obvious to some guy playing through the whole game for the first time as intended.

[evening-desire]

Hi!! (Sorry my first time asking)

How about our favorite bully femboy with a darling of an opposite style?

Like goth or punk grunge.

Maybe even scene, idk I just think I'd be funny to see this walking spicy pink marshmallow and his girlfriend look's like Satan reincarnated lmao.

That's all, have a great day 🫶

omg welcome pooks! well i hope this won't be your last time asking hehe, sorry if it takes too long but i hope it's just to your liking 🫰

yandere!mean!femboy : what if darling has the opposite style as him?

cw : yandere, sfw no smut but mdni, bullying mentioned, doxxing mentioned (are we even surprised atp?), gender neutral reader.

this is a great idea actually, first of all- i initially made darling's character to be bland as hell. they don't have personal style, they don't have any particular hobbies, they just... exist. literally an npc that made to be bullied by the mean girls (or in this universe, by a mean femboy) on the hallways.

because i think it'll be funny if a basic ass person dating the embodiment of hot pink spicy bedazzled marshmallow (just like what anon described), people would be like "did he really... date... that person??" like femboy is all pink, sparkly, basically a walking barbie doll (or bratz doll) while darling... yea they just there i guess.

but let's just say darling has a personal style that are the opposite aesthetic as femboy's, like goth/emo/punk or even scene.

he will be so mean about it at first, acting like he's not obsessed with you, calling you a weirdo and all kind of names, rolling his eyes at you, but eventually he'll learn to accept it anyways, because your style is part of you, and he loves everything about you.

he'll grimace at your music taste, calling it satanic, 'noise' music, etc etc. but later you'll find him playing one of your favorite band's songs while he's doing his nails.

one thing about femboy that benefits goth/emo/scene darling is he's great at doing eyeliner, he'll do your eyeliner in your style every morning without any exception, and if he ever sees als already did your eyeliner yourself he will drag you inside, wipe your eyeliner off and do it himself all over again.

and when the two of you started dating, or even better (worse) start living together- be ready to have some glitter stuck to your outfits because he insist to share the wardrobe with you.

it's the way you dress- black lipstick, spiked collar, layers of mesh and chains, boots that could crush a man’s ribs, it gives people the wrong idea. you walk down the hallway like a storm cloud in human form, and people move out of your way, assuming you're a menace. that you're cold. maybe even cruel as you look.

but in reality, you won't even hurt a fly. but the walking pink squishmallow of a boyfriend beside you would. he would eradicate all of the flies for you.

you would say “bless you” when people sneeze. you hold doors open. you talk to stray cats and apologize to vending machines when you press the wrong button. you’re just shy, a little awkward, and okay, maybe you listen to romantic rock songs and wear corpse makeup on tuesdays.

while your boyfriend- the glitter-coated, bratty, pink-wearing femboy who looks like he walked out of a magical girl anime but talks like regina george possessed a cupcake. he’s sugar and venom, sparkles and threats, all wrapped up in thigh-high socks and a cherry glossed smirk. his nails are always painted, his skirts are always short, and his eyes? if a stare could kill, half of the people he met would be 6 feet underground.

and gods help anyone else who tries to get close to you.

he likes that you dress in all black. that you look like death reincarnated. it scared people off and made you all his alone. but if anyone still dare to approach you even if you look intimidating...

he’ll giggle and twirl his hair when people try to flirt with you, all cutesy and sweet at first. then he’ll find out their home address and post it in some obscure revenge forum with a caption like “this guy tried to flirt with my baby. let’s see how fast he deletes his socials <3”.

he sees your style as proof that no one else deserves you- no one could understand the contrast, the softness hidden behind all that dark glam.

yes, he's still pretty much very mean with you, regardless of your style and preference.

"love... what is this?" you ask as you hold a black furred labubu in one of your hand, deadpanning at your boyfriend who's too busy checking his new set of nails that day.

he just shrugged his shoulders, clearly unbothered, "bought that ugly thing because it looks like you"

and that labubu probably cost more than your yearly expanses.

literally darling and yan!femboy :

(art by : @chronocrump on twt)

divider by @.adornedwithlight & @.cafekitsune

[7-deadly-cats]

little suggestion for a extra scene, reader is at tannyhill when she gets her period, asks if Sarah is home (for supplies and what not) and rafe (not knowing the situation) gets all moody and pissed assuming that’s the only reason she was there and not to be with him. idk this situation just seems so perfectly awkward for the characters

BAHAHAH I LOVE THAT

i love writing tension and arguments between these two sm and getting to add awkwardness too??? HELL YEAH

and yes omfg rafe would get all frowning and pissed like ? how dare she come here and mention any other name besides his 😒

and as soon as rafe finds out about the problem he’s like oh😧 and then he’d look in the bathroom for supplies and he wouldn’t find them bc he’s stupid and reader’s like lemme look and he’s like fuck that, he WILL find them.

but he doesn’t and then he’s forced to call wheezie (or sarah idk what’s better) and get’s all scowling and dramatic as he finds the supplies in the most obvious place 🤣

anyway. i’ll see what i can do to make this scene fit in somewhere, otherwise that’s gonna be a post-kms extra 🤣

xx ᓚᘏᗢ

[avelera]

So now that I'm caught up on Interview with the Vampire (as of ep 2.5) I want to say a few words about the appearance of Raglan James, aka the antagonist in "The Tale of the Body Thief".

First, and on the most basic level, I lost my fucking mind when he showed up. Body Thief is perhaps a controversial installment of the Vampire Chronicles but it's actually one of my favorites (and I could write essays on why).

Once I was done screaming in delight at his appearance, I went looking to see the reaction of other book fans and here I must admit I am puzzled.

Many book fans here seem to think that Raglan James isn't what he appears. That he's Marius, or David Talbot, or Aaron Lightner, or some other book character in disguise.

I vehemently disagree with this both for Watsonian (in-universe) and Doylist (out-of-universe, practical) reasons.

Raglan James is Raglan James, the Body Thief, and I'm going to reiterate this a few times in explaining why I hold this view.

Now, to get into why I think the show is just giving us pre-canon Raglan James right now, and not already playing with his body jumping abilities by having him be someone like Marius:

When introducing a character who is effectively a shapeshifter, in this case the Body Thief himself, Raglan James, you actually do need to show him in his "normal" state first because not everyone in the audience is familiar with his ability because of the books. You have to introduce and build up this ability gradually because it's a very confusing ability for a visual medium to have a different actor playing the same character (and if you don't believe me, go check out some other famous shapeshifter characters like Mystique or The Doctor and see how carefully the narrative introduces and builds up how their power works, almost always starting by showing them in a normal "original" state as a baseline).

Showing him for the first time in another guise would only create confusion. We need to know who he is on his own before we can begin to play with the narrative. At most, I think his current form might be the body of his first "jump" into the body of his fellow inmate, but even then, I think that's something you save for later, when you introduce the ability he has. I really think we're actually seeing early or pre-canon, real Raglan (the one who had cancer) right now in his first original body. Honestly, I wouldn't even be surprised if Raglan doesn't have the ability yet and is building up towards achieving it. I think right now, he's just a normal, scummy, kleptomaniac Talamasca member.

Is "Raglan" his real name? Perhaps not, the man is an infamous con artist. But I took Daniel's skepticism to be more in line with "You made up a silly sounding name because you're a drama queen and great believer in your own legend. Your real name is probably something normal like "Bob', Raglan," rather than an invitation by the audience to assume that Raglan is, for example, Marius or another vampire in disguise.

My sense is that we're setting up Raglan to be the post-Queen of the Damned antagonist, just like he was in the books. But in order to introduce him to best effect then, instead of a totally confusing appearance out of left field (like he is in the book, tbh), it's actually very clever to introduce him now, early on, as a Talamasca member (or recently kicked out of it) before introducing him as the Body Thief. They're making him a normal, known member of the cast before they toss him out there as one of the most bizarre antagonists of the entire book series.

Personally, I think that Raglan is being introduced now as our first introduction to the Talamasca. The Talamasca is a very questionable organization on many levels, we are often meant to distrust them or view them with the same distrust as the supernatural creatures do who encounter them, despite the fact they're actually mostly benevolent in the books so the suspicion supernatural characters view with them often feels a bit excessive. So it makes sense that our first introduction to it is with a somewhat shady character, in order to justify the book levels of suspicion vampires and witches feel towards the Talamasca, because the first one of their members we meet is a con artist and a villain, even if later ones are mostly good guys.

Basically, I think instead of just introducing Raglan out of the blue after he's jumped bodies a couple times. Instead, we're going "back in time" so to speak, showing the prologue of his backstory and intertwining it with the main story so it's not so shocking when he shows up later as an antagonist.

For my money, Raglan hasn't been kicked out of the Talamasca yet or he has very recently been kicked out and is now hunting down Daniel on his own in order to get closer to his real targets, powerful vampires like Lestat or Armand. He's going to be a regular for a bit, a shadowy figure at the edges, perhaps drop away for a bit during the events of Queen of the Damned, and then come back as the main antagonist, with all the familiarity we have with him, after those events as the new antagonist.

And as for Marius... along similar lines of, "you have to show how something works before you break it / you have to show who a character is before you disguise them with a shapeshifter's abilities" IMO, when we see Marius, we're going to see Marius. We're going to see Armand's master in his original form. We're probably going to see him the way we first do in Queen of the Damned, busy tending the shrine of Those Who Must Be Kept.

I don't, for my money, think we're going to deviate so much that Marius is going to show up (except in flashbacks) just because the characters are talking about him.

The whole point of Lestat becoming a rock star, the whole justification for it in Queen of the Damned and the Vampire Lestat was to draw out all the vampires in his life, vampires he's missed like Louis and Armand and Marius. The whole point was to bring them to him.

Having Marius just randomly pick up that Louis and Armand are talking about him and then show up smacks of television coincidence. But the show's narrative is too carefully crafted for that.

So, in my opinion, Marius will be held in reserve. We will only see him in flashbacks at first, probably not until Season 3 so they can cast his actor for the whole season (nice thing about Raglan James, since he is a shapeshifter/body thief you can always recast him later once his plotline kicks off). Marius will emerge for the same reasons he did in the books, because that lends weight to Lestat's otherwise batshit insane plan to become a rockstar, because it might be crazy but it works.

Marius has no need to appear in the body of a human before that. It makes no sense from a television angle (where it only causes confusion) or from a story angle, because he'd have no reason to show up in Armand's life now when he hasn't done so before except that we've first learned about him in the show.

Obviously I could be completely wrong! It would be amusing to eat my words and it has admittedly been a very long time since I read all the books (though I read them over and over back when I did). But these are my lengthy two cents on the matter.

[radioroxx]

sniles at you so very sneetly. whos youre favorite ggg character :}

PUNCHING A WALL. BAD QUESTION (not serious) (being silly)

because. because. because. literally was going back n forth friends about how hard it is!!! to pick favourites with this game!! everyone was awesome. no joke no lie but you already know that. every character was pawesome and lovely

i aaam maybe a lil more bias to inspekta and bauhauzzo bc i voiced thems. and bc the….. bau huzzle sibbing dynamic is socutes….. so cutes….. wuaaahh

ALSO. KING. FFFUCK. ONE CHANCE KING 🙏 ONE CHA

[gods-favorite-autistic]

So funny to me how the until dawn game was just about the masked killer and those cannibal guys and the movie was just like “what if we made it about something entirely different and lost the entire plot”

[knightobreath]

i make robot ocs out of my and my friends electronics and a lot of them end up being apple stuff, notably iphones and ipads. and well, i need to populate their world MORE so i make some more characters of their ilk and.... i run into an issue. i will end up making a character that is say, an iphone4, and id have to find a way to fight that part of my brain that is DESPERATE to add in references to a certain show. and ill have to fight the part that had a previous project canned for being to similar to said show. even though these characters will never see the light of day and are entirely a for fun thing.

[coridallasmultipass]

Finally got around to buying the Nikke profile stickers I want since I keep drawing dupes! Bought all the Bow Wow Paradise ones!! It was one of my fave events bc I love dogs and dog girls and Happy Zoo and ESPECIALLY Biscuit so much. As you can see, I got all the 'dog' girls as my showcase team, too, lol:

Also, as an aside, I just got a new personal record in Overclock at level 16!! Which is why I remembered I needed to edit my profile when I went to check if it changed to 16 (I think I was at 12 maybe last time they ran Overclock in the Simulation Room).

[lokissweater]

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n—”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

————————————————————————

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

[unnamedcrane]

How 5am spends her time in Oak's (Horror's) garden:

~She steals any shiny things she sees around, as if she's some sort of crow. Oak is always very confused why she takes bottle caps and can tabs, but thinks it's cute so eventually he just starts to gather small things like that as trinkets for her.

~5am as a thank you brings him a bunch of little leaves/flowers/seeds whenever she comes around and while he doesn't necessarily have use for them, he always keeps them around his house - eventually his house just smells like a meadow.

~Funny thing is that it actually only starts after the one time he prepared a tea for her. A sunny day quickly turned into a huge rain... so she got a nice warm tea in a thimble.

She didn't quite got the "tea" concept and why did he do it, but afterwards she just started bringing him things so he can "make tea" for himself to "keep warm".

And that's all I have in my head rn I feel a weird headache coming on oops

You're making me crave fairies too AUGH JDCVKDNDNS littol fabric hoarding fairy,,,

What if I tell you you can be a pretty fairy and rizz up skeletons at the same time?

Just look at them!

This is how they spend their time together!!