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postracehair · 2 days ago

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say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

three times george curses. or, a beginning, a middle, and a future.

cw: george cursing. a few scrapes and a little bit of blood, some kissing, and a love confession to boot.

a/n: this kind of ran away from me, especially in the middle but every time george russell says fuck an angel gets its wings. written ages ago but posting in honor of Las Vegas.

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YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

You've only been here a few times, but a match day spent with your coworker and some of her friends is better than sitting on your couch alone, right? Wine and cookies in hand, you trudge up two flights of stairs to her flat. By the time you reach the landing, you can already hear the chatter and the TV.

No one seems to hear your knock so you push the door open and gingerly step in. The kitchen is on the other side of the flat, and you assume everyone is somewhere between there and the television.

But when you pass the living room where the TV actually is, there's just one guy on the couch. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees watching a penalty get called.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says to no one.

You snicker. He whirls around. "Hello," you say.

"Sorry," he says, standing immedietly. Wow, he's tall. "Sorry, hello."

Oh, and he's familiar. You know him, kind of. He's -- god, he races cars, right? Shit, what is his name? Your coworker has social connections you barely understand so it's not really a surprise to find someone who is probably famous in her flat.

"It is just you, then?" you ask. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Dressed in jeans and a team jumper, his casual outfit is at odds with the severe cut of his jaw, his cheekbones. He just looks expensive.

"No," he says. "No, everyone is putting plates together. I'm afraid I might be the one most interested in watching the match."

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

He rounds the sofa, hand out. "Could be better," he says. "I'm George."

You readjust the items in your hands to shake his and tell him your name. He repeats it, and you smile.

"Let me go put these down," you say, "and then, um. Do you want some company, George?"

Honestly, you're not sure where that came from. But, though you came here to escape the smothering loneliness of your own flat, something about him makes you want to stay here rather than go into the kitchen with everyone else.

"'Course I do," he says. "I promise to tighten up my language. Won't do for that to be my first impression."

You wave him away though your cheeks feel a little hot and head for the kitchen.

Your coworker brightens at seeing you and takes your hostess gifts with ease.

"The match is on in the other room," she tells you, "but most of us are drinking in here."

"I saw," you say. "I met George."

She hears something in your tone that turns her expression something between amused and calculating. "You did, did you?"

You just nod, loading up a plate with the various nibbles. "How do you know him, anyway?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know." No, you don't, but she plows on. "What did you think?"

"Taller than he seems on TV," you mutter. "But very polite. He shook my hand."

That gets her to laugh. "Oh, of course he did. Well, don't stand around in here with us. Go chat up a Formula 1 driver!"

George is back on the couch when you return, arm stretched over the back of it, brows furrowed.

"Has anything exciting happened?" you ask him, sitting down with a perfectly responsible distance between you.

He grimaces. "Nothing good. Wolverhampton, bless 'em, are quite bad."

That might explain why no one is watching this match with him, but you keep that to yourself.

"I see," you say, solemnly. "But loyalty is loyalty, I suppose, if they're your club."

"Exactly," George says. "It's suffering but it has to be done." Someone on the screen triggers a free kick and George leans in until it's over. He starts talking about one of the players being traded, or his contract being renegotiated, or something. You nibble on your plate and just watch. He's animated, this man. Fringe falling over his forehead the more he gestures, blue eyes wide and serious. It's all very endearing.

"Sorry," he says suddenly. "I'm being so rude. You don't want to hear about all of this, do you?"

You smile at him. "I don't mind. I came over for some company more than anything else."

He sinks back into the couch a little, hand running through his hair again. "Well, lucky for me that you did," he says.

Your face feels hot and you don't want to mistake this for flirting if it's not. He is a world-famous athlete, after all, but here you are on the couch next to him. "Lucky for you, indeed."

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

This is not how you saw your life going, but maybe that's just the nature of it. Big moments happen just the same as small ones and we have to handle them regardless. The trajectory of your life shifted just a little bit when you sat down on someone else's couch to watch a football match with a stranger.

Because that stranger -- George -- is now much more than that. He asked for your number that day before he had to leave earlier than everyone else, and has been speaking to you ever since. Texts, phone calls, FaceTimes. And, when he's not driving hundreds of miles an hour halfway across the world, he likes to spend time with you.

They're dates, you know they are. But things are still casual, immensely so. Coffee, dinner, long walks through the park. It's probably past due that you ask him what he'd like out of this, but your friends tell you to just have fun for the time being. You've learned a lot about him in the last month or so, both from him directly and by doing your research.

You'd watched a few Grand Prix before meeting him but not with any kind of rapt attention. Now, obviously, you watch with purpose. See him zip around the track, read his radio messages, hope desperately that he'll be alright. He's a big mix of things, George Russell. Witty but determined, thorough but reactionary, polite but intense. You want to keep getting to know him on a personal level and measure that up to how he appears to the world.

Today, you're on one of those long walks. George is recounting the last race at your request. It's always more interesting to hear him talk about what happened than watching it, though you're really growing to love that part, too.

It's a bit chilly and he's got a scarf on in addition to a nondescript hat pulled down low over his eyes. You're used to this by now, though you wish you could see his face more fully.

"And then -- well, I'm sure you saw this bit -- he turned right into me like I wasn't even there!"

"But you avoided it," you remind him. "I saw that, too." A cold wind blows down the path and you shiver a bit.

"You alright?" he asks. "Nippy, huh?" He stops walking and turns to you, his huge hands coming to rest on your shoulders before he rubs them up and down your arms.

"A bit," you agree, a little breathless. God, you really need to talk to him about what this is. You're thinking about him all the time, which is a bit of a nuisance, as you're not sure he's feeling the same. But, a small voice in your head tells you, you can't be too far off in thinking that it might be based on the way he's looking at you right now.

Even under the cap, you can see the soft set of his brow, the way his eyes are shining. The gentle quirk up of his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he let you?

George stops his warming efforts, catching your hands in his. "Better?"

All you can do is nod. He grins, looking a bit too pleased, and starts walking again, you in tow. This is something else you've learned about him -- he really can be a cheeky bastard. He must have more than some idea as to how he affects you and enjoys it. It's somewhere between a game and a challenge.

You're thinking about ways you can get him back, ways you can flirt mercilessly. His hand is in yours and he's half a step ahead of you when suddenly your fingers are ripped from his and you find yourself on your hands and knees with a gasp.

George is immediately there with you.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I--" You're a bit too stunned to say anything. George rarely curses, which is funny given how you met, but it unsettles you a little bit as much as it warms you. "I think I tripped?"

"Let me see your hands," he says, gently tugging at your wrists with his long fingers. He sucks on his teeth when he sees your palms. "Not too bad, but a little scratched."

You rearrange yourself so you're flat on your bum, legs in front of you. Your hands might be alright but your knees are another story. The fabric of your jeans isn't ripped but you can see the bloodstains already.

"Oh," you say. You look up at George, feeling a bit pathetic. "This is embarrassing."

He scoffs. "No, it's not," he says. "I do think we should get you cleaned up, though."

"We can go to my place," you suggest. The sting sets in a little more, but mingles with your chagrin and you just set your jaw. "Help me up?"

"Brave girl," George says. He presses his lips to the base of your wrist and stands, tugging you up as he goes. "Have you got first aid things at your flat?"

You nod, running through the contents of your bathroom in your mind. It occurs to you that George has not been to your place before, and you did not mentally prepare yourself to bring him there today.

George gently says your name. "Let's get a cab, shall we?"

It takes no time at all to flag one down. George removes his hat in what you can clearly see as an effort to get the cabbie to hurry along a bit, but it seems to work. He takes one look at you, one more at George, and steps on it.

"Let me get your belt," George mutters, making quick work of the buckle.

"I don't think I've ever worn a seatbelt in a cab in my life, George," you reply. He just pats your thigh.

"Think we've had enough injuries for one day, don't you?"

George and the cabbie chat about the race season, about how hot it really is in Singapore, about one of George's recent podiums. He keeps you tucked into his side the whole time -- he's ignored his own seatbelt, you notice -- hand on your thigh. You keep your palms turned up on your knees and wonder how on earth you got here.

The city flies by and you lean your head on his shoulder. You can feel something shifting between you, something clicking into place that wasn't entirely settled before. It's scary, it's exciting, it's big. It's something you're going to have to talk about.

George pays the driver in some large bills and helps you out of the cab and up the steps of your building.

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

"Pardon my reach," he jokes, and lightly rests on palm on your hip and slides the other into your pocket to find them. He tugs the keyring out and winks at you before unlocking the door. Up the stairs, into the flat. Shoes toed off, coats on the hook after George helps you out of yours.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," you tell him. He clicks his tongue.

"We don't want blood on this nice coat of yours, do we?"

You roll your eyes. George glances around your flat and smiles. "This is very you."

Dishes on the counter, the pillows a mess on the couch, your books and trinkets on every flat surface -- you suppose he's right.

"Thank you?" you say. He taps your chin with his knuckle.

"It feels like a home, I mean." Your cheeks feel warm and your heart sighs. God, the things he says.

"Oh," you breathe. "That's kind."

"And does this home have a first aid kit?" The reminder brings the dull sting of your scraped skin back to the forefront of your mind.

"Bathroom cabinet," you tell him. George nods.

"I'll get that. Why don't you change into something loose so I can get to your knees?"

In your room, you tug carefully tug on some sweatpants, mindful of your palms, and let yourself marvel at how today has gone. You expected to have George here someday, but certainly not like this. Will he want to see your bedroom? You shove some dirty laundry into the hamper and thank past you for making the bed this morning.

"I think you should sit on the counter," George calls. "Whenever you're ready."

You pad out to meet him in socked feet. It's quite the sight, him in your kitchen. He's bent over your sink, washing his hands. His sweater has been tossed over a chair and you can see the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

"Do you need help getting up?" he asks. You nod. Together, you get yourself on the counter, making you about eye level.

"Hello," you say. His hat is gone, too, so his fringe falls across his forehead in slightly curled strands. When you've cleaned yourself up, maybe you'll work up the courage to run your hand through them.

"Hello yourself. Right hand, please." You hold out your palm and George gets to work. He cleans it, getting all the bits from your skin, and then uses an alcohol wipe.

"Do you have a special interest in first aid, or something?" you ask to distract yourself from the sting. His thumb strokes your pulse point as he works.

"I guess you get beat up a bit in karting when you're young," he says. He wraps one palm in gauze and moves onto the other. "I suppose i just like knowing how to take care of people."

"God," you groan. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

He looks at you then, hair falling into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh," he smirks. "Plenty, darling." He finishes up on your other palm and holds it in his for a moment longer than you expect. Then he slowly brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the bandage.

You might gasp, You're not entirely sure, eyes glued to his lips like nothing else exists. Then he kisses the other palm. Your gaze flicks up and George is looking right at you.

"Knees," he says, voice a little hoarse. "Alright?"

"Alright," you breathe. You stick one leg out just to see what he'll do. You're learning that he rises to the occasion, and that's exactly what happens. He cups your ankle, places your foot on his thigh, and slides your sweatpants up above your joint.

"That's gnarly," he says, breaking the tension. You laugh and tap his leg with your other foot. "You ready?"

"I'm ready."

He makes quick work on it. One hand on your calf, the other gently cleaning and bandaging. The silence is comfortable, familiar, though you've not been in this situation before. It's not until George is almost done with your other knee that he speaks.

"You know," He says, lightly. "If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask. The tripping wasn't entirely necessary."

"George!" you gasp. He squeezes your calf.

"I'm just saying, darling."

He ties off the gauze and rolls down your pant leg. You widen your knees and he steps between them immediately, hands resting gently on your thighs. It's absolutely electric -- going from shy, appropriate touches to being in your flat together, his hands all over you. How are you going to go back?

Maybe you can't.

George's eyes rake over your face. You inhale his exhales, feeling them on your lips. His pupils dilate.

"What is this, George?" you whisper. His fingers press into your thighs a little harder.

"Well," he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly. He is not dissuaded, does not back away. He must know that this is hard for you -- his life is so different from yours. As it is, you avoid social media so you don't see pictures of you splashed across gossip accounts. It's impossible to totally stay away from it but you try, because you really like being with him.

"Shall I tell you what it is for me?" George says.

You nod.

He cups your face in his hands, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under your eyes.

"Every second I am not with you I am thinking about when I'll see you next," he says. "I store up things to tell you and take photos to show you and I have a bag full of things I've bought you but been too afraid to give you. Beautiful things, things that remind me of you."

"George--"

"I worry about fucking up your life," he continues, and you fall silent. "This is a lot. I am a lot. My life is not simple, and you've already seen that. But I want you in it. I want you in it however you want to be there, though I have my suggestions. I promise that if you let me, I'll treat you so well, because you deserve everything, and --"

Your heart is going to explode if he goes on any longer, so you close the gap between you and kiss him. Finally.

It's just the press of your lips against his for a few seconds, your eyes fluttering shut, before George catches up to what's happening and angles your faces a little bit to make it deeper. Your bandaged hands rest on his elbows and you swallow a sound from deep in his throat, something that lights a fire in your belly.

"Blimey," George says, leaning your foreheads together.

"What, no curse for me?"

His eyes sparkle and he wrinkles his nose at you. "Fuck," he says. "I've been thinking about that for weeks."

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "That's more like it."

BLOODY HELL

What the fuck was that? Is he serious? Keep focused, George. This is fucking ridiculous. Head down.

It's a bad day. Not as bad as it could be -- George does not end up in the wall. But he ends up way further down the pack than he should, barely scraping together a few points. It's the car and everyone knows it. The bouncing, the drag, the understeer. A showing far too poor for this late in the season.

And George is pissed. It's not often that you see him this way -- he's fairly levelheaded, even when things get tough. Something about him causes conflict to lull, things to fall into place, but even that can't fix the silver arrow.

You slip out of the garage during the last lap to sit in his driver's room and wait.

This isn't your first race. Far from it, by now. Things got official halfway through the season after that day in your flat, and you've been coming to as many as you can. It's a rush, really, to see him work. Scarier than anything, but when it's good? It's amazing. You love the energy of the garage and everyone seems to have taken to you, too.

So much so that they know to send George right to his room before the media pen so you can calm him down.

You sit on the bench and wait.

He comes in, closing the door firmly but never slamming it, and sighs. All the tension melts from his body and he looks defeated. Sweaty, annoyed, and defeated.

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

You love how George looks after a race. Hair a mess from his helmet, skin beaded with sweat. He unzips his race suit and lets it hang at his hips and you can see the outline of his muscles through his fireproofs. It's genuinely swoonworthy, even with his visibly bad mood.

"Are you alright?" you ask. He shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and winces.

"Bloody hell," he curses. "My back is killing me."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he says automatically. "You're perfect just as you are."

It's a reflex he has -- not to ask for things. You're still working it out, poking and prodding to find the cracks. Maybe, with time, he'll loosen this grip he has on his desire to make your life as comfortable and wonderful as possible without thinking of himself. There are moments when it's best to just let him fuss, but right now you think you can push back a little.

"George," you sigh. "Come on."

He hides his face behind a sweat towel for a breath, then tosses it aside. "Alright," he says. "Just sit with me for a bit."

You scoot over on the bench and he flops next to you, head back against the wall and eyes closed. His hand fumbles around for yours, pinching your thigh when he overshoots, which makes you laugh. He cracks a smile and opens one eye just enough to see your grin before settling back into his rest.

He breathes deeply, fingers entwined with yours. The line of his jaw is pronounced in the awful lighting of the room and the shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. A few more races and then he can rest. What will you do in the off season? Maybe a vacation. Hopefully a vacation. You imagine George in swim trunks on a beach somewhere, dozing in the sand. Rubbing sun tan lotion on his back and his shoulders and his nose, reading books for hours until he convinces you to run into the water. Lazy days on a balcony or in a bed with all the windows open, never being far from each other --

Someone knocks on the door.

"Christ," George mutters. "Let's ignore it."

"You need to go to the pen, darling," you whisper back. He squeezes your hand and presses your legs together.

"Just a few more minutes," he says. "Eventually they'll just come in."

"If you say so."

You press a kiss to his tacky cheek and lean your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

George takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says.

The words stretch into the silence that comes after, the moments it takes for you to process it. They fill the small room, sneak their way into your bloodstream, your lungs, all the way to your heart.

Part of you is waiting for the follow-up. I know it's too early, I know it's a lot, You don't have you say it back. But George doesn't deal in excuses. He feels it, so he says it.

You lift your head to look at him and find him already staring at you. Not expectant, just looking to look.

"I love you, George," you say.

He grins bigger than you've ever seen, bigger than after your first kiss, than the days when he's on the podium.

Someone knocks on the door again.

"Oh, piss off," he mutters and leans in to kiss you.

#george russell x reader #george russell #george russell fanfic #gr63 x reader #f1 fanfic #gr63 #my writing #fic: say again

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creamflix · 2 days ago

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Hehehe I've been reading your works and everything is hella good, i love it frfr.

To ur Christmas event thingy,

Can i have Veritas Ratio with midnight kisses as nuaghty(😼)?

(Hehehe am i the first one to request? Loll)

Live, love, life ratio

♡

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here!

the room was bathed in the soft glow of christmas lights, the air heavy with the quiet anticipation of the season. you’d spent the past hour trying — and failing — to convince VERITAS to partake in some holiday cheer, and now, your last resort was a simple request: a kiss on christmas eve.

“traditions,” he said, voice laced with disdain, “are little more than collective idiocy. a societal crutch for the unimaginative.”

you pouted, crossing your arms as you stood before him. “it’s not idiocy. it’s festive! romantic, even.”

“and you think coaxing me into this nonsense will somehow complete your holiday experience?”

“yes,” you replied stubbornly. “it’s christmas eve! you’re supposed to kiss your lover.”

he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “if a man must rely on a contrived pretext to kiss his partner, he’s a fool. but —” he paused, his gaze darkening as it settled on you.

“i am not so heartless as to deny you. i accept... as would any man.”

your heart leaped as he rose from his seat, the predatory grace in his movements sending a shiver down your spine.

“finally!” you beamed, stepping closer. “see? it’s not so bad.”

his smirk was slow, deliberate. “don’t celebrate just yet. you asked for a kiss, you’ll get a kiss. but i don’t intend to indulge this... lightly.”

before you could fully process his words, he pulled you to him with a firm hand on your waist, the heat of his touch instantly scattering your thoughts. his lips descended on yours, and the kiss was anything but festive — it was consuming. deliberate. the kind of kiss that demanded surrender.

you tried to keep up, your eagerness slipping into clumsy enthusiasm, but he pulled back just enough to chuckle against your lips.

“stumbling already? have you been this impatient all night?” his voice was low, teasing, and threaded with dark amusement. “perhaps i need to teach someone a lesson.”

his other hand slid up your back, fingers curling possessively as he tilted your head back, exposing you further to him. “a christmas eve kiss,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “should be unforgettable, don’t you agree? and if you’re going to plead for my participation, i expect you to do it properly.”

the words sent heat coursing through you, your body pressing closer to his as your breathing quickened. his lips found yours again, this time slower but no less intense, drawing every ounce of focus from you.

“such impatience,” he murmured between kisses, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before pulling you into another. “you wanted this. now keep up.”

your hands gripped at his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your jaw, nipping and kissing with a precision that left you trembling. “i wasn’t... expecting —” you started, but his mouth covered yours again, silencing any protests with a kiss that was pure dominance.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and heart racing. his smirk widened as he took in your dazed expression.

“that,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “is how a true kiss should be. tradition or not.”

you stared at him, still catching your breath. “you’re... insufferable.”

“and yet,” he said, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips, “you begged for this. merry christmas, my love.”

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lillaydee · 3 days ago

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The Arrangement Part 9

Frontier! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

I think i need to preface this chapter by saying I'M SORRY. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 8

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You heard him come out of his room, and heard splashes of water, probably cleaning himself. And then, there was silence, and after a few moments, some quiet sobs and sniffles.

Was he… crying?

What was going on?

You heard his footsteps heading towards your room. You pressed your body tight against the door, worried that he might try to open the door. You were not scared of him, exactly. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he didn’t mean for things to go the way it did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to face him at that moment. You could feel him press himself against your door, whispering your name, his sniffs evident, his breathing heavy.

He stood there a while, but eventually he went into his room and shut the door. You waited a long time, not daring to go out in case he came out. What would you say to him? How could you look him in the eyes again?

Eventually, you went out, washcloth in hand. You could hear his bed creak slightly, as if he sat up to listen to you. You wet the washcloth, wiping yourself. An involuntary hiss came out your mouth from the sting, the light-coloured washcloth evident with blood, even in the low light. You knew that would happen, of course. Your friends, the ladies you lived with, alluded to it sometimes.

Of all the stories you had heard over the years, you gathered that women would belong in one of three categories when it came to intimacy with their husbands.

There were those who gushed about the experience. How life changing it was. How they could not imagine living without it. How it brought them closer as a couple. How much the experience made their lives so much better. How mind blowing. How they never knew ecstasy before then. How in love they were with their husbands.

There were also those who seemed nonchalant about it all. How their lives were unchanged by it. How they didn’t think much of it, neither enjoying it too much nor hating it. How their relationships with their husbands were as it were. How their lives moved on with or without it. How it could sometimes be good, but not so good at other times. How sometimes they come to a finish, whatever that meant, but mostly not. How they tolerate their husbands.

And then, there were those who feared the experience. How painful it was. How they were glad they only needed to do it until they were with child. How they would be glad to live the rest of their lives without going through that again. How it made them fear their husbands. How much worse their lives had become because of it. How annoying. How they had never known pain like that before. How much they resent their husbands.

These were often the women who were glad that brothels existed.

You had always connected the difference between these three groups of women with how they felt for their husbands, when it came to intimacy. Basically, you believed that if they were in love, the intimacy would be great. Being in love, to you, meant there was a spark, a connection on a deeper level. Which, up until now, you thought you had with Joel. So, in your fantasies, you believed that since you felt so strongly for your husband, and believed that he did for you too, the intimacy would be wonderful. That you would belong in the first group.

Obviously, that was all in your head.

**********

You laid in bed, still digesting the happening in the next room. And suddenly, you came to a realization.

He did you a favour by marrying you. Because of this marriage, you now had a roof over your head. Because of this marriage, you were living a happy life in this wonderful new town, making friends, having hobbies, a family of your own. Because of this marriage, you were not back in your old town working for pennies and scraps for something to eat. Because of this marriage, you had the pleasure of his companionship, this man who you now cannot imagine life without.

Sure, he touched you. Showed affection for you. But maybe that’s just what a good husband would do. And he promised you that he would be one for you.

He had kept every single one of his promises. He had treated you well. He had given you everything you asked for. He had never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. He had supported you in whatever you wanted to do. He had been a good husband. He provided for you, protected you, was faithful to you. You trusted him. You knew he would never deliberately hurt you.

So the intimacy was not what you had imagined it would be. Was that so bad? Surely there was more to life than that? Those ladies you had known - even those in the third category - their lives were not miserable as far as you could tell. They lived their lives, persevering, even under the shadow of bad, painful intimacy. And you knew for a fact that their husbands were nothing like Joel. He never laid a rough hand on you. He never raised his voice at you.

See? You had it better than them, at least.

This was your own fault. You expected too much.

You let yourself get lost in the situation you were in, the good that these two months had brought you made you believe this was real.

You forgot yourself. You were not the chosen bride whom his heart beat for.

He married you for the convenience of having someone to care for his daughter, for his household.

This disappointment was your own doing.

You let yourself fall in love with him.

You turned on your side, staring at Ellie’s empty crib. You heart felt as if someone was squeezing it tight. And despite all the things you told yourself, you cried yourself to sleep that night, finally accepting that this was how things would go, that this marriage will never be more than that.

Just an arrangement.

**********

You woke up early the next day. Your sleep troubled by the images of Joel marrying a faceless woman next to your grave, the soil still red, passionately kissing her, his hands all over her body. Your face was wet with your tears, the ones you shed in your sleep.

Your body was wet with sweat. You opened the window to let the cold morning spring air in, the sun just peeking its head somewhere. You sat on your bed, mulling over how you planned to go about being in his presence that day, and the day after that, and the day after that, for the rest of your life. Could you ever look him in the eyes again? You honestly could not imagine going about life without having a constant dose of those brown eyes of his.

So, you decided there and then. When this arrangement began, you told yourself that you would be the best wife you could be to him. And that’s what you were going to do. You’re going to get up and be Joel Miller’s wife. He had kept up his end of the bargain, you should too.

You hissed as you relieved yourself that morning, the pain was searing. No matter. This was fresh. You will go to the doctor if it doesn’t improve. But that might alert Liv and Diana. You must not let them know. You shouldn’t shame your husband like that. He didn’t do this on purpose.

The door to the house opened as you made your way back from the outhouse, a frantic Joel looking relieved when he saw you. His demeanour was awkward, his eyes studying the way you were walking, worry clouding his face. He asked if you were alright, his eyes looking beyond yours, as if trying to read your mind. You gave him a smile, telling him you were alright, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. You went into the kitchen and began lighting the fire, taking a bucket and filling it with water before filling the pot with it, going outside to brush your teeth and wash your face, getting some bacon from the ice box for his breakfast.

The water had started boiling when you finally realized he was still standing there in the living room, just watching you, his face unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, placing the pan on the stove, moving to get the kettle to make his coffee.

He hesitated, before asking you if you were alright again.

“I’m fine. You should get ready. I’ll start making breakfast.”

He stood there for a good few minutes before finally moving, looking defeated.

You prepared his breakfast and Ellie’s formula, some rice flour and squashed peaches added into it, before going over to Maria’s to get her. She was happy to see you, squealing excitedly in your arms. You kissed her over and over, taking in the sleepy, milky, musky smell of her little head, realizing that you missed her.

Another reason to just persevere. You could not imagine your life without this sweet little girl.

Joel immediately took Ellie from you when you got home, showering Ellie with kisses, taking her outside to feed her, cooing and talking to her the entire time, softly laughing at her ‘replies’, clearly missing her too. Before he went to work, he stood in front of the door, looking unsure on his feet, telling you he’s going, so you brought Ellie to him for him to say goodbye. After giving her so many kisses, he hesitated a bit before bending down to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, put his hat on and left.

You told yourself that this didn’t mean anything. Of course it would be awkward. The two of you took a step into a new level of intimacy last night. It’s to be expected.

Right?

**********

Things were like that for about three days. He hardly spoke to you, and you to him. The two of you merely existed and danced around each other. You still sent him his drinks and snacks, kept him company when he was working, read to him at night. But it was with an air of unease that suffocated you both. He kept his distance from you, only kissing you on the cheek when saying hello or goodbye, and immediately took a step back when done. He hardly looked you in the eye anymore, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you whenever you were not looking.

There were no sitting on the bench looking at the view with your arms around each other. He didn’t hold your hands when you went on your evening walks with Ellie together. Every bit of conversation revolved around Ellie, to her, about her. It was as if your relationship had taken a step back, and you felt horrible for it.

By the fourth day, you were no longer in pain when you relieved yourself. Everything went back to normal. But he was still keeping his distance from you. You decided to take matters into your own hands and gave him a quick kiss on his lips before he left for work that morning, making him flinch, keeping his body away from you. But it was an improvement over the last few days, so you didn’t say anything.

That evening, when the three of you were preparing to leave for your walk, you made the effort to place your arm in the crook of his as he held Ellie. He didn’t protest, although the smile he gave you was a bit hesitant. But your arm did remain there for the rest of the walk, and that evening, after Ellie was down, the two of you did sit together to look at the view, albeit not touching.

It took a few more days of that before the awkwardness became unnoticeable. But there was no more hugging, no more passionate kissing on the lips. Your conversations went back to normal, the two of you were laughing again, joking with each other, but his head had remained on his pillow during the reading sessions, and lip kisses remained chaste.

You and the ladies were talking one day, when the dreaded subject alluding to intimacy was brought up. Liv was talking about her excitement to move into her house, just a week or so from completion now. Diana made a comment about how relieving it would be to not to have to worry about boxes and wooden trunks falling on them when they were in the throes of intimacy with their husbands in the wagon.

Oh, the wagon rocking suspiciously and everyone would know what you were doing! Liv added, and everyone laughed, nodding their heads enthusiastically. Even you played along, not wanting any awkward questions to be asked your way. Maria chimed in with something along the lines of maybe settling for being a bit boring and just lying there quietly for a while, and maybe not be too enthusiastic, and Liv said something about not being a boring wife in the bedroom.

They were all laughing until they were bent double. You laughed along, as if it was the funniest thing you had ever heard, but that night, you laid awake to a horrible realization.

What if you were just horrible in bed? Was that why Joel no longer initiated anything with you?

Oh God. No.

**********

That thought didn’t leave your head for days. When you think of the way he couldn’t get enough of touching you before, it made you think that having you that one time turned him off. Did he not like it? Sure, it wasn’t good for you, but surely it would have been good for him, nonetheless? He did… finish, if you were correct in that assumption.

So why did he not want to touch you? Was he… disgusted by you?

You were so worried by this change, your body had become attuned to any movements from him, any pauses, even any sounds that came from his room. You were awoken one night by the sound of him leaving the house. He was careful about it, his steps careful, his movements light, making sure the door didn’t creak too much. You brushed it off that night, maybe he was just using the outhouse?

But then it happened again the next night, and the night after that.

The fourth night was a rainy one. So you placed a chamber pot in his room, not wanting him to run out in the rain. Even in full spring, Jackson was a cold place at night. The last thing you wanted was for him to get sick. But even amidst the pitter patter of the rainfall, you could hear him leave the house.

Worried, you went out of your room and peeked through the window. You saw him move towards the other side of the house, opposite to the outhouse. You heard him outside, through the wall, behind the house, near the kitchen window. He had stopped walking. What was he doing? You went to the kitchen window, careful not to let him notice you, and peeked through the gap in the curtain.

He was standing next to the laundry table he had built for you, parts of him hidden from view by the table and the barrel he had placed there. His back was to you. His hand was moving furiously in his trousers, his head up to the clouds. You could hear his heavy breathing, even with the rain.

It didn’t take you long to realize what he was doing.

You were frozen. You took your eyes off him, you thought, but you still saw him. You saw his body stiffen and bent over, holding his trousers down for a bit, before rinsing his hands in the rain and tying his trousers back up, settling his breathing, his hands laid on the laundry table while he caught his breath. You were too shocked to move fast enough back to your room, and he entered the house just as you got to your door.

He looked flushed, shocked, like a thief caught red handed.

“What are you doing up?” he asked you.

“Just thirsty,” you honestly shocked yourself at how easy that lie came out of your mouth. “Where did you go?”

“Outhouse.”

“Oh, I put the chamber pot in your room,” you can’t help but notice how flustered he got, how much he didn’t want to be there being questioned by you.

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

You wanted to comment on the lack of water he had on his person despite his claim of walking to and back from the outhouse, but you just told him to dry himself before going back to bed. You closed the door behind you and laid in bed, watching Ellie sleep.

He didn’t want you anymore. He would rather leave the house in the pouring rain to relieve his needs with his own hand than be with you.

You cried yourself to sleep again that night.

**********

That Saturday, he told you he had a job to do in town, asking you if you would like to come with him. You needed groceries, so you nodded and got ready to go, Ellie strapped to your chest since he would be working. You spent the entire journey to town in silence, you even sat far enough from him to for another person to sit in between.

It was as if you gave up. You felt defeated. You shouldn’t have asked him to take you that night. All this could have been avoided if only you had just kept your naughty thoughts to yourself. Before that night, you had a man who cared a lot about you. Now, he was but a husband who lived with you.

After you saw him that night, you distanced yourself emotionally and physically from him. You remained the devoted wife on the surface, keeping him company, cooking and cleaning for him, reading to him, going on walks with him. You were never rude or angry, you remained the gentle person that you were with him. But you didn’t touch him, just as he didn’t touch you. You didn’t talk to him unless necessary, nor him to you. His nightly habits remained, you still heard him leaving at night. Coming back after a while and snoring not long after. Good for him, getting the release he needed.

You knew it was petty. You knew you shouldn’t do it. But you found your heart hurting every time he kissed you on the cheek, or even touched you, remembering the kisses and touches he used to give you before that fateful night. Before he drew back ten steps. Before everything became awkward. So you withdrew, no more touching, no more kisses hello and goodbye. If you didn’t have it any longer, eventually, you wouldn’t miss it, right?

The first time you didn’t kiss him goodbye, he lingered, waiting for you to do so. When he stepped forward to do it instead, you used Ellie’s fussing as an excuse to take her inside for a nappy change. The second day, he moved to kiss you first, but you turned and busied yourself clearing the table. He stopped trying on day three.

You didn’t even know if he was affected by it, if he noticed. You didn’t look him in the face anymore. You couldn’t. It hurt. What if the longing looks and yearning smiles were no longer on it? What if his warm, kind, brown eyes were now filled with emptiness for you, or, even worse, coldness? How could you live like that? And if they were still there, what if you gave in, fell deeper for him, only to feel so rejected again?

Most of all, you just felt stupid. Two months of connecting, getting to know one another, gone just like that. All because you needed intimacy.

Stupid, stupid!

You were jolted back to reality when the wagon stopped in front of the grocers. You climbed down yourself, his steps stopping as he ran around the wagon to help you when he saw you had done it yourself. He placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money to hand to you, but you instead of taking it, brushing hands with him, you held your hand out, palm up for him to place the money on it. When his fingers almost brushed your palm, you jerked back, causing the money to fall to the ground, and you quickly bent down to get it, holding Ellie steady, before scrambling up to get to the grocers.

You didn’t know why you were being so petty. Truth was, you were worried that if you let him touch you again, you would turn to stone. Your heart hurt. And every time he showed you any form of gestures at all, you just felt it hurt even more, knowing that he didn’t want you anymore. You had to find a way to live with that. And so far, this pettiness, it’s making the hurt more bearable.

You went about the town going to different stores to place your order, setting whatever you had picked up in the wagon before moving along to another store. Just as you were getting the last of your orders, Esther came out of the tavern to sweep something into the street, her eyes looking you up and down in disgust, before looking at something behind you, sneering, and telling you that her guess was right. You were not good enough for him after all.

You turned around and saw Joel come out of the brothel, his toolbox in hand, Rose accompanying him, shaking his hand. You rolled your eyes at Esther, he was doing his job, you menace, you thought. You climbed back into the wagon, just as Joel placed his toolbox in the back before climbing into the driver’s seat. You let him coo at Ellie for a while, sitting right next to him as Esther watched smugly, letting the wagon get out of sight before moving away from him as you did before.

You nodded when he asked you if you got everything you needed. The rest of the ride home was quiet.

That night, after you read him the next chapter, you closed the book and quietly got up to go into your own room.

“Elena,” his voice came to you. You turned, eyes on the mattress rather than at him, and answered “Yes?”

He didn’t say anything, but he fidgeted a little bit, before saying goodnight. You nodded and left the room.

**********

The next morning, you went about your routine as usual. Making him his breakfast, getting Ellie ready for the day, feeding her, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, keeping yourself busy, trying hard not to think about the way things were in your marriage. Joel busied himself with the horses, doing some yard work, fetching the water, mending the wagons, before telling you that he had to go to a house near the edge of town for a job after lunch. You nodded, your hands kept busy ladling out some porridge for lunch, placing the bowl in front of him and setting yourself down with Ellie to feed her.

When he finished eating, he made to clear his bowl, but you gently took it from him and washed it yourself. He stood around watching you, fidgeting with his hat, before finally putting it on and leaving. He walked, you noticed, rather than taking the wagon. About half an hour passed before you noticed that his tool box was still at home. Maybe the house had their own tools for him to use? You had your own lunch, and put Ellie down for a nap, before settling down to begin cutting the materials for your new client’s dress.

Maria and Liv came knocking, Maria telling you she forgot that it was Tommy’s birthday the next day. Could you come with her to town? She needed to buy him something, and maybe get something from the bakers? You told her Ellie was sleeping, but Liv told you to go, she could stay with Ellie. Will was working anyway, building something for their newly completed house. So you went with Maria, the two of you walking leisurely, catching up with each other.

She got Tommy a new leather pouch for his money, his was too ratty, she said. As the two of you made your way out from the bakers on the way home, you ran into Tess, arm in arm with a man you had never met. She introduced both of you to her husband, Max. They both looked so happy. Apparently, Max had to follow the Red Cross wagon for a while before arriving in New York, before finally managing to settle and get a job to buy a land. He told you he was looking for men to build, and Tess said that the Miller men could do that? He would be willing to pay. There was no way he could build on his own, not in the time he needed to get the house done, he said.

You and Maria told him you could ask your husbands, they were about to start another build in a day or two, but you will let him know. His land was just a few lots away from the Millers, apparently, so it would be great if they could help him out. As you were talking, Tess suddenly froze. You followed her line of sight and saw him, all the way at the end of the row of stores. It was far, but you would know him anywhere.

Your husband, sans toolbox. Walking out of the brothel with Rose. His face flushed, his hand rubbing his neck, smiling shyly at her, while she gave him a kiss on his cheek, rubbing his arm up and down, a huge smile on her face.

Your body went numb. Cold. Frozen.

The good news was your heart no longer hurt.

The bad news was it had completely shattered.

Gone.

Millions of tiny sharp pieces filling the cavity of your chest.

Your legs stopped working. Tess and Maria caught you by the arms. Maria looked livid. She made to go to him, but you told her no. Just, please, you needed to get out of here, please. Max immediately helped you up onto his stripped-up wagon, Maria climbing in after you, Max telling Tess he will see her later that day.

As Max got ready to start the ride, Joel turned his head and saw you.

To say his face turned chalk white would be an understatement. He walked towards the carriage, his strides long and fast, before breaking into a small run. Tess told Max to go. Now, go.

Joel broke into a run, running after the carriage to the edge of the town, calling your name desperately, as his panicked face got blurry from the heartbroken tears filling your eyes.

Part 10

#joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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backofthebookshelf · 11 hours ago

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Another thing I find fascinating about Beholding specifically is - the pursuit of knowledge is not an inherently unhealthy or exploitative way to manage your relationships with the world! It *can* be, sure - but where is the line? Where does "I need to know what that was so it never happens to me again" turn into "I need you to relive the worst thing that ever happened to you so I can feel safe"? Where does it cross the line? Is it when you ask someone else about their experience? When you encourage someone who's reluctant to talk? Obviously at some point Jon developed an unhealthy relationship with the statements, but was that when he started intentionally seeking out live statements? When he got weak and shaky without them? When he realized he knew which statements were real? When he joined the Magnus Institute because even though Mr Spider was the only supernatural encounter he'd had in his life he still couldn't let it go?

Slippery slope is a logical fallacy because it's often used to connect things that have no inherent connection, but when it's tiny steps towards something that you can't see coming that's just... normalization. The Overton window shifting. Normal human adjustment to difficult circumstances.

Jon absolutely chose a lot of the steps that put him on the path to S4 and Scrutiny (his low point, I think, although Jordan Kennedy's domain is fighting for that spot). He didn't choose them knowing where they would lead, but most of us don't; I don't think Jonah did either, to be honest, I think he just was less unhappy with the results. But what's so fascinating to me is, absent the foreknowledge of the plot and the awareness that it's a horror tragedy story, it's impossible to say where he absolutely should have turned back before it was too late. Hell, even once he's fully tied to Beholding, it's impossible to say when he's definitely, absolutely causing more harm than doing good by attempting to understand and stop what's happening.

So yes, he was manipulated, and he chose it, and he didn't know it was dangerous until he did, and he didn't realize how harmful it was until he did, and he could have stopped but at such a cost that very few people can really argue it was a reasonable thing to expect anyone to do, but he didn't. There's a line there, somewhere, but it's not a clear one and there's no clear way to avoid getting there either.

That's why I love tragedy, I think. Because it's actually really common to find yourself, through no particular ill will on your part or anyone else's, in a situation of your own making where the only choices you have are between bad and worse. And that doesn't make you a terrible person or absolve you of blame; it doesn't mean you shouldn't try to invent better choices or make sure the same thing doesn't happen again, but it doesn't mean it's possible to do anything that won't make you hate yourself a little. That, as Picard says, is not failure. It's life.

readings of the podcast which try to frame jon as having been tragically manipulated and forced through every decision by elias are of no interest to me. because it's not true, is it. when elias tells him in mag 92 "you always chose to see," he's being cruel, yes. victim blaming him, even. but to completely disregard it as an attempt at manipulation would be a mistake. much of the podcast is about exploiting people's trauma. as i've said before, jon's role as head archivist, back when it was still presented as a mundane office job to the audiences, and he hadn't developed any beholding powers yet, involved filing away statement givers' trauma without offering help of any kind. the institute subsists on this form of exploitation, in a literal sense obviously, because it's a temple to the eye. but even if you take that reveal away, it's also true in simply an administrative sense in season one. and jon used to ruthlessly dismiss every single statement giver with as much apathy as he could muster (while knowing that if a statement doesn't record digitally, then it's the truth), and note that faking skepticism was a form of coping mechanism for him, it was the choice between making statement givers feel small or making himself feel vulnerable—and is this not simply the bureaucratic version of what he does later as a supernatural avatar of the beholding, vampirically feeding on people's terror to stay alive or risk being consumed by the eye?

(Season 3) MAG 117 - "Testament" // (Season 4) MAG 142 - "Scrutiny"

of course, i'm not saying he bought it on himself, that he deserved to be put in an impossible situation later for being an arse in season one. jon too, has had his trauma exploited in the form of a guest for mr spider, an experience which eventually led him to the magnus institute where he would help fulfill the web's designs. so, in the grand scheme of things everyone was puppeteered by forces beyond their control, but would you excuse jonah for eveything he's ever done because of it? then why must jon be rendered completely non-agentic? yes, elias manipulated him, but he has never had to straight up coerce jon into anything. jon's just always done what's been expected of him. because they're alike. their shared desire for knowledge originates from fear. jon always chose to see because something had hurt him once and he needed answers, and we can assume jonah chose the beholding because it was the only entity which would expose him to information on all the other fears. knowledge is a means of survival for both of them, an inclination which later manifests literally as they become avatars who must subsist on terror. it all really comes down to letting yourself be exploited or exploiting someone else to escape that fate (you don't escape, not really, nobody does in the podcast), and jon did choose (with as much agency he could've possibly had in a story like this). the difference between them being that elias feels no remorse for his choice, but jon's character is defined by the enormous guilt he feels about the things he has done and what he must do to continue living, until he doesn't.

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slymanner · 1 year ago

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Okay honestly these two episodes were absolutely a blast and had so many fun moments to them.

but dude the amount of COMFORT in this scene is unimaginable i love it sm gary is such a good guy...

Everybody deserves this type of love and comfort istg it's so good.

the fact he gave her a early invitation to the bakery just to give her even the smallest amount of comfort to her while she's afraid of cake's whereabouts and even giving her a LATTE AND GIVE HER REASSURANCE HE'LL HELP HER WITH THE SEARCH AFTER HES DONE MAKING SOME FOOD IN THE BACK...

I love u gary, we all deserve a gary in our lives and give him all the love and comfort possible back to him for his efforts.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna the human #prince gumball #its just everything in this scene man.#the night time vibe #the comfyness of the dialogue...#i love this show man #it has so much fun in it but these scenes where its just a regular town with regular people #going through their lives some are good some are bad some are in between #but there's always that PERSON #that person that truly cares about you and you do back #and it makes you feel like life isnt actually as bad as it is...#Gary is that #hes that reminder even when things go wrong #there is always a person who wants to help you in times of stress with comfort and reassurance.#this goes for online friends too <333

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 6 months ago

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Good morning, Sleepyhead.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #'WWX was asleep for 4 days' is an incorrect factoid.#The average WWX sleeps for 8 hours. The PD-MDZS WWX who was asleep for 40 comics and 4 months is an outlier.#We are back to present day! I have missed drawing them!#Ah...the contrast between how the flashback ended (cold and distrustful) to how wwx wakes up (warm and watched over)...#The gap between the past and present is very important. Not just in this story but in our lives too.#The past can still hurt and it doesn't just go away with time as some say. It is the power of realizing that things have changed.#We can't get the good back. The bad memories have concluded. Those live somewhere else now.#It is hard to realize that you have to live for today and tomorrow. The past is so loud.#For WWX it is realizing that despite the mistrust in the past - He really does have faith that LWJ will be there for him.#It is the reflection of knowing that you changed and will keep changing and that change is good and kind sometimes.#But more importantly...and this I really do mean with all my heart:#It will all end up okay in the end. Even after the worst day. The most painful losses. You will get through it.#What feels like a breaking point is truthfully just another step you have to take. You'll get through it even though it feels like the end.#There are wonderful things you have yet to see. Friends you have yet to meet.#Even if it hurts so badly...one day it just aches. Someday you'll go a few weeks not remembering that it ever hurt.#Oh and because my izutsumi comic revealed many people were in need of hearing this:#You are loved. Right now. You are so loved right now. We just forget to tell each other that.#Go tell the people you love that they matter to you. I'm assigning you homework!!! You are graded on completion.

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vaguely-concerned · 13 days ago

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I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

#we do not see it. we cannot read all of a sudden.#rye having war flashbacks to watcher conferences and firmly going 'we are *not* getting derailed by the metaphysics here folks'#rare stern moderator/dad hat moment from ingellvar lol. he's Seen Some Shit in his time (debates that raged over the multiple #and not always concurrent life times of the participants involved. ain't no academic rivalry like watcher academic rivalry #because watcher academic rivalry doesn't stop even when everyone involved is dead. and the rest of us have to live with it)#I. do not think the way I'm getting this quest is how it's meant to be experienced so I'm a bit at a loss as to how to pace it out #I've been an annoying little completionist so I have ALL the statues and could just marathon it out #but that does not feel like the best way for the story and upcoming reveals to work. hm. how to do this #I'm supposed to go fail to save weisshaupt right around now I can't be having study group with all of you rn as much of a delight as it is #rye is nominally an andrastian as mainstream nevarrans generally are but as I gather is the case with many of the watchers #what he *actually* believes in is the grand necropolis itself haha #(and the philosophy of history memory death and relationship (as well as responsibility) between the past and the present #and indeed the future that it represents. we have a duty. to what has been to what is and to what will come after us. good shit)#the nevarran/mortalitasi element just makes their lack of care or respect for chantry orthodoxy *mwha* that extra bit special #the nevarran lack of concern bordering on quiet condescending disdain for official chantry doctrine and policy my beloved #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #poor harding really is living through the most relentless 'if this is the maker testing my faith he sure be testing me' gauntlet of all tim #good news: god might be real! bad news: god might not even be a real thing but more like a magical accident or vibration or something #honestly tho. if we could get full lovecraftian incomprehensible to human conception the maker -- He is a particle and a wave style --#that's the only way I'd be cool with him or them actually answering the question of his existence. that'd be kind of sick #'yes. but no. but maybe. depends on how you define god. and exist. and he. and does.' *ingellvar sets of the METAPHYSICS!! klaxon #that's a time out folks good game but easy on the jargon and navel-gazing definition of terms next round #rye and lucanis have some slightly differing views about at what exact stage of a problem murder becomes a valid solution #('well you just kill them and then I'm the one who has to deal with the next much longer part')#but they're surprisingly kind of vibing on a lot of other stuff lol. good for them <3 #oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar

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izzyspussy · 8 months ago

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i think a lot of people have never been in a truly desperate situation but think they have, and this causes them to pass really harsh judgment on people who made bad choices when either irrational or having no good choices to pick instead, and i really wish people could get some fucking self-perception and work on their compassion skills and not fucking do that as much anymore

#jack facts #people be banging on about empathy this empathy that #and like sure maybe people have a measurable capacity for it but i can tell you what #that sure as fuck don't mean any fucking one of them ever bothers to make use of it when it matters lol #and i mean on the other hand it's hard to conceptualize how you would feel going through something you've never experienced before #i just wish people would be AWARE of the fact they don't know!#or like that there's a difference between ''i can't afford anything but instant ramen'' and ''i can't get any food or water''#or a difference between being freaked out by spiders and having clinical arachnophobia #or a difference between ''my loved one is sick and i'm really worried about them'' and ''my loved one is dying in front of me''#etc etc etc etc etc #anyway the longer i live the more i'm convinced that empathy is a garbage concept #and actually a more reliable way to act with true compassion is through at least some capacity for relative objectivity #the ability to say ''i don't know how that feels and i cannot understand it through comparison'' and to be able AND WILLING #to take people's self reports on their feelings thought processes or lackthereof in good faith and with sympathy #and also the ability to acknowledge that doing a bad thing for good reasons does not negate the bad thing being bad #but also should and does change what consequences are appropriate and/or most effective #and also like............... things people do in desperation or other irrational states do not represent Who They Are As A Person #or what it's like to hang out with them in a day to day situation #another thing i keep getting more and more aware of is like. if y'all can't even handle an irrational or impulsive choice that does harm #done by an otherwise ''good'' person under short term desperate situations #that they then do their best to reduce the harm of after the situation is over #i can not even imagine how absolutely unforgiving you must be of anyone who has delusions #and i mean real delusions and real psychosis not the hyperbolic babytalk version lol #like i don't think most of you even know what the fuck a delusion even is the way you act about things as simple & straightforward as like #fear. hunger. pain.#absolutely fucking exhausting

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sskk-manifesto · 9 months ago

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Osamu Dazai and the Depressing Era

#I have so many thoughts through my mind these days I was barely able to focus on the episode. I kept zoning out #I made barely any post #Okay some thoughts. The thing that really hit me since the first time watching b/sd... Is the–#“I don't kill people because I want to write about lives” “I start doing good because my friend asked me to”#Like I get grey morals and everything but also. Sorry for being so simplistic but I think everyone should do good / not kill people–#because killing people is bad lol. No because of other personal reasons #I really *really* feel b/sd ultimately has a very nihilistic approach to life.#And that when Oda said “You won't find a reason to live whether side you're on. Both sides are the same.” it's not Oda-character talking–#but it's really the author expressing their own worldview through the one character that's the most distinguished #They really think there's no difference between good and bad in their little nihilistic world.#Which is something I personally don't agree with.#“It is a given that everything that is worth wanting will be lost the moment I obtain it”#......... No it's not you just need to go to the shore and listen to the waves crush and the seagulls squeal dude. It's going to be okay.#That's why it's so easy to portray Dazai as perfect and flawless for the author btw.#Because nothing he ever did in the pm was wrong if “good” and “bad” don't mean anything to begin with.#And this is coming from a deeply relativist person. But I believe even grey morals have a limit.#Thus my general disagreement with most b/sd themes #I don't know why I went off this tangent btw I didn't intend to.#I suppose it bears repeating once in a while where I stand compared to the b/sd themes and my personal interpretation of them #(Even though I acknowledge most people don't agree with such interpretation... )#There were other things regarding the episode I needed to say but I forgot...#One of them was that season 2 Dark Era proves that even amv openings can actually be good if you put enough budget in them #Which makes me even more pissed at the season 3 / season 5 ops #random rambles

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hella1975 · 2 years ago

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hella idk what to send to you for aftg im either bored or annoyed and I don't wanna just say bad things about it 😭 like that's just rude and yall obviously like it I DONT WANNA BE SOME DEBBY DOWNER MDMWKEM

I looked at the anti aftg tag too to see if I could intermingle there and last I checked it was a mix of fans obsessed with the series and haters being just a tad harsh imo, so i couldn't even do that RIP. I'm so lonesome in what is maybe a whole group of people gaslighting me 😔👊

honestly ive said this before and i always have to tread a very fine line with it because this isn't me saying it's OKAY or like. promotable. but i do think to an extent that aftg's problematicness is actually an aspect of what draws people in a lot. like the characters and their reactions to things feel real for who they are, what they've been through and the environments they were raised in if that makes sense? and then you go in the anti-aftg tag and it's just again and again 'they said THIS thing and acted THIS way in response to THIS scenario and it was PROBLEMATIC' and like. yeah. outside of the internet bubble you're in people do actually do that. like that behaviour exists. it IS problematic, well done. you pointed at a wall and called it a wall. but like? in real life people - PARTICULARLY deprived, traumatised people that typically don't ever get therapy or community or someone telling them why something is bad - DO act this way. ive said half of my love for andrew is literally just because he took an awful backstory and let it make him a complete cunt and ive NEVER seen a character do it as shamelessly as him before. and yeah there's the argument for how it's never resolved in the book where nora ties it with a bow and points at the bad behaviour so the readers can go 'see, this is wrong' and we all clap, but idk it just for me feels that when people point at the aftg characters and go problematic! problematic! problematic! it's like they're missing the point a bit.

the point being? that we need to be putting WAY more heat on the author. i really dislike her and a lot of her writing choices and her insistance of using slurs that aren't hers to reclaim and just because it happened to make the characters feel just that bit more authentic i can still acknowledge that she CLEARLY wrote it without characterisation in mind and just added all that problematic shit anyway. like i never get why there's so little focus on nora's writing decisions and thousands of posts just fucking CRUCIFYING the characters themselves and 'let's explain in detail why this behaviour is Morally Reprehensible and they should be Locked Up Forever'. like if u want to focus on the characters so bad and pretend they're the sole reason why aftg is Problematic and Bad then why is it so hard to acknowledge that someone raised the way they were might have some misinformed, ignorant beliefs. idk lol

#but i do also think im prone to viewing these characters as TOO real and i understand there's a line to be drawn between media and reality #like at what point does 'life imitates art' become just a genuinely shit piece of media #and at the end of the day im fully aware which end of the spectrum aftg is on LMAO but this is my 2 cents #like ive met so many people that have said absolutely heinous things that the internet would eat them alive for #like homophobic sexist shit you name it they've said it and it IS problematic and uncomfortable to listen to #but i also know that while teenagers online that would call them problematic were busy claiming some new fucking buzz word to throw around #those people were actively just fucking trying to survive. like they weren't learning about why misogyny is bad #because they were fucking addicted to drugs or living through poverty or some shit like they had BIGGER PROBLEMS #like not everyone got the education or life experiences you got and while it's valid to assume someone saying horrible things #is horrible themselves there's also the times it's just genuinely a misinformed ignorant person #like they'll say 'problematic' things and i'll point out why it's bad and they'll literally go 'oh i never thought of that.' that's it!!!#like i have this childhood friend whose life has been an absolute circus start to finish like COMPLETE instability i wont even get into it #low and behold she had NO ONE educating her about things and one time i had to explain to her why having abortion rights was important #bc she just out of nowhere said she was against abortions. and i initially was outraged and disappointed that this came from her #but i didn't patronise her or shout i just explained my angle on why i think they're good and she was on side immediately #cause she always had bigger problems than researching ethics and no one to guide her so she just absorbed the first opinion she came across #and in a small town from a working class family that opinion is typically not the nice woke answer the internet demands #and with aftg particularly andrew bc he's the one who gets a lot of slack for being violent and generally unreasonable #you have someone who has literally not had someone treat him kindly a single time in his life and each new person is a genuine safety threa #like the average person just does not have to deal with that! ofc they have more time to decide their political and moral compass!#and that's so relevant to real life! popularity for the monarchy is highest amongst the working class! the people voted for brexit! trump!#the lower classes and marginalised simply do not have the resources that higher classes do #and someone fighting for survival is not going to be reading twitter threads on cancel culture in their spare time #so many issues in the world can be eased so much quicker by kindness and patient non-patronising education #than just. pointing and calling 'problematic' at anything remotely uncomfortable #idk where this came from its 2am i should go to bed and instead im ranting not even about aftg anmore this is completely it's own thing now #i feel like i worded this badly too im gonna wake up to anons in the morning accusing me of like. condoning spiking #also gloomy i am SO sorry you are the true victim of this i went ENTIRELY off piste on this one please ignore this 😭#ask

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always-a-slut-4-ghouls · 28 days ago

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Every time I see anything about Europeans not having screens on their windows I remember that one post “this is why you got the plague”. I cannot read anything about Europe and window screens without remembering that post, and honestly, I am still confused as to why people there don’t have screens

#emma posts #around here if you had no screens you’d be getting west Nile and shit just because you wanted some nighttime summer breeze #even without west Nile I don’t want more mosquitoe bites than necessary #plenty of other stuff would get in too. but you would be in mosquitoe hell #how do you guys live with biting stuff getting in your house? with flies getting in your kitchen?#it only happens here if someone leaves the door open too long or they have the lights on when they open the door at night #I mean. flies get in when it starts to get cold. but it would be way worse without window screens #and I’m pretty sure mosquitoes don’t know flies’ mysterious secrets for getting through small openings #at least most flies that get in houses don’t bite #if you leave the door open and a horse fly or deer fly gets in it’s shitty #those fuckers bite #and ticks! They usually don’t get right next to your house. but that depends on what’s around your house #and mosquitoe bites itch for DAYS #how are you guys not just getting diseases and unpleasant bites in your sleep?#and what happens if a bird accidentally flies into your living room?#if that ever happens here there’s a lot of panicking between both the bird and the humans #and I love bats but you really don’t want them getting in your house and that would just make it easier #I love them a lot but they are very good at carrying diseases. they are built different when it comes to immune systems in mammals #and if you leave your window open at night and don’t have some dog to scare them off you know raccoons would be all over your kitchen #and mice and rats too. maybe squirrels. rodents get in sometimes other ways but that’s just opening the door for them like welcome guests #if they aren’t pets then you probably don’t want them there especially for sanitary reasons #and bugs that like to eat your food!#I like animals but a lot of them aren’t great in your house #and when mice have gotten into my family’s house and realized that there were multiple cats they would just hide somewhere out of reach #until they died. even with live traps around they didn’t always move from their hiding spots out of fear #it has to be a terrible way to go. I feel bad for them #more would end up dying that way or from the cats eating them if they could just wander in through open windows. often when they do get #inside it’s because a crack formed somewhere in the window insulation #and your cat could just yet themselves off the second floor or higher. one time I had the screen off for something and my cat wandered onto #the roof and only came back in when he noticed I was panicking

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get-more-bald · 1 month ago

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ME WHEN I PEAKEEDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!

v bad picture but THE ART IS NOT EVEN THE FULL POINT....I LOVE IT BUT THE STORY IN THE TAGS IS MY HEART!!

ngl the drawings are so good tho. im so much better at ghoul design than bethany

#THE GHOULS........#dont look at karol he does not matter here. hes a young nationalist #the old officer here is 💀💀💀IM DECEASED. WHYS HE BAD THO #AHHHH I REMEMBER MAKING A FALLOUT WARSAW AU AND MAKING IT A LOT ABOUT GROWING FROM PAST TRAUMA #VS BEING STUCK LITERALLY UNDERGROUND STILL BEING AFRAID OF THE WAR AND FIGHTING #i need to tell you ALL ABOUT IT WHEN I HAVE SOME MORE FIGURED OUT #but the basis was the fight between two main factions of the mermaids and the eagles #the mermaids lived in warsaw over the ground and they focused on healing themselves and the land etc #and the quest to get the player into the faction was finding the warsaw mermaid statue which was supposed to be a big morale booster #and like their main symbol and whatnot. to help with motivation. and the mermaid companion was supposed to be the old ghoul nowak i think #(the one at the top of the page here. next to him is a little mermaid symbol ❤️)#and the eagles were a militaristic faction made of mostly old ghouls who lived underground in the literal warsaw uprising sewers #and they all had like. trauma from the war. because this is a bad universe and the german occupation didnt end in 1945 but continued to 2077 #but like theres 50s aesthetics in fallout anyways so thats where i took the warsaw uprising from #anyways they all still live like its the war and its horrible but ingame theyd make some p good points about something #so thered be actual conflict and not 'good faction vs misguided/bad faction' but theyre kinda xenophobic whatever #and theyd have a quest of like. going through sewers without a map so you dont trigger any gas traps #and their companion was either karol (a foil to nowak [old ghoul supporting a new movement] - a young human supporting an aged movement)#or the old officer whose companion quest would be getting him to trust you and then leading him out to the surface #(like. him trusting you not to surrender him to the enemy) and the scene pictured is him seeing the saxon garden flowers for the first time #since he descended into the sewers as a young man to fight nazis. and I STILL LOVE THE DRAWING BABY!!!!!#and he was meant to be like. a character who inspires growth and healing from old and horrific trauma #and learning that the world doesnt always have to be as evil as it was before. and all that shit #ALSO the thing on his hat on the left is NOT a cross its a tiny little eagle pin #also the eagles faction was supposed to be much much harder to get into but reward it with better loot #or more interesting quests. because they are incredibly distrustful in case youre an enemy. and the mermaids are open and accepting #and kinda basic. but they are really vulnerable to any kind of attack because its full of inexperienced youngsters #so thered be a mermaids ending. an eagles ending. and a good unified polish factions ending where the eagles provide military support #and their experience and insight. while the mermaids provide food and healing and sunshine and their new perspectives etc #also old nowak and the old officer were meant to have some weird old man gay tension🤨🤨🤨❤️

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lokissweater · 3 months ago

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talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.” megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i��m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

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