#THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT!! ^_^ <33 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaeyleo · 1 year ago

Text

LOCKS OR KEYS: PART 9

YOU CHOSE: KEYS: TAKE THE CAR AND ESCAPE

Your choices leave your character lost. He has no choice but to succumb to the will of his captor.

CWS: non human whumper, whumper is also caretaker, captive whumpee, failed escape attempt, sick whumpee, brainwashing, torture, dehumanization, delirious whumpee, suicidal ideation, force feeding alcohol, hallucinations and delusions of bugs crawling on and into whumpee’s body, hypnosis. let me know if i should add more!

Masterlist.

Tag list (lmk if you’d like to be added or removed, my apologies for forgetting about it the last handful of parts): @skid-row-seymour @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @the9645archives

sorry this one is kinda long, but i felt like y’all deserved a bigger part for waiting so long to hear from this series :cryface:

. . .

The keys hang on the wall, the car sits outside. It’s time to go.

In one swift motion, Chase sheds the blanket off his shoulders and snatches up the keys. He strides outside the house, making easy and confident steps down the porch. Getting in the car is easy, starting it is easy, driving is easy. For once, he isn’t afraid.

The puppet opens his eyes. Now that he’s pictured his half assed plan, he can begin the attempt.

He sheds the blanket onto the couch, feeling a rush of cold air hit his skin. For a second he pulls it back, but ultimately elects to fold it and leave it on the couch. Maybe Pseudo won’t be as angry with him if he doesn’t leave a mess. Maybe he’s just stalling.

Once finished, he begins his steps towards the keys. They’re clumsy and painful, causing him to fall into the arm of the couch before he even leaves the living room. He manages to get to the keys, and with a trembling hand, he plucks them from the wall.

He feels nauseous.

Is he really doing this?

He could turn back at any moment, and Pseudo would never know. He wouldn’t question it, because Chase would still be in bed when he got home, and the keys would still be on the wall. He could turn back. He could be safe.

But instead he opens the door, against everything inside him. He can hear his inner “Pink voice” crying inside his head, “bad idea, bad idea, bad bad bad idea!”

But he is ignored, and Chase finds himself in the driver’s seat of the car.

It takes him a few minutes to muster the courage to start it, and then a few more just to remember how. His whole body shakes in cold and fear, and he feels like he could vomit at any given second. His nervousness cracks him down to his core, splitting through every cell and piece of tissue there is to have inside a human. Once the car rumbles to life, he adjusts the mirror, and sees Pseudo in the back seat.

“Fuck!!”

Chase whips around to look at him, but finds the car empty.

The relief, the fear, the sickness, the fighting Pink and Chase, God, he can’t take it. He can’t tell if what he saw was real or fake, if he’s just hallucinating or if Pseudo’s onto him and is just toying with him. But he’s come this far, and what he can’t take even more than the situation he’s in now, is staying another day here in Denmark. He wants to go home.

Chase puts the car in drive, and starts his terrifying journey.

. . .

If starting the car was difficult, driving should be its own category of horrendous.

He’s completely forgotten how. For the first ten or so minutes he either goes too fast or too slow. He almost drives off the side of the road into the wooded areas, (which he absolutely scratches the car), and at one point, he nearly crashes when trying to turn too fast on a curve. As time passes, the sun falls farther and farther beneath the trees, to which Chase panics when trying to find the switch for the headlights. He considers pulling over for a while just to cry about it all, but he gets the hang of most of it. He gets the hang of most of it, and he drives just fine for a while, despite having no idea where he’s going.

As Chase drives and drives, he starts seeing a house in the distance. Pseudo’s house.

Did he drive in a circle?

The roads don’t curve like that, do they?

Chase speeds up, terrified to be met with this fate so soon. He hopes he’s hallucinating again.

The same woods and lake and curves meet him again. He tries harder this time around to make sure he’s careful, taking different turns as not to end up in the same place. This cant be for nothing.

The same stretch of time seems to pass for Chase, though he can’t say for sure as Pseudo’s clock is stuck at 10:05. It all feels like the same terrifying drag to him either way.

Eventually, even with his precautions, he’s met with the house again.

He speeds up once more, gripping the steering wheel as tight as he can. He tries the same plan again, taking different roads or even going straight through the woods wherever the car can fit. At this point, he’d try anything to go home.

But once again, the house appears in his view.

Tears blur his vision as he tries again. He pleads to get free, more afraid of the punishment than anything at this point. If Pseudo isn’t on to his escape, then his lack of driving skills are going to be his downfall.

Again, the house appears, and again, he tries to drive.

He cries as he keeps the car going. It’s hard to see as it is, but he might need to pull over if his emotions keep getting the best of him like this.

The next time he gets back to he house, he sees Pseudo standing there, watching him. His hands are in his pockets and he doesn’t look upset, although Chase knows better than to assume. He knows he’s been caught, and that driving would be useless now. But he cant stop, this cant be for nothing.

He drives around again, and Pseudo stays put. Their dance continues, Chase driving, Pseudo waiting, until enough turns have happened that the puppet accepts his defeat. On the last drive, the car comes to a stop, but his tears don’t.

Pseudo approaches, opening the door and tilting his head at the doll. Chase has yet to stop crying.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” says Pseudo.

The puppet covers his face, smashing tears into his fingertips. He feels like Pink. Or maybe wants to be Pink. Pseudo is nicer to Pink.

“You know what happens now, don’t you, dolly?”

Chase feels sicker and sicker. He covers his mouth just in case.

“I asked you a question, Chase.”

The name names his skin crawl. Pseudo doesn’t call him that anymore, not unless he’s in serious trouble.

“Yes,” Chase whimpers. He wipes the tears from his eyes and looks up at his captor, hoping to reason with him. “Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what I was thinking, I was just scared and-“

Pseudo puts a finger to his lips. “Hush. You know where you’re supposed to go. I’ll be in there later.”

“But-“

Pseudo smacks Chase on the mouth, and the puppet shuts up. He leans in close to his doll, making sure their eyes meet and the attention is captured.

“Hush.”

He then unbuckles the seatbelt that ties Chase down, and takes the keys from the ignition.

“Put these back on your way in.”

The monster drops the keys in his puppet’s hand, and leaves him to follow his commands. But Chase is paralyzed.

He stares down at the keys in his hand, shaking like a leaf about to fall from a tree. He pictures the cellar, he pictures the garden, he pictures the car, the vague idea of children he forgets the names of. He pictures the stupidity of his decision, and how much easier his life would be had he just stayed in bed to sleep like he was told.

But there’s no point in picturing.

Chase stands up and shuts the door. With each step he takes he feels knives digging into his feet, roots trying to plant themselves in the ground to make him stay away from his punishment. He starts losing his breath from the panic, and while his hands go numb, he simultaneously crumbles to the ground. The keys find a home in the grass, and Chase’s mouth begins to salivate from the need to vomit.

He covers his mouth, trying to take deep breaths and prevent a mess. He can’t stop shaking, can’t stop crying, can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen to him.

It takes him a few minutes to gather his strength again. Soon enough, he’s entering the house to place the keys back where he found them, and heading out the back door.

He wipes the tears from his eyes and looks at the cellar. Why, why, why did he have to be so stupid? Why can’t he just listen?

With trembling hands and closed eyes, he opens the doors for his consequences.

. . .

Pseudo takes a long time to come downstairs.

Chase isn’t sure if he’s just letting the tension build, or if his punishment is being locked in here for an unknown amount of time. God knows he’s spent long enough down here, weeks at a time, and every memory makes him more and more afraid of what’s to come. He tries not to focus on that part. Instead, he drags his hands against the wall for balance while he paces.

And paces, and paces, and paces

and paces and paces

and paces.

He paces until his feet ache from the weight of his bones. Until he has to cover his face and kneel on the ground, considering ending his life before Pseudo can come down to start the pain. But that thought leaves his mind as light drips heavy down the steps, and Chase becomes a lightening bolt to sit in the chair he’s supposed to.

His eyes lock on the drain below him. There are still stains on the concrete from his own blood, but more recently, from the man who was planted in the garden. Chase shivers as he pushes the thought from his mind.

Pseudo comes down the stairs with his eyes trained on the chair, pleased to see the seat taken. His stride is easy and comfortable, but there’s some kind of itch in his fingers that twitches as he gathers tools onto his little cart. He takes his time to think about his supplies, and what is or isn’t chosen. Chase steals a glance, but turns away when he sees a stun gun thud onto the surface.

“I don’t know why you do this to yourself,” says Pseudo, still focused on his task. “It’s like you enjoy being punished, I don’t know. Or maybe you’re just dumber than I thought.”

He places a few other tools on the cart, but Chase keeps himself blind to what’s there. Once finished, he rolls the cart closer to his prey, and stands in front of him to speak.

“Which one is it, Chase?”

The puppet frowns, shaking his head. “I-“

A hard smack to the face cuts him off. Chase goes reeling to the side of the chair, but is yanked back by his hair. The man cries out in pain, leaning as far into Pseudo’s grip as he can to avoid extra pain.

“If you speak again without permission, I’ll sew your mouth shut. Am I understood?”

Chase nods.

Satisfied, the monster lets go, and the puppet’s hands come up to soothe the pain in his cheek and scalp. The relief is short lived, however, as Pseudo grabs his wrists to strap them to the arms of the chair with thin metal wire. It digs trenches into his skin, so he tries not to squirm.

His ankles are met with the same restraints, and he clamps his jaw down as hard as he can to avoid pleading. His eyes unconsciously drift to the tool cart and he catches the sight of a Sjambok, which he can already feel the sting of. He closes his eyes and keeps his head down, but Pseudo doesn’t like that.

“Look up. Look at the cart.”

The puppet chews on his tongue and obeys. His eyes scan over what he sees, and the pit in his stomach doesn’t stop growing.

The Sjambok. The stun gun. Gardening scissors. Barded wire. Needle and thread. A small jar of table salt. Shards from the plate he broke. Whiskey. A nail-gun.

Chase’s breath picks up as he scans the cart. Tears sting his eyes, and he chews and chews into his tongue. His head swims with the anticipation and anxiety of it all, heart thumping like a bird’s inside his chest. Once he’s gathered the sight of what will be used, he turns back to his captor to see him staring like a stalking, hungry dog.

“What do you think, trouble- maker? Was it worth it?”

The man shakes his head. He feels pathetic and afraid. He only wishes he could go back in time to stop himself from being so stupid.

Pseudo nods in response.

“Good. I’ll tell you what though, doll. Once I use a tool, I’ll put it away. But everything will be used. Got it?”

Chase’s eyes glance to the stun gun. He nods his head, feeling sick all over again.

“Good. How about you pick first then? Since you like making stupid decisions so much.”

He rolls the cart closer to Chase so he can get a better view of it, and perhaps to point with his eyes what he wants. But Chase shakes his head, a hum of fear crawling up his throat against his will.

“Hey, come now. You want to make choices, so make one. Pick something.”

The man brings his head back up to meet Pseudo’s gaze. He pleads with his eyes, with his frown. He doesn’t want to. Don’t make me, please?

Pseudo tilts his head, waiting.

“Pick.”

Chase blinks tears from his eyes and turns back to his options. He points with his eyes, and says what he wants in his head, just in case Pseudo is listening.

Whiskey.

Pseudo points at the stun gun. “This?”

Chase shakes his head. No, no, whiskey. He moves forward slightly to stare harder at the bottle.

“This?”

The gardening scissors.

Chase shakes his head again, pleading, pleading, chewing on his tongue. Whiskey!

Pseudo lands on the whiskey, and Chase nods and relishes in his relief.

“Alright...”

Pseudo opens the bottle, and presents it to Chase’s mouth. “Drink.”

The puppet obeys, drinking swig after swig after swig, until its spilling over his mouth and down his chin. He starts coughing and spitting it up, but Pseudo keeps it trained on his lips. He begins to feel like he’s drowning in the alcohol before it’s pulled away, and Chase’s throat is left to burn like a hungry fire while he coughs out the poison.

“Catch your breath… it wasn’t that bad.”

It takes him a few minutes of back patting and condescending encouragements to finally settle down. He tries breathing through his mouth to calm the burning in his throat, but Pseudo takes it as an excuse to pour more poison into his body.

The same motions repeat, and the bottle is halfway gone by the time Pseudo pulls it away again. But the cap goes back on, and just as Pseudo promised, its put on the bottom shelf of the cart.

“That was an easy one… so I think I’ll pick next.”

He picks up the nail- gun, and places it to Chase’s shin.

The puppet sits up, and the wire that holds him down digs into his skin. With eyes wide and breath fast, he shakes his head, clamping down his jaw to keep himself from speaking up. His tongue endures more abuse from his teeth.

“Which leg pressed the gas?”

Chase shakes his head again, tears falling down his face as the fear takes over him. Please, please, no. He shrivels into himself like a raisin, and the wire once again digs deeper and deeper into his flesh.

“Which leg, dolly? Point with your eyes.”

The doll sobs a little harder, shaking his head.

“No? Maybe I’ll just hit both, then…”

His eyes shoot open to stare at his right leg, tears blurring his vision. At this Pseudo chuckles, tilting his head and keeping his eyes on the doll’s face.

“I’m just messing with you,” he smiles. “But it would’ve been very interesting had you pointed at your left.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, a nail goes shooting through Chase’s tibia. It digs down as deep as it can get, cracking the bone with the force.

He screams as loud as he can muster. His already burned throat doesn’t do well with the strain, but its even worse when another nail goes shooting through just below the first one. He can’t stop himself from crying about it.

The nail- gun drops into the bottom shelf, and Pseudo calls his puppet back to focus. He coos at him, tapping his face, until Chase gets the hint.

“It’s your turn, puppet.”

The doll looks at his leg. His pants are soaked with blood and alcohol, but he cant see the nails from this angle. Perhaps thats a good thing.

He turns back to the cart, and makes his choice.

Salt.

Pseudo points at the Sjambok. Chase shakes his head.

Pseudo points at the gardening scissors. Chase shakes his head, leaning closer to the salt.

He points at the stun gun. Chase loses his breath, and leans even closer.

Salt!

“Mh, I’m just not sure what you’re saying. I suppose I’ll pick..”

Pseudo picks up the glass shards, and starts shoving them one by one into Chase’s thigh. He uses the last one to give his doll’s cheek a little cut, and tosses it into the cart. The remaining shards stay planted in flesh like sprouting seeds. It hurts, but it feels like a break compared to what he just felt.

Next, Pseudo picks up the Sjambok, and stands up.

“Lean forward.”

Chase groans, shivering. He feels dizzier and dizzier, and the world feels harder to navigate. Is he getting drunk already?

“Don’t make me ask again, dolly. You don’t want this to hit your face, do you?”

The doll succumbs and does as he’s told. Once he’s in position, Pseudo waits to watch his puppet just breathe. His chest rises and falls fervently in his lap, just barely grazing the glass. After enough tension builds to make Chase whimper, he strikes his back hard.

A large slice of blood erupts from the source, and the doll screams into his knees. Another three strikes are given, and the Sjambok is tossed to the floor.

Chase sobs like a child. He can’t get enough air in his lungs, and the tears seem to be never ending. Everything already aches, and there’s still so much to do. He feels dizzy and faint, unsure if its the blood loss or the alcohol, or both. But before he can get his bearings again, the wounds on his back sting bad enough for him to wail all over again.

Salt, salt, salt, like trails of snow, poured into his open wounds. Pseudo holds the back of his neck to keep him in place.

“Stop!” Chase weeps, squirming and crying like it’ll do something useful. “Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!! Please stop!”

Pseudo clicks his tongue three times, finishing the last row and putting the salt away.

“You just can’t get enough of this, can you, sweetheart?”

Chase sits up once free, writhing in pain. He sways as the alcohol takes over the remaining of his control, and the pain takes its place close behind. He can’t press his back to the chair, but cant lean forward, either. Everything hurts. He’s too dizzy, he feels drunk already. His wrists ache and look as red as his crying face does.

Pseudo plucks the needle and thread from the cart.

“Quiet, dolly, or this will hurt a lot more than you’d like it to.”

“Nonono, please, please!” he weeps. “I wont do it again, I won’t ever do it again, I’ll do everything you say, I’m s— ah!!”

Pseudo smacks Chase on the mouth hard enough to shove his back into the chair.

“Enough. You’re being awfully stupid..”

The needle comes up from his bottom lip first, snaking its way to the top lip. Row after row, sob after sob, every sound that comes out of Chase’s mouth becomes muffled. Blood drips down his chin to follow the paths that the alcohol took beforehand. The salty tears sting the cut on his cheek, and whatever wound from the stitches that they can get into.

The gardening scissors cut the remaining thread, and both tools are tossed to the bottom of the cart. At least his fingers wont have the same fate as Richie’s.

The next tool that’s chosen is barbed wire. Pseudo uses it to wrap around Chase’s torso and arms, making sure to roll up any clothing so the razors meet his skin instead of fabric. Then, the stun gun finds his hand.

Chase’s head swims. He shakes his head, his cries becoming weaker but more afraid by the second. He’d take anything over the stun gun. Even the nail- gun. The sensory hell that comes from electricity is simply too much for him to take right now.

“Readyyyy?” Pseudo sings. “You’re almost done.”

But Chase isn’t, nor will he ever be, ready for the stun gun. He shakes his head again, a pathetic sob bubbling up from his throat. He sinks deeper into the chair, regretting everything he’s done within the last two days. He wants to wake up in the attic with the sun on his face and be confused about what’s happening again. He wants to be hypnotized and treated like a doll, to be coddled and loved and doted upon for whatever fucked up reason Pseudo has for doing it. He wants to be Pink, he wants to be Pink, he wants to be Pink.

Pseudo aims at Chase’s shoulder, and shoots.

His entire body tenses up from the electricity. What little control he had before has now left him, and he is left to scream and endure for 10 seconds.

15.

20.

Chase opens his eyes to see Pseudo standing over him. He can’t breathe, he cant see, the world swims and twists in his eyes. The room spins and there are fire ants crawling across his entire body, with burrows dug deep into his flesh. He looks down at himself, seeing bugs crawling all across his skin.

“Mmm- mmmm!!!”

Chase writhes and hollers like his life depends on it. There are bugs on his skin!! He can feel them burrowing into his flesh, into his shin, his wrists, his torso, his mouth, his thigh!!!!! They’re everywhere!!!

He screams and screams and screams as they take over his whole body, making a home inside every space they can. Pseudo grabs hold of his doll’s face, forcing his eye contact and attention.

“Settle down,” he commands. “You’re alright. Deep breaths, Pink. Deep breaths.”

He keeps squirming and fighting, keeps sobbing and sinking deeper into the chair as the bugs eat him up like candy. But Pseudo comes soothing, and kind, and Chase feels heavier and heavier until the whole world feels too far away to focus. But Pseudo is there, and Pseudo is helpful. Pseudo gets the bugs away.

“You’re okay, Pink. Listen to me now, deep breaths. You’re all done.”

All done? All done?

Pink shivers. He remembers what he did, how stupid and dangerous that was. He can’t believe he’d do such a thing, especially when an angel like Pseudo is here to take care of him. What’s wrong with him?

Pink whines as he’s set free from his restraints. As all the barbed wire is peeled from his body and the glass shards are plucked out one by one. He sighs, especially thankful, when he’s able to take a breath through his mouth as the thread is cut away. He has no choice but to lean into Pseudo when scooped up into his arms, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wants to be good now, and he’ll promise that once he’s allowed to speak again.

“You’re alright, Pink. I’ve got you back now, hm? You’re alright.”

Pink whines once more, feeling overwhelmed with the urge to fall asleep.

. . .

Oh, his head hurts.

Where is Pseudo?

Pink opens his eyes to find himself alone in his room. His body feels heavy and beaten, and everything hurts. Upon seeing the sun shine through the window, he is overcome with a wave of nausea so strong that he has to lean over his bed. When he tries to sit up, however, the pain in his back and ribs is enough to make him cry out. The nausea gets worse until he gags, covering his eyes and mouth and pretending Pseudo is there to coach him through it. Once it passes, he opens his eyes, half expecting to see Pseudo already there and waiting.

The puppet groans, observing his empty room. He wants to call out for Pseudo, but closes his mouth upon remembering he’s not supposed to speak. He wishes he could ask for some water, or a hug.

Instead he asks for attention by knocking on the wall. Everything in his body hurts, so standing up to make noise doesn’t feel like a safe option for him. He just hopes that Pseudo notices soon, whether that’s through annoyance or wanting to be by his puppet. He can’t take much longer without seeing his angel.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, says Pinks room.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

The knocks are eventually returned at the door, and Pink hears a key turn into the lock. The door opens, and Pink smiles dopey and adoring.

“Ps-“ he starts, before covering his mouth. He wants to say sorry, but then he’d have to say sorry for saying sorry, and then sorry for saying sorry for saying sorry. So he just clamps his jaw shut, and prays that Pseudo forgives him for his near mistake.

“My Pink,” Pseudo croons. The key is concealed inside his pocket, and he makes his way towards his doll. “Do you feel sick this morning?”

Pink nods, sighing and relaxing when Pseudo comes to sit beside him. As if that weren’t enough, Pseudo runs a hand through Pink’s hair, and the doll leans as far into his touch as possible. He wants moments like these to last forever.

“Poor thing… but you’ll be good now, won’t you? No more slip ups like yesterday.”

Pink’s face burns in embarrassment. He can’t believe what he did; the regret consumes him. He shakes his head, holding Pseudo’s hand and kissing his palm to show his devotion.

Pseudo smiles and runs his hand through Pink’s hair, and the puppet basks in the attention. He can’t get enough of it. He isn’t sure why he ever tried to leave in the first place. Stupid, stupid puppet.

“That’s precious.. but, I have to make sure you’re being honest, don’t I?”

Pink nods. That makes sense, and he’ll do anything to prove himself.

“Good. Because if you’re good..”

He runs a hand through Pink’s hair, and a thumb across his cheek bone. The puppet melts.

“Then I’ll bring you back home, and I’ll spoil you rotten.”

Pink smiles. This time, he blushes from contentment. From adoration.

“But if you’re bad, if you show me you want to escape again, I’ll make sure you end up alone. No one will take care of you.”

Pink frowns, afraid. He points at Pseudo, and shakes his head. Not even you?

“You’ll be alone, Pink. Out of your head,” he pets Pink’s hair again, “and all alone. Do you understand?”

Yes. Pink nods.

“Good. Then I should see you soon, dolly. Don’t fret about it when you get there, hm? Nothing to be afraid of if you’re a good puppet.”

Pink wants to ask where he’s going, but is left to wonder until it happens.

#good god #i’ve been writing this for almost 7 hours #i hope u guys enjoyed and again im so sorry its so ooooo long #i jsut wanted to make up for that long long hiatus #like i know thats pretty common for this series and like #other authors in general #but i want to start posting more consistently #cos i like this series a lot and i love hearing your guys’ opinions on it too #anyway #im so sleepy #sorry if there’s any mistakes in there #thank you guys for being so so supportive and patient #you all motivate me to keep writing this so thank u <33 #locksorkeysgame #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #puppet pink #pseudo #my writing #ill probably add more tags tomorrow #wish me luck on my exam i wrote this instead of studying for it lololololol #whump writing #whump #whump community #whumpee #whump series #whumper #whumper is also caretaker #hypnosis whump

7 notes · View notes

ruvviks · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter >> 19 [x] Characters >> ??? Total >> 7.7k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention, death mention, family / parents, injury mention, smoking

‘More information has been released on the explosions in Charter Hill from a few days ago. The office building in question was supposedly in use as a hideout by the infamous fixer known as “the Broker” on the streets. The explosion itself did minimal damage, but most of the building has been consumed by the fire that broke out on the lower levels.

The NCPD has yet to confirm the number of casualties though emphasizes that no innocent civilians have been caught in the crossfire. The Broker has presumably died on the premises. Their mercenaries have scattered across town and thus far, no further incidents have been reported.

It appears that peace has finally returned to the streets of Night City. And with that, the weather.’

It was the end of August.

The streets were dark. A pitch black sky hung over Night City, heavy rainfall threatening to pour down and a hint of static in the air though not quite enough yet for a full storm to break loose. Nearing the evening hours- the sweet spot right before rush hour where the whole city seemed to be holding its breath, roads left eerily abandoned as restaurants and bars began opening their doors and people packed up their things to leave work and go home.

The run-down apartment building cast a dark shadow on the streets of the Glen, curtains of windows behind bars and grids closed and apartments left unilluminated and cold. The graffiti-covered entrance hall was abandoned- the sound of heels clacking softly on the faded and cracked tiles leading up to the concrete staircase, a single bright fluorescent ceiling light flickering and swaying from a strong breeze blowing in from the hall.

It was one of the older buildings in town. Its initial purpose had been to become a beautiful and bright home to working class families- affordable housing close to work, with stable electricity and HVAC and everything else needed to be able to live comfortably and safely raise a kid or two.

An idea, a dream; exactly how many projects in Night City often started, a vision easy enough to make reality yet halted halfway through because of financial reasons, corporate interference, gang territory expansion, a cyberpsycho incident, economic or political interests or a cocktail of several- or all- of those reasons.

Which is how the building had instead ended up as a derelict ruin with barely working electricity and apartments in the possession of shady owners- some going for triple the rent it was worth and others cheap but in such poor condition one might as well be sleeping on the streets.

Home, sweet home.

The seventh floor stood entirely abandoned, its apartments burnt down after a fire a few years back. All except one; in the far back, safely tucked away from the main street and overlooking the outskirts of Vista Del Rey, though the windows had not been cleaned in who knows how long leaving not much outside to see.

It was small, cozy. A single room apartment with a tiny bathroom in the corner, the door only half in its hinges and never repaired. It held barely any furniture, an old couch with coffee table that missed a leg marking the living room with a mattress on the floor behind it as bed, and a small kitchen on the left next to the front door made out of mismatched cabinets and an old oven and stove that looked like it was as old as time itself.

Despite the clear absence of a resident, the place was not as dirty as it could have been. Recently dusted and the kitchen counter was clean, fridge in working order running on an external generator and stocked with basic foods and some liquors. A safehouse, presumably; or at least a temporary refuge for someone who needed desperately to hide, or simply needed the solitude from time to time.

Cold, grayish blue eyes slowly trailed the dark room, the silence inside nearly deafening. Who had known Night City could be so quiet? Everything else was so far away, an aura of loneliness weighing down on the stuffy interior air making it harder to breathe. Searching hand found a light switch- flicked it on, and a string of colored lights along the top of the window on the other side of the room turned on, bathing the apartment in a soft, reddish pink glow.

Home, sweet home.

It did not feel like it.

He slowly took off his coat, holding it under his arm as he carefully walked further into the room. Ran his free hand through his short, slicked back hair- it was a little damp, still, caused by the humidity outside as well as inside, and he exhaled a little sharper than he had meant for as he quickly dried his hand on his pants.

The place made him uncomfortable, despite the warm and inviting atmosphere the colored lights created. It was too heavy with history- too much hardship had happened between those four decrepit walls and too much of it lingered still and it left him with so many questions; questions he clearly already knew the answers for, but questions that would not leave him alone either way.

Matvey had lived in an apartment like that himself, too.

Many, many years ago; when he had been in his early twenties, only recently escaped his parents’ home, struggling to find balance in the multitude of aspects of his life and struggling to get by.

His eyes trailed the walls, over pictures that had been left there, faded by the decade that had passed but showing people, friends, at parties and roaming the Night City streets after dark, smiling brightly at the camera with closed eyes and scrunched up noses.

And his gaze lingered on one boy in particular, present in nearly all of them- bleached blond hair that reached his waist, some freckles covering his forehead and cheekbones, pale grayish blue eyes above a wide smile, and a small gap between his front teeth.

Oh, Vitali.

Matvey carefully took one of the pictures from the wall, only barely able to contain his irregular breathing and heartbeat as he slowly scanned the faces of both his son and someone unfamiliar next to him; a boy with light brown hair and golden eyes, face full of piercings and a tattoo peeking out of his shirt on his neck.

They were kissing in the picture. Matvey had never even gotten the chance to meet him.

The howling of the wind outside made him shiver while he quickly put the picture back, hairs on his arms standing up straight as the cool breeze blew through cracks and holes in the outer wall of the apartment.

It did not feel right to stand there. It did not feel right to exist in the space Vitali had once existed in, struggling to get by, struggling to survive in a city that was so desperately trying to swallow him whole. And if Matvey could go back in time to change it- any of it-

But it was far too late for that now.

‘Vitali?’

Matvey stood motionless as he watched his son enter the house- flashlight of his phone illuminating the dark hallway- coming home from one of his classmates’ infamous parties while Matvey himself was already getting ready to go to work.

‘Party lasted a little longer than I had thought,’ Vitali instantly blurted out, and Matvey glanced at his watch; nearly five in the morning, and Vitali would have school in only a few hours- but most importantly, Nadya had not even given him permission to go in the first place.

Matvey lowered himself on the couch and exhaled sharply, the memories washing over him like a tidal wave slamming itself into the coastline. Memories of an easier time; but now he was not so sure anymore, wondering if it had truly been as simple as he had always thought, wondering if perhaps his own judgment was clouded, unreliable.

Matvey slowly walked closer to Vitali, trying to think of anything to say; scold him, perhaps, punish him for his recklessness and misbehavior-

But something stopped him from doing so.

Something on Vitali’s face- the way his eyes widened the second his father began moving closer, the way he clearly tried to find the right words to say- the way he swayed on his legs and could barely keep his phone in his hand and the way his eyes almost glossed over when Matvey got close enough-

He simply reached out and plucked a half smoked cigarette out of his son’s hair.

Nadya had not needed to know.

The lights along the wall and ceiling lightly flickered as another strong wind caused the glass of the window to rattle in its frame. A late afternoon dust storm blowing in from the Badlands, leaving the city streets in a thin layer of sand once it would settle down again; the one time anyone would be glad to have a roof above their head, no matter how run-down.

Matvey clasped his hands together, frown decorating the upper half of his face, the howling of the wind the only thing breaking through the silence surrounding him alongside the ringing in his ears the explosions from a few days earlier had left him with-

His eyes fluttered shut and a shaky exhale left his chest.

Oh, Vitali.

It had not been worth it.

Months of planning, months of fighting- months of losing sight of what was right and what was wrong and everything in between and most of all losing sight of what it had all been for in the first place. Revenge? Trying to prove a point? Trying to be good enough for a woman who had lost interest somewhere down the line, to the point she had started to become more of a stranger to him than his own wife?

And where had it led him?

Where had it all led any of them?

‘Perimeter is clear. You should be safe here.’

The familiar voice was comforting, in a way.

It sounded different now; the years had not been kind to him, but still Vitali had grown up to become a fine looking young man radiating more confidence than he had ever done at any point in his childhood, and Matvey would be lying if he said he was not proud of his son for getting to the point in his life he was at now.

He opened his eyes again and watched as Vitali entered the apartment, cane lightly clacking on the old wooden floorboards with every step he took. His eyes trailed the room- though too fast for anyone to be able to fully take in any of the smaller details, and the white-knuckled balled fist along his body told Matvey he would rather be anywhere else.

‘Thank you, for this,’ Matvey quietly said in Russian, but Vitali cut him off with a single shake of his head. He couldn’t even look him in the eyes- gaze fixed on the photos on the wall as he took a step back, wincing lightly and putting his hand over the patched up wound in his side.

‘I don’t want your gratitude,’ he coldly replied. ‘Words mean nothing. Not anymore.’

Matvey understood.

Nothing he could say would set things right. Nothing he could say would change what had happened, would make it all go away- and as far as Vitali was concerned this could easily be part of his plan, still, trying to get closer to him in a vastly different way; try to gain his trust and strike when everyone would least expect it to come out victorious at the end of it all either way.

It would have been a genius plan, Matvey had to admit- well within his capabilities too, he could have pulled it off.

But that was not who he was.

Not anymore.

‘You have- a long way to go,’ Vitali quietly continued, taking out his cigarette case, flicking one out and carefully lighting it, the flame of his lighter softly illuminating the space around him.

‘Make things right. Somehow. Prove to me that you are better without Nadya. And I can’t help you with any of that, so- good luck figuring it out for yourself. I have nothing to win or lose in any of this anymore, so do whatever you feel like doing.’

A nonchalance to his voice, but the words he spoke were heavy. As if all of it was a burden to him- and Matvey knew exactly why, having had enough interactions with Vitali’s friends thus far to know that they did not fully support his son’s decision.

His actions would speak louder than words.

Of course Vitali did not know that Matvey had come with him to that tiny ripperdoc shop- Viktor, I believe his name is- and had stayed with him all that time, refusing to sleep, agreeing to let himself be handcuffed as humiliating as it was just to ease others’ minds.

Of course he didn’t know that Matvey had helped that fixer, Rogue, put together a fake profile for the Broker to get that poor excuse of a Council’s attention away from the both of them entirely and to make sure the NCPD had a name to settle on to put the case to rest in their archives, never to be seen ever again.

And of course he didn’t know that Matvey had willingly allowed some netrunner he could not remember the name of wipe his own entire existence from Arasaka’s database, to make sure they would never find out the truth but at the same time rendering him incapable of ever returning to the corporation, even if he for whichever reason so desperately wanted to.

But what difference would it make if he knew?

‘I won’t let you down,’ Matvey finally answered, lowering his gaze to the ground. Not out of shame, or dishonesty- but if anything out of fear, fear of what he would see on his son’s face, fear of his words being taken with a grain of salt despite how heavy they weighed on his tongue, despite how sincerely he meant them, and he clenched his fists on his lap as a sharp exhale left his body.

A long way to go.

But at least Matvey knew where to start.

‘Hey, Vito.’

The interior of Misty’s shop was comfortably warm, gently illuminated by a few lit candles scattered around. A welcoming sight as always- the interior colorfully decorated but not too clashing or too bright on the eyes, and Vitali would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel at home.

She hadn’t closed yet; though no one else was inside at that time of day, most of Little China’s residents seeking shelter from the dust storm passing over elsewhere in either the Megabuilding or one of its many diners or restaurants. Misty herself was stood behind the counter, leaning on top with her elbows and softly humming a song.

Vitali wiped his feet on the doormat and quickly took off his mask and glasses, stuffing them in the pocket of his long coat before giving Misty a wave and a smile as he walked closer. She smiled back at him in return; and reached out to ruffle his hair the second he got within her reach, sand and dust falling out of it like snowflakes and sticking to his clothes on the way down.

‘Is Vitya still here?’ he asked, setting his cane down beside him and leaning on the counter as well, eyes fixed on the deck of tarot cards in Misty’s hands she was shuffling.

‘Of course,’ was the response, as usual. ‘City never sleeps.’

‘Neither does he, it seems.’

‘And neither do you.’

Vitali scoffed, a smile lingering on his face as he lowered his gaze to the floor beneath his feet. He couldn’t even argue with her; had not slept at all last night despite recovering from a shot that could have killed him- that should have killed him- only a few days ago.

‘Got time for a reading?’ Misty asked, reaching out to place her hand on Vitali’s before he could pull back to make his way outside, to get to Viktor’s shop. ‘Startin’ to become kind of a tradition at this point, I think.’

‘Hm- with V, maybe.’

Vitali paused, reaching out to the tarot deck in his friend’s hands- she fanned them out near automatically for him, a slightly questioning look in her eyes- and he picked one out, turning it between his fingers and clicking his tongue upon seeing the result.

‘Your cards do not like me very much,’ he finished his sentence with a wink and a smile, and he grabbed his cane again while dropping the tarot card labeled “death” face up on the counter as he made his way around it through the back door of the esoterica.

He had walked down those stairs many, many times before; knew the route to Viktor’s ripperdoc clinic as intimately as the route between his office and his home. Perhaps even more so- visits albeit sparingly going back years in time to long before his time as a fixer, long before he had moved into the penthouse he lived in now.

The familiar smell of sharp disinfectant entered his nose halfway down the steps. The familiar struggle to open the gate to get inside- the familiar sight of Viktor mid drying his hands on a hand towel on the other side of the room, giving him a warm smile as he slowly walked over.

‘Was wondering when you’d show your face again. How’re you feeling?’

‘Tired,’ Vitali bluntly answered, closing the gate behind him. ‘My whole body wants to lay down in bed and never get out, my skull feels cracked and I have not had an appetite since I woke up, but- what can you do.’

Viktor reached out- a gesture that nearly caused Vitali to flinch, a rush of adrenaline locking up the muscles in his neck- and gently cupped his cheek, slightly tilting his head around as he checked his eyes; then placed his hand on Vitali’s forehead, a soft hum that could have both been of approval as well as disapproval leaving his throat.

‘It’ll settle soon enough,’ he finally spoke. ‘You were-’ A pause. ‘You were close to-’

‘I know, Vik,’ Vitali quickly interrupted the old ripperdoc. ‘I know.’

Vitali could not remember much of any of it anymore.

He remembered feeling the cool night air on his skin, the very same slight breeze that had later caused the fire inside the building to spread rapidly from floor to floor. He remembered being lifted into a car- being held by several people at once, staring up through the half opened car window to the dark sky and heavy clouds and the blinding city lights flashing by.

They had brought him there. To Viktor’s shop. He had no longer been conscious by then, and it had taken him a while to wake up after being stabilized; and even then he could still not remember when and how exactly he had gotten home, and the previous day was by that hour also mostly a blur to him.

Vitali’s gaze met Viktor’s again and he instantly took notice of the expectant look in his eyes; no words leaving his lips, but the question was crystal clear to him either way. And in hindsight, Vitali was not entirely sure anymore why he had gone to Vik’s in the first place, when there was really not much else to say.

‘I brought him to the safehouse today,’ Vitali sheepishly said, fumbling with the handle of his cane and lowering his gaze to the floor. ‘He will be staying there for- well, I don’t know. Until he has figured out what to do next, I suppose.’

‘Good.’ Short response. Vitali nearly wished he had just gone home instead. ‘Did it ease your mind?’

He absently nodded, Viktor’s words taking a moment to settle in his brain and as they did the light bobbing faltered and faded into a sigh, shoulders slumping forward as he reached out to grab a chair from beside him and he slowly sat down.

‘I thought it would, but… I don’t know anymore,’ he answered honestly, barely able to look Viktor in the eye as the man sat down on his own stool nearby and wheeled closer. A comforting move- and Vitali’s heartbeat settled down a little as it happened, glad he did not have to cut the conversation short.

‘Did I-?’ he started, frowning as he reconsidered his words and momentarily searched for something else to say. ‘Shouldn’t I have-’

‘Hey- no. Don’t start doubtin’ yourself now, kid.’

The soothing tone of Viktor’s voice seemed everlasting with his patience, and Vitali closed his eyes and dropped his head as the ripperdoc put a reassuring hand on his wrist.

‘Not after everything you’ve been through,’ he added to the statement, and fuck, how Vitali wished he hadn’t- if he had just made a couple of different decisions somewhere along the way then he wouldn’t have had to-

‘But what if I was wrong?’ Vitali blurted out, the words lingering inside his head for much longer than necessary and rendering him unable to keep his mouth shut, like many times before. ‘What if-’

‘You’ve made plenty of mistakes in your life, V,’ Viktor immediately interrupted him. ‘Just like all of us. Just like me.’

Well, that was unexpected.

Vitali frowned and looked back up, Viktor slightly averting his gaze to a point right behind Vitali to not have to look him in the eyes.

‘One of my biggest mistakes?’ he continued, a sudden instability to his voice that had not been there before and he gave Vitali’s wrist a soft squeeze. ‘Not listenin’ to you. Trying to tell you to not join Arasaka after you’d already let me know there was no changing your mind. Pushing you away like that.’

Vitali could not help but wonder how long the other man had been sitting on that one.

Wind blew in from up the stairs, rattling the gate behind them and causing the orange cat curled up in a little makeshift bed next to it to jump up, hiss, and skitter across the floor to sit between Vitali’s legs instead. He absently reached down to give him a few scratches on the head- Jack, he believed Viktor had named him- and used the moment to let the words settle in his head again.

Fuck, he was tired.

‘You were right,’ he finally replied, vividly remembering how desperately Viktor had tried to convince him to not sell his soul to the corporation so many years ago.

‘Doesn’t matter if I was right or wrong,’ Viktor cut him off again with a single shake of his head. ‘I wasn’t there for you the way you needed me.’

‘You’re not my dad, Vik.’

‘But he wasn’t there either, was he now?’

Silence washed over the room and a pang of anger tightened Vitali’s chest; though he managed to shrug it off with ease, knowing the frustration was unnecessary since Viktor was merely stating facts. He lowered his gaze again, staring at Jack who was slapping his ankles and attempting to bite through one of his shoes- and for some reason it caused a small smile to take shape on his face, despite the rest of the circumstances he’d found himself in.

‘Look, kid,’ Viktor quietly said, ‘I can’t tell you whether you made the right call or not. Truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know what I would’ve done. But I trust your judgment. And I’m not gonna let history repeat itself.’

‘What if I am wrong?’

‘Then we’ll find out soon enough. What else are you gonna do about it now?’

He was right.

Of course he was- what else was there for Vitali to do? He could lock Matvey up, and then what? Accidentally turn him into a second Ravager because of it? He was not leaving the man to his own devices. Was not trapping him but would keep an eye on him either way, make sure the things that had happened would never ever happen again-

‘Every decision you’ve made along the way has led us here. You did the best you could.’ Viktor stood up again, giving Vitali a gentle pat on his shoulder before turning around to tend to the mess on his desk, grabbing a stack of papers and shoving it into one of the drawers.

‘You’re just one man, Vito,’ he continued, ‘and you know what? Him too. What’s wrong with this city is that too many folks have this- this “kill who you can kill” mindset. Let’s be honest here, what real difference would it have made to take this one man’s life?’

‘Others have died along the way,’ Vitali bluntly fired back, reaching down and barely reacting when Jack instantly attacked his fingers, pupils dilating upon spotting Vitali’s rings and trying to pull one off his hand. ‘It would’ve been better to save them.’

‘And you tried, didn’t you? Had you killed him, would things have been different? Who else would have lived? Who else would have died?’

It was impossible to say.

Too many external factors at play- Ravager and Dupoint as rogue variables, as well as each and every single one of his father’s mercs. Nadya’s influence had changed so much; what would she have done if Vitali had successfully killed Matvey at any point in time? Would she still have wanted to remain on the sidelines?

‘Sometimes, living is a punishment,’ Viktor suddenly quietly said and Vitali looked back up at him, needing a second to realize he himself had stood up as well and had followed Viktor further into the room.

‘The human mind punishes itself more than enough- and death just… puts an end to that. It’s what makes it so appealing to some when life gets very difficult for them.’

His words were carefully chosen and Vitali could feel his chest tighten again, a lump in his throat making it harder to swallow. He knew Viktor was just putting out general statements, but he couldn’t help but take notice of the slightly targeted remarks dripping down from between the lines, the backside of a coin presented to him visible through a reflective surface behind it.

‘I don’t think the others understand,’ Vitali absently mumbled, a poor attempt at changing the subject.

‘And I don’t think that matters all that much,’ was the ripperdoc’s straightforward response. ‘Nothing’s been forgiven. Nothing’s been forgotten. You simply spared his life and gave him a temporary place to stay, an opportunity to better himself. What he does with that is out of your control.’

He made it sound so easy.

Vitali rarely worried about his reputation among others, knowing very well he could not satisfy everyone and attempting to do that would be as useless as trying to rid Night City of all crime. Sure, he tried his best to stay on the good side of at least the Council- even during all of this he had done nothing to anger them on purpose- but he did not let his worries about it stop him from doing what he felt was best for the situation, or for the parties involved.

But accusations were starting to stack up rather rapidly now. The belief some had he had joined Arasaka again for a while- unaware of the brainwashing, or simply refusing to believe it had happened- the belief some had he was the Broker himself, and now the doubts people had in him because of the outright refusal to kill his father despite the man being just one person in the bigger picture of things.

‘Do you think it will work out?’ Vitali carefully asked, watching as Viktor began setting some tools back on a shelf- and for a split second he was twenty years old again, swaying on his feet with his head completely elsewhere begging Viktor to tell him it would all be okay, to tell him it would be worth it, only to be met with deafening silence and an averted gaze.

‘Of course it will, kid,’ Viktor quietly said and an involuntarily, relieved sigh left Vitali’s chest.

‘It always does.’

Everything would fall in place in time. Viktor was right- of course he was. Vitali had no idea how long it would take, what it would take, but he wasn’t one to give up so easily and neither were any of his friends and for any of them to walk away now after everything they had been through together would be the most unrealistic scenario he could think of.

Of course it would be fine, in the end.

‘Can’t say I’ll ever like him, though,’ Viktor suddenly jokingly added to his statement. ‘But- s’pose we can coexist in peace.’

Vitali huffed in response, taking a step back to lean against the wall. ‘Can you imagine.’

‘Not in a million years.’

They were quiet for a moment, Vitali’s mind wandering off a little as he considered the possibility.

‘I mean,’ he quickly added- not entirely sure why he felt the need to, but it was already too late to stop the words from leaving his lips- ‘he’s a boxer. Like me. Like you.’

Viktor stopped what he was doing to turn to Vitali, and in his eyes where Vitali had expected to find judgment he instead found a softness that gave him just enough courage to keep talking.

‘Makes the worst jokes I’ve ever heard,’ he softly continued, ‘worse than Mikhail, if you can believe it. We used to… We used to watch those horrible hospital tv shows together every Sunday night when Nadya wasn’t home. We would rank all the male doctors from most to least attractive… We never settled on a winner.’

His voice finally trailed off and so did his gaze, glossy eyes trailing over the concrete floor and settling on a small stain near Viktor’s feet.

‘I’m sorry, this is- this is probably too soon, I didn’t mean-’

‘No such thing as too soon.’ Soothing, still, despite it all, like the strong hand he reached out and rested reassuringly on Vitali’s shoulder.. ‘You’ve had to carry that with you for years. Through all of this.’

He had.

Not at any point in time had Vitali stopped seeing Matvey as his father.

‘It feels like a lifetime ago,’ he mumbled, and his eyes fluttered shut when Viktor stepped forward and pulled him in for a hug, a sense of comfort washing over him and taking away any worries he’d had when he had entered the shop.

‘You think things will go back to how they used to be?’

‘No,’ Viktor replied without hesitation, but his voice lacked any hostility.

‘Absolutely not. And that’s for the best.’

The penthouse was not yet dark when Vitali came home, a couple of lights from the living room dimly illuminating the hallway leading up to the front door. A welcoming sight; his years in solitude had not done him well and Vitali would be forever glad to no longer have to live alone.

Mikhail and Vincent were curled up on the couch together under a blanket, quietly laughing about a joke one of them had made. The TV was still on, and Vitali’s eyes trailed over the coffee table- drinks and the remnants of snacks scattered across the marble tabletop.

Movie night. He had missed it a lot in the past few months.

‘Hey baby,’ Vincent said as Vitali walked closer and he reached out to gently grab both of Vitali's hands to drag him on the couch next to him. ‘How’d it go?’

‘Good,’ Vitali answered, leaning in to press a soft, slightly hesitant kiss on the corner of Vincent’s mouth. ‘Good, I think. He’s at the safehouse, everything is settled. For now.’

A short pause, as he sucked in a shallow breath and took a moment to scan both their faces. Vincent had not stopped smiling since he had entered, still looking up at him with a sleepy look in his eyes; but Mikhail refused to make eye contact, visibly biting the inside of his cheek as he instead played with Vincent’s hair. He was notably holding back all of his tics.

‘And here?’ Vitali quietly asked, gaze lingering on Mikhail a little longer until he finally looked up to answer.

‘Rogue called,’ he said. ‘Council has…mostly calmed down by now. The fake profile and “evidence” was enough to convince them and- well, streets are mostly back to normal. Which is really all they ever wanted in the first place.’

‘No ties to me? Or my-’ He stopped to swallow his words. ‘Or to Matvey?’

‘None at all,’ Vincent replied, and carefully brushed some of Vitali’s hair out of his face. ‘Don’t expect an apology from them, but- it’s over now.’

Vitali huffed. ‘All I ever wanted.’

It would do him good to finally no longer have to deal with them. The feeling of their eyes on his back had been a constant annoyance throughout the whole ordeal and all of that could have so easily been prevented if they had simply listened to him from the start.

But Vitali found it was best not to dwell on the Council’s behavior and decisions for too long. As Vincent rightfully said- expecting an apology would be as stupid as expecting to get any financial compensation or support from them for the resources and supplies lost along the way.

At least it would secure his spot out of their direct line of fire during the next Council meeting, whenever that would be. The thought alone already made him shudder- he’d never been all too fond of the gatherings in the first place, but they had gotten significantly worse since, well, recent developments.

‘What about Rogue?’ he finally asked, pushing his own thoughts aside.

‘Mostly just sounded very relieved that it is all over now,’ Mikhail said, shrugging as he grabbed the TV remote to turn off the still rolling credits from whatever movie they’d watched. ‘Will you- Will you go see her?’

‘Did she say anything?’

‘No.’

‘Then I should probably just stay out of her way for a while. Best for all of us.’

That finally got a smile out of Mikhail, glancing over to look at Vincent who had kept his mouth shut but was furiously nodding and Vitali gave him a playful poke in his side, causing his boyfriend to snort and accidentally headbutt Mikhail in the arm in his delayed attempt at dodging.

‘You know what we should do?’ Mikhail asked, playful sparkle in his eyes as he jokingly pulled Vincent closer to hold him in a headlock. ‘Go on vacation. Get out of town for a little bit.’

‘Hmm- Sounds lovely,’ Vitali said with a smile, kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs up on the couch as he moved closer to the both of them and allowed Vincent to drag him in for a hug. ‘Where to?’

‘Panam and Judes are going back to Arizona for a while, meet up with Saul and the others there,’ Vincent said, holding on to Mikhail’s arm with one hand and placing the other on Vitali’s waist. ‘Could go with ‘em- or the east coast.’ He glanced up to look at Mikhail. ‘You still got family there?’

‘I do.’ His eyes briefly lingered on Vincent before moving back to Vitali, and a few soft clicks of his tongue left his lips before he continued. ‘They still want to meet you, by the way.’

Vitali softly smiled back and lowered his gaze, chest tightening a little as Mikhail spoke. He had often mentioned his extended family in their childhood; had often asked Vitali to come with him one day, and how Vitali had wanted to but had never been allowed to travel outside of town because of Nadya and her general dislike of his friend.

Things are different now. She’s not here.

He couldn’t help but wonder where she was, though. If she was doing well.

‘I’m going to bed, important day tomorrow at office.’

Mikhail finally let go of Vincent and kissed him on the head, then reached out to ruffle Vitali’s hair- receiving a fake groan in return as response- and he leaned in to give him a hug, hands on the back of Vitali’s head and running in circles on his back as Vitali dropped his head in the crook of Mikhail’s neck and briefly closed his eyes.

Everything is fine. You’ve not ruined anything.

Mikhail gave him a kiss on his temple and then finally got up from the couch, stretching and yawning before making his way toward the hallway on their left.

‘Good night, you two.’

‘Night,’ Vitali replied in unison with Vincent, who immediately mumbled ‘jinx’ after it and instantly received another poke between his ribs from Vitali. He giggled and shuffled closer, pressing his face against Vitali’s shoulder as he carefully wrapped his arms around his waist.

‘Took you long to get home,’ he murmured against Vitali’s neck, softly pressing his lips against his skin.

‘Had some things to do,’ Vitali absently replied and hooked his arm under Vincent’s leg to pull him on his lap, quickly glancing into the hallway to check if Mikhail was out of sight.

‘Nothin’ I wouldn’t do, I hope?’

Not a surprising question- and Vitali could not blame him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it; stopping by a bar on the way there, or on the way home, couple shots wouldn’t hurt him- on a surface level, at least- and at least it would cause his anxiety to settle down for the time being.

But he couldn’t do that to Vincent. Not again.

‘I went to see Vitya,’ he quietly explained himself, gently cupping Vincent’s cheek to make him look up at him, and gave him another soft smile. ‘That’s all.’

Vincent blinked a few times and then leaned in to Vitali’s touch, cheek pressing against his palm- slightly turned his head to kiss it, before turning back and gently fixing the collar of Vitali’s shirt for him. Keeping his hands busy; he was nervous.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, one of his fingers hooking into Vitali’s shirt a little bit and brushing past his collarbone. ‘Shouldn't've doubted you.’

‘Hey,’ Vitali gently interrupted him and placed his hands over Vincent’s, waiting until his attention was back on him. ‘It’s okay. I get it.’

‘No, no- it’s- I just-’

‘All of it.’

He almost startled himself with it; but it was the truth.

No amount of attempting to justify himself and his actions would take away the fact it made sense people had started to doubt him somewhere along the way. If anything, Vitali’s stubbornness had made everything ten times more complicated than had been necessary and he was surprised it hadn’t caused any bigger arguments to break out in all the time that had passed.

‘My family has always been complicated,’ he quietly continued, lowering his gaze and softly running his thumbs over Vincent’s hands. ‘I- I don’t expect you to ever understand and I know what it looks like from the outside. I do. And I can’t blame you at all.’

‘Vito-’

‘I don’t know if I’m making a mistake with this.’ A brief pause, a shaky inhale. ‘I don’t know what is going to happen next, what he will do. What I will do. But I just- I couldn’t kill him.’

‘I know, baby.’

Vincent carefully cupped Vitali’s face in both his hands and leaned in- a brief moment of hesitation, as if they’d been sent back in time and suddenly had only been together for maybe a month or two- and kissed him as sweetly as he always did, the familiar taste of his peach chapstick spilling into Vitali’s mouth as he pulled him closer.

Vitali would be lying if he said he hadn’t been scared he would never get to experience that ever again.

��Suppose it was complicated for him too,’ Vincent quietly continued, slightly pulling back and brushing his nose past Vitali’s, ‘considering- well, you know. And… I won’t fully understand it, but I understand that. Can’t fuckin’ stand my piece of shit oldest brother but if I’d find him bleeding out I- I also- you know. A little different, of course, but- I get it. I do.’

‘I never meant for any of you to get dragged into all of this,’ Vitali mumbled, keeping his eyes closed as he softly pressed his lips against Vincent’s again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You keep apologizing, but none of this is your fault. He started hunting you down- that’s on him.’

‘I should have dealt with things differently-’

‘How?’

Vincent pulled back a little further and Vitali finally opened his eyes, barely able to see his boyfriend through the blur of his own tears.

‘What would you have done differently if you could go back in time?’ Vincent asked, running his thumbs over Vitali’s cheeks. ‘What would you change?’

‘I would… I would’ve…’

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

‘Bit late, don’t you think? Or should I say early?’

Vitali’s eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled deeply, slowly dropping his head against the front door as he closed it with a soft click and reluctantly turned around to face his father- once again already dressed to leave for work, arms crossed in front of his chest.

‘They really wanted me to be there,’ he quietly mumbled in response, wincing slightly when Matvey reached out to grab his jaw and gently run his thumb past a large bruise on his cheek.

‘I can tell,’ he replied. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Are you alright, at least?’

Vitali clenched his jaw and could not force an answer out of himself.

He wouldn’t have done anything different. And he knew. And he knew that Vincent knew.

Perhaps foolish, or naive- but it had paid off in the end, as messy as it had been. Death happened each and every day in Night City and even fixers weren’t safe from that; a somewhat morbid reminder of that to mercenaries and the Council alike, and if anything it had finally woken them up after who knows how long of being so certain of their own untouchability.

Who knows how it all would have ended, had Vitali done something different? Who would have lived? Who would have died? He was no longer sure what had caused the dominos to fall in the first place- and there had been no way to prevent it from happening, years of events setting it in motion out of itself- and no one had been able to predict where the chain reaction would lead them in the end.

‘Family’s fuckin’ complicated,’ Vincent said, kissing Vitali on the forehead before getting up and walking over into the kitchen to pour the both of them a drink. ‘I’m just glad that it’s over now. And that you’re still with me.’

Vitali absently nodded, gaze wandering off to the large windows along the wall behind him, looking out over the balcony and the pier of Wellsprings, the vast ocean blending in with the dark horizon far outside the city.

And for a brief second, he could feel his entire body freeze, eyes locked onto the darkness ahead and breath caught in his throat; it felt familiar, too familiar, swallowed whole by the endless void with the feeling of eyes staring right back at him, waiting, expectantly.

‘Hey.’

Vincent had walked back to him, concerned frown decorating his brow as he sat back down next to him and gently cupped his cheek to force his gaze away from the ocean and back on him, the warmth of the light above the coffee table causing the uncomfortable feeling in his chest to settle down- but it did not vanish entirely.

‘I love you,’ Vitali quietly said, the words heavy in his mouth as he spoke and he could only barely stop a tear from escaping the corner of his eye when Vincent smiled at him and pulled him closer to his chest, the warmth of his arms finally making Vitali feel at peace again, and at home.

‘And I love you, baby. Not ever gonna change.’

Life in Night City moves fast.

Its endless crowds are an overwhelming presence during every hour of the day, under the sweltering west coast sun as well as under the blinding city lights long after dark. An ever-growing playground for corporations, fixers and fortune seekers alike- the city of dreams that swallows everyone who does not know what they’re getting themselves into whole; without remorse, and without hesitation.

A city where tragedy strikes too often for people to concern themselves with it anymore- most have grown numb after years and years of hearing the same news on the radio, and most know it’s a waste of energy to even try to care. Cut off one head and two take its place; and one seed planted can infect many at once, leaving the source of the problem nearly irrelevant in comparison to what has grown in the meantime.

Impossible to predict and impossible to control. Many have tried- many have failed- from corporations attempting to get inside people’s heads and control their every move from within to a single man taking matters into his own hands to try and rid the streets of its corruption, starting with its intricate network of fixers and mercenaries as a whole.

But in all of that, there are still people who do care. Who choose each other over and over again- who choose life, over and over again- who refuse to be stripped from their humanity and hold on to it as tightly as they hold on to each other through it all.

The city itself might never change. But people can.

That’s what makes us human after all, isn’t it?

#nuclearwriting #rbs much appreciated :) <3 #well. there it is. final chapter. cries #literally nauseous as i'm making this post and also as i'm posting this post i'm so. ough! it's over now huh!! god #i won't ramble about it too much in the tags because i don't want to spoil the experience so i'll make another post about it all later #but for now: thank you all so much for your support through this whole thang i'm very thankful for it <33 #hope you enjoyed the ride as much as i did :)#ch:the broker

15 notes · View notes

pinkelir · 2 years ago

Text

Art summary for the year!!

#Silentart #art summary 2023 #art summary #Thank you for all your support!!! <33

4 notes · View notes

skitskatdacat63 · 2 years ago

Note

We literally switched places lol catie 😭😭😭 like you've been drawing a lot lately(WHICH ISNSO AWESOME IBLOVE YOUR ART AND SKETCHES SOSOSO MUCH!!!>333) and I've been drawing so rarely like the a r t has been sucked out of me 😭😭😭😭

This message is just me admiring you arts and wishing you neverrr stop drawing !!!<33 not really a vettonso fan,didn't really know this ship existed until.well japan💀, but i can't stop looking at your art they are soosoososos cute ESPECIALLY THE BEE NANDO AND SEB FLOWERR HHJDHSH THAT WAS CUTTTE 🥺🥺🥺🥺

drawww >:3333 👍

Art block is the absolute worst isn't it, Elle???? 😭😭😭😭 I totally empathize with you because for a while I feel like I could only really finish drawings once a month or, most times, even less than that. I guess inspiration runs out and you need to revitalize yourself!! It's always good to take a break imo bcs forcing it just makes you frustrated. So I really hope you can get your motivation back 🥺🥺 it might take a while but god it's so good when it hits you again 💕💕

But yes Vettonso!!!! Such a sleeper ship imo!! I kinda kept it in the back of my mind for a while and didn't really do much with it bcs its such a small ship. But then suddenly got hit with it very deep right after Monza I think? Its very very very fun to draw for a small ship bcs I feel so connected with everyone 🥺 it's our little gang y'know!!!! The bee/flower art...soooooo funny to me oh my god, I was dying while drawing it. Like I said to Athy I mostly just like drawing my AU stuff but my god it was so fun to draw super relevant stuff this weekend!!! Also so fun to ensnare people in the vettonso brainrot 🤭🤭 yes yes look at them, look upon my boys >:)

#AAAAAAHHHHHH ELLE RECEIVEING THIS MADE ME SO HAPPYYYYYY THANNM YOUUU <33333333÷#whenever i see your namw in my askbox i get so excited!!!!!!!#also i wont lie. some of my original vettonso reasoning stemmed from the fact that theyre the only two i really like to draw #rn i am so deranged and insane and emotional about everything about them #but like. yeah part of it was kinda smashing my two top favs together like barbie dolls #but so happy to feed the preexisting fandom and also indoctrinate new people :)#but gahhhhh yeah japan seriously so fucking good to me bcs we got new pics #BUT THANK UOU FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS 🥺🥺🥺 YOURE SO SWEET YOURE GONNA MAKE ME CRY #and also thank you for your comment on my recent post!!! i appreciate your support <33 #catie.asks.

2 notes · View notes

rking200 · 8 months ago

Text

It's...not quite Sunday yet but it's time for another chapter of The Red Room! Posting a bit early so I can go to bed, I haven't had the best week </3 Join Connor as Hank and him struggle through their feelings together in this slowburn update! As always, big thanks to @connor-sent-by-cyberlife for the wonderful render.

The Red Room (75081 words) by rking200 Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Original Chloe | RT600, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Stalking, Vomiting, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Hank Anderson, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Missing Persons, Abduction, Manipulation, Death Threats, Mental Health Issues, Zlatko didn't do it, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Sex at some point Summary: Connor Stern is a law school dropout who dreams of making it big in the music industry. He manages to get into a special apprenticeship program with the musical genius Elijah Kamski and, despite working two jobs and struggling to stay afloat, feels like his dream is finally within his grasp. When Hank Anderson stumbles into the lounge Connor performs at, The Red Room, he becomes entranced with him. As Hank falls in love with Connor's voice, he ends up entangled with conflicting emotions and delicate situations. Slowly, his nights are filled with Connor's songs and his closeness, even if he feels he doesn't deserve it. They reach several roadblocks along the way of getting closer, some more dangerous than others. A collaboration written alongside Connor-sent-by-Cyberlife for the Reverse Big Bang 2024, told with a POV alternating between Hank and Connor. Chapters added weekly.

#hankcon #dbh fic #dbhrbb2024 #chapter update #i've been running a bit behind in continuing the chapters due to not feeling the best #but i should still be on-track with weekly updates #i'll let you guys know should I need to take a week off #but unless something really bad happens I shouldn't need to do that #thank you for all your support <33 I'll try to catch up to comment replies soon #this week is just kicking my ass OTL

6 notes · View notes

lokissweater · 11 months ago

Text

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!

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

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!

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @vividl3ss

18K notes · View notes