#Growing pains

[remlionheart]

Growing Pains

part three

♡ˎˊ˗ hiiii, welcome to the final installment of the fic that’s taken over my life for the last four months ♡ ̆̈ be sure to start here if you're new ♡ moving on from this story will be emotional i can’t lie, i've gotten way too invested in this but i'm very happy that i was able to see it through and hopefully do it justice. what started off as a small idea turned into something much bigger and i'm so thankful for all of the love and support you guys gave me. i love u all SO much, thanks for sticking with me on this ♡ biblically-cannon-megumi x fem!reader. slow burn. hurt / comfort. aged up characters. forced proximity. (light) enemies to lovers. eventual smut. this is what jjk could've been if fushiguro was the main character and gege would’ve been hugged as a child. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡ˎˊ˗

₊⊹♡ MDNI ₊⊹♡

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

You'd lied for him.

Despite absolutely everything– despite your better judgement, despite the sick, burning sense of anxiety that had taken over your mind and body, you'd still... covered for him. Giving Gojo vague and concise answers, fabricating lies to make Megumi's late-night disappearances seem less concerning than they actually were. Telling him that it'd just started happening instead of admitting that it'd actually been going on for nearly two months. Painting a soft, false picture that he was usually only ever gone for an hour at a time though there had been several nights he hadn't made it back until nearly 4 in the morning. Mending his worries with whatever reassuring words you could string together to make him loosen up on his questioning until he'd finally closed the door to your dorm, leaving you with a poignant– "If anything else happens, you come find me."

You weren't sure how you'd managed to hold it together so well, but the minute it was just you alone with your thoughts again, you found your hands trembling as you rushed over to his side of the room. Reminding yourself to breathe while you rummaged through his bookshelf and nightstand for any sort of explanation.

Going through his things felt wrong, but not going through them would've somehow felt worse. If you'd learned anything from your time spent with him, it was that Megumi Fushiguro was a lot of things, but deceitful without cause wasn't one of them. He wasn't the type to lie for no reason. He held his secrets unreasonably close to his chest but never out of malice. If he was hiding something, if he was lying to you, Gojo, Nobara, and Yuuji– arguably the only people he'd ever really let in, it wasn't because he wanted to.

His belongings were every bit as organized and well-guarded as he was though, hardly anything seeming suspicious or out of place no matter how many journals and textbooks you searched through. You were trying to be as meticulous as you could, doing your very best not to acknowledge the race against the clock you knew were up against or the ever-increasing weight that was sitting on your chest as you reached for the only book left– the one that you'd gifted him for his birthday.

You pushed past your body's consternation, carefully flipping through the pages when finally, a folded up loose-leaf piece of paper fell out of it, making your heart completely abandon any semblance of a steady rhythm.

It was a series of bullet-points mostly, jotted down information about reversed curse techniques and different types of healing abilities that didn't seem to go in any particular order. You were almost afraid that you'd hit another dead-end until your eyes landed on the bottom of the page. Your legs suddenly struggling to keep you upright as you trailed over his handwriting, all of the rigid pieces of the last few months gradually beginning to unravel and connect.

"Technique Name: 'Kokoro Kiri' - also known as Heart Severing," it read, "is a reversed curse technique developed to manipulate, distort, and erase memories by severing the spiritual and emotional connections tied within a person's mind. This technique utilizes cursed energy to fracture the target's emotional bonds to certain experiences and people, effectively making them unable to access specific memories."

The page nearly slipped from your grasp, your hand suddenly shaking beyond your control as you forced yourself to take a seat on the edge of his bed. Your breathing was alarmingly uneven, tears desperately trying to push their way out no matter how hard you fought to keep them at bay. As much as you wanted to lie to yourself– to naively choose to believe that all of this somehow wasn't directly related to you, you couldn't.

Reality had you backed into a corner with its steel grip locked firmly around your neck and there was no escaping it.

Your vision was blurry, the words almost bleeding together as you continued on to the last paragraph, "Memory Fragmentation– typically performed by a healer, is used to destroy emotional and cognitive connections attached to selected memories or selected people in the target's mind. In some extreme cases, a skilled enough user may even have the capability to erase large portions of their target's past or sever bonds between them and a specified individual. Unlike memory manipulation or distortion, this ability creates a void in the target's mind, leaving them with a permanent sense of disconnection from who or what was once there."

The oxygen had all but vanished from the room as you stared back at his words, a devastatingly cruel fate laid out in such pretty handwriting. It was hard to fathom, that the same hands that had touched you so gently– the ones that had played with your hair until you'd fallen asleep, the ones that had tangled into yours on the nights that neither one of you wanted to be alone were the same ones that had been carrying around the weight of this plan all along.

You knew him well enough to know that this wasn't something he'd just decided on– no, nothing Megumi ever did was half-thought-out or impulsive. He was unbearably analytical. Annoyingly thorough when it came to most things, but especially research. He'd never bother to waste his time on variables or flimsy possibilities. If he was going to do something, he had to be impossibly sure that it would work, which meant that this… this must've been a guarantee.

All of those moments of hesitation– both big and small. The layers of distance and formality. The harsh, venomous silence that he used to separate himself from you. They all finally made sense.

"Itadori. Kugisaki. Anyone else here that you meet, for that matter," he'd said, "they’re not your friends.”

The tears that streamed down your face were painful and completely unavoidable as you pulled your knees up to your chest, letting your head rest against your arm while his words continued to haunt you.

“You can’t avoid it forever." The way he'd said it had felt so cold and unwarranted at the time. "You’re gonna have to get used to loss and to keeping everyone you meet at a distance." But it'd never occurred to you until now just how necessary that conversation actually was.

It had been a warning, not for you, but for himself.

Your body was numb, mind completely overrun with questions that you weren't sure you even wanted answers to, and they just kept multiplying the longer you sat with it all.

You allowed yourself another minute to breathe before slowly unfolding your legs and using the sleeve of your hoodie to dry your cheeks. Letting your eyes drift over the page one last time as you carefully tucked it into his book again and got to your feet, wedging it back into the spot you'd taken it from.

Would he have told you? Or would you have woken up one day with a void in the place that he should've been, not even realizing that something was missing? How far did this go, exactly? If there were different degrees of memory fragmentation, where did his interest in using it begin and where did it end?

The only real thing that made sense to you was that this must've been some sort of loophole to negate his contract with Yaga. To either free you from Jujutsu Society as a whole or to break his tie to you. It was too late at this point though– after everything that had happened, you didn't want to go down either of those paths and the fact that he did, the fact that he had somehow come to terms with the entirety of this... it made you realize that maybe you'd never actually known him at all.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, abruptly pulling you back to reality as his name flashed across the screen: "No project tonight," it read, "it'll finally just be us."

You stared at the text, unable to even write back a simple reply with how hard it was to keep yourself standing upright and steady. Your thumbs hovered above the keys, almost typing, but never actually letting a full thought form before another blue bubble popped up from him: "I wish it could always just be us."

Tears were instantly pricking at the corners of your eyes again, your insides burning as your chest constricted. Precarious but determined fingertips spelling out the last bit of honesty that seemed to exist between the two of you–

"It could’ve been...”

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

He was frozen in place, the cold chill of the abandoned church that they'd been assigned to suddenly feeling like the very least haunting thing he was up against as he stashed his phone back into his pocket. Nothing had gone right since you'd dropped the three of them off. They'd been stuck in the same cathedral for hours and still hadn't found so much as a trace of cursed energy despite how small the area was.

Everyone was getting worn down and frustrated, but they didn't have the luxury of coming back empty-handed. His concern should've been on finding a solution, on checking the place over again to see if there was a hidden door or passageway that they'd somehow missed– something, anything that might lead them to the cursed object they were supposed to find. But instead, the only thought occupying his scattered, sleep-deprived mind was your use of the word "could've". The concise, intentional past-tense bite it had to it.

You were more similar to him than he'd care to admit, clumsy with your words at times and prone to rambling when nervous, but just like him, you never spoke out of turn. You were tactful. Soft-spoken, yet very deliberate when it came to expressing your feelings.

"Could've been" felt like a serrated knife because it was meant to. "Could've been" held the weight of a threat because it was one. "Could've been" implied that you knew something because–

"God, this is a pain in the ass," Kugisaki huffed, rolling a piece of rubble under her shoe as Fushiguro found himself actually pacing the longer he mulled over it. "We've looked damn near everywhere, there's nothing here!"

"Maybe Gojo gave us the wrong coordinates." Itadori shrugged, plopping himself down on one of the concrete pews as he stretched his arms behind his head.

Gojo.

Why did everything in his god-forsaken life have to lead back to Gojo?

You were the only two people at Jujutsu High with everyone else being out on missions– of course he'd tried to talk to you to see how things had been going. Gojo was constantly keeping tabs on him, always poking around to see how he was doing even when it was none of his concern. And you, being you– you'd probably been honest with him, not understanding how consequential your answers were.

The picture had become excruciatingly clear to him, what must've led up to that one single text from you. There was no wishful thinking left, no maybes or what-ifs that could possibly free him from this hell that you were both aware of now. Reality had him in the same chokehold it had you in, its grip just as merciless around his throat too– you knew and the only thing he could do was accept it.

He drew in a sharp breath, running a staggered hand over his face as his footsteps finally came to a pause. "We're withdrawing for now."

Kugisaki's eyes snapped up towards his, a blend of relief and confusion sweeping over her as she blinked back at him. "You sure?"

Fushiguro had never backed down from an assignment. Never tapped out no matter how long or grueling a mission was, but this was different. He could barely focus on anything, could barely keep himself present and coherent let alone concentrate on piecing together the layout of this abandoned building.

He needed to talk to you. Needed to get back to his room as soon as he could. It was the first time in his life that his emotions had managed to overrule his logic. Whatever was here clearly wasn't as threatening as it was thought to be– it could wait, you couldn't.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, shooting you a text to let you know that they were ready as he motioned for Itadori and Kugisaki to follow him.

"We'll come back tomorrow," he reasoned, trying to sound more sure of himself than he actually was, "we can talk to Gojo about it in the morning and reconvene when we have more information, but there's no sense in staying here all night."

He knew neither of them would fight him on the decision, they'd both been practically half-way out the door before he'd even said anything anyway.

He stuffed his hands into his jacket, a sobering gust of late-winter air swirling around him as they stepped outside and started heading towards the cafe that you'd dropped them off at earlier.

Nervousness wasn't a feeling he knew well, but it had become a deep, painful pit in the center of his stomach the closer they got to you. There was so much he had to explain, so many agonizing words that he had to somehow make seem acceptable even though they were anything but.

He hesitated as he reached for the car door, his eyes meeting yours with all the caution in the world before he finally settled into the passenger's seat and gently reached over to rest the palm of his hand on your thigh, almost flinching at the idea of you pushing him away. It was hard to process that you'd somehow become both the cause and the remedy to his distress.

Your voice was even, your composure seemingly in-tact, but the way you looked at him... your glossy, defeated stare told a completely different story than the nonchalant facade you were putting on for your friends.

The ride back was unnervingly calm– you, Itadori, and Kugisaki all chatting back and forth, the volume of the radio getting turned up and down every few minutes depending on the song, Kugisaki's laughter echoing from the backseat at something Itadori had said. He found his grip tightening around your leg in a feeble attempt to stop his racing thoughts while his head rested against the window when the warmth of your hand landed on top of his. Your eyes subtly drifting over to him with more reassurance than he deserved.

His heart was lodged in his throat by the time you pulled into the parking lot, each step feeling more damning than the last as you made your way to the dorms until you'd finally reached the end of the hall. You both waved and said your goodnights to Itadori and Kugisaki before you dug your key out of your hoodie and opened the door, leaving him alone with you and the truths he couldn't possibly say.

It was quiet, the tension in the room absolutely suffocating as you stripped out of your coats and put your uniforms away, dodging glances from each other while changing into your usual sleepwear. He took a seat on the side of his bed, his pulse ringing through his ears as he watched you put your hair up in the mirror.

He could see your apprehension– the internal debate of whether to say something or stay silent. The indecision of retreating back to your bed or his. It was in every movement you made, every small detail of your mannerisms plagued with a sense of uncertainty that made him ache.

He swallowed hard as he reached his hand out to you, "Can you–" He cleared his throat, watching you slowly turn to face him. "Can you come here?"

The same hurt he was feeling was reflected in your gaze, your breathing coming to a visible stop as you struggled to look back at him.

"Please?"

His voice was barely a whisper, wavering and broken but still strong enough to pull you in.

You turned off the light before taking his hand, letting his arms wrap around you as you burrowed yourself into his chest. The familiar scent of him settling your nerves while his lips pressed against the top of your head and his fingertips began drawing soft, hazy patterns along your shoulder. The two of you welcoming the calm silence that followed as you sank further into the safety of one another.

Growing up, you'd never really known if home was supposed to be a place or a feeling. You'd lost it so many years ago, you figured there wasn't much sense in giving significance to a word that didn't belong in your vocabulary anymore anyway, but finally being with him after the day that you'd both had... You quickly realized that maybe it still did exist after all– not as a place or a feeling, but as both. It was here, right inside the small space between you. It was this, the sound of his heart beating steadily against your temple.

It was him and there was going to come a day where you'd wake up without the privilege of even being able to remember the beauty of what you'd lost.

Your chest heaved against your will, tears soaking his shirt as they spilled down your cheeks, the weight of it all becoming far too crippling to bear. Your arms locked around his waist desperately. Hopeless, childlike thoughts suddenly soaring through your mind like– maybe if you held onto him tight enough, you could somehow stay here forever, maybe if you could find the right things to say then time wouldn't have to carry on.

His grasp mirrored yours, holding you as steady as he could while letting out soft little nothings that all bled together, “Shh, it's okay. I've got you." and "Please breathe, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He was dangerously close to his own breaking point too though, the only thing holding him together was the need to be strong for you. His resolve was crumbling, every wall he'd ever built absolutely annihilated by the feeling of your nails digging into his sides as you clung onto him like he was the most important thing in the world.

"I don't–want–" you shook your head at the thought, your words choppy and almost impossible to get out. "I don't... want to– leave you."

He let out a semblance of an exhale, fighting to keep his hands from shaking as he guided you down onto the bed with him so that you were both laying down with his arms still wrapped around you and your head back on his chest.

The way you trembled against him as he ran his fingers through your hair was the exact reason why he'd kept all of this hidden in the first place– the same reason why he'd tried so hard to keep his distance from you. This pain would've always been inevitable for him, but it shouldn't have been for you.

He continued to brush away your tears, more reassuring whispers spilling out every so often until your body finally started to relax. Your breathing gradually coming back down to a normal pace while his thumb traced along your neck.

"If it were up to me," he swallowed, forcing his vision to stay pointed up at the ceiling. "Things would be different."

You lifted your head slightly, your eyes roaming over his face as your fingers absentmindedly tangled into the collar of his shirt.

"You'd stay here with me. We'd graduate together." He rested a hand over his forehead to keep himself distracted from the weight of your stare, knowing it was the only way he could the next part out. "But, that's not how this place works– things are rarely good and when they are, they don't last long. There's... a lot– so much you don't know about the contract that's keeping you here."

Your lips parted, but no words came out, your shoulders suddenly stiff again as you watched him.

"I haven’t been protecting you because Yaga told me to or because Gojo told me to or even because it was my assignment to... I’ve been protecting you because it's what I promised myself I would do."

It was like looking into a storm over the ocean when his eyes met yours again, graveness mixed guilt. "I need you to listen to me, okay? Really listen to me. This doesn't leave this room. This doesn't leave us."

You gave him a slow nod, chills splintering down your spine as he cupped your face with his hand.

"Yaga's original plan to have you executed didn't necessarily end just because I intervened. All I was able to do was postpone it and have the responsibility of who would carry it out be... transferred."

The air had officially been stolen from your lungs.

"My job? My actual mission when it comes to you? Is to monitor you. To watch you. To see if you'll have any lingering effects after coming into contact with Sukuna's finger as a non-sorcerer. You might as well be a science experiment to Yaga and the other higher-ups.” The disgust in his voice was thick, heavy. “I'm supposed to be the one to make sure nothing goes wrong while you're here. I'm contracted to keep close tabs on you to ensure that if Sukuna takes over Yuuji's body to try and coax information out of you, you aren't able to give it to him..."

It was the first time you'd seen his emotions evolve past his usual irritability or stoicism. He'd finally reached the core of it. The root of all of the negativity that he had bottled up inside of him for so long. It wasn't something as simple as anger or resentment– no, it was... grief that he’d been facing.

"The agreement was never for me to keep you safe, it was for me... to kill you if you became too much of a liability." He could barely look at you, his jaw clenched, the room blurred by tears he wasn't prepared to shed.

"That's why– I leave every night... I got Shoko to tip me off to a healer on the outskirts of Tokyo and we've been... going over different techniques... I've been burying myself in research, trying to figure out–" He paused, more violent waves of shame crashing over him as his thumb continued to lightly trace your jawline. "Trying to figure out the least invasive way to go about this because I– don't want it to... hurt. I want you to be able to keep as many memories as you can. I... want it to be... quick and painless. I– just want you to be... safe. Safe and out of here. That's all I care about."

You were crying again, but this time for both of you, for every single dismal decision that had been made and led to this.

You almost felt selfish for your own feelings, finally seeing the full scope of his. He'd saved you– again and again. And even after managing to find a way to do it one last time, he was still on the losing side of it. He would always be bound to the knowledge of what he'd done to you no matter how much time passed. You'd go on to not remember him, but oh god, would he remember you.

He'd been mourning you since the day you arrived and it'd only been getting worse with each day that he woke up with your body pressed against his. Even when he fought to find solutions, they still came with such a steep price that they ended up feeling like losses in disguise.

Neither side of this was fair. You'd be a late-night what-if that haunted him for the rest of his life and he'd be that place between sleep and awake for you. That confusing, gut-wrenching feeling of waking up and missing someone so immensely only to question if they'd ever really existed or not.

Both of your fates were equally cruel in vastly different ways, but realizing the selflessness behind his plan made something inside of you break. Everything he'd done, all of it, had always been for... you.

His hands were firm and secure against the sides of your face as he guided you up to him, looking back at you with all of the strength he had left.

"You've gotta trust me, okay?" Even through your own tears, you could still see his too. Just barely pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear like he'd done so many times before only none of it felt the way it should've. "I'll get you out of here. I won't let anything happen to you. But I need you to promise you won't fight me on this because.... it's the only way... we have to be in this together. Please."

Your breathing was staggered, your mind completely overwhelmed by promises you couldn't possibly make but had to. Feelings you absolutely couldn't lose but had to.

"What happens to you?" You faltered. "After all of this is said and done– where will it leave you?"

You couldn't help but think that the somber smile that cut across his face was one of the prettiest and most devastating things you'd ever get to see in your life.

"Doesn't really matter..." he whispered, featherlight touches still trailing across your skin. "I get to know that you're okay and that's enough."

His grip tightened around you, delicately pulling you closer to him until his mouth was grazing yours. "Promise me."

You wouldn't– you wouldn't do this for anyone else in the entire fucking world, and yet, you'd do it... for him. Your voice was shattered, barely audible as you finally agreed.

"Promise."

He rested his forehead against yours, taking a moment to soak you in. To share the same space as you. To hold you and know that he didn't have to let go just yet.

"You know, I used to watch you too." he said, lips softly pressing into yours as more tears spilled down your cheeks. "Across from the courtyard– you sat in the very back corner with a book in your hand. I always liked that about you."

You shook your head in disbelief with a half-hearted smile as he kissed you, again and again, more easy little confessions from him slipping out between breaths. Quietly reminiscing while he played with your hair, easing the room back into its usual calm state before he reached for the comforter and wrapped it around the two of you, letting your head nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

He watched you intently as you slowly began to drift off, your words tapering down to incoherent little hums while your body tangled further into his. Exhaustion finally stealing you away. He laid as still as he could, memorizing the ceiling pattern while the sound of your breathing mixed with the snow tapping against the window. The warmth of your skin perfectly contrasting the frigid temperatures outside.

Maybe Gojo had been right after all– because from where he was laying, he really couldn’t imagine any curse or nightmare or hell that was scarier than what he was feeling right now.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

The next day was a blur.

Ijichi returned back to class– but you didn't, refusing to leave the comfort of Megumi's bed. As much as you both needed to keep up appearances to avoid any more suspicion being tossed his way from the higher-ups, he still didn't fight you when you told him you weren't going. "I just..." you'd hesitated, your body not at all ready to untangle itself from the faux safety of his sheets. "I think I need a day to..."

"I get it." His eyes were just as exhausted and heavy as yours, but he'd still tucked you in anyway, gently wrapping his blanket around your shoulders as his stare lingered over you for a moment. "Don't worry about Ijichi," he said, "I'll tell him you're not coming. Shouldn't be a big deal. Just... try and get some rest."

You'd nodded, a seed of guilt settling into the pit of your stomach for not being able to pull yourself together when you knew he didn't have any other choice. He didn't fault you for it though– instead, he'd kissed the side of your cheek, whispering a soft but impossible, "It's gonna be alright." before smoothing down the collar of his uniform and heading out the door.

All of the progress that you'd made over the last six months– all of the painfully naïve optimism that you'd been clinging onto about finding purpose and normalcy suddenly felt so hollow, cruel almost. If Megumi's plan played out the way it was supposed to, it meant that you had approximately 9 days left until your mind would be permanently altered in ways that you couldn't even begin to let yourself try and comprehend.

You'd decided that you'd return back to class tomorrow– you'd take your meaningless little quizzes on probability and ratios and listen to Ijichi's lectures and do your very best to pretend that it didn't feel like your insides were catching fire with each passing minute. You'd put your best fake smile forward and go through the motions no matter how much of a slow death it felt like, because that's what you promised Megumi you'd do. But until tomorrow came, you weren't leaving his bed for anything.

You drew in a sharp breath, willing time to stop, even if just for a second as you attempted to declutter your thoughts. Maybe it was a coping mechanism or maybe it was because you were all too aware of the fact that soon, they'd no longer be there, but you couldn't stop yourself from sifting through old memories. Digging through the recesses of your mind like it was an old attic, letting nostalgia crash over you so hard you were almost afraid you wouldn't be able to find your way back to the present.

It started off slow, little snippets and fragments of mid-July air and the sound of your childhood best friend's laughter. Easy things like swing sets and waking up to the smell of fresh-baked bread at your grandma's house, but then you really started to remember the details. The duality and nuances of that house...

You rolled over as you rested your head in your hand, a painful static rippling through your mind.

You'd had to start over so many times in life– from the unexpected death of your parents when you were a kid, to moving into your grandma's house the summer before middle school after she'd gained full custody of you... She'd always been so kind and gentle but also feeble with a slew of health issues surrounding her. You'd been terrified when you'd lost her freshmen year, completely unsure of what your fate would be. You'd managed to avoid foster care though, quietly living in her house alone since it was already paid off. Keeping the utilities and yourself afloat with the small bank account she'd left you with.

"Come by my place after school," you'd never forget how relieved you were when he'd offered his house for that project instead of asking about yours.

Your life had been uprooted more times than you could count, everyone you'd ever loved ended up being torn away from you in the most unexpected and unfair ways imaginable... But even with everything that you'd faced, there was still nothing that could've prepared you for what happened at that party.

Your best friend who went with you... the way she held your hand while the two of you browsed through thrift stores and laughed together. She was the only one back then who really knew your situation...

"Fifteen fatalities have been reported so far, but we're still keeping an eye on it." She was your immediate first thought, yet another part of yourself that you'd lost only this time, it had been your fault. "Usually when something like this happens, the numbers climb more often than they fall."

Your fingers tangled into Megumi's blanket, the smell of him swirling around you as tears streamed down your face. While he may have carried the weight of it differently than you did, he wasn't the only one who had been forced to deal with loss. It'd been a haunting and viciously persistent theme in your life too, one that you were painfully tired of having to accept.

Your head was throbbing, your eyes closing to try and block out the rest of it when a knock at the door forced you back into the room.

"It's me!" Yuuji called out, his voice just as familiar and comforting as it always had been. "Promise I'll be in and out, I just wanted to drop off some curry for you."

You swallowed hard before rubbing a hand over your face to steady yourself. You didn't need a mirror to tell you that you looked like hell, but you still stole a quick glance at yourself anyway as you made your way to the door, cringing at the distraught reflection that stared back at you.

"Sorry to drag you out of bed when you're sick but Fushiguro said that..." The way his face fell as his eyes trailed over you made your stomach drop. "What happened...?"

You shook your head, offering him the most sincere smile you could manage. "Just... a really bad migraine." You shrugged, taking the bag of food from him. "I've been trying to sleep it off, I'll be alright."

You knew he didn't believe you.

“A migraine?”

"Yeah, they come out of nowhere sometimes." You nodded, a tidal wave of guilt washing over you for so blatantly lying to him. “I should be okay by tomorrow. It's really not a big deal."

"Right..." He hesitated, doing his best to map out his words. “Well, you know that if you’re not okay tomorrow… or the day after that… you can talk to me, right?”

The only thing you could do was nod again, the lump in your throat threatening to break as you fought the overwhelming urge to grab his wrist and ask him to sit with you. To tell him how much you were going to miss him. To tell him how much he and Nobara meant to you. To tell him that even if you didn't remember them, they'd always be a part of your heart... But you couldn't, you couldn't say hardly anything between the weight of his concern and Megumi's secret.  

He waited another few seconds, his apprehension to leave you alone palpable. But when you didn't say anything else, he finally took a step back. “Just... get to feeling better, okay?"

You nodded again, your voice catching as you said, “I will."

He shot you a faint smile and you did your best to return it before he disappeared back down the hall towards the sound of Nobara's voice. "She okay?" You heard her ask as you closed the door.

Everything in your life had always been fleeting and temporary but knowing that they were too was a level of a pain that you weren't ready to face. Your hands shook as you set the bag of curry down on the nightstand and fell back into Megumi's bed, curling into yourself as a sob racked through your body without warning.

You'd experienced more grief than you could ever put into words, and still, nothing had ever hurt quite like this.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

Megumi's footsteps were light when he returned, his movements cautious as he approached you, glancing over at the untouched food by his bed.

He ran a gentle hand along your back, trying his best to keep you comfortable despite the selfish part of him that wanted to wake you up and bury his head into your chest after a long day.

You shifted, your hand instinctively reaching out for his as your eyes started to open, your surroundings still a blur. It was later than you'd anticipated it being, the moon just barely lighting up his side of the room. 

"You should eat," he said quietly, his thumb rubbing patterns into the inside of your palm.

"I know." You winced, your stomach burning at the thought. "I just... can't right now."

A blend of understanding and worry flickered through his stare as he pressed a light kiss onto the top of your hand. It wasn't like he'd necessarily been taking the best care of himself either the last few weeks.

He kicked off his shoes, stripping down into a t-shirt and boxers before laying down with you, the warmth of your body settling over him in a way he didn't realize he needed until he had it again.

A small smile crept across your face as he nestled into you, his tired arms wrapping around your waist while your fingers threaded through his hair, your nails just barely grazing his scalp. His legs were cold against yours, the sobering smell of winter air and pine filling the space between you.

You stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the sound of his breathing as it gradually began to sync with yours. It was rare that he clung to you like this, but it never failed to make you feel safe, like the rest of the world couldn't touch you as long as he was near you. 

The thought was soft when it first entered your mind, deceptively dreamy and trancelike with the way it had flowed in so easily. It was warmth, comfort, and... panic.

Your pulse quickened as the sentence echoed through your mind again, louder this time. Three words that you couldn’t possibly let yourself hold onto. Three words that represented everything you were losing. The feeling shifted from something gentle and manageable to sharp and serrated as it started to press against your ribs, demanding space you couldn’t afford to give it. Your fingers stilled in his hair, another rush of static and tears suddenly clouding your vision.

“Hey.”

His voice was low and steady as it cut through the haze, his hand brushing against your side. He propped himself up, tentatively hovering above you while his eyes searched yours. He could feel your heart racing, the way it was practically trying to beat through your chest.

"Breathe for me, okay?" He reached for your hand, but you could barely register it, a haze of anxiety replacing reality as your surroundings began to blur together.

You grabbed the side of your head, desperately closing your eyes to try and escape it, but the static in your mind only continued to spread. The room faded in and out, the edges of his face blurring together as the panic attack swept over you with vengeance. All of the things you wanted to say but couldn't. All of the feelings that you'd tried to bury but couldn't– they were all right there, right at the forefront of the storm.

Your fingers tangled into the fabric of Megumi's shirt, his face just inches apart from yours. He was still talking, still trying to keep you steady, but it wasn't working. There was a deafening ringing in your ears. A sea of scattered thoughts and displaced emotions crashing down around you. And then–

Nothing.

The static had somehow lifted, the suffocating wave of fear dying down. Your panic gradually replaced by what felt like an impossible stillness as he continued to hold you.

"Hey," the franticness in his voice was something you'd never heard before. "Look at me. Please, just–"

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, your vision clearing as you let the hand that you had pressed to your forehead fall back down to your side. 

The relief he felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by something else entirely as you froze again, your gaze locking onto something over his shoulder. 

You thought they were shadows at first– the type of looming figures that you'd see out of the corner of your eye when you'd been up for too long. The ones that would disappear with a simple blink, but the two sets of glowing eyes staring back at you were only becoming more and more visible the longer you looked at them.

Your head tilted slightly, taking in the mix of black and white fur, the matching red markings that decorated their foreheads before the smaller one took a step towards you, its movements gentle but seemingly protective as it laid beside you at the edge of the bed.

Megumi shifted, his shoulders visibly stiffening as he watched your reaction– the way your eyes carefully drifted over the Shikigami next to you. He drew in a sharp breath, keeping his tone as even as he could despite his own fears rising, realizing what this meant.

“You can see them... can’t you?”

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

The sun had just started to creep in through the blinds, but Megumi hadn't slept at all. He laid with his eyes closed and his mind racing for the better part of the night, tracing delicate patterns along your skin any time you'd start to stir.

"It's more common than you'd think," Gojo said as they walked across the training field, the August sun beating down on both of them. "Negativity takes on all kinds of different forms, it's not always as black and white as we make it out to be."

Megumi had shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes pointed down at the track as they made their way past two first-years struggling to land a hit on each other. "But if curses only become visible when someone's on the brink of death, then why –"

"That's not the only time it happens." Gojo interjected, "There are exceptions, just like anything else. All it takes is for enough grief and despair to hit someone at just the right frequency and..." He snapped his fingers, pulling Megumi's attention towards him again. "A non-sorcerer would be able to start seeing things they shouldn't– curses, residuals, it would all become visible to them."

Megumi's pace slowed, his brows furrowing the longer he thought about it. "And you think that's what happened to him?" He finally asked, "You think he just... spiraled so hard that he stumbled into this world by accident?"

"More or less." Gojo rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "Look, Junpei was a perfect example of what can happen when all the wrong things line up exactly at the right time. All that bullying, that isolation, losing his mom– his entire life was one long string of pain and anger. That much negativity? It doesn’t usually just sit quietly. It festers. And in his case, it built up to the point where it broke through the usual barriers."

Megumi paused, trying but failing to block out how hard Yuuji had taken his death over the last month. "And cases like him– exceptions like Junpei are... common?"

Gojo's smirk faltered, his hand resting easily on Megumi's shoulder as he bent slightly to meet his gaze. "All I'm saying is that they're not unheard of. Even the strongest people have their limits."

The memory had replayed itself so many times he could barely distinguish the present from nostalgia by the time you woke up next to him. He'd known that he was on borrowed time from the moment you'd arrived, but now... even that was gone.

His grip on you was light but firm as you started to stretch your legs, your eyes barely having the chance to open before your own thoughts began to spiral. No matter how much he tried to keep you calm, the demon dogs staring back at you were a solid reminder of where the two of you stood.

"We have to go... tonight, don't we?"

The silence that followed made your chest tighten, your hand shaking as your fingertips dug into the side of his arm. You drew in a breath before nodding in defeat, sparing him from having to be the one to say it.

You knew the second it had happened that this was what was coming, but there was still something so unexplainably damning about how it felt settling over the two of you. This was the last morning you’d wake up beside him. The last time you’d get to see him like this– soft and unguarded in ways no one else would ever know.

Your lips parted with those three words still desperately clinging to the tip of your tongue, but you managed to swallow them down, refusing to make things worse than they already were. It was the second time in only a few short minutes that you'd been the one to spare him.

His hand caught yours, your quiet acceptance hitting you both in steady but unrelenting waves as you laid together, your feelings embedded into every touch and every movement you made. It was tangible, absolutely everywhere in the space between you, and maybe… that was enough.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

The hours went by like minutes, a heavy sense of finality and dread clinging onto even the most mundane things– from the way it felt to help Megumi with the buttons on his uniform while the two of you got ready together to the car ride where you'd had to take him, Yuuji, and Nobara back to the same church that they'd failed their previous mission at. It was all painfully familiar and foreign at once.

You were digging mental graves for friends that were still very much alive. Glancing over at Yuuji with a small smile as he leaned up to the front of the car to make sure you were actually feeling better. Knowing that this was your last day with him and having to push down the grief of not being able to give him or Nobara a proper goodbye. Kissing Megumi– really kissing him before you left and trying not to break down at the way his eyes lingered on you as you drove off. Every interaction you had was somehow more futile than the last and yet, you had no choice but to endure it.

By the time you reached Ijichi, you were more than ready to take a seat and tune out the rest of the world with one of his infamously dry lectures, but even his monotone voice and horrible puns were finding ways to tug at your heartstrings. Your mind wandered back to your first week with him– how welcome he'd made you feel without even meaning to. His classroom had always felt like more of a reprieve than a punishment, a quiet comfort amongst the chaos.

You shook your head, fighting past the tears that were threatening to spill over as you busied yourself with one of the ratio equations he had on the whiteboard when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You swallowed hard, watching his name flash across the screen before getting up and promptly making your way out into the hall.

He'd never called on you while on a mission.

"Hey," you exhaled, "is everything–"

"We found a special grade curse." He said breathlessly, "Nobara– she's alright, but I need you to come get her and take her back to Shoko."

The phone nearly slipped from your hand, the loud, piercing background noise coupled with Yuuji's panicked, 'Fushiguro!' made your heart feel like it was going to stop altogether.

You looked back at Ijichi from over your shoulder as Megumi continued talking, giving you instructions on what to do when you got there, but your focus was suddenly everywhere else.

"Gojo..." You hesitated, "Do you want me to bring him? Just in case–"

"No," his voice was sharp, leaving little room for protest. "No, Itadori and I can handle it, I just need you to come get her, okay?"

You hated the knot that had formed in your stomach, the nervousness that danced through your veins as you reluctantly agreed, telling him you'd be there as soon as you could.

When working as an assistant, sorcerers are always to take top priority regardless of the situation, it was one of the first lessons he'd gone over with you, though neither one of you had any way of knowing at the time that you'd one day be using it against him...

You zipped up your coat, shaking away the thought as you headed down the faculty stairs and dug your set of keys out of your pocket. You didn't have time for remorse– not now, and not when the lies you’d told would be forgotten by the end of the night anyway.

The cold air nipped at your face, snow still blowing haphazardly across the parking lot as you climbed into the driver's seat, overwhelmed and completely unaware of the set of eyes that had been following you since you'd left Ijichi's classroom.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

The drive there was a blur, your mind flooding with nothing but worse-case scenarios and scattered images of Nobara laughing and holding your hand as the two of you walked down the hallway together.

Knowing that she was hurt... knowing that she needed a healer while also not knowing the extent of her injuries amidst the stress of everything else you were already facing had your foot heavy on the gas pedal, your car slightly shaking from the gravel road you were on.

The city lights had vanished a few miles back, the grey overcast not helping your case as you struggled to make out buildings in the late January haze of snow and poorly marked country roads. You weren't sure if it was relief or more dread that swirled through your stomach when your GPS started to chime, but it was too late to let yourself indulge in either.

Your throat tightened when you finally spotted it– an old worn-down cathedral in the middle of a seemingly empty field, surrounded by fresh debris and rubble that only made your anxiety swell. It was the first time you'd ever been to an actual pick-up spot. The first time you'd been exposed to the things that Megumi had tried so hard to keep you sheltered from.

You peered through the icy windshield, searching but failing to find any sign of her. "She'll be out front waiting for you when you get here so just stay in the car." He'd said, "She'll come to you, okay?" Even after you'd agreed though, he still repeated it back with an unnerving amount of conviction laced into his words. "Promise me– you won't get out of the car."

Your hands trembled as you pulled out your phone and began dialing his number, squeezing your eyes shut to try and block out just how wrong all of this felt. Each unanswered ring seemed to drag by slower than the last, your pulse thrumming through your ears by the time his voicemail echoed through the receiver.

You'd done everything that he'd asked and so much more. You'd kept his secrets. You'd protected him. You'd lied for him. You'd cared for him in more ways than you could ever bring yourself to say aloud. But this was one promise you were quickly realizing you wouldn't be able to keep as you watched a familiar thick, black smog seep out through the cracks in the boarded-up windows of the church. Another powerful thud reverberating with such intensity that it shook the ground beneath you.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, though you weren't sure if you were saying it to him or yourself as you reached for the door handle.

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

Your breathing came to a halt the moment that your feet hit the ground. The air was impossibly dense, contaminated with a thick layer of smoke that seemed to tangle around your limbs the closer you got to the entrance.

You could practically hear Megumi's voice screaming at you to turn around, but you forced yourself to push past it as you approached the edge of the broken stone staircase, redirecting your focus on where and where not to step.

The entryway was completely shattered, the heavy wooden doors splintered and hanging off of their hinges. You held your breath as you squeezed your way through a small opening, doing everything you could to keep yourself steady despite the trail of fog that seemed to follow you.

Your pace was meticulous, each movement calculated while you navigated your way through the wreckage. It wasn't until you saw the faint waves of light flashing through the darkness that you froze. Your eyes snapped towards the back of the church, watching in quiet horror as the unmistakable hum of cursed energy exploded across the room in bursts.

You were stuck somewhere between fight or flight– your legs carrying you with agility you didn't even know you had as you broke into a sprint. You ducked, taking cover behind one of the destroyed pillars, just narrowly dodging a support beam that came crashing down when a hand suddenly reached out for you.

"'The hell were you thinking–" she coughed, her voice still maintaining its usual firmness despite how feeble it was. "You know you shouldn't be here."

"Nobara," you breathed, your hand cupping her face to wipe away the red rolling down her cheek. Her body was lax, slumped against the remains of a wooden pew with blood dripping from her hairline down to her chin.

Your insides felt like they were on fire, adrenaline flooding your system quicker than you could keep up with as you scanned the area for the most manageable way out before looking back at her. "I'm not leaving you here." You promised, your body acting faster than your brain as you reached for her arm and slung it over your shoulder.

"Are you insane? You can't just–"

"You'd do it for me, wouldn't you?" The question was sharp enough to slice through the tension, time seeming to stop even if only for a second when her eyes met yours.

"Of course I would." She conceded, slowly lifting herself up as she leaned on you for support. "Megumi's gonna... kill you though."

It was one of the first times you'd really smiled in the last three days. "I think I'll be alright."

The calm was momentary though, another amethyst-colored beam tearing through the air. "Hold onto me." You said, tightening your grip around her waist.

Shattered stone cascaded around the two of you, your breath catching in your throat as the cursed energy spiked again, sharper and heavier than before. It almost felt alive with the way it twisted around your legs– that same fear, that same dread from the night Megumi had saved you creeping over you once more. The burning sensation seeped into your pores the higher up it climbed, rooting itself into your chest.

Your movements were strained, each step forward nearly knocking the wind out of you as you shielded Nobara from more falling debris, both of you crouching behind an abandoned altar.

The entrance was just within your reach if you could manage to keep yourself upright and steady, the light from the outside barely grazing the edge of the corridor. Right as you shifted your weight to stand though– a low, guttural growl reverberated across the floor sending another wave of what felt like rogue electricity beneath your skin.

"Fuck," you hissed, your vision becoming blurry as you fought to keep your focus.

"Leave me here," Nobara insisted, trying but failing to shake you off of her. "Look, Yuuji's right over there, he can grab me when he–"

But her demands came to an abrupt end as the two of you became frozen in place, the curse emerging from the shadows to reveal a series of vine-like limbs and skin that resembled ancient bark. The size of it alone was enough to make your heart forget how to beat, but the second its eyes landed on you, the earth seemed to still entirely.

"What the–" Megumi's voice broke through the chaos, the weight of his stare crippling when he spotted you from across the room, his frustration and concern palpable even from where he was standing.

"Go!" He shouted, another Shikigami already forming in front of him.

The figure tilted its head as if it were studying you, the pressure of its gaze pinning you to the floor. It wasn’t just fear this time– it was something deeper, almost primal that wrapped around your spine and pulled tight as the taunting hum of its cursed energy crackled into the space between you. Its floral patterns glowing faintly in the dim light with its vines curling and writhing carefully towards you.

“Why do you fight so hard to protect something so fleeting?”

“Kugisaki!” Megumi stiffened, his hands stretched out in front of him like weapon as Nuu lunged toward the curse, but he wasn't even able make it halfway to you before a branch-like limb sprawled out and slammed the demon dog into the ground with a force that shook the foundation of the already crumbling building.

Your head felt like it was going to explode, your thoughts and emotions bleeding into each other all at once as its question repeated on an unwanted loop.

Fleeting.

“Listen to me!” Nobara’s voice suddenly felt distant, blurred by an odd sense of clarity that had started to wash over you. “Leave me here. You have to go!”

It was right– your life had been made up of nothing more than fleeting contentment and memories that weren't made to last. The things that you were trying so hard to fight for would be gone by tomorrow, just like everything else, but they were here now and so were you. If this had to be your last day with them– if losing Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara was truly inevitable no matter what choice you made, then you'd do everything you could to protect them.

“No,” you said, the word falling from your lips before you even realized it. “I told you I’m not leaving you.”

The curse moved again, swift but intentional, closing the distance between you while its vines began to thrash, leaving more broken concrete beneath its force. Megumi yelled your name, his expression dropping as he watched the somber smile that cut across your face when your eyes met his.

"Don't!" He warned, his hands cast backout in front of him, but your mind was already made up.

You secured your grip on Nobara, forcing her to lean more heavily on you while you dragged her a few steps closer to the fragmented remains of the entrance. You were so close– just a few more feet and you could hand her off to Yuuji, who was locked in a struggle of his own ahead of you.

But close wasn’t enough.

The energy in the room surged again, its presence suddenly suffocating and absolutely everywhere as thick, sharp tendrils snared around your legs. Your body felt like it had caught fire, the white-hot heat of its touch making your vision flicker in and out as it started to pull you backward, Nobara's weight shifting dangerously against you.

Your jaw clenched, your ears ringing as you fought to garner up every ounce of strength you had left to push forward. You were desperate, every step seeming to tear something essential out of you, but still, you moved.

Another blinding wave of pain hit you– the curse’s vines snapping again, just barely missing your head as they shattered another fixture above you. It was a storm of debris and splintered wood, making it hard to tell where its limbs began and the church's destruction ended.

“Yuuji!” you screamed, your voice raw as your stare caught his. “Take her!"

He was stunned, too worn-down and short on time to argue with you.

Your adrenaline was exhausted, every part of your body ready and willing to collapse, but with one final push, you managed to shove Nobara toward the faint light spilling out through the ruined entryway.

She staggered, her legs barely holding her as Yuuji lunged forward, catching her in his arms right before she fell. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to really breathe since you'd found her, a warm sense of relief cutting through the pain.

But it didn't take long for it to vanish, the crushing reality of the curse now looming over you suddenly outweighing any amount of comfort you'd once had.

Its grip coiled tighter around your legs, your body going limp as it dragged you back once more. There was static in your veins, an overwhelming pressure pushing down on your ribs, the taste of copper filling your mouth.

This was it.

The background commotion slowly tapered down, your senses gradually disconnecting from your body as the chapel started to drift further and further away. A surreal sense of acceptance wrapped around you like a warm hug. No more fighting, no more flailing– it was just you and the comfortable abyss that you were sinking into. Just you and the memories that you were able to keep until the very end. If you had to die in one way or another tonight, at least you were able to do it knowing that you had spared him one last time.

There was a distorted fluttering feeling in your chest. A dizziness in your brain. A hazy montage of impossibly blue eyes and all the things you should've said.

And then,

it all,

faded,

to black...

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

Megumi's head was throbbing when his eyes finally opened again, his stomach still in knots as he blinked back tears, trying to piece together where he’d ended up. He was sprawled out on a familiar grey leather couch with a knit blanket carefully tucked over him. The rigid winter air only amplifying his headache as it knocked against the window of his office.

“'Bout time you woke up."

His mind was overrun with the fractured pieces of what had happened, sensations and memories coming back in painful waves: The leveled church. The sound of glass shattering as he channeled his domain expansion. The feeling of your body pressed against his before everything vanished…

“Where’s..." The panic he felt was all-consuming, time coming to a grinding halt when he realized that he was the only one recovering. “Where is she...?"

Gojo's smirk was nowhere to be found, his stare softening a bit as he took a step towards him. "I talked to Shoko,"

"– And?" Megumi demanded.

"She told me about your sudden interest in Kokoro Kiri," his tone was light despite how pointed his words were, "Usually used for memory manipulation and soul severing, right? Causes the victim to forget specific people and events?"

"You know that's not what I meant–" Megumi snapped, "Is she...?" His face was flushed, his nerves completely shot as he struggled to swallow down the rest of his question. "Look, I don't care what happens to me after this, I'll take whatever punishment the higher-ups decide on, but I need to know what happened to her. Please, just..."

Gojo's demeanor was eerily calm, his hand resting easily on Megumi's shoulder as he bent down to become eye-level with him.

"If I had to guess," he paused, "She's probably still asleep."

Megumi's lips parted but the only thing that came out was a jagged exhale, his breathing coming out in short, choppy intervals. "So she's..." His head was spinning, relief and fear both clinging onto him at once. "She's okay, then? I mean, she's not...?"

"She's got some pretty deep cuts on her legs– probably gonna end up with a scar or two once she's fully healed, but other than that," A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched the life slowly return back to Megumi's eyes. "She's alright."

The tone of the room shifted into something more manageable despite the multitude of other unanswered questions that still sat between them. Megumi's hands shook slightly as he ran them over his face, images of the ruins he'd left behind coming back in flashes.

"You took down a special grade curse by yourself before I got there," Gojo said, almost sounding proud as he took a seat next to him. "I still had to clean up the aftermath of course, but..."

His stare lingered on him for a moment, the amusement in his tone fading, "She must be pretty important to you, huh? Making you tap into your full potential like that?"

Megumi hesitated, his gaze drifting to the floor as he nodded, remembering a brief conversation they'd had last year during a training session. "Yeah," he admitted quietly, "she is."

"You could've asked me for help, you know." Gojo shifted in his seat, letting out his own sigh while he rested his chin in his hands. "You should've asked me for help. You've gotta quit thinking that you can handle everything by yourself."

Megumi's jaw tightened, his words hanging heavily between them.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gojo pressed, tilting his head at him as their eyes met again. "About the details of your contract? About the healer you've been seeing? Do you have any idea how bad that could've ended for you? For both of you, if you would've gone through with it?"

"I thought you already knew," Megumi bit back, exasperated by the fact that he was even asking in the first place. "You were there the night that I brought her back– you met me in Yaga's office after the negotiation was finalized."

Gojo looked back at him incredulously, "You honestly thought that I'd let you take on that kind of burden? From the higher-ups no less?"

His head was pounding, his thoughts clouded by an unnerving mix of exhaustion and guilt. "Yaga's never done anything in regard to me without running it by you first, even some of my missions get sent to you for approval, so why the hell would this have been any different?"

"Because you're an adult now." Gojo said simply, the gravity of his sentiment strong enough to break down Megumi's defense. "I didn't ask Yaga anything about your contract because I wanted it to be something that you handled on your own. I just figured you'd be smart enough to let me know if something went wrong."

The walls of his office felt like they were closing in on him as all of the resentment and pain that he'd been grappling with for the last five months suddenly came circling back to the true source of their existence– him. It was never you or Gojo or anyone else that had complicated his life this much, it was his own stubbornness. His refusal to accept help and admit defeat.

"I..." He faltered, his brows furrowing as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. "I'm sorry. You're right, I should've told you. I should've known when it was too much to take on alone..."

Gojo's expression softened slightly, his shoulder gently nudging his.

"Hey," He soothed, knowing better than anyone that getting an apology from Megumi– a sincere one, at that, meant something. "Growing pains are a part of life– this isn't your first and it won't be your last, but it's what makes us human. Sometimes lessons have to be hard to be remembered." 

Megumi was quiet as he took in his words, letting the familiar sense of solace have its moment.   

"Don't beat yourself up over it too much though, alright?" Gojo mused as he leaned back, lazily stretching his hands behind his head. "Your face is rough enough as is and I hear there's a cute girl waiting for you down in Shoko's office."

A small smile crept across Megumi's face as he nodded before getting to his feet.

"Oh and– and Megumi? One last thing."

He paused, his hand resting on the door handle as he looked back at him from over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"We can go over the details later when you're not so," he gestured vaguely towards his tattered appearance, "Half-dead," he said flippantly, "But she's staying just so you know. No strings attached other than her maintaining her cover story while she's here, but aside from that, the contract is null and void– for both of you."

He froze, his pupils doubling in size as he stared back at him in disbelief. "How did you...?"

"10 million yen and a few offhanded threats tend to go a long way in the sorcerer world." He shrugged. "That, and the fact that we'll have her as an assistant once she graduates. Continuing to room with her is optional, but–" His smirk returned with playful ease. "I figured you wouldn't be in a hurry to kick her out just yet."

There was a part of him that was afraid if he blinked for too long, he'd wake up slumped against a rutted pillar with nothing but debris and ash surrounding him again. His throat tightened, trying his best to ground himself as he hesitated at the doorway.

"Thank you, Gojo." He finally managed. "For everything."

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

The next few days were a blur of pain medication, sleep, and holding Megumi's hand as he dozed off in the armchair next to you. He would end up in what looked like the most uncomfortable pretzel-like positions, but he still refused to leave your side no matter how many times you tried to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to go back to the dorm instead.

Aside from the occasional injured first-year that would wander in every so often, the medical ward was strangely peaceful. Your mornings were spent listening to Shoko explain various healing techniques while redressing the bandages on your legs. Checking to make sure that your body was responding to treatment the way it was supposed to while Megumi watched intently, taking mental notes for himself just in case he'd need them later.

Your afternoons were filled with visitors after word got out about how you'd sacrificed yourself to save Nobara against –what you'd later learned from Gojo– was a curse named Hanami. She was still recovering too, but her healing process had been a lot more sped-up than yours with her body being more acclimated to the effects of cursed energy. Yuuji brought you fresh flowers every day– big, well-thought arrangements with all of your favorite colors. "You'll tell her that these are from me, right?" He'd tease Megumi. "Don't want you takin' credit for my hard work."

While you knew that Gojo had managed to revoke the terms of your contract, the weight of it still hadn't fully left you. There were nights that you'd wake up in cold sweats, tears streaming down your face as you'd find yourself frantically reaching out for Megumi's hand. "I'm here," he'd whisper, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't until you'd been released and the two of you were finally back in your room that things actually started to feel somewhat solidified. There wasn't the same looming sense of dread that used to follow you. There wasn't the constant weight of abandonment clawing at your chest.

There was just him and the way his hands felt grazing your jawline as he kissed you. The way that he tried so hard to be so delicate with you despite the pent-up fire behind his stare every time he touched you.

"Megumi," you breathed, pulling him closer as the morning sun began to seep in from the window. "I'm not made of glass." You reminded him, your fingers tangling into his hair.

HIs hands were still lingering on your waist, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at you through heavy lashes. "You'll tell me if it's too much?"

There was something about the care in his eyes, the way he always put you first, even when his own restraint was clearly hanging on by a thread. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you nodded. "Promise."

His grip on you tightened, the palm of his hand warm against the side of your neck before his tongue parted your lips again.

You could feel the shift of him starting to let go, the way his hand roamed from your neck to your lower back with his movements becoming more and more fervent. Breathy little noises filling the space between you while he helped you out of your shorts and tossed them to the side of his bed.

His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes tentatively trailing over you as he lined himself up with your entrance. It was the very last wall he had left, one that he never thought he'd be able to fully tear down until now.

He couldn't stop the low moan that escaped him as he slid into you, watching how your pupils dilated as you looked back at him with trust that he still wasn't sure he deserved. The words were right there, right where they'd always been, steady and terrifyingly honest.

He drew in a breath, letting himself sink into you, noting the way your body held him tighter the further he went. It had always been you. His hand shook slightly, using his thumb to tilt your head up towards his while his hips met yours with the same deep, consuming pace. It would always be you.

His lips parted, his mind slipping as he finally let go completely and buried everything he had in you,

"I love you."

It was soft but impossibly sure as it brushed across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth you didn't even know existed in its wake. There was suddenly no such thing as holding back– not the tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes or the feelings that you'd tried so hard to control for the last six months. He was everywhere, embedded into every single part of you.

It settled over your chest, opening up like a floodgate once it began– "I love you." you breathed, your nails digging into his neck."I love you." you whimpered again as your back arched beneath him. "I love you." he panted, his hands firm against your hips as your walls began to unravel around him. "I love you." you cried, letting yourself fall apart for him entirely.

"I love you, I love you, I love you..."

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

[lynxgriffin]

And she'll finally realize how happy she is without you.

Last part of this real short series! Based on this total crack theory. Susie arrives in Hometown! Things can only improve from here…as long as she doesn't get a sudden reminder of everything she's lost.

Aaand done with this! Just thought this whole deal would be an interesting idea to explore in regards to Susie's backstory! We'll see eventually what actually happens in canon…hopefully!

Start | Previous

[tenderperversion-moved]

yukio mishima, confessions of a mask

[honeytuesday]

maybe i'm just catching up on the handbook of life, but a big lesson this year has been choosing to outgrow. understanding that digging claws into the fabric of your past just tears away at a completed tapestry. it is so, so scary to step away from the familiar. but clinging to people, situations, and phases of life will drown you in the belief that love and opportunity are scarce. that you will only be loved if you remain exactly the way you are. holding absolutely still, hoping no one pauses too long and remembers to stop loving you. but the truth is, you will inevitably crumble and reform a thousand times over and it will not be silent and that is good. you will change irreversibly and beautifully, as all living things do, and you will love and be loved for it. and you will find new comfort in metaphors about being swept up in life's current because you have always been heading towards yourself.

[bunni3bab]

So I really like body horror, and I thought it was a shame that Pressure can't go more in depth about the whole turning an innocent man into a killer fish thing, so i thought this would be funny.

In all seriousness, the first few chapters are light but im going to go into gross detail about how Sebastian's magical girl fish transformation happened and it's not pretty.

This is going to be focused on Sebastian's time in Urbanshade and explore a lot of his character angst 👍

Growing Pains

Chapter One: Entering Jaws

“...I'm here on account of a company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Good, you're not supposed to...”

Sebastian was falsely convicted for a crime he didn't commit. Backed into a corner and faced with a pending execution, he's offered a way out.

This first chapter is real light for the most part but just in case, this chapter has mentions of: One singular corpse, prisoner mistreatment, isolation, very light injury mentions towards the end. The next chapters are only going to get worse so proceed with caution.

Nine people were murdered, all in a similar style. Their names were grouped together, unfamiliar faces smiling in photos they had taken before their ultimate demise.

It was a horrible tragedy, really. The news had surprised him, as the neighborhood Sebastian lived in was relatively safe. He had been born and raised in the area. This sort of thing was unheard of.

He sent his regards to the families, he truly did. 

He just didn't understand why he had to be held accountable for it.

Sebastian didn't know them. He had nothing to do with them. When he was sat down in the interrogation room with their faces staring at him from files they had slapped down on the table, he was left speechless and confused. He tried his best to answer their questions. He had never been involved with the police before. He had never been in legal trouble before. Their accusatory questions and dehumanizing stares nearly made him question if he had killed nine people and somehow forgot about it. But he still stayed as strong as he possibly could be. He insisted over and over, “I didn’t do it.” 

But his explanations fell on deaf ears. He was in the area, he didn't have a solid alibi, and his family didn't have enough money for a good lawyer.

Sebastian would admit it, it looked bad— but it wasn't him.

Time stopped when he received the death penalty. Months’ worth of paperwork and planning all meant to try and get him back home to his normal life were thrown away in an instant. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, the decision had been made, and he was powerless against it. His family, his career, his future— it all meant nothing to them, not when they were convinced he was a murderer. The situation was so ridiculous, so unbelievable, he found himself still in denial some days.

He wasn’t due for his execution for at least another fifteen years, he had been told. It took a long while for these things to get finalized. It tormented him. Rather than just putting him out of his misery, they were hanging the reaper over his head. He spent every night going to bed, in his dark cell, thinking about the fact that this is what his future looked like for the rest of his life- the life they let him have. His best moments were managing to stay calm under the harsh treatment he faced from the guards, his worst were in those late nights where he had nothing to distract himself from this harsh reality. His eyes would be crusted with dry tears. The red puff from crying battled the weighted eye bags in which one wanted to be more painfully obvious. He would be dead before he’d ever get the chance to hit 40, a fact that didn’t sit right with him. He used to think of those years as something so far into the future that it was out of his reach, but now it felt so close. Too close. 

He was never one to think too heavily about what his future looked like. He knew what he wanted, but he was open to anything as long as he was happy. Maybe he’d continue pursuing engineering and get a good career out of it, maybe not. Maybe he’d continue playing the guitar and writing songs he’d never have the courage to share, maybe not. He knew that’s what he wanted currently, but how was he to say if that would be the case 10 or 20 years from now. At least he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that, he thought bitterly. Now he knew for a fact that he was going to be a dead man. 

The sins of a crime he didn’t commit weighed heavily on him every day. Despite not being the one to spill it, the blood stained much more than just his reputation. He wore cuffs every second of the day. In the exercise yard, in the shower, it didn’t matter. Not unless he was in his cell, not that he left it often. He wasn’t allowed out of the claustrophobic thing unless he was showering or exercising.

Or if his mother was visiting him. He tried his best to stay positive for her. She always looked one second from breaking. She flashed him that same wavering smile. He had gotten familiar with it over the years, especially after his dad’s death. Despite his protests, she never stopped masking her troubles behind a positive attitude. Before, he took comfort in knowing he could at least help her out financially to take some of the stress off of her shoulders. He felt so helpless now sitting across from her, unable to do anything with glass separating them. 

She’d give him updates on how his siblings were doing. She’d tell him about how Callum was getting interested in computer science, which was ironic considering he claimed he wanted to get into more “exciting jobs” like acting when he was younger.. She’d happily rave about Mira’s promotion at work. She handled the aquatic life at a nearby zoo. He used to tease her for being an animal nerd, but he never stopped her from sharing her knowledge on strange and obscure fish. 

His mother always made sure to let him know that they were waiting for him. She never lost hope that Sebastian would be let go.

“They’ll realize this is all one huge mistake. Everyone knows you’d never commit such crimes.”

She visited him frequently. His sister did sometimes too, though she could never quite look him in the eyes. His mom always insisted that Mira didn’t think he was guilty, but Sebastian never believed it. How could he when she had that disapproving frown on her face the whole time. 

Callum never visited. Too busy focusing on his schoolwork, he was told. He appreciated his mom’s efforts of shielding his feelings, but sometimes he wished she would just be honest with him.

His days cycled the same. Eat, work out, shower, eat, sleep, eat, see his mom, shower, eat. But one day, there was a change that interrupted his daily admiration of the cold stonewall time. He had a visitor, an unexpected one. He was hoping it was his mom visiting at a strange time, or his brother finally choosing to see him. Imagine his disappointment when he found a man in a clad suit sitting at the table instead.

The man's hair was comically slicked back, and there was not a single crease on his suit to be found. He flashed Sebastian a bright smile as he was cuffed to the table, like he was catching up with an old friend rather than talking to a death row inmate.

“Sebastian Solace, I've heard so much about you.” He adjusted his papers. Sebastian caught sight of a printed-out news article about his arrest. The man winked. “All bad things, unfortunately, but don't you worry. I like to keep an open mind. You seem like a good kid, intelligent too,” he chuckled, “I mean…nine people, in such a short amount of time? That must have taken a lot of planning to pull off. I see a lot of sickos here, but this one certainly takes the cake.” When Sebastian only stared at him, the man put up his hands in defense. “But hey, I get it, mistakes happen.”

Sebastian swallowed in an attempt to combat his dry throat, “I didn't do it.”

He laughed, “I've heard that one before, but that's neither here nor there. Whether you're actually the culprit means nothing to me. All I care about is what’s written on paper, and as long as it reads that you’re guilty, you're looking at the electric chair. Not for a long while, of course, but you will eventually. I bet that’s just eating you up inside, isn’t it?”

Sebastian clenched his fists. 

“I'll take that as a yes. That's unfortunate, you know, you're still so young.” The man leaned forward as he carefully studied Sebastian's face. He couldn't bring himself to look at him. He was trapped in a never-ending loop of shame and anger, neither quite winning.

Shame because Sebastian was at his absolute lowest. Shame because of his helplessness. Shame because of how his name has been smeared beyond recognition. It swallowed him whole. Its gentle waves lulled him into a false sense of security, slowly dissolving any argument against his predicament.

Oh, but anger, it stuck around like a pestilence. Its flames reignited every time shame tried to drip too close. It refused to quiet down.

You're innocent, it reminded. This is unfair, it insisted. You need to do something.

Sebastian let his head hang, his cuffs coming into view. The chilled metal caused his arms to shiver slightly, and goosebumps to peppered his arms. Or maybe it was because of the man's scrutinizing gaze, Sebastian wasn't sure.

When the man found whatever he was looking for, he sat back, “Lucky you, you have another chance.”

Sebastian brought his attention back to the man in front of him, wondering what kind of sick joke he was trying to set up.

“…what?”

“You seem skeptical. There's no tricks here, friend. I'm Jackson Barlowe, and I'm here on account of a company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Good, you're not supposed to,” he winked, “we handle a lot of boring legal and monetary issues, nothing you’d care for. But they’re interested in you.” Barlowe slid a packet across the table. The cover had some sort of strange eye logo taking up the center space. 

Urbanshade: For the better of the Modern World.

“They’re interested…in me?”

“Well don’t let it get to your head there, pal, they just need more volunteers. That’s all this is, really, volunteer work. But, it does have one key perc I think you’ll enjoy. You’ll get out of death row.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. Hope glimmered in his heart for a moment, but it was shortly lived as he reminded himself that there had to be a catch. This was too good to be true. There’s no way a company would be able to keep him alive as long as he did simple volunteer work.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, that’s the whole deal.”

“There’s always a catch.”

Barlowe chuckled and turned his head. He looked like he was mentally debating something, “I never said the volunteer work would be fun. You’re going to be expected to do whatever they say at the drop of a hats’ notice. And you’ll still be a prisoner. Cells, cuffs, limited privileges, the whole package. I’m not exactly handing you a paradise here, but it ain’t death, and that’s more than what you got now.”

“What’s the volunteer work?”

“Ah, minor stuff mostly. You’ll have to answer questions for research, test a few equipment pieces, that sort of thing.”

Sebastian tried to hold back his skepticism, he was in no position to bargain after all, but he was never quite good at holding his tongue. “What happens when they don’t need me anymore? For…volunteer work, I mean. Will I ever be able to go home?”

Barlowe took in a deep breath and stroked his trimmed beard. He thought for a long while before responding, “Anything is possible. Urbanshade is pretty flexible with these things, if you can imagine. You behave well and you’ll see your family again. That is what this is about, yeah? You miss your folks?”

He almost laughed, “Is that even a question?”

“What a family man. Well then, Sebastian, at the risk of losing my job,” Barlowe leaned in close and whispered, “Urbanshade has been known to pardon some lucky souls before. Play your cards right and that could be you. You’ll be happy to know that they work fast too. They might not need you for long. In just a year or two, you could be walking out of there a free man.”

Sebastian internally battled with himself. On one hand, the man’s words were unnervingly vague. Barlowe never guaranteed anything, this whole deal was a big game of luck and chance for Sebastian. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t continue to waste his life here, waiting to succumb to death. He hated going to sleep on his cold and hard bed in his cramped cell. He hated spending most of his day thinking about what he could’ve been doing had he not been caught up in this mess. 

But more than any of that, he hated not only being able to see his family for a limited time through glass. He missed helping his mother cook. He missed annoying Mira while she was trying to study or playing video games with Callum. He missed seeing them happy- genuinely happy. He hated the fake smile his mom put up to make him feel better. He hated the look of shame across Mira donned. And strangely enough, he hated that he hadn’t even gotten to see a disgraced look upon Callum’s face. He didn’t care if it was a glare, bottling up all of the world’s hatred and wrath, he wanted to be given the chance to see him at least.

“You can always decline the offer and bite the bullet now, if you prefer those chances, of course. Maybe death row is more comfy than I’m giving it credit for.”

Right, “offer”, Sebastian thought bitterly. “Offer” implied that there was a choice, like he had any room to say no. It was pretty obvious what he wanted to do— what he had to do. Not only for himself, but for his family. 

The man slid a pen over as Sebastian flipped through the packet. It was full of a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo. The information was decorated in fancy language Sebastian wasn’t familiar with. His grip on the paper tightened, creasing the sides. It wasn't a matter of deciding, but rather finding the will to pick up the pen and sign his name on the dotted line, that made the process so difficult. He felt his pride wilt away with every draw of the line, and he couldn't keep his eyes open when he went to dot the “i”. Hope resided in his chest. He had gone this far, he could keep going.

He’d make it home, and his mother would understand, she always did. From the time that he broke her favorite flowerpot, to the moment he was arrested.

“You're a good boy, Sebastian. The rest of the world may have forgotten that, but don't let yourself, for even a moment, doubt it.”

Barlowe collected the papers and pen, “You made the right choice, Solace.”

He certainly hoped he did. 

Barlowe wasn’t lying when he said Urbanshade worked quickly. The moment Sebastian had finished his meeting, he was transported to the back of a truck. A bag was placed over his head for the whole drive. For privacy reasons, he was told.

The drive was long and difficult. His cuffs would dig into his skin every time the truck took a turn and set him off balance. The bag smelt like it had been sitting in a basement its whole life, and it was incredibly itchy. Some of the loose ends would get tangled in his outgrown hair from time to time. He wasn't alone either, there were armed men in there with him. He knew that because he could hear them adjust their hold on their guns periodically.

He tried his hardest to keep a steady breath, fighting against the dizziness that consumed his system. He couldn’t help but be on edge. The knowledge that several guards were surrounding him, ready to aim if he stepped out of line, had his tied down limbs shaking. He tried to focus on the cold sweat dripping down his forehead to keep from spiraling down into a panic. 

When the truck finally stopped, he was blindly dragged out. Sebastian couldn't make out where he was. The air stunk of fish and salt. The sound of water splashing echoed throughout. By the time he was finally freed from the bag, he was already being shoved inside of what he assumed was a submarine. 

He wasn't the only one there. There were other prisoners, all heavily strapped down. There wasn't a single part of their bodies that wasn't tied down, and bags were placed over their heads. The top half was made of mesh, allowing them to state at Sebastian silently. The bottom half was a white plastic, what purpose it served, he wasn't sure.  Some of them had “high risk prisoner” stamped on their suit in red ink.

“High risk?” Sebastian mumbled to himself.

A guard, dressed from head to toe in sleek black body armor, gripped him by the shoulder.

“I wouldn't stress about it, just try to keep your space and you'll be fine.” He laughed as he shoved Sebastian into an empty seat, and began to fasten the restraints. 

They were needlessly tight, the one wrapping around his stomach left little room for air. Sebastian's breaths were shallow, his abdomen trying its best to fight against the strap. His breaths only became more shaky once the guard went to place a white bag over his head.

“Don't take it personal, kid. We have to do this to all of you regardless of behavior. Protocol and all.” His words went in one ear and out the other as the bag was placed over his head. 

Sebastian could only focus on the pounding sound of his heartbeat as the guards exited the submarine. 

Sebastian was in Urbanshade’s Hadal Site, he learned quickly. Submerged deep into the murky waters, away from civilization and contact. 

The air always felt thick and moist. The place reeked of the strong scent of cleaning chemicals and sanitation, and the rooms were towering. They swallowed you whole in big open spaces. It was a nice change from the tiny rooms he was squished into before, but the vast rooms held so much room for possibility, like anything could be waiting in the corners. It was unnerving.

“You’re next, Solace.”

Sebastian was shoved forward by an armed guard. He stepped in front of the height chart and held up his card detailing his name and assigned ID number. 

“Smile.” The photographer snapped a picture, the blinding flash burning his eyes. “Off you go now, low-rank.”

Sebastian stepped off the black mat and handed in his board. A new uniform was placed into his hands as a replacement. Guards led him down a long hallway. They idly chatted amongst themselves, as though Sebastian weren’t there.

“Did you hear that Jeff got moved over to the N.O.S.T security division?”

“You’re kidding! That’s one hell of a promotion. Those guys always get to retire early. Heard the pay is incredible.”

“It doesn’t sound all that worth it to me. They barely ever come back to get paid in the first place.”

“Eh, yeah but they get to see all of the cool stuff. The fish get boring after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. There’s been reports of something real dangerous and big floating around the drills. The thing eats bullets, some of the survivors say. I wouldn’t be surprised if they start sending in low-ranks to handle it.”

“Hah, hear that, low-rank? You might have to swim with the fishies soon.” The man knocked his shoulder into Sebastian’s. The men laughed. He could only keep walking, wondering to himself if they were trying to scare him or if there was seriously something horrifying in the waters that consumed them.

Eventually, they stopped at a locked door. One of the guards scanned something on their wrist, causing the sturdy machinery to whirr and open up his new cell.

It was much bigger than he expected, at least in comparison to what he had before. It was well lit and cleaned, not a speck of dirt in sight. In the corner was a curtain concealing a toilet. How kind of them to give him privacy.

“There ya go, pal. Get changed ASAP, that new jumpsuit is what prevents you from being shot on sight.”

Sebastian turned to the guard with wide eyes, hoping to find any signs that it was a joke made in poor taste. His only response was a shove into his cell and the door sliding shut. He stood there for a solid minute, desperately trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. He was miles away from home, stuck in a place whose location was kept a secret from him. This wasn’t ideal, but he could make this work. It wasn’t permanent anyway. If he did as they asked, Sebastian had a chance at being let go, and that was more than he had before.

He looked down at the neatly folded uniform in his hands. Stitched onto the chest of the dark blue fabric was “LR-P.”  He squinted as he noticed an inverted pentagram printed onto the suit. That was…strange.

He decided not to read too much into it as he changed.

Sebastian was kept surprisingly busy. Every day he was called in to complete a task or a test, and without any explanation of what it was for, he would be sent back to his cell. It was all strange. One day he’d be requested to donate blood, the next he was taste testing candy canes.

One particular instance easily won as the strangest questionnaire he had to participate in. He was sat down and shown a picture of a skinned and headless corpse. You would have thought it would have made him sick, but it only filled him with desperation instead. He felt the strange need to provide it with furs so she could stay warm. 

He was asked to identify the corpse, and found himself stating, with no hesitation, “That’s my wife.”

“Have you ever been married, Mr. Solace?”

“Never exactly got the chance. Being arrested for murder really kills your chances.”

“And yet this is…?”

“My wife.”

He hadn’t realized how strange the situation was until he was sent back to his cell. From the murmurs he picked up on his way out, everyone recognized the corpse as their wife. 

Sebastian never cared for ghosts or the paranormal. He wasn’t a huge believer in them like his sister was, but it was hard to ignore the glaring red flags present. The inverted pentagrams stamped everywhere, the corpse that makes you think of it as your wife, the strange fish situation the guards brought up when he first got there. And the list didn’t end there.

Guards were posted everywhere, heavy duty guns in hand at all times. At random, sirens or alarms would sound, and swarms of guards would rush out in a single file line. Some came back, a lot of them didn't. If he strained his ears, he could hear faint cries throughout the day.

He was constantly being watched. There were security cameras at every corner. As if that wasn't enough, there were men and women in lab coats who regularly circled through the cells, silently watching. Sometimes they’d take another prisoner with them. What they were looking for, Sebastian wasn't sure, but he still felt unease settle within his stomach everytime their eyes lingered on him. It all made him wonder what Urbanshade was even trying to achieve. 

Despite the constant state of unease, he was doing relatively well. His tasks were simple and to the point.

Well, they were simple in concept. Having to carry around heavy boxes wasn’t fun. Sebastian grunted as he set down a heavy package beside a fellow prisoner. He was sat at some table with a prototype of what looked to be some sort of flashlight. 

A beeping collar settled around the disgruntled man’s neck. He had a cigarette between his lips and the top half of his jumpsuit was left neglected to hang at his hips. He grunted out a quick, “Thanks.”

Sebastian’s eyes drifted down to the printed “Doug - MR-P” tag on his shirt. The man followed the movement.

“You new here?”

Sebastian shrugged, “Got here about a week ago.”

Doug shook his head, “Yeah, I can tell. Word of advice? Play nice and you’ll do fine, boy. Do yourself a favor and work up to medium rank. The work gets grueling but the benefits are worth it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigs. He offered the box to him. Sebastian shook his head.

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke.” He had tried it once back in high school when a friend offered it. He coughed it up immediately and faced the wrath of his sister when he got home and she smelled the nicotine on him. She had promised not to snitch as long as he never picked up another cigarette again.

The man laughed, “Hah, just give it some time. Once you’ve seen what I have, you’ll do anything to ease the edge.”

Sebastian swallowed, seeing an opportunity now that the guards weren’t breathing down his back. “What does this place even do? I’ve done everything from reviewing lollipops to identifying corpses and I can’t get my mind around what all of this is for.”

The man blew out a trail of smoke, “See, that’s your first mistake. You’re askin’ questions. Don’t do that. Less you know, the better. Trust me.”

That did little to reassure him, but he didn’t get a chance to push further. He was rushed off to try different ice cream flavors. 

Weeks flew by with the same routine. Weeks of not speaking to his family weighed heavy on him. He never got a chance to tell his mom about the “offer.” If he had known Urbanshade would whisk him away so quickly, he would've asked to take some time to think about it. It would be some time before he’d be able to see them again, it’s not like they could swim down to see him. He wondered what they were told, if they even knew where he was. He hoped they wouldn’t be upset with him for leaving without warning. 

They’d do fine without him, he reminded himself. They were all strong enough to keep going without him there, they always were. And once Urbanshade was done with him, he’d see them again. He’d finally be able to hug his mom again, to know that she’s really there, and that all of this was behind them. It would take some work, but he’d do whatever necessary to earn back Mira and Callum’s respect. He’d prove to them that he was never the heartless murderer the jury deemed him to be. And they’d be together again, safe, happy, and home.

He just needed to figure out how he could work his way to getting pardoned. 

Sebastian awoke one night to his cell door sliding open. 

“Hey, what prisoner rank are you?”

A pool of light crawled through the doorway, a silhouette of a man being the only thing to shield him from going blind. He sat up slowly, sleep yet to have released him from its clutches quite yet.

“Huh?”

“This is the low-ranking section, yes? Am I lost again?”  A man dressed in a long white lab coat stood before him. The glare in his safety goggles made it difficult to make out his eyes, but his rosy nose and lips stood out. He looked flushed and sweaty. One glance at his tag read that the man was named Dr. Truman, part of the bioparanormal team. 

Bioparanormal? What did that mean?

Sebastian cleared his throat, “Uh…yeah, I’m low-rank...sir.”

The man nodded. “Perfect, perfect, that's perfect!” He adjusted his goggles to scratch at his eye before placing them back down. He awkwardly fidgeted with his hands for a moment, pacing in his spot as if he forgot that Sebastian was there. When he finally looked back up at him, he made a face as though he remembered what he was doing, “Come with me!” 

It was funny how he said it as though it were a suggestion. Like his hands weren't cuffed in front of him, like guards hadn’t rushed him out of his room using the tips of their barrels to push him forward. Rather, it was said like he was a fellow coworker the man was excited to show off his latest findings to. He envied how excited the man was able to be at what felt to be an ungodly time. It was difficult to tell the time when you were plunged underwater, but he could feel it in his heavy eyelids.

They led Sebastian to an area of the blacksite that he hadn't seen before. The rooms were much larger. The doors were huge, made to not only fit crowds of people through, but giant trucks loaded with cargo as well. Workers travelled through the rooms. He heard the familiar faint cries he occasionally picked up on while completing his jobs. They were much louder now, the low growls shaking the floor. It all nearly made his heart stop. Just what were they keeping here?

As they walked, Truman occasionally turned to look back at him. His expression was difficult to read. His face changed rapidly, never satisfied. Eventually he clapped his hands together, “So! It's Solace, right? Am I right?” He looked back at him, an eager smile present on his face.

Sebastian hesitated. His name tag was clipped to his jumpsuit, wasn't it? He decided not to answer as he found nothing nice to say in his tired and grumpy state, and he needed to keep a clean record. Comply to get pardoned, he reminded himself. He settled for a nod.

“That’s a nice name. Never heard that one. You’re pretty lucky, some people out there get the short end of the stick when it comes to last names.”

“...Yeah, sure.” Sebastian blinked away the haze that clouded his vision. Truman was extremely talkative, more so than any of the other workers here. Maybe he could get answers. “Hey uh, out of curiosity, is it really possible to get pardoned down here?”

“Oh, someone’s not enjoying their time down here,” He had the audacity to laugh, “that’s only for the prisoners who sign up for more…special tasks, to put it lightly. But cheer up, I’m sure you’ll get that opportunity some time! What we’re doing today won’t qualify for that, unfortunately for you.”

Great.

Truman perked up, “You look nervous, is this your first time?”

“First time doing…what?”

“Oh, you know! Helping out the bioparanormal division- well, not technically. I explained to the big man so many times that I specialize in paranormal beings, but he still insisted on giving me assignments dealing with non-paranormal entities. So even though you’re helping a bioparanormal specialist, you’re not helping the division, but that’s neither here nor there!”

It took Sebastian a solid minute to digest all of what Truman said. “I'm sorry, entities?”

“Oh, so it is your first time! I better not spoil anything in that case.” 

Truman stayed quiet after that, leaving Sebastian to openly gape on his own. Entities? Is that what Urbanshade was about? Studying monsters?

What had he gotten himself into?

Eventually, Dr. Truman led them inside a huge room. Sebastian was pushed inside, the door closing behind him. It was pitch black, save for the little light coming through the giant window. Empty waters sat on the other side of the glass. 

Truman’s voice came over the intercom, “My apologies, we have to keep everything dark. This entity’s eyes are pretty sensitive!” 

Sorry, he was in a room with one? Sebastian’s breathing became shaky. He was going to die, wasn’t he? 

“Now, Solace, your job is going to be very, very simple,” Truman continued, “Am entity is going to come in front of the glass. I’m going to observe how you react to it, and if you survive, then you get to go back to your cell. Easy, right?”

A beat passed by.

Truman didn’t add anything else.

He was serious?

“Alright, get ready!”

Sebastian heard the sound of a heavy gate being lifted. He couldn’t see anything in the window, not for a long while.

But eventually, a subtle green glow emerged from the deep waters.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian froze in place, goosebumps trailing his skin.

“Mom…?” It sounded like her. Exactly like her. But she couldn’t be down here. No.

“Mijo, what are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be home.” Her voice, her words, her tone, her her her her.

This was wrong. All of his senses were screaming that at him. His eyes burning from dryness, his ears ringing, his skin crawling, it all came together to tell him that this was wrong.

And yet he couldn’t look away. Not when the alluring green light grew closer and closer.

“This is all a misunderstanding, Seb. Everyone knows it. They’ll let you come home now that they know.”

Home, that’s all he wanted right now. He wanted to go home.

“They’ll let you go, I know they will. All you have to do is look into my eyes.”

He had been trying so hard to remain strong for his family, for himself. He was tired of it. He just wanted to go home now. Home. All he had to do was look. Then he would be home.

“Look into my eyes.”

Bright green eyes bored holes into his own. It stung staring at them, but it felt so freeing. So comforting. He was going home.

“Good, good, just keep looking into my eyes.”

Her voice was sweet, sickeningly so. It was…wrong. Wrong his senses reminded him, wrong. This wasn’t right. He felt something wet above his upper lip. He looked down as he gently wiped it. Blood. 

“Look back up at me, Sebastian. You want to go home, don’t you?”

Sebastian’s head hurt now that he was looking away. How he had missed such a splitting headache like this before, he was unsure. He looked back up, and this time, it wasn’t the alluring green eyes that caught his attention first, but rather, the giant shark that it belonged to.

You could’ve stacked twenty men and it still wouldn’t have been enough to reach even half of its length. Its grey skin had rips and tears in it, with bright emerald eyes peeking out of every nook and cranny. Fishing hooks and spears decorated its fins, and layers of dead and shredded skin hung off of the beast like it was a thin robe. 

“Look into my eyes, Sebastian. Don’t you want to see your family again?” The voice was loud and ear splitting. It tried so hard to sound familiar, and if he let himself give in, it would have. But he couldn’t let himself fall under its spell again.

Sebastian turned his back to the beast, trying his best to steady his shaking hands. It was as though his skull was getting ripped open, allowing the contents to spill all over the twisting floor that shook beneath him. The once smooth design of it now swirled into shapes and colors until it dissolved into nothingness. 

“Look at me, Sebastian. You’re letting them down, you know? All you have to do is look into my eyes and you’re refusing?”

Sebastian began slowly walking back towards the door. The room swayed in protest, his head naturally trying to swivel back to face the monster behind him. He fought it off with each trembling step. 

“You had no issues signing your life over to Urbanshade. You had no issues moving miles away and burying yourself hundreds of feet underwater. It was so easy to leave them behind, can’t you do them this one favor to make up for it?”

That wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, he couldn’t listen.

“Look. Into. My. Eyes. You’ll never see them again if you don’t! Look at me!” It chanted it.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Sebastian heard the distant sound of the door opening. He heard footsteps. He felt someone grabbing his arms and forcing him forward.

You’ll never see them again, Sebastian. Never.

[jjmaybankssurfergf]

Growing Pains

Series summary: After a year leaving the tv show "Outer Banks", Rudy Pankow is still trying to leave his mark in the acting industries. Hitting a few bumpy curbs on the way he meets someone trying to escape their poverty life and a traumatic childhood. Soulmates only come once in a Lifetime, could this be it? Warnings: mentions of abuse, drugs, death, depression, running away, small age gap, past trauma, toxic ex, cursing, smut, drinking, living in poverty, bank trying to take a car for late payments, rough childhood, mentions of Outer Banks s4

Ch. 1 Second Chances

Ch. 2 Past is Past

Ch. 3 Brand New Full Throttle

More coming soon! @kraekat29 @nemesyaaa @chimindity @redhead1180 @princessmaybank

@jjxkiaraxpopexcleoxjohnbxsarah

@rafeyscurtainbangs @alliisinwonderland05

@maybanksprincess @pankowkisses @pankowperfection

@rafeslittleangel @rafesthroatbaby @babygorewhore

@torturedlexdepartment @smolbean1998 @loveu-always + any other of my moots that I missed!

[crucifysam]

[coffeecat1983]

Mario Bros: Growing Pains

@vulpixfairy1985 Thank you so much for the story request, my friend, you kept me distracted today and I really loved working on this.

     "C'mon Weege, I wanna play Kid Icarus!"    Fifteen-year-old Mario stamped his foot, the sound muffled by his green sock hitting the soft carpeting. Luigi grumbled from his spot on the floor. He hunched over, gripping the NES controller tightly.      "You always play that one." he muttered. "I wanna finish Kirby!"      "That's not fair! Your game saves where you are, you can start any time!" Mario argued back. "I gotta start all over again with mine!"    From down the hall, Marianna sighed as she heard the rapidly escalating argument. Giovanni shook his head as he entered the dining room. "Puberty hitting hard, huh Mar?"      "I just hope they don't fight too much." she said. "Should I step in?"    Both paused, listening as their sons continued. "Eh let em work it out," Giovanni said. "They're like the twins, they'll get over it."      "I hope you're right."

   Mario clinched his fists. "Luigi it's my turn!" he dove for the controller and Luigi doubled over, stubbornly hiding it as his twin tried prying it by pulling the cord.      "You're gonna break it!" he squeaked, his voice cracking. "HEY! Stop!" he yelped as Mario managed to pull him over on his side and snatch the controller. "Mario!" Luigi scrambled, nearly climbing up Mario's back in an attempt to pin him down as his twin went to change the game cartridge. Falling to the floor he rolled over and folded his arms, face scrunched in anger.      "Play your stupid game." he mumbled. "Not like you're good at it anyway. You always lose."      "At least I can beat the second level!" Mario snapped, trying to hide the tears that were gathering. "You've been stuck in Kirby for months!"    Luigi curled up tighter. "M'm n-not talkin' to you anymore!" he stammered out.      "Me neither, meanie." Mario plopped down, the controller clicking as he began to play. Luigi got up and still keeping his arms around himself, stormed out to the living room and over to the corner where he would hide as a kid. He settled back beside the couch and the bookcase, legs drawn up tightly.    Salvatore, who was seated nearby, merely shook his head.

   A few days later, the family gathered for Sunday dinner. As everyone took their places around the table, the twins and Marie watched in surprise as Luigi gloomily shuffled to the seat next to Marie, taking it while Mario took his usual place beside Giovanni. The confusion grew as throughout the conversation, the bros refused to talk to one another. As the adults relaxed with drinks after the meal, Mario thumped loudly down the hall and slammed the bedroom door while Luigi retreated to the living room again.      "Eh, Ma? What's goin' on?" Tony asked, motioning towards the empty seats. "Those two are actin' bizarre."      "I think I know." Arthur spoke up, rubbing his chin. "First fight?" he said, glancing towards Marianna. She gave a nod.      "And they're not talkin' to each other." she confirmed. "They've had their little tiffs before but nothin' like this."      "Mamma Mia," Tony uttered, rubbing his eyes. "Art?"    The younger twin stood. "Older or younger?" he asked. Tony stood, cracking his back as he did. "Older. Hang on, Ma, we got this."    Luigi was tucked up tightly in his little corner, a family photo album in his lap. He glanced up at Arthur's soft laugh, his uncle taking a seat beside him.      "Good hiding spot." Arthur commented. "Used to hang out in this spot, myself." He leaned over a little, smiling at the photobook. "Your fifth birthday. That was a fun one, goin' to the park and you boys learning to ride your bikes."      "Y-Yeah." Luigi muttered, his shoulders slumping. He jumped slightly when Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.      "What's on yer mind, kid?"    Luigi stared at a photo, the bros laughing as they both raced together on their bikes.      "Uncle Art, do you fight with Uncle Tony?" he suddenly asked. His uncle didn't answer right away, instead gently taking the photo album and flipping back to when he and Tony were teens.      "We've had a few, yeah."      "You ever say somethin' mean?" Arthur had to catch himself, holding back the laugh as he thought about it. "I've been a jackass a few times, yeah." he grinned, nudging Luigi's elbow. "But so has your Uncle Tony."

   The bedroom door creaked and Tony peered in. Mario was sitting on the floor, back against his new bed as his fingers clicked furiously at the game controller. He remained quiet as Tony came in and sat beside him. Both were silent, Tony watching as Mario played. A beep, a game over screen, and Mario tossed the controller aside with a groan.      "Tough game," Tony commented. "Never could get far in it." He looked at the two beds. "Funny not seeing your bunk beds in here anymore."      "Stuff keeps changing." Mario's voice was so low Tony wasn't sure at first he heard him right. "Why's everything feel so weird?"      Tony snickered. "Called 'bein' a teenager', kiddo. Trust me, been there myself."    Mario turned, looking up at him. "I was mean ta Weege." he admitted. "I didn't mean to be! But he wouldn't share and I just wanted to play my game. Now I donno what to do."    Instead of replying, Tony waited and the teen continued.      "I can't sleep right! I miss not havin' Weege below. And I keep havin' crazy dreams!" he squirmed. "Bout girls, 'n stuff." he said this part softly. "I wake up and I feel weird all over..."    Tony's expression softened, the gentle teasing he had died on his tongue. "Ah, I know those dreams, and that feeling, kiddo. You're not crazy, you're a teen. Weird merda happens when you're a teenager."    Mario giggled, recognizing the swear word. He then shifted, turning so he was fully facing his uncle.      "Does it ever stop?"      "It does, it takes time, but it does." He got a knowing look in his eyes. "You're not really mad at your bro, huh?"    Mario shook his head, refusing to look up. "I donno how..."      "...how to 'pologize." Luigi said. A few tears beginning to trickle down, some getting caught in the mustache hairs that were just beginning to grow. "I was so mean!"    Arthur flipped through the photo album, stopping at one photo and gently lifting it from the page, held it out for his nephew to see. It was the bros, both bundled in a hospital crib.      "You know you two were so packed in your Mamma, the doc joked you must've had fist fights in there for room." He tucked the photo back into the book. "Yet you two stuck to each other like glue. Then, and now." He opened the page to their recent birthday party, lifting out the picture where the two had their arms around each other, leaning in to blow out the candles on the cake.      "Fights happen, kid. Especially right now. You two are growin' and it's not easy."

     "Bein' a teen can be a nightmare." Tony said. "But don't think everything's gonna stay bad. Yeah you guys might fight, but hey it happens." He put his arm around Mario. "The best thing is do what ya always do, say you're sorry and try not to do it again."    Both looked up as the bedroom door creaked again. Luigi stood there, tugging nervously at his shirt, with Arthur hanging back behind him.      "Go 'head." Arthur urged him forward.      "Uh, M-Mario, I..."    Mario jumped up grabbing his twin. "I'm sorry, Weege! I don't wanna be mad anymore. Please forgive me!"    Luigi grabbed him, hugging him tightly. "M'm sorry!" his voice was muffled as he pressed against his twin's shoulder. "I didn't mean it!" Luigi let go of him, rubbing his neck. "M-Maybe you c-could help with Kirby? You're good at the boss fights!"    Mario was already starting up the TV and game, holding the controller out. "I bet you could help with Kid Icarus, you're good at finding patterns in the enemies."

     "Think they'll be okay?" Arthur asked as Tony joined him. The older twin smiled.      "They'll be fine. They're nuts, like us!" Arthur slid his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, you're right." he smirked as they both started back to the living room. "Ya know, I haven't kicked your butt at a video game in a while. You up for some fun tonight?"      "Bring it on and prepare to lose, math geek."      "I'm gonna make you eat those words, book nerd." The two broke into laughter as they entered the living room. From the bros bedroom came cheering as the two started their game. In the kitchen, Giovanni shook his head with a low laugh.      "What're we gonna do with our boys, Mar?"    Marianna laughed brightly. "Love em to death, as always. All four of them."

END By "CC"

Thanks again, Vulpix!

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Growing Pains

Lucifer x Reader

Content warning: fluff, trust building, slow burn, building communication skills, self improvement, fast proofread (please excuse the errors)

Summary: Lucifer's attempt to bond with you, a newer resident of the hotel, spectacularly backfires. Unable to avoid Lucifer, with an impending sinister catalyst, necessitate a resolution forcing you to work through your avoidance tendencies.

Author Notes: This one shot is on the longer side. Let me know if you think I should have made it 2 chapters or if it works as it is. I also wanted to apologize for the day delay! Yesterday did not go as I had planned.

Word Count: 6183

Thank you for all the love and support you choose to give!

Charlie and Vaggie were sitting and talking in the hotel lobby not too far off from you. Vaggie’s one arm, the one you could see, casually draped over the back of the couch. Her thumb stretched from its resting position, lightly caressing her partner as they talked. A minute affection Charlie didn’t seem to notice in her exuberant excitement. One you couldn’t help but focus on, completely ignoring the book you were looking over. You forced your attention back to the book momentarily before Charlie started laughing. The sound ripped your gaze from the pages back over to the loving couple. Charlie’s hand now on Vaggie’s arm. 

It made the skin on your arm prickle with goosebumps.

“My, my, my, weren’t you ever taught it’s rude to stare?” The accusation startled you from your fixation and you tilted your head to see Lucifer propped from beside you. One eyebrow skyrocketed nearly to his hairline while the over exaggerated smile on his lips seemed to pull painfully tight on his lips as he attempted to playfully exclaim, “It’s almost like you’re plotting something!”

His quip stung, intentionally or not. You had noticed since arriving his method of interacting with other sinners was usually to tease them about sinner-like things; violence, cannibalism, plotting against other people, their drug use. His favorite against you was that you were plotting a scheme, usually against Charlie. Everyone had been slightly wary of you upon your arrival. Charlie had sworn up and down that it would change. That since you always seemed so aloof and standoffish it was just unnerving for some people in the hotel. Including her dad who was trying, in his own way, to connect with all the sinners when he was around. He had a couple thousand years of prejudice to work through but, he was trying!

She had taken to coaching you at every interaction you had with her. Even Vaggie had jumped on board with her encouragement. If one of them said hello and asked how your day was, a simple ‘fine’ wouldn’t suffice. It didn’t encourage bonding! No, you had to elaborate. Tell them what you did that day. Did you learn anything new? What books are you reading? Share with them things about yourself! Ask how their day was. Reference something they previously told you. Have an actual conversation.

 As well intended as they were, it was exhausting. Having gone from almost solitary living for the last century or two -between working in a job where you were almost completely unbothered while living with a single roommate whom you could go days without speaking to- this was a complete 180 and utterly tiring. You didn’t uproot your life to make friends. You had come here to work on redeeming yourself. Get into heaven if it was possible. Which Charlie repeatedly told you included being friendlier, kind, thoughtful, and most importantly selfless. Even if you didn’t necessarily care about everything other people had to say, it was important to still allow them space to be themselves without judgment and make sure they felt heard. That is what would help get you into heaven!

You had noticed as time wore on, begrudgingly so, the tactics she had you practicing had been working. Several of the newer residents had loosened up around you and started conversing with you on a somewhat regular basis. During some of the group exercises where Charlie would tell people to pair up, they had come up to you and suggested you work together. It was just a skill you had let wither that you needed to redevelop. A plant you needed to relocate from shade to sun. 

Whatever analogy you needed to tell yourself you did to prevent yourself from giving up. You came here for redemption after all which meant something needed to change and maybe that was part of it. You wouldn’t have been cast to hell if you had gotten things right.

So as Lucifer loitered beside you, you tried to keep in mind you needed to be better and that this was his way of connecting like Charlie had said. Regardless of how it stung hearing it time and time again. This was just practice. More draining practice. “I’m not plotting anything sir.” you said, closing the book in your hands before setting it down to make sure he knew he had your attention. Now what though? 

You wracked your mind for what to say next. Charlie said to be honest with people. How do you explain to him why exactly you were staring? That you had started craving physical touch again since coming here. That after having gone years without  brushing against anything other than the books you worked with, that having Charlie clasp your hands when she was excited or Angel throwing an completely unwarranted arm over your shoulders when he wanted to use you as a prop for his dramatics, those simple actions had suddenly rekindled your human, well sinner, desire for contact. How pathetic would that make you look? How weak? Then to have been caught fixated on them, desperate to live vicariously momentarily.

“I was just…” you drawled. The idea of telling the truth set your face ablaze in embarrassment. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the truth. You looked over at the couple settling on your answer. “...admiring their relationship.” 

He openly laughed, playing along with his original story, “Mmmmhm. If you say so~~.”

A combination of frustration and disappointment washed over you. Completely incinerating any trace of the embarrassment you have felt over the real reason why you had been staring. Hearing him happily hum as he sauntered over to Charlie not believing an ounce of what you said regardless of your lack of ill will towards the princess. If he was only joking, why was it the same barb over and over? Why were you the one he continuously chose to make that specific joke with? It really didn’t feel like a joke anymore. 

You looked down at your book trying and failing to speedily process your emotions. You heaved yourself up turning to leave. Not wanting to exist in other people’s presence anymore. Too emotionally taxed.

Wrapped up in your own feelings and thoughts you missed Lucifer glancing back at you. You missed the jarred skip of his step as he caught sight of the haggard expression during your momentary unmasking. You missed the fact he stopped walking all together as you slipped from the room.

You quickly found shelter in the sanctity of your room. Recharging the rest of the evening cocooned in the fuzziest blankets you had, that you made sure always smelled of orange and cinnamon, buried in the book you had just gotten. As the evening slipped into night though, you slipped from your room and made your way down the hall needing a small break from the confines of your quarters before heading to sleep. Because despite your exhaustion, you enjoyed a little fresh air before bed.

Living on the second to top floor had its downsides; like being closer to Alastor’s studio or hiking up the seemingly endless number of stairs. You personally felt it had more perks though. One of the best upsides being a small balcony with a cafe styled table and chairs. Later in the evening when a good number of the residents had either retired to their room for the evening or were still out partying, there was a blissful window of time where there was little risk of running into some else. So you would make your way to the balcony and sit looking out over the city.

Disconnected but present.

You pulled one of the chairs next to the railing so the back of the seat was at a 90 degree angle to the railing. Plopping yourself down, you perched yourself in the seat with both feet up. One arm rested on the railing so as you leaned forward, your belly pressing into your legs, your chin and cheek resting on your arm rather than the cool metal. A few adjustments here and there quickly remedied any qualms your body had with the positioning and finally you were nestled in. The final signal of settling a small decompressing huff.

The usual sights and sounds greeted you. Your eyes scanning for any changes or immediate drama to observe from your box seat above the masses. Angel Dust and Husk walking away from the hotel caught your eye. Angel talking with his whole body as Husk just shook his head in amusement. Angel suddenly buckled over laughing before reaching out to place a hand on Husk’s shoulder to steady himself.

The skin on your shoulder prickled and you involuntarily shiver. You look away from them too little too late. The ache for contact instantaneously tearing at you from the inside. The arm wrapped around yourself tightened in a futile attempt to ease the ache, already knowing from experience it wouldn’t work. You buried your face in your arms contemplating just going back to your room to lose yourself in the book that had occupied your warring mind earlier.

A click sounded from behind you making your head shoot up to see a bashful appearing Lucifer holding the door open. He gave a lopsided grin, gingerly pointing to the second seat, “Do you… mind if I join you?” 

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him. Immediately wary of his presence. The lingering silence dragged on, making him shuffle anxiously before you gave permission with a curt nod. You directed your attention back out towards the city despite being hyper aware of him.

A quivering laugh slipped from his lips as he stepped out a little too close for your liking, admittedly the size of the balcony was intended to be intimate, and closed the door behind him as he sat down in the seat across from you. He immediately stretched out, slipping his legs through the railings, putting one elbow on the table between the two of you. “Not a bad view from up here. If you ignore most of the gun shots and ‘fuck you’s’ it can be pretty enjoyable.” He shot a sideways glance over to feel out your reaction at his attempted small talk.

“Yeah it is.”

 The city sounds echoed between the two of you. Distant conversations filling the void that the two beings right there were unable, or unwilling, to fill. He nervously laughed, his fingers drumming on the table. You looked over to him this time. Seeing his eyes flittering from object to object unable to choose 1 thing to look at.

Quickly, his drumming fingers started to grate against your already worn nerves and tired mind. Unable to bare whatever this was any further, you attempted to excuse yourself as you started to stand. “It’s late. I’m heading to-”

“No! Wait! Wait!” he sat up from his faux relaxed pose holding out both hands. “Just… hold on.” he breathed out yet another quivering laugh, the panic shining brightly in his eyes as you bore into him with yours. 

He took a deep breath. He looked away, mentally giving himself a small pep talk before he looked back. “I wanted to talk. About earlier.”

“I’m tired….” you admit as you stood there looking down at him. His nervous grin and hopeful eyes making your resolve to run buckle. “What about earlier?” you ask, easing back into your seat placing both hands of your clasped on the table.

“Thank you.” he said before beginning to explain. “When you were leaving the lobby,” he specified, making a circle motion with one of his hands, “you looked, well, upset.”

“I looked upset.” you repeated.

He slowly nodded. His next words said slowly and carefully, “I was… wondering if it was something I did? Or said?” he paused before further clarifying, “I wanted you to tell me why.”

You scoffed. Perhaps it was the unroofing of a metaphorical wound his joke had made. Perhaps because you were tired. It could have also been a combination or something completely unrelated. Regardless, you were unable to hold back the venomous sarcasm that slipped from you, “Well I can’t imagine why.” Lucifer’s eyes widened, the reaction only egging you on. “It’s like constantly being judged for something you didn’t and wouldn’t do isn’t upsetting.”

Lucifer stared blankly, “What?” 

“Oh you’re plotting against Charlie I see?” your voice lowered in a pathetic attempt to mimic the king. “How many times did you think you’d get away with making the same joke before I realized you clearly meant it? That you’re genuinely suspicious I’m out to hurt Charlie?”

“I didn’t-”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not out to get her? I like Charlie! She’s kind! She’s thoughtful! Yeah she’s irritatingly persistent but, she needs to be.”

You had started to dig your nails into your own clasped hands in your flurry of emotions unable to reign them in. You took a breath, realizing you needed to step away from this conversation. You stood up just as Lucifer found his voice. “I never meant for it to be an accusation. It was meant to be a joke.” You felt your emotions spike again, your jaw clenching, as he continued, “I saw you staring at them an-”

“Because I’m TOUCH STARVED!” the words were out of your mouth before you could consider what you were saying, “I saw them giving one another affection and was just so envious! I just stared! I didn’t mean to, I-” You glanced up to him to  find a look of confusion, twisting with what you interpreted as disgust, on Lucifer’s face that made your train of thought grind to a halt to reevaluate why his expression was so. Your mind finally processing your admission. “I just…” A hand slowly lifted to lightly cover your mouth, your eyes widening.

“What now?” he asked, the confusion deepening in the expression of his face. A raised eyebrow. A lopsided frown. The slight tilt of his head.

Your face started burning, chest tightening. It instantly became hard to breathe. Panic. You were panicking at the vulnerability you had just bared. Anger melded with embarrassment in the midst of your anxiety. You bristled, launching into an unneeded defense. “You know what, I don’t need to fucking explain myself to you.” You turned, throwing the door to the balcony open, practically running back to your room. Anything he might have said behind you drowned out by your panicked thoughts.

A sleepless night followed. Unable to calm your mind, it ran in circles in your head; justification of your outburst, realizing you completely blew it all out of proportion, getting angry that you had allowed such a vulnerability to air so freely, fear of what Lucifer might do with the information or who he might tell, embarrassment at being so weak, anger at the conversation having happened, before feeling defensive again to repeating the looping train of thought. As the day’s light started to breach the veil of night, only then did you finally slip into unconsciousness utterly spent. 

The next few days were spent dodging Lucifer which was relatively easy since you were simultaneously also attempting to fix your wrecked sleep schedule.  When you were going to sessions though, you did your best to preemptively vacate any areas when you heard Lucifer approaching or avoided areas you knew he would be in. The change in behavior had mostly been easy to truthfully explain to Charlie as well when you boiled down the scenario into the simplest of terms. You had gotten upset about something and had ended up not sleeping well. While she of course wanted to know the whole situation to help you navigate it in any way she could, she was respectful, admittedly a little pouty, when you said it was something you weren’t ready to talk about. Not having to lie to her made you feel a little better since you missed quite a few of her group exercises. 

While many of the residents didn’t care or hadn’t found the change to be too out of place, when paired with your explanation, it didn’t slip the careful eye of Alastor. The first day it had seemed to catch his attention but, by the second day he had taken a keen interest in your antics. When you would try to slip out before Lucifer would come into a room, he would stop you to talk about your participation in the session. Once he told you Charlie wanted to speak with you and then took you into a room where Lucifer and Charlie were talking, only for him to have misheard Charlie’s request. While he framed his actions as innocent and well intended, you had never seen the grin on Alastor’s face as wide as it was. It was unnerving. 

By the fourth day, you weren’t just paranoid about running into Lucifer. Alastor’s newest hobby had seemed to become tormenting you and his questions and conversations had become probing. Feeling out cracks in your story. At one point he had even told you he was all ears for any issues you might have with other residents or guests. 

Having lived through his rise to power, you knew there was no good to come from exposing yourself to such a machiavellian individual. You wouldn’t put it past him to worm a deal out of anyone, even as lowly you. An expendable pawn was still a piece to play and he was one to look at the bigger picture. 

At that point, you garnered enough gumption to face Lucifer. You couldn’t risk getting caught under Alastor’s thumb and the idea of him knowing you were touch starved and how that could be held against you igniting a spike of anxiety. You knew Lucifer and Alastor were not on good terms but, the idea of word getting to Alastor was distressing. You loathed the idea of facing Lucifer but you needed to ensure your blunder remained under wraps. This was for self preservation at this point.

Towards the end of the day, you sequestered yourself to your room to prepare; plan key points you wanted to discuss, how you wanted to phrase things, etc. You knew you couldn't lose your head again, considering how the prior incend had led to the current circumstances. After an hour or so though, you felt ready. 

You made your way to the top floor, taking extra precautions to avoid running into Alastor potentially heading to his studio. Once certain Alastor was not loitering about or following you, you made your way down the hallway towards Lucifer's room. You focused on your breathing as you trekked the hall. Attempting to quell your anxiety and slow your racing heart, to no avail. By the time you reached his door, your pulse was thrumming in your ears and you were certain he would be able to hear it too.

You stood before his door paralyzed. Both hands clenched at your side. Unable to stop the tremble that plagued them. Your eyes locked onto the perfect white presetine door as if trying to bore holes through it. Your breathing uneven. All the words you had practiced having evaporated from your head as you made your way there.

This was a mistake.

You pivot. Hurriedly, retreating.

Halfway back towards the stairs your eyes register Alastor's studio door and the terror that drove you to the point resurface. You halted. Your hands flew to your head in a silent temper tantrum as your mind raced to determine what would be the lesser evil. A sense of urgency gnawing at you considering you were standing dead center in the hallway of a barren floor.

What was worse; not knowing if Lucifer might reveal what you had said, accidentally or intentionally, with everyone including Alastor potentially finding out or turning around and confronting Lucifer?

The first concern was all just a possibility though wasn't it? There was no guarantee that it would happen. Talking to Lucifer wouldn't guarantee that he wouldn't spill your secret either. You let out a soft, maniacal sounding laugh as you took a step forward only to stop again. A possibility that would weigh on you for weeks to months leading to you lurking around the hotel, as you had been, haunting the place. Harrowed by the uncertainty at every turn.

"FFFUuuuucccckkk..." you groaned softly. Your palms sliding down your forehead pressing into your eyes. You needed to confront Lucifer. The realization making your stomach churn. You couldn't continue dodging him and you couldn't outrun the fear. You turned resting your back against the wall, your hands on your knees as you bent over mentally recollecting yourself. You went through what you had gone over before in your room. Reminding yourself of the key points. 

You sighed and brought your palms to your eyes again. Slowly breathed out. Pulling your hands from your eyes, you launched off the wall propelling you back towards Lucifer's room. The momentum only lasting a few steps before freezing again. 

"Heeeey, as entertaining as this pantomiming is, and it's a great performance, I would appreciate getting access to my room sometime tonight."

Your face blanched as a shiver slipped down your spine. You slowly turned to see Lucifer standing behind you. Both hands perched on the apple of his cane and a practiced smile on his lips. One eyebrow raised, almost lost beneath the rim of his hat, as he watched you tentatively turn towards him.

Instantly you straightened yourself and stepped aside. "Good evening." your voice was dry and hoarse. 

"Yup. Good evening." he chirped back, unmoving. Your eyes were locked onto a spot on the floor, your mind utterly blank. As the seconds drew on, his smile tensed as he nervously waited for you to do...something? His fingers drummed on his cane. "Well... if the performance is over I'll be heading to my room. Have a good night!" He looked away awkwardly and started on his way.

A quick glance at his back got the gears in your brain working. What were you doing? He was right there. You were screwing it up. "Wait...wait! Lucifer…" It was soft, but loud enough for him to hear. He slowed and turned looking back. 

"I..." Your eyes meeting made you want to run. The idea of having this conversation replusing you. You pushed off the wall and walked over towards him, fighting the urge to flee. "Are you free? I-...I would like to apologize and talk. About the other day?" Your face felt flushed.

Lucifer shuffled and gently smiled which was unnerving. It was a smile you had only ever seen reserved for Charlie and Vaggie. "Don't you think it's rather late? It would be a little unproductive if we had a repeat of last time."

The comment struck a nerve considering it was earlier in the day than when he had approached you. It must have shown on your face as his smile dropped paired with your response. "That's fine. We can talk tomorrow."

"Unless, you're not tired?" he asked, putting his nervous smile back on and laughing anxiously, "We could have a cup of tea this time. Chamomile perhaps?"

You hesitated but, then nodded. "That would be nice."

He nodded, as he started towards his room onto the spin around. "Ah! You're comfortable talking in my room right? I wouldn't want to make an assumption! We could certainly talk on the balcony again if you prefer!" 

"Uh, somewhere private is preferred so your room is fine." You respond bluntly, his nervous energy deflating. He nodded once more, his grip on his cane as tight as a vice. 

The two of you made your way to his room; him leading with you trailing after. His room was surprisingly clean though you couldn't help but notice a small work area over to the left of the door with two piles of perhaps 50 or so rubber ducks. He had noticed your gaze and eagerly redirected you over towards the windows where he had a little cushioned bench seat perched below. As you settled into the seat, Lucifer got two tea cups ready with a snap of his fingers.

He carried them over to you with practiced care and gingerly handed one off to you before he sat down as well. You took the cup, admiring the beautiful and intricate abstract design on it, before lightly blowing on it and taking a sip. 

"Sooooo..." he drawled, having quickly taken a sip from his cup as well, "before you start, there is something I wanted to bring up if that's alright." Your eyes flick to his, his expression a mask utilizing his usual smile. You nod, making sure he saw before he proceeded,"I need you to explain to me what you meant by 'touch staved'."

You gawked at him. You hadn’t heard what you thought you just heard. “What?”

Lucifer blinked before looking a little frantic and blurting out, “I know what it means! Of course I know what it means. I’m the king of hell. I’m not so wildly out of touch that I don’t!” he laughed looking out the window before taking a sip of his tea, “I’ve also heard it can mean different things to different people. So I want to know what it means. To you! I want to know what it means to you.”

He finally looked back to you taking another sip of his tea, already halfway through his small porcelain cup. Meanwhile, you felt like you were short circuiting sitting across from him. Not only had you spent the last few days fretting and dodging the angel, worrying that he would tell people what you said, but now he was asking you to spell it out for him. Was he….messing with you? You studied him before he gave you a toothy grin coyly purred out, “So?”

It didn’t seem like he was messing with you. Something like this was more Angel Dust’s style of teasing. You mimic Lucifer by taking a sip of your tea for a slight delay. You carefully set the teacup down on the windowsill next to you and place your hands in your lap. “I need you to promise me you’ll never tell anyone.”

“And why would I do that?” He asked. He was messing with you now though you were in no mood for it.

You narrowed your eyes at him and stated as matter of factly as you could despite wanting to spit venom defensively, “I’m not untouchable like you. We’re in HELL. Anything and everything can be used against you by the wrong people. I can’t end up having someone use anything I say here against me.” 

His facade softened and his smile dropped into a frown. He brought the teacup up to his lips and muttered something into the chamomile. “No one is  untouchable…”

You heard him say something but, hadn't been able to make it out so you remained quiet.

“I promise to never tell another soul.” he finally sighed.

“On Charlie’s life?” you asked, knowing he could still share what was said as there was no magic binding him. You needed to know just how serious he was though and Charlie was usually a good indicator. His eyes flashed red and they narrowed at you. You held firm, keeping eye contact and straightening your spine.

“On my life. No reason to bring Charlie into this.” he leaned back, his eyes fading back to their normal golden hue.

You hesitated to accept but relented with a nod. Knowing you had to accept the compromise he offered but, you did feel satisfied that he wouldn’t share what was said. You started thinking about where to begin. As you contemplated, you felt your face heat in embarrassment. He watched, patiently biding his time as he lightly tapped the rim of his teacup with a claw topping it off with more tea.

“For me…” you looked him, locking eyes. The embarrassment clawing through you. The intensity making you panic. Your eyes darted away. Finding a spot on the floor to stare at again so you could think with even a fraction more clarity. “For me it means I… I …miss…touch.”

You glanced up to him, to see the sight raise of an eyebrow. Your mind started churning with worst case scenarios and suddenly your face burned hotter. You looked away again.

“Not sexual!” The words spit out, not wanting any uncomfortable undertones to the conversation. “It’s just… simple touch. Like hugging. Lightly having someone put their hand on my shoulder. Even just bumping into people. Any sort of skin contact makes me want more and afterwards that’s all I want. It takes days for that to calm down and since being here… that’s usually around the time something else happens. It’s a never ending cycle.”

He listened, his face remaining neutral as you spoke and he remained silent for a beat after you finished. You rubbed your arm. Between talking about the topic and your nerves, there was a compulsion to do something with your hands. He broke the silence, “The other day when we had our…falling out, you had been watching Charlie and Vaggie because you saw them touching one another? That is why you mentioned being envious?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you took a breath in an attempt to calm yourself.

He smiled. His fingers rubbing the edge of his teacup as he gazed into it. He knew those feelings all too well. “That��makes sense.” You open your eyes to look at him, noticing the look on his face. He noticed your movement and looked up to you, giving a lopsided smile.

Lilith had been absent for 7 years.

Your eyes widened at the possibility and dared to pose the question, “You too?”

Lucifer stiffened a moment, took a breath and nodded. “Yes. Even I have those days.”

He took a sip of his tea and looked out the window. You picked yours back up and mimicked his action.

“I’m sorry…” you said after a few minutes of what you felt was relatively comfortable silence. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you the other day. It wasn’t fair. I was tired and already feeling…exposed? Hmm…sensitive is probably a better word…”

“Regardless, I knew I was tired. I should have asked to shelve the conversation once I realized it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle right then and there. I’m also sorry for not actually hearing you out once you started since I didn’t ask to stop. I’d like to try discussing it again if you’re willing.”

You spoke while looking out the window. Seeing him shift his attention to you from your peripherals you keep your eyes trained to elsewhere. After you finished, you turned slightly to look at him from the corner of your eye.

The conversation that followed supplied far better results than the last. He clarified how all of his barbs had been an attempt to be playful since he didn’t know you well but, understood how hearing it over and over had manifested as a passive aggressive accusation on your end. You apologized for having taken it that way and not properly addressed the issue before it started to fester as anger. The compromising being he wouldl stop trying to interact with you in that way with the caveat being if he slipped up or tried something new that you didn’t appreciate, you would address it before resentment could build.

At the end, the both of you  sat on the bench sipping the last of your tea looking out at the city. At some point, Lucifer had opened one of the windows. A light caress of warm wind slipped in scattering goosebumps up your arms despite it not being cold and you brought a hand up to rub them, hoping they rescinded quickly.

Lucifer’s eyes slid to the motion. “So how long has it been since you had, I guess, consistent contact with someone?” 

You blinked, thinking about it. “A couple decades.”

“Decades?” he gasped out. He realized just how loud he had been and he coughed with a smile to cover up his reaction. “I mean. Decades. That’s… awhile.”

“Yeah, well…” uncertain on if he was genuinely surprised at the length of time or found it underwhelming and was being sarcastic, you weren’t entirely sure what to make of his reaction. “Most sinners don’t bother with libraries. The hellborn who do, don’t want to interact with a sinner and avoided me, opting for one of the other hellborns working. So I got left alone most of the time.”

You shrugged your shoulders and turned your attention back out the window. Thinking about it now, it hadn’t bothered you then. You suppose you might have just been ignoring that downside though. It had always been easy to check yourself out emotionally and just get through what needed to be done. Not contemplating what you wanted or what could be. Only focused on what was.

“Has…” you start and then stop, wondering if you should ask. You glance over to him seeing he hadn’t redirected his attention to you. “How long has it been for you?”

“Consistently?” he asked as he pondered the question he had posed to you. “A decade? Maybe a little longer. Lilith and I…” his eyes roamed down to his ring. “We had more downs than ups well before she left but I still got some affection in between when we had a good stretch.

A sad tone had seeped into his voice. He gently rubbed the ring with his middle finger, a sense of melancholy filling the room. You watched. Never having had an extended relationship with someone before, you couldn't pretend to imagine the feelings that lingered. You took a breath and then scooted over on the bench seat pulling him from his thoughts. You extended an open hand to him. He stared. He hesitated before slowly reaching out, his decision wavering for a split second before he placed his hand in yours. 

You gently took hold of his hand and looked back out the window. He was far warmer than you had expected him to be. His skin soft. You sighed softly feeling far less unsettled by the sensation than you had thought, regardless of how intimate the action could be seen. It was mindless for you as your thumb began to lightly caress the back of his hand. Lucifer fidgeted next to you, though he didn’t retract his hand.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there. The sounds of the city echoing off the walls of his room with hell’s consistent warm breeze enveloping the two of you in wave after wave. Each of you basking in the warmth of the other, no matter how little it was. It wasn’t until you noticed Lucifer starting to nod off that you smiled and squeezed his hand.

His eyes fluttered open to find you looking at him with a bemused smile. The softest you had looked at him to date. “You’re tired.” 

“I’m not.” he mumbled, a well timed yawn slipping from his lips. You raised a brow with his response being a ‘tsk’ noise.

You slowly, reluctantly, pull your hand from his before pushing yourself to a stand. A stretch had a few of your joints popping. “Would be an awful idea to fall asleep like that.” 

He stood next to you with a noncommittal hum. As you reached for your cup and saucer, a snap of his fingers dispensed of both his and yours. You nod at him before you look over towards the door and then back to him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. That kind of magic is thoughtless to me.” he said, misinterpreting your meaning.

“I meant for talking things over and spending your evening with me.” 

He burbled out a laugh. “Oh well don’t mention that either. Literally. Don’t mention this to anyone. I have a reputation to uphold. King of hell and all.” he grinned at you with his characteristic saccharine smile.

“An exchange of secrets then?” You asked, entertaining a little bit of his playfulness. 

“Ah, still worried about me spilling the beans?” he asked, walking you to the door. “An exchange then. I won’t share yours if you don’t share mine.”

“Deal.” The response was quick and sharp. He opened the door and you stepped through the threshold, pausing and turning around. “Thank you again. I… enjoyed this. Most of this anyway.”

“My pleasure.” his hand did several circle motions as he performed a mock half bow. 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “Goodnight Lucifer.” you say beginning to head off before you add, “Let me know if you would like to do something like this again. A tea time or something. I’ll make sure to keep it drama free.”

He grinned leaning against his door frame. “I’d enjoy that.”

[heavenlee773]

Some Fairly OddParents; A New Wish art I made!

This show is so FUNNN!!

Anyway, I'm watching FOPANW after the whole birthday shebang, right? And I'm waiting for some Hazel and Dev interaction, but.. THERE BARELY IS ANY 😨

Basically the only time they interact is my favoriteeeee episode, "Hazel Wells and the Multiverse of Jenkins" (Because of Dev’s ‘confession’😝) AND THEN THE NEXT TIME THEY INTERACT IS IN THE FINALE (Which I haven't finished watching yet, so no spoilers) ☹️☹️

Howeverrrrrr… Now that I found out there are fanfics for the show.. I WONT RUN OUT OF CONTENT!!

FOPANW fandom, KEEP ON CREATING MASTERPIECES!! Your work is all valued. Especially Dev and Hazel comics😋😋

Welp that’s all for now! Hope you enjoy my art! Peaceee😘

-🤍

[belzebubsofficial]

Being a teenager is hard.

This was originally published as an eight panel version in the newspaper, but I couldn’t help adding the bonus panel for the online version. 😅 Thanks so much to everyone who’s already grabbed their belzeplushies from Makeship, your support means the world to us! This is also a kind reminder that the plushies are available for seven more days, no more, so please check out makeship.com/shop/creator/belzebubs, if you're still interested in getting one. Thank you! 🤘

[remlionheart]

Growing Pains Masterlist ₊˚⊹

‧° ᡣ𐭩 . hiiii, welcome to the fic that’s had me in an absolute chokehold for the last four months. sit back, relax, ((maybe grab some tissues??)) and get comfy because there's a lot to dive into! each part is roughly 10k words, the story as a whole totaling out to about 35k. biblically-cannon-megumi x fem!reader. slow burn. hurt / comfort. aged up characters. forced proximity. (light) enemies to lovers. eventual smut. this is what jjk could've been if fushiguro was the main character and gege would’ve been hugged as a child. ‧° ᡣ𐭩 .

❀ ⁠one ❀ two ❀ three

[lynxgriffin]

One day, your mom's gonna get sick of you, you little freak.

Part three of what will be a real short four-part series. Based on this total crack theory! Susie's finally past the hard part of this, and then of course, the other shoe drops.

Start | Previous | Next

[russell-crowe]

rhod gilbert's growing pains S01E01

[clearprincessbasement]

Growing up

Age, is truly a beautiful thing

[oldshowbiz]

A real San Francisco Classic, located in the Mission district.