#scared of the dark whump

[otter-chaos-violence]

Here some whump. its been drifting in my google docs for a while, but here

its part of a larger series but won't be on tumblr

---

I lay on my back, reading the book Doctor Harland had just given me. I liked it thus far.

He kneeled next to me, petting my stomach while he hooked me up to some kind of machine. I dropped the book, remembering the page number, and I found myself unable to move.

“It’ll be over in a minute,” he whispered. I didn’t respond as my brain went foggy and I closed my eyes.

He bashed me in the side of the face, and my eyes flew open. 

I stared at him, and he said, “Begin test number G-1-7-8-8,”

My muscles tensed and I went numb as something inserted itself in both sides of my neck and my muscles spasmed and I thrashed abou-

—

I came to with my muscles stiff.

“Test failed,” Doctor Harland remarked. “We need to deal with the epilepsy,”

He fastened an oxygen mask over my face and put an IV in my skin.

“We’ll feed you tonight, ‘kay? Just sleep off th-,”

Darkness.

—

I opened my eyes in my bed, and Doctor Harland entered a few minutes later.

“Sit up,” he ordered. I obeyed, and he handed me my book again.

“I’ll get you a treat for sitting quietly and letting us test our new device on you,”

I didn’t respond, immersed in the book’s world. It was about a girl who discovered she was the daughter of King Oberon from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Doctor Harland said he would get me the rest of the series after giving me a modern translation of the play so I could better understand it.

He held out something that smelled sweet and I took it, then ate it, my tail wagging happily.

He pet my head and I purred.

“One-two-seven-three, any strange feelings?” He asked.

“No,” I chirped. 

“Good. Good. Nausea? Tiredness? Breathing normally?”

He checked my heart rate and breathing for any abnormalities.

“Normal. Okay. Darling little test subject, we’re going to try and treat the illness that made this test fail. We’re going to cure it,”

“What illness?” I asked.

“You- have a reaction to certain things, and it causes you to stop existing for a minute, meaning we can’t do certain tests. We try to treat it and you don’t respond to medications, so we need to cut it out,”

I felt something cold on my wrist and whimpered, “No, not again, don’t look at my brain- please!”

“What? No. The procedure requires you to be awake or you’ll die, we’ve already tested it, and it’s painful. We’d give you painkillers, but that’s unsafe until after,”

I shuddered and hissed when he brought his hand to my tail. I tried to bite him as he tied it under the bed and shackled my other three wrists and my ankles to the bed.

“Please! NO!”

“It’ll all be over soon,”

He called for Doctor Fletcher and Doctor Amatris. Doctor Amatris held my chest down and Doctor Fletcher attached electrodes to my skull, and I felt like I exploded a few minutes later. I shrieked and thrashed around, when I heard something snap.

“Oh shit!” Doctor Amatris shouted.

I felt the pain dull a bit, and Doctor Harland whispered, “Its over, you’re going to have morphine tablets now,”

“Okay,” I mumbled before changing form to my more human self and laying back, my forehead caked with sweat. They undid the shackles, and Doctor Amatris took my hand in hers and the trio set my leg in a splint. 

I cried out and whimpered, “Hurts,” when Doctor Fletcher shoved a capsule into my mouth and held my lips shut until I swallowed, then gave me water.

I rolled to my side and shivered, still in deep pain. I started crying and Doctor Harland sat me up and started hand feeding me between each sob. It was cold, barely seasoned chicken, like always.

When I was done, I dove under the bed, where it was calmest, no one trying to talk to me, even though it was dark.

“One-two-seven-three, don’t be like that,” Doctor Fletcher said. “Do you want to undo all the progress in training out that habit?”

I hissed at him and swatted at his ankles, then curled into a ball and continued crying into my fur.

Doctor Amatris kneeled in front of me and held out her hand. I didn’t take it. She very gently petted the fluff on my neck, and I continued sobbing, though it made me feel a bit better.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “The pain’s over now,”

She very slowly pulled me out, as though acclimating a fish from one tank to another. At one point I had a couple fish and a snail, and in a rage, Doctor Harland smashed the tank, killing all three of them. I cried for weeks after that, as at that point, I’d been taking care of them for four years.

“There, how do you feel?”

“Hurts,” I croaked, my voice raw. It felt like the color red to speak.

She lifted me and set me back on the bed, tucked me in like a mother would her child, and kissed me on where my forehead would be, and when she left, Doctor Harland inserted an IV into my skin. She wasn’t allowed to see it, for some reason, I wasn’t even sure if she knew.

I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

—

What was supposed to be a dreamless sleep became a nightmare, one where I was playing with a child, and we were about the same height. It was all flashing lights and pain and fear when someone grabbed me, and-

I woke up, screaming for someone whose name I didn’t remember. The IV had broken.

I took off my oxygen mask and sobbed in the dark. Normally Doctor Harland stayed to make sure I felt safe at night, it was too dark for me. I wished I had control of my lights, but past lights-out, they couldn’t be turned on unless Doctor Harland or someone else swiped a keycard.

I heard rapid footsteps, and a woman in a dark blue uniform with a thick black stick and a big spiky club opened the door, then said into a strange black box, “False alarm. One of them woke up, over,”

A garbled voice came from the box, “How?”

“Its IV looks broken,”

“Which one?”

She stepped back and looked at the sign that said my room number with a beam of light that came from a black stick. 

I ran over and took the lightstick after a bit of back and forth, then clicked the button on and off as she said, “It just took my flashlight,”

I called, “Room 5-6-6 B!” and went back to playing with the ‘flashlight’, then grabbed my book and started reading with the concentrated beam of light.

The woman repeated the room number I gave her and said, “I’m gonna need back-up to get it back into bed, its strong,”

I got under my bed and continued reading, until someone else in a dark blue uniform grabbed me and bashed me with a spike on their club. I dropped the ‘flashlight’ and-

-

I came to with my upper wrists shackled to my bed’s headboard and my entire body numb.

“Okay, so, two hundred million watts can cause seizures. Duly noted,” the one who’d hit me with the spike muttered.

“Seizure? Watt?” I parroted, trying to get feeling back in my tongue. “Why’d you do that?”

“Holy shit it talks,” the woman said. 

“Yes I talk, why wouldn’t I talk? Also, I’m not an it, I’m- I’m a girl,”

“Someone get one of the night shift doctors,” the woman ordered. Another person left the room.

“It’s dark!” I complained.

The woman groaned and said, “Deal with it, how old are you, seven, eight?”

“Thirteen, fourteen in four months and two days,”

“How are you that old? Why haven’t you committed suicide yet?” the man asked.

“Suicide?” I’d parroted. I knew what it met at a base level, but in books they always said it in association with a stupid battle plan. 

“You know, killing yo-”

“I know what it means, I just thought it only went with wars?”

“What?”

“In books,” I chirped. I motioned to one that said it, then said the page number.

“Oh-kaaay, you can read,”

“Isn’t that normal? Well except illiteracy rates in fantasy places, but isn’t it normal now?”

The man who’d left returned with Doctor Amatris.

“One-two-seven-three, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“I had a nightmare,” I replied.

“Come here,”

“I can’t,”

She took a key from one of the security guards and unlocked my manacles, then lifted me into her arms, though it was much more awkward than when I was little, considering I was about as big as her now.

I laid my chin on her shoulder, and she carried me away, off to another room, this one with more light.

“We oughta get you a nightlight,”

“Nightlight?” I parroted. “What’s that?”

“Its a little light that plugs into a wall and makes the room brighter,”

She unhooked a little square that glowed blue until it exited the wall, “Normally they come in fun shapes, but until I go shopping tomorrow, we can use this one. I’ll get a bunch of them and let you pick them out, okay?”

“Okay,” I chirped.

She carried me back to my room and lay me on my bed, and I grabbed her arm and whimpered, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone,”

“I have to go back to work,”

“I’m scared,” I whimpered. 

She turned back around and fastened my oxygen mask on my mouth and nose.

“You’ll be fine. And if you wake up again, I’ll come back and keep you company ‘til you fall asleep again. Now close your eyes, goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,”

“What’s a bed bug?”

“You don’t want to know,”

She shuddered and tucked me in, then kneeled next to me and rubbed my forehead to calm me. But sleep would be a long time coming. I didn’t fall asleep until all the lights turned back on.

[kybercrystals94]

Hello, happy 333 subscribers!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

I have a suggestion, would you do a cadet batch fic! Whatever you like, I just love cadet batch 😅

Thank you so much, friend! 🥰 I love Cadet Batch too, so this was such a fun prompt to fill! I hope you enjoy your 333 word story ☺️

Shadows

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 333

Their new barrack is quieter than the lab. Darker too. Strange and unfamiliar shadows lurk ominously, stretched and disfigured. Hunter’s imagination gives them monstrous faces, fangs and claws. They are the creatures out of their flash training courses about predators throughout the galaxy. Creatures that stalk, watching their prey’s vulnerabilities, then lashing out, tearing through flesh and bone. 

Hunter swallows, reminding himself another time that while those creatures are real somewhere, they are not in this room. But another flash of lightning makes the shadows lurch, and Hunter yanks his blanket over his head. He shouldn’t be so afraid. He is nearly four standard years, far too old to be afraid of silly things like shadows. But then the thunder growls, its guttural voice making the room shudder. And something latches onto Hunter’s arm.

He is too afraid to make a noise, too afraid to move.

But then a loud, trembling voice says, “I’m scared. Can I sleep in your bunk with ya? Please, Hunter?” 

Hunter takes a deep breath and peeks out from his sanctuary. Wrecker is there, fingers still curled around Hunter’s arm like his life might depend on it. 

“Okay,” Hunter says. He hopes that he does not sound as relieved as he feels.

Wrecker wastes no time clambering into Hunter’s bunk, pressing himself as close to Hunter as he can. Wrecker is already taller than all of them, even if he was the second to last decanted. Nonetheless, he is still Hunter’s little brother, so Hunter threads his arms around him, and hugs him tight.

“I wanna go back to our old room,” Wrecker tells him. 

“I know. But it’ll be better this way. You’ll see.”

Wrecker nods. “Okay.” 

Hunter wonders if Crosshair will tease them when their morning cycle comes, or if Tech will say their fears were illogical. 

But when Hunter wakes again, Crosshair and Tech are in his bunk too, sleeping soundly. Hunter smiles, sleep coming to reclaim him. 

Maybe it’s alright to be braver together.

END

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[whumblr]

Desperate

Tw: prepared for suicide

-

The door to their hiding place breached and Whumpee sprang up from a light sleep, scrambling through the darkened rooms of the abandoned house hoping to find somewhere to remain out of sight. Eyes darted about in a panic and they snatched the first available thing that resembled a weapon. A pair of scissors.

They slunk down in a far, dark corner of the room, scissors in hand. If they were spotted they could just-- they would have to--!

Fight? No. Weakened by days on the run, by hunger, by their injuries, they knew they didn't stand a chance.

They took a deep breath and opened the scissors, resting the blade against the side of their throat. They weren't going back. They weren't! They knew exactly what was waiting for them. And it was way worse than this.

Heavy footsteps echoed up through the stairwell, getting closer to the room.

Whumpee's gaze was determined, but their eyes were empty. As if they'd already taken that first step over the threshold and life merely clung to their body.

The door creaked open and beams of light entered the room, followed by two men, cautiously stepping around, whispering.

Whumpee slunk back into their corner, praying the flashlight would brush past them, that they would be one with darkness. They didn't make a sound, their breathing oddly calm, their eyes following the men around.

And one of them spotted them. They looked at each other for a second. And then he noticed the scissors against their throat.

"No, no, no, wait! Don’t! Don't!" the man shouted, waving his hands. He fell to his knees and held out a hand, as if they were a wild animal to be kept at bay. "Don't. Please," he said more calmly this time. "We're here to help."

A bit of life returned to their eyes. Hope mixed with a fair bit of suspicion, mingling in a blend of despair. They stared at the man, their hand trembling but tightening around the blade of the scissors. Blood trickled down over the palm of their hand but they barely felt it.

"Please," the man said again. His eyes widened, gaze following the drops of blood. He quickly glanced up again, looking Whumpee in the eyes, and shuffled a little closer, inch by inch, hand held out. "We're not here to hurt you."

Whumpee mewled, torn. The dull blade bit their skin. It hurt. It already hurt so bad. Fear held their hand back, not daring to press the blade deeper. Desperate hope filled their chest. Maybe... maybe they wouldn't have to do this?

"Please, your team is looking for you," the man said, nudging forward.

And Whumpee broke. Tears streamed down their face, dripping from their chin. Hope won. They shuffled over on their knees, dropped the scissors, and fell into the man’s arms. Hands wrapped around his neck, clawed in his shirt, and they sobbed against his shoulder.

"It’s okay," he shushed, brushing a hand over the back of their head. "It’s okay."

He waited patiently until the fingers clamped in his shirt relaxed, until the sobbing died down. Gently untangling himself from Whumpee's grip, he held them by the shoulders, nodded at them in question and held out a hand.

A trembling hand slid into his palm, accepting the offer, and he slowly pulled them up to their feet.

He smiled at them.

Then his hand was on their wrist and as they stood straight, he spun them around, forced their wrist halfway up their back. A metal click followed.

"Sucker," he chuckled.

The bright feeling of hope in their chest popped. It sank like lead into their stomach, transforming to an intense fear and Whumpee completely froze up.

The man caught them as their knees gave out. "Someone is willing to part with a lot of money to get you back. Alive."

-

General whump tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpifi @auroragehenna

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 25: Broken

Night terrors, burning body temperature, delirious hallucinations, and glassy faded vision…

Helpless and afraid, he calls out for his caretaker…but he’s not there…

He’s all alone now…with no one to help…

Completely broken.

[tacomedli]

Tainted Hero - Chapter 1

Sooooo I'm gonna try to start writing this story again, it was started in 2021, posted to ao3 in 2023, aaaaannnnd I never got past the first chapter. But here's to hoping! Anyway this chapter is already on ao3 obviously but I figured I might as well post it here too as something to get me started again.

Sneak peek:

Warriors barely glanced at them as this was happening, but in the split second that he was distracted he heard another cry--this time coming from none other than Legend. The captain watched in horror as vines of a black something crawled up the vet’s body, coming from--coming from his shadow.

“LEDGE!” Wars ran forward, not really having a plan but knowing he had to reach their veteran. The other heroes were shouting behind him, and he heard the thud of boots running in his direction, but he ignored it.

“I’m fine,” Legend bit out, then grabbed one of his legs and yanked. “I just can’t move.”

Warriors wrapped his arms around Legend’s torso and pulled. No luck.

The black grew steadily, now climbing up his waist. This was not good. 

Full chapter under the cut!

The monsters were infected, of course. It had been a while since Warriors had seen any that hadn’t been. In fact, the last time had probably been back before he’d met the other Link’s. What had caused all this strengthening black blood, anyways? Probably Dark Link, as he’d appeared in battle a few times to watch them from afar.

The heroes had grouped off into pairs, watching each other’s backs, with Wolfie helping out where he could. Twilight was nowhere to be seen, as he’d been off fetching more firewood when the ambush had happened. Hopefully he hadn’t been caught by monsters himself.

Warrior’s train of thought was interrupted by a particularly heavy slash from the lizalfos he was currently fighting against, and he almost staggered under the weight.

Keeping his balance was difficult on the uneven terrain, reminding him that they still had no idea whose time they were in--if anyone’s at all. Wars gave one final stab through the flesh of the lizalfos, piercing it through the heart. With an agonized squeal and a puff of purple smoke, the enemy was gone forever. The hero took a deep breath and turned around, looking for anyone who needed help.

His eyes widened when he saw the Shadow himself, the despicable Dark Link, sitting lazily in the branches of a nearby tree, his expression somewhere between amused and bored. 

“Time!” Warriors shouted, throwing a look over his shoulder at their unofficial leader. “The Shadow is here!”

Eight pairs of ears (though one covered in fur) perked up at that. If only these monsters would give them a break so they could face the real threat!

Time grunted in response, unable to move away from the two stalfos that were currently circling him. Wolfie bounded up to him, snarling and making to bite the ankles of one of them. Time spared the wolf a glance, his grip on the Biggoron Sword tightening. “Wolfie, I got this! Go help Warriors!”

Wolfie gave a sharp bark in return, then turned around to scan the battlefield for royal blue and midnight black. 

It wasn’t hard to spot. War’s blade flashed silver in the sunlight; scarf billowing out behind him. Dark Link’s grin was eerily wide as he slipped down from the tree limb, not bothering to equip any sort of weapon.

Wolfie’s eyes narrowed as he sped toward them. If the Shadow was unconcerned with the danger surrounding him, then he must have something up his sleeve yet. Wolfie wished briefly that he was human right now, so he could shout some sort of warning to be cautious in Warriors’ direction. 

At that moment, Warriors risked a look behind his shoulder. He’d heard Time’s yell, so it didn’t surprise him when he saw Wolfie coming closer. What did surprise him was the blur of red and green that matched an arrow’s speed, and the fierce battle cry as the Tempered Sword was raised high.

Legend.

Dark Link didn’t move until the last possible second, whipping out a blade that was black as coal to counter golden orange as Legend slammed into him. Warriors didn’t even know where the black sword had come from--but knowing Dark Link, it was probably summoned by dark magic or some other evil spell thingie.

Said Dark Link was unharmed from the attack, but even so, the force with which Legend hit the Shadow’s blade sent them both skidding forward a few feet--or backwards, in the Shadow’s case.

The latter still grinned as he pushed against the interlocking blades with a shove, forcing Legend to jump back. By this time Warriors had reclaimed his wits, and after taking a deep breath, charged the Shadow head on.

Dark Link was light on his feet, however, if the next minute proved anything. He barely even used any sort of magic as he alternated between defense and attack with his opponents, Wolfie included.

Neither side was gaining, though the heroes seemed to be the only ones growing tired. They’d been battling a camp of monsters up until now, after all, while Dark Link had only laughed to himself as he watched from the safety of an oak.

Upward swing, jump back. Spin attack, shield. Dodge, jump back. Swing again--

Warriors could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his temple, and was all too aware of a surprisingly painful pebble in the bottom of his right boot. How much longer was it going to take before someone else came to help? He’d like to think the three of them could take the Shadow on themselves, but he’d learned long ago that underestimating the enemy was no small mistake.

Wolfie jumped to bite Dark Link’s arm, but as he’d done countless times before, the Dark side-stepped him while simultaneously clashing swords with Warriors. That eerie grin was finally gone, but there was a glint in his eyes that Wars didn’t like one bit.

Legend threw himself forward yet again, hoping to get in an attack while the Dark was occupied. However, Dark Link vanished into thin air just before Legend could reach him, causing Wars to stumble from the sudden lack of pressure.

“Argh!” Legend whirled around. “Where are you, you--”

Warrior’s eyes widened. “Leg, look out!” he yelled as the Shadow reformed behind the veteran. 

Legend knew exactly what Warriors’ warning meant, and that if Dark Link was truly behind him, there wouldn’t be any time to turn around before he was quite literally stabbed in the back. So instead, he opted for a spin attack.

Which probably would’ve worked--if Dark Link wasn’t insistent on showing off his teleportation magic. Or in this case, his ability to merge with the hero’s shadow. Legend stepped back quickly as soon as he realized what had happened, but of course, his shadow followed.

Wolfie snarled, but heard an indignant yelp as Wind was disarmed by a stalfos a few feet away from them. He sprinted to the boy’s rescue, clamping his teeth down hard on the culprit’s neck as Wind hurried to retrieve his blade.

Warriors barely glanced at them as this was happening, but in the split second that he was distracted he heard another cry--this time coming from none other than Legend. The captain watched in horror as vines of a black something crawled up the vet’s body, coming from-- coming from his shadow.

“LEDGE!” Wars ran forward, not really having a plan but knowing he had to reach their veteran. The other heroes were shouting behind him, and he heard the thud of boots running in his direction, but he ignored it.

“I’m fine,” Legend bit out, then grabbed one of his legs and yanked. “I just can’t move.”

Warriors wrapped his arms around Legend’s torso and pulled. No luck.

The black grew steadily, now climbing up his waist. This was not good. 

Suddenly, Sky was there. “I have an idea,” he said, looking to Wars.

“Well, let’s hear it,” the captain replied, voice clipped. “Doesn’t look like we have much time here.”

Sky nodded, then held up the Master Sword. Sacred light climbed the blade, preparing it for a Skyward Strike.

“Oh, none of that, please,” came the disembodied voice of Dark Link. “If you’re going to be so rude, I think I’d best take my leave.”

Legend inhaled sharply as the black vines grew higher with increased speed, beginning to cover him—

“NO!” Without a second thought, Warriors lunged to grab ahold of his friend, unsure of what this strange magic would do and not really wanting to find out.

His fingers barely grazed Legend’s shoulder when there was a sudden flash of light, and he was no longer in the middle of a battlefield. His stomach grew nauseous and he was light-headed, and before he knew it he was keeling over and everything hurt and something felt wrong and—

Warriors’ eyes peeled open, and he blinked a few times. He immediately noticed two things: one, they were in a very dark and ominous prison cell, and two, Legend, who was slumped on the ground next to him, wasn’t moving.

Great. Just great. This was wonderful.

[rosetyler42]

Had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while. I loved the idea of these 3 meeting, giving Audrey another opportunity to meet someone like her. Eclipsa in particular strikes me as the kind of person who'd see this girl covered in ink amd immediately go into concerned grandma mode, trying to use her dark knowledge to help the young girl out...especially since she'd BEEN there when she was young herself. Audrey, however, takes time to open up to Clips. Not because she doesn't trust HER specifically, but...it's a little hard to trust ANYONE taking your hands when the last times someone did that meant harm or death. And Moon...I kind of figured seeing Audrey would be hardest on her, considering her experience with the "Darkest spell" and nearly losing Star in the corrupted magic realm (not to mention her daughter's pseudo corruption a while back.) Seeing a young glowing-eyed woman absolutely COVERED in this black ooze, scared out of her mind... Poor woman needs a moment.

I do feel like Audrey would like Eclipsa though. She's pretty nice, fun (if a bit eccentric) and reminds her a little bit of Cousins Alice + Allison, and her pals Heidi and Betty.

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @hotelt-resurrection @serial-serializednovelreader @deathfangirl9 @wingingfromthezing @inkiedraws @inkhyaena @inkspottie @inkwelldevil @thedopedemon @thedobermutt @thedemonsurfer @howling-nightmare @spicywhumper @heartsong1994 @geekgirles

[defire]

Chapter 29: Fun Times

Content: Dissociation, slavery, suicidal, caught/threats, slapping, knife cut

Next morning, Nife was forced to go back to work, despite her awful physical condition. Every step was pain as Nife limped in. She leaned into the sink and supported her weight with her elbows, picking up another plate and focusing on the scalding water.

It was better than the pain inside that reminded her of yesterday's hour of shame and agony.

Every movement sent a fresh streak of humiliation down her spine. The sense of self she'd had inside had been stripped down. It hurt to think. It hurt to imagine fighting anymore. There was the cuff, the whip, the cane, the humiliation, the chores, there was nothing left of her in her life anymore.

She was starting to slowly realize that at some point, there was only one way left to fight. The thing you're never supposed to consider.

Nife had snuck some of the pastries from the table for Iridiss, and she made herself focus on the smell as her friend slipped little bites of sweets into her mouth, careful that the servants didn't see her. Nife had planned on splitting the pastry with Iridiss, but realized when she looked at it that she wasn't hungry at all. It was slightly comforting to see Iridiss enjoying it, though. It was better than throwing it away, which is what they were supposed to do–pastries were too good for slaves, apparently. They said they didn't want the slaves getting any ideas.

Right, because slave brains only run on sweets.

The kitchen was steamy and damp as a small crowd of servants and slaves cleaned up after an uneventful breakfast. The environment reminded Nife of her nanny's stories about the tropical feeling Gapp used to have, crowded with trees and rained on generously, until the rot had begun. At some point the city was going to crumble completely, but of course the population insisted on being there when it did.

Nife had been unusually quiet, since her voice was still gravelly when she talked, and it hurt to use her throat. She hated hearing it because it reminded her of how much she'd screamed, and why.

"Sorry about yesterday," Iridiss said, rinsing off the food next to her. "I tried to keep you outta there. Cause I know y'used to hang with them."

"And nearly earned yourself a beating." Nife played along. Iridiss was making it sound like she didn’t know about everything they did to Nife before she found her broken and alone last night.

Iridiss laughed. She knew Nife well enough at this point to know she was pretty much always joking. Nife no longer had to smile to get people to laugh, which was good, because she couldn't force the corners of her mouth up any more, let alone take the dead, wet look out of her eyes. She'd passed a mirror in the hallway on the way back to work that morning, and her eyes had looked like two pits of darkness. Truly, the eyes were the windows of the soul.

"Instead, you got that lil lordling in trouble." Bud said with blissful stupidity.

"Alright, that's the last straw," Nife said. "I'm killing myself."

Bud and Iridiss laughed, and a natural smirk came to her mouth unbidden as she heard chuckles from the other slaves in the area. Her stomach ground against her.

It was starting to just get hilarious, the way nobody believed her when she was telling the truth.

A genuine, silly little chuckle shook through her body, and when she looked up at Iridiss with that smile, the other girl's shoulders relaxed.

"Oh, Life, seein ya smile." She shook her head.

Nife's shoulders lightened too, like a big load was taken off them. She began to feel a slow, but overwhelming wave of relief filling her.

"Maybe it's time to be selfish." She said out loud.

"Yeah!" Iridiss jabbed her playfully with an elbow, piling another dish into Nife's sink, which was emptying faster as her forehead relaxed and all the pain seemed to disappear from her body, which was gradually filling with both relief and adrenaline.

"If ya don't take care of yaself, nobody'll do it for ya." She said. "I'm so happy–started to really love you, ya know."

"Thanks." Nife said. She elbowed Iridiss back, who laughed again.

The laughter of the others poured joy into her heart as she felt that the end of her pain was getting closer, one way or another. A spark of light like a star shone at the end of the darkness in her mind.

At the same time, she felt a sinking in her stomach. She didn’t want to give up on what she'd had with the Souls. But it was slipping away.

A couple weeks of drudgery passed like a dreadful blur as things began to smooth into a routine for Nife. If she tried to think about how much time had passed, the despair would turn into panic. That was two more weeks of her bond with her friends dying.

It was Thursday. Nife wore herself down to exhaustion through that day, forced to do her normal allotment of work despite her injured state. Her rib had stopped hurting when she breathed, but her knee still forced her to walk with a limp, and it seemed to be stuck in a permanent state of healing and reinjury from the work she was forced to do.

Iridiss went to their quarters a little sooner than the rest of them–she was always getting on Enimee's bad side, so Nife offered to finish up in the kitchen so that she could get some extra rest. 

"Wantcha hang out after?" Iridiss said.

Nife had learned that "wantcha" was a mixture of the words "why don't you" and she loved it. She agreed to spend some time with Iridiss, knowing the girl would want someone to sit beside her on her bed, lean against, and show letters from her brother. She hurried to finish cleaning.

As Nife was on her way, she heard a word that made her hesitate and listen. The word was "evidence".

She paused in the hall just past the sitting room, slowing down and softening her steps as she did, so that they didn't hear her suddenly stop. Her pausing wouldn't be noticed, especially not by the two Banes in the living room–Striker and Creack.

"She'll give her to me if I have that evidence." Striker said. "Think about it. Me on top, you with perfect freedom to pursue every line of research you want. Wouldn't you prefer me to her?"

"Yes." Creack said.

Nife knew that Lady Wry would hurt Creack if he didn't show up to her social functions, and Creack hated socializing when he could be researching in his chambers.

"So where are they?" Striker urged. 

He wasn't audible at this point, but Nife was reading his mouth through heat, as she did so often now. She'd begun to be so good at it, she didn't always even need to hear bits of the conversation, as long as she was close enough to see them clearly. The key was to follow the tongue in their mouth, which was always much warmer than the teeth.

"But... she'll know it was me."

Striker leaned toward Creack, who flinched back, protecting his personal space.

"I'll protect you." He said. 

Creack rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, turning his head away, as he often did when he was nervous.

"Besides..." Striker said. "I can hurt you a lot worse than she ever could."

"I know." Creack said quickly, leaning back further into his seat away from Striker. "I know. It's–" He swallowed. "–I left it in his room. Second drawer. I didn't want anyone to know I'd ever found it. Everything is there exactly as it always was."

A servant came down the hall and Nife lowered her head, keeping her eyes down as the servant passed her, shoving her out of the way unnecessarily as she passed.

"Damn middle management." Nife muttered.

The minute she was out of earshot, Nife broke into a run for Keerenn's quarters. As long as Striker hadn't heard her stop, and as long as he didn't outright run to catch her, she should be able to find the evidence, hide it somewhere else, and have something she could use against Lady Wry to get her freedom.

No need to kill myself if I can get free, Nife thought.

Creack and Striker had rooms in this hall, and after passing those rooms and a large guest bedroom, Nife reached the dead man's room. She reached for the doorknob, then flinched as she realized Striker was striding up to her, impossibly fast on those long legs, looking as if it was the easiest thing in the world to walk as fast as she could jog.

[I'm not sure if I shared this drawing yet, but this is my rendition of Nife, younger, I'm not really good at consistency in my art but you get the idea]

"What are you doing, Nife?" He said. "Aren't you going to run from me?"

Nife froze. She lowered her eyes and retreated from the door, biting her lips in consternation.

"As if I could run." She said, wishing she could curse at him. "Where would I run, your lordship? The lavatory? The window?"

He just smiled and kept coming closer, those silent steps squishing in the plush hall rug.

"Well, don't go anywhere," He said. "I want you for something. You going to do as you're told this time?"

"I would never disobey your magnificence." Nife bowed slightly to conceal the deep eye-roll. "What could your lordship possibly want from me today? I am profoundly at your service."

His smile deepened slightly.

Fuck.

He'd nearly reached her. 

She found herself unconsciously retreating.

"Trying to get another step ahead of me, aren't you?" He said, grabbing her hand across the knuckles.

"Not possible, your lordship." She nodded at his long legs.

He chuckled.

"Sometimes I like you, Nife." He said.

"I'm so flattered." She said dully. "But wonderful as your company is, I have duties to attend to..."

Striker didn't let her leave, gripping tighter onto her hand until it hurt. The touch gave her a feeling of spiders down her stomach.

"By the way, what did they do to you after that dinner when you threatened Glen?" He said, pulling a key out of his pocket as he spoke. He was clumsy with his left hand. "You acted like you'd broken every bone in your body." He chuckled.

Nife shrugged.

"They respectfully asked me not to do it again, lordship," She said. "What do you think?"

Striker tilted his head back and let out a short laugh, then released her hand and trailed his fingers down her back, which was still bumpy with swelling. She hissed in breath at the touch and flinched away.

"Don't go anywhere." Striker said, unlocking the door.

He took her by the wrist and pulled her in after him, then closed the door. The first thing she noticed was the smell of rotting flesh. It nearly took her off her feet, and her eyes watered with disgust and nausea.

She looked around, eyes widening as she saw the state of the place.

When they said she'd preserved it exactly as it had been, they meant exactly. A massive brown bloodstain had colored the whole side of the rug brown, and splatters of it were all over the room and on the blanket, the wall, some on the desk. Also on the desk was a paper, clean and old, with slightly fading ink and an unusually sloppy signature on it. 

The smell of death was coming from the bed, which was messed up like someone had slept in it over and over without ever fixing it or washing the sheets.

Her eyes wandered over to the window, as they often did, and she noticed that the lock was broken and the window sill was scuffed like it had been climbed through many times. While she was making judgments on the late Keerenn Wry's habits, Striker was opening the drawer and pulling out a paper.

"It's funny," He said, eyes roving over the paper. He smiled victoriously and slid it inside his coat, then turned to her again. "Every time I'm in this room, I notice how clean that piece of paper is. Even though the desk is splattered with blood. And see the creases? It was folded into someone's pocket before being set here."

"Oh wow, the rumors are true!" Nife said.

Striker glanced at her to see if she was actually that excited, and she burst into resentful laughter at his expense.

"Everybody knows." She said.

He turned on her, moving much too close into her space–for a Bane. Time among the slaves had gotten her much more accustomed to this. She met the man’s gaze bitterly.

"What the hell do you think you know?" Striker said.

She shrugged. Then, realizing that wasn't going to be enough for him, she added,

"Even you admitted it... She killed him."

"But there's proof." He said. "Do you not understand how valuable this is to me?"

It was even more valuable to her, and the fact that he had it meant that she needed to make her move as soon as possible. But he was holding the evidence. She'd have to steal it.

"You're part of this now," He added.

"And whose fault is that?"

Striker tilted his head at her, nodding, stepped back to put the paper on the desk, and then turned back to her.

"I'm going to slap you now."

Nife couldn't suppress a small wince. Of course he was. His fingers twitched, half-raised. 

"I'm going to slap you, and then I'm going to explain why you're so important to this plan, and you're going to listen to me." He said, grabbing her by the earrings and yanking her face-to-face with him. She was close enough to see how well he took care of his skin, which was clean and well-shaven.

Then he let go and slapped her.

She kept her eyes down, clutching at her stinging cheek. It wasn't the first time she'd been slapped today for "mouthing off". 

"Getting off yet?" She murmured.

He bristled.

"Sorry." She cringed back. "I didn't mean to say it. Look, I–I'm still here. I'm not running. I'm in your plan. I’m not trying to provoke you."

He had raised a fist, but at that, he lowered it, holding his breath for a moment as if to control himself. He shook his head hard at her.

"No one can provoke me." He released his breath. "I forget you're only fifteen. You don't know anything." He sighed. “I’m not a villain, Nife; I’m trying to restore our city.”

"Well, that makes me feel better about being slapped." Nife said.

He let out a short laugh.

"I may be vicious, but at least I appreciate your humor, unlike my sister." He said. "Now, if she is convicted of murder, the estate would go to me. You'd rather have me as your master. Wouldn't you?" He added.

"...I think I'd rather die, actually."

She jumped back as Striker drew a dagger and stepped toward her, blocking the door as she was opening it, by pressing his knee against it. He came up close enough that their thighs touched and Nife felt her lip curl in resentment. He pressed the point of the dagger to the base of her throat, where it dipped in under the adam's apple.

She found a tiny chuckle of anxiety release from her as she leaned back instinctively away from the blade, chest and throat tightening so much that her voice cracked. Her shoulders and head pressed against the door. He placed a hand on her neck, thumb gently pressed against the underside of her jaw, tilting it back.

"You'd rather die?" He said.

"You only just figured out you can't control me?" She smirked bitterly. "You're slow."

He didn't answer. The ornate dagger stung as he twisted the tip, drawing blood.

"Ouch–hell." She said through gritted teeth. "Go all the way or not at all, asshole."

"I don't trust your word, so, I'll have to do this." He said. Then he spoke, and his words echoed in her mind like an undefeatable compulsion. "Don't talk about this until I tell you to."

Then he let her go. She found herself panting for breath as he wiped the dagger on the bottom of his shirt.

"Well this has been fun," She said.

"Go." He said.

She left.

She didn't talk about it, and found herself unable to. An unearthly compulsion to shut her mouth came over her when she tried. There was some twisted magic about that.

First chapter: next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version, but you can find the canon Dance of Death on Amazon and ao3 (which I'm updating shabbily as fast as I can). Also if you want, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review or comment while you're there.

[ladzwriting]

HURT/COMFORT and WHUMP BOOK FAIR presented by @thewhumpyprintingpress

[popcorn-plots]

Febuwhump day 24: "I'm doing this because I care about you."

Title: obsessed

Words: 261

Summary: Wong is not the person he once was.

I scare myself sometimes. This is not for the feint of heart. You have been warned.

~~~

Wong closed the door behind him, eyes gleaming with sparks of adrenaline and left over magic.

Stephen watched him scan the room, eyes shining, dangerous. A tiger in the night. Wong caught his gaze and smiled, warm and light as if he didn't lock his husband away every time he had to fight.

Wong prowled towards him. His grin turned possessive, terrifying. So different from the even-mannered, stoic librarian of Kamar-Taj Stephen fell in love with.

"Why?" He asked, like he did every time Wong came back to him. "Why do you do this?”

"I do this because I care about you." He said. The grin turned psychotic. "Can't you see?" Wong brushed his hand through Stephen's hair, cupping his cheek. "I love you. I have to keep you safe."

"Then why--"

"I forgot you can't see it like I can. You're mine," He suddenly growled, yanking Stephen into a harsh, possessive kiss. It was like a ritual now; Wong granting Stephen access to his vision when they kissed.

Stephen still didn't understand. All he saw was him, docile and calm for Wong's viewing pleasure, safe from the horrors of the world. Stephen cried when he saw them, visions of a convoluted man. He cried too, when Wong had his way with him and left without another word. He cried for the man he fell in love with before the illness took over and Stephen was the only one who survived the attack on Kamar-Taj, his survival rewarded with a life of captivity, guarded by a stranger wearing his husband's face.

Ao3

[sticks-and-stones-are-great]

Mediwhump May - Day 8

"Scared of Blood"

(Dark Shadows 1966)

@mediwhumpmay

Willie knew he’d made a mistake before he’d even slipped. He had been sawing a piece of wood to size to repair the floor. A hand in the wrong spot. The gulf of time between realization and the consequences. He knew he had messed up. But he could do nothing to stop it. 

The saw skipped.

White hot pain across Willie’s wrist, burning and tearing.

He froze.

Willie watched the blood bloom in the ragged wound. He let the saw drop to the floor with a clatter. He dimly heard himself panting. He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t any air. His fingers went to his collar to loosen the buttons there but his hands were shaking too much. 

Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision. The room whirled around him. 

Blood ran down Willie’s arm from the wound, red and dark. He watched it drip onto the floor. 

No, please, no.

It couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t bear it if it happened again. 

Willie clamped a hand over the wound. He squeezed his eyes shut. That helped. A little. Not much. 

He couldn’t breathe. His heart raced and stuttered. He was dizzy and hot and cold and sweating and oh god-

Those teeth were in him again. 

He was alone in the dark. Alone with the monster. He was alone and no one was coming to save him. 

Willie scrambled backward across the floor until his back hit the wall. He pulled his knees to his chest. He held his bleeding wrist close to his chest. Covering it. Hiding it. 

Yes, hide it. If no one sees, he’s safe. No one can see it. 

Warm blood, slick against his skin, coated his hands now.

Don’t look at it. Never look at it. 

The wound throbbed and burned. 

Willie slumped down to the floor. It was dusty but cool. He was dizzy. He kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying, wasn’t he? Dying alone in the dark. Again. 

Ringing in his ears. Everything faded away. Faded to darkness.

[midknightmenace]

Whumpee over hallucinating

Untrusting of their eyes now and broken after so long hallucinating they finally snap. Cuts/rips their own eyes out, caretaker finds them like a day later "What have you done, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" " I made them stop." Creepy smile paired with the blood still present on their face, clothes and hands. Horrified caretaker. Trauma!

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

[petit-etoile]

in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

　　　　　　𝐈. ﹕previous fic　　　　　𝐈𝐈. ﹕next fic

‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends  —  He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink  —  ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m  —  Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are  —  Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you  —  to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone  —  ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion  —  ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can  —  ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest  —  yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but  —  I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

[saffusthings]

You're Everything I Need (and More)

oscar piastri x personal assistant!reader

summary: the one where they deal with the aftermath word count: 10.6k (…sorry?) warnings: descriptions and talks of abuse, trauma, disassociation, other abuse aftermath, please don't read if any of this stuff is not the vibe, some gore, being threatened by a weapon, whump, poorly edited writing a/n: comments/feedback would be much appreciated! and let me if like it, bc i have some ideas for a mini-series

Part 1

Oscar thinks he must be imagining the way her breathing begins to quicken and she starts to shift, tossing and turning in on the bed. He freezes instantly when he feels her start to squirm beside him- not knowing what to do, whether to move or to pull her closer. 

But then she lets out a small noise that sounds eerily like a whimper, and his entire body jolts with panic. Her eyebrows are pinched together - her face is a picture of distress, her body still squirming and shifting restlessly.

He’s half-concerned she’s in pain, half-thinking she’s having a nightmare, and he’s suddenly desperate to figure out which one it is so he can stop it. 

“Hey,” he calls, trying to make his voice sharp and loud enough to wake her up but gentle enough not to scare her. “Wake up. Wake up, it's just a dream-“

She mutters in her sleep, her breathing picking up. “Please don’t- Stop, stop-”

“Wake up,” he says again, his heart racing, begging her to wake up so she can stop reliving it. “Wake up - you’re dreaming, it’s not real, c’mon-“

Her eyes fly open, wild and frenzied. Her breaths come in short, quick bursts as she relies on her instincts and uses them to put as much distance between her and the voice emanating from the dark abyss. She rapidly shuffles away from him, ignoring the pain that screams at her from various parts of her body as she does everything to get away from her parents’ wrath.

They’re going to kill her.

She flails away from the figure in the dark, moving her limbs rapidly with only survival at the forefront of her mind. Scrambling to get up, she ends up backed up against the wall, wielding the switchblade she always keeps around defensively.

For a split second, Oscar’s completely frozen. 

“Hey,” he tries in the calmest tone he can muster, raising a tentative, open palms slowly. “Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s me, you’re safe, you’re okay-“

“Stop it!” she shouts defensively, pleading. Her chest heaves with each breath. “Jus- Just stop, don’t do this, don’t touch me-“

Oscar freezes again, his face falling in worry. He keeps his hands up, his heart racing as he scans over her. She’s terrified, he thinks, taking in her shaking figure, her hands clutching a knife, her eyes locked onto him like he was a threat. 

“No- no, I won’t touch you,” he assures quickly. “I won’t touch you, I’m not gonna touch you, I promise. Just- just breathe, alright?”

Her eyes look around frantically, trying to make sense of things. He’s starting to panic now - she’s still completely lost in her nightmare, still terrified, and every time she looks at him, he’s sure he can see a flicker of fear in her eyes. 

Fear of him. 

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he says again, his voice still as gentle as he can get it. “Look at me. Just look. It’s me, I’m here, I’m- I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear on my life-“

“Listen to my voice,” he coaxes again, his tone even. “Just listen to me. Concentrate on it. Listen to me, and look at me, and tell me who I am.” 

He knows he has to get her to recognize him. He knows it’s the fastest way to get her grounded, to get her back to reality.

“I…” her brows furrow, her heart beating wildly. “I- W…Oscar?W”

“Okay, that’s good,” he murmurs, taking another step closer to her. “That’s good, you’re doing good, listen to me, alright darling? You’re doing good.”

He’s still afraid that she’s going to flinch away from him - that at any second, she’ll realize that she’s trapped against the wall, and start squirming to get away from him again.

“Look at me,” he demands again, more forcefully this time, desperate to get her to open her eyes, to look at him. “Look at me, darling, please.”

She wrings her body from his touch like it burned. “Don’t touch me-“

Immediately, her knife hand is ready, pointing the small weapon.

“I’m not going to,” he responds instantly, his hands flying up in a gesture of surrender. He was not expecting that. He’d only meant to hold her face - keep her gaze on his - but she’d flinched away and was now pointing a knife at his goddamn chest.

And suddenly, he’s terrified. 

Not for himself - he’s never scared of her, and he knows rationally that she won’t stab him. He’s terrified that she’s gone back to that state of complete panic, and that if he tries to move, she’ll hurt herself.

He keeps his voice soft and quiet, slowly moving his hand towards the one holding the knife. 

“Give me the knife, yeah?” He begins, watching her eyes closely for an indication of her reaction. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, no, no-“ she mumbles, clenching her eyes shut momentarily. “It’s- It’s mine.”

Her arm instinctively moves closer to her, causing her to bend her elbow and weaken her stance. She doesn’t seem to notice, with the perceived threat to the only defense she has.

Tears stream down her face in frustration. She’s so scared, her heart is thudding and she’s only scaring herself more. God, and Oscar is being so patient and collected about this but she can’t seem to fucking calm down-

It breaks his goddamn heart to see her like this. But he has to act quickly, he knows it’s the only way this is going to work. There’s no way she’ll give him the knife - she thinks it’s the only protection against him, against whatever she’s facing. 

Which means he has to overpower her to get her to release the weapon.

God- he hates it. 

He never ever wants to use any kind of force on her. She’s fragile enough as it is without having to use force on her, but she’s not going to put that knife down on her own. She’s terrified and in panic mode, and the only way to get her grounded is to get her to let the damn weapon go.

He’s going to hate himself for this later, even more than he already does, but he has to.

His hands slowly go up in the air again, pretending to surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “Okay, I won’t take it. Is that better?”

Face wet with tears, she nods weakly. Her mind is a whirlwind - a messy storm of relief that he won’t take her knife away, and confusion as to why she feels horrible about it.

He feels a small sense of relief at her nod, but she still doesn’t lower the weapon in her hand, still pointing it at him warily. With his hands still held carefully in the air, he begins to move a lot slower and with careful, methodical steps towards her. 

She’s watching him like a hawk, still pointing the knife at him, but her body seems to have lost some of its tension.

He can see her trembling, her eyes glistening with tears, and he mentally curses himself for the hundredth time for not being able to protect her from the hell that she calls home. He slowly advances, his steps measured and deliberate. He’s close enough to her now, close enough to see the tears staining her face. 

With him so close now, Y/N is able to see him better in the darkness of the room.  His hair is still mussed up from sleep, his eyes… still familiar and inviting. 

Oscar has always had the kind of face that makes you feel like you could talk to him about anything, go to him any time and still feel comfortable. He has a kind face, and certainly a personality to match.

It’s this familiarity and coolness that she recognizes in his eyes now.

The hand holding the switchblade drops marginally in the air, her stance less taut.

A breath escapes him when he sees her hand start to drop, her stance loosening. 

It’s working- it’s working. He’s doing something right, thank god. 

He takes one more slow step towards her, close enough now to reach out and touch her.

“Oscar,” she breathes shakily in recognition. His familiar silhouette feels like hope in light of the violent thumping in her chest, the panic that’s been coursing through her veins.

She may be afraid - but Oscar’s here.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, an alarm bell is going off at the fact that Oscar is so close - why is he so close? 

But it’s difficult for her to focus on that when there’s a knife in her hand and there's people that will make sure that she suffers. So the only thing she seems to register at the moment beside her panicked frenzy is that Oscar is here.

He watches her eyes flit between his face and the knife in her hand, her mind clearly struggling with the confusion of it all. He hates having to do this, really and truly hates that he has to be yet another person in her life forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to. 

But it doesn’t change the fact that it has to be done. 

His heart breaks at her words, but he reaches out and grips her wrist, forcing her hand to release the knife before she hurts herself or him.

“Osc-” she yelps in surprise, caught off guard. But before she can finish the word, his hand clamps firmly around her hand holding the switchblade. Fingers wrap themselves around her wrist, forming a circle and applying more and more pressure until the muscles there have no choice but to release the grip she has on the knife.

In an instant, Oscar scoops the fallen knife on the sheets beside them and pockets it for the time being. 

“Look at me,” he says, his voice rough. “Just look at me.”

He’s ready to pin her the wall and hold her there until she calms down so she won’t flail or fight back or-

Instead, he’s completely caught off guard. It’s like a switch flips the second the knife drops out of her hands. 

All the fear that had been hammering against her chest takes the form of a choked out sob. Warm tears roll down her face as every muscle in her body gives out at once - whether in fear or relief or exhaustion, it isn’t clear. Maybe all of the above.

Completely spent and still trembling with sobs, she collapses straight into his arms.

As soon as she collapses, his arms go around her, pulling her tighter against him in a firm and protective embrace. He holds her against him, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down her back, making soft shushing noises to try and soothe her.

“You’re okay,” he mutters, his lips right beside her ear. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

She babbles words about how scared she was and how sorry she is over and over again, most of it practically incoherent.

Her body falls against his as she allows herself to be enveloped in the warm embrace of Oscar’s strong arms.

All he can do is hold her tight, listening to her mumbles and trying to decipher which of them are apologies and which ones are something else. He can feel the dampness of her tears against the skin of his neck and the warmth of her body against his bare chest, and he curses himself internally once again for not being able to protect her sooner.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. “You don’t- you don’t have anything to apologize for, okay? None of this is your fault, absolutely none.”

“I’m so sorry, I almost hurt you, M’so sorry, I was just scared,” she mumbles into his chest. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong me, I’m so sorry–”

“Shhh,” he mutters, shaking his head against her hair, his hand still rubbing up and down her back. 

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m not hurt. I’m fine, I’m right here.” 

Even though her eyes are red-rimmed and tearstained and the bruise on her collarbone is almost taunting him, she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world. 

He takes a deep breath before asking a question. “Is this something that’s happened before?”

She takes a deep breath before answering. “Well I’ve had nightmares sometimes, I guess,” she explains. They happen often, actually. 

“But this one was…” she struggles to find the right word, so she settles for, “…different.”

His hands reach out, tracing a soothing pattern against the small of her back. “Can you explain it? The nightmare?”

“I…” her voice shakes.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, holding her tighter against him. “Don’t force it if you’re not ready, okay? I’m pressuring you to answer, I just-“

He stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I’m just trying to understand what happened. That’s all.”

She nods in understanding. Her fingers find him, playing with them to have something to do with her hands as she tries to keep her voice level.

“It’s a memory, really…” she trails off. “Of tonight. When they…”

He’s not sure whether he wants her to keep going. He can already tell whatever she’s about to say isn’t going to be something easy to hear. 

But she’s talking now, and he isn’t about to stop that, not when she needs to actually talk through this kind of stuff. She’s been keeping this bottled up for god knows how long, and now is the time to get the words out.

“When they were… more angry than usual,” she says, wording it as delicately as she can. “They were unhappy with how much I’d been away for work, too busy to be home for them.”

Her voice shakes just a bit when she tells him, “When they didn’t kill me, I guess they tried to beat it out of me.

He can’t help it this time - his grip tightens around her at her words, the muscles in his jaw clenching when he hears them. 

“Y/N,” he says gently, still rubbing her back slowly, still trying to coax out the words, “when you say angry, what do you mean by that? How often do they…?”

He knows the answer already.

She’s quiet for a long while, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly against her cheeks as she tries to keep a new set of tears from falling. Then she starts to talk again, her words a soft mumble against his skin.

“More often than just tonight,” she confesses. It’s the best answer she can really give him.

He knew it. 

He takes a deep breath, doing everything he can to maintain a neutral expression on his face. The last thing she needs right now is him doing something to send her spiraling again. So instead he just holds her tight, listening to her speak and running a hand soothingly through her hair.

He has to fight to keep his voice steady when he asks the next question. “Those other times… was tonight the worst so far?”

“Yeah.”

His grip on her tightens just a fraction, his heart clenching at the one-word answer. 

God, he just wants to protect her. He wants to wrap her up in his arms and never let go - shield her from anyone and everyone trying to hurt her ever again because nobody deserves any of it. And more than that, he hates the fact that there isn’t anything he can do.

“I’m sorry, Oscar,” she hiccups. “I- Fuck… l had a fucking knife pointed at you, god-“

“Don’t be sorry,” he says forcefully. “You were scared, it was a- a defense reaction. Don’t apologize for something like that.”

His fingers reach up, gently tilting her chin up towards him.

“And don’t worry about me. I’m fine, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

She curls in closer against his chest, almost as if eliminating the space between means both of them would fuse into one with sheer force of will. A weak hand comes up, sleeve pulled up and over her knuckles, to gently hold the side of his face, tilting it toward her.

His eyes flutter closed at the gesture, and he can’t help but lean into the touch. She’s touching him, in the softest, gentlest way possible, but she’s touching his face and somehow it feels like home. 

His own hand reaches up to grip her wrist, and he gently presses a kiss against her palm.

“I could never bring myself to hurt you,” she whispers, but the look in her eyes suggests she’s not even aware that she spoke that thought aloud.

“I’d never want to hurt you. You know that, right? I’d never forgive myself if I did.”

The raw sincerity in her voice actually makes his heart ache a little, and he has to take a deep breath so his voice doesn’t break. He leans his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed.

“I know,” he reassures her. “I never thought for a second that you’d hurt me. I know that you’d never hurt me, okay?”

“Do you really believe that?”

He scoffs a little at the question, shaking his head.

“Of course I do,” he affirms. “One-thousand percent. I trust you more than anyone, I promise you. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t think I’m some kind of… like, monster?” she asks, dubious.

His expression falls, his jaw clenching again.

“No, no, never,” he murmurs. “Of course I don’t think you’re a monster. You’re the farthest from a monster.”

His thumb gently traces a soothing pattern against the outside of her thigh. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

She shrugs. “I’m messed up - unstable. I could have really hurt you tonight.”

“You’re not messed up, you’re not unstable, and you can’t use a traumatic experience, that you had absolutely no control over, as any gauge of what you ‘could’ have done to me,” he argues, his voice firm. 

“You didn’t hurt me, you wouldn’t have hurt me,” he tells her with complete conviction. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” The words slip out of her mouth before she can even think about it.

He lets out a breath when he hears her answer, his eyes opening and taking a long, quiet minute just to look at her - taking in the bruise on her collarbone and her split lip, along with the cuts and scratches against her arm. 

He gently brushes a hand over the bruise on her collarbone, his touch feather-like and soft.

“Jesus,” he exhales. “They really did a number on you.”

His finger reaches up to gently brush over her split lip.

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she simply shrugs, content with tracing mindless patterns against his sternum and across his chest.

He falls quiet after that, and for a long while - the only sounds filling the room being their breathing, and distant whir of the ceiling fan. Then he speaks, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.  “Let me take care of you, please.”

“Hmm?”

His hands reach out to gently cup the sides of her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

He tilts her chin up, gently forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You’ve had to take care of yourself for god knows how long, and I get it if you think you’re used to doing everything on your own… but you don’t…” he swallows, his eyes searching her face. “You don’t have to do it alone, okay? Let me take care of you, just a little.”

She just looks at him.

She looks at the genuine earnestness in his eyes, the bags under his eyes from not getting enough sleep tonight. She feels his heart thudding in his chest where her head is leaning against it. She breathes and is immediately met with the scent of him. His eyes are dark brown - they’re warm like honey and have flecks of caramel in them that remind her of the way kindness feels.

She wants to believe him.

He watches her look at him, the expression on her face an unreadable mixture of emotions - he can see a hint of fear and a hint of guilt and a hint of confusion and a hint of hope, all swirling around in her gaze. 

She’s just too damn scared to do it. She settles for murmuring, “You already do, Oscar. More than you know.”

He can’t resist the soft smile that immediately emerges at her words. 

He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t tell her how many times he’s seen her favorite tea or candy or snack at a gas station and had a small internal debate over grabbing it, and how many times his hand subconsciously ends up reaching for it anyway.

He doesn’t tell her how many times his brain instantly goes to her when he’s working on something that’s giving him a difficult time to solve because he knows she’ll see something he missed.

He doesn’t tell her that he looks forward to the times she randomly texts him an image of a bird or a duck or some other critter with a “hey look at this” caption because it always makes him smile. 

He doesn’t tell her how much he enjoys taking care of her, how much he’s glad to be able to do it. 

All he does is brush a strand of hair away from her face and murmur a soft yeah in agreement.

She hums softly. “Think we can still catch some sleep tonight?”

He hums, considering the question for a moment. His eyes glance at the clock on the dresser - 4:37am. 

He honestly doubts that he could fall back asleep so quickly after everything that’s happened tonight, and he’d be surprised if she could too. If they’re going to be kept awake anyway, he has other ideas about what they could do that’s more entertaining than staring at the ceiling.

“Osc? Y’there?” she mumbles. 

He immediately snaps back into the moment at the sound of her voice. 

“Y-yeah, I’m here,” he assures her, a hint of guilt present because he didn’t respond right away. “I’m here, I’m here,” he repeats, his arms instinctively pulling her flush against his body.

“Sleep?” she prompts softly, reminding him of her question she was waiting for him to respond to. He hums in agreement - not because he thinks they actually WilloW, but he’s willing to give it a try, at least. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, his hand coming up to brush her hair back. “Yeah, let’s sleep.”

“Could…”

He’s just about to close his eyes when he hears her speak, his eyes snapping open again. He turns his head to look down at her, waiting for her to continue what she was going to say.

“Could I lay my head on your chest?” she asks, except the words are mumbled so fast that they’re barely understandable.

He swallows hard before responding, his heart rate increasing when she makes the request. 

He nods quickly. 

“Yeah-” he affirms. “Yeah, of course-”

He’s in the middle of repositioning himself - so he’s laying on his back - when he realizes that she’s not moving. He pauses, looking down at her still curled against his side, and silently gestures for her to move.

When she still doesn’t move, he gently pulls her up - coaxing her body to move across his and come settle against his chest. 

She hums contentedly once they’re settled in - not unlike the manner in which a cat purrs upon finding a comfortable patch of sunlight to curl up in. He wants to laugh at the comparison because it’s both accurate and hilarious. 

He doesn’t, though - he just smiles and buries his nose into her hair as she gets comfortable, inhaling the scent of her and taking in the feel of her warmth against his chest.

“G’night, Osc,” she manages to mumble, before the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls her into finally falling asleep.

It takes him a few minutes after she falls asleep to actually relax. 

Oscar finds he can’t stop thinking - about the injuries on her body, about her parents, about the past few hours. He’s too wired to actually sleep, but he also finds that he’s not in a hurry to fall asleep, either. He’s much more invested in the feeling of her head against his chest, of her body in his arms, of her warmth against him.

Sleep isn’t something that comes easily to him when he’s already overstimulated and anxious.  In fact, it’s something he has to work at - even when he’s not feeling anxious - by doing a breathing technique or counting backwards to make his brain stop so he can sleep. But he finds that right now, with her body wrapped around him so perfectly - he feels his eyes drifting closed against his will, and his muscles relaxing like he’d just gotten out of a hot tub. 

He gives in to the feeling, and slowly slips into a peaceful sleep.

When he finally starts to stir awake the next morning, he’s met with the sunlight peeking in from around the curtains, and a lack of a body against his chest. 

He blinks and turns his head to look for the girl, only to find the bed empty and his heart rate immediately picking up in panic. He shoots up - ignoring the brief dizzy spell he gets from moving too quickly - before throwing the covers off of him and rushing toward the bathroom - desperate to confirm for himself that she’s still here.

Instead, he's caught off guard by the smell of coffee brewing. Huh?

The sound of the coffee machine stops his panic momentarily, causing his movements to halt as he listens to the steady stream of liquid rushing into the pot. 

He’s silent for a few seconds before he starts moving again, his legs carrying him out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. 

He stops in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe when he finally lays eyes on her. She’s standing in the kitchen in front of the coffee machine, her body still clad in that damn hoodie. 

He can’t help the wave of relief that washes over him when he sees her and realizes that she’s fine - she’s here, and she’s okay, and she didn’t leave.

"Good morning," she greets softly once she notices he's there.

He can’t help the small smile that immediately appears on his face. He knows it’s a stupid thing to get happy over - it’s just a regular greeting after all - but he hasn’t heard her voice in a few hours and he’s honestly missed it. 

“Morning,” he greets, his eyes drifting over the counter - which is a scene of organized chaos - trying to see what exactly she’s doing.

"I, um, made coffee," she says, gesturing to the general area of the counter. She's made herself iced coffee using the ice from the fridge, and she's prepared a traveler's cup for him as well - exactly the way he likes. Two years of being the one to pick up his coffee order every time means she has it memorized, probably better than her own.

The idea that she knew exactly how he takes his coffee - down to how much cream and sugar he prefers - makes something stir in his chest, an almost giddy feeling that makes it feel like something erratic is happening to him. 

He pushes the feeling down, though, and his eyes instead focus on the counter - taking in the traveler cup in front of him.

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters, pushing himself off the doorway and stepping further into the kitchen. 

"Figured I gave you enough trouble last night," she mumbles, embarrassed. "S'the least I could do."

He hates when she does that - turns a situation that’s not even remotely her fault and turns it into something that she feels guilty for. 

“You did no such thing,” he says quietly, his voice firm but his eyes gentle, making sure she knows that he genuinely means his words. She chuckles at his answer, before cleaning up the setup she’d used to make the coffees.

“Well, I’m gonna go ahead and figure out what the hell I can wear to work today,” she smiles at him, but it’s tinged with sadness. 

“Because we have… “ she glances at his wall clock. “About an hour before we’re both supposed to be at MTC.”

He opens his mouth to say something - anything - but he’s at a complete loss for what to say. 

Eventually, he just settles for a quiet, “Right.”

“You’re thinking so hard I can practically hear the gears turning,” she deadpans before taking a sip of her iced coffee. Her words cause the corner of his mouth to lift up at the familiarity - the sarcastic sass that’s been such a staple of their relationship for the past two years. 

“Stop being a smartass,” he counters, trying to go for his usual playful banter but ending up at fond instead.

“Only when you stop being a dumbass,” she quips.

This time, she does make him chuckle  - a gentle, low sound that’s filled with fondness. His heart settles when she starts acting like normal again - if her normal self isn’t completely present, her teasing will have to suffice. 

Once he’s finished taking another sip of his coffee, he finally starts to say what he’s been thinking since she sat down, “You know we’ve gotta talk about last night, right?”

She stills. 

“What do you mean?”

He’d been trying to ignore it - and she was acting like her normal sassy self now - but it needs to be addressed. He reaches out and places a careful hand against her arm - his fingertips barely grazing her covered wrist before he stops himself and pulls his hand back.

“Your parents. That needs to be discussed. They need to be reported to the police - you understand that, right?”

“Oscar,” she says, with a tone so cold and final that he’s having a hard time fathoming that it was even coming from her. “Don’t.”

His eyes widen, his mouth opening in disbelief. She can’t possibly be suggesting what he thinks she’s suggesting. He’d thought it was just some kind of weird denial she was living in - not that she was actually going to let her parents get away with hurting her like this. 

He can’t help the anger that’s boiling to the surface, his voice raised as he speaks, his hands clenched into fists. "What? You’re seriously actually suggesting that you don’t want to press charges!? Are you crazy?”

She shoots him a look so sharp that he immediately feels guilty for using the word. He stops himself, his face softening when he realizes just how badly he’s stepped out of line.

He’s being insensitive - not to her but to the situation - and he needs to remember that. His eyes immediately soften, his stance opening as if to let her in.

His words come out quiet, but tinged with desperation nonetheless.

“I can’t just let them do that, okay? You can’t expect me to stand by and watch that happen to you and do nothing about it!”

“You can’t.”

He takes a breath, trying to control the growing frustration he feels. He grits his teeth, letting out a slow breath before trying again. In a calm tone, he says, “I won't, if that's what you want. But can I at least ask you why you don't want to do anything about it?”

Her gaze lowers, looking anywhere but at him. 

“Because I can’t,” she admits quietly.

When her gaze lowers away from him, he feels his heart clenching in his chest again. His fingers reach out for her chin, tilting it up so she'll look at him. His voice is still gentle as he asks, “Why not?”

“They…” she hesitates. “They have something I care about.”

His eyebrows furrow, his head tilting in response to her words. 

What could her parents of all people have that she could care about enough to justify them beating her?

And this is a step - an open door - that he needs to push. 

“What do they have, darling?”

“My brothers.”

His eyes widen again, shocked to hear that her brothers are somehow mixed up in this twisted arrangement. His voice is full of disbelief and confusion when he says, “Your brothers? What could your parents have that that could have possibly caused you-“

He hesitates, trying to find the right words to say what he means.

“I don't understand, Y/N. None of this makes sense. How can they- I just don't get it.”

“They take care of my brothers. If I have them prosecuted, I’d be taking my chances that a court would grant me guardianship over them, instead of them just becoming victims of the foster care system,” she explains quietly. “Even as an assistant at McLaren, I don’t make enough to give them the life they deserve - to pay for 2 more people's clothes, food, education and everything else they need.”

It’s out in the open now. She’s never felt like more of a coward in her life than when she confesses, “I need my parents to take care of them because I can’t.”

God, how is she supposed to look him in the eyes after this?

He can sense the shame radiating off of her in waves, and he hates it. She shouldn't have to be the one bearing the burden for her family, while suffering for it as well. 

She deserves better. 

His face softens, and he gently takes her hands in his, his fingers delicately tracing tiny circles across the inside of her wrist - trying to provide some sort of soothing.

She’s caught off guard by the gesture. She’s not entirely sure what reaction she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

It hurts him to know that she was expecting a different reaction out of him than kindness and gentle understanding. But he pushes that feeling down, and focuses on being there, and being in this moment with her. He keeps his eyes locked on hers, his thumb tracing gentle circles against the sensitive skin of her wrist.

“Say something,” she pleads softly, daring to look at him.

For a minute, he just looks at her - looks at the emotion in her eyes, looks at the uncertainty, looks at what she’s feeling but can't seem to be able to put into words. 

But he realizes that maybe there isn't anything that needs to be said right now. Not right now, when they're just sitting in this still silence. 

He leans down, and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"We're about to be late for work," she deadpans.

He lets out a short, warm chuckle. There we go.

It was the slightest hint of her normal, genuine smile, but it's a start nonetheless. He shrugs in response to her, reaching over to pick up his coffee with his free hand. 

"The day can wait," he replies, taking a sip of the warm, aromatic liquid.

“Maybe for you, Mr. Formula One star,” she mumbles absentmindedly as she pulls out her phone. She needs to find some place to pick up business casual clothes in the next 10 minutes or before she’s screwed for work today. Her clothes from last have blood in them, and she certainly can’t very well wear the pajamas she’d borrowed from Oscar for sleeping into the office. She pulls her phone out, and immediately, he's got another idea. 

He turns his body to face her, a smirk playing on his lips.

“How do you feel about a little shopping spree, Miss Assistant?” he asks slyly, an eyebrow cocked and his voice teasing. 

He's just got it all mapped out in his head - just a quick trip into town to pick up a few essentials and then getting back to MTC all in time for work.

“Huh?” she says not even looking up from her phone. Now where is the nearest Burlington?

He tries to suppress the laugh that threatens to bubble out of his chest at her words. There's just something so completely normal and casual about the fact that she's so nonchalant about being offered to go on what would likely be a £500- £1500 shopping spree. He raises an eyebrow, looking down at her and realizing he'll have to get her attention before she can even hear what he's saying. "Hello? Earth to Assistant - I'm trying to talk to you over here."

She looks up like she’s been caught. “Sorry, I was just-“

He grins, glad to have her attention, even temporarily. "Trying to google Primark? Or TJ Maxx?" 

He snorts, shaking his head at her, "I think we can do better than that, young padawan."

“What? No, I-“

"What?" he challenges. "Trying to find the cheapest department store in a five mile radius or something?"

She blushes, embarrassed. “No…”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips at seeing her reaction. "I would almost feel insulted if you weren't so damn cute when you're embarrassed." 

He looks her up and down, taking in her outfit - or rather, her lack of an outfit. 

"You need more than my hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to go into work, Y/N. I'll need to get you some jeans and a few tops-"

She immediately shoots down WthatW idea. “Look, I just need to get an outfit to get through today. I don’t exactly have a place to keep them or the budget, so it’d really be a waste of-“

The mention of money has him sighing again, his eyes rolling. She's so hellbent on trying to not let him spend anything on her - it's almost irritating. 

He shakes his head, his eyes boring into hers, his voice serious. "I'm paying, okay? So you can just shove that argument right back up your ass, okay? I've got money, let me spend it. It's not like I have anything else to spend it on anyway."

“Oscar, you can’t - plus, it’s not like I have my own place to keep a bunch of stuff. All I need is the one outfit, really. I’m thinking of checking out one of the spare rooms in Hospitality, and I could probably keep my spare things there.”

He takes a deep sigh at her explanation - her reasoning is just so bloody selfless. 

He knows how the spare rooms in Hospitality work - they're basically just tiny makeshift offices. And she has this thought about moving into them?

He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but the thought that this is what she's gotten down to is a hard pill to swallow. The anger wells up within him again - at her parents, at the system, at the world for being so un-fucking-fair.

"Look," he says, his voice hard, "I'm not letting you sleep in one of the bloody spare rooms when there's a perfectly good room in my place. You're not doing that bullshit, alright? It's not up for discussion."

"Okay, Oscar. Sure," she says resignedly. She doesn't have the energy to do this right now. She's... tired.

Surely they can go back and forth about this some other time. Right now, she's just trying to make it to work - she can't risk what feels like the only thing she has going for her at the moment.

He hears her agreement, and her tone, and it takes every little ounce of self-control that he has to not get even more frustrated with the situation. He forces himself to take a deep breath, giving her a nod. He can't force her to take him up on his offer - he understands what her pride means - but it's really not going to make life easy for him. 

He leans his elbow against the wall, his eyes meeting hers. 

"Fine. I will get you the essentials today then. That is something we agree on, right?"

He gives her a look that basically demands she agree with him. This is going to be non-negotiable. She's going to have at least five changes of clothes and necessities like razors and toothpaste at his apartment by the end of the day - period.

Whatever, she thinks to herself. She gives him a polite smile, before turning around to go.

"Hey-" his hand shoots out to grab her wrist gently, his touch just enough to stop her from leaving. 

"Hey," he repeats softly, his tone softer with the contact. 

When she finally turns to look at him, his eyes are soft, his thumb gently brushing over the sensitive inside of her wrist. He's going to give her a little bit of space right now - a little time to breathe, and then he'll give her another chance.

“Hey,” she repeats, giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

He pulls her in closer to him gently. 

"We... We're okay, right?" he asks quietly. 

Because this isn't how he wants things to be right now. He just wants her to give him a chance - to at least accept that he's trying to help her - that he's trying to make her life just a little bit easier. 

He brings up a hand, gently brushing back the strands of hair that have fallen across her face. His voice is soft when he speaks again. "Right?"

“Of course.”

He wants to ask her more questions. Are you upset? Are you okay? Do you need space?

But he doesn't want to push right now. 

He brings up his other hand to brush across the small bruises adorning her neck. His voice drops even lower when he asks, "Can I have a kiss?"

Maybe if he keeps things normal - maybe if he lets them just be them - she'll start to open up the way he wants her to.

She presses a soft kiss against his cheek, before pulling away. This time, the smile on her face feels the slightest bit more real. This side of Oscar seems to have that effect on her.

He wants to reach out and kiss her again - really kiss her and make her realize the way he feels about her - but he restrains himself from doing it. He's going to let her call the shots for now, let her decide what she wants this to be like. 

But that doesn't mean he can't tease just a little bit. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her gesture, letting out a soft snort. "If you're going to aim that low, I'll have to start bending down," he teases.

She rolls her eyes affectionately, and then glances at the time on the wall. “We should get going, yeah?” she asks softly.

He turns his head to follow her gaze to where she's looking at the wall clock, and finally nods. "Yeah. You're right."

He leans in to press a feather-light kiss to her jaw. "I gotta go change real quick, okay?"

“Of course. I’ll be waiting at the door when you’re ready,” she hums.

He gives her one more look - just to reassure himself that things are still okay- and nods, making his way toward his bedroom. He changes into a blue sweatshirt and a pair of jeans in record time, grabbing his wallet, phone and keys before making his way back downstairs to meet her by the door.

“…Oscar?”

He raises an eyebrow as he pulls his shoes on when he hears her call his name. "Yeah?" he responds, finishing tying his laces before standing up straight, his eyes finding hers.

“You… feelin’ okay?”

He blinks, looking at her oddly for a moment while his brain tries to process the completely out of left field question. 

Finally, a soft chuckle leaves his mouth. 

"Why do you ask?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow. "See something you like?"

“Osc…” she trails off, trying to find the nicest way to say this. “Today is FP1.”

When he blinks at her, she continues, gesturing to his outfit. “You’re supposed to arrive wearing the team kit?” she reminds.

He stares at her blankly for a few seconds - trying to come up with any excuse he can - before ultimately giving up and letting out a long sigh. 

"God-" he grumbles, pulling his shoes off his feet again. "Well, you've been doing things to my brain lately, okay? How do you expect me to remember normal human things?"

“It’s what I’m here for,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Technically, she’s right. “Now go change.”

He takes the reprimand with an exasperated roll of his eyes, turning on his heel and muttering something about her being bossy before heading back upstairs. Not five minutes later, he's heading back downstairs in his team kit, wearing a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“Okay Grumpy, let’s get this show on the road. You good to go?” she asks, checking in to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything else.

He's never been a morning person - and this morning seems to be the worst of all - so his reaction is more disgruntled than normal. He shoves his wallet in his pockets before raising an eyebrow at her. "What do you think?" he counters sarcastically.

“Ouch,” she remarks, wincing emphatically, lips pressed together into a straight line. “Got it.”

He lets out another sigh, shaking his head. He's a grumpy idiot in the mornings, but he can't help it. God knows he's not a morning person. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm just tired." 

He reaches out a hand, taking her hand gently. 

"But we've got a day full of work ahead of us. So come on," he says, tugging her toward the door softly. "Let's get going."

He closes the front door softly behind them, locking the door before starting toward the garage - his hand never leaving hers. When they reach the garage, he lets her hand go so he can get behind the wheel. She glances at him, wondering about the missing contact, but by then he’s starting up the car and getting settled into his seat before he looks over at her. 

"Seatbelt?" he asks.

“Always,” she confirms, clicking the buckle into place. “Think we still have time to stop at any of the shops?” she asks, hesitant. She knows he has a million more important things to be doing than chauffeuring her to the market for personal shopping .

He scoffs at the suggestion, his eyebrow twitching at the notion. 

"Seriously?" he asks, giving her an incredulous look. Sure, maybe he does have more important things to do, but there's a really short list of things that are more important to him than her.

"Of course we've got time. And if we don't, we'll make time."

She smiles sweetly at him, a little relieved by his answer. Of course, she knows still has a hectic day ahead and of course, she’s still worried about time - but it’s a weight off her shoulders to at least have one less thing to worry about.

And Jesus, maybe that kind of smile of hers is dangerous, or something, because the second it's on her face, a soft smile of his own pulls at his mouth. 

He figures it’s probably some psychological thing.

He starts up the car - letting out a little noise that's close to a chuckle - his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter as he tries to hold himself in check. 

He really wants to kiss her right now, but he decides to be good, instead. Be a gentleman, or something. He makes a mental note to be sure to kiss her later, really kiss her. Kiss her until he can't taste words on his tongue, and he can't whisper sweet nothings against their lips, and- 

He has to stop his train of thought before it goes in a direction he can't back away from. 

So instead, he decides to focus on the drive. 

"Let's go."

Once they’re parked in the staff parking at MTC, she turns to him to say, “You can go on in first, yeah? I don’t want them thinking you’re coming in late.”

He can see how much she's putting his needs before her own - and it does something… funny to his ego - a pleasant feeling that makes him smile to himself. He turns to her, reaching over to pull her to him, giving her a sweet kiss.  It's just a peck - soft, warm lips pressed against his cheek for a fraction of a second..

When it's done, he pulls back to look her in the eye, a small smirk on his lips. 

"I think we're both gonna be late," he says quietly.

“I can be five minutes late, “ she smiles kindly. “I am your assistant, after all. Not you.”

He shakes his head, trying to ignore the way something in his chest warms when he glances over to the passenger seat. Too much caffeine, perhaps. He reaches over to touch her face - but at the last second he changes his mind and goes for her hair, running his hand through the soft locks briefly before he pulls back. "Okay, five. Ten tops," he says, before giving her a look that reminds her there will be consequences if she's any later.

"See you inside. And no getting lost," he teases.

“You got it, boss.”

“…Oscar?” He hears Y/N’s voice as she knocks on the door of his driver’s room. Back to work, back to being professional, it seems.

He hears the sound of his door opening and Y/N's voice filtering through his door - and he's reminded with a jolt that yes, there is, in fact, work to do today. He sits up a little straighter, schooling his expression into one of a professional and putting a polite smile on his face. "Yes, Y/N? Come in."

She peeks her head in, hoping he’s decent this time. 

“Here to remind you that you have a meeting with the race engineers before we have the team meeting at 10, followed by FP1 before we round out the first half of the day with lunch at around one.”

His gaze finds hers easily.

She had that look - the one that told him that all the progress they'd made that morning had gone away as soon as she reached work - and he hated it. He'd missed the way she'd looked at him in the car - the way that was so filled with affection that it practically carried its own physical weight.

But that wasn't a look she could wear at work, and he knew that. 

So he nods and smiles at her. "Thanks Y/N. I'll be right there."

She checks the time on her phone. “If I’m not mistaken, you were actually supposed to be there… about 7 minutes ago.”

He winces, closing his eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh. 

The morning had been too distracting - what with the whole "girl he likes spent the night in his bed" thing - he hasn't given much thought to work. He should have been better prepared than this. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Oscar?” she says, waving a hand in front of him to break him out of whatever daydream he’s in. 

They can’t start the strategy analysis meeting without him, obviously, because they’re his race engineers. And yet if Oscar doesn’t show up right about now, the blame is sure to fall on her shoulders since she’s supposed to be his babysitter, apparently.

He takes a breath, giving her a small nod. He's been a complete dumbass today - a distracted, lovesick fool. He needs to get his head in the game. "Yeah, okay, I'm good. Let's go."

“Phone,” she reminds him, as she watches him leave it behind. He turns around, blinking at her before looking down at the desk. 

His phone. 

It was still there - forgotten on the desk because as soon as she'd come into the room, he'd forgotten all about everything except for her. He shoots her an irritated look, but he picks it up. 

He would never admit it in a million years, but the fact that she was being a nag right now was doing something funny to his heart. Must be allergies or something.

“Wallet.”

While it wasn’t needed, Oscar always preferred having it on him instead of leaving it in his room or his locker or his personal car. If he forgot it, he’d just end up having to ask her to go fetch it later. 

His other hand goes to his back pocket, confirming that his wallet was already tucked safely inside of it. "I'm not completely incompetent, Y/N - you realize that, yeah?" he says, the words coming out harsher than he meant for them to.

He didn't want to be so rude with her, but he was already running late, and she was being a bit of a nag.

“Yeah? Is your tablet back there too?” she retorts.

He bites his lip, his brain racing to figure out whether he had his tablet or not. 

Yes, it turned out. It was right where he'd left it on the edge of his desk - completely forgotten until this minute. He snatches it up, sending her a look, "Anything else I need to be aware of?"

“Just that you have a meeting you’re running 10 minutes late for,” she informs him.

“Well that, and you forgot to lock the car this morning.”

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He can't decide whether he's the most forgetful person on the planet, or the most distracted. 

Maybe he's not forgetful, maybe he's just not focused.

Yes, that sounds right. Distracted. 

He looks back up at her, a smile playing on his lips, "Anything else I may have forgotten? Like, I don't know, the way to walk to my meeting?"

“Only one way to find out, Sir.”

Fair enough.

"Oh come on, you mean you're not coming with me?" he teases, a smirk on his face as he reaches for the door handle.

“Of course not.” The face she makes suggests that that is obvious. “While you’ve got a meeting here with our race engineers, I’ve got to go meet with Lando and his team.”

He stops and turns back around, his eyes fixed on hers. "Lando? You're going to run off to talk to Lando all day?"

"Well there's a meeting with him and his team plus Zak, and I'd agreed to be your stand-in since you can't be in two places at once, so... yes."

He knows she's just doing her job, and he knows that it's completely irrational to be so jealous of her talking to Lando of all people. 

Lando is a member of the team, and one of his closest friends. 

That didn't stop the thick plasma of jealousy from clawing at his gut - he knows that Lando's got a soft spot for her. He tries his absolute best to play things off so he can seem cool and unaffected by her words, "Right. Got it."

She misunderstands his upset for something else.

She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about missing the meeting with Zak, okay? It'll probably be only like half an hour, and I promise to take good notes for you.”

She gives him a small smile. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

There's a warmth spreading through his body at her reassurance. 

She'd misunderstood him - she thinks that he's upset at missing the meeting with Zak. And she's right in a way - he should be upset because he does need to be at that meeting - but all he can focus on is the way she's smiling at him. 

And the way she's touching his shoulder. And the way her fingers feel against him. 

His eyes lock on hers.

They're interrupted by the sound of one of the race engineer's that Oscar is meant to be in a meeting with calling out to him from one of the meeting rooms.

"Right, right. I should-" he trails off, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "I'll see you later, okay?"

She says the same thing to him then that she says to him later, right before he heads out for FP1.

"Go make me proud."

He can't help but laugh at that - at the fact that she's treating him like he's a kid or a puppy or something. But here she is, being his assistant, his friend, his something - and her words are somehow the thing that's got him feeling ready to kick ass and take names.

Weird.

Once FP1 is over and done, everyone has worked up an appetite. Chattering voices fill the hallways as racers, assistants and various team members make their way to the main cafeteria. 

Oscar finds himself on the listening end of Lando’s rambles about things he noted about the car during their practice as they find a table to sit at.

He's not really listening to any of the words coming out of Lando's mouth - he can't stop thinking about how she'd wished him luck before he went out to FP1. 

He'd actually had a surprisingly good session. One of his best, even. No one else had tried that risky move in corner 9 that he'd tried - and the engineers seemed really impressed by his times. 

So she'd been right - he had made her proud. He'd made himself proud as well. 

When he finally does take a long enough break to pay attention to Lando's one-sided conversation, he realizes that the topic of conversation has already changed four or five times and he's completely lost. He sighs, trying to catch back up at some point in the monologue about Lando's new apartment in Woking or something. 

"Sorry - uh, what was that?"

“Dude, you there? You looked totally out right then,” Lando chuckles, before putting a forkful of tofu in mouth.

Lando's tofu looks awful. 

He's never going to understand why he's such a health nut. 

"I'm just-" he trails off, trying to find the words. He tries to come up with some excuse, but his mind is blank.

“What? Lookin’ for somethin’?” Lando asks, brows furrowed, and through a mouthful of drab-looking quinoa.

He shrugs, trying to play innocent. "Just… thinking." He's never thought about anyone else as much as he finds himself thinking about her lately - and they're not even really dating or anything. Hell, they'd just made out the night before.

“C’mon, mate. Spit it out already - you look…” he gives Oscar a judgemental once over. “Like your constipated or some shit.”

Meanwhile Oscar is thinking about where she could be. She’s his assistant after all - the three of them tend to have lunch together on race weekends. Plus, everyone else is here - so where the hell is she?

He chuckles - he's had way more embarrassing conversations with Lando before. 

"Constipated?" the Aussie counters, "More like in love. I'm having girl problems."

Lando, as wonderfully attention deficit as he is, seems to take that idea and run with it. He shovels another messy bite into his mouth. “Say, speaking of girls - where’s Y/N? Isn’t she usually here by now?”

Oscar snorts, reaching over to wipe a piece of quinoa from the corner of his teammate’s mouth. 

It's messy. The way Lando eats is gross. 

"No clue. She's not with you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He's only asking to be polite. If for whatever reason she was with Lando, he'd be pissed.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head in a way that makes his messy curls fall a little onto his forehead. “Last I saw her was when we left Zak’s office. Think she said summ’in about needing to grab something from her office?”

Oscar tries to fight the urge to get up and look for her. She’s his assistant, not his cat or something. Maybe she just wasn’t in the mood for lunch together today, or she could have an errand to run, or maybe she’s in a meeting that wasn’t in her calendar-

Lando must see the slight concern on his face, because he chuckles. "What, d’you miss her or something? You've been acting all weird since she left."

Oscar shakes his head, trying to play it off. "I'm just- I'm just wondering, y'know? She's supposed to be here, isn't she?" His stomach is tightening. Something feels weird about this. Maybe he should go find her? 

“We could check on her if you want,” Lando offers.

Oscar's eyes brighten at the suggestion. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. 

"Yeah. I think that would be…" he trails off, trying to think of the word.He nods, trying to pretend that she's not taking up literally all of the space in his brain. 

"Yeah, yeah, let me just throw this in the bin," Lando mutters, getting to throw his trash away. These new biodegradable straws were supposed to be good, something about them turning to compost for the environment. Instead, they decided to become compost-y mush in Lando’s mouth - every time. 

They make their way down the corridor to her office, approaching the open door. It’s empty. He exchanges a look with Lando, Oscar taking a deep breath as he pushes the door open. Lando waits somewhat awkwardly by the entrance to the restroom, unsure if he’s allowed to intrude or if he’s meant to just be moral support.

Oscar peeks his head in, taking a glance around. He sees a row of sinks, and no-one else. 

"Y/N?" he calls out gently.

He hears a faint gurgle in response. It sounds like it’s coming from one of the stalls further back, actually. The sound makes Oscar's stomach drop. It sounds like she's puking, or maybe choking. He runs over to all of the other stalls, his knuckles knocking loudly on them as he tries to get someone's attention. He calls out her name, hoping the sound of her voice will put this all to rest.

“Y/N, come out." he repeats, his voice desperate and worried.

When he knocks on the door to the last stall, the door budges. It isn’t locked.

He hears the sound of her retching coming from within, followed by a long, dry cough. 

Something tells him that this wouldn't be a good moment to go in - that he shouldn't look right now. But he doesn’t even give it a second thought. His mind is consumed with the thought of her - his concern for her, his person. 

He slowly pushes open the bathroom stall door, bracing himself for the sight before him. He finds a hunched over figure leaning against the wall, fatigued. But she tilts her face marginally in his direction, and Oscar’s heart stills in his fucking chest.

Her lips - the same ones that had been pressed against his just hours ago - are smeared with blood. Her teeth are speckled with it. Red splatters and spots of blood marr the front of her blouse. 

All of the air drains from his lungs at once. The air thickens. He can't move. 

What the hell even happened?

He tries to speak, but he can't get a word out. So what does he do?

He does the one thing he can - he moves in to hold her.

“O- Oscar,” she trembles, too busy to be bothered to be professional. 

“I think s- something’s wrong…”

Part 3

a/n: thank you so much for making it this far! i'd love to hear what you thought of it :)

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Hermitcraft / Life Series Fic Recs

Because I love so many of them...

I'll split the fics into completed and updating fics, and try to only recommend currently updating fics (i.e., not abandoned). I'm going to write a little about why I like each fic and what the general vibes are - so this is also a kind of review I guess?

I've tried to @ the authors if they have a public tumblr. Sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged, I can remove any @ if you ask (or if I have embarrassingly tagged the wrong person). Anyway, enjoy, and I appreciate reblogs because I want as many people to see these fics as possible!!

This ended up being incredibly long so I'm putting a divider here. Click to keep reading!!! Also, fair warning: shipping ahead! Some fics will have mild sexual content, please read the tags if you are unsure <3

Updating Fics

I have already recommended Help Me To Breathe, lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart), and There Are Monsters Nearby in this post, so I won't explain why I like them a second time, but definitely check them out!!

Death's A Good Gig by @mawofthemagnetar is probably going to be finished by the time this post gets to you, reader, but I'm putting it here anyway. It's short and sweet, one of my favourite representations of Zedaph (or, Zedeath) I've read, and just a joy to experience. If you like grim reapers and discussions of unions, this one is for you. Also I need more Zedaph in my life.

Look, I'm Sorry, Please Stop Scaring Everyone by @cat-in-the-desert reminds me a lot of a particular TV drama I liked when I was younger, which followed a similar premise. This fic follows Mumbo (vampire) and Grian (ghost) as they get up to various housemate shenanigans and meet their local magic-expert and salesman Scar. This fic is fun, but still includes a nice amount of Feelings and hinted-at Angst which I really love. It's lighthearted, but never boring.

It Hurts To Hope by Inquillitory is my favourite of the "Grian crash lands into Hermitcraft and causes problems for everyone" genre. Seeing how many fics there are with that premise, I think that says a lot. It handles Grian's weird Watcher stuff really well. Honestly, I just want to know what happens next!

killing the boy in the tv by @raspberrystruck is like a sickfic on steroids. If you want Grian with so much past trauma he forgets how to function in society, this is basically the fic for you. I really love how hybrid traits affect the characters' interactions in this fic, and how everyone is kind of messed up because of the imbalance Grian brings. It is wonderfully descriptive in all the right places!

Love Me Like I'm Dead by @daniofcrows is such a gem. You know how hard it is to find good Xisuma whump? It's impossible. I absolutely love how Xisuma and Evil X are characterised in this, and I am obsessed with the unique take on hanahaki disease which I have never seen handled in this way before. The balance between flashbacks and present day is maintained wonderfully and I cannot wait to continue reading this one. Wow.

Oh, you wanted me to do a verse? by @bugbbear is... kind of indescribable. It's horror. It's comedy. It's the apocalypse. It's boatem. Scar eats someone. One of the most interesting and unique apocalypse stories I have read. Slowly updating but worth the wait, in my opinion. This one NEEDS more attention.

So Much For Stardust by @a-plethora-of-peters is basically one of my all-time favourites. Which is a damn good achievement seeing as I don't usually read ZITS fics. Like, ever. In this fic, Skizz is a human abducted and hurt badly by aliens, now recovering in the care of good aliens who don't know how 'sentient' he is. Every update of this one makes me smile, it is wonderful. I love how the characters are written and how the different perspectives are shown. It is just great.

Solar Waltz by @raspberrystruck and aroundtheclock is a brilliant and very very sad regression fic. I love fluffy regression fics as much as the next guy, but this one just... hits different. The hurt/comfort levels are off the charts. Grian is so damn cute the whole time, while also being harrowingly complicated and sad. I am so ready for whatever comes next.

Tango's Castle of Cards by @evilrat-sabre is the one where Tango is a BUG. He's just a little guy (horror). This one is so beautifully written, with poetry-type interludes and perspective changes that really make everything feel so much more impactful. Finding out your buddy is a murder bug isn't the easiest thing in the world. I love this so much.

Traveling Thieves {Dark Fantasy AU} (series) by @amethystfairy1 is basically one of the series of all time. I know I keep saying that but it really really is. I love a good fantasy au, and I love an au with hybrids even more. In this world, hybrids are treated like slaves, but it isn't all doom and gloom for the main characters of each installment. There is a lot of hurt/comfort and the different stories feed into each other in really interesting ways. I try to read as much as I can, though I've missed a few because my emails are buggy. Definitely worth reading these fics, especially since now they're all starting to come together!

Completed Fics

Solving Counting Sheep by @theminecraftbee might have rearranged my brain chemistry a little. Another strong contender for 'fics that inspire me to kill Grian', this time with a more concrete notion of "replacement". Three is my favourite fucked up living weapon. It's so rare to find Evo fics in this day and age, too. This fic had me immediately clicking on every update as soon as I got the emails.

Rescue Fire by @imaginethat0327 is one of the most unique takes on a fictionalised life series game that I have ever read. The whole concept is explained in a realistic and easy-to-follow way, as we learn what's happening with the characters. There are several brilliant storylines happening in this one, but my particular favourites are Jimmy & Tango, Joel, and of course Scar & Grian. This fic is full of whump and, well, read the tags, it isn't always pleasant, but those are my favourite things ever. Definitely worth checking out this fic and its currently updating sequel.

don't you know about me? by takenbadgering is a wonderful comedy of errors with just the right amount of angst for a realistic setting type of fic. If you enjoy polyamory miscommunications, rave aesthetics, kandi, school teacher dynamics, and a lovely blend between grumbo, cubscar, and mumscar, this is the one.

Eventually the Birds Must Land by @milo-hypno follows a polyam ship I would have never thought of, and I cannot believe how much I loved it. This married-as-friends fic premise is wonderful, and captures the main trio (Grian, Mumbo, Impulse)'s personalities so well, while balancing them with the incredibly terrifying descriptions of the Watchers and their power. There's a lot of angst here, but it is ultimately hurt/comfort to the maximum degree. I loved reading it as it updated. Yay for gay marriage!

From The Archives (series) by @sixteenth-days was the absolute inspiration for my own Comms AU, and I will never forget its influence on me. As someone basically unfamiliar with TMA, I thought this series might be hard to follow, but it was not! I read all 57 parts in the span of two days, and I think it altered my brain chemistry. Please read it, even if (especially if) you don't know anything about TMA. The Cleo and Grian storyline lives in my head rent free. I mean it. This is horror at its finest. Also there's an audio series of this fic being released rn, which is very cool.

SUPERCRITICAL by @masque-of-plague hits different. It is such a wonderful take on the superhero/HotGuy trope, and it gets so super dark at some points! This one really takes swings at it's fictional government, which of course I love, while at the same time building this brilliantly emotional relationship between Scar and Grian. I do enjoy a bit of enemies to lovers, but the actual plot mixed into the story makes this one extra special. It is thrilling, with action that I don't get to see too often! Great work.

I am weary with contending! is one of the mumscarian fics of all time. From 'this house has people in it'-type horror, to magic gone wrong, to childhood trauma, to attempted assassination, to gender fuckery, this fic has it all. Usually I don't go for convex siblings, but this one is good enough to get a pass from me. Amazingly detailed worldbuilding alongside a brilliantly creative story.

It Spreads by @foxxology may not count as a fic, actually. It's a comic. But it's posted on ao3 so it counts. I was obsessed with this one as it was updating, honestly. It rocked me to my core. The art is phenomenal. The writing is brilliant. I love sculk.

Luck of the sea by Sleepy_Duck is a lovely take on mermaid and human interactions, with Grian as a marine life conservator and Scar as a very neglected mer. This one takes us emotionally in all sorts of directions, and offers lots of hope for the future of the characters. I heavily enjoyed this fic - if you like mermaids and marine biology, check it out.

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag is another mermaid fic but with a pretty different vibe. First of all, it follows what I would consider a rarepair Doc/Martyn. Second of all, reading this as it updated was a thrilling experience that nearly made me cry at certain points. I love how the relationship builds in this fic. It is honestly amazing. The whole idea of experimenting on a sentient sea creature, learning that he can communicate, then losing funding and having to save him from being dissected?!?! It's crazy. I love it.

Thus concludes my fic recommendations. I hope you enjoy at least some of these, and consider reblogging to spread these wonderful fics around <3

[youmarin]

If I Die Tomorrow I'll Love You Today | Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Pairings: Megumi Fushiguro x reader (platonic/romantic. the love interest <3), Gojo Satoru x reader (platonic), Tsumiki Fushiguro x reader (platonic), Itadori Yūji x reader (platonic), Kugisaki Nobara x reader (platonic). Lots of friendship and Gojo being a dad of 1, 2, 3…

Tags: angst, would this be considered a whump fic?, fluffy and wholesome, slowburn (?) (she fell first, he fell harder hehe), friends to lovers/childhood friends to lovers.

Summary: You inherit an ability that most people don’t, which turns your life upside down. At your lowest, a very special person lifts you up and gives you a second chance. You meet more people like you and enter their world, you fall in love and you’re willing to die to protect those who stood by your side.

Word count: 21,161 oops! (+ like +1.5k of footnotes with further details/commentary. I know. I should shut tf up.)

See the end for A/N.

masterlist

Your grandmother was the first person to notice it. That there were dangerous things lurking unseen to many. And that you could see them too. It was equally reassuring as it was scary to hear that in fact, the creatures you saw at school, that one time at the hospital when you nearly broke your arm, or even clinging to a person on the street, were real and not something your brain had made up. But you always felt safe with your grandmother. She seemed able to tell how to keep you out of harm's way. 

You felt very lonely in the world when she died. Felt that the darkness was now unavoidable. And you couldn’t shake the feeling off that maybe her death was related to it. 

Her house. You found yourself still drawn to it. It wasn’t far from your own home so when your parents couldn’t find you anywhere else, they would know that’s where you had strayed to, sitting there quietly for hours. At first they’d pinned it to grief, that you missed your grandmother, which was also true. You’d been closer to her. But your behaviour started to worry them. Always fidgety and anxious, easily scared and startled, seemingly spaced out in your own world. That worry turned to frustration, which turned to annoyance, and finally, disappointment. Then one day, they decided they had enough of it.

“Mommy?” You called out for her once you stepped through your front door, sliding your shoes off and putting them to the side. It was late, school having been over a while ago. “Daddy?” You winced, taking a step back when a stranger man emerged from the living room instead. Eyeing behind him, you saw your parents standing up from the couch next to each other. Their eyes were stern.  

You knew they didn’t understand you. They didn’t understand your grandma either. She’d told you not to mention anything to them. But even though you didn’t, they still figured out something was different with you too. It was okay if they didn’t understand. The part that hurt and that you didn’t understand was them pushing you away.

There was one thing your grandmother once told you that struck you, the thing that kept you going on during the first weeks of your confinement. Still, after losing count of how many months you’d been in the facility, it was hard. You were tired, your little body stiff and mind exhausted after another session of therapy in which you did your best to play along but ended up breaking down and trying to run away again seeking out, out, out.

Maybe you were never getting out. Maybe you really needed fixing. 

_____

You woke up, hearing the commotion coming from the hallway. Then the place grew eerily quiet again, just like always. You didn’t bother to move from your position, lying on the small cot of the room, your knees pressed to your chest. Not even when your door opened suddenly with force did you stir, just lifted your weary gaze towards it. 

The people you saw clearly didn’t work here. What they were doing in your room was beyond you. Had they given up on you here too? Would they take you somewhere else now? 

Another figure appeared in the room, so fast you were barely able to see it. The others weren’t even able to touch him. Soon enough, the other people were beaten up on the floor, the later arrival barely breaking a sweat. He dusted off his hands and turned to you. 

“Seems like I got here just in time.”  with the dull lighting in your room for the night, you could make out a smile shining on his face. His hair was all white, and it seemed so bright even in the dim space. As if things weren’t strange enough, his eyes were covered too. “Sorry about that.” 

Your lack of reactions were no good. It made him wonder if he really had gotten his timing right at all. Even though you were staring at him, your eyes seemed lost. It actually felt like you were staring past him. 

What was he doing? 

He already had enough being the guardian of the Fushiguro kids. 

“You’re a special little girl, aren’t you?”  When he uncovered his eyes, you saw they were a striking blue. They were beautiful yet somewhat intimidating. “You see things most people don’t.” 

After months of hearing the opposite and trying to get you to believe that in fact, those things weren’t real, it felt bizarre to hear it from him. Was it a test? Would they punish you if you fell for it? 

Your eyes caught movement behind him, the woman on the floor stirring. She released one of those strange creatures to attack him and you couldn’t help the scared feeling that flooded you. 

But in swift movements, he’d gotten rid of it and knocked out the woman again. 

He smiled a little wider when he saw you’d finally moved to sit, your body stiff. Though you looked a little shaken, “You saw it, didn’t you?” 

You nodded, hesitantly. 

“I see them too. And there’s more people like us. Like those two weaklings on the floor, but they’re bad.” 

“Are you real?” your innocent, unsure tone made him chuckle a bit. 

“Of course I am real. Here.” He extended a hand for you to touch. You looked at it, standing up and tentatively reaching for it. In fact, he was very real. You closed your fingers between his as if for final confirmation and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Now, let’s get out of here. What do you say?” 

One day you might find a person with whom you won’t have to hide this side of you. They might be just like you. You, my little girl, were that person for me. 

Her words resonated in your head again, and overwhelmed, you felt your eyes sting with pooling tears, letting go of the young man’s hand and throwing yourself towards him in a hug, little arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Woah, okay.” It caught him a little off guard but a chuckle fell from between his lips and he patted your head softly. 

He couldn’t get you to let go of him, so he’d settled on carrying you on the way out until they reached the car. 

______

“Megumi-chan!”  Megumi looked up, silently indicating that he was paying attention to his guardian. “I have someone I want you to meet.” When Gojo looked down, he followed his gaze to finally notice the little girl he was pointing at, hiding behind his legs out of shyness. “This is y/n-chan.”

Your eyes locked with the deep dark blue ones of the little boy Gojo had called Megumi, and you tilted your head curiously. 

His hair was weird. 

One of your hands let go of the fabric of Gojo’s pants and went up to your head, where your own hair was styled in two ponytails, one sitting slightly lower than the other. 

You looked up to Gojo when he spoke again, putting a hand gently on your back to get you out of your hiding place, “Go on, you can bother him all you want. He won’t mind.” 

Who’s he to tell if something bothers me or not?, Megumi thought, watching the interaction. 

“But I don’t want to bother him.” was your sweet answer. 

That made the young man laugh. “Of course you don’t. But just know you can. If he bothers you then you tell me.” 

Megumi glared at him. How was that fair? 

“You don’t have to hide. Ever. I’m just kidding. He’s a good kid just like you.” 

With a last gentle push, Gojo let you two alone in the Jujutsu High garden, after telling Megumi that he’ll come fetch him later for a little training session. 

You walk over to where he’s sitting on a blanket under the shadow of a tree, taking a seat too, just not too close. Then you take your new little backpack off your shoulders and rest it on your lap. Your fingers tighten a little around the bag. This is the first time you meet someone your age that can see curses, like Gojo told you they were called. And you could be friends.

“What?” His voice has a rough edge to it. You’re not quite expecting him to talk so you jump in your seat a little. Embarrassed by having kept staring at him, you looked down. He probably found it rude. 

He returns to what he is doing in his notebook and after a while you open your bag and reveal your also new coloring book and crayons, both settling to quietly work away. 

After a while, Megumi risks a glance at you again. He thinks your ponytails look a little funny. And upon further inspection he notices you’re wearing boy's clothes that look all too familiar. The way you were looking at him earlier with bright, big curious eyes is gone and you look sad now. When he looks down at the page you’re coloring, he sees it’s the picture of a dog. He wonders what made you pick the color red for it. Megumi thinks you’re about to cry when the crayon slips from your grip a little and you end up  accidentally coloring out of the lines.

You hear him mutter something and see he’s frowning. You’re really about to cry now because you think he’s annoyed that you’re there when suddenly there’s a big ball of white fur in front of you (it’s really not that big yet, just bigger than you). You gasp in surprise and delight. 

You look at Megumi again now, and he reaches to pet the dog. You take his gesture as an okay and smile at him. His little face feels warm but you’re too happily entertained with Shiro to notice it. 

After that, you play with Shiro for a while before Megumi releases it, you share your coloring book and the snacks Gojo put on your backpack. When Gojo comes back to pick both of you up, he finds you both had fallen asleep. You’re facing each other, one your tiny hands had somehow tangled in Megumi’s unruly hair and the other under one of his.

Soon enough, you were starting training too. 

Megumi watched sitting close by when Gojo told him it was break time. He’d called you over. 

Gojo explained to you several different moves you could make with the aid of a dummy and you watched attentively, trying to copy them as accurately as you could. 

“Hit it as hard as you can.” 

He watched you grow tired after some time, small face flush and sweaty. 

The young man grinned.

“Okay, why don’t you try to land a hit on me before we wrap it up?” 

“You can’t do it. He’s lying.” Megumi frowned, guessing the man’s intentions.  

He’d already fallen for it. 

“Oh c’mon, you’re no fun, Megumi.” Yet, his argument had been vague. You wouldn’t get what the little boy meant, “And why are you telling her what she can and can’t do?” 

“That’s not what I mean.” His frown grew deeper while he shook his head vigorously. 

“C’mon y/n.” He encouraged, seeing you hesitantly looking between Megumi and him.

“But I don’t want to hurt you.” You said, settling to looking down at your fidgety fingers. You looked really upset about it.

Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses and he stalled for a moment, your words warming his heart but playing it down by clearing his throat. “It’s alright, darling. You won’t hurt me.” He meant it. He risked a glance at the now pretty beaten up dummy you’d been practicing with. You were a little violent though, he worried. Then he caught himself. You really couldn’t hurt him.

“Really?” 

“Really.” He said reassuringly. “Now give me your best shot.” 

“Okay.” you said, still a little hesitant but going for it. 

And Megumi couldn’t help but watch as another person fell victim to Gojo’s little amusement. The man did feel a tiny bit bad, but it was too fun to resist it. 

You totally crashed and fell back on your bum. You didn’t crash with Gojo though. It felt like hitting a very clean glass door. 

You brought a hand up to your forehead, looking so dumbfounded while Gojo stood there laughing until he was in tears. 

“I tried to warn you.” Megumi walked over, extending his hand to touch the invisible barrier you’d hit. “It’s his technique. You can’t touch him unless he turns it off and lets you.” 

Your little self felt very betrayed, and both Gojo and Megumi picked up on it. “That was mean!” You said, standing up to try again only for your little fist to hit nothing. 

“I’m sorry!” Gojo managed between laughs.

“No you’re not!” Now Megumi joined forces with you. But it was no use, neither of you would land a hit.

You stopped, huffing and puffing, and that’s when Gojo took his chance to swiftly pick you up, “Gotcha!” making you squeal and giggle as he tickled you. Before Megumi could get away, he was being picked up too, squirming to get down but failing, instead landing on the man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. When he stopped resisting, he shifted to look at you, cheering as Gojo offered to get you ice cream as an apology. 

Your cursed technique then started to manifest itself. The most evident thing was that now when you looked at everyone, all your eyes would focus on was in this weird light flowing all over their bodies, twinkling brighter varying the person or how they seemed to feel. When you stared at Gojo, for example, it was almost blinding. 

And you felt exhausted. You wanted to say something about it but you couldn’t find the way to explain yourself. 

You were heading over to see Megumi and Tsumiki. Apparently, Megumi was sick. Nothing serious, just a common cold. 

“You okay over there?” Gojo asked, looking at you from the rear view mirror, you sitting on the back. He’d noticed your squinting for a while now. You avoided looking at him, choosing to look out the window as you nodded. “Is the sun bothering you? Here.” He handed you a strip of dark cloth, like the ones he used to tie over his eyes. He would give you his glasses but they were too big for you. He noted to buy you some. He chuckled as you put it over your eyes. “You look just like me now.” 

That made you laugh too. “I can’t see anything now.” But it brought you comfort, giving your straining eyes some rest. 

When you pulled over to a stop outside the apartment building, you forgot for a moment all about your own and got out of the car excited to see both of the Fushiguro kids. 

You hugged Tsumiki first before heading over towards Megumi. He’d been sleeping in his room until recently. You practically jumped over him. 

“I missed you!” you hugged him. “Are you okay?” 

Overall, he was. It only sounded like it wasn’t every time he coughed and Gojo worried his lungs would come out. He’d had a fever but it was better now, so he made Megumi take a nasty cough syrup after having dinner, considering that going to the hospital wasn’t necessary. 

“Get away from Megumi, y/n. You might get his germs.” Gojo joked. 

“Ew!” You giggled, watching Megumi’s sour face, the medicine taste in his mouth. Then you had an idea. “Oh, I know how you’d get better sooner, Megumi!” Your eyes shined. Forgetting all about the gross stuff Gojo said, you leaned over with your hands on his shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Now!” 

Megumi’s little round cheeks colored. “Um, thank you.” 

 He stared at you and also noticed your sort of unfocused stare. You were looking at him but at the same time it seemed like you weren’t. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhmm!” You nodded, still sitting on your knees in front of him on the bed. 

You settled in a comfortable silence. Megumi stared at you with tired eyes, as your own tired ones fixated on whatever you’d been staring at for a while. “You’re shining, Megumi.” you revealed, words a little slurred with what he figured was sleep. He chuckled at your odd comment.

When you place a hand over his arm, following the flow of light you saw, he feels something strange. It’s associated with you, it feels like you. For a moment he swears he sees something shining white from where your skin touches and thinks he might be getting a fever back and he’s hallucinating. But in a blink, it’s gone and he discarded calling for Gojo. 

Satoru doesn’t know when he dozed off on the couch. But it’s still too early in the morning when he’s startled awake by Megumi calling for him, his voice alarmed.

You had picked up Megumi’s cold. Since you were already exhausted it had gotten worse. You were shivering, hair sticking to your burning forehead with sweat and your cheeks red with a fever too high. Megumi’s terrified by your side, and Gojo’s not doing much better. When he gathers his bearings enough, he picks you up, your small body slumping against his and he’s rushing out of the room. There’s no time to argue with the other two for them to stay behind so they all get in the car and rush to the hospital. 

“She got sick because of me.” Megumi mumbles to him, eyes downcast. They’re sitting on the chairs outside your hospital room. Tsumiki’s sitting by his other side, fast asleep with her body leaning against his after he got her to calm down. 

“Don’t say it like it’s your fault. You couldn’t possibly know she’ll get like this.”

Maybe that kiss was a little too effective, Megumi thinks. He’s feeling much better now. But he’d rather you not giving it to him if it’d made you sick. “I think she has been feeling bad since last night.” 

“What makes you think so?” Gojo asks him. 

“She said something weird. That I was shining. And she sounded tired.” 

“Shining?” 

When the doctors got your fever under control and later in the day you woke up, they were all in your room. You’re a little scared until you see them come in. 

Gojo stares at you while you talk with the kids, studying you closer. He still sees you squinting from time to time, especially when you turn to look at him.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, little miss?” He finally speaks up. There’s a worried look on your face and you open your mouth, then close it. You shake your head. “Are you sure?” 

“I-I don’t know.” You settle with.

“You don’t know?” He quirks a brow. 

Tentatively, you reach for him, he’s sitting by your bedside. You blink a couple times, trying to get used to the “light”, your little finger tracing up his arm. “It’s too bright.” 

It clicks now. Gojo beats himself for not noticing it sooner. You’d been struggling with your technique this whole time. He sighs, expression softening.

“It’s okay. We’ll handle it.” He moves to sit beside you on the bed, then places his hands over your eyes. 

“What are you doing?”  Megumi asks, eyeing the man strangely. You chuckle, also wondering what Satoru’s doing. 

“Doesn’t it feel better?” 

You nod. 

“It was my bad, okay?” Gojo says, looking at Megumi. 

__________

School had been hard to adjust to, being at a new place and a little behind the others, adding all the new things you knew now. But it was okay. Just. Lonely. You didn’t call attention on yourself and spent most of your free time alone. You wondered how Megumi did in school. You only saw him on weekends when Gojo brought him to Jujutsu High for training or on other occasions when Gojo dropped at his place with you tagging along to check up on him and his sister. 

“Say, Megumi-chan,” Gojo started one evening while he finished folding his laundry. He wasn’t expecting the man to drop by today. “What would you say if y/n-chan started middle school in the same school as you guys the upcoming year?” At the mention of your name, Megumi perked up. Gojo knew he got along well with you and thought both you and the boy would do each other good company. 

He shrugged, seemingly uninterested, but it wasn’t an unpleasant idea. Quite the opposite. “I don’t mind. But you should ask her first.” 

“You think I wouldn’t ask her first?” 

He really has to ask when he does whatever he wants all the time?

Megumi raised a brow at him but Gojo continued as if he hadn’t said anything in the first place. 

“Great! So it’s settled. I’ll tell her to come.” 

“Tell her to…?-” The words died in his mouth as he followed Gojo into the hall and he opened the front door. 

Next thing he knew, you were crashing into him in a tight hug almost throwing you both onto the floor, saying his name in a cheery voice. Throughout the years, you’d grown more comfortable around those closer to you, which included him of course, a side only a few privileged could see. Megumi couldn’t deny that some of Gojo’s exuberant ways (to put it lightly) had rubbed off on you, thankfully not on the same level. He liked this side of you, even though he pretended not to as he pushed you off him (putting nearly no resistance, really) while he chuckled. More open and cheerful, probably more close to how you were supposed to be if what happened to you in the past before he met you hadn’t taken place at all. He still didn’t know much about it. You never mentioned it and he never asked. He thought about asking Gojo someday. 

Right now, he stares at your eyes shining with joy as you stare back at his deep blue ones and lets himself give you a soft smile. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face how warm his cheeks feel.

Life seemed more exciting then. Although you had Gojo around every other day when he wasn’t working, apart from him you were mostly on your own. Now you’d moved in with Megumi and Tsumiki and would go to school together. 

You’d see another side of Megumi you’d been wondering about for a while, how he was in the school environment. It wasn’t much different. You knew he was responsible with his assignments and lessons. When you visited him before, he’d be finishing doing them or reviewing, or he’d completely done them already. Very much like you in that matter; you tended to do schoolwork during free periods or lunch period so you didn’t have to bring it back home with you. You also expected him more to be on his own most of the time, and you weren’t wrong either. And even though you knew it would be like that, you didn’t think it would put a damper on the dynamic of your friendship. 

Somehow, you came up with the idea that he wouldn’t like to be seen around with you.  

And Megumi didn’t understand it. You seemed so excited to be attending school with him, but once you reached the school gates in the morning you’d go your own way and barely see each other for the rest of the day. That was, of course, until he’d end up in the principal’s office after beating up a guy for bothering another third guy that ended out of the skirmish after muttering a shuddering ‘thank you’ and scurrying away. You’ll head out of your classroom and meet with Tsumiki to see if he was okay. 

What surprised you the most was that. The fights. Somehow you’d never witnessed one. It’s not like you wanted to (maybe him neither and had been doing a great job at keeping you from doing so).

He’d managed to put in line every bully of the school or well, mostly all of them. Apparently, some were dumb enough to start picking on you. You seemed like the perfect target. Quiet, reserved, seemed to have a permanent look of worry etched on your face. There was no way you would tell on them. 

It had started subtle enough to not cause immediate worry, but they’d noticed the little details. Like how during dinner you sometimes seemed hungrier than usual. Which wasn’t bad, you were a growing girl after all, and they liked that you ate well. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’d had to skip lunch because some jerk took your money. 

Or when at some point it took you longer to finish with your assignments. Sure, you were middle schoolers and the lessons’ topics grew more complex by year but it usually never took you so long as to keep you closed up in your room for so much time. It was because they made you do their homework. 

At last, Megumi became wary one day when school was done and it was time to go home, but you never came out to meet them at the entrance. You’d skipped afternoon classes and ran home. Just before lunch period, someone had stuck a piece of chewing gum in your hair. When Megumi and Tsumiki got home, they’d froze upon seeing how your once long hair now reached just below your shoulders. Tsumiki had instantly lost it, asking what had made you do that to your beautiful hair but you just brushed her off with a smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. Megumi frowned at the scene.

Suspecting you wouldn’t tell if he asked you directly, he decided to wait a little longer for the cause of your behaviour to reveal itself.

It finally happened one day during free period, when one of your bullies noticed something that piqued their eye. It was a silly keychain Gojo had given you the last time you all went out together the previous weekend. When they asked to have it and you said no, things took a more physical turn.

“Did you say no?” they asked, as if they’d misheard you.

“I won’t give it to you.” You said firmly.

“Is that so? Then I’ll just have to take it.” 

Megumi had just stepped outside of his own classroom to walk over to the vending machines, when he’d spotted the three, two girls and a boy, and you, speaking near his destination. His expression softened without him picking on it. He’d never see you talk to anyone so it was nice to see you make friends. So was he thinking until he noticed how uncomfortable you really looked and he started to hurry over. He was just a tad bit late as they shoved you harshly and you stumbled back to the ground. 

“Give it back!” You’d hurried to stand back up and get your things back from the boy, the one that had pushed you and thrown your bag to the ground, having gotten what he wanted. He shoved you again, you hitting the wall and Megumi swore he was seeing red. 

How long had this been happening? 

When the two girls met Megumi’s death stare they froze in place. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and spun him around before sending a punch square to his face.

“If you dare to touch her again I will break all of your fingers.” He threw another punch but didn’t connect, the boy moving and managing to land a punch around Megumi’s chin. 

Okay, now you were really angry. 

“Don’t touch him!” As Megumi stumbled slightly, you stood up and stepped in, taking the matter into your own hands (better late than never), throwing yourself at the boy to punch him.

Gojo wasn’t surprised to receive a call from the school every other day to hear about how Megumi had gotten into a fight again, but this time it did when he heard you’d been part of it. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Hell, why didn’t you do anything sooner!” Back home after the incident, Gojo couldn’t barely get a word in as Megumi kept doing all the reprimanding. The boy would ask you something, but he didn’t even let you talk either.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone!” You managed to cut him off. 

“Do I seem less worried now?!” 

“Megumi, stop shouting!” Tsumiki chimed in. 

He took a deep breath. He really wasn’t one to shout but the whole ordeal had really gotten to his nerves. “I need out.” He parted from the living room and out the front door, closing it with a loud bang. 

You stood in your place on the couch, looking at your hands on your lap. 

“Megumi’s right in something.” Gojo finally was able to speak, “You could’ve said something. Or dealt with it. Megumi would’ve gladly punched the lights out of him for you, but you did it just fine yourself!” He wasn’t happy that such a thing had been happening for such a long time, but he did sound proud about you beating up the boy. “I thought you’d made me a promise.” 

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Gojo was staring right back at you. He was talking about the promise you made the day he took you in. 

“You’ll be safe here and will have everything you need.” Gojo had told you when you arrived at what would be your new home. “I’ll need you to do just a little thing for me, okay?”

You’d turn your attention away from the room to look back at him, still perched on his arms. Your tiny hands let go of his shoulders to pull up his blindfold and look him in the eyes. “What is it?” you tilted your head curiously. 

“I need you to be brave and strong.” 

“Like you?” 

The young man nodded. “Like me, or more if you can. Think you can do that for me?” 

Seeing the unsure look on your face, Gojo had to bite back a laugh. “I don't expect you to be able to be so by tomorrow morning. Little by little every day. Yeah?”

At his explanation, you nodded, raising your pinky. “Promise.”

“Promise.”

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and you had to bite on it and focus on the sting to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry.” You said when you felt you were in the clear to speak again.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Gojo brushed you off. 

Gojo knew you weren’t a fan of confrontation when it came to only yourself. But when others were involved, that’s when you would step up. That’s why when you’ve accounted for the events of the day he immediately understood what made you finally take action. He just wanted you to learn to stand up for yourself. 

“Megumi’s been out for a while…” Tsumiki trailed off, a worried edge to her tone. 

“I’ll go look for him.” Gojo stood up and followed the way out.

When they were back, the boy went straight to his room. You went right after him, the small first aid kit you’d retrieved from the bathroom in your hands. 

He stared at you when you opened the door and stepped in, but looked away once you sat down next to him at the foot of his bed. He didn’t resist it when you brought a hand up to his face to tilt it in your direction. Still, his gaze was downcast and his expression serious.

“You’re still upset?” 

“What made you think so?” He answered, tone flat. He winced once you brought up a cotton ball to clean the cut on his lip. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Just stings a little.”  Normally, the bullies never stood a chance and Megumi would end unscathed besides the cuts in his knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

You stayed quiet as you finished up. Looking down at your arm, he brought a hand up gently brushing over the bruise forming there from when you hit the wall. He frowned but held back from ranting again. He said something else instead.

“You did get him good though.” 

A small smile started to break on your face at his comment. “I’m sure I could beat you too now.” you teased. 

“Say that again on Saturday.” there was a hint of a smile on his face then too, his hand coming up to brush over a strand of your hair. 

After the issue with those jerks was over, Megumi was rarely seen alone again at school, and so were you. Now you two were inseparable, always seen together outside of the classrooms. Like at that moment, you talking his ear off walking down the school hallways while he listened contentedly to your ramble. And now really no one was dumb enough to bother you again. 

______

Just having begun your last year of middle school, an event happened that shook your lives again. 

Tsumiki fell into a coma, under the effect of some curse.

Nobody had any answers as to how it happened, no trace, no clues. Just one day, she wouldn’t wake up. 

Megumi couldn’t explain it. She was just fine the days before. If he thought too much about it it’d send him spiraling, until he couldn’t think of anything else. He’d go around asking questions and returning home late. At first, you’d decided to give him space but were sure to let him know you were there for him given he needed anything. It got really bad for a while afterwards, shutting you and everyone off every time you offered him help, not letting anyone join him when he visited her. On the worst days, he’ll skip class, or return home to just lock himself in his room. You wouldn’t see him for hours.

“You’re home.” you brightened up one evening. He’d come back relatively earlier than other days. “You’re hungry? Let me heat up your food again.” 

He silently took off his shoes, then disappeared through the hallway. He came back after dropping his bag in his room and changing into more comfortable clothes. Wordlessly, he ate dinner. But it was something. You were fine with it. That was until he put the dishes away and headed out towards his room again.

Before you even caught up to what you were doing, you were following him, hurried footsteps thudding against the floor. You heard the lock clicking in place. You knocked the door, with a little more force than necessary. 

“Megumi? Megumi, could you please open the door?” 

No response. He’d just closed the door, you knew he could hear you. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Megumi.” 

“Is this how things are going to be now?” your voice ultimately broke. “What am I even doing here if I can’t help you?” 

“I miss her too. And no, I won’t say I get it because I’m sure I don’t feel remotely the same way you do.” 

“But I miss you too.” You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. 

He lay there on his bed facing away from the door while he heard your soft cries right on the other side. At some point you had given up on him opening the door because he couldn’t hear you anymore. It was better for you that way. 

He didn’t notice when he’d drifted off to sleep, but when he woke up it was past midnight. His mouth was dry, so he stood up to go get some water, his body aching from the curled up position he’d fallen asleep into. Then he noticed a light outside was still on, just a fine line visible from under his door. You were still up? 

Warily, he approached it and turned the knob. He felt a slight pressure on it as he swung it open slowly. And there you were sitting on the floor in front of his door. You weren’t awake though. 

Megumi hastily called your name and crouched down to get a hold of you before you fell over and could hurt yourself. He brought a hand up to your face, harmonious except for the red under your eyes, the streaks of dry tears on your cheeks, your lashes still moist.

He called your name again when you wouldn’t wake up. He could feel himself begin to tremble around you, one arm around your middle holding you in your sitting position while his other hand sustained your head up tilted in his direction.

Finally beginning to open your eyes after he called your name for the third time, he exhaled in relief. “Megumi? What? What is it?” you sat up almost instantly, sleep draining out at the sight of tears falling from his eyes, your hands finding his face to wipe them away.

A hiccup in his voice kept him from talking right away, “I’m sorry.” His arms wrapped around you and hugged you tightly to him. You didn’t miss a beat to do the same. “I’m right here.” 

“Yes, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here with you.” It was hard for the words to come out over the lump in your throat.

You were both a crumpled mess on the ground, holding on to each other while tears kept falling. But this was better. It was better to be broken together.

Come another day, you went to visit Tsumiki together. You insisted on talking to her, and told Megumi to talk to her too, that she’d like to hear his voice. Hesitantly, when he was alone, he would do so. And sometimes he felt he needed to, like this time, due to your choice in conversation.

“You’ll see, our Megumi has gotten so handsome!” 

His face burned, was it out of embarrassment or for the compliment he didn’t know. 

“Could you not say stuff like that?” 

“Oh that’s right. He was always handsome.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  It was useless to try to stop you though.

“A girl from his class confessed to him this week! She probably did because the year’s almost over and we’ll start high school soon too. But he rejected her though so he’s still single.” 

“So are you.” 

“And who’s fault is that? You and Gojo teamed up to scare all boys away!” 

“I’ve beaten up like half of the male student population of the school. They’re just a bunch of pricks.” 

You sighed, “I wish someone would confess to me before going onto Jujutsu High. Although I’ll get to see Inumaki senpai from time to time.” 

Megumi’s face scrunched up, “You have a crush on Inumaki senpai?” 

“What? He’s sweet. And cute.” 

How would I know? Megumi thought. 

Seeing his expression, you laughed, grabbing onto his hands for a moment too brief, reaching from your seat beside him, “Guess it’ll be just you and me in the end, Megumi.” You smiled brightly at him, then again you turned to Tsumiki, now continuing to speak about something else he wasn’t paying attention to as he was left to stare at you, your eyes sparkling with your excitement yet with a tenderness, always hopeful that one day she’d wake up, if only to tell you to shut up. 

He was doing better. He has you both. He’ll fix what happened to his sister, and he’ll always protect you too. 

For a moment, you looked at Megumi and found a soft smile on his lips as he stared at the scene in front of him. It didn’t leave as his eyes met yours. 

___________ 

This weekend, you didn’t visit Jujutsu High. Someone had gone to the school and declared war against the sorcerers. The day they planned to attack would be today. It was Christmas Eve, and while you were worried for everyone, you still were selfishly upset that Gojo had to leave.

“Shouldn’t we go help them then?” You said while working with the preparations for the evening. “We have training, and we’ll be official students at the school in a couple months.” But instead, you were stuck in the apartment. 

“He’ll be back tonight.” Megumi told you while he helped you. 

It was Gojo, he thought. He was the strongest so there was nothing to worry about. That’s what he told himself yet when evening rolled in and you sat at the table, two seats empty, he couldn’t deny the anxiety gnawing at his insides even though he didn’t voice it. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Megumi called out to you, standing out on the balcony in your pajamas, still waiting. “Get back inside. It’s cold.” 

“He said he’d be here.” He heard your voice waver. 

It was past midnight, and you still refused to go to bed. At some point, you’d started to silently cry, your head lying on Megumi’s shoulder as you sat closely on the living room sofa. He didn’t bring it up, letting you cry until eventually you fell asleep. 

Still early in the morning, Megumi stirred awake when he heard someone close the front door. He moved his neck from side to side with a grimace, having fallen asleep with his head on top of yours, the position a little uncomfortable and making it hurt. Footsteps got closer until Gojo was stopping in front of him. The man took the scene in front of him and scrambled for something to say, especially with Megumi squinting at him with sleepy eyes. 

“You’re late.” the boy spoke up first. 

“Were you worried about me?” He tried to make the mood lighthearted. 

The boy averted his gaze,“What if I was?” 

“So you were?” Said the man, actually a little surprised. Pleasantly surprised.

“You made her cry.” 

At that, Gojo glanced at your sleeping figure, still nuzzled into Megumi. Your cheeks were streaked with dry tears. your under eyes and cheeks slightly flushed. The man’s eyes softened, a pang of guilt to his chest.

Later, when you woke up, you found yourself lying on the couch, a warm blanket over you. Sitting across from you, you saw him. 

“Merry Christmas.” he smiled.

You squealed happily, then remembered you had just woken up and had terrible bed hair. You weren’t a fan of people seeing you like that, so next you left out another scream, mortified, making Gojo laugh. 

“The neighbors are going to put up a noise complaint, y/n.” Megumi said from the kitchen, finishing making breakfast. 

As soon as you were ready, you came back to the living room and tackled Gojo in a hug, a puff of air leaving him because of your rough affection.  

Before he could do anything, you rushed towards the small Christmas tree at the corner of the room. Under it, a few presents directed to Gojo, Tsumiki, Megumi and you. 

“Megumi! You were supposed to wait!” you scolded. 

You picked one up and walked back towards Gojo. 

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.” you smiled brightly at him. He brought up his hands to receive his present, a wobbly smile trying to break through as he looked away from your eyes. 

Your own smile faltered, concerned, “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah. All good.” But his eyes look sad and distant, as if he was torn between this moment and elsewhere. “Thank you, kid.” 

“You’re welcome. I really hope you like it. I dragged Megumi around the mall looking for the per…” He stared at you with a soft expression as you kept talking, your under eyes still red and irritated but all lightened up now. 

Thank you for your tears. 

___________

“You already done? Gojo is coming to get us soon.” 

“C’mon, you know he’s rarely on time.” He heard you answer back.

Megumi opened the door to your room but stopped at the doorway when he saw you. You were already dressed in your new Jujutsu High uniform, the skirt flowing in the air as you turned around. 

“Whatcha think? Wouldn’t these in black suit me better?” Almost your entire closet consisted in black clothes but he had to agree that black really did suit you very well. Although he didn’t mind the rare times you wore another color. He’ll find he’d like it anyway.

“It looks good.” 

“You really think so?” You brightened up, finally taking a good look at him. “You look great though! It matches with your eyes” 

“It’s just a uniform.” He murmured, avoiding your eyes. He didn’t know why you always managed to get him flustered lately.

“We’re gonna be using these for a while.” 

Like you had predicted, Gojo was late, but once he arrived, you picked up your things with a sigh and filed out, throwing one last look at the apartment you’d called home for the last 3 years. It wasn’t a goodbye. Once Tsumiki woke up, she could return and you’ll come back any time you’d like. Megumi was the last to come out, taking in how much more empty the place ended up, then closed the door. 

“At school you have to show respect to your superiors.” Gojo started once you reached Jujutsu High. 

“Just like you do?” Megumi said sarcastically, raising a brow at him. 

“You mean we have to call you Gojo sensei?” 

“That’s right!” He pointed at you animatedly. “You always picked things up fast. Now,” He waited expectantly for you to fill the imaginary blank in the air. 

“Gojo sensei.” Gosh you were so cute. Both you and Megumi were so fun to mess with in such different ways, watching the grumpy boy start to mutter to himself in clear annoyance. 

Meanwhile, Megumi couldn’t believe how gullible you could be sometimes. 

“Y/n, you’re indulging him too much.” 

“C’mon Megumi-chan, try again.” Rang his now officially teacher’s sing song voice. 

“Just once and he’ll stop.” You told him, but clearly you were finding it fun. 

“You think?”

____________

Megumi arrived at Sendai at night. The time didn’t matter to him that much on that occasion because it was a simple mission. He was supposed to find the talisman, then he would go to the hotel and head back to Tokyo tomorrow.  

In front of the Stevenson screen, he stopped.

 Something was off. 

Where did he go? Before you could wonder anything else, you felt him grab hold of one of your arms, turning you around and out of your hiding place behind the underbrush. You made contact with the ground harshly while he pinned your hands above your head and the rest of your body with his on top.

You chuckled, a little out of breath from the impact. “You’re getting good, Megumi.” Sure he was. He only sensed you because you let him. And there you were, smiling up at him like you were having fun and nothing was up. How long had you been trailing him? 

Unable to ignore his presence lingering for maybe too long (not that you could with all of him practically holding you down), and his deep blue eyes like the ocean seemingly pinning you down on its own, you squirmed under him nervously. “Are we going to stay like this all night or are we getting the job done?” 

That seemed to snap him back, releasing you quickly and standing up, busying himself dusting off his uniform. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

You sat up, “I’m on the mission.” 

“Gojo didn’t appoint you for this one. If I remember correctly, he actually told you not to come. How did you even snuck out and travel here?” He sometimes found your stealth an equally good and bad point. That paired with your ability to practically reduce your cursed energy to nothing made it hard to notice you. He didn’t blame whoever you got to overlook you. 

“Gojo sensei.” He helped you up, dusting off your skirt, “I got my own money.” 

“We’re not at school. And he should cut down your allowance.” 

“It’s still school business. And if he wants to save money he should cut down yours.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense! I haven’t done anything!” 

“Exactly! It’s a simple mission and you’re here arguing with me!” You turned away from him and looked over to the screen, “It’s supposed to be right there, isn’t it? I don’t even feel anything.” Megumi frowned at your words, then went ahead to open the screen. You followed, standing on the tip of your toes to take a look over his shoulder. 

There was supposed to be a lock in it but it was gone, so without any obstacle, the door budged open easily to find- 

Nothing. 

His face scrunched up. 

He took out his phone. Gojo didn’t take long to pick up. “There’s nothing here.” He muttered out. When he turned slightly to look at you he opened his mouth again, and you feared he would rat you out. And you were right to do so because that’s what he planned to do. You shook your head and clasped your hands together pleading with him. 

You couldn’t hear what Gojo said but Megumi didn’t find it funny, repeating he was going to punch him. Then Gojo hung up. You smiled brightly at him for not telling on you and Megumi scolded himself for giving in to you. He sighed. 

“Can’t go home until I find it.” He turned to start to look around. 

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” 

“It’s dark. It could be anywhere around the school and I can’t exactly feel anything near us. Let’s head over to the hotel and come back early tomorrow.”

You were right. It was dark and if you couldn’t even sense it, it meant it would be more troublesome. He began to make his way back, bringing his phone up to call Ijichi-san this time. “Absolutely not. You’re staying back tomorrow.” 

“What? No! I thought we were good now! You know I’m helpful.” You protested. 

Sure, he knew you were more than helpful, but if Gojo had been opposed to you joining it was for a reason. “I didn’t tell on you, but Ijichi-san will unless you do as told.” 

“Fine.” Now you were frowning. Megumi didn’t like it when you got mad, much less if you got mad at him. But he was doing the right thing, right? Or the closest thing to it. 

When you got to the hotel, you both got ready for bed. Not a word was said. The bed in his room was spacious enough for two so you didn’t see a reason to ask for another room (plus you didn’t want Gojo on you if he happened to check your account, and you didn’t have enough cash). You laid down, facing away from him. 

“Good night.” He mumbled, staring at your back. No answer. He waited patiently.

You squirmed in bed for a few minutes, until you finally gave in. Turning around, you placed a kiss on his cheek, then mumbled, “Good night.” 

A smile broke on his face. He knew you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, and you didn’t like to go to bed while still being in a bad mood. You probably hated him sometimes for it. 

He should’ve known better. 

When he woke up, slowly opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the empty space beside him. That made him shoot up immediately. There was no way. No way did you sneak out while he was asleep. That was foul play. If there was a next time you acted this stubborn (unfortunately he was sure this wouldn’t be the last time), he would use Gama to restrain you the moment he saw you if necessary. He hurried to get ready and head out after you. 

It's not until the afternoon when Megumi finds you, coming to a stop behind a fence while it looks like some sort of competition’s about to start on the field. Just for a moment, he’s able to blend both of you in with your surroundings. He imagines he’s there to meet with you, you’re just like any other girl at this normal school on a normal day. It’s a little easier this time since you’re not wearing the Jujutsu High uniform, instead you don a simple, practical outfit (since you’re on a mission and practically trespassing. No need for extra attention.) but that nonetheless suits you very well. Your hair, now long again, flows softly behind you with the light breeze like a soft, dark veil. There’s a hair tie on your wrist for later when you start to feel like it gets on the way but for now he enjoys your serene look.

Of course, you notice him right away and smile innocently at him. He stares for a little longer, your smile drowning him down further but he forces himself out back to reality. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“I’m older than you. You can’t be ordering me around.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You brought up that lame excuse any chance you got. It was just an eleven day difference. 

“It’s not too late to go back and avoid making this bigger than it is.” 

You brushed him off, “Focus.” 

Like that’s not what he’d been trying to do this whole time.

You looked ahead towards the field, “There’s cursed energy shooting from all directions. That thing’s sure around here.” 

“I can tell that much.” He stared at you, not being able to push down his worry. “How long have you been using your technique?” 

“Since I got here this morning.” You brought your index to your chin in thought, “Which makes it... Past 7 hours?” 

“Go back to the hotel and rest until I’m done here.” 

“Relax, I can hold it up for a little longer.” 

Before he could go on ranting about how this wasn’t necessary and how he’d have to deal with your headache too, or worse, your body could give up on you leaving you all crumpled on the floor, chants of someone’s name brought your attention back to the field. Just in time to see a pink haired boy send a heavy metal ball flying through the air as if pitching a baseball , caving the edge of the soccer goal and lodging there. 

“That was insane. He could kill someone with that.” You turned to Megumi, seeing him equally impressed. Then you gasped, swaying a little in place before Megumi brought his hands up to stabilize you. 

“What is it?” 

“I’m fine I just- I felt something stronger. Coming closer.” Your head began to hurt. 

“I told you to drop it.” He gruffed. Then he heard hurried steps behind you. Megumi turned just in time to see the boy from earlier zoom past him and he froze. An immense wave of curse energy stood out from the rest all of a sudden, there and then gone. 

The boy. 

“Go after him!” You closed your hands around the wire fence. 

“Stay here.” He said firmly before doing so, calling Ijichi-san so he could stay with you. 

You turned your attention back towards the building.

 What is it they had in this place? 

You had some time to rest as you waited for Megumi, but not a call came in. 

It’s been almost three hours since he left. 

Something was off. If that boy had anything to do with the cursed object they had to retrieve, Megumi would’ve been done with it soon enough. But the curse energy presence that irradiated from him was so strong. There was no way you were wrong. 

Unless you somehow were. 

“Do you feel that?” You said to Ijichi-san, pushing away from your leaning position against the side of the car. “There’s a curse-. No. More.” 

His worried look mirrored yours but you’d already ignored too many instructions. “You can’t go in there.” 

But what was it to ignore one more? 

“I’m sorry Ijichi-san.” You said before running towards the building. 

Megumi’s phone vibrated on his hand as he ran alongside Itadori towards the school. You both had only picked up a trace. The curse object was still at the school in the hands of a couple students that didn’t know what they were dealing with. If they had already broken its weakened seal, they were as good as dead.

“Ijichi-san.” He answered between hurried breaths. , “Is y/n okay?”

“I’m sorry, Fushiguro-kun.” He paused and Megumi felt fear start to bubble up inside him. “She went inside the school.”  

“We’re on our way.” With that the call ended, “We need to hurry.” He told the boy as he kept pushing his legs to go faster, “Fuck!” 

Inside the school, you managed to grab hold of a terrified girl and drag her away from a curse’s clutches. You’d lost sight of the boy that was with her amidst all the chaos. 

“Hey, hey, I’ll need you to breathe, okay? I’ll get us out of here alive but I need you to tell me where that thing you were keeping is.” You whispered to her, grabbing onto her shoulders. You could hear the curse spirit creeping and growling just on the other side of the wall that was hiding you from view. 

There was something behind you. You turn to see the boy, a curse trying to swallow him. Then something else just next to you, and next thing you knew it was grabbing you. The girl screamed as another took hold of her. There were too many. It seemed as if they were springing out of nowhere.  

Using your technique, you started to drain its cursed energy just until you were able to reach for your daggers. You stabbed it right in its middle and it let you go, enabling you to reach for the rest of your weapons and hit it until it was exorcised. You took down another using just the new boost of curse energy coursing through your body.

You looked for the curse at the end of the hall, the one that had grabbed hold of the boy and the girl. You couldn’t risk using your daggers, could you? If you did so and landed a hit, it would be a powerful one, but if you missed and hit one of the students… No way.

You felt something familiar then. 

Megumi.

“I know you’re mad but we have a bigger problem right now.” 

“You’re so hearing it later.” 

What could you do? Megumi was just as lost as you. That thing was trying to swallow those two along with the cursed object. If that happened they really were screwed. 

The sound of glass breaking made you both turn towards the window, the pink haired boy jumping in. 

“Itadori!” 

“What the hell is he doing here?!” 

Just like his strength demonstration earlier in the day, with a powerful punch, he got the cursed spirit to release the two students. 

That shut you up. “Well, that does it.” 

Megumi’s divine dogs took care of the rest. 

“Apparently there’s not enough stubborn people around.” He glared at you as he walked over to the boy named Itadori. “Good job.” 

“Good job to you too.” you cooed at the two doggies while they ate the curse and you retrieved your daggers.

You heard the boy laugh, “Who’s she? And what are those?” 

“Someone who's not supposed to be here.” you rolled your eyes. “Those are my shikigami. You can see them?” Itadori nodded. 

“The girl too.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh too then. Megumi had to bite back a smile at the sound. He was still mad at you. “Just so you know I’m entirely human.” 

“Oh.” 

Megumi proceeded to explain to a strangely calm Itadori a little about the curse spirits. You turned around having collected the last of your daggers, and just as Itadori was about to hand over the cursed object to Megumi, its unnerving pressure starting to make your head hurt and ears ring, you perceived another thing. 

“We have to get out of here fast!” You rushed over, all eyes on you and you barely had time to give Megumi a nudge before he looked up and decided what his next move would be. 

“Go!” His divine dogs were helping you and Itadori move the other two away in a beat, letting the curse crash down on him. 

“Fushiguro!” “Megumi!” Both of you cried out. You tried to stand up but stumbled. The constant turning on and off of your technique had worn you down, adding all the time you’d used it today. The couple of hours you took to rest weren’t nearly enough. 

That thing threw Megumi against the wall, the impact knocking the air out of him. You saw blood. The shikigami were released. This was bad. You couldn’t give in now.

“You okay?” Itadori eyed you worrily. 

“I’m fine, I need to help Megumi. Stay here.” 

“I’m helping t-” 

“Please. You’ve done enough. I’ll worry about you too.” You risked a smile, fighting over your agitation, as if to tell him, 

I’ll be fine.

“I’ll see you later. Stay back!” And you hurried after them. Jumping out of the hole that thing had made through the wall, you landed on top of it, one dagger in each hand digging into its body. It wailed and tried to shake you off. It succeeded, but you quickly released more of your daggers and landed a couple more hits before making contact with the ground.

No, no, no, no. Megumi’s head was throbbing and he couldn’t focus. His hopes of you finally listening to him vanished when he saw you jumping out at the cursed spirit. You did manage to hurt him before it sent you flying, rolling over the floor.

“Y/n!”

“I’m okay!” you choked out in pain. 

“Get away!” He knew there was panic in his voice. His throat hurt with it. He’s barely keeping it together now when Itadori follows through where you came from and attacks the cursed spirit. Why does no one listen to him? 

Megumi warns him but can’t keep him from doing the stupidest thing. He swallows the cursed object. 

Ew. 

You gag. 

He couldn’t be serious. 

You both stare in a mix of disbelief, anticipation and dread (and a little disgust to be honest). 

Either the boy dies from swallowing that poison, or- 

His mind stops racing with the possible outcomes and their consequences as he watches the curse get torn to pieces. 

Itadori’s body is now the vessel of the king of curses, Ryōmen Sukuna. 

He watches and listens in horror to its speech. Meanwhile, you were silently moving towards it. Its back is facing you, and like most seems totally unaware of your presence. The chances of dying have always been high, even more so today. So you’ll take one more chance. Your eyes meet his for just one second. You always loved his eyes. If this goes wrong and you really end up dying tonight, you hope to at least give Megumi an opening to escape and live.  

Megumi’s scream gets stuck in his throat and he can’t do anything as your hand makes contact with what once was Itadori’s body.

Your vision is filled by pure, unadulterated darkness. Screams in fear and laments fill your head. Your skin burns and your blood boils. It’s like a lightning strike, as bright as the white beam of cursed energy that crackles at the point of contact. The shock is so great it sends you out flying once again. But this time you don’t say anything, your body’s limp on the floor.

All there’s left is white noise. 

Sukuna turns towards you. It expects to be mad but instead finds itself perplexed that you even dared to touch it. Impressed, even. Though you barely made a mark on it, just a numb stinging where your hand had been. Before something else can happen, it finds itself stumbling backwards, the rightful owner of the body taking over.

“Huh? Fushiguro?”, Itadori brings a hand up to his head, “Where’s um-” He thinks of the name he’d heard Megumi say before, “Wh-Where’s y/n?” When he turns and spots you lying on the ground, unmoving, he’s scared. “Oh god-” He doesn’t get to take a step before Megumi’s yelling at him. 

“Don’t move!” His voice breaks at the end. His body is trembling out of anger, fear, he doesn’t know, but still takes his stance. “You’re no longer human. Under jujutsu regulation, Yūji Itadori, I will now exorcise you as a curse!” 

________

It had been 5 days since the incident at Yūji’s school, and Megumi found himself now at your bedside at the hospital.

You still hadn’t woken up.

That night while he was raking his scattered brain for what decision to make, Gojo had arrived. He’d run over to you then, dropping to his knees. He could barely see anything because of the tears blurring his vision. He tried to control his ragged breathing while he checked for your pulse. A heavy gasp of relief left him when he found it, a little weak but there nonetheless. His hands were on your face as his eyes tried to look everywhere at once to guess how bad you’d been hurt. There was a trickle of blood running down your nose, bruises at the side of your head, but the most noticeable injury was on your left arm, starting from your hand. There were open gashes on your palm as if it had been sliced with a knife, and from there up to your elbow, crooked lines that looked like burns. 

When Gojo had finished evaluating the situation with Itadori/Sukuna, Megumi turned to them to find his teacher holding onto the unconscious boy. Apparently Itadori could control Sukuna, so his teacher had asked him what they should do. Yūji seemed nice. Hell, he’d done such a stupid thing looking to save them. So he’d ask Gojo if he could save him. 

He’d broken down after. Repeating that it was his fault you’d been hurt, that he should’ve given you out the night before. He’d thought Gojo would be more upset. And he was very worried, but he’d told Megumi she’d made her choice, that while fighting curses they wouldn’t always be together and that he couldn’t protect her all the time. It’s not like she’d allow it either. And she was also very strong and could hold her own. If they were lucky you’ll push through one more time. 

He just couldn’t resist you, could he? 

So he’d tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault alone. It was yours for what you did to him. 

They’d tended to him quickly enough. He’d hit his head pretty hard, and had come out with several bruises and cuts all over his body and face. Rest was recommended but he would not stay away from you. 

On your second day at the hospital, you’d gotten a high fever. For a moment you’d gained a little consciousness but he wasn’t sure if that’d been for the better or worse. The scene of your sweaty body twisting in what seemed like agony, groaning and moaning in pain had only shook him more. That whole night you’d been restless with what seemed like nightmares. You’d scream, and he’d rush back into the room, having had to step out earlier. He’d clasped your hand, lost as to what else to do but repeating over and over that you were fine and he was right there with you. It lasted a little more until it was finally over. 

Suddenly he’d felt that tingly sensation from when your cursed technique was active. He recognized it. You’d explained it to him. You could activate it without means to “steal” the cursed energy, but to feel it, which took you little to no effort or strain, so it didn’t affect you or the other party at all. It felt like goosebumps all over his body. It wasn’t unpleasant. Just a little weird. You’d said to him that feeling his calmed you down. He stayed the entire night there with you, watching your now peaceful features, at your hand linked with his, the subtle white glow radiating from them giving him a little hope. 

Now, he thought about your visits to Tsumiki. 

“Tsumikiii! We’re here!”

“Keep it down!” He’d scold.

“C’mon, don’t be rude. Say hi.” 

If he talked to you like that, wouldn’t it make it more final? Was he accepting the idea of you staying like that for who knows how long?

He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. 

For a while he’d feared that maybe there was a curse lurking around him. It was starting to feel more real with each day it passed. 

Please not you too. 

“Hey,” his own voice caught him off guard. It sounded hoarse, his throat dry. “You can hear me, right?” 

“The other day, you knew it was me. You did that thing.” He rambled. “There’s no other reason. So you were right.” He let out a wet chuckle. “Maybe Tsumiki might be able to hear us. Well, mostly you. You’re the one that talks more.” 

“You’re going to wake up soon, right?” 

He waited for another sign. 

Sighing, he brushed the wetness from his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform after minutes passed without anything. He stood up. He had to go meet with Gojo and Yūji. 

Before stepping away, he leaned over to leave a kiss at the crown of your head. “I’ll be right back.” He whispered before breaking away. 

They got the call right before Yūji headed out to pack his stuff. 

“It’s y/n.” A smile like Gojo had ever seen took over Megumi’s face, “She’s awake.” 

“Really? That’s great!” The pink haired boy cheered. He’d also been worrying about what happened with you, feeling guilty for it. And you’d tried to protect him. The day he’d gone to see you at the hospital he’d seen how bad you’d gotten for a moment and the worry on Megumi’s face. You two seemed really close and it was clear you cared deeply for each other, recalling back seeing you while cursed spirit fighting.

Gojo’s soft smile was another sight. 

Yet he had to ruin it. 

“Did you kiss our little y/n-chan?” 

“What?!” The color coming up from Megumi’s neck up to his ears was a nice change to the ghostly pale of the last few days, alive with new light. So was the scandalous yet funny look on his face. “How did you-”

“You did?!” 

When you heard footsteps outside your door you turned towards it. 

The first to approach you was Gojo, ruffling your hair affectionately. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid.” 

What was he going to do with you?

You pulled his blindfold down. You were probably the only person able to get away with that. “Happy to see you too.” 

“You won’t be so happy soon.” At that you grimaced. You knew you wouldn’t get out of this unscathed. 

You then noticed Megumi standing near the doorway and your smile grew brighter if that was possible. Megumi was doing no better than you. In fact, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he hug you? Should he yell at you? 

Did you kiss her?

The teasing words from Gojo earlier got to him again somehow and he felt his face grow hot. You stared a little astounded at his blushing face. 

Damn. He must be really angry. 

“Hey.”  You settled with, suddenly shy.

Another voice called for you, getting you to look away, “Y/n!” 

“Itadori?” You stared at him, surprised, “How did you-?” You looked around for an explanation.

“Oh, that guy? It’s okay. I got it under control.” 

“So it’s still…?” 

“Yeah. It’s really annoying though. It just called me annoying. And said that it’s glad to see you again.” 

“Is it really?” You said with a grimace. That was… something. “How should I take that?” 

“I’d say it’s quite disconcerting.” Megumi muttered, finally speaking up.

“It says you have guts daring to touch it. It’s thinking whether to kill you or not the next time it gets a chance.” Yūji opened his eyes comically wide then frowned. “No you won’t. There will be no next time.” 

You scoffed, “I’m surprised it’s thinking about it.” 

“It says you’re funny.” 

“This is quite an unsettling conversation .” You chuckled, then continued, something else nagging at you,“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” you worried. 

“Not really. It felt funny where you touched me, and it was red for a while but now it’s gone.” He pushed down one sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal his shoulder. True to his word, there was no sign of injury. Then he turned to you again, his eyes downcast, looking at your arm, “I’m sorry about your arm though.” 

“Oh I’m fine.” You lifted your arm just a tad bit. You were still a little stiff and it hurt a little. It’ll probably scar but you were lucky it hadn’t been ripped off clean. 

“Okay, we should let the girl rest before we head off.”  Gojo dismissed the group. 

“Oh, that’s right! I’m coming with you guys!” Itadori told you before he waved goodbye and exited the room, Gojo following him but lagging seeing that Megumi didn’t move. 

“Don’t be too hard on her if you’re staying, Megumi.” And with that he was out too.

You looked down at your lap, entertaining yourself tracing a finger over the new scars on your left arm.

You felt his arms wrap around you delicately, afraid he might hurt you. He rested his head on top of yours. Your eyes widened, bringing a hand up tentatively to hold onto him. “Welcome back.” 

He could wait a little longer to scold you. 

You laughed, and pulled away. Lifting both your hands to cup his cheeks, your soft gaze met his eyes. You got to see them again after all.

 “I love your eyes.” 

He pouted. “I know. You’ve told me like, a thousand times.” Although it wasn’t the first time you did that, he had to break eye contact for a moment, entertaining himself looking at the monitor beside your bed. Your heartbeat was a little fast. That was good, he thought. Nothing like that night on the rooftop.

____________

Around eleven in the a.m., Megumi was on his way to the medical wing of Jujutsu High to go see you. He’d fallen asleep heavy as a rock for once in his own bedroom. He was dressed in the school’s uniform. Soon, Itadori, Gojo and him would head out to pick up the new, fourth first year student. 

He knocked on the door. 

“Just a minute!” you answered, and he heard you groan. 

“What are you doing?”  His voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door. 

At your lack of answer, he pushed open the door. There you were, up in the middle of the room with your back towards him. And struggling to put on your tee shirt. He stopped. 

“Megumi what the hell?!” 

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Not that you could see, but his eyes grew wider. Stuttering in place, he still laughed nervously, watching how your head was stuck inside the shirt. For one point it was good, for your face was burning in embarrassment .“Do you need help?” 

“No! Just wait outside or-or turn around!” Finally, your face was out through the hole of the shirt, yet you held back another groan trying to lift your arm.

“I really can’t see anything. Let me help you.” It was true. You had bandages around your middle, your chest almost entirely covered.  He walked the short distance between you and stepped right behind you. Megumi couldn’t help but stare at the red, purples and blues on your skin, some of the bruises peeking out of the bandages. Delicately, he brought his hand up to help put your arms through your shirt. You made a little noise of complaint as he lifted your left arm. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You sighed. His fingers hovered over your skin as he gently pulled the fabric in place and then when he brought his hands up again to untuck your damp hair out of it. “Thank you.” 

He nodded when you turned around to face him. “Does it hurt a lot?” He worried.

You shook your head “Only bothers me when I try to raise it up.” 

“Why didn’t you have someone help you out?” 

“I just wanted to shower.”  You countered. “Was five days out. I totally needed one.” You added with a grimace. 

At that Megumi chuckled. You smiled at him, then noticed his attire, “Do you have something to do today? I thought you still had to rest.” 

“We’re just picking up the other first year.” 

“That was today? Why didn’t you say so? Now I have to get out of this thing and put on the uniform.” 

“You’re staying here.” Megumi stated. 

“What? But I want to greet her! And-And walking would do me good.” 

“You’ll greet her once we get here. You can walk around campus. Either that or I’ll lock you up, and you’ll have to settle on going around in circles in this room.” He threatened. 

“Are you still mad? It’s not even cursed fighting this time. We’re just picking her up.”  

“Yeah, like with the talisman.” He said sarcastically, then sighed. “I’m not mad just- Would you listen to me this time?” He practically pleaded, looking you in the eye. 

You wondered if he looked at you like that on purpose. “Fine.” you gave in. “Guess you’re right this time.” 

“You really mean it? You’re not sneaking out of here?”

You chuckled, “Fine, fine! I’m really staying.” You held your pinky up, and he linked his with yours. “Promise.” 

Megumi smiled wide this time, eyes crinkling at the corners. You sat on the bed for a little while longer and Megumi helped you brush your hair. 

The time to go came soon enough with Itadori looking for him, waving at you from the doorway. 

“And by the way, I was right both times.” He said to you before turning to leave.

 

Kugisaki Nobara had a strong personality, unafraid of giving a piece of her mind. Both Yūji and Megumi found out fairly soon, falling under her judgment. But she was good and handled herself well while curse fighting. Just the right amount of crazy. Maybe a little more too. 

When they were done with her test, and she and Yūji argued over where to go for dinner, Megumi got back to thinking about you and wondered what you were doing. 

“Fushiguro!”  He was snapped back to the present by her. “What do you think?”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying.” 

“He’s probably thinking about y/n.” Yūji didn’t really mean for it to sound like teasing but it was done. Fushiguro glared at him. 

“Oh. Who’s that?” Nobara asked curiously, turning to look at Megumi now. 

“She’s a first year too.” 

 “There’s another one? And she’s a girl? Oh thank God!” 

“That sounded a little too happy.” Yūji muttered. 

“Why did she leave me here with just you two?” 

“You’re being really mean, you know?” 

“She stayed back resting. Got injured on a mission.” Megumi explained. 

“But she’s alright now. She’s pretty great.” Yūji chimed in excitedly. 

“And she’s your girlfriend?” 

“What? No!” Megumi denied shaking his head. The color on his cheeks didn’t help him much though.

“But you said you kissed her yesterday?” Itadori asked more than stated, confused. “Isn’t that right, Gojo sensei?” He turned towards the man, walking a little ahead to give the kids space but still at earshot.

“Just like Sleeping Beauty.” 

“It really was! She finally woke up after it!” Itadori chuckled. 

Megumi tried to get a word in. Those two really were blowing things out of proportion.

“You kissed her while she was unconscious? You perv!” The girl right about smacked him. 

“I didn’t!” The poor boy rubbed his upset cheek. He ducked his head. Thanks to those guys, they’d called the attention of a few passersby. “I just kissed her head! I told you that!” He hissed. 

“Oh. Right.” 

When they finally got back to campus, they spotted you in the school garden, sitting under the same tree where you met Megumi for the first time. You heard Itadori’s cheery voice call you and turned to see him coming with Nobara by his side, following Gojo. Then your eyes met Megumi’s, who kept walking away. He looked upset. You stood up, brushing the dirt off your clothes.

“Kugisaki Nobara, this is y/l/n y/n. Y/l/n y/n, this is Kugisaki Nobara.” Gojo went ahead with his flashy introduction, making you giggle. “I’ll let you kids get to know each other.” He ruffled your hair playfully before waving to the other two and leaving. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You smiled at her. 

“I so wanted to meet you too.” She returned the smile. You already liked her. And she was pretty too, you noticed looking at her pale skin, light brown eyes and her brown hair styled in a bob. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go pick you up.” You said, not being able to help feeling self conscious under her stare, that went up and down and back up to your arm. You tucked your arms behind you. 

“It’s okay. The boys told me about what happened.”  She brushed you off understandingly. “They actually talked a lot about you.” 

“They did?” You looked at Yūji who immediately straightened up.

“Just nice things! It’s not like there are bad things, is it? Plus I just met you a few days ago.” Itadori said sheepishly. You smiled.

“And Fushiguro didn’t lie either. You’re so pretty! Your hair! Can I touch it?” 

“Megumi?” you felt your heartbeat take a quicker rhythm as your face started to warm up. “Oh, sure…”  You answered her question and she brushed her hands gently through it. “By the way, is Megumi okay?” 

Nobara halted.

“We probably teased him too much.” The boy grimaced, exchanging a look with Nobara.

“Is that it? Then he’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure them. “I do it all the time. And Gojo- Gojo sensei too. He’ll just need to get used to it. It’s sure gonna be even more lively around here.” You smiled. 

That evening, a furry visitor came into your room.

“Oh hello, you handsome.” You cooed at Kuro, crouching down to scratch the back of its ears as it wagged its tail happily. There was a small bag hanging from its collar. “Whatcha got there?” 

You took the bag and looked inside to find a small box. When you opened it, you saw they were sweets. You smiled, setting it aside to pet the dog, ruffling the hair around its head. “Well thank you. You know where Megumi is?” 

Megumi smiled before pushing himself from the wall and entering the room. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” you looked up, smiling back. 

“I thought I’d bring you something since you couldn’t come with us.” Megumi explained, bringing a hand up to his neck. He seemed suddenly nervous about something. 

“How’d it go with Yūji and Nobara?” 

“They’re fine. Gojo got their hopes up about going sightseeing and we ended up dealing with a cursed spirit.” You chuckled at that.

“They seem like they’re very good.” You agreed, nodding. “We chatted for a while…” You trailed off seeing he was still not looking at you. “Are you okay?” You stood up, Kuro looking to get back your attention.

That finally made him turn to look at you, worried gaze looking for his.

Megumi felt his skin get warmer, hands getting clammy. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he was able to start talking, “Listen, about the kiss-It wasn’t like that-”

“Kiss? Wh-What kiss?” 

Oh. 

He fucked up. 

Megumi was sure that those two would somehow bring it up to you too. He thought you were just going to pretend like you didn’t know. Turns out you didn’t know at all and he’d made it sound like there was something worth mentioning in the first place. 

“You kissed someone? Who?” You spoke up after minutes passed in silence. Saying that felt weird, but not good weird. It was only because Megumi had never mentioned anyone. That was the only reason. Or so you told yourself. 

“You. I mean I didn’t-  Gosh this is Gojo’s fault.” Frustratedly, Megumi brushed his hands over his face. 

A kiss, a kiss, a kiss. Since yesterday that’s all he’s been able to think about. 

Meanwhile you stared at him frozen and wide eyed, internally panicking. “You kissed me? When- What the fuck. Megumi, I need you to tell me what are you talking about.” 

“I didn’t kiss you like that. It was just a kiss to your head.” He breathed out a sigh.

“Oh.” 

Then to his surprise, you started laughing. “Is that why you were all moody earlier?” 

“I wasn’t moody.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze, cheeks burning. 

“You wanted to?” 

“What?” His voice came out a beat  late, weaker than intended. 

“To kiss me. Did you want to?” You asked again, taking advantage of whatever had possessed you at that moment, half teasing half serious. What were you even asking? And why? 

Megumi met your eyes again. He couldn’t tell if you were actually serious. Then he dared to look at your lips. 

He shook his head. “Not like that.” 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What do you mean?” 

“If I wanted to kiss someone I wouldn’t do it while they’re unconscious. Especially if it were for the first time and we weren’t even together.”  

You smiled softly, nodding. 

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You walked over to him. Cupping his face, he leaned down for you to place a kiss at the crown of his head just like he’d done so.  “There.” You looked at him, eyes shining. He was sure his eyes were looking at you in the same way. “Now let’s eat up those sweets.” 

________

For the next week, you’re not able to train with the other first years. Instead, you’re left to do exercises to help you recover. Megumi is there to help you when he’s done with his own training. But when you’re back, you’re able to see your classmates' abilities. As you already knew, Yuuji is stupidly, naturally strong. He’s not even using cursed energy yet. 

He’s your first opponent. 

“I’m not sure I want to hit you…”  Itadori says unsure as he comes to stand in front of you. “Are you sure you’re fine?” 

“You should worry about yourself, Itadori.” Megumi comments, a small smile threatening to take over his features when you turn to look at him with a playful grin of your own. 

“What?” That puts Itadori on alert. Next thing he knows is you’re going at him, and he manages to lift his arms just in time to cover his face. “Whoah!” 

Nobara explains to you her cursed technique since you weren’t there to watch her during her test. Since yours is trickier to show, you wait to show her until the end, when you’re all done sparring each other. 

Finally it’s your turn to face Megumi. The other two watch as you try to land a hit on each other. You look so comfortable, used to each other’s movements. It’s more like you’re dancing instead of trying to fight each other, so in sync. At last, you manage to swiftly swipe Megumi off his feet and he lands on his back. He lets out a groan as you get on top of him to pin him down, laughter bubbling up your throat. He looks up at you and grins before he frees himself and turns you both around. You let out a squeal now that your back hits the ground. It’s his turn to laugh, both of your chests heaving.

Megumi stares at your face, your eyes bright staring up at him, face flushed and slightly sweaty because of all the time you’ve been training, very much like he is (his hair’s falling down over his forehead at this point). You’re just strikingly beautiful to him. And he finds that he really wants to kiss you now. The thought paralyzes him. He knows his guard is down, and he’s begging inside for you to move before he’s overcome by whatever is shifting inside of him, gives and leans in. 

The other two share a look. 

It kinda feels wrong to be watching you two. 

But the thought comes and goes as they quickly turn again to the scene in front of them, not wanting to miss anything.  (They’re barely breathing in anticipation). 

Then you’re saying something. Megumi can’t hear anything though. His eyes trailed down to your lips the moment they moved and he can’t seem to stop from shamelessly staring. 

“Megumi?” you repeat. 

“Hmm?” Just a noise is all he’s able to let out to let you know he’s listening now. 

“I asked if it’s okay for you to help me show Kugisaki my technique.” 

He’s back in the gym where they’re practicing. 

“Yes.” He nods, staring back at your eyes. He doesn’t move.  

“Maybe let me go?” You chuckle nervously.

Megumi’s cheeks burn by having to be called out and he quickly nods, moving to help you into a sitting position and brushing any possible dirt off you before kneeling in front of you. 

You call Nobara and Itadori over. They’re sporting very disappointed expressions that you’re totally oblivious of. That’s until you mention what you’re about to do and they forget all about the scene they’d just witnessed, all excited. Yuji hadn’t gotten to see what your technique was yet. 

“It’s not really that exciting.” You tell them, suddenly bashful for the attention before turning to Megumi. 

He nods, letting you know he’s ready. You focus, the bright flow of cursed energy flowing through Megumi’s body coming to your vision. You avoid the points where it concentrates the most since it’s just for a quick demonstration. You settle on bringing a hand up to the right side of his chest, gently but firm. 

Megumi’s heart pounds on his chest as he watches you intently, just like the other two do as if he’s too witnessing it for the first time. There’s grey in your eyes now, the dark brown replaced briefly for silver, and white shiny light begins to glow from under your hand. He feels the fuzzy feeling again. You hear someone gasp besides yourself, and are reminded to stop before you overdo it. 

“Holy shit, y/n, you’re glowing!” The difference from this to someone who's using cursed energy defensively to protect their body, is that there’s no cursed energy surrounding you and the light’s coming from within you still. You don’t react, unable to concentrate on anything but Megumi and what you’re doing.

You smile at the boy before placing your hand to his chest again, reverting what you did. When you stop, the giddy sensation leaves him with your touch. Then you’re back to normal. 

“Are you okay?” You always make sure he is. He nods, not missing the touch of your fingertips for long as you bring your hand up to his cheek now. 

“That was so cool. Your eyes-!” Nobara starts but cuts herself off. 

“Me next! Me next!” Yuuji bounces excitedly. Megumi gets hold of your hands. You look at him and before you turn to Yuuji again to gently explain why you have to decline his wish, Megumi beats you to it. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

The pink haired boy pouts, “Why not?” 

“You don’t have control of your cursed energy yet. It might hurt you. And even then, y/n might get in touch with Sukuna’s again.” 

You can only nod, Megumi taking the words out of your mouth. Itadori stares down at your arm, and so do you before taking it out of Megumi’s hold and hiding it away. The boy frowns at your action. 

“Oh. right.” Yuji nods quickly in understanding. 

“Well,” you hurry to break away the uncomfortable atmosphere of being the center of attention for too long, “We’re done for today, right? Let’s go grab some drinks”.

__________

It was a free day, and you’d all made plans to go shopping. Well, Nobara wanted to go shopping, Itadori wanted to go to the movies and Megumi was just tagging along. You didn’t mind shopping and actually wanted to buy a couple things. Also you wanted to spend some time with your friends just hanging out for a change. 

“So, is Gojo sensei like your dad or something?”  Itadori asked. You didn’t know what brought this topic of conversation. 

“Please do not say that in front of him.” Somewhere in Japan, Gojo sneezed. 

“Why not? He’s awesome!” 

“Definitely don’t say that in front of him either.” 

“I mean, yeah. I guess.” you spoke fondly, “He’s been taking care of me- of us since we’re little.” But what would he think if he heard you say something like this? 

When you got to the shopping district, you were dragged from store to store, both boys following you and chatting between themselves. 

“What about this one?” Nobara showed you another outfit. You nodded. She had a keen fashion sense. And a lot of bags already, apart from the ones the boys were holding, seating at the front while they waited. “You’re not trying on anything?” She wondered. 

“Oh, no.” you dismissed her, “I already got some stuff.” 

You’d bought a couple of sunglasses and some arm sleeves. It was getting hot to keep wearing long sleeve shirts all the time to hide your scars. 

“But I’m talking about clothes.” Nobara whined. “If you don’t buy some I’ll have to give you some of what I got. And I don’t want to.” 

You snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re my style either.” 

Then, she spotted something behind you. “That’s perfect!” 

“What is it?” you smiled at her eagerness, turning to follow her line of sight. It was a very pretty black midi dress. Sleeveless, heart shaped neckline, layered skirt that bunched up nicely. 

“You have to try it on!” She practically shoved the dress into your hands and pulled you along with her towards the fitting rooms. 

“What am I even gonna use it for? Curse fighting?” 

“Don’t be silly. You can use it whenever. Like, next time we hang out.”

You hadn’t worn a dress in so long, probably since you were little and Gojo bought you clothes after taking you in. You remembered that day. It was one of your favorites. He’d brought Megumi and Tsumiki too. 

As she shoved you inside the small room and was making her way to another herself, she stopped at the door. At that moment, the little devil on her shoulder popped up. 

Megumi’s phone vibrated. Kugisaki was calling.

He picked it up. 

“What is it?” 

“We need your opinion on something. Wait outside the fitting rooms.” 

“You need both of us…?” 

“Just you is okay.” 

She hung up. 

“Hold this.” He threw more bags Itadori’s way, the poor boy practically buried in his seat on them. 

“Where are you going!” 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. It really was a perfect dress. Turning slightly from side to side, you watched the skirt move lightly. You opened the door to show Nobara but she didn’t seem to be done yet. 

“Nobara?” 

“Y/n?” you heard Megumi’s voice just outside. 

“Megumi? What is it?” You turned the corner that led to the front.

Even if Megumi wanted to tell you right away a list of compliments, he couldn’t. You looked breathtaking. You watched his eyes go wide as he stared at you up and down. You laughed, bashful, fidgeting with your hands behind your back and swaying a little in place to show off the dress. “I know, I told Nobara it was too much. You needed something?” 

“No- Kugisaki- I mean. It’s just right, you look-”  Nobara smiled from where she was eavesdropping, unable to witness the scene without being spotted by you but with a very clear picture of Megumi’s reaction in her head. 

“Whoah! You look beautiful, y/n!” Yuuji appeared, beaming at you and somehow lifting his very occupied hands to give you a thumbs up. Megumi mentally kicked himself for blundering, seeing you now blushing over Yuji’s compliment. If only he’d been able to speak, he would’ve earned that reaction from you. Nobara facepalmed. “You think so too, right, Fushiguro?” He added, flashing a knowing grin at his friend who was probably blushing harder than you. 

“Yeah.” 

“Thank you, boys.” 

Then tragedy happened. Yuji lost hold of one of the bags and as he fumbled to get hold of it again, he succeeded. Only that the bag opened and one shirt hit the ground. 

You all froze, then Megumi reacted, picking up the shirt. Nobara wasn’t there. She wouldn’t notice. 

You were wrong. 

Maybe it was a sixth, or seventh sense, she heard the ruffle of the bags or the silence that followed was too loud. You didn’t know. 

“You idiots!” 

________

“How long have you liked Fushiguro?” You nearly choke on your water at that. Nobara and you were sitting on a bench next to the field outside, having been done practicing. Yuuji and Megumi were still at it, only because Yuji wouldn’t stop. “I’ve been meaning to ask for the past week but can’t seem to get those two out of our hair.” 

You opened your mouth only for her to cut you off, “If you say you don’t like him I swear it’s bull.” 

You closed it again, unsure of what to say now. When you were little kids, sure. It was true you had a little crush on Megumi. But it was just an innocent thing from back then.  Right? 

Bullshit. 

Not so deep down you knew you’d fallen for him. You knew he loved you just like you loved him, but you didn’t think he’d want to change how things were between you. You were just a friend to him. 

“He doesn’t love me like that.”  you entertained yourself fiddling with your arm sleeve. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“What?” 

“He totally adores you. He looks at you like you hold the stars and the moon and the whole solar system.” 

You chuckled. “Even if that were true, I don’t think he wants a girlfriend. Especially if it’s me. Not when we do what we do.” 

“It is true. So what, you’re going to hold back just because you’re afraid? That’s a waste of time and worrying a whole lot about nothing.” 

You looked over at Megumi, who, as if he could tell you were looking at him, turned and gave you a small smile. Yuji noticed him looking over at the two of you and waved animatedly.

Nobara’s eyes softened looking at you, “He’s right there right now, you know?” 

___________

Itadori Yūji was dead. 

There’d been a mission. The sudden apparition of a cursed womb above Eishu Detention Center gave you no option but for you four to go tend to it, no sorcerer on par with a possible special grade curse available. 

Another special grade in what? Three weeks? 

The goal of the mission was to rescue five inmates that were still inside the second building. After, you’d head out. One instruction was clear: 

Do not engage in a fight. 

Yet right now, Megumi and Yuji were arguing. You’ve come into the second building and noticed things were very wrong right away. For a moment you were also trapped, but thanks to Megumi’s divine dogs you could find your way out of what looked like an Innate Domain. The gruesome sight of three mutilated bodies on the floor as you stepped further in only increased the tension.

“I know you’re keen on this idea of saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths. But think, how are you going to feel when someone you save goes on to kill someone else later?” 

“So? Why’d you bother saving me then?” 

“Guys! There’s-” 

“You both need to cut it out!” Nobara lost it too, “Ugh! What the hell is wrong with the two of you?Are you both idiots?” 

“Where’s Shiro? Megumi-” 

“This is hardly the time and place to be acting like-”

“Nobara!” You tried to reach her just before a pool of darkness appeared and swallowed her up. 

“Kugi…saki?” Itadori looked in your direction, meeting your scared expression. Then you gasped, bringing your hands up to your face, catching on to what Megumi was looking at. His divine dog had been destroyed.

“We have to run!” 

It was too late. The cursed spirit appeared right between the two boys, and they froze in place. 

Itadori snapped back first. He tried to attack the cursed spirit with Slaughter Demon but he didn’t get to, his hand getting severed and the dagger breaking in half. 

“Yūji-!” You felt a sudden surge of cursed energy and your eyes widened. You created a shield with your own cursed energy just in time before the special grade sent a pure blast of it out, you being right in its line of shot. It sent you stumbling back, almost hitting the wall on the other side. 

Itadori shouts your name. Megumi yanked him by his sleeve, trying not to trip over his own feet by trying to get to you as quickly as possible. 

“You okay?” You nodded hastily as they helped you back to your feet, still checking if you weren’t hurt. 

“Yūji, your hand-”

“We need to split up.” Itadori says, daring a glance at the special grade. It seemed to be taunting you. “Give you guys time to find Nobara and get out of here.” 

“We can’t stay! We’re not supposed to fight it!” Megumi yelled.

“We don’t have too many options. It’s not like it’s going to let us run away.” You look at him. 

“I can fight. Sukuna can.” Itadori corrects himself. “If I die, you die, right? So you’re helping.” He addresses it. 

“You’re wrong, boy. I still have 18 other pieces of my soul out there.” Sukuna mocks. “Oh, well. I can’t control this body, so do whatever you want. Just know that I’ll kill the punk and his girl before that curse gets a chance, then find the other one and do the same to her.” 

“I won’t let you do that.” Itadori says angrily. 

“Keep focusing on me and you are all dying anyway.” Sukuna says before he falls silent. 

“We can’t trust that guy. Let’s go!” 

“You have to go.” Itadori insisted, looking at both of you. “I’ll keep it busy while you get Kugisaki and get out. Once you’re safe, give me some sort of signal.” 

“You don’t stand a chance! Fighting that thing with one hand?!” 

“I’ll stay back with him.” You spoke up and both turned to look at you.

“No way.” Megumi refused, shaking his head to emphasize his point. “You’re not staying here. None of you are.”

“You can’t stop me.” You said decidedly. “It’ll be fine. If he switches with Sukuna I’ll sit back. Find Kugisaki and we’ll meet you outside.” 

Megumi shook his head again while you nodded, a hand on his cheek. “You better.” 

But you didn’t. You tried to coordinate with Yūji, shielding him every time he’d go for a hit while you tried to get close to be able to touch it and steal its cursed energy. You managed to do so once, and that got you to hit it back with it while Yūji landed a good punch. It wasn’t nearly enough. After that, it was onto you, but you realized it too late. It seemed to have figured to get rid of you first, and deliberately left an opening. Just as you were about to touch it, it swiftly got out of range and brought down his claw-like hand slashing through your torso. The scream that left you felt like it cut your throat, piercing and filling Yūji with dread, before the curse let out another blast of cursed energy at him and he was shot backwards and away, you unable to protect him.

He didn’t hear you when you quickly called out his name. All Itadori could hear was a ringing in his ears that tried to muffle Megumi’s words. He was right. You should’ve left him. And now you might die because you wanted to protect him. And he was going to die too. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. He used to think he was strong. Strong enough to save himself, to save others. To choose how he was gonna go out. 

“Yūji!” In a gap of clarity, he hears you cry out his name. “It’s Megumi’s signal!” 

You’re still on the floor, dragging your body trying to hide out. There’s a hand holding your middle, you feel the blood trickle out in alarming amounts with every strained movement. Your breathing is heavy. You sense it before you turn towards it. You see the black marks on its skin and when he opens his eyes, they’re red. Yūji’s out. 

It’s Sukuna.

You stop. Partly hoping he won’t perceive you if you stay as still as possible, partly because you’re dizzy now, tired and losing a lot of blood. It seems to be reflecting about something. Then it turns to you suddenly. 

You’re pretty sure it’s pathetic, the way you drag yourself back and away from it. Then you reach the border, tiny pieces or rubble falling onto the abyss below. Yūji’s still there, you remember. If Sukuna tries something Yūji will switch back. So you turn from the void and hold its stare as firmly as you can with your swirling head.

“You’re pretty beaten up.” It leans down and brings a hand up to grab your chin. You flinch, holding back a whimper. “It’ll be no fun to kill you like this now. You might just die as it is.” It grins. Then an idea flashes through its mind. “Unless…”

“Hey, you.” He calls to the cursed spirit. Even it’d frozen. Now, scared, it launches an attack at Sukuna. “You’re not very smart, are you?” It harshly lets go of its hold on you, fully turning towards the curse, sneering. 

There’s nothing you can do but watch as Sukuna finally takes on the cursed spirit. Only until he deploys his Domain Expansion. That’s when everything goes black. 

Megumi succeeds in getting Nobara and himself out. When she’s safe with Ijichi, he stays behind. He’s just about to go back in there. What if Itadori can’t switch back? What happens to you? What if he took too long and you’re both dead? 

Then he knows. The special grade must be dead. The Domain closed off. He’s hopeful that you and Itadori will come back safely. That is, until he senses something else. His breath gets stuck on his throat. Behind him. He quickly turns and everything crumbles to the ground. 

Sukuna’s holding you in its arms. You’re unconscious, your head lulling uncomfortably down, a river of blood coming out from a wound on your torso. He can’t tear his eyes away from it.

“Relax, she’s still alive. Barely.” The curse speaks. “If it wasn’t for her, the brat would’ve died before he could’ve switched with me.” 

“Itadori-”

“Oh he’s not coming back.” It smiles maliciously. “Really, I’m in such a good mood right now. You should focus on what’s important.” It really was enjoying the look on Megumi’s face, savoring the fear in it. “I could heal her.” 

Megumi studied him. Itadori’s hand. He’d healed it and overall looked just fine. But you were different. Last time you’d gotten close to it you almost died. He looked at your pale face, the red pooling on the floor. You were dying right now. “Why would you do that?” 

“Just for the hell of it.” 

Sukuna laid you down on the floor with surprising gentleness for a curse. Ripping the already ruined side of your uniform, it placed a hand over your wound, and Megumi watched as it began to close. The action ripped a pained scream out of you, for a moment alarming the boy before you were out again. When he looked down, the wound was gone, only fine, faint scars as tell you were ever hurt. 

Sukuna straightened up and Megumi rushed to kneel by your side. You were better now. You probably still needed to go to the hospital for further treatment. He looked up, “Itadori, you can switch up now-.” 

So rude. “I told you, he’s not coming back. The brat had it coming for trying to use me without making some kind of deal. He’s having a little trouble taking control.” 

“What are you-?” 

 Sukuna lifted a hand to bring through his chest, ripping Itadori’s heart out. ““I’m taking your friend hostage.” Then, it revealed another one of his fingers, swallowing it. The cursed spirit from back there should’ve had it. “For good measure. But I really don’t think he wants to die. You should’ve seen him crying back there.” 

“Now that I’m free, and since I did you a favor, you get to entertain me for a while just until you die. Or I can kill her too. A pity, after all that. Then kill you.” 

Next day, you deal with the aftermath. 

You all try to take in that Yūji is really gone, that none of you were able to do something more to get him out too. You’re also upset about Shiro and Orochi, and even though Megumi grumbles that you know shikigami aren’t pets and not exactly dead, you know he’s upset about it too. 

There’s another thing bothering you that will have to wait. But right now, you’re going to train with the seconds years, having to deal with an Exchange Event on top of it all.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Nobara took a drink of her water bottle, pausing for a moment after being thrown around by Panda. You were also stopping your reign of terror against poor Inumaki. He’d never seen you so aggressive before, even considered using his cursed speech to slow you down. Way to go spooking cute boys. “One of you should stop this routine of trying to sacrifice your lives for each other and confess that you’re in love instead.” Nobara didn’t want to wait. 

You didn’t want to bring it up at the moment. You were busy, so you tried to brush her off. “How could we be thinking about that after what just happened?” 

“You’re going to curse Itadori if you try to put this on him now.” 

“Guess y/n’s been keeping you on your toes, Megumi.” You heard Maki talk to the boy as they sparred. “You’ve gotten better.” With a grin, she smoothly spun around, landing a hit with her spear square in Megumi’s chest, making him fall back onto the ground with force, “Still, I win.” 

“God she is amazing.” Nobara fangirled while you nodded. 

“Oi! You two come back here!” The second year called. 

“We’re going to get our asses whipped.” You muttered before making your way to them.

After Maki gave you a beating -thankfully not as bad and disgraceful as the last time-, you practiced three against three. Rules were clear enough, or so everyone thought at first. First years against second years. Everything was valid as long as it didn’t end in needless injuries/threatened your lives. 

That was, until Megumi had accidentally sent a punch your way, mistaking you for one of the second years. You’d managed to dodge it, but you’d snapped, and you were now aiming for him. 

He raised his hands to block your punches, surprised at the fury behind them, “Hey, I’m sorry! I thought you were-What are you doing-!” 

Everyone else stopped to watch, stunned by your not so sudden outrage. They’d noticed you’d been acting odd before but figured it had something to do with the outcome of yesterday’s mission. They weren’t entirely wrong. 

All Megumi could do was dodge and try to parry you, lost as to the reason for your hostility. He got a grip on both of your forearms, finally restraining you, “Y/n what the hell?!”

You swiftly lowered yourself, one of your legs sticking out as you spun and took Megumi down. 

Behind you, the others displayed a variety of reactions. 

Nobara had her arms crossed, chin up, frowning at Megumi even though the boy couldn’t see it. That’s what you get. She resisted the urge of shouting at you to beat him up further. 

Maki was grinning, someone might say a little wickedly, while inside she felt a little proud seeing the improvement of your movements. 

Toge whistled, impressed (and thankful this time around he was not your target).

And Panda stared, jaw slack and like the others -except Nobara-, with no idea of what was happening.

“I should ask you that!” You scoffed, unamused, staring down at him. “What were you thinking?! Following a curse’s whim letting it heal me and then in exchange you fight it?!” 

His eyes widened as he sat up, “You weren’t supposed to know that.”

“Yeah, because if it wasn’t bad enough already, you were also going to keep things from me.” 

“How did you-”

“That’s not important!” 

“I was thinking of saving you!” He shouted back, then his breath got caught when he noticed you were crying. He stood up, rushing over to you but you backed away. 

“And what? You die instead? What’d make you think I’d be okay with that?” 

“It could have killed me anyway.” 

“Then we both died!” You exclaimed, “What if Yūji didn’t switch back when he did? It wouldn’t have been just him that I couldn’t do anything for.” Your voice broke, “I could’ve lost you too. You’d think you’d saved me but I’d be just as gone.” 

You looked at him a moment longer, before you turned and hurried away. 

Frustrated, Megumi debated whether to follow you or not. Of course you would be upset for what he did, but he’d meant it and was not going to apologize for doing whatever it took at that moment to not lose you. When you didn’t show up for lunch, he decided to at least make sure you ate something. There was no answer when he knocked on the door to your room. He thought you were just ignoring him when he called, so he opened it to find that you weren’t there.

You’d shut yourself in one of the empty classrooms, figuring that no one would show up there. Your stomach growled and you sighed, looking out the window with your head resting on top of your arms that were on top of your knees. You really should go eat something after all that training. You were starving.

Scuffing noises against the door startled you on your seat. Pushing your legs away from your chest, you slowly stood up and walked over to find the source of it. 

The best delivery boy, Megumi’s divine dog, was at the other side of the door. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you crouched down to be at its level, a few stray tears falling. “This is so cheating, don’t you think?” 

Love brought conflicting feelings. Even though you were upset, it still warmed your chest that Megumi gave you space while still being caring. 

The students from Kyoto showed up, taking the opportunity of the principal coming over to go over the Exchange Event plans. It wouldn’t be a big deal, if it weren’t for their intentions of provoking them. 

Nobara instantly got roped with Mai, Maki’s twin sister. You stood up to your friend’s side, wary of the second year. You gritted your teeth when she started talking about Yūji. 

Then there was Aoi Todo. 

With a question very off topic. 

“What kind of woman’s your type?” 

Is he for real?

“Yeah, Fushiguro, why don’t you tell us your type?” Nobara decided to join in, fighting a knowing grin to try and sound innocent. You knew better than that. You elbowed her. 

Megumi, without really catching up to what he was doing, looked over at you. Your eyes widened for a second that you hope wasn’t enough for him to notice before he turned to the third year. Aoi had noticed this little interaction and was grinning, already expecting an answer.

“Why would I want to discuss my taste in women? Especially with you, a guy I just met?”  

Todo’s grin faltered, “C’mon. It’s clear you have your eye in one.”  

“What are you talking about?” 

“You haven’t acted on it?” 

Megumi stuttered, not sure what the deal was with the guy. It’s not like it was his business. Much less that he was going to confess anything right there like that.

Then this guy started tearing up. “I knew it. You’re boring, Fushiguro.” 

______________

Itadori Yūji  was not dead. 

He had just sprung up in front of everyone like a jack-in-the-box right before the Exchange Event started. 

You stood there petrified in place while the boy panicked by how your faces paled and fell. Not the reaction he was expecting apparently. As if coming back from the dead was the norm. 

Nobara was the first to snap back, seemingly ready to pounce on him and beat him up, but there were tears in her eyes, giving away that she was happy to see him. Megumi stared at her before you stared at each other. You could see he was happy too, and unlike Nobara, you did start crying, making Yūji jump out from the box frantically. But they were happy tears. Megumi smiled softly at you while you squeezed the air out of the pink haired boy in a hug. You could be tough but you were such a cry baby too.

Nobara did punch Itadori eventually (she couldn’t do much more. There was an Event they had to win so she couldn’t outshape him too badly). 

“So,” Itadori began, whispering loudly to Nobara, still holding up the memorial photo frame before his face, “How are those two doing?” Thank goodness you weren’t at earshot. 

“Terrible. And you dying didn’t help exactly.” The girl reproached. 

“Well, sorry for getting my heart ripped out.” 

The first competition: 

The Wacky Cursed Spirit Exorcism Race.

Megumi with his shikigami, and you, would be the best scouts. Thus, they’d split in groups to cover ground quicker, Maki with him, you with Nobara and Toge with Panda. Yūji was left to deal with Todo. Something about how the Kyoto students proceeded, though, told you something was off. All of them seemed to be targeting Itadori. 

Hunting the curse spirit be damned. Everyone then went after a different target. 

One thing about you was: 

Your sense of direction sucked. So when Nobara got blown away by a strong gust of wind product of the girl with the broom from Kyoto, and you ended up alone in the woods, you feared you might’ve been lost. That would be the case, if you didn’t have cursed energy to guide you. So following your senses, you went along like that as you’d been doing for the event. There were people everywhere using cursed energy so it was difficult to pick a direction. And there were still the curses you were supposed to be hunting. A certain wave of cursed energy stood out the strongest, so you followed it thinking it could possibly be the second grade cursed spirit. Still, if you couldn’t reach Itadori or fight any of the Kyoto students, winning this thing would be good for yourself and the others. Nobara wanted to help Maki, and so did you. 

“Run.” The voice echoed through. 

“Inumaki senpai?” Your eyes found the source of the voice before he was running in your direction, a startled look on his face as he pulled you along and your body finally followed his command. You dared a glance back to try and figure out what made Inumaki react this way, the source of the strong cursed energy you felt still overwhelmingly near. That’s when you saw it, what was for sure a special grade curse. Its body was white, a cloth over where its left arm should be, two black lines zigzagging its face vertically, with two small branches where eyes usually are. 

This battle was full of curveballs. 

Inumaki reached the buildings where Fushiguro and Kamo were fighting. They’d stopped as soon as they heard an explosion, big branches shooting up by work of the curse. He’d lost you at some point while dodging the curse’s attacks. When he joined the other two, they noticed he obviously was preoccupied by the situation, but there was something else by the way he kept looking around as if something else might pop out of nowhere. 

“Is there another one?” Megumi asked him. Toge shook his head. He didn’t know that. 

“Was there someone else with you?” Was Kamo’s guess. With wide worried eyes, he turned to Megumi. 

You’ve just reached the river when something comes crashing in your direction. It’s the curse. It’s attacking you the moment it spots you. You shield yourself with cursed energy before any of its projectiles hit you. Its body is too tough for your knives to hurt it, but Megumi’s shikigami comes to your help and then both him and Maki gang up on it. 

It happens too fast when Megumi’s hit, a curse bud growing from his stomach. Maki gets distracted and she’s hit too but still she goes to fight while you check up on Megumi. You’d kept your calm, and quickly had resolved what you had to do. 

“What are you doing?” Megumi winces when you place your hands near where the curse sprout is. 

“That thing said it feeds off cursed energy.” He has good control of his cursed energy output, but you use your ability to steal whatever much left you can to reduce its effect. 

“That’s enough- You need to stop. Y/n-”  you’re so focused, his voice becomes background noise when you turn to see how Maki is doing. She dropped Playful Cloud after one of the curses hits and now it has her caught on one of its branches.

You face them both fully, all of the cursed energy making your body buzz with euphoria. With a pure blast of it, you break the branch holding Maki and send the curse a few feet away. That’s enough time for backup to come. Soon, you spot Yūji and Todo.

You sigh before your legs give out. 

“Shit, shit, why the hell did you do that?” Megumi stumbles on his feet, falling to his knees again by your side before having to prop himself up on his elbow when he tumbles to the side. He hovers over you, the last flash of silver leaving your eyes, blood coming out of your nose. 

You laugh and he thinks you might be delirious. “Why do you do it, Megumi?” 

“Because I love you!” He’s crying, some of his tears falling on your cheeks. 

Your eyes are wide in surprise and wonder product of his words. You bring a hand up to brush the tears away and cup his face with a soft smile on your face. “Then you know why I do it.” 

His love for you had always been steady. With how your lives were, he’d kept holding back from his heart’s demand to try new ways of loving you. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Whether you were the one that saved him or killed him. 

Megumi leans down and presses his lips to yours, eyes shut tight while you melt onto him. Warmth spreads from your chest and you swear you feel it all in the space between you, under the palm of your hand that still caresses his face tenderly. 

He breaks away but stays close. You meet his eyes. 

“I love you, Megumi.”  

Your hand falls and it splashes on the water, your eyes fluttering close. 

“No.” He whimpers before he chokes on the sobs trying to shake out of his chest and falls into a coughing fit, blood trickling out of his mouth from the corner of his lips. He falls completely, laying by your side as he caresses your face. His vision goes blurry, lightheaded and teary eyed, before everything disappears.

You feel a weight on your hand. You squint your eyes open, and tilting your head you come face to face with a sleeping Megumi. His hand is clasped in yours between your bodies. You’re in your room. You bring your hands up to leave a kiss on his. The tiny action seems to be enough to wake him up, eyelids fluttering open slowly. He’s fully awake when he sees you are too.

“Hi.” 

A beat passes. His face scrunches up and you do your best to hold back a laugh. “ ‘Hi’?” 

“What is it?” 

“You think you can just say ‘hi’ after passing out right after you said you loved me?” 

“I was just tired.” you giggled and he stared at you incredulously.

Oh my God, he was sulking over that. 

“I tell you I love you all the time, Megumi.” 

“That- It was different.” You were getting to him but you couldn’t help but push further.

“Wanna hear it again?” 

He didn’t answer, but the pink hue of his cheeks was enough for you.

“I love you.” 

He hid his beautiful face on the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss, his spiky hair tickling your skin making you giggle again.

“Ah- They’re both awake!” Itadori shouted from the doorway, and Kugisaki peered from over his shoulder. The pink haired boy was holding two pizza boxes and the girl was carrying a bag with their drinks. 

You hadn’t had an easy life. But Megumi had you, and you had him. You would always fight for each other. And you had good friends, a family. You didn’t know what the future might bring you, but right now this was okay.

A/N: Hello first jjk fic I’m nervous. This is the longest fic I’ve ever written (if you take my hq!! inako series separately. Btw if you like hq!! you can check those out :D). I learned that a problem when fics start to get long it’s not that it’s long but not being sure where to stop. If you’re overdoing it or if you missed a chance to add a certain scene. Let’s see if this doesn’t flop. Not that it matters much if it does bc I just might still write more XD. The title of this fic came from a tweet that said that, that someone had quoted with pictures of Clancy and Torchbearer LMAO (yes I’m a tøp fan) and I thought oh shit that really fits this one. To everyone reading a big, big thank you!!

Notes:

I thought the first place they’d put you in if you said you were seeing such things as cursed spirits would be the loony bin 😭. So yeah, that first thought resulted in the birth of this fic. 

I kinda got a little inspired by Maggie Evans/Victoria Winters from “Dark Shadows” (2012) for reader’s backstory.

Your family had been on the sorcerers’ radar for a while. Once Gojo graduated he’d stumbled upon a file that mentioned the case and learned about your family. That led him to you.

Gojo takes you in months after becoming the Fushiguro’s guardian.

Gojo releases Infinity just a beat before you jump to hug him. He’d only released it so you could reach for his hand before (techniques are tricky for me either because I’m stupid or bc I really haven’t read the manga (I’ve been freely seeing spoilers tho lmao so I have an idea of what’s going on) and I take they’re better explained in it (?). I assume he can focus Infinity to certain parts of his body like I saw on Gojo's past arc episodes).  

You practically start living at Jujutsu High and get your own room there. When he’s out for missions there would be someone around to check up on you.

Yes, Gojo did your ponytails.

Since Gojo had taken in Megumi months prior, he’d already begun training. His technique had already begun manifesting too.

You’re wearing some of Megumi’s clothes that he’d left behind at Jujutsu High and are now too small for him until Gojo gets you clothes. 

That scene is so cute to me but my brain can’t help but go, “Can I pet that dawg?” every time and I end up laughing like an idiot.

You were confused and overwhelmed by the manifestation of your cursed technique, that’s why you didn’t mention anything because you really didn’t understand it. It was something new after all. That was also paired with your fear of losing them. You weren’t used to having people around that understood what you were going through. Last time you’d ended up in an institution. 💀

The permanent look of worry on your face that your bullies notice comes from you worrying about Megumi fighting, unlike the one that came from spotting curses when you were little and didn’t understand.

Stupid bullies hit the jackpot with you because Gojo gave you a generous allowance for the week.

 Nobody at school really knew you were close to Megumi because they hadn’t seen you two hang out together there.

Gojo being a proud dad about you beating up a boy. He’d probably have given you the okay earlier on. Something like, “If they start a fight you end it.” 

Megumi might’ve gotten punched due to the fact that you were involved. He got distracted by you getting hurt and threatening the guy (he wasn’t much of a talker while beating someone up usually).

Looking up facts about Tsumiki made me learn more things about what happened to her (more or less, just skimming through articles and spoiling myself about things beyond s2 lol) and damn isn’t it messed up.

Megumi got scared, thinking what happened to Tsumiki could’ve happened to you. That's why he freaked out when you wouldn’t respond. Just you being a heavy sleeper. Don’t hate meee.

It’s probably stupid but my birthday is in fact 11 days before Megumi’s and when I found out I thought it was cute yk, like Dec. 11 and 22 (do you see what I mean? probably not 😆) so I brought it up here. Also, that makes reader and Gojo (and me)  both sagittarius hehe. Father and daughter (just like, if it wasn’t funny enough, me and my dad (but he’s a Nov. sagi).

You dropped your technique right before Yūji ran past you both. The curse energy coming from him was alarmingly strong enough to be sensed purely without it like any other sorcerer (I mean that much is canon but I’m trying to emphasize my next point lol). If you hadn’t done so and had felt the curse energy coming from him using your technique you probably would’ve passed out right there from exhausting yourself.

I really don’t know if reader’s technique is making sense but imma try to explain what I came up with: First off, I kinda set my mind on Inej from Six of Crows and Noor from MPHFPC and thought about cursed energy like how they put chakra points on Naruto. Omg I know it’s a lot of different things I’m stupid but hear me out JAJA. Reader has a much more acute sense of cursed energy than others. She can actually see it coursing through people’s and curses’ bodies, also cursed tools. Basically anything that has it. Being so, she can see the strongest points where it flows and attack an opponent targeting those, hindering their curse energy flow and weakening them. She uses this in two ways: Weapons: daggers are her go to choice for long range battles (and if she doesn’t hit a particularly strong curse energy body region she still hurts them). For close combat she’d prefer to use a sword or the second way: her bare hands. She can just touch an opponent and extract their cursed energy for her own use. Since she has yet to master manipulating cursed energy that way, she doesn’t use it much. If she takes a little, she can control it better, reducing her own and adapting, or she can burn it off by attacking with it right away with a pure cursed energy hit. If she takes too much she gets like cursed energy “high”, wearing her off considerably afterwards. And if it is from a first grade or a special grade just a small intake could be too much she’ll most likely end up hurt. Other symptoms she may feel by using her technique for long periods are strong headaches, eye sensitivity, mental and physical weariness. Worse case scenario is her body giving out. Her technique is especially successful against opponents without exceptional physical strength cuz she’ll steal or hinder their cursed energy and they’re done for. Another thing she’s currently working on: “ storing”cursed energy (either some of her own or “stolen”): not having to burn it off right away and have like, a reserve. If she’s in battle with a partner and they’re running  low on curse energy, she could transfer some to them (reader being like miss cursed energy battery or smth like that lol). I haven’t thought about her domain expansion but I don’t think I’ll need it for this fic. 💀 I just put too much thought behind her technique probably, and idek if it would make sense in the jjk verse lol. Idk if it makes sense as it is in this fic. But just in case I expand the world of this fic and do more works using these traits I have all this and I’ll have to invent a DE pfff. Basically making an oc. Also there’s more details like what Megumi mentions about you being able to turn on your technique without actually “stealing” cursed energy but sensing its flow. To you it feels like you’re feeling the person’s or cursed spirit’ s essence/personality/conscience. You could say their core or soul but that’s not exactly it, that’s Mahito’s thing JAJA but you’re close enough. That’s why Megumi’s calms you down aaaand that’s why Sukuna fucked you up. 

Your cursed energy shines white. I made that up bc, yk, Megumi with his 10 shadows and reader looking like she’s casting “light”. Totally unimportant XD

There’s always a report after missions. Megumi had recounted what happened but asked if they could leave the details about what happened with Sukuna and him out when they briefed you on it. Gojo told on him when he went to check up on you. Nobara was there.

Reader is a hypocrite getting mad about Megumi risking his life for hers while she be around doing the same thing lololol. 

Anyways, I just wanted to write that scene of Megumi summoning Shiro to comfort reader while Gojo adopted another kid and ended up with a whole fic with no plans and no direction. Just typed awaaay jaja

Me and music go together as some may alr know so here’s a few songs I thought about while writing this: 

 . Peak of Despair by Jake Stark, MITTY

 . Numb to the Feeling by Chase Atlantic (how the fuck, you may ask. I took out the drugs and the horny out of it JAJA)

. DIE FOR ME by Chase Atlantic (pretty much the same case stated above)

. Saving Flowers by salute, Rina Sawayama

. Soft Spot by keshi 

(If there was something else not mentioned here that you’re curious about or stood out to you hit the ask button <3. Thank you for reading up to this point!) 

Until next time, 

Youmarin <3