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just-jordie-things · 3 months

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the blackest day - fushiguro megumi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: shibuya + light culling game arc spoilers but not very canon compliant lmfao. suggested major character death, heavy themes of depression (not reader) including: not eating, insomnia, feelings of worthlessness + suicidal ideation. mentions of needles, stitches, + blood. heavy angst with a happy ending. summary: megumi tried to tell her not to go to that station. all he can do now is think that he should've tried harder. more info: rivals/friends to lovers, lots of hurt/some comfort, megumi has reached ultimate functioning angst in this ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s not easy for me to talk about // i have heavy heartstrings. and not simple, it’s trigonometry // it’s hard to express // i can’t explain // ever since my baby went away, it’s been the blackest day ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I don’t care that they assigned me to go with Nanami,”

Her voice came out in a huff, irritation getting the better of her, and it was starting to become quite noticeable. Her chest was puffed, her lips were pulled into a snarl that looked completely unnatural on her usually bright features. The hand that wasn’t holding a short sword was curled into a fist so tight it began to tremble.

“Itadori needs my help more” She finished, sounding sure of this change of plan.

Megumi cursed under his breath, this petty argument being the last thing he was in the mood for. There was no time for some ridiculous change in team ups. The pairings had already been decided, and had happened for a reason. With a veil over Shibuya making communication impossible, a change like this was absurd.

“You don’t get to just pick and choose what you want to do, (y/n),” He snapped back at her, before aggressively pointing in the direction of Nanami’s team, where he and Takuma had just taken off.

It hadn’t been until too late that Megumi caught (y/n) hovering away from her group, looking lost under a flickering street lamp as she gazed off in the opposite direction of her team, chewing on her lip as she worried about her other classmate headed for the train station. Had Megumi noticed sooner, he probably wouldn’t be standing here fighting with her right now. He probably could’ve hollered for Nanami or Takuma to circle back and drag her off if they had to. But they were too far gone now to yell after, and his phone was useless.

“These teams were drawn up for a reason,” He muttered. “Now you’ve rendered it useless”

She rolls her eyes at his drama, turning to head off towards the train station, not caring about winning this argument. There were more important things to do right now than stand here and bicker with Megumi. She was getting tired of this repetitive game of his anyways.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He took a large step towards her, making her halt in her tracks before she could get very far.

“I told you,” She snapped back. “I’m going after Yuuji. Something’s not right. I can feel it”

Megumi’s eyes widened and twitched.

“You can’t be serious”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

Her expression didn’t flinch. He could tell by the hardness in her eyes that she’d set her mind to this new plan of hers, and no matter how stupid it was, he knew deep down she wasn’t going to waver on it.

“You’re not going off on your own,” Megumi scoffs, hoping he could get her to see that she’d be walking right into a trap if she split off by herself. “Do you even know your way there?”

“I think I’m capable of reading street signs, Fushiguro”

Surname. Ouch. He was only succeeding in pissing her off.

“Just- god, just come with me, alright?” He suggests instead, thinking a compromise would sway her. “Going off by yourself right now is reckless and you know it. Come on. If the roles were reversed you wouldn’t let me do this”

Her eyes narrow, and she clenches her jaw.

“I’m not going to stand here and play the ‘what if’ game with you,” She told him. “You’re wasting time. If you cross paths with anyone, tell them I went after Yuuji”

“(y/n)-”

Before he could come up with another argument- or resort to picking her up off the ground and forcing her not to go- she was already turning on her heels and breaking into a full sprint.

Megumi had tried to follow her, but she’d always been faster than him. He called after her until his throat burned raw. Eventually he had to go off with his own team, knowing if he strayed too far then he was putting himself at just as great a risk as she’d been.

But fuck, had he made a mistake in not pushing himself to follow her.

Even if they’d both died trying to get to Yuuji, he thinks it would’ve been better than this.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Megumi wakes up that morning looking like he was in just as terrible of a state as he had the day before. And the day before that. And every day before that for the last six days.

It had been a week since the incident with Shibuya, and with every day that passed and the more ground they covered, Megumi was starting to feel worse.

Yuuta silently offered up an apple he’d found at the last shop they’d raided. Megumi barely glanced at it before shaking his head, going right to work rolling up the sleeping bag that was starting to get worn and dirty. Yuuta frowned, crouching down beside the younger man to talk quietly with him.

“You should eat something,” He suggests calmly. “When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?”

Megumi tries not to appear annoyed. He knows Yuuta is only trying to look out for him, he’d been trying to look out for everyone. Unfortunately since the impact of Shibuya, it was hard to keep everyone in check and healthy.

“Ate last night” Megumi replied.

Yuuta frowned.

“You had a bite of a loaf of bread” He replied knowingly.

Megumi paused in his movements, his sleeping bag rolled up part way, and his eyes caught the beginnings of a hole that he hadn’t noticed before. It must’ve gotten caught on some rubble or debris and torn the nylon. He frowned at the supposed tear-proof material. If it worsened it would be a nuisance, and if he was out of a sleeping bag, well, who knew when or if he’d come across another one.

Pushing that worry off for a later time, he glanced at Yuuta over his shoulder. His face was blank, as it had been for the better part of the last week.

“You don’t need to keep tabs on me,” He said. “I’m fine”

Yuuta held his stare for a long moment, hoping that if he let the lie sit there for long enough, Megumi would realize how empty it sounded.

But he didn’t budge.

So Yuuta sighs, standing and dropping the apple back into a paper bag and rolling it up so it’d tuck neatly in the backpack of supplies they’d been gathering.

“You know eventually, you’ll need to eat something,” He says matter-of-factly. “If we come across something and you don’t have the energy to fight-”

“I said I’m fine”

Despite the harsh words, Megumi’s voice is monotone, and not all that loud. In fact, he’s almost whispering. It only sends a chill of worry through Yuuta’s demeanor. He’d already been stressing over his well being- not to mention Maki’s, and Itadori’s- it was starting to be a weight on his shoulders keeping an eye on everyone.

It wasn’t that he was burdened by his friends or the guilt they bore, but after a certain amount of time, he just didn’t know how to help anymore.

Yuuji was completely unable to separate himself from Sukuna, taking on the destruction of Shibuya and blaming himself for the entire catastrophe. All the death, the chaos, and where they found themselves now, the boy could barely keep it together. Yuuta had only known him for a short amount of time, and even he found his behavior to be unsettling.

Maki had slain her entire bloodline. All but her sister, who had died trying to protect her, trying to make her stronger, so that when she broke free from their twisted clutches, she was able to take down every single one of them. Yuuta had barely approached the subject. No one did, really. Maki had briefly mentioned it when they all grouped together, and since then, it’d been radio silence.

And Megumi… well, Megumi was still beating himself up over (y/n). It didn’t matter what anyone said. It didn’t matter that Yuuji held onto some sliver of hope that she’d made it out of Shibuya before shit really hit the fan. It was as though Megumi had tuned everything out. They practically watched him dim before them, a burnt out bulb that wouldn’t light again no matter how much they prodded and tried.

For now, Yuuta let him be. The gang packed up their supplies from the spot they’d crashed the night before, and without much talk at all began moving again. Here and there they talked about direction, and brainstormed how to get around stealthily, but other than that, it was mostly a quiet journey.

Megumi remained completely silent. One hand on the strap of his sleeping bag over his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket. Distantly he recognized that his stomach was aching and his mouth was dry, and he was sure he was also in desperate need of a shower, too. But even as the thoughts crossed his mind, they seemed to float away and fade into nothing. Just like everything else that tried to fill the time in his head, it was always replaced by the overwhelming gnaw of grief.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to eat. It wasn’t like there was much food to go around anyways. Wasn’t everyone else much more deserving of a healthier portion? What had he done in comparison to everyone else in this makeshift group of people who were once peers but now that Jujutsu Society had fallen apart… did they even have anything else in common?

Just as the mental downward spiral began, it was washed away once more by the reminder that it didn’t matter anyways. Guilt and loss settled at the forefront of his thoughts again, and he kept his head down as he continued walking.

The ironic part about all of this was that if she had been here, she’d laugh at him and smack him upside the head. Everything matters, dummy, he could almost hear her scolding him, with no bite to her bark, just as always. She always had something dumb to say like that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Stop being so gloomy, ‘gumi!” She’d hollered, followed by a string of laughter as she skipped up to him, turning her back to Nobara and Yuuji, who happily kept walking along to the next shop on their trip.

“Definitely don’t ever call me that again” He muttered back, crinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes in distaste for the nickname. She laughed again, stopping just before him on the sidewalk, just as their friends entered a boutique, leaving them behind.

“Oh yeah?” She places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at him, and he wonders if she knows that their friends just abandoned them out here. “Or what?” She asks defiantly.

He’d taken notice that when she was trying to instigate a bickering match, the corner of her lips tilted up in a proud little smirk. She tended to get ahead of herself, always certain that she’d win whatever it was they were doing. From petty arguments on the sidewalk to sparring to missions where she always wanted to compete and one up him. Although after a while he had to admit it could be a little fun to show off on the easier-to-exorcize curses.

“Dork,” He rolls his eyes without a hint of genuine attitude. When she gapes at him in mock offense he raises his hand to flick her forehead. “C’mon, our friends dipped” He starts to head towards the shop Nobara and Yuuji had disappeared into, but she stays put outside.

“Yeah… I sort of let them…” She admits, a small, guilty smile stretching across her lips. Megumi raises his eyebrows at her, smiling back in amusement. Usually whatever those two were up to, (y/n) was following behind like an eager duckling. “What?” She asks innocently. “I just don’t want to spend all day looking at things I won’t buy and then carrying all of Nobara’s shit!” She defends herself.

Megumi laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at their corners and his shoulders shaking and everything. (y/n’s) almost taken aback by the action, surprised that he looked so… joyful.

“Alright, you’ve got a point. We have an opportunity here, and we should take it while we can” He begins to plot with her, and her smile stretches into a grin as she nods back at him.

“Bookstore and coffee?” She suggests quietly, as if it was more outlandish of an idea than it really was.

Megumi nods affirmatively, tucking his hands in his pockets before turning in the opposite direction, (y/n) following him right away so they could make it there before their friends noticed their departure.

She still pushed his buttons as they made their way to their destination down the street, but he couldn’t help but feel a blossom of warmth in his chest that for once he was the one getting her to tag alongside him. He would never admit it, opting to poke back at her the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but it had felt… good.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The day that annoying chirping flyhead had announced a culling game, Megumi felt a glimmer of hope spark inside of him that he barely recognized. It had only been nine or so days since the incident, but it seemed like ages since he’d felt optimistic about something- anything.

But as the flyhead spouted off the rules to the games, he’d hoped that a lineup would be included. Surely with so many sorcerers pitted against each other, there must be some condition of having all of the participants and their points on display, right?

The others recognized a change in him then, an eagerness, an impatience as he barely took in what the flyhead was announcing, only waiting to hear what he wanted.

Announce the players’ names, he silently pleaded with the damn thing. Say her name, tell me she’s a participant, tell me she’s alive.

But the rules concluded, the flyhead seemingly disappeared, and Megumi felt like a fucking idiot.

Yuuji and Yuuta shared a look, and the pink haired boy turned to give his friend an apologetic expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but Megumi tightened his hold on the strap of his sleeping bag and kept walking before he could say anything.

He didn’t want to hear any bullshit about maybes or what ifs. He just wanted to get to the next safe place by nightfall so he could lay awake on his sleeping bag for eight hours, and then repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.

His ever so present grief and his growing hunger was starting to blend into a concoction that made him more stand-offish than usual. The others had almost cracked, barely acknowledging him at this point, simply not knowing how. Yuuji still tried, of course. Forcing a water bottle in his face, or a piece of food that hadn’t gone totally bad. He’d maybe had a few bites here or there in the last few days, not nearly enough to keep up his energy, but somehow he pushed through anyways.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t finding some hidden source of energy, he wasn’t persevering, and he certainly wasn’t living because he had to. If he was being honest, he’d been wondering why his body hadn’t given out on him yet. Nothing felt good anymore. If it wasn’t numb, it ached, and neither one of those options was more of a relief than the other.

He wasn’t pushing through the unmovable force of his grief. (y/n)... Nobara… Gojo… Nanami… He wasn’t staying strong in their memory, and if anything, he wished his body would just give up already so he wasn’t such a burden to those around him. Megumi spent most of his time in his own head, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. He saw the way the others talked about him with only their eyes. Short, worried glances exchanged on his behalf, each of them trying to silently convince the others to do something first, no one wanting to be the one to address it.

Tonight when he rolls out his holey sleeping bag and lays back on it, he stares at the starless sky and pleads with it. He begs the rolling clouds and inky black night to let him close his eyes, just this once, so that he won’t have to open them again.

He can’t possibly spend another long night wide awake, thinking about his hunger, thinking about her, no matter how hard he tries to shove it all deep, deep down and ignore it.

As exhausted as he is physically, sleep never takes over his body.

A tear rolls out of the corner of his eye, trekking slowly down his cheekbone. It lingers at his jaw, fat and wobbly as he clenches his teeth together as hard as he can stand it, desperate to make this tear the last.

It falls with a near silent splat against the nylon material he lays on.

The following little splats come in quick succession, seemingly a little louder as they fall one after the other. Megumi chokes down the sobs to be sure no one else could catch wind of his breakdown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

She momentarily glances up at him when he enters the room, only to scowl and turn away as soon as she recognizes it’s him. Megumi fights the urge to roll his eyes, sliding the infirmary door shut and tucking his hands into his pockets as he approaches her.

“I’m not talking to you,”

Despite her sharp glare, he laughs at the ironic statement.

“I mean it. I’m still mad at you,” She spits out, turning back to where she was stitching up the gash in her upper arm.

It was a nasty thing to look at, and probably worse to patch up on her own, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten back from an assignment too late to request Shoko’s help- and reverse cursed technique.

“Seriously,” There’s more of a bite to her tone when she plunges the needle through the narrow end of the wound. “Just go”

She’s hissing and clenching her jaw before pulling the needle through and doing it again, trying to keep her stitches even. It wasn’t the easiest task with her non-dominant hand, but she didn’t want to show an ounce of struggle.

“You sure talk a lot for not talking to me” Megumi hums, still coming closer, despite her warnings.

He earns himself another glare, but he ignores it, stepping up to where she’s sat on the edge of one of the paper-covered cots. She flinches as though to lean away from him, and he raises a brow at her.

“You want sloppy stitches?” He asks pointedly, voice hushed and lacking any emotion. “Fine by me, have it heal weird if that’s what you want”

He starts to step away, and (y/n) huffs. Her eyes shut and her shoulders slump, and he takes her nonverbal defeat as his cue to pluck the needle from her hand and get to work. She wouldn’t say so out loud, but she knew his hand was steadier than hers anyways.

He works quickly and diligently. His free hand placed gently around her arm to make sure it stays still as he stitches up the gnarly cut. She tries not to react to how cold it is to the touch, but her muscles flinch when he first makes contact.

“Sorry” He mumbles without much thought, going for the fourth stitch.

“For what, exactly?” (y/n) mutters back with a furrow in her brow. “For your freakishly cold hands? Or for letting me take this hit back there?”

Megumi doesn’t respond right away, opting to keep his focus on his needlework. This only annoys her further, and he can practically feel it radiating off of her. He knew it was a matter of seconds before she blew up at him, she was probably just thinking through what she wanted to say when she screamed his head off. He could tell her to shut up and stop acting so childish, but he doesn’t.

And he’s not totally sure why. If this was Yuuji or Nobara in her place, he’d be telling them exactly where they’d gone wrong on that assignment, and to top it off walk them through how they needed to shape up before they took another one.

But it’s not Yuuji or Nobara. It’s (y/n). And his mouth stays shut.

Truth was she wasn’t necessarily wrong. He had technically let her take this hit from a Grade Two curse with a horrific set of claws. But had he not sent her that way, then she would’ve wanted to tag team the Grade One with him. And this particular Grade One had a gore streak in the deaths it had caused around Tokyo. And on that fact alone, he took it on himself, and ordered (y/n) to take on the Grade Two.

“I mean seriously what the fuck was that? You think you get to boss me around just ‘cause you’ve been doing this a little longer?”

And here she goes. He braces himself mentally for whatever she was about to throw at him.

“Or is it something else? Hm? You needed the ego boost? Needed to feel like some kind of big strong man, Megumi?” Her eyes narrow at him but he doesn’t cast her a single glance. His focus remains on the steady movements of stitching her up. “Did it feel good to play hero? Did you feel good exorcizing that Grade One and laughing when I let a measly little Grade Two take me down-?”

“I wasn’t laughing”

His voice is quieter than hers, and significantly calmer, but it still manages to shut her up. For a moment, her expression is blank while she still stares at him, and he still keeps his eyes on his task.

A lump forms in her throat, suddenly making it very hard to insult him. It remains silent between them as Megumi finishes up the last stitch, finishing it off perfectly and dropping the bloody needle on the tray beside the cot. The metallic thunk echos shortly, and then finally, he turns his attention towards her.

To his surprise, her eyes looked wet. She couldn’t possibly be holding back tears. Surely the stitches hurt, she wasn’t invincible, but she was strong, and never showed weakness. Even when that curse had grabbed her by the arm and he feared it was going to rip it clean off her body, she hadn’t cried. Screamed and swore, sure, but not a tear was shed the whole way back to campus.

“Think what you will,” He tells her, eyes flickering between hers curiously, wondering what it was that would make her tear up now. “But I’m not so callous that I would take amusement in your pain,”

She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only burns more, and she hopes that he can’t see the emotion on her face, she hopes that she’s expressionless, cold, even.

“In fact, when I sent you after that curse, it was for the opposite reason. I was trying to do you a favor”

“A favor?” She repeats, intending to snap the words back at him, but her voice is strained by her burning throat, and instead she almost sounds… lost. Megumi can’t quite put his finger on it.

He nods his head once in a short motion.

“Sorry you got hurt,” He says, and he means it, but his tone still lacks any sort of emotion. He plans to keep it that way. “Just didn’t want to see you get ripped to shreds by a Grade One”

He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t give her the chance to reply, or even fully react to that statement. Instead he turns around and walks right back out of the infirmary, not so much of a nod in parting as he shuts the door behind him and leaves her completely alone.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Megumi had found Yuuji after the incident in Shibuya, he’d ran to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, asking if he was alright and hugging him shortly out of the pure relief that someone was there, someone lived. Even though Yuuji was in rough shape physically and mentally after everything, he was a person that Megumi could see and touch, and relief flooded through him like pure ecstasy.

“Nobara?” He’d asked, unable to finish the rest of the question. He didn’t have to for Yuuji to understand.

Yuuji didn’t have to answer aloud for Megumi to understand. His glossy eyes turned away, desperate for something else to catch his attention before he thought too hard about the fate their friend befell.

Megumi frowned, his throat going dry as he swallowed harshly.

He didn’t want to ask anymore questions. He wanted to relish the lone fact that Yuuji, his best friend, was alive and standing in front of him. He not only lived through the catastrophe but they’d reunited. He wished he could hold onto that joy for just a moment longer. But he couldn’t help himself from asking another burning question in his mind.

“A-and (y/n)?” He stammered out uncharacteristically. His panic was evident in his wide eyes and tightening grip on Yuuji’s shoulders. The pink haired boy looked back at him in alarm. “She- she left Nanami’s team to come find you, did she?” He explained the situation poorly, not wanting to waste time talking if Yuuji had an answer for him.

He doesn’t respond right away.

“Did she find you?” He asks again, his voice quieter as his features begin to fall.

His heart hammered in his chest in a way he’d never felt before. A deep rooted fear he can’t recall ever having before, even as a toddler and fearing a monster under the bed didn’t hold up against the icy hot pins forcing their way through his bloodstream now. His face felt hot as it went pale. The back of his neck felt sweaty as a cool breeze hit it. He was sure he was about to have a seizure, the panic was all too much. The longer Yuuji didn’t give him an outright response, the worse the taste of bile in Megumi’s throat became.

“I did see her,” Yuuji finally mumbles out, dropping his eyes to his hands, which he held palms up and trembling before him. “After Choso- the people that…” Yuuji coughs, the need to vomit suddenly pushing through his mind and throat. “She was trying to exorcize them all,”

He was struggling to explain what he recalled seeing that night. It was all too brutal, and his mind was trying to push the trauma into a dark corner where he couldn’t think about it if he tried. But this was important. Megumi needed to know.

“She… she was crying,” Yuuji looked up at Megumi again, who furrowed his brows and shook his head. “She knew they were still people deep down, like… Junpei”

Megumi’s head shaking grew more rapid as he processed this all too slowly for his liking.

“And then?” He asked. “And then what? Where’d she go? You got split up?” Question after question tumbled out of his mouth so quick his words began to slur together.

Yuuji wanted to cry just seeing him so worried sick, much less actually remember what happened.

“I… I didn’t see,” The pink haired boy admitted quietly, shame bringing his eyes downcast again. “I’m sorry, Megumi. W- we got separated. But there… there were so many of them…”

Megumi had stepped away, his hands falling from Yuuji’s shoulders, hanging heavy at his sides as he took a larger step back.

“I tried to find her,” Yuuji’s voice cracked as he hoped to explain himself. “Really I- I didn’t want to abandon her, I didn’t want to leave her there, not after everything she did to get to me- she- fuck- she probably saved my life showing up when she did!”

He could register that Yuuji was still speaking, but Megumi could hardly make all of it out. His vision was clouding over, and his entire body felt weak, as though he could collapse at any point. He hadn’t even realized he was heaving until Yuuji, Maki, and Yuuta were crowded around him and helping him slowly down to the ground to calm him down.

He’d never had a panic attack before.

Finding out that (y/l/n) (y/n) had likely died along with countless others in Shibuya struck the first of several panic induced attacks. Most of which he managed to keep hidden from the others, but some hit so hard and so suddenly that it was near impossible to work through it in private.

He’d been replaying Yuuji’s account of that night over and over in his head for days now, trying to find some sort of hope that she could’ve gotten out of that train station before all hell broke loose. But with a hazy recollection and no other witnesses, it was hard to pretend that she made it out alive.

At first he’d spent time looking for signs of her as they traveled. Any remains of camps he was sifting through, hoping to find that familiar necklace she always wore, or the shortsword she’d carried that night, something- anything that could point to a sign of her still being out there somewhere.

But now he barely lifted his head as he followed the group blindly, kicking at loose rubble and keeping a tight hold on his unraveling sleeping bag that was almost at the end of it’s lifespan. There would be no use in holding onto a tattered rag of nylon.

There wasn’t a chance he’d ever see her again. His denial was beginning to fade, reality giving him a cold slap to the face to wake him up. It was harsh. It left him rough around the edges, literally and figuratively. His facial features were sharper, and devoid of color. His muscles were sore, only growing more so the longer he put off eating a proper meal. If he kept this up he knew there would only be a few more sleepless nights until he didn’t stand back up in the morning.

And still, when he was offered a piece of food, he took a mere few bites before excusing himself to go lay on his ruined sleeping bag and stare at the sky.

He cursed it when it was empty and dull. He cursed it when it was full of twinkling stars and a bright moon. It was never quite right.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y’know any constellations?”

Megumi startled upon hearing her tired voice creep up behind him. When he turned to see her shuffling out of the doors in her bare feet and ducky-print pajama shorts and matching tee, he could almost laugh. She was yawning, her eyes shut as she rubbed at them with the ball of her fist. She looked like a child.

“It’s late” He muttered when she waddled up next to him sleepily.

“No shit,” She grumbles back with a roll of her eyes. “So? Y’know any constellations or not?”

Megumi wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing out here. Had she heard him sneak out of his room to step out for fresh air? He’d left fifteen or so minutes ago. If he’d woken her up, surely she would’ve followed him out here sooner than now.

Not to mention, she’d barely spoken to him since their last assignment together, and their sort-of argument in the infirmary. The few times she had addressed him had only been out of courtesy to their present friends. But even then, her eyes never quite met his, and her words were short.

“Actually, yeah,” Megumi hums thoughtfully. “Tsumiki loved ‘em. She used to show me when I was little”

(y/n) nods, wrapping her arms around herself after realizing she wouldn’t relieve the ache in her eyes if she kept irritating them. She lets out a soft sigh as she stands beside him, tilting her head back to glance across the sky. She wasn’t sure of the last time she’d appreciated the stars. It must have been when she was still a child.

Megumi clears his throat uncomfortably, before raising his hand to trace a pattern in the sky.

“Obviously that’s the Orion’s belt,” He says, before mapping out the rest of the hunter’s shape. “The rest of Orion,” He mumbles, and he’s surprised when he glances down to see (y/n) carefully following his hand. He wonders if she can see it the way he does, like the picture in the Astronomy book Tsumiki used to haul around. Curious to see how interested she really was, he continued on to another constellation. “That’s Ursa Major,” He says, tracing the shape out slowly to give her time to adjust to the image. “And, uh, Ursa Minor is… there” He does the same for both bears.

(y/n) hums curiously, a small smile tugging at her lips in amusement. She never would have guessed that Astronomy of all things was one of Megumi’s interests.

“Do you know what your star sign is?” He asks, dropping his hand and glancing down at her. She raises a brow at him in surprise, slowly delivering her answer, half expecting him to come up short and sheepishly admit he didn’t know where that one was.

But he surprises her again, eyes darting around the sky for a matter of seconds before finding it in seconds and dragging his fingers along the main stars of her constellation with a great amount of ease.

“Alright, that’s pretty cool,” She finally confesses, shyly glancing up at him. “You’re a pretty good brother for learning all of this” She tells him.

His attention is brought back down to her as soon as she says it, finding a soft smile on her face and a look in her eyes that he can’t quite decipher. He thinks it’s akin to worry, perhaps empathy. His eyes flicker between hers a few times as he tries to pinpoint exactly what it is. She doesn’t shy away from his long silence accompanied by the eye contact that made her feel like she was an artifact under glass.

It’s quiet for a while, until eventually Megumi looks back up at the sky again. She wonders what brought him out here to begin with, but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she clasps her hands together behind her back and admires the stars with him.

“What else can you show me?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If it had been up to him, Megumi would’ve rather stayed behind at Jujutsu Tech to guard Tengen. Maybe if he’d sat alone in the warping hallways of the school he could pass out from the mindfuckery of it all. Then maybe, once Kenjaku arrived…

It doesn’t matter now. Yuki and Choso had already decided they’d be the ones to stand guard. He and Yuuji were already on their way to find Hakari, and there was no point in changing plans now. Besides, he didn’t want to burden Yuuji any further than he was sure he already had.

“So, you’ve met this guy?”

Yuuji’s the first to speak, and Megumi doesn’t exactly have an answer. He shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head side to side with a blank expression.

“Sort of. I guess”

Yuuji waits for further explanation, but after a few beats of silence, he realizes that Megumi isn’t going to explain what that means.

“Okay… well, do you think we can convince him to help us?”

“Don’t know” Megumi replies.

Yuuji frowns, and turns his gaze forward, fixing it straight ahead before slowly exhaling through his nose to ease his nerves.

Megumi glances at him out of his peripheral vision, and seeing his clear disappointment in his features, huffs out a breath and tries to explain himself.

“I met him for, like, a minute. One time. Before I was even enrolled at Jujutsu Tech,” He said.

Yuuji turned towards his friend with a grin, eager to hear him opening up, or at least, trying to. For once he keeps his mouth shut in the hopes that Megumi continues to talk.

“Gojo introduced me,” He went on. “And I really don’t know if he’ll help us. He’s a bit… eccentric” He mutters the last part with distaste.

“Like Gojo?” Yuuji chuckles, and Megumi tilts his head from shoulder to shoulder once more.

“If Gojo had a gambling addiction so twisted it got him kicked out of school, then… maybe”

Yuuji’s eyes widened, and he snapped his mouth shut before he could ask any other questions. Megumi’s patience may have been thin- and perhaps nonexistent at this point- but he had a feeling that he should let his friend save up some energy for his social battery. If Hakari is anything like Gojo, then he’d certainly need it.

When they stop to rest it’s not for long. Yuuji gets Megumi to eat a bit more than usual, though not by much, he takes it as a good sign. They rest just long enough to soothe the ache in their feet, but as soon as they’re moving again, the pain returns. Neither one of them complained.

THe sun was just starting to set when they finally reached their destination. Megumi stopped them both just on the perimeter of the territory. An unsettling feeling spiking in his chest had his instincts telling him not to step any closer without a plan.

Silently, he glances over to Yuuji, who’s already surveying the area. He must have felt it, too.

“Cursed energy?” Yuuji mumbles, his brows furrowed as he meets Megumi’s hard stare.

The dark haired boy nods his head once in confirmation.

“Yeah,” He hums back. “And a lot of it”

It was impossible to ignore. Cursed energy in great quantities had a natural buzz, like static electricity in the air. This wasn’t that at all. If Megumi closed his eyes and focused on it, he was sure he could feel the ground below him vibrating with thick waves of energy.

One thing was for sure, they were in the right place. But whatever it was that was happening here put him on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” He muttered, stepping past the brush they’d been hiding behind and heading towards the building. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Yuuji was following. “And your expectations low” He adds upon seeing the grin on his friend’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Arms up, Megumi!”

Despite her offensive stance and the glow of cursed energy around her fists, (y/n’s) voice was full of pure delight. Sometimes when Megumi would spar with her, he would be reminded of Maki. He never understood why she never sought her out instead, surely the older sorcerer was a better match for her twisted delight with training. Nonetheless, here he was on a Saturday, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands to keep his face behind his arms so that when she hit him she didn’t break anything.

(y/n) spoke as if she could read his thoughts.

“Skipping out on training doesn’t get you to Grade One, y’know,” She told him as they started circling. “And if Yuuji can’t teach me Black Flash, I’ll have to learn it myself!”

“Did you even ask Nanami?” Megumi grumbles, already knowing her answer.

She wasn’t one to ask for help. Only ever requesting a training partner- or victim, as Nobara had once affectionately put it.

She didn’t give him an answer anyways, throwing a fist towards his exposed stomach, trying to apply her cursed energy at the last possible moment. She not only didn’t succeed in using Black Flash, but she missed hitting him too, as he dodged with a graceful sidestep.

“If you’re so scared, why’d you say yes?” (y/n) asked, gearing up to find a weaker spot on him to aim for.

He doesn’t want to answer that, but she clearly isn’t going to make her attack until he gives her something, so he huffs.

“No one else would wake up at this hour on a weekend” He says lamely. It feels like a lie when he says it, even though Megumi knows it’s the truth.

It was seven in the morning, after all. Yuuji and Nobara likely wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours. If (y/n) needed a partner to train, her options were severely limited.

“Guess you’re right” She shrugs.

In the same motion she throws another punch at him, this time her cursed energy crackling in her hand, giving her some hope. But even though she landed a hit on his shoulder, it was still unsuccessful.

She groans loudly, to which Megumi scowls, seeing as he was the one that just got punched. He rolls his shoulder to work out the ache before taking his defensive stance again, waiting for her to try again.

“You’re not in the right mindset” He points out.

She raises a brow at him.

“You wanna chase me around a bit?” She suggests, only half jokingly. Megumi snorts, but stops himself before he could actually laugh at the idea.

“No,” He shakes his head. “You should try something else”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” He huffs, annoyed for trying to walk her through a technique he’d never even used. Still, he finds himself brainstorming another approach. “Try psyching out,” He suggests, nodding his head as he thinks it through. “It’d be more effective that way anyways. If you’re using hand-to-hand with an opponent but don’t lead with it, you’ve got the element of surprise on your side, too,”

(y/n) nods along with him, finding the advice to be surprisingly solid.

“So if you let them underestimate you, then catch them off guard, you’d probably be good as gold” He finished.

She beams at him as she raises her fists again, ready to take his advice out on him right away.

“Just remember you suggested it when I take you to the infirmary later” She teases.

Megumi smirks, widening his stance and raising his arms to protect his face again.

“You’ll still have to figure out the technique” He reminds, but the coy look on his face suggests that he had no doubt in his mind that she could master it in no time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The inside of the building was so loud and rambunctious, it was downright overstimulating. Megumi fought the urge to cover his ears as soon as they entered the premises. Crowds of people swarmed multiple levels- he counted about six before getting distracted by all the pushing and shoving- and it was no secret what it was they were wildly rooting for.

“A fighting ring, huh?” Yuuji grinned, not out of delight for the sport, but surprise for the timing of a setting like this. Did these people even know about the games?

“Great,” Megumi clicked his tongue bitterly as he surveyed the crowds with a furrow in his brow. “Should’ve expected he’d pull some shit like this” He muttered too low for Yuuji to make out what he was grumbling about.

The squared ring where the current match was taking place wasn’t too far from where Yuuji and Megumi found themselves, but with all of the people in the way it made it difficult for them to see who was winning. Too many arms in the air with money in their fists blocked the fight. But it seemed whoever was up there was getting thrown around like a ragdoll. The sound of a body rapidly being smacked against the rough mat or against the chains surrounding the ring were heard in quick succession.

However despite the sound of someone being brutalized, the match continued. Neither of them have caught a glimpse of either combatant, but they knew it must’ve been an impressive lineup as it had been a few minutes of this now.

“Is this even legal?” Yuuji asked. Megumi scoffed, although he wasn’t trying to deliver a rude response.

“Not even a little bit” He mutters back with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, they decide they’re going to push through the horde of chanting people to get a better look at what was going on. They pause in their shoving when a booming voice erupts from an intercom, the screech of an excited announcer sounding throughout the building and echoing across the concrete infrastructure.

“Place your final bets now!” He drawled every word out for dramatic effect. “Will our resident Panda live to see another day?”

Yuuji and Megumi locked eyes instantly, and without having to say a thing, began pushing and shoving forward again. The sea of people cast them dirty looks and occasionally pushed back to scold them for their rude behavior, but they paid it no mind.

There could only be one Panda in that ring, right?

Sure enough when they got closer to the square, they could see the wide, furry expanse of a panda- The Panda’s- back. His shoulders were trembling, not from pain or fear, but from the rambunctious laughter he let out. He raised his paws, tilting his head back as his howl boomed.

Yuuji’s face brightened excitedly upon seeing their old friend. Megumi couldn’t help but feel some relief as well. Neither of them had considered the possibility of scattered sorcerers they knew being here.

They were close enough now that when Panda spoke, they could make out what he was saying. The crowd around them was too busy screaming and chanting threatening cheers to care about what the fighters in the ring were saying to one another, but Yuuji and Megumi did their best to listen in.

“Just try not to knock me out this time!” Panda said through his laughter.

Was he throwing the fight? Megumi didn’t quite understand the context to this statement.

“Last time they didn’t bother to move me off the ring, I slept here all night!” Panda continued, his laughing ceasing as he took on an irritated tone. “Ruined my back!”

His opponent only laughed. Something feminine and twisted, but undoubtedly genuine.

Megumi’s heart plummeted to his stomach. He recognized that sound.

When Panda’s body was knocked back into the chains of the ring from a swift but heavy kick to the chest, his opponent was finally made visible.

A girl. Not that girls couldn’t fight, but this particular girl had a cutthroat attitude when it came to fistfighting a bear. It seemed every swing of her arms as she landed hit after hit on him grew faster in speed. Half of her face was covered with a black mask, but the bloodied grin on her face was that of someone who believed they couldn’t possibly lose, no matter what beast of an opponent they might face.

Recognition flashed in Megumi’s face, making him go pale as he watched her strike two blows to Panda’s jaw so quickly it had to have given him whiplash, sending his furry head back and forth with such great force.

If Panda was throwing the fight, it didn’t really look like it. He blocked a hit here and there with his massive paws, but she always seemed to move quicker to outsmart him. Ducking and weaving around him with graceful feet and agile movements to keep herself from getting caught by him again. Clearly she’d learned a lesson when he’d been throwing her around earlier.

When Panda did try to land a hit on her again, she grabbed his large wrist in one hand, still grinning as she used the momentum of his swing to swing herself forward and kick her feet into his chest.

The first from the right foot, directly against his ribcage, knocking all wind out of him.

The crowd began to go wild, anticipating something Megumi hadn’t caught onto yet.

The second from the left foot, kicking lower against his stomach, making him curl over and heave.

But before he could catch his breath or clutch his stomach, she struck with her right foot again.

The third and final blow came with a shock of blue energy, an abundant amount of cursed energy striking him in the chest so hard it sent him a few feet backwards, crashing into the chains and crumpling to the mat in a heap of black and white.

It was undoubtedly Black Flash.

She didn’t taunt him as the referee began his countdown before calling a knock out and declaring her a winner. She didn’t strut around or try to rile up her fans in the crowd. Not that she needed to, the people around Megumi and Yuuji were clawing at their own faces in astonishment from watching her take her opponent down with ease and showmanship.

And when the match was officially over and the announcer was hyping the crowd up for the next fight over the intercom, she slid out of the ring and left the area without so much as a wave. It took a few minutes for Panda to get up, but eventually he was sauntering his way out of the ring too, waving to the few people who were his diehard fans and didn’t take his defeat tonight as anything more than some bad luck.

“Come on” Megumi beckoned Yuuji to follow him, his feet already moving as fast as they could take him through the mob, struggling to follow the exact direction that Panda and his opponent before him had gone.

Yuuji kept up fairly well, but Megumi wouldn’t have noticed. He was driven forward by absolute panic, his heart racing in his chest with a feeling he’d thought he’d relinquished days ago when he’d tried to stop living in denial.

But he couldn’t get the image of that girl out of his mind. She was so… he couldn’t get his hopes up. Her laugh was so familiar he couldn’t have possibly mistaken it for someone else's… he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Yo! Panda!”

Eventually the crowd thinned out enough that Yuuji tried using the power of his loud holler to get their friend’s attention. Panda perked up immediately, spinning around and searching the crowd for the familiar voice. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the waving boy with the unmistakable head of pink hair. He grinned, and his ears twitched a bit as he turned completely and began to make his way towards the pair.

“Itadori!” He beams wider as he reaches them, as if they could have turned out to be figments of his imagination. “Fushiguro!”

He hugs them both at once before either could protest.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Did you come to see me fight?” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head before they could even say anything. “Really though, what are you doing here? It’s not as fun as it looks, y’know”

“We’re looking to talk to Hakari-”

“Who was that with you?” Megumi speaks up before Yuuji could begin his explanation.

Yuuji turns to him with a confused look, which Panda shares for a moment, before he chuckles.

“She went down that way,” He said, pointing behind him in the direction he’d been heading. “(y/n/n) always ditches fights fast. Hates the crowd, I guess. Not me, I love the-”

“Wait, (y/n/n)?” Yuuji repeats the semi-familiar nickname, his jaw going slack and his eyes widening.

He turns to share a look with Megumi, but it seemed the raven haired boy was already processing just whose nickname that could’ve been. His face was flushed so pale he looked sick.

“As in (y/n)-(y/n/n)?” Yuuji continues.

“Yeah,” Panda nods affirmatively, not understanding just how devastating his casual response was for the younger sorcerers in front of him. “She’s-”

“She’s alive?” Megumi finally speaks.

His voice is hardly above a whisper, but the words are like a dropping bomb. Clear, and unmistakable.

Panda blinks in shock, his features contorting in realization as he looks between his two friends. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know where to start.

So he nods his head, and turns to point down the corridor he’d been heading once more.

He gives them specific directions to where she’d been likely to go. Megumi listens but doesn’t quite hear a thing he’s saying. His heart is pounding in his ears, his body is going hot, and even once his feet are moving on their own accord- apparently having understood the directions just fine without his ears- he frets that he might break down into a panic attack if he’s not quick enough.

The warning signs are there, the labored breaths, the hot and cold flashes in quick succession, his blurring vision- but he ignores all of it, racing through what was left of the crowd to slip into the near empty corridor. Yuuji is hot on his tail as they dart through, eyes moving in all directions at every doorway and passerby, just to be sure that they wouldn’t miss her.

“(y/n)?”

Her name leaves his mouth in a strangled choke of syllables, as though it were his first time speaking in months.

She hadn’t been facing his direction, her hand still on the handle of the door she was about to open. Her movements had been rushed, like she were hoping to sneak into the room and lock the door behind her as quickly as possible.

But now, as her hand stilled and a chill shot up her spine at the familiar voice, her movements were far too slow as she turned towards the owner of said voice.

Megumi and Yuuji are standing a few feet down the hall, their heavy footsteps having skid to a stop when they finally did see her. She’s closer to them now than she had been in the ring, and although she still wore the mask, she was far more recognizable now.

Her hand trembles as she raises a hand to her head, pulling at the black material of her mask until it gives way, sliding off her head and pooling in the palm of her hand, revealing her face completely now.

Her eyes were wide as they moved between Yuuji and Megumi slowly, disbelief written in her features from the way her brows drew together, to the part in her lips but no words coming out, to the way her eyes began to water as they snapped back into reality and began to move closer to her.

“Megumi?” She drops his name in a mumble, barely audible even to herself, but seeing him here, right now, has her in such a state of shock that she could have believed Panda threw her around too rough and now she was experiencing delusions.

But then she’s moving too, her feet shuffling at first before picking up pace and running towards them once she’s close enough that she didn’t even need to.

“(y/n)!” Yuuji cheers when they’re huddled close together again.

“Yuuji!” She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight, rocking back and forth in bliss upon seeing her beloved friend safe and before her now.

When they part, Megumi still hasn’t figured out what it is he should even say. He doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and suddenly feels so anxious he worries he might throw up. To his luck, (y/n) acts before he has to, and she’s giving him the same warm welcome.

Her arms are tight around his shoulders, and her fingers curl into the material at the back of his uniform jacket. She gathers the fabric in her fists, making sure that he won’t pull away until she’s squeezed every bit of comfort out of his embrace as possible.

And to her surprise, he returns to affection with more force than she would’ve thought. One arm around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest, the other laying upwards against her spine so that he could bury his hand in her hair and cradle her head close to him. He’s shaking, she can feel it, and she pushes closer until her face is buried against his shoulder, hoping to ease his panic.

“We- I thought-” He gasps between struggling breaths, and she’s never heard him sound so broken. He drops his head so his lips hover over her ear when he finds his voice again. “I thought you were dead”

Her heart spikes with an odd feeling, and she squeezes him a little harder before pulling back.

“Alive as ever” She says with a weak smile and an awkward shrug of her shoulders.

Megumi has to shove his hands into his pockets to hide their obvious trembling. The rush of adrenaline in his system hadn’t quite worn off yet, and at this rate he wasn’t sure that it would.

“Well what happened?” Yuuji asked. “How’d you end up here?”

She lets out a humorless chuckle before wincing.

“It’s… it’s not an interesting story,” She explains, then beckons with her hand to have them follow her back to her door. “Here, I sorta have my own space, if you want to come in I can tell you about it, and then you can tell me what you’re doing here, too”

Yuuji begins a long winded rant right away. He tells her all about meeting Yuuta and dying again, and despite Megumi sending him a dirty look for going into too much depth about the parts that didn’t matter as much, (y/n) was an attentive listener, taking in every detail and asking him questions, too. A lot about Yuuta, seeing as she hadn’t crossed paths with him in months, it was good to know he was still out there and on their side. Yuuji continued on about the culling games, and how they had come here originally looking for Hakari.

“But then we found you and Panda- hey wait, do you know Hakari?” Yuuji asked excitedly. “Maybe you could talk to him for us-!”

Her eyes widen with uncertainty, a nervous smile stretching over her lips as she shakes her head quickly.

“I- I don’t know about that,” She tells him. “He doesn’t really come out much, I think I’ve seen him once since getting here. I wasn’t exactly trying to get on his radar. He doesn’t love those affiliated with Jujutsu Tech, you know”

“What? Why! He must like you, your fight was very entertaining!” Yuuji gushes. Megumi sends him another look that he ignores. “And you mastered Black Flash! He’s got to be interested in- ow!”

Megumi smacked his hand upside the back of Yuuji’s head, making sure this time that he didn’t miss the look he was giving him. His displeasure wasn’t exactly subtle. (y/n) laughed through her nose at the pair that hadn’t seemed to change too much in their time apart.

Besides the fact that Yuuji had a few more scars on his face. And Megumi looked like he had lost a bit of weight. Besides that, their demeanors hadn’t changed one bit. For a second at a time, she could pretend things were normal again.

“Go find Panda and tell him our plan,” Megumi orders gruffly. “See if he has any ideas on how to get Hakari to see us”

“What? But-!”

Megumi widened his eyes, silently telling Yuuji to go. The pink haired boy huffed, but stood from his seat on the floor and shuffled towards the door.

“And keep a low profile!” Megumi called, only for Yuuji to wave him off nonchalantly before shutting the door behind him.

(y/n) chuckled when it was just the two of them, turning to face him again.

“So,” She breathes out a heavier exhale than she’d expected. “How’s he really holding up?”

“How you’d expect,” Megumi replies honestly. “It was really rough for a while. We all were… pretty messed up. Still are, I guess”

(y/n) frowns.

“Yeah,” She mumbles. “Shibuya… was…” She drops her head before she could finish her thought. There wasn’t a word strong enough to explain the devastation of the incident.

Megumi’s fingers begin to twitch, fiddling and locking together as he thought over what he wanted to say next.

“Look, before we…” He starts, but loses momentum quickly. He clears his throat to try again. “When I last saw you, I-”

“It’s okay,” (y/n) cuts him off before he could say anything more. The face he makes is uncertain, and she gives him a nod as she repeats herself. “Really, Megumi, it’s okay. It was just a fight, it didn’t mean anything”

“But I-” He starts, only for her to shake her head again. “But it did mean something” He argues.

“We fought a lot, Megumi,” (y/n) chuckles. “Trust me, if I was holding onto resentment over every time we ever argued, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now”

“No- not like that,” Megumi shakes his head. “It meant something because you left and I- I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, (y/n),” His voice holds a grave tone that has her kind smile faltering and her brows pinching together as she watches him. “Yuuji said he lost track of you when you were dealing with all the transfigured humans and- and then you were just gone”

(y/n) blinks, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she realizes just how long it had been since they’d seen each other. How long he must’ve carried around guilt and grief over her. It makes her heart sink, and she shuffles forward on her knees to sit closer to him.

“I got dragged out of the train station pretty quick,” She tells him. “There were so many of… them… and I knew that I was worrying Yuuji while exorcizing them. Cause- cause it didn’t feel like exorcizing,”

Megumi nods, recalling how Yuuji had told him she’d been crying during the whole ordeal, something quite out of character for her. Even now as her eyes begin to tear up, the sight is alarming.

“It felt like… like killing,” She whispers. “So I started leading them away and got outnumbered and got dragged out further. By the time I… once they were all gone, I was out of it. I must’ve passed out or something, because when I came to, Shibuya was… gone. I tried finding you- I tried finding anyone-” She tries to catch her wording, but she’s not quick enough. “But it was just rubble and dust. It was nothing. After a while of trying to find somewhere to land to… to rest and regain some strength, I found this place and Panda with it and I just… stayed. It sort of started to feel like this is all that was left,”

She lets out a shaky sigh, rubbing her clammy hands over her thighs to relieve some of the stress building up in her body. It doesn’t do much, but she continues the action a few more times.

“You know, I didn’t necessarily think I’d ever see you again, either,” Her eyes are downcast as she speaks. “For a while I wondered, um, if you’d show up here…”

“Sorry it took so long,” Megumi replies quietly. She lets out a short, watery chuckle. “But we’re here now,” He adds, moving closer to her, until she looks up at him, surprised by the sudden close proximity. Her eyes are wide as they flicker quickly over his face, trying to read his expression.

It was a new one for Megumi, one she’s not sure she’s ever seen on him before. Except maybe the night in the infirmary, when he’d stitched up her arm. Her face feels warm, and she can’t decide if it’s because of the memory, or if it’s because of how close he is to her.

“And I’m not going anywhere without you” He tells her. His voice is low, but instinctively, she doesn’t feel a shroud of doubt in his words.

She blinks to try to rid the tears from her eyes, but after reliving the last week and a half, and reuniting with the people she’d been naively hoping were just missing and not gone was starting to get on top of her. She’d spent quite some time shoving down bitter thoughts and choosing to stay in denial. As long as she focused on her matches and made enough of an earning to have a place to crash, she tried to stay as blissfully ignorant as possible.

Still, there had been a few sleepless nights when she’d wander outside and try to find a few constellations in the sky, or when she’d lay wide awake and let the tip of her finger trace over the perfectly straight scar on her shoulder.

“Really?”

The question comes out with a shaky breath. She held no uncertainty in him, Megumi was a man who was always true to his word, but reality was beginning to settle in and the urge to hold on to him and never let go was growing stronger.

Megumi nods, clearly amused that she even had to ask. It felt like the first time in a long time that a smile began to twitch on his lips, the muscle feeling awkward from underuse. His eyes gleam as he reiterates his intentions.

“We’re not splitting up again,” He tells her, a weight hanging on to each word. His eyes move between hers, and when she blinks, a tear sticks to her lashes. “I’m not losing you again” He adds in a smaller voice.

A choked sound that almost sounded like a laugh comes out of her as she nods back at him, shaky and fast. For once, agreeing with him completely.

To (y/n), there had always been something about Megumi that drew her to him. He was easy to pick on, easy to tease and laugh at. She found joy in their banter, even when it was less petty and more serious, there was a magnetic spark between them that she just couldn’t deny. She’d tried to explore that feeling, before Shibuya. But she’d never known how exactly to approach it, always becoming apprehensive of the foreign feeling.

Now, it felt so easy to jump into the unknown territory that she felt silly for never having worked up the courage to do so before. The fear of losing someone she cared so much about was too great, and there was no time to waste.

Her tear dropped onto her cheek, the fat droplet rolling slowly across her skin until it dipped into the edge of her wobbly smile. A few more followed shortly after, unable to be stopped no matter how hard she willed herself not to cry.

Just as she raised the back of her hand to hastily rub the wetness away, Megumi beat her to it, moving closer to her as both hands worked softly to catch each tear. They were cold against the hot wet skin, just as she’d remembered, and she found herself shutting her eyes and leaning into how comforting they felt. The tears didn’t stop, but she didn’t seem to be in any anguish.

“I’m not losing you again either,” She whispers, her fingers skimming over his wrist before she clasps her hand around it, making sure he doesn’t pull away just yet. “I- I can’t” The words come out in a small whimper.

Megumi nods in understanding. His thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, and softly under her eyes, trying to catch every last tear.

“I know,” He says softly, still nodding as his eyes wander her features, making sure there weren’t any lingering tears he’d missed. “I know, and you won’t, ‘m not goin’ anywhere”

When their eyes lock again, she’s overwhelmed by an influx of emotion. An eagerness to have him back by her side, a desire to keep him there next to her and never let him go, to never let anything take him away again.

“Listen, ‘gumi, I-” She tries to put words to the feeling, wanting to explain to him that having him here with her was sending her heart into orbit, wanting to tell him that knowing he was alive and he was okay was the first time she’d felt happiness in what seemed like weeks.

But the words are too difficult. They’re too big and they get caught in her throat. Rather than try to force them out, she acts on it instead.

Megumi anticipates the movement before she leans forward, catching the way her eyes rapidly shift between his and his mouth. He reciprocates the look, curious to see if it meant what he’d thought it did, but just as quickly as his eyes land on her parted lips, she’s shooting forward and pressing them against his.

It’s a rushed kiss at first, full of anxiety and grief that hadn’t fully been relieved yet. It’s messy lips and clashing teeth, but once they both realize that whatever this feeling was, it was reciprocated, they relaxed.

Megumi sighs through his nose as he cups her cheeks and keeps her close, kissing her a little more softly, a little more deliberate in his need to display to her just how much he’d missed her. In turn, (y/n’s) hands rest against his shoulders, squeezing just firm enough that he could feel her there, without being too aggressive.

Kissing her like his life depended on it made him feel like everything could turn out alright now that she was with him again. Now that he was sure she was here, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and her soft breaths against his cheek, Megumi thinks his life had depended on this.

Up until about an hour ago he’d been mentally checked out since Shibuya. Seeing her again brought him back a sense of purpose he hadn’t even really noticed he’d been losing.

Her hands are gentle when they card into his hair, combing softly through the dark locks that seemed a little longer since the last time she’d seen him. He sighed at the sensation, unintentionally breaking their kiss.

The tips of his hair tickle her skin as his forehead drops to rest against hers. (y/n) lets out a soft, breathless giggle before opening her eyes.

He’s smiling at her. So full of delight that his blue eyes seem to gleam, and they’re crinkled at their corners. She can’t help but smile back at him, her heart full and her face warm, even with his cool hands still holding it.

Megumi moves then, fingers catching a loose strand of hair. He twirls it thoughtfully for a moment before tucking it behind her ear carefully, and laying his palm across her cheek again. His long fingers splay out, wanting to touch as much of her as he possibly can, just to keep sure that she really is in front of him.

“No more runnin’ off, alright?” He murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing hers.

Her hands latch behind his neck, her focus on his lips as she thinks about kissing him again. They linger there for a moment before shyly meeting his gaze again.

“Don’t let me go again”

He shakes his head, a silent vow to never do anything to push her away again, and even if he fails to keep her by his side, he swears he’d follow her, wherever she may go.

With his eyes falling shut he leans in again, lips grazing hers as he speaks.

“I won’t,” He murmurs, and then once more before he seals their lips again. “I won’t”

She could never part from him again. She loved him too much to even conceive the idea. What was next to come would be difficult, she may not have known Hakari very well personally, but she knew enough to be anxious about approaching him. He was a bit of a loose cannon. However she was sure that with Megumi- and Yuuji and Panda of course- they would come up with the right plan of action to gain his help.

With needy hands and a needier heart she clings to him now, just to be sure that she could never look back and regret not holding onto him tight enough. He does the same, dropping his hands to circle his arms around her waist and pull her in impossibly close to him.

Whatever it took, he’d keep hold of her for the rest of their lives. Nothing could ever take her from him again as long as she was right there in his arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i got you where i want you // you did it, i never // i’m falling for forever ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi #fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro friends to lovers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #megumi brainrot

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clockwayswrites · 1 month

Text

We Will Mend

*whistles innocently*

Part... 1?

Puck = Danny

CW: Under negotiated kink, mild choking

“What?” Jason asked, the question harsh through the modulation of the helmet.

Puck just tilted his head a little. The white hair was finally long enough to move slightly with the motion.

“I’m not a fucking piece of art, stop staring.”

Puck snorted and stepped in enough to close and lock the door. “You’re a masterpiece, Boss, don’t let them say otherwise.”

“Did you hit your head again?” Jason asked. He knew it was unkind to point out the scar that still showed fresh and pink through the covering of white hair, but he wasn’t feeling kind right then.

“Didn’t hit it the first time,” Puck said, apparently undeterred by Jason’s harsh tone.

He crossed the room, silent in his steps even though the floor was designed to make noise. Jason would have to do something better. For the moment though, he let Puck work to pull him and the heavy oak chair back from his desk.

Then he watched Puck make neat piles of the mess of papers and files and set them aside crossing each other off to the side. Puck turned and hopped up onto the desk, sitting where Jason’s pile of infuriating work had been. He had to get the rights for the new building transferred over properly and then get—

“Fuck me.”

Jason’s planning screeched to a halt like one of the trams derailing dramatically off an elevated T-line— fiery explosion of the cars below and all.

“What?”

“Fuck me,” Puck repeated like the request wasn’t completely insane. “You’re stressed, but you’re so stressed that you won’t fight someone because you’re afraid of going too far. So fuck me. Get it out of your system. I can take the bruises.”

“You can take the bruises,” Jason repeated incredulously.

“Yes. And I think you need to give them,” Puck said. “It’s why you don’t ever go to a prostitute, you’re worried about ruining your good reputation with them. You can’t have anyone at home either, there’s no way they would put up with the hours you work. But I’m already here and willing. You take care of me so let me take care of you.”

Jason was quite for a long moment, not sure of what to say. The best he could come up with is, “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, probably. It comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m offering,” Puck said with a little shrug. He braced his hands and leaned back, making his body one long line.

There was no denying that Puck was attractive. He was a slight thing, sure, but it was all muscles and scars. He didn’t try to hide the scars away either. His arms and half his sides were bare in the muscle tee that Puck wore. Scars of all sorts crossed his skin, telling a story that Jason tried not to read.

In one fluid motion, Jason shot up from his chair and leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Puck’s thighs. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Puck met the dark lenses of the helmet without flinching. “I’m asking you to fuck me already. Mark me up. Make a mess of me. Use me. Just get the fuck on—”

The words cut off sharply as Jason wrapped a hand around Puck’s throat and squeezed just enough for it to be uncomfortable. Jason could feel Puck swallow, but didn’t have too much time to think on it with how Puck strained against the hand so that he could wrap his leg’s around Jason’s waist and pull.

“There,” Puck whispered throat bobbing against Jason’s fingers, “isn’t that better? Doesn’t it feel good to let loose?”

The worst of it was that it did feel better— that Puck was right. Something dangerous and hungry stirred low in Jason’s gut as he watched Puck arched like that under his hand.

“I can take the bruises.”

Jason hoped Puck was right.

#dp x dc #dead on main

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crowsoundsonly · 7 months

Text

Don't Stop

pair: the Darkling x fem!reader

word count: ~3k

summary: general kirigan discovers just how touch starved you are in a sparring session.

warnings: lite semi smut, essentially a thigh kink...., a touch of self-conscious reader with moments of poor self-esteem, kind of ooc!darkling at the end, but i'm not mad about it.

a/n: hej guys !! this is the first fic that i'm posting on this blog, so i hope you like it !!

You know you are not alone in your fascination with the Darkling, making the fact that you watch him more than you should more of a problem than it should be. You hear the whispers among the other Grisha about his appearance, his power, his mystery, and you can’t help but to fall into the trap. He never pays you any attention, and why should he? You never considered yourself the prettiest, the strongest, or the best, especially when it comes to the Small Science. Grisha you are, but exceptional you are not.

...

“Again,” Botkin calls to you, instructing you to run the training course around the courtyard and into the forest for the third time today. With only a nod, you obey and take off running, praying that this will be the final time.

You concentrate on your breathing, keeping it at a steady rhythm as you pass through the courtyard, glancing quickly at Botkin watching the other Grisha spar in the middle. The path into the forest is all too familiar, the ground becoming uneven with unearthed roots and rocks. You quickly slip into the world of your thoughts which is dangerously full of General Kirigan.

Lost in yourself, you fail to notice the ground becoming stone under your feet. You skim the shoulder of someone as you round the corner of the last hall before you return to Botkin at the start, sprinting the final stretch. Your combat instructor is waiting for you, his arms crossed before him, standing beside the Darkling himself.

Your heart seemingly beats faster; not due to the three mile run you just completed, but for fear and anticipation of what these men have in store for you. Halting before them, you quiet your breathing, willing your heart to slow down enough so you can get a word out without panting.

“This is her?” General Kirigan asks in a tone that can only be described as nonplussed, his eyes surveying you carefully.

“Yes, sir,” Botkin nods.

A hum, then a reply that makes you even more apprehensive than before, “She’ll do.”

“Do what?” you blurt, then recover yourself by finishing, “If I may ask.” You know you should hold your tongue, but the words are spoken before you can tie them down. Eyes expectantly watch the General as the corners of his lips twitch up slightly at your question.

“Fight.”

Before you can register the word, you are grabbed by the arm and led by General Kirigan to the sparring circle in the middle of the courtyard. Every sense you have is trained on the General’s hand on your body, on the grip he has around your arm. As quickly as you were snatched, you are released and left alone in the middle of the ring.

Luckily, many of the Grisha have already completed their training, so you are unhindered by too many eyes watching the commotion. Still, enough gather around to get your blood to sound in your ears. You stand, eyes darting around in an attempt to puzzle together what is happening to you.

“Who am I fighting, sir?” you ask tentatively.

A smirk pulls at the General’s mouth before he simply says, “Me.”

Your brain comes to a halt. Then goes into overdrive. You cannot possibly fight the Darkling, the most feared man in the country. You are a mediocre fighter at best who can barely fight Grisha of her own level. The Darkling is going to beat you to a pulp if he shows any self control.

General Kirigan humorously watches your panic as he shrugs off his kefta, seemingly enjoying the terrified look on your face. You take short breaths in an attempt to get your adrenaline pumping enough so the pain will be less intense. You have no doubt that the Darkling will land every harrowing jab he throws.

“Are you ready?” he asks with more intensity than you think necessary. A simple nod from you is enough for him to begin.

He approaches you quickly, immediately on the offense. A few quick lunges and carefully placed hits graze off of your defensive positions until the last blow of the round finds its place under your rib cage. Your heart hammers against your chest, your focus completely intent on shielding yourself from his attacks that come too swiftly to keep up.

General Kirigan begins stepping around you, his feet becoming involved with the spar, leaving you with another source of attacks to defend. You are successful at first but within three steps, you are grabbed by the waist and pinned to the ground, the Darkling holding you down with his thigh locked through yours. Your nose is pressed to his chest, breaths heaving in and out of your mouth.

You feel every place the Darkling touches you. The cool metal of his belt buckle brushes against the exposed strip of skin above your pants. One of his hands grips your wrists that scratch against the dirt above your head. His thigh presses the inside of yours, dangerously close to your core as his hips shift ever so slightly against your stomach. Your body responds involuntarily to the position, moving closer to his thigh before you regain control over yourself.

A small chuckle sounds from General Kirigan who stares at you from above.

“How long has it been since someone touched you like this?” he whispers before abruptly standing up, his knee grazing your core as he moves.

He reaches out a hand to assist you, and you take it, nerves igniting in your stomach as his hand grasps yours and pulls you off of the ground.

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you are on your feet.

“Thank you,” the General replies before bowing, whispering your name as he gathers his kefta and waves to Botkin.

You watch him leave in complete disbelief. He took you down with ease, so you should be much more embarrassed by that, but you are too possessed by the feeling of him to care.

...

You thought little of anything other than the moment you had had with General Kirigan. The reason Botkin had chosen you to spar with the Darkling when there were other, more impressive Grisha training at the same time you were has escaped you, and you doubt that you will ever understand. A repeat performance has not happened, and you don’t expect it to. Your life continues as usual, other than the occasional whisper about the fight muttered between Grisha over dinner plates.

...

Picking at the herring in front of you, you feel the hair at the back of your neck prickle, followed by goosebumps rippling over skin under your kefta. Your eyes dart from one face at the table to another, attempting to find the eyes that watch you. The effort is fruitless, and the feeling fades as quickly as you noticed it.

Subconsciously, you glance at the Darkling sitting at the head of the table. It is a luxury to see him at dinner as he is always far too busy to dine with the other Grisha. He sits tall, his features sharp yet bleary with disinterest. You wonder if he has always looked as he does now: a man who knows the world’s cruelty and the bitterness of time. His hand wrapped around his fork holds your stare as you recall the feeling of those same fingers around your wrists, imagining what they would feel like in other places. You catch yourself falling down the rabbit hole of General Kirigan, so you force the last few bites of fish down before sneaking away from the dinner table to bury your thoughts in the shelves of the library.

...

The Darkling watches you quietly excuse yourself from the table and slip into the hallway. He had been watching you during dinner, taking in the way you scrunch your nose at every forkful of herring and smile pleasantly after each bite. He felt your eyes find him as he sat, listening to his Grisha argue. You look at him a lot, no more than the other girls, surely, but the General has started to take notice of you everywhere. He finds you in the hallways, always bowing to him respectfully.

At night, for reasons unknown to him, he thinks of the way your body responded to his, how your hips sought out his thigh and the feeling of your breath erratically hitting his chest. No one has responded to him the way you have in a long time, and he thinks he wants to feel it again.

After dinner is through, he strides through the Little Palace, intent on escaping his duties for the night. He has had enough of the country’s and his Grishas’ troubles, so he heads to the stables for a late night ride alone. Swiftly moving down the hallway, he notices a thin stream of light spilling out from under a library door. Rarely do the Grisha study at this time of night, as they are usually causing trouble in efforts to impress their classmates. And if they are studying, it is never in this library - the small one that often smells of spores due to the age of the books that are somehow always damp.

He pauses for a moment, considering entering the room to find who is in there, but decides against it. He begins to walk away, only to stop after a few steps to satisfy his curiosity. Opening the door, he finds a form laying on the couch with the light dimly glowing from the candle in the corner. Whoever it is doesn't notice him as they do not move from their place.

General Kirigan walks further into the library and finds that it is you on the couch. The book you were reading is on the floor with its pages bent at awkward angles. You have your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, almost as if you were comforting yourself, providing yourself with the touch you crave from others.

The jab he made about being touched while you were pinned under him begins to echo in his mind, coming to realize that his question was a legitimate one.

Silently, General Kirigan strides to you, crouching in front of your sleeping form. A hand comes to ghost over the side of your face before he can stop himself. Your eyes flutter open, blinking blearily. When the sight before you comes into focus, you sit upright quickly, causing the Darkling to retract his hand from your face.

“Sir,” you start, but he waves his hand to cut you off.

“Follow me,” he says, standing from his crouched position and striding to the door with only a single glance behind him. Wordlessly, you get up and walk behind the general, wondering what he could possibly want.

Your nerves tingle with anxiety and surprisingly with excitement. You have wanted his attention, and here he is, finally giving it to you. Whether this is a good thing or not, you haven’t decided.

Suddenly, General Kirigan comes to an abrupt halt before turning sharply and opening the door to your right. He slips in quietly, and you follow him into the room, discovering that it is a bedroom. A large four poster bed with black satin sheets stands in the middle of the room, clouding your mind with the images of the fantasies you have dreamed up at night, and your neck heats at the indecency of your thoughts.

“I am going to be honest with you, and I ask that you do the same,” the general says as he stands in front of the bed, his focus completely on you.

You nod in agreement, nervousness forming a pit in your stomach.

“You have monopolized my thoughts. I have seen the way you look at me, and it has led me to believe that you will not object to what I have in mind. Now, I want to ask you again. When was the last time,” he takes a step in your direction, leaving no more than a meter between you, “someone,” another step, “touched you like I did?”

By the end of his question, he is standing directly in front of you, his eyes locked with yours. You want to tear your eyes away, but you find yourself unable to do so. Your body is hot, embarrassment flooding your veins, but somehow, you are not bothered by it. He prefaced his question with candor, and you want to do the same.

“Never, sir,” you whisper, providing him the honesty you promised.

A small smile pushes his lips up as he reaches a hand to tilt your chin. His hand drops slowly to your throat when he whispers, “Would you like me to do it again?”

“Yes, sir.”

The general makes no sudden movements and without any urgency, puts his hands on your waist and pulls you to his body. You take the necessary step forward to have your stomach flush to his. His hand finds its place at the small of your back, the other pushing a strand of your hair out of your face.

Your hands stay by your sides, unsure as to where to put them. He notices and moves to grab them, bringing them around his neck. His hands slide down your arms as they come around your waist, his fingertips pressing into your hips.

His eyes never leave yours as he leans down to whisper into your mouth, “Tell me when to stop.”

You nod, almost imperceptibly, but it is enough confirmation for him to close the gap between your lips. A breath flutters in through your nose, the sound of your nerves causing him to smile against your lips. He kisses you slowly and surely. He does not rush into your mouth, keeping his kisses languid and smooth, each one flowing into the next.

Slotting his thigh between yours, he pushes himself closer to you, the feeling of his leg pressed to the inside of yours inciting warmth to seep into your core. Your hips move upon their own accord, rocking to find his thigh like they did when you sparred. Your breath hitches, and you pull away to look at him, embarrassment creeping up your neck as every part of you starts prickling with heat.

The almost triumphant look on his face leaves you breathless and sweeps away your embarrassment. “Does it feel just as good this time?”

“Yes,” you breathe, closing your eyes as he meets your lips again.

The kisses come a little quicker now as his hands remove your kefta from your shoulders. You help him push off his own, unbuckling and untying shirts as you go.

“Will you lay down for me?” he asks as he gently guides you to the bed behind him, kissing you once along the way. “That’s a good girl.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your mind unsure, but your body craves the feeling of everything he is so willingly offering. Black sheets engulf you as you lay back on his bed, your dress falling up your thighs. He removes the shoes from your feet and kisses a trail up your calves. You can’t help the sighs that escape your lips as your eyes slip closed.

“Look at me,” General Kirigan says, breathing your name against your knees. You watch him slide his hands up your legs, your sides, skimming your chest before resting them beside your head. “When was the last time someone touched you like this?”

You look right into his eyes and whisper, “Never.”

Your response elicits a smile from him before he captures your lips again, moving his thigh to press into your core. You gasp and keen into him, your chests pressing together. The feeling of him between your thighs has pressure building in your stomach, the muscles below your navel tight with anticipation. One of his hands comes to rest on your stomach, teasing you and causing you to jolt beneath him, your hips pressing further into him in response.

His thumb begins to caress the skin just above your panty line, and this causes the fire in your core to burn hotter than you have ever felt. He begins to help you rock into him, finding a rhythm that makes you whimper and kiss him harder.

Suddenly and without warning, his hand is out from under your dress and his thigh is absent from between yours. Your eyes fly open, thinking that he has had enough, and your heart leaps into your throat.

What you see leaves your heart pounding in your ears but not out of concern. He is sitting on his heels, looking down at you in what could only be interpreted as awe.

His eyebrows are high and his lips are slightly parted as he leans back down, not touching any part of you but with his lips. He kisses your neck, your throat, your collarbones with his hands bracing him beside you. The lack of contact anywhere else on your body has you reaching out and pulling his hips to yours, the feeling of his pants on the inside of your thighs making you tingle and clench your legs around his.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers again against the column of your throat, reminding you that you are in control. Everything is a new land yet to be discovered, and you are enjoying every moment of exploration.

“Please,” you breathe. “Don’t stop.”

a/n: yay !! thanks for making it through !! let me know if you want to be on my taglist :) check out MY SLEEPOVER going on right now !!

#shadow and bone #the darkling x reader #the darkling #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #ben barnes #grishaverse

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danikamariewrites · 23 days

Text

Watch Your Step

Feysand x reader

A/n: happy day 2 and another Feysand fic! Comfort fics are some of my favorites especially for Rhys. Some of my favorite moments with him and Feyre are in ACOWAR and he’s just doting on her. @polyacotarweek

Warnings: descriptions on injuries and comfort

“Nyx, slow down!” You yelled over the little boy's screeches and giggles as he ran through the upstairs hall. You held your dress above your calves, feet carrying you quickly.

You jumped toys littered across the carpet. Sighing mentally you make a note to have the boy clean up his toys. “Bet ya can’t catch me mom!” He giggled, disappearing around the corner. “No running on the stairs young man!” He giggled again as you heard the sound of winnowing. You came to a halt. The three of you knew Nyx’s powers were developing. He could finally hide his wings on command like Rhys. But winnowing was very new.

The first time he winnowed he had taken Rhys with him. Ending up outside the Winter Court palace wanting to see his friend, the Princess of Winter. To know he could winnow so far at such a young age was impressive but terrifying.

Your thoughts raced you began sprinting for the stairs. Praying to the Cauldron your little boy was only downstairs and not somewhere unknown.

Not keeping your eyes on the ground you completely missed the pair of toy swords in a small wagon on the first step. Your bare foot landed right on the center of the wooden toys, splintering them in half. Not even getting a chance to right yourself your other foot stays suspended in midair as the wagon moves across the stair.

Your ankle turns and you feel something pop. Falling down the stairs backwards you let out a scream. You try to grab hold of the banister to slow down, your fingers screaming in protest. You hit the curved landing hard. Rolling to a stop thanks to the wall.

Thanks to the pain numbing your body and ringing ears you didn’t hear Nyx scream for you. Or the multiple pairs of feet thundering to get to you as quickly as possible.

Groaning, you roll over onto your back, trying to keep your breathing steady. You keep your eyes screwed shut at the pain still coursing through your bones.

Nyx was now sitting next to you. A little hand on your face to comfort you. “Like mommy and daddy do for you,” he said once.

“I’m ok buddy, I’m ok.” You manage through gritted teeth. Opening your eyes you smile up at him. Panic on his little features. “See, mom’s ok. Just a little fall.”

Nesta and Azriel are first to arrive, Rhys and Feyre looking destressed right behind them. Nesta quickly gathers Nyx in her arms much to the boys dismay. He starts fidgeting wildly in his aunts arms fighting to get back to you.

Before he can be told to Az winnows away to get Madja. Rhys scoops you into his arms making his way to the bedroom quickly. Feyre prepares you a spot, fluffing your pillow as Rhys set you down gently.

“Questions later. I don’t want stress her out and add to her pain.” Rhys says into Feyre’s mind. He looks back at his mate to see silver lining her eyes. Her hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. “It’s ok angel, we’re here.” Feyre whispered softly. You squeezed her hand in response. The both of them could feel your pain through the bond and it was breaking their hearts.

Madja came bustling in as quickly as possible leaving Azriel to linger in the doorway. The old healer shoos your mates away, “I can’t work with you two breathing down my neck. Go with the Shadowsinger. I’ll come get you once she’s patched up.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. They’re hesitant to leave you but know it’s for the best.

An hour later Madja had left you with your ankle wrapped and strict bed rest orders which Feyre and Rhys took very seriously. For the next week your mates kept a close eye on you, not letting you move an inch.

“I still think you should keep your ankle elevated, my love.” Feyre sweetly chastises you a few days later. You roll your eyes as she puts the lunch tray down to fluff the throw pillow you abandoned a half hour ago.

“I’m fine, Fey. Besides, it’s practically healed.” She hummed, raising a brow at you, gently placing your foot on the pillow. “You want to tell Rhys that?” You sigh, dropping your head against the headboard.

Rhys has been worse than normal. Maybe because it was the worst at home injury any of you had sustained. He wouldn’t even let you sleep in the middle of the bed like usual. Rhys insisted you take his side while he slept in the middle so it would be easier to carry you out of bed.

Feyre placed the tray on your lap as she settled next to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your delicately pointed ear. “How are you feeling?” She asks softly.

“Better. The pain in my side is gone and my head is fine, the only problem is the pain in my ankle.” Feyre hums looking back at your bandaged ankle. You start to pick at your food when you notice a card under the plate. Picking it up you smile. Nyx had drawn you many get well soon cards over the last few days. “Good.”

In the middle of your meal and chat with Feyre, Rhys made his way into the bedroom taking the other spot next to you in bed. He takes your chin gently in his fingers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As if he was afraid of causing you more pain. “Hi angel, how are you feeling?” You smile against his lips, “Good.” He lets out a content hum leaning away from you.

As the week went on your mates let up on their hovering. When the bandage came off Rhys would massage your ankle every night, rubbing a special salve Madja gave you. While their overbearing nature at times can be aggravating, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d never stop being thankful to have mates and a family that cares so much about you.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #feyre x you #feyre x reader #feyreandrhysand #feyre acotar #feyre archeron #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x you #poly!feysand x reader #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d2

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itjazzbicch · 7 months

Text

Safe Haven

Pairing: Tomas “Smoke” Vrbada x Reader

First time writing for Smoke so I hope I did well!

Summary: Originally brought into the Lin Kuei as the reader was arranged to marry Bi-Han, they learn that he is not the man they thought him to be and when he goes off the deep end, the reader seeks help from someone in the Lin Kuei that they have true feelings for…

Warnings: Arranged marriage situation, MK1 Spoilers obvi, reader has a break down

Word Count: 0.7k

Being arranged to marry Bi-Han of the Lin Kuei, I thought this new chapter of my life would be the beginning of many good ones.

That turned out to be far from what I expected. Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the lover that I was looking for.

Although he became grandmaster and I was soon to be his spouse, he had business to handle with Lord Lui Kang and I had no knowledge of what exactly was going on.

Not till Bi-Han returned, claiming his brothers Kuai Liang and Tomas were no longer a part of the Lin Kuei, and that he’d no longer be working with Lord Lui Kang.

Any question I had, he didn’t answer, told me that it was none of my concern.

Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the man I dreamed of being with my entire life. I already doubts in the past and this was my breaking point.

He must’ve forgotten that I was a highly skilled martial artist like himself. One night when he finally rested, I snuck out, needing to find Tomas.

I learned that he and Kuai were making their own clan, the Shirai Ryu, and looking to take down Bi-Han and restore the Lin Kuei.

There was so much I needed to get off my chest and I knew I could do so with Tomas. Out of their entire clan, I bonded with him the most and I knew that he’d help me.

It didn’t take me long to reach the Shirai Ryu’s minka, stumbling upon a beautiful garden full of red trees, lit in the night by lanterns.

“Y/N?” Tomas’s voice alone had me ready to burst into tears, running to him, “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?”

“I’ve been following you, but it’s not what you think,” I said quickly, fighting tears and running out of breath, “I can’t stand Bi-Han anymore. I can’t take it. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to be in his Lin Kuei anymore.”

“Y/N, breathe. Try to calm down,” Holding my shoulders, trying his best to comfort me, “Are you-“

I already knew what he was going to ask and cut him off with tears flowing down my face:

“I’m positive and mean every word I say, Tomas. You don’t know him like I do and just how terrible he is. I don’t want to go back. Please-“

“Shh, it’s okay,” He whispered, pulling me into a warm hug, “I believe you.”

His hug was everything I needed and more, my tears slowed and after some deep breaths, I didn’t feel so weak and brittle anymore, answering his question from before:

“I have been doing work of my own while Bi-Han has been gone. That’s how I found this place. So I could come talk to you.”

“Showing off your skill I see,” He smiled while rubbing my back, trying to raise my spirit, holding up my head some to connect a gaze, growing serious again as he asked, “I know you’re upset and dealing with a lot right now, but everything you said, you’re sure that you mean it?”

“Tomas,” I breathed in deeply, failing at fighting my tears as I confessed, “He’s never loved me. The only thing that kept me there was you, b-because, I love you.”

I didn’t realize at first how big his pupils expanded, my heart pouring and continuing to confess:

“You’re the one who always made sure that I was okay, spent time with me, made me feel special, instead of treating me like some object. I’m sorry I waited till now to tell you. I was just so scared of Bi-Han and now he’s completely lost it and I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“It’s okay,” He breathed, thinking and pulling back into his hug, his whisper making me cry silently, “Im so glad that you came to me.”

The tears wouldn’t stop coming, shaking as a chilled wind blew past us in the garden, but those shakes coming to halt as his embrace grew a bit tighter and warmer, his voice helping me ease down:

“You don’t have to worry about Bi-Han anymore. You never have to go back. Never.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with you,” I whispered, looking up from his shoulder as he whispered back:

“Don’t trouble yourself thinking about it. I love you too much to let you go back to that monster of a man.”

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

AND I KNOW IT'S LONG GONE AND THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE I COULD DO, AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FORGET WHY I NEEDED TO.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, description of panic attack, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.7K+

☆ A/N: it'll be a short fic, i said. short and sweet and simple, i lied to myself.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The moment your name leaves his lips, you swear the world halts on its rotation.

This was real. Every fear and every anxiety you had wrestled with over the last twenty four hours wasn’t for naught – he was here, sitting before you, breathing your name out like a sigh of relief when all you felt was pain. Stabbing, radiating pain. It’s even worse than looking at pictures and headlines of a stranger on a phone screen. Something about him suddenly being tangible, suddenly being real, sends you reeling.

Lydia looks wildly between your showdown with the ghost of a man before you, “I’m sorry… Do you two- do you know each other?”

Not anymore.

“I-” you choke on your stutter. You’re frozen under his stare, going ashen as your head spins. Leave the room. Think of an excuse, get out of this room, run away. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It’s the world’s most pathetic excuse, but the only thing you can spit out before you’re turning heel and running, just as your body had so desperately craved. You nearly bump into one of the security guards you’d just bravely had a confrontation with.

They’d demanded your phone, you had put up a fight. You had stood your ground. Had held your chin high, dared them to push further even once they had your cell phone in their grasp, and displayed all that self-assuredness you had curated in the last two years. Only to end up scampering past them like a wounded animal mere seconds later.

Pathetic.

Lydia calls out something after you, but it reaches deaf ears as you blaze down the hallway. Your chest is squeezing, as if someone had wrapped it in shrink-wrap and sucked all of the air right out of it, swathed so tightly you could feel every pounding beat of your pulse racing. Your eyesight completely blurs, not quite from tears but rather a mere loss of focus. You nearly knock over one of the god forsaken fake plants Lydia insists as a primary form of decor, hardly being within the right mind to reach out and right the oversized bush of green plastic.

But you don’t have to. Right as your back collides with the wall off to the side of the plant, breathing only coming in short and miserable pants, a different hand reaches out to catch the plant. A ringed hand.

When Eddie says your name again, it’s not a sigh. It’s laced with panic as you support your full weight against white plaster and stare at where knuckles wrap around faux wooden stems.

“Hey,” he stresses, hand leaving your line of sight as he puts a large palm on each of your shoulders. You can’t look at him, not yet, “Hey, can you breathe for me? C’mon, big breaths.”

This close, you can smell the cologne. It’s not even the same woodsy drugstore scent that had lingered on the pillowcases he’d left you to cling to while on tour. Even that, something so miniscule as what cologne he now wore, had changed. And the new and unfamiliar scent chokes you, turns your desperate gasps for air even more futile.

You had walked out of that apartment two years ago, without any intention of ever being this close to him again. You’d sworn to yourself you’d never be this close again.

“You’re having a panic attack,” he squeezes your shoulders within his hold ever so slightly, as if attempting to ground you, “You need to breathe.”

Your eyes nervously find his brown ones. For a second, you recall summer days when the sun would hit them just right, turning them into molten honey for your tasting. Soft and glowing, warming you from the inside out so effortlessly.

But there’s not a single shred of sunlight in this hallway. The dark brown falls flat against your vision.

“I’m fine,” you very clearly aren’t, struggling to even get the words out into the air between you two, “I’m- I’m fine.”

He doesn’t fight you when you reach up to swat away his hands. He lets you, hands falling away with ease, touch retracting as if it had never burned you. You take the chance to look over the metal now settled on his fingers, and you realize he still wears all the same ones you remember so vividly. A cross, a pig’s face, an animalistic skull. But there are new ones added to his collection, adorned on his right hand rather than the left. Unfamiliar and odd, the bulky metallic additions are more plentiful. A silver snake wrapped around his pinky, a large spider with the body of a Magic 8 ball on his pointer, a bat spread eagle on his middle. There’s a chunkier one on his thumb, thinner ones added above a few of his second knuckles, but you can’t clear the haze of your vision long enough to pick up on the designs. You choose to focus back on the familiar ones instead, old and comforting even in your panic.

New rings, new cologne, new habits – the Eddie before you is not the Eddie you once knew.

“Okay,” he’s whispering now. You’re not even sure what excuse he used to follow you out here without causing a scene. Maybe he did cause a scene, surely a grander one than you. He had that privilege now; he was an untouchable rockstar, he could afford to raise a ruckus. “I… Are you sure?”

It’s hard to believe there was a time he was a familiar comfort when all that remains now is the awkward distance between the two of you.

But when he takes a step back from you, the new cologne leaves your stratosphere and the new rings leave your field of vision, and the breaths finally come just a tiny bit easier. Still not enough to satiate your lungs, but enough that the headrush begins to pass.

“I’m sure.”

You try to insert such finality in those two words. As if whatever had just happened would fade and never exist, as if you could walk back into that conference room and take yourself off this project. You can’t. Eddie has a sense of control, a grip on his reality and the reigns of his choices, but you don’t. If you were to demand Lydia remove you from the project, you’d be risking termination. You’d be risking everything – and it may not be much, but you’d built it brick by broken brick these last few years. You’d salvaged what you had been able to out of the ashes of what had been, but it hadn’t been enough. It had hardly been enough for a foundation. You’d built up the person that now stood before him from practical scratch.

The weight of just how much you had to lose hits suddenly – the realization that this was happening and you had no control of it.

But Eddie did. He had to.

“You need to go back in there,” you start, voice still shaking and eyes still averted, “And you need to demand that they reassign you guys. You… You need-” you begin to stutter and fumble to find the right words. You could have lashed out, could have tried to pour salt in a wound you weren’t even sure still existed so that Eddie made the choice on his own. But your mind is muddled and you’re desperate, “Someone else can take on the project. You need to go and demand that someone else takes on the project.”

“What?” Not the response you wanted. Not the response you needed, “I- No.”

Two years later, and he still found a way to do significant damage.

Your eyes snap up, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.”

“I haven’t asked anything of you. Not back then, not after everything happened, I-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Can’t ask for anything if you just fall off the face of the fucking earth.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but as his walls begin to build, you realize that the prior interaction had been something vulnerable. Something where neither of you were on the defense quite yet like you’d always imagined a reunion would go. All that had mattered ten seconds ago was you being okay, him coming after you, making sure you were fine. He’d allotted you all the care and attention you had craved so terribly two years ago, nearly begged for until your knees had bled for.

“Eddie,” you whisper, getting too distressed to think straight, “Please, for the love of God, just make them reassign the project-”

“I can’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “Do you think I’d put myself through this if I could help it? I fucking can’t. I have absolutely no control in there. I didn’t even-” he cuts off his sentence, looking you in your eyes, leaving more to be said.

He didn’t even what?

“I can’t do anything about it,” he says instead of whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, “Trust me – if I could, I would. But I can’t. So why don’t you say something?”

It’s your turn for scoffing and disbelief, “I can’t. I’m not the one with all the power and glory-”

“Is that what you think I have?”

“That’s what I know you have.”

You both go quiet as a battlefield fills the distance between you. All anger, all regret. None of the love or care that had once existed between you two exists here in this quantum plane of sharp words and deadly jabs.

“Just- please ask for a reassignment,” you try with one final plea, eyes hard on him, “Say that that first impression left you unimpressed, I don’t care. She won’t fire me for that.”

“Once again, no. As it turns out,” his voice is low, dangerous, unfamiliar. A tone he had never used before with you, “Even the one with all the power and all the glory can’t make miracles happen. Sorry, doll.”

He doesn’t await your response, leaving you on your own as you stay pressed against the wall and he’s walking away.

What is the saying? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?

You were certainly feeling scorned.

You felt ripped wide open, beaten and bruised and damn scorned as he leaves a conversation you weren’t finished with. You can’t tell which limb aches the most – the shoulder where his now strange hands had held onto you, your fingers that had curled into pained fists at your side to show you were prepared for a fight, your rib cage that still struggled to expand and accommodate the air now vacant of his cologne that you needed after your panic attack, or the legs that had once carried you away from Eddie Munson only to lead you right back to him.

There’s nothing you can do, though, beyond composing yourself. You take the same big, deep breaths that Eddie had tried to coax out of you moments before. Your fists slowly unfurl and your palms rake against the side of your jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat of the interaction.

Fine. If he wouldn’t help you, you could handle this. You could manage this project, plan a goddamn party for your ex-boyfriend’s new single. You would treat it just as you did every other previous project you had excelled at, and you would avoid all unnecessary contact with him just as you had with previous clients.

As a matter of fact, you could probably get away with avoiding all contact.

He hadn’t hired you. His management had. And, according to him, he had no real power in this situation. If he had no say in the matters, then there would be no reason to reach out to him.

You could do this. You could handle this.

It’s a mantra of salvation that you repeat to yourself internally as you take confident strides back to that conference room, not even stopping for the guards this time before you burst back into the room when your imminent doom awaits.

The repetition falters a bit when all eyes land on you as you take your first steps into the room.

Your name comes out of Lydia’s mouth like a hiss, her teeth locked into a smile that would better pass into a grimace as she asks, “How nice of you to join us again. Please, take a seat.”

“Of course,” you can’t look her in her eyes for very long, immediately rushing to sit at the chair she’d motioned towards. You haven’t spared Eddie a single glance – you haven’t spared any of the boys you’d once known a look. Instead, you look up to direct an apology at the only face you don’t recognize before you, “I’m truly sorry.”

The older gentleman, wrapped in a certain kindness and warmth below his professional attire, smiles. And in an instant, his face isn’t quite as unfamiliar, “No worries. When Nature calls, right? Regardless, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

You can guess which hole in Eddie’s life he’s attempting to smother, which shoes this man serves to fill. He has more hair than his predecessor, but the grin is the same.

If you picture the man he reminds you of back in Hawkins, you’ll surely begin to ache.

When you reply with your name, you can hear a fragment of your youth in your voice. Better days spent in Forest Hills trailer park, loitering about a trailer as Wayne Munson asks you how well of an eye you’ve been keeping on his nephew. You’d always lie, say you were keeping him in line when you knew you’d spent the day following him right into trouble, like some sort of lost puppy. Like some sort of loyal soldier. It occurs to you that that’s who you had always been; a fierce soldier over the shoulder of Eddie, ever the brave commander. You would have followed him into battle without a second of consideration, you did follow him all the way to New York without ever taking a final glance at your hometown.

You wondered if he had tried to replace you as well. You imagine it; the new and fresh face that replaced yours in picture frames, that laid beside him at the end of each night he returned home, that heard a whisper of I love you over the line to the backtrack of a sound rehearsal.

Were there ever any bloody wars between him and his new lovers that could compare to the battles never fought between you two? Did anyone else in this world know the wounds of his gun never fired?

The smoke clears. You still don’t look at Eddie, afraid to only see the commander you once knew. You force a smile, putting on a soldier's bravado that doesn’t fit quite right anymore.

Bullets never fired, triggers never pulled, but the blood stained the same.

“So, where shall we begin?”

—

Matt does most of the talking for the next hour. Sheet after sheet of paperwork is laid down in front of you, your hand beginning to cramp from signing your name so many times, and the details are discussed.

A new single, set to release in three months. A release party that needed to be grandeur and garner the type of attention that Matt feared had been waning from the band due to radio silence on their music front. The outlines of the project were clear cut, simple enough, and you had yourself fooled just well enough that this would be easy.

You kept your eyes set on the prize and never once noticed the tomfoolery occurring between the band members. The words on the tip of their tongues that Eddie keeps quiet through quick kicks to their shins beneath the table, the individual hurt reflected in each of their eyes as you treat them no better than strangers. That treatment of Eddie, they understood. But them?

They could never understand.

“What’s the name of the single, if I may ask?” you question as you look over one of your copies of the paperwork. Lydia had been eerily silent, allowing you to take the lead.

Despite the rough start, it was paying off. Having a switch for your emotions can be a good thing, as it turns out.

“You may,” Matt nods before turning to the boys. It’s the first time he's looked to them for answers during the entire meeting, “Shall I do the honors, or would you boys rather do it yourselves?”

It’s a chance for all the members of Corroded Coffin to open their mouths without silent reprimanding from Eddie beneath the table, but he beats them to it.

“Dial Tone.”

You freeze your reading.

There’s something in the way he says it that forces you to look up. As if he’s only speaking to you, and the rest of the room is a faded mirage for him to send away for these private moments. Still a commander, even when his bravest soldier has left him.

“Sounds… interesting,” you murmur, taking a few seconds too long to meet his gaze, unsure of what to say, “Rolls off the tongue easily.”

“It certainly does. Which, ironic, given the situation that inspired the song.”

“And what would that be?”

You’re both wearing masks in front of an audience half made up of people painfully aware of your history, and the rest being painfully oblivious.

Does Matt know about you? Lydia certainly doesn’t know about Eddie.

“Words never said. Answers never given. Phone calls missed and never… returned.”

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. It feels a bit selfish, a bit self absorbed, to so quickly assume you’re the inspiration.

But how could you believe anything else when Eddie is looking at you like that?

Hollow eyes, devoid of all the honey you once reveled in. Not so much of a stain of sweetness you swear you still taste on the back of your tongue. He’s looking at you with blame, well-deserved anger, and yet not an ounce of the guilt that should exist somewhere in those depths.

“How riveting,” you play along, trying to swallow down the waves of emotions, “Sounds like it’ll really draw in your audience. Might even be relatable to a few.”

Answers never given. Like how someone could stop saying they loved someone they’d spent years planning their life with, like how he could stop calling so easily, how he could leave so easily.

“Fingers crossed,” his forced smile in return is almost sinister, and you know it was the right choice to avoid speaking to each other until this moment.

There will be no contact. You know now that if you take on this project, which you technically have through law-binding contracts, that you won’t be able to be civil with Eddie. There is a history that can never be erased, mistakes made and wounds inflicted by both sides. Two worlds of hurt caused by opposing sets of hands that can only clash when they try to meet in the middle.

But then Matt, sweet Matt that you had come to actually like during this meeting, has to burst your bubble.

“Right, well, the good news is the boys aren’t on tour for the time being, meaning there will be plenty of time to talk about the small details and how the single will come into play during planning,” he explains, happily and still so unaware, “As a matter of fact, I would like to emphasize just how much I would appreciate you including the boys, especially Eddie, in this ordeal. His participation would be very helpful.”

Some silent form of communication happens between Matt and Eddie, glinting eyes and sudden frowns meeting raised eyebrows and fake smiles, but it’s not your concern.

The last thing you want during this project is Eddie’s involvement.

“Of course!” You need to think of an excuse, push for a way to keep him out, “But if Eddie is too busy, I’ll completely understand. I know that a single usually means an album, and that can be very time consum-”

“He won’t be too busy,” Matt interrupts, still staring at Eddie as if he’s daring him, not even questioning you singling him out as he does the exact same.

You recall what Eddie had insisted in the hallway, that his reach of control wasn’t as far as you had been assuming.

Swallowing hard, you see another relic of Wayne Munson in this man – he wasn’t someone to argue with, “Right, of course. Eddie will be involved. Absolutely.”

All the power and all the glory – but did it really rest in Eddie’s palms like you assumed?

“She has a point,” Eddie finally finds his voice, leaning back in his chair, trying to relax the tension from his shoulders, “I do have the album to work on.”

“And now you have this. I’m sure you can find a way to multi-task.”

Your comparison was accurate. It had been a while since you had seen another grown man capable of shutting Eddie down so quickly, tearing down his walls of affinity for challenging authority and reducing him to nothing more than a shell of his younger self. Matt and Wayne would have gotten along well. You doubt that they’ve met, but you know a bond would have formed between the common denominator of being able to subdue the once-rambunctious boy before you.

Eddie pouts nearly the complete remainder of the meeting. And those foolish, bitter shards within you become determined to be the bigger person. To smile and nod along, even when you disagreed with certain terms discussed. To be agreeable, to be good, to be better. This new version of you has something to prove; that you’ve done better without Eddie, that you’ve changed into something that no longer aligns with who he is.

It’s all for show, but you tell yourself no one can see through the cellophane disguise.

The only remaining signatures aren’t required from you but the rest of the boys. A single contract is passed down the line, and each of them sign themselves away to the agreement. Line after line of swooping black ink locks the five of you into an entrapment, a crowded dance of newly made strangers who have no choice but to play pretend.

Eddie makes it a deliberate point that he’s the last one to sign. Forces Grant to slide the prettily detailed paper right in front of him until it’s clear he’s making no move to pick up his pen, and the poor guy has to stretch a bit further and let Gareth take it rather than the stubborn rockstar. Only once Jeff’s own night-shade of ink has looped over one of the many lines does it return back to Eddie.

He looks you in the eyes for several seconds too long, pen crooked beside the paper on the table. You can’t take a single breath as you register how lifeless his eyes remain.

He’s not the person you once knew, but you are no longer the girl that once saw the world in him.

You will not drop to your knees before him, you will not worship the ground he walks on, you will not break. Certainly not first. Certainly not at all.

There’s no final words before hands donning unfamiliar rings pick up a pen amongst the silence. Just the click of bringing the ink to life, and the soft scratch of promises that will not be kept. It’s nothing new amongst the two of you.

As a matter of fact, if the scratch of the pen could echo, it might just resemble the sound of the door on that haunted and vacant apartment closing for the final time behind you two years ago.

—

“Do you two know each other?”

You had been waiting for this moment. Once Matt had called for a quick break so that he could organize and make copies of all paperwork, you knew Lydia would be chasing you down.

“What do you mean?” you question airily, topping off the small paper cup of water you had used as an excuse to dismiss yourself into the corner of the room, “Me and Matt? No, I’ve never-”

“Not you and Matt,” she moves to stand in front of you, your back to the room and the band, as she continues in an authoritative whisper, “You and the band – you and Eddie.”

“Why do you think we know each other?”

Please don’t catch on. Please don’t notice. Please don’t make me admit it.

Please don’t fire me.

She retrieves her own water, moving as if she wasn’t having such an intense conversation with you at this moment. All a show for the clients, no doubt. You weren’t the only skilled actress in this room, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you ran out of this room when you saw him, maybe the way he ran after you without a word. Maybe the way the two of you spent a good ten minutes alone in that hallway, and how the rest of that band has been looking at you like you’re a ghost. Please don’t tell me you had a fling with Eddie before this. I really need my best person on this project, but I can’t have personal relationships interferin-”

“No, we don’t know each other,” you cut her off, ignoring the compliment and taking a sip to give your chance to formulate a better addition to the lie. It wasn’t really a lie, though, was it? “I promise it’s nothing, and it won’t interfere. I just…” I just hate him. I just miss the version of him I used to know. I just need you to take me off this project as quickly as possible for a reason that won’t make you think less of me or affect my future career here. “I don’t like the band, you know this.”

“I knew you weren’t a fan of them, but…” she trails off and looks over your shoulder, no doubt surveying the band. When you stood up from the table, they’d all been feigning boredom as if they hadn’t been taking turns staring you down so intensely. You felt like an animal under observation. “I thought it would be a good thing. To have a neutral party take this on. Why, exactly, don’t you like them?”

“ I don’t think he’s a good person.”

He as in Eddie. It goes as unspoken knowledge. And, technically, it isn’t a lie. Based on the headlines, based on his coolness this entire interaction, you don’t think he’s a good person. Not anymore.

You can feel the four sets of eyes on you even now. Your exchange with Lydia has been too quiet for them to hear, but you know you’re still being watched carefully.

“You don’t have to think he’s a good person, but you do need to play nice,” Lydia reminds you. You open your mouth, prepared to argue that you had been playing nice when Lydia waves her free hand to stop you, “I know, I know. I’m not saying you haven’t been perfectly professional. You have been, aside from your… bathroom break at the beginning, but please just remember that.”

You nod, stiff as ever. She was giving you more grace than you deserved if you tried to look at it from an outsider’s point of view.

“Of course,” that tone of professionalism, that mask to hide the whirlwind of emotions. You could do this.

You had to do this.

Choice is an illusion when Matt returns with the copies of paperwork, dividing the files up between himself and Lydia. Choice is an illusion as fake smiles are exchanged and pleasant goodbyes are offered. Choice is nothing but smoke and mirrors when all is said and done, and the entire group of you all stand outside the conference room, ready to part ways with a promise of next time, meaning the next meeting.

You never had a choice in any of this. Eddie did, somewhere along the line, but you didn’t.

Lydia and you both hand over business cards to Matt’s waiting hands, a deliberate move on your part. You bypass Eddie’s expectant glare entirely. The quicker this is over with, the faster he’s exiting the building and no longer occupying the same room as you, the better.

“We’ll be in contact,” Matt promises as he tucks the cards away carefully.

“I look forward to it,” you assure him, as if you weren’t dreading every second of what those contracts had detailed.

Three months. You had just signed on to guarantee Eddie Munson being back in your life for three months. The thought makes you nauseous.

Matt, ever the normal person, takes it as his queue to leave. Lydia has nodded, turned and began her short trek to her office as the band’s manager starts his journey to the elevator. Most of Corroded Coffin scampers after him, gazes on the floor as they retreat to a private space that will certainly be filled with questions. You almost wish there was a way for you to hear what will be said. The topic of conversation, undoubtedly, will be you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. A pair of intertwined souls that had taken a sharp knife to your connection only to end up with Fate cruelly retying it on this dreadful day.

Fate, and Eddie, it seems.

His hand reaches out and catches your upper arm before you can escape the exchange properly.

“Can we talk?” You stare at him blankly to hide the racing of your heart and pounding in your mind. Those hands on you, skin on skin, leaving an inevitable mark. An inevitable stain. “Go for coffee, go for lunch, just-”

“No.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Your pause was only born out of shock.

His eyebrows furrow, “No? What do you mean no?”

It feels like a pathetic repeat of your interaction in the hallway, when you had begged him to save you from this doomed union. Except now, you hold the cards in your hand. The first sense of control you’ve been offered this entire time.

“I mean no,” you repeat yourself clearly. Matt is halfway down the hall, and the boys trailing right behind him seem to fumble over their steps for a second. Jeff even goes as far as to look over his shoulder at the brewing storm appearing behind them, but clearly thinks better of intruding, “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want lunch.”

End of story.

Except, it isn’t, because Eddie’s face only twists further in pain, “We have to talk at some point-”

“Actually, we don’t. I’d prefer we didn’t. I think we can both agree it’ll be better, easier, for both of us to keep this strictly professional until we can go our separate ways again.”

He looks as if you had physically reached out and struck him. The force of your words nearly makes him rock backwards, face falling and mouth agape as he tries to grapple with the determination in your words.

If you were a fool, you’d mistake it for a flash of disappointment. But it’s not possible – it couldn’t be disappointment, only arrogance. He had obviously been assuming you would just give in. Your change just hadn’t become clear enough to him yet. It would, in time.

And now, the two of you seemingly had too much of it to endure.

“Actually, I think we can both agree that’s a load of bullshit,” he crassly argues back once he’s regained composure, “You know that’s not possible.”

You shake your head, suck in a bit of the skin of your inner cheek between your molars as an internal encouragement to stand your ground, “It is. It’s not only possible, but is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You heard Matt. We have to talk at some point, even if it’s just about this and not us.”

“And we will. We can talk about this project all you want, Eddie. But not over lunch, and not over coffee,” you swear you draw blood from your cheek as you take back on that tone of professionalism, ice cold and completely disconnected, “My preferred form of contact is email. I usually respond in a timely manner, even after hours-”

“Don’t do that,” he stops you.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your clients.”

The metallic flavor floods the deepest corners of your mouth, overtaking the aftertaste of a honey you once knew on the back of your tongue, “That’s exactly what you are. One of my clients.”

Just a client, and nothing more. A boundary must be drawn, or else there will be more blood spilled than a mere drop from biting your inner cheek. And you aren’t prepared to bleed for him – not again. Never again.

He opens his mouth, as if he has more to dig out of the grave of this conversation, when Matt’s voice calls from down the hallway, “Eddie! C’mon! There’ll be time to talk later, we’ve got a meeting with the producer across town now.”

His stance goes rigid, annoyance rolling off him in waves, eyes still focused on you.

Maybe the reminder of time, the three month timeline, hurts him just as much as it hurts you. Maybe, just possibly, his arm has also been twisted in carving out a space for you in his life once more, whether strictly professional or not.

He deeply exhales through his nose, “I don’t even have your email.”

“Matt does. He has my card.”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t. How am I supposed to reach you through your preferred form of contact without it?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You mean to smile at him just as you would the owner of the bakery opening on Third Street, or the mother of a bride trying to share the weight of responsibilities for a wedding. It doesn’t come off that way, though – you can feel the sadness of it tickle the corners of your mouth before he’s even slowly turning from you.

You watch the figure of Eddie Munson walk away from you, and you begin to wish he were walking out of your life rather than only out of the building for the time being.

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#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #i couldn't access my taglist response list for a few days so the taglists are NOT updated! they will be soon :)#half-assedly edited #i am now going to bed because i am the sleepiest girl to ever exist EVER #playing around with formatting don't mind me

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arafilez · 28 days

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▰ ▰ ✶ WØRLD EPISØDE FIN: WILL ⪨

ㅤㅤ➛ ㅤviii.ㅤ EVERYTHING 𒉽 choi jongho❛ 𓇿

🥂̸̤ㅤㅤfluff forced proximity pg13ㅤ ✸ㅤthe last person you wanted to complete the mission with is jongho, well too bad he is the only optionㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ w: fighting . one-bed trope ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ wc: 3kㅤㅤ𠈔ㅤㅤ moodboard

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛ you're an asshole but i love you ❜

“Everything that comes out of your mouth is stupid.”

“Choi Jongho”

“Shut up.”

You both stop abruptly at the third voice and turn towards the captain but not without giving each other one last glare. Hongjoong takes a deep breath and looks at you two shaking his head wondering what he had ever done in his past life to get such a chaotic group of spies. Because they surely can’t act like one.

“Okay now that I have your attention span of five seconds, you two are doing this mission together,” Hongjoong speaks and doesn’t bother to look up already knowing what is coming.

“I am not going with him.”

“Again?”

You both shout at the same time earning an eye-roll from Hongjoong who merely states, “Yes, and you don’t get a choice.” Your mouth hangs open at his words and you try to protest only for Hongjoong to silence you and say, “Because you two are our best undercovers.”

“Well, I am, of course, but her?” Jongho asks, mocking evident in his voice and you snicker at the immature man beside you. Being the two youngest in the team you two didn’t leave one day where you wouldn’t bite each other’s head off.

“Of course, because you are the one who brought home the information in our last mission,” you say, plastering a sickly sweet smile on your face.

“Talk with respect, I was born first,” he bites back and you roll your eyes at the lame comeback before saying, “Don’t you mean hatched?”

“Dismissed,” Hongjoong says interrupting you two and giving a stern look that makes both of you shut up and accept it and leave. Walking outside you close Hongjoong’s door behind you and feel Jongho tapping your shoulder.

“What?” you give him a look which quickly turns into confusion as you see him shushing you and pointing towards the lab door where you see Wooyoung’s sister clinging onto Yunho.

You shrug lightly whispering, “Well Wooyoung oppa is going to be fucking over the moon,” and Jongho giggles at your response knowing his hyung in fact will be.

You look towards Jongho who has a gummy smile etched on his face and for a moment you let your mind tell you he looks cute in that smile with his crinkled eyes that look like a crescent moon.

“Too bad you don’t have a brother, let alone his best friend,” Jongho remarks and the record screeches and comes to a halt. You smile at him before showing your middle finger to his face and he sticks out his tongue making you scoff.

“It’s almost two, do you want to plan tomorrow or now?” Jongho asks suddenly and you contemplate a bit balancing out your odds and he takes the cue to continue, “What are you thinking so much, you don’t have anyone to go back to your room, unlike San hyung.”

You attempt to kick him, swinging your leg in the hair and he giggles running towards his room and you follow muttering curses under your breath at the little spawn of the devil.

The relationship you and Jongho had was interesting. You two were the undercovers of Ateez and being a team you two complement each other well, bringing information as well as eliminating bodies left and right.

But, there’s always a but, you two couldn’t stand each other. You found him obnoxious and annoying and he found you too hasty. At least that was the basic reason. There were a thousand other reasons which justify why you would kill him on a good day. One of them, was his big mouth that was never shut, annoying you whenever he could.

“What is your plan? Where do we start?” your thoughts come to a halt as Jongho’s voice infiltrates your ear and you look at him in the eyes that hold a boring expression.

You shake your head lightly and sit down on his bed, which you will never admit is very comfortable, and say, “We can just simply keep a watch on them and act accordingly.”

“We will not be in any disguise genius, what if we get caught?” he throws his shoes off his legs to the corner of the room and sits down beside you and you narrow your eyes at him.

“We will improvise like we have always done till now,” you shrug lightly. Honestly, this mission wasn’t a lot. Even though it has crucial information standing on the line you and Jongho have been on much harder missions and have been alive.

Even though you might have tried to kill each other while at it.

“Fine just don’t do stupid shit when we almost get caught, like that time you suggested beer pong,” Jongho grits out, eyes flaming with anger as he remembers how you had almost slept with an official if he hadn’t saved you.

“That was all part of the plan,” you dismiss him airily and he rolls his eyes muttering “Sure” which made you feel embarrassed as hell because it sure wasn’t part of any plan. Heck, you already have two people in your team for that job.

He yawns stretching out his limbs and you look at him and watch his muscles flex under the t-shirt he is wearing accentuating his arm muscles and you watch him intently.

“Good muscles, no?” Jongho smirks looking at you ogling and your eyes widen at getting caught and you cough looking away and say, “Yeah whatever, those are just for show.”

You even fake a scoff to hide the warmth radiating from your cheeks and he raises an eyebrow.

“They can show you a lot of things baby,” he purrs, his body slightly leaning towards you and you stare back at his eyes with equal intensity. You are pretty sure your cheeks are red by now, and you can feel his breath too close to you, and you might be hallucinating but you see his eyes travel to your lips for a split second.

Coughing lightly, you abruptly get up before you do something you regret and walk towards the door. Jongho also sits up looking away and you say a small “See you tomorrow,” and leave.

“You have got to be fucking with me!” you exclaim, a frustrated groan leaving with me as you eye the room you are to stay for the night. It is definitely a sorry excuse for a homestay, heck you have stayed in worse places but that isn’t the problem.

The problem is sharing the room with Jongho.

A room which has one bed.

No couch.

No mattress.

Not even two blankets in what they are calling a “double bed.” Double? It is more like a single and a half. Not even half, quarter.

“No thanks, I have better things to do,” Jongho’s monotonous reply brings you out of your trance and you glare at him throwing your backpack on the small table at the side.

The table creaks making you cringe and you slowly pick up your bag and keep it beside the leg of the bed. You are not paying for a broken table. They cannot even make more rooms, of course, they can’t afford a decent table.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” you deadpan and Jongho laughs sarcastically saying, “How about you say that to your phone’s selfie camera?”

“Selfie camera? Really?” you fold your arms cocking your eyebrow at him and he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah well there’s no mirror.” You scoff at his attitude and continue, “You cannot make a lady sleep on the floor.”

“Where’s the lady? I can’t see her,” he retaliates with a smirk adorning his face. You take in a deep break and shooting him a quick glare you plop down on the bed.

Jongho puts his bag down beside yours and glances around. His heart panics a little at the single bed but he quickly looks away. It is three days, he can do this.

You think it is for three days, you can go without killing each other, maintain a safe distance, and return safely to the base. You can do this.

You absolutely cannot do this.

Jongho has been shuffling for the last fifteen minutes and he doesn’t stop. His tossing and turning make you annoyed and you hiss in anger and turn towards him and yell, “Jongho just sleep for fuck’s sake.”

He turns towards you and whispers, “I am trying.”

“Well, try harder, and stop moving,” you finally shoot your eyes open and look at him. The proximity makes you falter quickly and you can see your noses almost touching, his eyes scanning your whole face.

Your eyes rake his face, over every mole, cute lump and his nose-bridge and then fall to his lips. You quickly look up at him and he opens his mouth and you brace yourself for the worst teasing of your life.

“You have really nice eyes,” your eyes widen in shock and your lips part but no words come out as you continue to stare into his soft, brown eyes. After a moment you collect yourself barely and say, “Go to sleep Choi.”

Why is this hotel room so goddamn cold?

“Okay,” he whispers back, his breath fanning your face your mouth a ‘good’ because you didn’t trust your voice and turn your back to him, trying to calm your heart.

Jongho eyes rest on your back trying to even his breath until his eyes close.

You wake up in the middle of the night, or rather your bladder urges you to try to move. Except you can’t when you see Jongho’s hand draped over your waist, holding you close. His soft breath dances on your neck and you stay awake for some time enjoying the warmth of his body that feels so strangely comfortable and you hate to admit it.

Okay no you really need to pee.

You wiggle out of his arms slowly, not intending to wake him up and he groans making you go still. “Why do I care?” you think to yourself but put extra care into placing his arms down and getting up.

Coming back you jump lightly as Jongho’s annoyed eyes match yours and he says, “Come back here.”

“Why?” your cheeks tinge a shade of red and you are glad the room is dark or else you would have never lived it down. You take a sip of water from the bottle, trying to shove the feeling down your burning throat but you can’t.

Jongho keeps watching your ministrations, getting impatient with each passing second. Why can’t you just come back goddammit? He speaks up before he can stop himself and says, “You are the only source of warmth in this stupid hotel, so come back before I get hypothermia.”

You smirk lightly at his bear-like features getting all riled up and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly making him huff and turn sideways away from you. You cannot believe Jongho being this needy.

Jongho never loses his composure. Except when he is with you, you make him do crazy things.

You giggle lightly at the pouting baby bear before you walk towards him and get inside the duvet and his eye shots up as you lie down. He instantly wraps his arm around you and you murmur to him, “I am only doing this because you are cold and you will get hypothermia or whatever, don’t take it otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” his sleepy voice reverberates in the room as he holds you tightly making your insides warm up. He is just cold, don’t overthink, you scold your mind before lulling back to sleep.

The next morning becomes unusually quiet, unlike your usual bickering. Both of you check your logs sent by Yunho and work on your tactical gears and weapons. Neither of you brings up last night’s incident, an unspoken agreement forming.

At the said time, you both leave the motel and arrive at the back door of the pub. You say the code and they let you two in and you search for your perp.

“There she is,” Jongho whispers and you quickly look over to his direction and spot her immediately. “You talk with officials, I will go talk with her,” you say and he nods before you part ways. You strut your way towards her and sit beside her at the bar, passing her a glance.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you look at Jongho who has a resolute look on his face as he sits down to play poker with the officials. You smile lightly at his undercover suit that makes him look like a businessman.

Jongho knows the official has a gun ready below the table and he sends a signal to Mingi who gets ready in his position at the back. Jongho smiles lightly and continues the game like nothing happened until he is on the last card and pulls out an Ateez card from his pocket turning it swiftly to the officers.

You knock over your drink on purpose, and Mingi walks towards Jongho. “You’re dead, darling,” you whisper as soon as you see Jongho firing the bullets and you smirk lightly holding her down and she fights back. “Oh shit,” you whisper when she jabs you on your forehead before you hold her down in a choking position.

With her free hand, she punches you on the lips and you feel offended. She did not just ruin your pretty lips, and you scoffed in annoyance before grabbing the spray from your waist and using it on her.

“Bitch, you could have hit any other place but these pretty lips?” you say before throwing her figure down for an amused Mingi to watch you.

The perp falls limp on the ground and you gesture at Mingi who gladly takes her back to the headquarters. You look around in confusion and Mingi shrugs as you see Jongho still shooting. You roll your eyes pulling him by the elbow and whisper, “Tell me you got the papers.”

“Let’s make a grand exit,” he grins cheekily and you look at him quizzically and pull him by the arm saying, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He gives you a deaf ear shooting the fire extinguishing sprinklers as the water starts pouring. “What the actual-“ You don’t finish your sentence running out and looking at him in disbelief as he walks through the water like it is some sort of runway.

When he finally comes out after his “dramatic exit” you say, “I will be handling your CV to modelling agencies when we get back, just wait and see.”

He laughs and you scoff and stomp away as he follows you, the papers safely with Mingi sent back.

Back at the motel, he forcefully makes you sit down on the bed as he brings the first-aid kit out. You eye his ministrations and snicker when he accidentally pours some antiseptic on his fingers instead of the cotton.

“You should have told me you are hurt,” he says, lightly dabbing at the wound on your forehead first.

“Oh and stop your modelling, how on earth can I do that?” you fake a gasp and Jongho forcefully jabs your forehead and you slap his hand.

Jongho lightly flicks your forehead, his gummy smile etching his lips as he steps closer. He holds your jaw softly, turning your head up and your eyes follow his hands that busied themselves on cleaning the cut.

“Geez I am fine you big baby, I have got way bigger cuts than one on a forehead and a split lip,” you complain while Jongho carefully presses a piece of cotton between your lips. Your words get muffled and he smiles in a sinister way and says, “You are so much better when you don’t talk.”

You stick your middle finger at his face and he edges closer to you, looking down at you raises your eyebrows as you gaze back. “There are a lot more ways where I can make you quiet,” he smirks and continues, “Or make you scream louder.”

Your face flushes with warmth and reaches the tip of your ears at his words and your eyes widen. You look at your sides and see Jongho’s arms flexing as he holds the bed headboard. Fuck him and his apple-breaking arms, you think.

Fuck everything.

“Yeah?” you ask softly taking out the cotton from your lips and continuing, “Why don’t you show me the ways?”

Jongho raises his eyebrow dipping his head more and the closeness almost makes your noses touch and he asks, “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe I will,” you speak, a mischievous smile tugging on your lips and before can count to another second Jongho’s lips press to yours in a desperate kiss. You stumble lightly from the pressure and hold his shoulders tilting your head. Your lips move in perfect sync and the kiss turns from rough and desperate to soft and sensual in seconds. His grip softens and he holds your hands while you caress his hair lightly. You feel him smile in the kiss and return it as you two part.

You love this about Jongho so much.

He smiles and you bite your lips feeling shy as he pecks your lips saying, “You were right, I am stupid.” You groan at him shaking your head and trying to cover his mouth but he continues, “Stupidly in love with you.”

“Oh my god, that is so cheesy,” you groan at him and he laughs before tackling you to the bed and kissing you all over the face while you giggle.

✸ㅤ ara's notesㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ that is it, the end of my series, tbf i had fun writing this one a lot ㅤㅤ»ㅤ series mlistㅤ ateez mlist ㅤ main mlist ㅤ naviㅤㅤ𠈔

✸ㅤ taglistㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ @haneagerr @tunaasan @evidive @huachengsbestie01 @philijack @atiny-lizbeth @chxnnii @nakiiko @therealcuppicake @weird-bookworm ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ if you liked the series you can join my taglistㅤㅤ𠈔

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cobaltperun · 1 month

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Woe out the Storm (13) - Here comes the Thunder

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.6k

-Storms are comin', better run for cover. Here comes, here comes the thunder-

Tyler Galpin was the monster, the Hyde, the one who murdered Rowan and hurt Eugene. You were pissed, but you were nowhere near as pissed as Wednesday.

“I should have known it. His wounds weren’t nearly as serious as they should have been, I thought he got lucky, but he wounded himself,” she began pacing back and forth, the two of you still in front of the hospital.

“We need to go,” you told her, as subtly as you could pointing toward the hospital where Weems and the sheriff were coming out. “We can’t trust either of them now. H won’t turn his own son in and Weems…” you weren’t ready to say it just yet.

“Has been obstructing us since the start,” Wednesday said it for you as the two of you began walking away. You’d head straight for Nevermore, there wasn’t anywhere else you could go to, really.

“Right, let’s see, we know Hyde lays dormant, so there should be some genetics involved there. Galpin senior is a normie, but do we know anything about Tyler’s mom?” you asked, it was very rare for someone to just randomly develop an ability. It happened, but usually not with the kinds of abilities that involved transforming or shifting.

Wednesday shook her head. “No, and you’re not going to the archive to check,” ah, so she was still worried about what happened to you when you went to mayor’s office building.

“Maybe sneak into his house? See if we can find any medical records? Any history with Nevermore?” you gave in, it was adorable how protective she was.

“We can send Thing,” before you could even raise the question of his health she beat you to it. “He’s fine now,” she assured you.

“Okay, we got a plan then,” you nodded. Thing really was your best option here, even if you wished he could rest for at least a while longer. “Why would he turn on Laurel though?” you wondered.

“I’m not sure, I’m confident Kinbott is Laurel,” she slowed down a bit, as if something caught her attention at that very moment. “No, it’s not Kinbott,” Wednesday completely stopped.

You stopped as well, though a few steps ahead of her, and raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue.

“I thought it was her because of the flowers she left in Eugene’s room, they were the same flowers Enid and I saw in Laurel’s room, but the photos someone took of me mean that someone would have to be at Nevermore,” Wednesday explained, and you could see the frustration on her face at both her guesses being wrong.

“And since Tyler is the Hyde, the master has to be at Nevermore,” you groaned in frustration, you had no idea who it could be. “Unless it’s someone else, like the one that attacked me,” why was this so complicated?

“I don’t think it’s that one. The raijin, I mean,” Wednesday said and you halted completed.

“Raijin? The raijin? Japanese ‘lightning god’ raijin?” Wednesday just nodded at that. Well, that explained a lot of things, the pressure you felt, the difference in your level, the overwhelming presence. You weren’t dealing with a beast, you were dealing with a damn god of lightning. “Well, we better hope that guy doesn’t show up, because all that talk about not dying goes out the window in that case,” you just said it. There was absolutely nothing you could do, even if you shifted you felt like you’d be powerless against raijin.

“I know, I saw a vision of Diego, the raiju Goody had a bond with, fighting him. You can’t fight him,” you could hear the hints of panic in her voice. Wednesday knew, even better than you did, from the looks of it, just how strong the raijin was. And it pretty much confirmed you were attacked by someone who’s been alive for centuries.

You closed the distance between you two and took hold of her hand. When she squeezed your hand in return you leaned down, resting your forehead against her left shoulder. “I’m not going to let you deal with this alone, if that’s what you were going to suggest,” you could hear the sharp, though barely audible, gasp. “I’m on your side no matter what,” you let red sparks surround the two of you, completely safe for Wednesday. And in the midst of all that she raised her other arm and placed it on your back, her fingers digging into your back through your shirt.

“Don’t die for me,” she whispered, so softly you almost wondered if you heard it right.

You told her you wouldn’t die, but given the situation, it seemed more like wishful thinking than anything else now. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you couldn’t say anything else, you could just hope it wouldn’t get to that point.

And if it did… Well, there was no point in thinking about that right now.

You had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, in the middle of the road between Nevermore and Jericho, not caring one bit about who could see you. You both just committed the moment to your memories, cherishing the feelings you weren’t quite ready to talk about just yet, but you were feeling them nonetheless, perhaps even more intensely than you would if you were to put them into words.

It wasn’t a generational bond. This ran deeper, this was entirely personal, and it brought out a side of each of you that you didn’t even realize existed. The more emotional side of Wednesday, and a side of you that wasn’t afraid of your lightning hurting someone.

~X~

For whatever reason you chose to stay in the quad, saying something about giving Wednesday some space. Considering how emotional she got less than half an hour ago she was more than willing to accept that. When she came into her room, she realized exactly why you gave her space.

Wednesday stopped when she saw Enid there, unpacking and it somehow made a heavy weight she was feeling since Enid left disappear. She could admit that she preferred to stick to certain habits, and you and Enid living with her became a part of her daily routine, so to have Enid back, from the looks of it, made her feel like things were going back to how they should be.

“Hey,” Enid greeted her.

“You’re back,” Wednesday wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I’m gone for a few days, the place gets trashed, and Thing almost dies. Someone’s gotta look out for you two and Y/N can’t do it alone,” Enid stopped unpacking and walked around her bed to get closer to Wednesday.

Like getting emotional with you wasn’t already enough. Wednesday could feel emotions clawing their way out of her body against her will, so she changed the subject. “What happened to rooming with Yoko?”

“Yoko’s great. I just decided I needed a few more boundaries,” Enid was already pulling the tape out.

Wednesday looked away. “Skip the tape.”

“Don’t tell me Wednesday Addams is mellowing out,” Enid dared to tease her.

“Never. More like evolving,” she retorted right away, once again meeting Enid’s eyes.

“Well, one inch of duct tape at a time,” the pastel werewolf smiled, not as brightly, but just as genuinely as Wednesday was used to seeing.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Because we work. We shouldn’t, but we do. It’s like some sort of weird friendship anomaly. Everything you said about me is true, but I don’t apologize for it, not anymore. It’s just who I am,” Enid told her, confident and relaxed.

“Thing said he missed you,” it was true, it was also the way to express a part of what she felt without saying it entirely.

“I missed him too,” Enid replied and Wednesday could feel the unspoken words.

“I,” she paused, cursing herself for how soft she had gotten since coming here, how soft Enid and especially you made her. “missed you too.”

Enid remained too stunned to respond and Wednesday took that opportunity to step away from the conversation.

~X~

The plan was set in motion. Enid, who came back and had a much-needed conversation with Wednesday, that you chose to give them privacy for, would make sure to cover your and Wednesday’s absence from your room. Bianca would use her siren song on Tyler, Xavier would offer his shed as the place to bring Tyler to, and Ajax, Yoko, Divina and Kent would be the back-up.

Of course, if anything went horribly wrong you’d be the first line of defense and the one who’d fight the Hyde, even if Wednesday wasn’t too thrilled about that part of the plan.

You watched as Bianca put Tyler to sleep. This was the extent of her siren song. It wouldn’t be helpful for the interrogation; she couldn’t make someone tell the truth. That was the issue with her ability, she could make someone believe something, but in doing so she influenced them. Meaning that she’d influence Tyler into believing he was the Hyde instead of pulling the truth out of him. You stood at the back of Xavier’s shed, behind Tyler, and far enough that he couldn’t realize you were there. If he thought he could fight his way out of this he was sorely mistaken.

Yet, as Bianca woke him up, he immediately put on an act, pretending he was confused and afraid as Wednesday tased him.

The yells of disapproval from everyone else annoyed you. Tyler killed people, he did it in a brutal, painful way, he felt them die. Getting tased was the good outcome for him. But one by one, the Nightshades left Xavier’s shed, with Bianca trying to get Wednesday to go to Weems.

“Wait, wait please! Don’t leave me here with her, I’m begging you!” Tyler cried and whined, knowing that Wednesday wouldn’t stop. But, Bianca left, just like everyone else, leaving only you, Wednesday and tied up Tyler in the shed.

“Wednesday, please! I’m not the monster! And even if I was you’re alone now!” he tried, he bargained, he wasn’t aware of the full circumstances he was in.

“Not quite. Trust me, I’m more than enough to handle you,” you spoke and he froze as he realized you were there as well. “You didn’t think I’d leave her here alone with you, did you Galpin?” you came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, zapping him lightly, not any harder than Wednesday’s taser, but he definitely felt it. “Talk,” you demanded.

“I have nothing to say! I’m innocent!” he cried out.

“We know you’re not,” Wednesday stood next to you. “What is Laurel Gates using you for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you had to give it to him, he was good at hiding who he really was. You were almost tempted to believe him.

“Tyler, the body parts in the basement of the Gates mansion, what are they for?” she wasn’t giving up.

“Wednesday, please,” but he just kept begging, like a broken record.

“Who is Laurel Gates, Galpin? Come on now, either transform or talk, but don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” your eyes turned red and you released a strong burst of lightning around you, though you wouldn’t hit him with it unless he fought back he didn’t know that.

But he just kept whining, crying and begging for mercy and it wasn’t his crying that got you to pull Wednesday back. It was much simpler than that. “He’s not going to talk,” and you could see it in Wednesday’s eyes that she figured it out as well.

Not that it mattered, even considering the fact that Tyler was no longer tased or tortured in any other way, the police, let by Tyler’s father, came in and prevented any chance of Tyler talking.

You were ready to be taken away, but the police ignored you, courtesy of Weems trading in the information of Tyler’s abduction and location for your freedom. You glared at the woman as the police took Wednesday away. She wanted to avoid you attacking someone at the station, she could see the way you felt about Wednesday, and she wasn’t risking those feelings causing you to shift.

~X~

Wednesday was seething. Tyler was getting away with it and now he was gloating. Telling her about his victims, how their fear was delicious. And then, as if to make sure she completely understood the situation she was in, he leaned toward her, pulling her closer by the collar of her jacket.

“You have no idea what’s coming. And your raiju? That beast that you like? I’ll make sure to bring you her head,” he promised to hurt you, he promised to kill you and bring remains to Wednesday and the rage within her reached a boiling point as she seethed while staring at his retreating back. It was as if he really was innocent, that’s how he was behaving and Wednesday pushed the doors open and briskly walked outside. She needed to get away from him, otherwise she’d make her situation even worse than it already was.

When she stepped outside the police station she saw you sitting on the stairs, clearly you zapped from Nevermore to the station and Wednesday couldn’t help but feel her heart hammering nails against her chest.

You heard her coming out and got up right away. You looked concerned, worried about Wednesday and she just took a deep breath. Her time at Nevermore was more than likely over.

~X~

“Expelled?! You expelled her?!” you yelled, lightning bursting all around you and damaging Weems’ table where you were gripping it.

“Calm down Y/N. That’s the quid pro quo for sheriff Galpin not pressing kidnapping charges,” she explained, only fueling your rage even further.

“So, expel me too! I was just as involved!” why was Wednesday expelled why you got to stay?

Weems stood up, anger radiating from her in a way you never saw up until that point. And it was somehow fitting for her.

“You know as well as I do that I can’t expel you. Setting a raiju free would only tarnish Nevermore’s reputation,” she said it in a tone so low you nearly stopped glaring at her. Weems was imposing, but she was never intimidating like right now.

You didn’t back away though. “We’ll see how long you can stick to that,” you promised and blasted the doors open with your lightning.

~X~

Weems wasn’t the only one you were going to confront, but before you could deal with Tyler the only remaining way you could think off, Bianca and her Nightshades came up to you.

“I’m sorry we got Wednesday expelled, it wasn’t our intention,” you would let it go, you wouldn’t react to her words. “We just couldn’t let you torture him,” you couldn’t walk away from that. You turned around and walked up to Bianca.

“Bullshit! He murdered people!” you exclaimed, your anger making your eyes turn red and subsequently making Bianca and others step back.

“You and Wednesday tortured him!” Bianca snapped back, always the boldest of them all.

“And any one of us would have gone through much worse if we were the monster,” you reminded her that was how it worked, how it was for the outcasts.

“Y/N,” Wednesday calling your name calmed you down and your eyes went back to normal, her voice, her arrival put a stop to the argument you had with the Nightshades.

You turned around and saw her coming down the stairs. She really was leaving. “Wednesday,” you clenched your fist, feeling powerless to do anything about this.

“This isn’t over, I need you to stay alive, don’t pick unnecessary fights,” she stopped right in front of you, almost as if she was going to take hold of your hand, but changed her mind at the last moment.

You nodded. “I got this, and I’ll stay in touch with you, I promise,” you told her, which prompted her to slip a piece of paper into your hand.

“My address, if you send letters, or if you want to visit,” she said and you nodded once again, grasping her hand before she could pull it away.

“Be careful, especially until you get out of this town,” you rubbed circles into the back of her hand, much like you did the night Thing was stabbed.

Wednesday nodded, only pulling away from you when Bianca chose to speak up, to apologize for getting her expelled.

~X~

It’s only been hours since Wednesday left and you still weren’t willing to fully accept it.

It was the irony at its best. Because here you were, doing the exact thing Wednesday did when you left the room. You were laying on her bed, just staring at the ceiling. You should have been expelled as well, you should have went with her, you shouldn’t have just accepted her leaving. Now you were stuck in the remnants of her presence. Her scent, her half of the window and her part of the room, void of any color. If you concentrated enough you could almost hear her cello, you could hear Thing’s insistent tapping.

You could feel him jumping on your shoulder and pulling your collar.

Wait? What?

You sat up so abruptly Thing nearly tumbled off the bed. “Thing? What happened?” him being here wasn’t a good sign, no matter how nice it was to see him.

He began frantically signing and you tried to understand him, but you couldn’t follow.

“Wed-Wednesday is- Wednesday is what?!” you were getting frustrated, and so was Thing, as he began signing even faster, fumbling over words and making it impossible for you to figure it out. “Slow down! It’s terrible when you stutter!”

He gave up on signing and jumped down, running to your table. You followed him as he grabbed a pen and tried to write, but he didn’t have a piece of paper. Frustrated, he began tapping the morse code with the pen.

“Wednesday is in danger!” your eyes widened when you finally understood what he was saying. “Tyler and Thornhill took her! To Crackstone’s crypt!” you grabbed your phone as Thing slumped down onto the table, relieved that you got the message. You immediately called Enid, not caring one bit that she was with Ajax.

“Damn it, Enid, pick up!” but she wasn’t picking up as you took the knives you would hopefully stab deep into Tyler and Thornhill, Laurel, whatever her name was. You quickly called Ajax instead and nearly began yelling when he picked up. “Put Enid on the phone, now,” you demanded.

“She’s talking to Eugene,” he tried to tell you.

“Now Ajax!” you didn’t have time for this.

“Okay, okay, you’re on speaker!” you heard him telling Enid it was you.

“Y/N? Eugene told me Thornhill is Laurel!” Enid exclaimed.

“I know, she took Wednesday! I’ll take Thing to Poe’s statue, he’ll explain about Nightshades, take Ajax with you, bye!” you hung up before Enid could say anything and grabbed Thin as you ran and, much like a few nights ago, jumped off the balcony. Only this time you didn’t need to catch anyone, you just held Thing close to you and slowed down your fall enough to land without any injuries.

“I’ll go and get her, I promise,” you assured him as you ran toward the statue.

Thing just tapped that he knew against your palm.

You left him at the statue and threw your knife, zapping toward the crypt. The lake? It didn’t matter. You threw your knife right across it, zapping and catching it and throwing it again, not once looking at the water beneath you. It didn’t matter, the danger, the fear of water, all you knew was that Wednesday was stuck with a revenge driven lunatic and her pet monster that enjoyed slaughtering people.

~X~

The one person that ever made Wednesday feel fear stood in front of her, revived because of her blood and Laurel’s ritual. And he even thought she was Goody. Not that it mattered, he had used his telekinesis to keep her from moving.

Hypocrite, using outcast abilities while trying to wipe them out.

“Goody Addams, you will suffer the same fate you bequeathed me!” he promised as he approached her.

Wednesday glared at him as she tried to break free, but it was even stronger than Rowan’s telekinesis. She couldn’t do anything. She was powerless as he pulled out a knife. The flames flickered, and the glint of the blade made her more than aware of how this would end. She was alone, and she had no way to defend herself.

Doors burst open behind her and the moment of surprise cost Crackstone his chance to stab Wednesday, a knife passed right by Wednesday and she felt arms wrapping around her waist as she was pulled to the side and away from the resurrected man.

“Raiju, I see you found a new one, Goody Addams,” Crackstone growled as he recognized the ability you had.

“Hands off my Addams,” you… just had to… Didn’t you? Even if the threatening tone of your voice made Wednesday a bit more forgiving of what you said.

A/N: Raiju to the rescue! No mortal wounds for Wednesday, yet. Honestly, I feel like the middle of the chapter is a bit bare, so I might go back and add some more scenes, but as it is, I’m okay with this. Do tell me what you think about the chapter. Is the middle bare, or is it enough given the fact that I’m writing slightly altered canon and you could just go and watch the show instead of reading about it.

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #jenna ortega x reader

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