"Chuuya Soothing You During Your Period."

🦮💕🐈‍⬛

gojo x wife! y/n where megumi slips up and calls y/n mom since she helped raise him and gojo starts thinking about how they would be as parents?

Got ya! Love this request, hope you enjoy <3

Megumi accidentally calling Satoru's wife "mum"

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: basically the request above lol

Warnings: this is pure fluff so enjoy, wrote this on my way to Disneyland so look over any spelling mistakes lol

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul

Megumi always admired your tenderness. Since the day he met you when he was just a kid, you have grown on him like no one else. It seemed like you genuinely cared about him and his sister throughout this entire time, standing up for him when needed while leaving him for rest when he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Despite being the longtime girlfriend and now wife of a chaotic person like Gojo Satoru, you never lost your spark, your cool temper, your striking beauty. You are simply always the (y/n) he knows and secretly admires from head to toe. He never truly admitted it, but to him, you are like a mother, one of the most important people in his life, the pivotal point of his decisions.

It shouldn’t have been such a big surprise then when he accidentally called you mom in front of basically everyone.

A brief moment of thoughtlessness in the middle of pure chaos. He didn’t put much thought into his words until they eventually slipped off his tongue with no turning back.

“Can we talk about this later mom?”

Gojo stand right by your side, hand casually placed around your hip like usual when his eyes dart towards Megumi immediately. Did he hear that correctly? Did Megumi-chan just call you “mom”?

“What did you just say, Megumi-chan?”

Fuck fuck fuck. A wave of embarrassment rolls over Megumi immediately, gaze fixed to the ground. He just called you mom. Fuck, he just called you mom! Not only in front of Gojo, but Yuji, Nanami and Nobara. This is bad. Very very bad.

“Megumi…”, you breathe out, tears stinging in your eyes immediately.

While you were always keen to give Megumi the best life possible in this cruel world, you never imagined that he’d see you as someone this important in his life. You it’s not always easy, living with Satoru and you. After all, he is the most chaotic person you know while you are the complete opposite of him. It never seemed as if Megumi enjoyed your company this much. While staying with you more than with Satoru, nothing like that ever slipped off his tongue.

But right now, he called you mom. He really called you mom.

“Sorry”, he mumbles, turning away from your widen eyes.

Fuck, how embarrassing. You must think he’s a total freak for saying something like that. Especially given the fact that you and Satoru don’t have any kids yet. Was has gotten into him?

Nanami’s eyes are darted towards him in silence, Nobara and Yuji giggling to themselves while all Megumi is able to do is hiding his blushing face in his uniform. He needs to get away from here. Fast.

Faster than any of you are able to react, he storms out of the room, leaving especially Satoru and you in pure shock.

“I think he really called you mom, darling”, Satoru breathes out.

You wipe your eyes, tears threatening to fall down your eyes.

“I never thought he’d see me like this. It might seem a little stupid, but…Megumi is like a son to me. To know that he feels the same about me is just…so overwhelming…”

Satoru can’t help but admire you. That little blush that creeps up your face, how you smile into yourself like a little child. All these nights you spent by Megumi’s side, caring for him and his sister when sick, having serious conversations with him when he caused trouble.

It dawns to him. You’d be such a good mom. In fact, this is what you already are to Megumi. All this time, Satoru never thought about having his own kids. Still being young, putting you and potential kids in the risk of this cruel world. But seeing you like this, all flustered by Megumi’s innocent words, totally amazed by the word “mum”. Maybe, just maybe…The thought of a baby in your arms crosses his mind, how you hold its tiny hands while humming it to sleep.

“I will look after him”, you announce, fumbling with your hands nervously while everyone around you just stands there bamboozled.

“Hey”, you greet him gently, sitting down beside him on the bench that overlooks the whole area.

His head rests in his hands, gaze fixed on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to say that”, he begins rapidly.

You bring your legs up, hugging them tightly while smiling down at him.

“I don’t have a problem with that at all. It’s just that…I never thought you’d see me as something other than Satoru Gojo’s wife. But I don’t want to interpret too much into it. After all, it was just a slip of your tongue, right? Just wanted to make sure you don’t feel bad or something. Don’t worry about it.”

With one gentle rub of his back you get back up, ready to leave when he suddenly grabs your hand.

“This wasn’t an accident. I never got to know my biological mum. And since the day I’ve met Satoru and you, you were always something like a mother to me. I really admire and appreciate you, (y/n).”

Oh. Your eyes begin to water all over again, you can’t help but swallow him with your arms.

“I feel the same, ‘Gumi”, you matter against the crook of his neck, careful not to touch his hair.

“Now now, what’s going on here? Are you stealing my girlfriend, Megumi-chan?” Satoru’s voice suddenly questions from behind, making Megumi jump out of your grasp in an instant.

“You know you have a real talent for ruining someone’s moment, right?”, you comment dryly.

“See you, Megumi.”

With Satoru’s hand holding onto yours tightly, you wander down the way to Jujutsu High. What a precious boy he is. You couldn’t be prouder of Megumi. And knowing that you had such an effect on him…You feel like crying all over again.

“I hope you told them not to make fun of Megumi for saying that”, you break the silence, earning a little chuckle from Satoru.

“Nanami did that for me, don’t worry. What did you talk about earlier?”

“Just wanted to make sure he isn’t embarrassed and that I know it was just a slip of the tongue. Nothing to put too much thought in. But it seems like he really sees me as something like a…mother figure, I guess.”

“Doesn’t surprise me the slightest.”

Huh? Your eyes dart towards him, feet stopping right in their tracks.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, when he had to draw something, it was always the dogs, you and him. You holding his hand, you cooking, you kicking someone’s ass. Don’t you remember how everyone always thought you are his mother? All those years he looked up to you. It doesn’t surprise me that he sees you as his mum. But I should have seen it sooner, what a great mother you’d be.”

His explanation makes your heart skip a beat. Over the last years, you never lost a word over something like kids or being parents. After all, your situation was clear: you live in a world full of danger and death. No child should have to deal with this right from the start. But the way he looks at you with a warm smile, hand holding onto yours tightly. Does he mean…?

“I don’t know, Megumi’s words made me think about having our own kids.”

“Our own kids?”

You can’t believe your ears. Even though you never admitted it towards Satoru, the thought of having children definitely fills your heart with nothing but joy. And especially his kids…

“You already have been and would be such a great mother. What do you say, (y/n)? Mind if we try it?”

You aren’t able to answer. Instead, you let yourself fall into his already opened arms, giggling like an idiot. A child with Satoru Gojo, the love of your life. Yeah, this doesn’t sound bad at all. In fact, this sounds like heaven itself.

“I take this as a yes.”

“I’d love that”, you breathe out, pressing your lips against his longingly.

“You’d be such a great dad. I just know it”, you huff against his mouth, heart jumping up and down in joy.

“Even though I told Nobara and Yuji to make at least a little fun of Megumi-chan?”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

They are like father and daughter

saw one tiktok of someone just looking at his partner and crying it was so gojo coded

you're minding your own business on the couch, playing a game on your phone with blankets covering you up. you're comfortable and minding your own business until you hear a small sniffle.

you think nothing of it leaving it to your imagination until you hear another sniffle followed by another and it becomes a pattern until you can't ignore it any longer.

you look up, tearing your eyes away from your phone to see your boyfriend satoru staring at you with tears in his eyes. you sit up suddenly because it was so unexpected and abrupt to find your boyfriend crying.

'toru..what's wrong?'

his face crumples, more tears falling on his cheek. you panic, dropping your phone to make your way over to him.

'baby what's wrong?'

toru hiccups as you attempt to wipe his overflowing tears. he stammers, struggling to get out the words but you wait patiently for him to speak.

'you-you're-you're just too cute!' he sobs, falling on your shoulder. 'what if something happens to you and i'm not there?'

'toru what?'

'you're just so cute playing on your phone, I just want to protect you forever and keep you bundled up in the blankets forever.'

it takes all of your might to stifle your laugh and put in effort to console your poor boyfriend. 'toru i'm right here and nothing will happen to me.'

'you don't know that' he muffles into your shoulder.

'well...you can be there to protect me with your six eyes and what not, right?' you reassure, rubbing his back.

he hums a little taking a shaky breath before speaking, 'yeah. I can do that'

teehee, shopping with bf! katsuki for the first time is a whole new experience.

you dragged him to the mall under the pretense of just browsing. katsuki grumbles, complains the whole car ride, mutters something about how he'd rather "eat glass" than spend a weekend in a fluorescent-lit hellscape.

but the second you tug on his wrist and smile up at him, he shuts up and follows. what you don’t expect?

how much of a problem he becomes the second you enter the fitting room.

you're barely five minutes into trying on outfits when it starts. you step out, smoothing down a dress, turning side to side in the mirror.

you barely manage a “what do you think?” before he drops the phone he wasn’t even looking at and sits up straighter.

“turn around.”

you blink. “huh?”

“lemme see the back.”

you do. he whistles low, then squints. “try that in the other color.”

you raise a brow. “oh, so now you care?”

“tch. i care when it looks like that on you.”

from then on, it’s over. every. single. outfit. he's like that.

“yeah, do a little spin.”

“too tight in the chest. not that i’m complaining.”

“damn, sweets. you tryna kill me or sumthin'?”

he lounges on the little bench like he owns the place—legs spread, arms crossed, eyes locked on you like you’re center stage and he’s the only judge that matters. the store’s mirror might show you the front, but he’s giving full commentary on the back. and the sides. and the neckline.

he’s unreasonably hot while doing it too. hood half-up, jaw sharp, legs spread like he’s got thoughts about every skirt you shimmy into.

and the worst part? you start playing it up.

slipping out of the fitting room with a little strut. spinning slow just to watch his jaw tighten. running your hands down your sides, real innocent, then pretending not to notice the way he swears under his breath.

“you’re lucky we’re in public,” he grits when you try on a slinky little number that hugs way too close.

you blink. “so you like it?”

he growls. “i like it on the floor of our bedroom.”

you nearly explode.

one outfit later, you try something on that you already know is ridiculous—fluffy, sparkly, way too over-the-top—but you step out just to mess with him.

you expect him to laugh. maybe tease. instead?

he blinks once. then shrugs. “buy it.”

you pause. “wait… really?”

he smirks. “you look happy in it. that’s all i care about.”

by the time you're done, you're practically floating out of the store—arms light, mood lighter, cheeks a little sore from how much you've been grinning.

katsuki?

katsuki is not floating. katsuki is lugging six bags in one hand, two on the other, and somehow managing to balance the weirdly long one that holds the dress bag across his broad shoulders like a damn pack mule.

and the whole time? he looks pissed. jaw tight, bags slapping against his thighs as he stomps beside you.

you peek over at him, smiling sweetly. “you’re the one who said to buy everything, suki.”

“tch. only ‘cause you looked hot in it, dumbass.”

you giggle. “so it’s your fault?”

he stops walking. and glares. hard.

“i swear to god, if you say that again, i’m droppin’ all these bags and draggin’ you into the back of that h&m.”

you blink innocently. “so romantic.”

“try me, sweetheart.”

despite all his complaining, he doesn’t put a single bag down. not when you stop for a smoothie. not when you see a cute little accessory stand. not even when you wander over to look at shoes you’re not even planning on buying.

he just stands there, one foot tapping, arms full of pink and glitter and tissue paper, looking like a man who’s fought gods and monsters and still wasn’t prepared for the chaos that is dating you.

at one point, you lean up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.

“thanks for carrying everything,” you murmur.

he huffs. “yeah, yeah.”

you kiss him again, this time slower, lingering by the edge of his jaw. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

and that does get a response. his ears go a little red. his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but is physically restraining it.

“hmph. i better be,” he mutters, looking away like a child, shifting all the bags in one hand just so he can wrap the other arm around your shoulders.

still grumbling.

still red.

still the best, grumpiest mall boyfriend in existence.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ bc i love procrastinating and dont write the shit i should write lmao💜 hope you guys enjoyed!!

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 2.6k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this particular chapter, as exhausting as it was :DD

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 >>> coming soon!

(Megumi's POV)

I was confused.

The problem with chasing shadows is that sometimes, they start looking back.

I was in the archives again. Third time this week. I knew there was nothing new in these files — redacted lines, blank pages, ink that looked like it was burned off — but I kept coming back anyway.

Hope's a stupid thing. Fragile. Addictive.

I flipped open another folder. Same emblem on the top corner. Same damn font. Property of Operation: Blind Sun. Property of a nightmare. Screw this. I sighed, tossing the useless stash of paper to the table and walking out of the room, closing the door behind me. Kuroiwa was either stupidly blind or blindly stupid.

Either works.

Staring at redacted files until my eyes fell out never helped and never will help, so I decided I'm going rogue. Even if it gets me kicked out of here - which I'm actually yearning for. How am I supposed to find my family - or what was left of them, at least - if I can't use any and all resources I can find? That's why instead of turning right in the corridor, I veered left into the darkness. In the direction of the SUPERIOR PERSONNEL ONLY room. Some files were labeled CLASSIFIED. Others were marked FOR EYES ABOVE RANK.

But none of them said Fushiguro Megumi: Stop Being a Goddamn Idiot and Open This Sooner — which is exactly what they should’ve said.

The lock was easy. The badge swipe? Easier. They trained me to ghost into enemy territory, and I was using it to crack into my own military’s records. What a joke.

I didn’t care. I had one goal. One person.

Her name. That’s all I needed. I typed it in like I’d done a hundred times before.

GOJO, AKIRA.

And this time, it didn’t bounce me.

It opened a record.

Deployment: Special Division 02 – Black Unit Commanding Officer: SOKOLYEV, CMDR Second-in-Command: ARATA, LT Status: ACTIVE Clearance Level: LOCKED

I stared at the screen.

Kyle Sokolyev. Buzzcut.

She was under Buzzcut the entire time. The same man I’d passed in briefings. The same man who pretended not to recognize my last name. The same unit that operated under the same goddamn flag as me.

My fists slammed the desk.

Kuroiwa.

She knew. She’d known everything.

My pulse roared in my ears like gunfire. A traitor’s beat — not to the country, but to myself. I should’ve seen it.

I didn’t wait for permission. Or a vehicle. Or a file stamp. I stole a damn bike from the depot and rode.

(MILITARY BASE, SPECIAL DIVISION 02 - AKIRA'S BASE)

The base looked like any other: concrete, dust, half-salvaged wiring running like veins up the sides. But it felt different. A soldier at the gate blinked when I flashed my stolen clearance. “Uh. Sir? You’re… not from this base.”

“No,” I said. “I’m looking for someone. Gojo Akira. She’s registered here.”

“Private Gojo?” He frowned. “She shipped out early this morning.”

Damn it.

“Then someone she was close to,” I said without flinching. “Anyone she trusted. Ate meals with. Laughed around.”

The guy scratched his head. “Uh… I mean, she mostly kept to herself, but—yeah. There’s this one guy. Talks a lot. Name’s Renji. He used to get her to eat when she skipped meals.”

“Where is he?”

“Mess hall. Second corridor.” I nodded, walking into the base and going towards the hall. It smelled like steel trays and yesterday’s regrets. Soldiers slumped over half-eaten meals, boots scraping tile. I scanned until I saw him — mid-twenties maybe, hair a mess, knuckles bruised, eyes like he hadn’t slept since peace was invented.

I walked over.

“Renji?” I asked.

He looked up slowly, like he was used to being called for trouble. “Yeah?”

“I’m looking for someone. Gojo Akira.”

His face didn’t shift much — just this small, knowing pause, like a dot connecting in the back of his mind.

“Oh,” he said. A faint smile, like he knew something I didn’t. Like he recognized me.

I didn’t press. “Do you know where she went?”

He nodded, pushed his half-eaten tray aside. “Shipped out early this morning. Left with Lieutenant Arata.”

My hands curled around the edge of the bench. “Do you know why?”

Renji scratched his neck, sighing softly and speaking. "I supposed it had to do something with these papers she's been studying non-stop. Something about her dad. Come on.” He stood and started walking, leading me to the barracks.

The room was quiet. Lived-in but stripped clean. Two bunks, one top, one bottom. Renji motioned to the lower one.

“She’s been studying these,” he said, crouching and reaching under the bedframe. “Secret files. She wouldn’t let anyone touch them, but… you’re not just anyone, are you?”

I didn’t answer.

He pulled out a folded pack of documents — ragged at the edges, creased from sleepless nights. He passed them to me.

“She never said your name,” Renji added quietly. “But I figured it out.”

I opened the folder.

Classified logos. Operation stamps. Maps. Coordinates. Codenames. Redacted lines stacked like barbed wire. I barely blinked. My fingers traced through them, eyes scanning for something — anything — that would tell me where she went.

Then something slipped loose.

A photo.

It fluttered down into my lap.

I stared at it.

It was us.

Just a day — random, forgettable to anyone else. I was maybe nine. She was grinning wide, arms thrown around my neck, and I was mid-sigh, clearly trying not to smile.

We looked happy.

I swallowed hard.

“She kept it in the folder,” Renji said, voice low behind me. “Wouldn’t let it go, even when she got yelled at for bringing personal stuff into briefing.”

I folded the photo back into the file. My throat burned.

“Do you know where they went?” I asked.

Renji shook his head. “No. But it’s all in there. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.” I nodded, offering a tight smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. Renji nodded his head, offering the same smile.

Except his looked more sympathetic and emotional.

I stood up, tucking the files into my bag gently and fixing my gloves, looking around. I had to find her, and I would. No matter what.

"Good luck. She'll be glad to know you still care," Renji said, silent support and understanding in his booming voice. Why would she think I didn't care?

It made me pause for a moment, but the thought was pushed to the back of my mind when I was out of the base. The drive to my base was exhausting, mentally wrecking. Everything happening was driving me insane.

And that insanity drove me further to find the truth. -----------------------

The file folder lied splayed open across the floor.

Gloves were off. Jacket on the ground. I'm sitting cross-legged, hunched over, every classified paper spread around me like the wreckage of a storm.

At first, I was just skimming, frustrated — trying to pinpoint anything concrete.

But then I realized something was off.

The first highlight’s yellow. The next… is red. Then green. Then blue. Then red again. And the pen strokes are slightly slanted, different. Not military issue. Not regulation.

Then it clicked.

She was talking to me.

I scrambled, dragging the lamp closer, pulling the files into a line.

Some highlights are in thick, angry strokes — military-issued. Others? Finer. Smaller. Like someone was trying not to be noticed. And she repeated a pattern — yellow, red, green, blue, red.

A cipher.

I pulled out my notebook, copying the words only highlighted in her color. The phrases they formed.

I'm stupid.

"They’re lying about Satoru." "Arata trusts you." "If you see this, I need you." "Find me before they do."

And then finally — one more line, tucked in a page with nothing else on it:

"Only you would’ve seen this."

I clenched the papers in my hands, feeling tears build up. My mind drifted back to the photo I saw earlier.

I could remember the moment the photo was taken. What she said. How she smiled. How she looked at me as if I were her whole world. Maybe I never looked back. But it was time to now.

"I hate you as much as I would love to kiss you right now," a soft whisper fell from my lips, something cracking the wrong way in my heart. I was so, so, so blind. I needed to find her ASAP.

I didn't care she had a layer of protection from Buzzcut and Arata over herself. Didn't care the two were smart enough to dodge a nuclear bomb seconds before it exploded. I needed to help her. If I don't, I don't want to know what could happen.

I'm pretty sure that earlier, I didn't deserve that smile of hers. But I'll be damned if I don't earn it now.

------------------

I slept over everything. Let the situation fully settle in my gut - let the fact she trusted me so much settle in completely. I can't fuck up now.

The hallway was too quiet for this hour. Morning briefings usually meant chaos - boots scuffing tile, radios crackling, half-eaten rations tossed on crates - but today, even the static felt like it was holding its breath.

I adjusted the strap of my sidearm as I passed the old west wing of Base D-7. Rust bloomed on the steel walls like rot, and for a second, I caught my own reflection in the window - a little older, a little harder around the eyes. I hated mirrors now. All they ever did was show me who I was without her.

Without my family.

A low whistle cut through the air. A junior tech—Rei, I thought—waved me over with a sealed file in hand.

“Sir, we picked up something odd,” she said, voice low. “Encrypted activity log triggered a ghost alert. Registered as unlicensed movement… but the trail is too clean. Almost like someone wanted us to find it.”

I frowned. “Where?”

She hesitated. “Sector 09.”

I blinked. “That’s not real. There’s no Sector 09.”

“I thought the same. But the log’s real. Timestamped, with geo-pings routed through backdoors only the black-ops used during Blind Sun’s peak.”

That name made my gut twist.

I grabbed the file. Flipped through sharp paper. A chill slipped down my spine - coded phrases, static glitches, bits of phrases I knew by heart.

My heart dropped. No.

I ran a hand through my hair, skin buzzing. “This pattern - it’s her,” I whispered. “It’s Akira.”

Rei blinked. “Sir?”

“She’s alive. Or she was. She left this trail.” I was already walking, then running toward Command. “She’s in Sector 09.”

“But that place—”

“I don’t care what the map says.” My voice was sharp, laced with steel. “If she’s there, I’m going in.”

I didn't wait for a car - yet again, just dragged the stolen bicycle with me and followed the coordinates. If Satoru ever taught me something useful, it was how to easily navigate using coordinates, even in dire situations such as this one.

------------------

Sector 09. I was confused, yet again.

Why was I at the Horizon Lot? There used to be an arcade here when Akira and I were kids. Akira's family always parked on spot 11B, mine took place 10A.

I carefully stepped into the parking lot, looking around. Something was terribly off. Usually, it took a good lot to make me feel insecure and scared.

Now, shivers ran up my spine non-stop and my eyes started watering without reason.

I shivered again, breath coming out in white clouds. I didn't know what cold was, but it was clear now that I was here.

And that Akira was possibly in a life-or-death situation.

Falling into step, I quickened my pace. There was no time to lose.

My pulse thudded in my ears as I sprinted down the corridor, the walls closing in on me. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay, mixed with something sharper—burnt ozone, the sting of something metallic, something wrong.

My boots pounded the slick concrete floor, the echoes bouncing off the narrow passageways that seemed to get tighter the further I pushed. The walls—half-machine, half-stone—were like a grave, cold and unforgiving. They didn’t belong in a place like this.

Sector 09 shouldn’t have even existed. But here I was.

A flash of red on the floor caught my attention.

Blood.

Fresh. The dark, rust-colored smear was splattered across the ground, trailing off at an angle, like someone had been dragged or stumbled. My throat tightened, breath catching. I knelt, fingers hovering just above the floor. My eyes darted over the bloodstains, tracing the path.

Then I saw them.

Footprints.

One set was deeper, heavier - someone wearing tactical boots. But the second set, faint against the backdrop of scuffed floors, was lighter. Smaller.

The weight of the tread wasn’t right either. Too soft. Too quick.

My stomach dropped.

Akira’s footsteps.

The hollow pit in my chest swelled with dread. My heart hammered, the rhythmic thudding a constant reminder of how far behind I was.

“No…” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. “No, no, no…”

She has been here.

My hands clenched into fists at my ides as I pushed myself upright, mind reeling. She had to be okay. She had to be. I was almost there. Almost close enough to...

The next thing I found nearly stopped his heart.

A comm-unit. Standard military issue. Its casing was cracked, one side busted open, wires dangling out like veins. I dropped to one knee, the urgency propelling me forward.

It was still faintly warm.

My fingers brushed the comm’s interface, testing it for any residual charge. I could feel the heat—fresh, as though it had been dropped only moments ago.

My breath hitched. She dropped it. It wasn’t just lying there; it had been discarded, left behind in a rush. A moment of panic. Or something worse.

I swallowed hard, chest tight.

The comm-unit was cracked, but it wasn’t beyond repair. If I could just get a signal out—maybe it wasn’t too late.

But as I reached for my own device, a strange sense of dread settled over me. I was missing something. Something important. The walls seemed to close in further, the corridor stretching out in front of me like a tunnel, growing darker with every step I took.

I snapped the comm-unit into my belt. The place was a trap—it had to be.

I didn’t care. I was getting her out. No matter the cost.

A scream interrupted my train of thought. It wasn't Akira's scream; I knew that the moment I heard it. Nevertheless, it made me freeze.

It came from somewhere below the ground.

What was going on?

Something smashing and unsettling, almost eerie sounds of cracking echoed through the empty, rusty parking lot, sending a pang of uneasiness and dread straight to my core. Shit.

I pushed harder, running faster, my legs burning as I followed the sounds of destruction. I had to find her. I had to make sure she was okay.

The walls shook, like something massive had just breached the ground. The sound of shattering glass and metal split the air. The whole place groaned, like a beast awakening from a long sleep.

I grabbed one of the grenades attached to my suit, throwing it at the wall from behind which the sounds seemed to be coming from.

I ran back quickly, protecting my face from flying debris and rubble, the sound of explosion deafening me for a moment before I looked up through the dust and caught those eyes.

Cerulean blue, like the sky before the war. Pristine white hair, wild and long.

----------------- taglist: @crimsonhallucinations

Canon

shhhhhh i’m hiding from canon. it can smell fear

fuck my annoying ass dog

in which: megyn cuddle + annoying kuro

pairing: megumi x f!reader

masterlist

megumi was tired.

a long day of exercising curses, all he wanted in this moment was to collapse into bed and pull yn into his arms. no barking or whining, just wuiet.

but apparently that was too much to ask for.

because the moment he wrapped his arm around yns waist, the divine dog growled.

not a soft whine like when megumi didnt bring back treats, a warning growl.

megumis fingers barely touched yns hip again before the growl got louder. his brain took a second to process it before his face turned into a scowl.

he glanced down at the divine dog, who was currently trying to wedge itself between him and yn. its head pressed against yns stomach.

yn, meanwhile,. was sleeply giggling, her face buried against megumis chest.

megumi sighed. “did you just growl at me, kuro?”

the dog did not blink or waver.

it stood its ground, its eyes sharp like megumi was an intruder in his own dorm.

yn lifted her head slightly, peekijg up at him. “theyre just protective, megs.”

protective, against megumi. yns boyfriend. their summoner.

megumis eyes narrowed. “shes literally my girlfriend”

the dog did not care. if anything, it pushed itself closer to yn, pressing its entire weight into them as if shielding her from megumi.

“you cant be serious.”

yn reached down and scratched behind its ear. “its cute.”

“no, its not.”

it was annoying, he could barely touch his own girlfriend without his own technique getting in the way.

megumi stared down the dog with the most unimpressed look imaginable. which was reflected on the dog. “i summon you, you exist because of me. you should be on my side.”

the dog blinked. then had the audacity to turn its head away.

because megumi wasnt worth looking at.

megumi exhaled sharply. “fine”

yn, still giggling, tilted her head. “are you pouting, megs?”

“no.”

megumi absolutely was pouting.

and it only got worse when kuro curled against yns stomach, blocking megumi from touching her.

yn ran her fingers through kuros fur. “guess you have to work for their trust, too.”

“i dont need their trust, i need my girlfriend back.”

kuro didnt move.

megumi sighed heavily, sinking deeper into the mattress. he should have desummoned the shikigami already, but he was too tired. instead he settled for grumbling under his breath.

reader reached out, gently running her fingers through megumis hair, scratching at the scalp. the tension in his shoulders giving away.

megumis eyelids drooped, huffing out a breath. “this is so unfair.”

“youre cute when your grumpy, megs”

megumi grumbled something unintelligible before wrapping an arm around her back—and the dog growled again.

“oh my fucking gosh.”

❝𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝❞

Royalty AU || Crown Prince Megumi x Reader

"Either way, you weren’t supposed to catch the eye of the Crown Prince. But you did — not because you tried to impress him, but because you didn’t."

wc: 2.1k warnings: none :)

part 2

The capital was alive tonight.

Festival banners flapped from balcony rails and rooftop chimneys, catching on the breeze like ribbons loosed from a dancer’s hair. Lanterns painted the cobblestone roads in soft orange, fluttering shadows of people moving together, laughter spilling into the humid air. Merchants sang out their prices with theatrical flair, children darted through alleys with sweet-stained mouths, and musicians strummed wild, joyful notes like the world might end tomorrow.

You were halfway through a skewer of grilled eel when the drums began to roll.

“Must be the opening ceremony,” someone murmured beside you, eyes turned toward the main pavilion at the center of the square. You followed their gaze only briefly, already familiar with the routine — the arrival of the royal family, the crown prince's cold, obligatory speech, the nobles parading their newest silks.

You wiped your hand on your sleeve and turned away before the first horn blew.

It wasn’t that you disliked the royal family. You just didn’t care for the spectacle — for the desperation in the way people craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the gilded puppets who ruled the realm from their marble towers.

You weren’t here for the crown.

You were here for the chaos. The color. The sense that, for one night a year, everything felt real.

Which was why you didn’t notice him at first.

You were leaning against a stone wall, drink in hand, watching a group of fire dancers carve patterns into the night sky. The scent of charred cinnamon and plum wine hung in the air, dizzying. Around you, the crowd stirred and shifted. Whispers rippled out from the direction of the royal carriage — excitement, reverence, awe.

And then the hush.

The kind that falls when something sacred enters a room.

You didn’t bow. You didn’t crane your neck like the rest. You simply turned your head and looked.

And that’s when it happened.

Your eyes met his.

Crown Prince Megumi Fushiguro stood a few meters away, half-shadowed by the guards at his side and the height of the ceremonial platform. He was dressed in deep navy and obsidian black, a sharp contrast to the lanternlight glow that softened everyone else. His hair was pulled back, silver threading the edge of his collar, and a ceremonial sword rested at his hip.

He looked like something carved from dusk.

He was already scanning the crowd — out of duty, you guessed. The kind of passive observation someone in power did automatically. But when his gaze passed over you, it stopped.

Not paused.

Stopped.

And held.

You blinked, surprised. Not by the fact that he was looking — but by the way it felt.

Not hungry. Not judgmental. Just… curious. As if he were trying to figure out what exactly it was about you that didn’t match the room.

Your heart knocked once, uncertain.

You didn’t bow. You didn’t look away. You simply raised one brow in return — a small, almost amused expression. Not mocking. Just present. Undaunted.

You weren’t supposed to catch the eye of the Crown Prince. You weren’t a noble. You weren’t dressed in silk or painted in powdered makeup. You weren’t fawning or smiling or trying to be noticed.

But you had his attention.

And you knew better than to show it affected you.

So you turned away first.

You didn’t expect anything to come of it.

The festival carried on. The dancers performed. You wandered through back alleys and vendor stalls, slipping through the thick of the crowd without ceremony or fanfare.

But hours later — long after the sky turned navy and the music dulled — you returned home and found something odd.

Tucked just inside your windowsill was a piece of folded parchment, weighted down by a small violet.

You stared at it for a long moment.

You hadn’t left the window open. No one had access to your home. You lived in the upper floor of a bookshop, above the creaking floors and scent of aged paper, and the only one who knew your habits was the shopkeeper’s cat.

You unfolded the paper slowly.

Neat handwriting. Sharp strokes. Precise lettering.

"You didn’t say much, you didn’t need to. That’s what I liked about you."

No name. No title. Just that.

And the flower.

Your throat tightened. You didn’t want to believe it — but deep down, you already knew. You remembered that stare. The weight of it. The way his eyes had followed you not like a predator, but like a question.

You turned the note over.

Blank.

You reread it once. Twice.

Then you tucked it away in a drawer and told yourself it meant nothing.

But of course, the world wasn’t kind enough to let it go.

Because three days later, you saw him again.

You were crossing the narrow bridge near the west gardens, a shortcut to the shop. The early morning mist still clung to the stone, curling around your boots like smoke.

You didn’t expect to see anyone there.

So when the figure appeared from the other side, you froze.

He wasn’t dressed like a prince this time.

No crown. No royal colors. Just simple dark fabric, travel-worn boots, and gloves tucked into his belt. But you knew. The way he walked — steady, upright. The way he carried himself like someone who bore weight on his shoulders no one else could see.

Megumi Fushiguro.

You stopped at the center of the bridge.

So did he.

A silence stretched between you.

Then.

“You didn’t bow,” he said.

It wasn’t a reprimand. Just an observation.

You lifted a brow, mirroring the expression he’d given you days earlier. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

His mouth twitched. The smallest shadow of amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting you to remember me,” you added, tone light.

“I wasn’t expecting to notice you,” he replied evenly. “But I did.”

The air between you stilled.

You swallowed. “Is that why I found a flower on my windowsill?”

“I don’t leave flowers for just anyone.”

There was something quiet in his voice. Not flirtation — no, he didn’t seem the type for that. It was something else. Something real. Unadorned.

You stepped closer, just slightly, until only a few feet separated you. The mist curled higher.

“Why?” you asked.

“Why the flower?”

“No. Why me?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dipped, just once, to your hands — ink-stained from morning deliveries, fingers curled loosely against the chill.

Then he looked up again.

“You didn’t try,” he said.

You frowned.

“You weren’t trying to be seen,” he clarified. “You didn’t perform. You didn’t pretend. You just... were. In a world full of people shouting to be noticed, you were quiet. And you meant it.”

Your heart stuttered.

No one had ever spoken to you like that before.

And certainly not him.

The Crown Prince.

You don’t know what possessed you to do it — boldness, madness, maybe the intoxication of being seen — but you smiled. Just faintly. The way a person smiles when they finally stop holding their breath.

“You shouldn't be out here alone,” you said softly.

“And you shouldn’t talk to me like we’re equals.”

“Are we not?”

That earned you the smallest crack in his composure — a breath of a laugh, hushed and tired and real.

“Careful,” he murmured. “People lose their heads for less.”

“I’ve already lost mine,” you said. “Might as well use what’s left of it to say something honest.”

His eyes lingered on you.

Like he was memorizing something he shouldn’t want to keep.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he took one step back.

“This bridge doesn’t exist tomorrow,” he said, voice lower now. “Not officially.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “But if it did, I might be passing it again. Just before dawn.”

You didn’t speak.

But when he walked past you, his sleeve brushed yours.

And it was the softest thing you’d ever felt.