Maybe If We, As A Society, Spent More Time In Gardens Things Wouldn’t Be Like This

maybe if we, as a society, spent more time in gardens things wouldn’t be like this

the lion and the lamb

member: enhypen sunghoon

synopsis: what would you do if you found out your boyfriend is a mythical creature?

genre: established r/s with sunghoon <3; twilight! au because why the fuck not; fluff; smut, angst

warnings: blood and... idk vampire kinks...?

wc: 3k

a/n: for niwa @haechanhues, who struggles to stay a jungwon stan <3 i wanted to write this with more vigour and like, idk, make it spicier? but everytime i think about a vampire story i can't help but think about all the other things that a story conveniently omits. like what does the family do? won't they find out that oc is NOT aging? is oc not fucking worried about being alive forEVER? so this ended up angstier and fluffier than i expected it to, so advanced apologies to niwa who wanted smth spicier 😀 p.s this is my first smut for a vampire au + a member younger than me so please don't fucking attack me. sunghoon is legal, this is fiction, we know he's not a fucking vampire.

"i knew it!" you screech and reach behind for a table lamp, messily holding it up to his face as you clutch the night stand and knocking over the family photo in the process. "i fucking knew it."

sunghoon's eyes widen, then he bursts into an arrogant chuckle. "baby, a desk lamp wouldn't do anything to me, you know this."

with a huff, you put the lamp back down, clearing your throat and crossing your arms across your chest. "is... is that why we had that whole... that entire night talking about vampires and mythical creatures... wasn't just a conversation? you were just... telling me stories about what you know?"

"maybe," his lips curl downwards by the corners and he nods. "come on, cut it out, would you? it was just a matter of time before you found out."

"oh- and when were you going to tell me?"

"when did you figure it out? did you suspect anything prior to this?"

"what?" a frown cements into your forehead. you try to move back a little more, but you push more things off your nightstand when you realise you can't back up any more. sunghoon had his hands in his jogger's pockets, stepping in a strange zig-zag manner towards you. "i... your sports are all indoors and you jog in the night- i just thought you hated people- no! no, you tell me when you were gonna tell me-"

"i mean i hated people before."

and then he swings a leg out, falling backwards into your bed and rolling over to pull a pillow into his face. he inhales sharply, arms tightening around it as you hear your heart race in your chest.

"oh...!" you turn and step backwards, this time against your wardrobe. "you're a- oh! this better be a joke. this has to be a joke."

"why?" his muffled voice sounds from under the pillow, and you can see his toes wriggle into your carpet. your lips part in a bid to hurl more accusations at him - if you could even believe yourself - but sunghoon lifts the pillow off his face and sits up, resting his palms in the mattress by his hips. "you saw my eyes change when we were at the butcher's. i'm not denying it."

a lock of hair topples over his forehead, and he cocks his head. "wanna see it again?"

gulp.

he blinks, and his dark eyes flit into a bright yellow. blink. dark.

"fuck off, how'd you do that?"

sunghoon smiles, and your heart drops when you see his canine teeth. they've always been long, and absolutely mesmerising to look at, but only now you've realised-

"you've had your fucking fangs out the entire time and- oh...!!!!!!"

sunghoon suddenly rises to his feet, striding to you in barely a few steps. you've backed up against the wardrobe again before he holds your face and leans down, abruptly pressing his lips against yours.

your fists are balled against his chest, but your harsh pants against his calm demeanour cools you. cold fingers dig behind your ears as he parts his lips, tongue gently coming over yours in a bid to remind you that it was still him.

the truth doesn't change who he is.

he remains cupping your face as he slows, then he breaks the kiss only to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner," he whispers, shaking his head. lids flutter open to reveal bright amber eyes. "i thought about it for a long while and i wanted... i wanted to tell you for the longest time but you were always so caught up with other things and i didn't want to tell you over christmas."

"rotten idea of a christmas gift."

"i know," sunghoon grins and sucks his teeth between his lips as he backs away.

"hey, um..." you clear your throat and rub the back of your neck, blinking from the floor and back up to him. he rests his hands on your waist, his amber eyes glimmering down at you. using his nose to push your jaw aside, he plummets into your neck, and you can hear him inhale so harshly, it runs chills down your spine.

"you're not gonna kill me, are you?"

"no," he chuckles lowly into your skin, pressing fragile kisses into your skin like it were glass. his breathing has turned erotic and harsh and irregular, so you're naturally on edge more than before. "if i wanted to kill you, i would've a long time ago, my love. but..."

he pulls away and lifts a hand up to your chin, tilting it upwards so your eyes would meet his. "i'm much too in love with you to make you an exception."

"you're not exactly making me feel better with whatever you're saying, you know that, right?"

sunghoon giggles, baring his teeth and stroking your cheek. but the hand that had been previously on your waist was slowly moving downwards, over the curve of your bosom and his fingers are digging into your flesh.

"i know, but you like that anyway."

he presses a smiling kiss to your lips, not hesitating to drop both his palms to your rear and picking you up instead. he does it effortlessly, which makes you wonder how many times he's acted like he was struggling when really, he could've probably carried a few of you.

your back meets the wall of your room and your fingers crawl up into his hair on the back of his head, the scent of his cologne masking all your senses and breaking down all your walls as if you didn't just find out your boyfriend was a lethal, mythical creature.

"hoon," sighing, you break the kiss.

"hm?" he uses his nose to tilt your chin up, tongue darting over the skin on your neck. his lips press into a bundle of nerves, and he smiles to himself when he notices your shoulders cringe upwards.

"haven't you ever thought about... you know."

"i don't know what you're talking about, baby," his whispered breath draws tickles from you, and you bite on your bottom lip to hide the growing desire.

"my blood. haven't you ever thought about it?"

he presses one last kiss into your neck - one that would probably leave a mark and he did it deliberately, you're sure - then comes back up to search your eyes with his bright amber ones.

"i have," he pauses. something is holding him back. "but human blood tastes different from an animal's. it's addicting and given how long i've gone without having it... i could drain you on my own if there's no one around to stop me."

it's like being surprised you got slapped in the face when you were the one who asked, really.

sunghoon releases an exasperated chuckle, looking down and hoisting your hips up so you wouldn't slip down further. his hands travel up your hips and waist and to your face where he cups your cheeks, thumb brushing over your cheekbones.

so this is why his hands were always cold.

"i can't afford that. to kill you."

"so don't."

something glimmers in his eyes, and his hold on your cheeks tighten just the slightest bit. a little squint; his lips part.

"no," he shakes his head, lips curling downwards as he shakes his head with disapproval. "no."

"no one will know."

"everyone will know. what are you, stupid?"

you shake your head, wanting to hit him as a natural reflex. he says that all the time.

but you suck in a deep breath and rest your head in his hand, closing your eyes to let the coolness in his fingers seep into your skin. "hoon... anything to be with you for the rest of my life, even if it means forever."

when your eyes open, he's tearing up. his glistening amber eyes are twinkling under the dim lighting in the room. for a few seconds, you can hear every breath he takes, if he even is actually breathing.

"i can't," he shakes his head, looking away and grimacing to himself. "you're still young. i can't-"

"it wouldn't make a difference. i'll just be stuck at 19 for the rest of my life. what, do you want to wait until i'm 50 and scrunching up into a raisin then turn me immortal? besides... i have no one else except you."

sunghoon laughs, but he quickly recovers and turns back to look at you. "i just... i love you. i wasn't supposed to get involved with humans, but you... it just had to be you. you, who has no strings attached to this world."

sucking your lips between your teeth, you reach up and brush his hair out of his eyes. "i just wish i knew you sooner, maybe then you could've helped my parents."

sunghoon breaks.

not in the form of breaking out into sobs or giving you a tight hug, but instead, he kisses you with cold tears streaming down his cheeks.

you can taste them when it sets between your lips, but it doesn't taste like salt.

it tastes like water.

"if you choose this then you'll live for the rest of your life, you know that, don't you?" he mumbles between light kisses, then presses his forehead into yours. he rubs his nose against yours, his eyes fluttered shut with a gentle frown between his brows. "that means you won't get to see your parents again, since that's what most people believe."

"i know. but i wanna live the rest of their lives for them too, so."

he takes a moment to process your words, then whispers the words, "i love you".

with that, he holds you away from the wall and slots his lips between yours again. he gently sets you in the bed, palms pressing into the mattress by your head as he almost kisses you into the cushion.

your hands are curved over his shoulders, fingers tracing his hairline on the back of his neck when he reaches down to pull off your shorts. long, slender fingers trace your hip and downwards until you let out a soft gasp into his mouth, with cues a sneaky smirk from him.

"it'll hurt less with this, i promise," he kisses your nose, then your forehead, and removes your lingerie. his nose dips into your jaw just as he does, a sudden surge of nervous bundles coming undone everywhere.

with your fingers digging into his shoulders, he continues leaving butterfly kisses on your neck, until the sharp tips of his fangs slide across your skin.

the entire bed is jerking, though just a tiny bit. and your soft whining is muffled into his shoulder. his shirt is being balled into a crumple in your fist, and then a sharp sting sinks into your neck like two needles at once.

then you can feel the latch of his lips onto the wound.

something clicks.

maybe it was him finally getting a taste of human blood, for he abruptly stops, and his torso is crouched over yours in sheer animalistic feeding.

his shoulder blades are shifting in and outwards, breath heavy on your jaw and under your nose with his hands on your shoulders, pinning you down into the mattress.

the cotton under your shoulder dampens. the texture starts to soak, and the lightheadedness starts to sink in.

sunghoon is in a trance you don't think you have the power to snap him out of, but the harsh breaths tell you he's thinking; trying his very best to fight against his instincts.

but maybe it was the blood that made him tick too, for he suddenly pulls out from below and rams back into you. the entire bed jerks loudly from the friction between the bed frame and the flooring.

a gentle yelp courses through your throat as your nails dig deeper into his back. his pace picks up as he drains you from your neck, and your eyes are starting to roll back into your head. your vision is started to blur, mind beginning to fade out into static with his tongue lapping against your neck like a beast starved for an eternity and his hips rolling against yours.

your hair is starting to get blood in it, but you don't have the headspace to think about how disgusting it is. you're tearing up from the force he's gradually forcing up into you, and he's struggling to tear himself away from you before you die of blood loss.

"hoon-" an airy whisper manages to leave your lips. "i'm gonna-"

he groans into your neck as a form of acknowledgement. he's trying to stop himself, but he's struggling. his teeth start to loosen from your skin, but then it sinks back in. the sting comes out in a soft whimper from you, but everything down below is a gratifying distraction.

"hoon, i'm gonna come."

and it's like a magic spell that worked - for he forcefully removes himself from your neck and hovers above you, his hands coming off your shoulders and resting around the circumference of your head.

half his face is covered in blood, a good amount of it around his lips and some smudged on the tip of his nose.

his eyes are hooded, and red.

"you taste... so fucking good," his voice is lower and hoarse, and his tongue darts out all around his mouth in a bid to savour whatever he has left of you on his face. "shame you wouldn't have that to offer me anymore."

he dips his nose into your neck again, and you'd half expect him to start sucking you dry - but he doesn't. a quick swipe across your neck and the sting disappears.

the scent of blood starts to cloud your mind.

he must've seen something in your eyes change, for he dumps all his weight into his torso when he leans down to kiss you again. the iron in your own blood tastes like caffeine to a coffee lover; honey to bees.

and then he picks up his pace again, this time pulling your thighs higher so he can keep them off the floor. when he pulls away, his palms come around your neck, holding you tightly to the bed as the sound turns inconsiderately loud.

everything in the room blurs, then sharpens. birdsongs outside seem louder - but so do his pants and laboured breathing. every slap churns through you like a gong being sounded.

something creaks - it's the bed - and then something definitely snaps or breaks or fractures.

throwing your head back, his thumb is gentle on your throat, holding you still while he fucks the rest of your humanity out of you.

"hoon, i-"

"i know, i know," he huffs and smiles, almost sinisterly. he leans forward, releasing your throat and pressing another kiss to your nose. "forever and for the rest of our lives."

the bed breaks just as your entire body shivers and shudders under him. your muscles twitch and spasm under his hold as his fingers travel down the length of your body, as if searching for any sign of injury as he pulls away.

his chest is heaving when he's finally removed himself, but he lifts you without much effort and away from the puddle of soaked blood in the sheets.

"sorry about that," he rests his forehead against yours, using his thumb to wipe away the blood smudged on your cheek. you know it's not really helping.

but you're in your own trance now. everything in the room seemed to be moving in swirls, and your vision was blurred. there's a sharp ringing in your ears, mixed with all the noises from outside.

he's trying to talk to you, holding onto your shoulders and pushing your hair out of your face. but then he steps away for a few moments to your desk, rummaging through the drawers for a moment.

then his blurred figure returns, and he holds out a wrist above your face as he drives the edge of a penknife through his own sheet-white skin.

the blood oozes out, then drips onto your lips and between your teeth where you finally have a taste of it.

"come back..." the words sound muffled. "hang in there, it'll be over soon..."

what were a few moments felt like an eternity as your mind and body feels like it was being ripped apart and stitched back together, and you're sure you passed out, for the next thing you can process was abruptly sitting up in bed and huffing, hands clutching the collar of your shirt with sunghoon sighing in relief as he topples to the floor.

he sighs heavily, hand holding his wrist where he had cut himself.

"you gave me a good scare there," he raises a brow, obviously tired. his face is still in a mess, and his eyes are a gorgeous crimson red, which made you think - what about mine?

you lick your lips, the taste of iron still lingering on your tongue as you stand. walking to your desk, you pull out a table mirror.

and there it was - a pair of crimson red eyes staring back at you. warily reaching up to your lips, you pull them back, expecting to see fangs in place of your canine teeth.

but sunghoon's arms come around your waist, and he snuggles his head into your neck where you had been bleeding (or being sucked out, actually).

"fangs will take awhile."

Tags

enhypen x reader enhypen imagines enhypen sunghoon sunghoon x reader enhypen smut enhypen sunghoon smut enhypen scenarios 🍷: enhypen (one-shot) sunghoon smut sunghoon imagines enhypen drabble sunghoon scenarios sunghoon angst enhypen sunghoon angst

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carengene

1 year ago

SO CUUUUTEEE 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

miss me if you want to — fushiguro megumi x reader

a/n: happy late birthday pookie wc: 3.6k megumi ends up at his old middle school for a mission, and reminisces on his time there, with you. fluff/humor, happy ending, gojo being his dad self

megumi kept his hands in his pockets as he scoped the halls of urami east middle school, desperately trying to ignore the entourage of sorcerers behind him and their barrage of questions. unfortunately for megumi, nobara just discovered a commonality. (“fushiguro, let’s go beat up that guy! for old time’s sake, you know!” “kugisaki, you can’t just point to every man and ask to beat them up. we don’t know anybody here! and you can’t say old times sake if you didn't even go here, right?”)

it took all his willpower not to turn around and curse them both back to jujutsu tech, their voices burning through his ears and building an irritation in his gut. any of his old classmates who recognized him seemed to gape, just before ducking their heads and scurrying down the hall. it didn’t give him much to work with regarding the assignment. his friends giggled, poorly hiding it behind their hands.

it was hard for the nostalgia of his middle school and the presence of old peers to settle in with the constant whispering behind him, even if part of himself wasn’t sure that he wanted to reflect on his time there. he remembered the cream-colored walls and tan uniform jackets being less harsh on his eyes, every memory he could recall was hazed over with a dark grime.

the smell of freshly waxed floors and chalk dust washed over him like waves, passing his old classroom’s doors that were propped open. he could hear the muffled lessons, and wondered the last time he really used any academics from–

“fushiguro, why don’t you have anything in the trophy case?” nobara pondered, dragging her finger along the glass border.

“they’ve gotta have one for the best stink-face, right?” yuji howled with laughter. “you’d totally win!”

“can you guys get it together? we’re not going to get anywhere if you keep messing around,” megumi said, not bothering to spare them a glance. he refused to prove itadori right with his stink-face. “go walk the south corridor, there’s a few offices for the staff, they might know something.”

“fushiguro,” yuji whined.

“go.”

reluctantly, his friends shuffled away. “yeah, i think we kind of pushed our luck that time,” nobara mumbled.

finally, he reveled in the silence. there was a bud of anxiety in his stomach, a nagging feeling that just around the corner would be a teacher to chastise him for his history of delinquency. on the other hand, the possibility of seeing one of the many faces he had beaten and bruised.

megumi rounded the corner that led to the library and various study rooms, keeping his gaze on the windows. he remembered the landscape being different, more sullen, but still captivating him as much. he remembered his frequent trips to the library when he wasn’t spending his time rounding together the bullies and failures that infested the school.

the library wasn’t special, but he could always–

“megumi?”

megumi’s eyes widened as he whipped his head forward. the voice, though unexpected, was unmistakable in his mind. his bud of anxiety bloomed when he saw you, your head tilted in the same bewilderment. out of all places, he didn’t expect to see you at the place you graduated, just over a year ago.

the fog that coated all his memories seemed to dissipate, recollection of you clouded with a glow that couldn’t compare to the way you looked now. your school uniform was haphazard, white button up untucked and rolled to your elbows and your dark jacket was discarded on the library cart you leaned on. your confusion washed away and your face was taken up by a bright smile, and with that megumi blushed furiously.

“y/n? i didn’t expect to see you here.” he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure, and closed the gap between you so all that was left in the way was the cart. you craned your neck to meet his gaze, he’d grown a bit. “don’t tell me they made you repeat.”

shaking your head, you laughed. he missed that. “you’re telling me, you’re supposed to be all the way at jujutsu tech. what are you doing here?”

“i asked you first.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. always so combative.

“i use my free period to help out here, it’s only like a five minute walk from the high school.”

megumi hummed. so you decided to stay close. it was always a toss up.

“so, how’s jujutsu tech so far? everything you wanted and more?”

megumi smiled, recalling the day he told you that’s where he would be attending, and you found it completely ridiculous. hilarious, even. a religious school, for him? if you hadn’t met gojo before you would have thought he was sentencing megumi there as some sort of punishment for his delinquency at school. unfortunately, you had met gojo, and the idea of him teaching at a religious school and dragging megumi with him only drove you to further hysterics.

the humor you found in all of it almost made up for the lies he was feeding you. a part of him longed for you to have some cursed energy to see all that he did, so you could understand the life he lives. maybe if you did, you would go to jujutsu tech with him, and he could share more of his life with you.

but megumi knew you were much better off without it, and without him. here, in your home environment, you were glowing. you were living a good and safe life, and he would keep it that way.

so, he fed you more white lies. kept it all vague and lighthearted so you could sleep easy. the school staff was capable, his studies were improving, and his classmates were… tolerable, at best. or so he claimed. the lighthearted jokes at their expense were always followed by a compliment on their character, you knew he was fond of them.

before he knew it, the two of you were strolling around the campus together with your shoulders glued to each other like you were back in routine. everything about being with you again was timeless. you still exaggerated with your hands and paused at the ends of your sentences to enunciate with your facial expressions, and always stayed on his left side so he didn’t have to face down the beating sun when he was looking at you. and he was always looking at you.

every once in a while, your hand brushed up against his and his movements would stutter. he would wait for some sort of reaction, though he wasn’t sure why. confirmation, that it was okay? or to see how much he could get away with. you acted as if it was nothing, and he wondered if you’d stay like that if he closed the distance and finally grasped your hand with his.

megumi had your school blazer draped over his other arm. he wasn’t much of a talker, even with you. but it seemed once you were able to get his shoulders to relax and his guard slipped a bit more, he rambled on about the more trivial things in his life. his friends– “i wouldn’t call them that” – and their endless enthusiasm. it’s like they were born yesterday, and every day in tokyo they lived like a fish out of water. they dragged him into a lot of things, but also held him back. megumi rolled his eyes when you said it was probably a good thing, since you weren’t around to do that anymore. you also weren’t very good at it.

megumi couldn’t look at you when you smiled like that, like an all-knowing entity that can see through the cracks in his image. like you knew him better than he knew himself, because in some ways you did. he looked at the ground, his shoes, and the trees, anything that couldn’t perceive the blush that ran up his neck.

“fushiguro?!”

he didn’t realize the lax in his composure until he tensed up again at the screech of his name not too far behind him. his smile dropped and he was brought back to the reality of his situation, being on a mission, scrounging for any murmurs about this curse he was meant to be hunting while dragging around two idiots with him.

nobara and yuji were pale from shock, stiff as boards at the sight of their fushiguro cozy with some stranger. nitta was next to them, jaw agape as she stared and slithered her phone out of her pocket.

megumi’s eye twitched.

“fushiguro, is this why you sent us off to the teacher's lounge? to flirt?! with a girl?!” yuji cried, pointing an accusatory finger as he fell to his knees. the pavement cracked beneath him as he slammed his fist into the concrete in despair.

“fushiguro, don’t tell me you’ve gone soft for some pretty girl? we’re here for business!” nobara claimed, crossing her arms.

“they’re your friends you were talking about, ‘gumi?” you hummed, looking at him. you batted your eyelashes with an amused expression.

god, no. he couldn’t spit out the words when he was barely holding on to his composure at the nickname. these people, in the matching uniforms? never met ‘em.

a gust of wind weaved itself through your hair and yuji was at your feet, his incredible speed surprising you enough that you sidestepped right into megumi’s chest. his breath hitched, somewhere between a gasp at the sudden contact and a sigh of disappointment towards yuji’s behavior. nobara was quick behind him, her anger had dissolved into a teasing nature.

humiliation swelled in his chest and lumped in the back of his throat, in the back of his mind he was routing all the ways he could get back at yuji later for the way he was acting.

“you told her about us?!” yuji said, his excitement warming the air around him.

“‘course he did,” nobara smirked. “we are your best friends, aren’t we, ‘gumi?”

megumi sighed. he wouldn’t live that down. “y/n, this is itadori and kugisaki, they’re the other first years at jujutsu tech. this is y/n, we went to middle school together.”

you smiled and offered a finger wave.

“middle school, huh? and you’re still here?” nobara’s eyes sparkled. you wouldn’t admit out loud that the intensity in her grin made your stomach turn. she placed a hand on her chest dramatically, “you get in too much trouble? got held back? i understand the life–“

“you must have the funniest stories about fushiguro!” the pink-haired boy interrupted with his laughter. “did he ever–“

“i need to walk y/n back to her class before she’s late,” megumi cut him off sharply. “head back to the car and i’ll meet you there, after i get back we should get going anyway.”

without a second thought, he grabbed your arm gently and tugged you with him to turn around. you were able to call out a quick, it was nice to meet you! before you were pulled around the corner.

his steps were quicker than yours so his hand made its way to the small of your back as he ushered you to meet his pace and put the distance between you and the gawking seagulls behind him.

your heart stuttered at the contact but you didn’t stop him, and instead leaned closer to his side. that seemed to jolt some sense into him, his fingers tensing and relaxing again on the soft fabric of your uniform and ultimately deciding to stay put. that didn’t make him any less hyper-aware of it, though. he flickered gaze from you to the sidewalk, back to you, and the sidewalk again.

“i’m sorry about them. they’re idiots sometimes,” he mumbled. “most of the time, actually.”

the path to the highschool felt oddly familiar. the trees waved gently in the wind and beckoned him back to his memories of walking you home from school, the warmth of the sunshine on his skin much the same as the warmth that sprouted in his stomach when he was around you.

he always stood straighter when he was beside you, squeezing your hand tightly when crossing the street and tucked you under his arm when passing by anyone he deemed suspicious. which, to a young megumi who saw the world in black and white, was much of the population. in those times where his adrenaline was pumping, he never thought twice about protecting you. even against what you couldn’t see, like curses, strolling through the streets unchecked.

“don’t apologize, ‘gumi. they seem like fun.” you chuckled, rubbing your knuckles gently. you couldn’t blame them for their reactions, nor could you blame your friend for not ever telling them about you. he was always a bit reserved. “i think they’re just excited to learn something about you.”

you had classes with him, and there were often times he would come in late with bloody knuckles and his hair tousled. most days he would tell you why, how they were smoking on school grounds or picking on someone in the cafeteria. other days he wouldn’t, he refused to even give you an idea of the things they said or did, and though it drove you crazy for a few hours you would eventually drop it.

and he got to keep it to himself, the way other boys would talk about you. despite not knowing you, they made their assumptions and boasted about untrue speculations. rumors and comments were short-lived when he was around, and he wondered if it stayed that way after he left.

megumi carried the secret of the jujutsu world on his shoulders, all the unruly death he’d witnessed, his sister’s curse. despite the way he’d grown in the jujutsu world and how desensitized he’d become to some things, they still haunted him. he’d would’ve liked to keep something good a secret too, just for a little while longer.

“yeah, well, i think i’d rather keep you to myself.”

“don’t tell me you’re embarrassed of me.” your teasing tone was in one ear and out the other for megumi. his tongue swelled in his throat as he tripped over his own words. you laughed, and he seemed to relax.

his hand had slipped from your back and rested between you. you found the confidence to grasp the sleeve of his uniform and keep a hold of it comfortably, watching his expression melt into a smile he couldn’t hide behind bitten cheeks.

you weren’t one to ever think you could change megumi fushiguro, though there were many times you were the one repeating in his ear to just let it go so you could go eat lunch together. (on the flip side, there were also times you were chanting his name off the sidelines watching it all unfold on your lunch period like an MMA fight). you never sought to make him a softer, more well-rounded student, nor did you ask him to ever open himself up to you.

but he did, and despite the time passed be still preened his vulnerability to you like an open wound seeking care.

“i missed you, y/n,” megumi said suddenly.

“those jujutsu tech kids can’t replace me, huh?”

he smiled, shaking his head. “it’s not even close.”

the roof of the highschool peaked over the trees ahead.

“i missed you too, ‘gumi.” a question laid on the tip of your tongue, and you quickly swallowed it before it could tumble out. “do you think… that you’ll come by again? when it's not for some school project?”

“i’m sure i could find a reason to.”

you looked up to him, meeting his amorous gaze. it was your turn to blush, scrunching up to hide the bashful smile that threatened to take over. “you have my number, you know. it hasn’t changed.”

megumi nodded. “yeah, things have been… busy, for a while now. it’s hard to get away.”

the two of you closed in on the school’s entrance, still tiptoeing the line of hand-holding. megumi faced you fully now, silent, and blocking the sun’s rays as he stared down at you with his eyes full of adoration. he looked at you like he did on graduation day– a heavy cloud of fear hanging above him, pouring down the terrifying thought he would never see you again.

“call me and tell me all about it, yeah?”

he smirked. “i will.”

he always clung to darker clothes and aesthetics, but you thought he looked best in the sunlight. his dark hair was coated with a navy luster, similar to that of his eyes. you could see his reddening cheeks better, when there wasn’t any shade to hide them.

“thanks for walking me back,” you said, your gaze flickering around his face, soaking in his appearance while still in front of you. he had already changed so much since the last time you saw him.

“it’s not a problem, i’m happy to spend time with you.” megumi paused, reaching for the door handle with a pit in his stomach growing. “i hope i didn’t make you late.”

you smiled. “i think i’ll be okay.”

a beat of silence passed, and your face twisted into one of concentration as you stared him down. a small sigh left your lips, one of surrender as you settled on your decision. he registered the shift in your demeanor and he narrowed his eyebrows as he observed.

you grabbed the lapel of his uniform suddenly and tugged him downward to connect his lips with yours. the initial impact softened when he registered his surroundings and relaxed, molding against your grasp and sliding his hands over the curve of your waist. relief washed over you and you ran your fingers over the nape of his neck. he paused briefly, to catch your reaction as you regained your breathing, and then nudged his nose against your cheek before kissing you again.

megumi’s breathing was quick, excitement drumming through his body as he focused on you, and only you. he never had the luxury of anticipating this, expecting such affection from you was reckless and selfish despite all the times he’d thought of it. here you were, before him, unknowingly giving in to his delicate fantasies.

you pulled away, breathless as you met his eyes. his smile was gentle, expression refrained while his admiration poured into his steel grip on you, keeping you close.

“call me, okay?” you let out a winded laugh, brushing your thumb against his flushed cheek.

megumi nodded, swallowing the desperation that clawed his throat. you stepped away, and he ached for your warmth on his skin again. he was still reeling from the interaction, helplessly watching with an emptiness in his hands as you slipped out of his grasp and opened the door for yourself.

you disappeared, and he was left alone with the resounding click of the door.

bonus

“y/n! oh, they grow up so fast.” gojo cradled nitta’s phone in his hand with a wobbly lip, wiping a theatrical tear from his cheek. a fuming fushiguro was pictured with all his focus aimed towards his friends, with you awkwardly smiling at his side, completely ignorant to nitta’s rapid clicking. gojo swiped through the photos quickly, watching megumi’s mouth snap open and closed over and over. he sighed longingly, “the one who got away.”

nobara leaned forward on her crossed legs, tensely gripping the loungeroom couch. “i knew they had history, fushiguro was totally defensive over her.”

beside her, yuji was perched on the armrest with his eyes blown wide– bearing resemblance to a gargoyle. “yeah, he got all clammy and weird. i’ve never seen him like that before.”

“well,” gojo set the phone down on the coffee table, for all to see. “megumi can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s got his moments.”

“so, what’s she really like? was she shoving people in lockers like fushiguro? i bet they were some sort of sick power couple, she seems like she’s got a dark side.”

their teacher smirked, leaning back in the armchair as he listened to their conspiracies. ‘sick power couple’ was a quite generous interpretation of your and megumi’s younger days– gojo recalled the awkward preteens you were, bumping into each other and melting into a flushed state during study nights (strictly stated by megumi not to be referred to as dates). gojo never, ever helped such situations, often making them worse with a shove or teasing comment at the boy’s expense.

“ha! i doubt it, she was way too nice to us.”

you were moreso a bystander to megumi’s antics, sometimes a cheerleader. but it was still like you to snap, or slap, him back to his senses whenever he got all ‘high and mighty’ like some ‘reactionary douchebag’ –stated in your own eloquence. gojo remembered the times you’d unlock the front door and throw it open with one hand, dragging a frustrated megumi whose physical bruises mirrored the ones on his ego. you’d throw him to the nearest chair and welcome yourself to the apartment’s amenities while he wallowed in silence, both of you waiting for the air to settle and ignoring the presence of his guardian and his amused expression.

“man, fushiguro must be pretty bummed right now.”

the loungeroom door swung open abruptly, the door handle cementing itself in the drywall. megumi presented himself in his rage, his cursed energy fiercely blazing around him and crackling at his fingertips. his expression was dark, eyes immediately drawn to the center coffee table with nitta’s own slideshow presentation of yet another humiliating moment for him.

nobara and yuji were struck with fear, paling in solidarity with the wallpaper. nitta quivered behind them, crouching.

gojo let out a low whistle. “someone’s going through it. don’t tell me she left you on read.”

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carengene

1 year ago

Jason's time in the league except he knew Damian.

Like yeah I know Damian is a test tube baby and got aged a bit faster or something but imagine this.

Talia, no matter how mischaracterised, develops a soft spot for Jason while he is catatonic. She is also a mother and has been/is undeniably in love with Bruce. No matter how much it sounds like she only loved Bruce to produce the perfect heir, they were in love, even if it was just once. She, mother of Bruce's child, raising him to be strong, the way she know how, ready to let him be free and meet his father, shall he desire. That same mother finds Jason, the dead son, of his grave, wandering, his mind never fully there, and decides to heal his injuries and help him heal.

Maybe that wasn't the plan, at first, maybe she never expect to be mother of a child not biologically related to her. Maybe by the way she was raised or by the standards that surrounded her. But now? As she watches her child, because Jason is her son, murder is professors because he finds them unworthy of breathing. Maybe then she realises that motherhood was something she wished for, maybe living peacefully. She wouldn't, though. Maybe in another time, but now? She had her father to manipulate while watching her children thrive.

Maybe they could've been in a life without blood, but the doubts it. The kids are attracted to danger, most likely, they love saving. Albeit their methods bloody, she knows it won't last long, with her beloved so close.

Maybe she lets Jason go back to Gotham, followed by a couple Shadows under her and her sons command only. She calls every week, checks in, asks what his plans are, how the bat is doing. Maybe she lets him yell at her, his frustrations wild, that she knows can only be pleased with blood, that she knows makes his opinion of his family twisted. Never of Talia, no, maybe he never called her mother, but she is sure he would never let her see him this way otherwise. Maybe it's because she saw him at his worst, once, but maybe, maybe she can dwell on maybes, for once, and hope that Jason does consider her his mother. Even if she could never replace his late mother, at least letting her help him with his plans is the most she can ask for.

With that, she understands Gotham, instead of being through reports, news, old tales from her beloved, it's from her son. Soon, it would be from both of them.

For now, until Jason creates his big reveal, finishes his plans, deals with whatever issues he wants to deal with, she will let him have Gotham to himself. She will keep her father away. She will continue doting on Damian, as she will tell him stories of her beloved, The Bat, and let his eyes shine. As she could not preserve her sons innocence, but she could try to ignite their hopes.