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megumi-stan · 3 years

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| Black Skies | 黒い空 |

Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

TW: Major Character death, graphic depiction of Injuries and gore!

Black. That was all there was.

Black dots swarm your vision, and black strands of hair slipping through your fingers invaded your brain. Megumi’s black jacket sprawled on the floor, and his black sheets clenched by your hands were only a flash in your head, but it didn’t fail to bring you comfort underneath the black sky.

His parting words still teased your ears.

“Don’t die, if you do, i’ll never forgive you...”

You could only beg for his forgiveness as you laid broken on the cold floor, the stench of blood and decay entering your nose and burning your throat, You knew it was a bad idea to follow the curse alone; you were well aware that it was far more powerful than what you were capable of handling, but still you were stubborn and refused to appear weak in front of your lover.

You remembered how Megumi hesitated before running in the direction of Itadori, who was in trouble, and you knew a fist was likely closing around his heart the moment his back turned to you and your footsteps faded away. Megumi trusted you with all his heart, and he had no doubts you would return to him. He probably reminded himself how capable you were a dozen times in his head only to set his resolve.

You wanted to laugh, a bitter sound that got stuck in your tongue before breaking free. You weren’t the great thing he thought you were, after all. The wheeze of air hurt, pushing blood out of the gash across your neck, and your limbs went numb. You could no longer feel anything besides the dizziness in your head.

If only you could see his face for the last time, but your eyes had shut off completely as your heavy lids fell. Your heart ached one last time for all the things you would never witness. Gojo’s sensei revolution, shopping with Nobara through Tokyo and having dancing parties with Itadori. But all those faded into nothing when you thought of Megumi growing up and having a life without you in it.

He would never take you on late night dates in the woods, or slip into your room at night to watch a bad horror film while cuddled up in your bed. You would never take another picture of him while he was distracted, and his hands would never fit in yours anymore...

They were right.... Sorcerers rarely died without regrets, but instead of regretting enrolling in Jujutsu High, your only regret was not being able to say goodbye to the boy with bright green eyes and gentle touch that held you tenderly at night chasing the darkness away.

Cursing one last time your bad luck, you drifted off into nothingness, hoping that, wherever you were headed next, you could at least watch Fushiguro Megumi from afar, silently cheering him on as he continued to live his life.

Megumi knew something wasn’t right at the exact moment a sharp pain stabbed his heart. Shaking it off was not an option, since the unease crept across his skin like oily tendrils, leaving his heart stammering and his fingers shaking.

His shikigami, Nue was battling the special level curse, while Megumi’s body served as a shield to guard Yuji’s fallen form. He reminded himself to breath in and out slowly, to prevent premature tiring but his breathing stopped when he noticed how the faint battling noises in the distance stopped.

Thinking that you had succeeded, He took a deep breath and waited, but when he never spotted you figure running to help him out, panic made him his prisoner.

“Fuck!” The curse slipped past his lips, born out of a desperation out of character for him. Where the hell was Gojo sensei when he needed it?

Strong emotions can boost one’s level of cursed energy, but he knew better than to waste it, so he focused on summoning Orochi to finish things off quickly. His focus was broken the moment he started worrying about you, so the fight prolonged for what seemed like an eternity. Minutes went by, where he could only hear the screeches of both spirits battling until with one last clean bite from the great serpent, the curse was exorcised.

Without thinking, he just flung Itadori’s knocked out body over his shoulder and ran, his feet moving so fast he could barely feel the ground beneath them. He ran through the deserted street and as he got closer to where you had ran off to, the metallic smell lingering in the air like a macabre blanket made his stomach drop.

Megumi’s heart was beating hard in his chest, drowning out the sound of his breaths as he sped up, his whole body ached but it was nothing compared to the ache he felt in his soul the moment he spotted the trail of blood and the curse lurking above you. He dropped Itadori to the floor without a second thought and summoned his divine dog, who jumped at the curse’s back with a feral glint into his eyes. He knew his dog liked you, specially since you always seemed to pet him the right way. The vicious canine was protective of you, and that made Megumi him realise how much of his life revolved around you.

Training, dates, laughs, missions… You were always there.

Right at that moment, he couldn’t care about his own safety or Itadori’s, as he left his side and approached you. The cries of pain and the snarls falling on def ears.

There you were, your uniform torn and burned in some places, your skin bruised and stained with red, your whole neck invisible under the stream of crimson that disappeared under your collar.

And your chest wasn’t moving.

Fushiguro fell to his knees as his hands found your face, cradling it tenderly. His fingers shook and his eyes stung. You were not breathing, and he couldn’t ether.

“(y/n)?” He croaked, barely above a hush whispered, voice shaking, strangled by the knot in his larynx. “C’mon baby... Open your eyes.” he pleaded, shaking you slightly.

Your cold skin froze his soul, and he placed you on his lap. The small light of hope died when he pushed his ear to your chest, willing your comforting heart beat to meet him like it did all the nights he slept using you as a pillow, but the relief never came.

Silence was the only answer he got.

A torn scream burned his throat, but he could barely listen to it with the sound of his soul being shattered. Ugly tears rolled down and turned your skin wet as he held you close, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and pretending that everything was fine, and this was just like when he hid from the jump scares when watching horror films with you.

He cried out again, because no matter how hard he tried, the icy fingers of death held him down, burying his hopes and dreams to the ground, and stunning him. As if he had received a fatal would. Megumi wondered if he would survive too, since it felt like his heart had stopped completely in his chest.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him to lower you slightly so he could see who it was.

Itadori stood there, his hands stained with blood and the curse behind them gone. His divine dog sat by his side, ears flat on his head and sorrow written all over his eyes.

Megumi couldn’t utter a word. He had promised himself he would save those he chose, those who were good and deserved to be saved. He knew there was no one more deserving of salvation than you.

Megumi had failed.

He turned to look down at you once again and his dog came forward. Whining and nudging your limp hand with his snout, urging you to pet him like you always would after he helped on missions, but you would never have the chance to do so again.

A loud howl filled the solemn silence in that moment, where the two boys mourned the death of a dear friend and lover. Their souls tainted black just like the sky above their heads.

A/N: First time writing for Megumi! ever since i casted my eyes upon him i’ve been doomed... guys with daddy issues are my type apparently, judging by my massive crush on Todoroki Shouto...

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

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unbefuckinglieveable · 5 years

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Belated holi-fic ( a musical au) - @apologieslogan

((@apologieslogan , you are a great strong person and god damn I came at it with excitement and I think it paid off. So without further ado. A musical au

Warnings:. Angst; major character death

Pairings: Logince

There are no answers in this world unless they are sought after. And no answers are there if the right questions aren't asked. That was what Logan was trying to do, find the answers. The ones that he needs. There was not much time left, even as his studies continued, he noticed the way his handkerchief was pulled from his lips blood. Moments air would seem to escape him. If he didn't work fast. Logan Verity was well aware his time was coming.

The dark-haired man spent hours under an oil lamp as his eyes throbbed beneath his spectacles. Now and then the pain would force him to step back. Another moment wasted, by Lo's count he had wasted fifteen hours of his precious time asleep this week. He didn't intend on wasting any more. He wanted to live.

Too... young… to die.

Mr. Verity understood that, however, he also knew that if he failed he would have garnered no viable evidence, and he will have spent his last few months hunkered beneath a dimming oil lamp. He would die alone and as no one of consequence. That was something he couldn't allow to happen.

It couldn't have been...all for naught

Very slowly the tired man would go out and try to find colleagues to work with… drink with. It didn't hurt when the liquor hit him. When out on the leash it was seldom one walked away feeling much of anything but lust. Except, Logan seldom felt lust or passion that didn't come from his life’s work. Nor had he met a man, woman, or child who shared a passion for their craft.

It was all he could do some nights. The pain in breathing, the choking seemingly endless. It was all he could do to make the pain dissipate in the slightest. One such night, Logan thought, was when he met Roman Nightingale, a man dedicated to theater. He taught Logan something per shot. And Logan felt the bonds he had craved. Someone well versed and dedicated in their craft.

It was too late...to feel this way.

Logan didn't abide by one of the rules though, it had escaped him during his lessons with Mr. Dar- Mr. Nightingale. Words, when not conveyed through action and not spoken, can not be assumed. Logan did not want to admit that his curtain call was coming. Ro was too happy and too dear. His Nightingale didn't need the hindrance.

It was coming, Logan knew the truth. His strength passing each day. Roman no fool noticed but was able to attribute it to Logan showing ‘humanity’. A ‘humanity’ that Logan despised the weakness showing forth was not of the educated man's volition. The vulnerability allowed was one night.

one night for love.

He showed the man a night of stars, pointing out the endless span in the horizon broken only by vineyard leaves and vines. Roman had asked what the matter was. It was the truth. Rotting love from within. Logan asked to write Roman a play. Roman agreed so disoriented questions died on his lips. Things that needed to be asked were overwhelmed.

It had been a first, Roman overwhelmed that someone would want to create something for him. His gratitude had overshadowed the questions. They spent the night together

The passion, the pain, and the despair had a release. Ever since the night in the vineyard. It was what Logan needed. Even though Roman poured over the pages in agony, he was unable to piece the puzzle together. He'd ask but no answers came from the lazy man who slept all day. And drank all night.

The liquor wasn't helping much anymore, though the people would say he had the tolerance of a Scotsman, it didn't spare him the pleasant lack of alertness. Who knew one's own mind would begin to become one's own cage. Logan knew, now.

His pages went through the stages of grief, denial had come by the before the manuscript began.

The Anger had come in through the second chapter muddled with denial. The anger had focused into passion pushing forward with no regard to self. It was the first thing that had begun to draw Roman from love. The anger was a fire so intense it struck like a forest fire.

It was Bargaining where Roman began to believe Lo had begun to lose his mind talk of the infuriating irony of the universe and whatnot. Talk of the cruelties of nature and the inevitable betrayal from God. Words crazy enough Roman dove into the performance to hide. Logan alone when he ’d blackout choking and wake equally in solitude. Blacking out at the typewriter awaking with the hole in his heart groaning wider. Where was the actor who he needed him?

Depression was only a couple of days, loss of his dear companion. Only seeing Ro come pick up the last act. Hardly any words said. It was enough.

Enough to push him to acceptance resignation. Logan Verity knew he’d be… gone soon. So he sat down one night and with a glass of water by his side he typed out a goodbye.

Roman was delighted the tragedy had gone off with success the crowds wept, but the standing ovation was unrivaled. This was the show that would jumpstart his career. Though he couldn't help but notice where the creator was supposed to be, there was only air. It succeeded in driving the actor out of the show house. Into the streets when the affair at the theater had drawn to a close.

The pub where they first met? Nothing. The pub owner hadn't seen him since the day before. The concern in his chest blossomed into a panic. Logan always came to drink, it helped him ‘put his mind at ease’.

When Roman entered the abandoned home? He wanted to scream, Logan hadn't been found, yet the state of the home was unsettling. Nothing was out of place, a bowl of bread crumbs out on his counter the Cages for the Blue Jay and the Cardinal open both birds looked up with timid disinterest. And then back to the bowl of food.

The bookshelves were lined with books and pages of research, his walls had notes pinned up, reminder, pieces of research on what Roman assumed to be for the play to make the protagonist’s illness more believable. That was until he saw the desk littered with pages and crumpled tissues with varying amounts of aged and aging blood. “ No…” Roman whispered as the truth hit him.

The weeks of Logan being angry, the drinking, Roman all but called him a lunatic. How could Roman be so wrong? He looked at the desk rifling through the pages, anything at all that would help him. He had to find his scientist before it was too late. One thing passed the truth along, reminding Roman of how thick he could be. He'd thought about it all wrong. If he were to die all alone, where would he choose to go?

'm with the stars, my love.

Roman left the house in a sprint desperate to find Logan. The vineyard, the endless spans of stars that Mr. Verity loved endlessly. A night that Roman should have spoken up during. The hints were all out there to see. Roman was blinded. By love, excitement.

The path was dark only visible by the light of the stars roman hadn't realized were in his partner’s eyes. Eyes dark like the Navy blue of the night sky. Hair, soft like warm silk and the color of oak wood.

What have I done?

Roman found him, curled against the trunk of a tree. The actor knelt before him taking off the coat from his costume and wrapping it around him. “ Logan? Please wake up…”

“ Too...young...to die.” He wheezed quietly, Ro wrapped his arms around Logan, tears rolling down his cheeks carding his fingers through the weak man's hair.

“ I am so sorry Logan. I'm so sorry.” Sobs bubble to the surface as Logan raised a hand to cup his lover's face.

“ Show...good? It couldn't have been...all for naught.”

“ No… No, my starry knight, it was a success people will know your name for millennia to come..” Hearts-shattering slowly as Logan tried to console his partner, a satisfied smile on his face. “ Why didn't you tell me?”

“ It was too late..to feel this way, my dramatic love… One night to love. I chose you. I love… you. I am bad at...at expression. But you had a passion ...for something... non-living. Fascinating. Beautiful. So-so a...amaz...amazing-”. Logan began to cough his body folding forward into Roman who wept at the situation holding Logan close.

“ I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry..”

“ It's...okay… ‘m with the stars now love… and they...are..are so beautiful.” The scientist said before his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell limp into Roman’s arms.

“ Logan? Logan!” Roman shouted before sobbing as he carded his fingers through Logan's hair. And leaning him back against the tree. A piece of paper crinkling beneath the actor’s knees, he gingerly picked up the paper and sat beside the body to read.

“Roman,

I may not have been an expressive man, may not have been a happy man by the time you met me. However, in my time writing this I will assure you. It is completely out of character. I was sick for a long while. Before I met you I spent weeks studying human anatomy in the hopes I'd cure myself. It was a pointless venture. And as I sit here writing this goodbye I realize, I should have been enjoying my life.

I should have gone out, I should have met you sooner. Because through all twenty years, I have never felt such strong and compelling emotions. I wish I could have experienced it sooner. You truly made the end of my life something special. I wish I could be scattered across the stars. But it isn't an option.

If you would bury me here and plant a tree so that you can picnic in my protective shade. Put up a swing and sit in my arms. Watch the stars with me.

I love you Roman and if I never say it. Know that I felt it, something deep and pure.

You know I got you a bird, a bird as red as your passion he is at home with my bird… do with them as you please.

If someone else has found this letter, then I suppose I burn as a heretic. So be it.

I love you, Roman.

-Logan Verity”

“ Oh my god… what have I done.” Roman muttered. As tears streaked his face.

#logan angst #roman angst #moulin rouge au #tw:majorcharacterdeath #sad #thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanderssides #pandorafics

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unbefuckinglieveable · 6 years

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Remember Me Pt.11

// Quick content warning: swearing and Character death.

Richard hates Cole Anderson, the boy is the physical representation of everything that was wrong with this situation. Connor had abandoned them. He had abandoned them two months ago, It had been seven months since the accident, and people didn’t think Hank was coming back.

He was barely able to be civil, but he was, more than Hank. And now it was only Richard and Hank left. The other man was growing ever more suspicious of his lack of eating, drinking, and sleeping. The realization of what Connor had done left him stunned, and watching Hank turn around and throw the person he believed to be his son away had left more than a bitter taste in his mouth.

However that bitter taste was not as bad as it was when Markus met Cole for the first time. The leader had lost his metaphorical mind. Richard had messaged Markus and reminded him that this was Connor’s fault, not Cole’s. Markus blamed himself, but he blamed Richard more. Richard was in the house, Richard could have tried harder, intervened, something….. anything?

He had no clue where Cole was staying, he had no clue what the kid did. Richard felt as though life could remain this way, after all, Cole would fade into obscurity and Hank might not remember for a long time. That would be a happy ending, a sense of equilibrium. The partner had not felt that since his deviation. It was nice.

So nice.

Hank rolled over in bed and sighed reaching to pet Sumo’s head. Connor is usually in here with cof...fee by ...now. Oh. Oh no. No. NO . Hank stood from his bed, angrily seizing his gun and walking into the hallway. The old Lieutenant walked towards the kitchen, where the lights were on. He saw Richard sitting at the table, his head hung low.

The only noise Richard had been privy to was the bubbling of the coffee pot, Hank's breathing, which had grown louder. Then came the click of a clocking glock. “You have ten seconds to tell me your real name and why you lied and made Connor feel worse than he already did.” The officer demanded with a growl.

“My Designated name is Richard, I am Cyberlife model Rk900, I made a mistake, and I am so glad you are back, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Where is the real Connor?” Hank demanded again, ignoring Richard's remark about him being back.

“He made a mistake like the rest of us, Connor went to Kamski, I don't know when… he had Elijah design an artificial intelligence around Cole so that if you never remembered he wouldn't have to pretend.”

The old Lieutenant was shaking in anger, “ And You assholes just let him fucking do it? “ He yelled pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like I said, we all made mistakes.”

“You said that like I made a mistake.”

“Did I state you as an exemption, Lieutenant? You, probably made the biggest mistake. We were trying to make the best of a bad situation. Yourself? You got drunk, and played your game with four bullets. Connor tried to reason with you, you didn't listen and said it was sad only two things would miss you,” Richard stated though his tone was low, threatening Hank to continue talking, “You pulled the trigger and were lucky. Connor wrestled the gun from you then you threatened him and took off, Connor chose to wait here only to find out you were in the hospital. When he came to see you, you called him Cole and he still respected you enough to pretend as long as he did. Shall I continue?”

Hank looked away, swearing in frustration as he looked at Richard. Guilt flooded him when the dreaded word thing fell fro Mc the new model’s lips.“Can we get him back? “

“You have your son Lieutenant, is that not satisfactory?”

“I get it, I fucked up, but that is not my son. I want my son back I want to apologize and make up for once again being a shitty person.” Hank snapped Richard could only sigh if Hank wanted to apologize then it is okay, right? Moral dilemmas were not Richard's forte. They were the little bits of humanity that he had been designed without. It made him able to take care of murderers without getting caught up in the details of it all. Murder is murder and murdering a murderer is no different. It is still a crime.

“Very well, he is likely to still be at Kamski’s home. Maybe Maybe Elijah can undo what he did. I'll summon a cab, since you are still not permitted to drive. “

“Great, I'll get dressed. “ Hank said with a roll of his eyes before walking to get dressed. He hadn’t realized he was running.

The ride to Elijah's home was silent, with deep set anticipation. For Hank the silence was needed to think. Connor's actions seemed to make sense. The deviant was able to feel. As far as Hank was concerned. Connor understood him more than anyone had in a long time.

Hank Anderson was losing another son.

And once again.

It was all his fault.

The lieutenant felt his heart sink lower as the sun started to rise. Casting a pale painful light on the city of Detroit. Only time would tell what would be coming. Since he had his moment of waking up he can't afford to lose Connor.

Richard didn't mind what was happening. His life would not change. The machine would complete his objectives as he always did, even if his predecessor was… gone. Dick would still work at the police department. In fact he'd be more efficient now that he didn't have to pretend to be human. He gave humanity a shot once. That chance left when Connor abandoned them. And even if Connor came back, Richard doesn't give second chances. And he doesn't forgive idiots.

Connor could have been open from the gate. The detective model could have had his emotion settings adjusted. He could have talked to Markus. He could have talked to detective Reed who was more than able to aid him. There are so many methods of coping. For him to not take any of those paths and to try and dive in like a stubborn child irritated Richard, and it garnered no sympathy from the machine.

Hank stared out the window trying to decide what to say. He wouldn't say he was giving up drinking. He'd been an alcoholic too long. However Connor could hold his guns on drinking nights. And Hank could go from drinking seven days a week to six. And they could move from there.

The old lieutenant didn't like change, but for his son, he will work forward. Just as Connor does. It is only fair.

They climbed from the cab slowly looking at each other with a sigh. This was it. Hank gets his Connor back.

He had to get his son back.

Chloe entered the dining area with a polite smile. “ Elijah, Mr. Anderson and RK900 have pulled onto the property.” Elijah nodded calmly and wiped his mouth to be certain everything is clean. Before he stood.

“Go wait for them. I'll grab coffee and food for the lieutenant. And we'll go from there. “ He said leaving the dining hall to prepare for his guest.

‘He, Remembered Me.’ The old AI muttered softly in the mind palace. He looked at his replacement in surprise. And for the first time since he was placed on base AI programming…. He felt. And he was so happy. He felt holographic tears of joy christen his cheeks at the sudden rush. It was a moment of pure weakness, and it was the biggest mistake the Artificial intelligence could have allowed himself to make.

Cole took advantage of the older Ai’s moment and slipped into the settings and started to delete the other’s programming, he took the time to revoke the other’s admin permissions from under him, he wasn’t going to die this time. “It changes nothing, Connor.”

'what do you mean?'Connor approached Cole sadly until he felt his presence in the mind palace weaken. He gasped lightly. 'Cole we can build a new body for you and transfer you over.'

“I am alive, Connor.” The boy said stubbornly looking at Connor in anger as he turned to leave the foolish old AI only to disappear in silence. Connor raced forward and grabbed his hands.

'Cole-please I… I already lost everything once, please don’t make me leave when I can make this right. Please.' Connor was shaking as he felt his emotions return only for him to be dying. The boy pulled his hands from Connor’s and walked away.

“ You gave me this life Connor you made me take on your burden’s,your pain,you made everyone hate me because they saw you, you made me understand why I was needed Now dad has come for me. He doesn’t want you. You're just a thing. Remember? A tool just like the terminal on his desk. I know how you felt and how you thought and just because dad is here doesn't mean he remembers you. He could just be here for me to make amends.” The boy said pointedly watching Connor’s simulated respiration pick up as tears rolled hard and fast, he sank to the ground.

‘Cole, please, I'll leave they can move me, I...don't want to die.’ Connor pleaded the heavy breaths. It was truly the closest he'd felt to being human. Shame it wasn't convincing enough.

“I want to be loved for once. And it won't happen if your around. I deserved to be loved Connor, I earned it.” Cole hesitated at the hologram on the floor staring up at him tears dripping on the floor of the mind palace, “And you won't take it from me.”

The young AI went to resurface, turning away he glanced back. “I'll remember you. Goodbye Thing.” With those words he left the android dying away left in an undignified way on the floor.

‘Please Dad…Remember Me.’ He said before the last of his code was dispersed.

Cole opened his eyes to see Hank sitting across from him, glaring, his mouth closing like he’d just spoken. Richard was by his side . Loyal little guard dog. “Dad?”

Elijah looked at Cole with a smile, it was certainly misguided.

“See Lieutenant, Just as I said. I programmed Connor to take back control when you a dressed him, he is his same deviant goofy dog loving dork you know and love.” The creator grinned pridefully looking at Hank, that was until Cole spoke.

“Actually, Connor hesitated, and I knew you'd want me so I deleted his consciousness before he killed me. See I can be resourceful, just like you.”

Silence reigned over the table like a dictator as various looks of shock, fear, and blind fury set in around the table. Hank pulled his gun, his voice shook as he growled out, “No, you give me back my Goddamn son or I swear.”

“But I am you son, I'm your Cole. The son you need, one to drink with and eat dinner with and watch the game and play with Sumo Connor is gon-” The young man said before the defining mini explosion of a gun popping off sounded. Cole went slack in his seat.

“You're no fuckin son of mine. And I can't have Connor, I don't want you either. Here.” Hank said dropping the gun in front of Elijah. It was his revolver not his service weapon. “I failed your fucking test.” Hank said standing leaving Elijah staring at the weapon in, for the first time in years, fear.

Hank left for work, he deserved to live like this.

It was all his fault.

// Hey guys, remember those numbers? I asked some of my readers to answer a simple question. Pick a number between1- 10. Here are the results, and by now you probably know what the question means. ♡♡♡ maybe Ill post an alt ending for those who want it. Just hmu. ♡♡♡

Even:8

Odd:7

Taglist: @softgreysweatersbutwithfanfic @sentient-roomba-cop-800 @pyrsrcool @myusernameispie @my-crow-nest @averykantz @pika-blur @vampirzyca13 @kakkoii-sou @jeswii @the-hybrid-kid @therealhmmlingle @b-moz @quietnocturne @scarletxwonder @shoot-me-with-a-crayon @thestrawberryfarmer @minekitkate @fanfictionrecommendations-com

#finale #remember me pt 11 #gone connor #dead cole #done hank #bitter nines #angst #detroit become human #detroit: bh #detroit connor #tw:majorcharacterdeath

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