MEGUMI x Female Reader (Fluff)

The day began like any other: a mission with Megumi, a cursed spirit terrorizing an abandoned school, and the overconfidence of thinking it'd be over in less than an hour.

"You sure you're good?" Megumi asked, glancing at you as you tied your hair up and cracked your knuckles. "This one's registered as semi-grade 1. It won't be a cakewalk."

You gave him your signature grin. "Aw, worried about me already? That's cute."

Megumi scoffed, rolling his eyes, but the tips of his ears flushed slightly. "Just don't do anything reckless. You always—"

"Reckless? Me?" you gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. "I'm the definition of strategic brilliance."

Megumi didn't bother arguing. He knew better. Instead, he walked ahead, his shadow already beginning to stretch unnaturally with the faint summoning of his shikigami. You followed, humming to yourself, oblivious to the weight of what was coming.

The building groaned as you stepped in. Cursed energy clung to the walls like a thick fog, making your skin crawl. The hallways were dark, the flickering lights above casting eerie shadows across peeling lockers and broken tiles.

"It's in the gym," Megumi said, motioning with a tilt of his head.

You nodded, sensing the cursed spirit's ominous presence pulsing like a heartbeat. As the two of you approached the double doors, a screeching roar burst through them—then silence.

"I'll distract it," you whispered. "You go for the weak spot."

"Wait—Y/N—"

But you were already through the doors.

The creature towered above, grotesque and twisted with multiple limbs and jagged teeth. You summoned your cursed energy, launching into a series of precise attacks, each one landing but barely doing enough to slow it down.

Megumi leapt in seconds later, sending Divine Dogs to gnash at the cursed spirit's legs. But something was off. This curse didn't move like a semi-grade 1. It was faster. Smarter.

You felt it before you saw it—a sudden spike in energy, and then a piercing shriek as the spirit released a powerful burst. You moved to dodge—too slow. The impact slammed into your chest, launching you across the gym floor. You hit the wall hard. Hard enough to hear the crack of your own ribs.

"Y/N!"

Your vision blurred, the ringing in your ears drowning out Megumi's shout. Blood dripped from your temple, your limbs heavy.

You saw Megumi's expression twist into something you'd never seen before—raw, animalistic fury.

His hands moved without hesitation. "Max Elephant!"

The massive shikigami crashed down with a tidal wave of water, sweeping the cursed spirit off its feet. Megumi was a blur of motion—no hesitation, no restraint. The shadows around him surged like living creatures, his wolves snarling louder than ever.

He fought like a demon possessed. Each strike had the force of vengeance. Each command was sharp, precise, merciless.

It wasn't a battle. It was an execution.

And then silence.

Megumi was at your side in seconds. His hands shook as he pressed them to your shoulders, trying to keep you conscious. "Stay with me. Hey—don't close your eyes. Look at me."

You tried to smile, but coughed instead. "Did... did I win?"

He cursed under his breath. "Idiot. You could've died."

"But I didn't," you whispered.

His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to yell, to scold, but instead, his hand gently cupped your cheek. "Don't do that again. I swear, Y/N, don't ever do that again."

Your fingers brushed his. Even as your consciousness began to slip, you managed a soft, teasing murmur:

"Aw, worried about me already? That's cute."

He glared—but his thumb still brushed away the blood from your cheek.

And for once, he didn't deny it.

The hospital room was too quiet for Megumi's liking.

Machines beeped softly in a rhythmic pattern, monitoring your vitals. You'd been unconscious for almost a day now. The doctors said you'd be fine—no critical injuries, just a mild concussion, two fractured ribs, and internal bruising. You'd live.

But that hadn't stopped Megumi from sitting at your bedside all night.

Gojo had tried dragging him out. Even Nobara had shown up to force-feed him something. But Megumi didn't move. Couldn't.

His eyes stayed fixed on your face, watching every small breath you took. He kept replaying the moment you slammed into that wall. The sound. The blood. The stillness.

It had broken something in him.

"I should've stopped you," he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse. "Should've gone first. Should've known that thing was stronger. I should've—"

"Should stop blaming yourself," a weak voice interrupted.

His head snapped up.

You blinked blearily at him, offering a tired but smug smile. "You look like hell."

He exhaled shakily, leaning back as if relief had knocked the wind out of him. "You're awake."

You reached for the water beside you, only for Megumi to intercept, holding the cup and straw to your lips like it was sacred. You sipped, watching the way his hands trembled slightly.

"Fushiguro," you murmured, gently. "I'm okay."

"You almost weren't."

Your smile faded.

He set the cup down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. "You always do this. Rush in. Take hits meant for others. You don't think, you just move."

You shrugged. "And you always overthink. I guess we balance each other out."

He looked at you sharply. "This isn't funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny."

Silence. His jaw tightened. You could see the guilt gnawing at him like acid.

"You went feral," you said softly. "Like, legit scary. I've never seen you lose it like that."

He didn't answer. Just stared at the ground.

You reached out, fingers brushing his. "Megumi."

He finally looked at you.

You smiled. "Thanks for saving me."

"…Don't thank me."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to need saving like that ever again."

Your heart clenched. His voice was too raw. Too broken.

"Hey," you whispered. "Look at me."

He did.

"I'm not leaving. You didn't lose me."

He swallowed hard, eyes flickering with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. "I thought I had."

You gave his hand a squeeze. "You didn't."

He let out a shaky breath, then leaned in, forehead resting lightly against yours. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I know," you murmured. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N."

Your breath hitched.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "I don't care if we argue. If you tease me. If you drive me insane. Just—don't make me watch that again."

You blinked. Your heart stuttered.

"…You really like me, huh?" you whispered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I've been trying to not like you for months."

That made you laugh, weak but real. "Well, you suck at it."

He smiled faintly. "Yeah. I really do."

Your fingers tightened around his. "Good. Because I don't want you to stop."

The next morning, you woke to sunlight spilling through the window and the faint rustle of someone moving beside you.

Megumi stood near the window, his jacket hanging off his shoulders, dark eyes staring out at the quiet world. His silhouette was calm—but tense.

"Megumi?"

He turned instantly. "You should be sleeping."

"I did. I'm awake now. Come here."

He hesitated, then crossed the room in three slow steps. You patted the edge of your bed.

He sat. Close. Closer than usual.

Your hand reached for his. "You really thought you lost me?"

His throat bobbed. He nodded.

You whispered, "You're allowed to want me safe. That doesn't make you weak."

He finally looked at you—and for once, there was no mask.

No sarcasm. No quiet restraint.

Just feeling.

He reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye. "I can't stop thinking about it. The moment I saw you hit the wall. I couldn't breathe."

Your fingers curled into his shirt. "I'm right here. You didn't lose me."

He leaned in. Just a breath away.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he murmured.

"I'll try not to," you whispered.

His lips ghosted over yours. Barely a touch. Like he wasn't sure he was allowed.

But then you closed the distance.

And he kissed you.

Not with the clumsiness of firsts or the hesitation of fear. But with the intensity of someone who almost lost everything—and refused to make the same mistake twice.

Your fingers tangled in his hair. His hand held the back of your neck. It was slow, warm, a kiss that said everything he hadn't been able to before.

When you pulled apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered.

And this time, it was your turn to go still.

But only for a moment.

Then you smiled.

"Good," you whispered. "Because I'm in love with you too."