#i would ask someone to write this but the person who needs to write it the most is myself wahh

[stargatesg-1obsessed]

As someone who has only started writing this year, I feel this. I feel the pressure of feeling like I have to write just as good as some of my really good writer mutals or like the books i read, but in reality, they've been doing it for years, and I've just started. I don't need to be as good as them because I'm just going to end up critising myself for being a beginner writer and not having all the talent straight away, and that's just stupid.

All the feedback I've gotten on my fanfics has been wonderful. They're all really lovely people, and they're supportive even if the writing sucks because that's just what you do. It someone's writing is bad, don't point it out. If it bothers you that much, don't read it! I personally would much rather have one less hit on a fic than have someone be hateful in the comments. There is just no need for it. If you want to give them some tips, go for it. But don't be rude about it, especially when that person isn't a writer but is still judging them.

The whole point of fanfic is to have your own creative freedom, with the characters you love. And if your writing isn't as good as someone else's, or it doesn't sound as good as a book you've read, it doesn't matter!! All writers have off days, even the really talented ones with really popular books/fics. No one should critise you for your writing. They don't have the right. The only time it is semi acceptable is when you ask someone to beta a fic for you. And even then, it's not for critising. It's for helping out with any mistakes, typos, ooc dialogue, etc etc. You're not there to judge them, you're there to help them.

So please, if you see a fic with writing, that could be better, either support them, or just don't say anything. Because I know that writers need criticism sometimes, but what we really need is support. And if there is something you want to point out, say something simple like; "Loved this fic! Really loved how the characters interacted!! :D Although I think I saw a little typo towards the end when it says "the entire planet," I think you meant to put "the entire plane,". But it's not that big a deal, and we all make mistakes :))".

That's based on a comment I got from someone on AO3 who helped me out majorly with a typo. It changed the entire sentence and didn't make any sense otherwise. And they really saved me there.

But if you're going to say something rude like; "at the end, when you put "the entire plane," instead of what I think you meant to put which is "the entire planet," it really messed up the fic and it makes no sense." Then just don't point it out because I'm sure someone else with kinder words will.

Fanfic writers don't need to be as good as professional authors!!! Just have fun and create what you want, and what makes you happy. Don't be scared to post something because it's practise. We all do it, and we'll all improve if we have practising. Don't let someone else's harsh words stop you for doing what brings you joy.

At some point "fanfic can be as good as professional writing" became "fanfic should be as good as professional writing" and that's caused major damage to fandom spaces.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[demonic0angel]

"If you give me a prompt I'll write it 😈" - Aight Bet.

Danny didn't expect his sister to have a pen pal, she said it's someone from nanda Parbat?? Danny doesn't know where the Fuck that is but everytime he sees the letter that was sent(those are some fancy lookin envelopes) he could feel rancid Ectoplasm lingering around them.

Jazz has already noticed but took no caution about it, Jazz said that she had a son, her name was Talia (No Mentioned Last name) and she was a very odd woman.

Danny listened to Jazz ramble on about her new "friend", Her son Damian which her pen pal had talked about and even sent a drawing of(how fancy). Danny WOULD investigate and dig deep into it since he's the ghost king and all but jazz explicitly told him not to.

....

Meanwhile, Jazz plans to meet her 'Penpal Friend' soon. She's very excited but still cautious, The way her friend talked about her situations was... Concerning to say the least and jazz shall use her psychiatrical expertise to help her!

[Danny is very concerned, Dan is Very Concerned 2.0, Dani says "Yuri."]

-A.E. 👻

(I’m gonna change the context of your ask a little so Jazz already knows Talia’s identity before she meets her again in person. Also, this got really long lmaooo)

Talia gave her a small nod when she saw her. She lifted her head to meet Jazz’s gaze as Jazz gave her a dazzling smile.

“Hello, Talia,” Jazz said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “You look lovely.”

Talia avoided her gaze and just hummed. She cleared her throat lightly and then said, gesturing to the hallway, “This way.”

Jazz followed her at a set pace and said, “It’s good seeing you again. How are you? Did you enjoy the candy I shipped over?”

Talia nodded. “Yes. I gave them to my son and he enjoyed them. Thank you very much.”

Jazz beamed. She did not ask the burning question in her heart. Was Talia alright? Her letters to her had become less and less frequent in the past year before the most recent message to her had been a barely disguised begging for Jazz to come see her.

Jazz didn’t mind; she loved seeing Talia, who was startlingly dangerous and hauntingly beautiful, but it still worried her. Talia was a strong woman, but she wasn’t invincible, even with that pool of rancid ectoplasmic bath water. (She shuddered just thinking about it. She needed to ask Danny to wipe them out before Talia could hurt herself again using them.)

“Where are we going?” Jazz asked, glancing around. They were inside of a nice, expensive looking condo in Spain.

Talia paused in front of a door. She hesitated before she said slowly, “Jazz… I have valued your friendship greatly. In the last few years, you have become someone very dear to me. However, as you are already aware, I am in a dangerous position in my home. I do not wish to endanger you, especially since you are a civilian. If you do not wish to take this journey with me, then… you should turn around now.”

Jazz chuckled. How cute that Talia thought that Jazz was a helpless civilian. However, it had been Jazz who had accidentally enforced that idea within Talia’s mind. It was a little too late to correct that notion though, so Jazz just shook her head softly and tried to look reassuring for Talia.

“It’s too late for that.” She reached out to hold Talia’s hand, scarred and weathered from fighting, squeezing slightly. “I will accompany you and help you however I can.”

Talia nodded again, looking away. “Thank you… beloved.”

Jazz tilted her head curiously at the title, but did not say a word. Talia then opened the door and Jazz’s eyebrows rose as she stared at a young boy with similar features to the woman beside her. He scowled at her, but it just looked cute with his round cheeks.

Jazz turned to Talia. She already had an inkling, but she wanted to confirm. “This is…?”

“My son,” Talia said, “His name is Damian. And I earnestly beg you to take him in for me.”

“What! But mother!” Damian stood up and shouted, while Jazz’s eyebrows shot up again.

Talia gave him a light glare. She turned back to Jazz and it was cute how she had to look up at her. “My father is increasing pressure on us, and he is training Damian even harder. If this continues, Damian’s life could be in danger. I would’ve left him with his father, but Bruce’s lifestyle is… not what I want for Damian. Please, could you take him in, beloved?”

Damian shut his mouth with a click and both Al Ghuls stared at Jazz with wide eyes, one beseeching and one shocked.

Jazz smiled and reached out to hold Talia’s hand again. It was really nice to hold, and warm too. “Of course. You don’t have to worry, Talia. Like I’ve said, you can depend on me.”

Talia beamed. “Thank you, beloved.” She flipped Jazz’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. Jazz blushed. It felt strangely… intimate? But who was Jazz to judge? Maybe it was a League of Assassins custom! Or something! She didn’t get to meet Talia often, usually just exchanging weekly letters, so how would she know?

Talia turned back to Damian, still holding Jazz’s hand and said, “She will be your new caretaker. She is very important to me and you can trust her with your life. Call her… mom.”

Jazz side eyed Talia, but did not dispute it. Maybe it was some sort of spy plan? Like a code name? It would make more sense when a woman and a young boy were together for them to be mother and son.

Jazz also turned to Damian and let go of Talia’s hand to walk over to him slowly, keeping an open posture and friendly smile on her face.

Damian eyed Jazz as she approached and then knelt down respectfully before him. She smiled. “Hello, Damian. I’m Jazz, and I hope we can get along.”

Damian looked at his mother. They had some sort of silent conversation that Jazz did not understand, before Damian turned back to her. “Yes… it’s nice to meet you too… mom.”

Jazz smiled. “I’ll take care of you.”

Damian sniffed. “I certainly hope so.” He tried to look haughty, but he was so short compared to Jazz that it once again looked adorable and pouty.

Yep. It was official. Her siblings were going to eat him alive.

Jazz looked back at Talia, who was staring at them both with a soft expression. Strangely, the gentle look made Jazz’s stomach flutter.

Weird. Was she growing sick?

Talia blinked, noticing her gaze. “Is there something wrong, beloved?”

Jazz coughed at the nickname again. Damian eyed her like she was a walking disease and Talia just looked more and more worried. “Nope! So, uh, what’s the official plan?”

She stared at Talia, who just blinked and hummed, pursing her red, kissable lips.

Yep. Definitely sick.

(Talia: Heh! Cool, calm, and collected, with a dash of vulnerability! I’m definitely showing my best side to my beloved, Jazz! She’s so much better than that emotionally constipated Bruce!

Jazz: *completely and utterly oblivious to any advances made by another woman* Wow, Talia is so pretty today too. Surely, it is normal to want to hold hands and kiss another girl because she’s so pretty 😃 I wonder why she wants her kid to call me mom? 😃

Damian: …. Two moms? Is this my birthday?)

[requiemforthepoets]

broadway darling 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando never met each other in person despite him being best friends with your brother, but when carlos had dragged him to your opening night, he hated to admit it but he was charmed by you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n in the narrations, photo do not belong to me and all photos are taken from pinterest, inconsistencies of photos, use of y/n on the smau, not proofread, magui, profanities, mean comments, and typos

WORD COUNT: 696

FACE CLAIMS: taken from pinterest

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i missed writing for lando 😭 i made this one shot/smau to appease my broadway x f1 racer agenda in my mind, and since i’m a big fan of les miz and hamilton. though let me know if you want part 2 lol i hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it! this one’s for all the theatre girlies out there (i hope i did you justice 🥹)

It was an unspoken rule that opening nights were sacred in your family. The excitement, nerves, and anticipation of the curtain rising for the first time in Melbourne—it was all part of the magic you had fallen in love with since your broadway debut at sixteen. Tonight was no different, the backstage bustle surrounded you, but you remained calm, dressed in your costume for Fantine, the tragic heroine of Les Misérables.

The makeup team finished their final touches, ensuring every detail conveyed the pain and hope of the character. You took a deep breath, whispering a quiet prayer as the stage manager gave the fifteen-minute warning.

In the plush velvet seats of the packed theater, your family had taken their places. Carlos was flanked by your parents on one side and, to your surprise, his best friend, Lando Norris, by his side. You had heard of Lando countless times through Carlos’ stories, seen him in the occasional instagram post or race weekend interview, but never met him in person. Lando was not exactly the type you imagined sitting through a three-hour musical, but there he was, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking slightly out of place but undeniably intrigued.

“I still don’t understand why you brought me with you.” Lando murmured to Carlos as they flipped through the program.

“Because you need culture in your life,” Carlos teased, his voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Besides, it’s my sister. I’m always there to support her.”

Lando just nodded, unsure what to really expect. He had heard of you, of course, Carlos never stopped talking about his little sister’s accomplishments, but he had never seen you perform. Lando wasn’t even sure how someone who belted out ballads for a living would compare to the thrill of racing, but as the curtains rose and you stepped onto the stage, he felt something shift.

When you sang I Dreamed a Dream, the theatre fell silent, and Lando forgot to breathe. He didn’t know much about broadways and musicals, but even he could tell this was something special. There was a rawness in your voice, an honesty that made him feel like you were baring your soul to every person in the audience, him included.

“You good?” Carlos asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Lando blinked and sat up straighter. “She's…really good.”

“Told you,” Carlos smirked, “she’s a broadway darling for a reason.”

Lando did not respond, his eyes fixed on you as you poured your heart into the performance, and by the time the curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause, he was on his feet, clapping so hard his palms stung. Carlos laughed as he nudged him.

“I think you liked it more than me, mate.” Carlos chuckled.

“She’s, uh, really talented.” Lando flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Carlos raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Backstage, you were surrounded by castmates and well-wishers when Carlos arrived, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“You killed it out there!” He said, pulling you into a bear hug. “Mamá and Papá are so proud, they couldn’t even stop crying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wiping a bit of makeup from your cheek. “It felt good tonight.” You admitted, though your eyes flicked curiously to the familiar figure a few steps behind Carlos.

Carlos caught your glance and stepped aside. “Oh, right, this is Lando. You know him, my best friend.”

“Hello.” You said warmly, extending a hand.

Lando stared at you for a second too long before quickly shaking your hand. “Hey, uh, you were amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at his slightly awkward demeanor. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I never pegged you for a theatre type.”

Carlos snorted. “Oh, he’s not. He didn’t even know who Fantine was before tonight.”

“Hey, I know now.” Lando muttered as he shot Carlos a look, which made you laugh.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Lando,” you said. “Thank you for coming.”

As you turned your attention back to Carlos to discuss dinner plans, Lando just stood there, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, feeling like he had just been hit by a train.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, lesmizofficial, iamrebeccad, landonorris and 456,736 others

tagged: lesmizofficial

ynsainz do you hear the people sing? 🇫🇷❤️

opening night of les misérables in melbourne was nothing short of magical. i’m so grateful for the chance to bring fantine’s story to life again and share it with the people i love the most. a night that i’ll never forget! ❤️✨

view 78,837 comments below

carlossainz55 incredible, hermanita! Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it ❤️

ynsainz AAAAAHHH LOVE YOU 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad you.are.amazing! GIRL THOSE PIPES YOU HAVE!!

ynsainz rebeccaaa, thank you so much!! i’m glad that you were able to come 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!!! 🥰

landonorris amazing show last night! first theatre experience and definitely won’t be the last 👏🏻🙌🏻

ynsainz thank you lando! glad that les miz was your first theatre experience. well, hoping to see you again soon! 😆

lesmizofficial opening night couldn’t have been more better, it was unforgettable! you’ve brought fantine to life in a way that will resonate for years to come. the team couldn’t be prouder of you! ❤️

ynsainz thank you, les misérables! 🥺❤️

username1 PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION

username2 carlos wasn’t lying when he said he’s sister a star 🥹 i came for the sainz connection and left absolutely blown away by your TALENT!!!!

username3 an icon, a legend, a queen!!!!!!

username4 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THAT I WATCHED YOU LIVE 😭😭😭😭

username4 I NEED TO SEE YOU ON LES MIZ TOUR I CANT LET THIS PASS BY 😭😭😭

username5 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

username6 THEATRE KIDS UNITE!!!

twitter posts

f1gossip

liked by username1, username2, username3, username4 and 20,837 others

tagged: ynsainz, carlossainz55, landonorris

f1gossip is there something more than just racing between lando norris and the sainz family?

spotted: lando norris attending the opening night of les miserables in melbourne with none other than carlos sainz and his family just days before the aussie grand prix weekend.

the mclaren driver, who’s usually more focused on the track than the theatre, seemed to be all flirty and smiles as he mingled with carlos’ little sister, ynsainz—the broadway darling herself! rumors have been swirling around ever since lando was seen front and center at the opening night, and now, it’s got us wondering…is there something between the two off-track?

while lando’s always kept his private life under the wraps, this cozy night with the sainz fam is raising some eyebrows. could les miserables be just the beginning? are we seeing a new f1 power couple in the making?

drop your thoughts below! ❤️

view all 18,636 comments below

username7 okay, but if lando is really into her, can we talk about what an upgrade this is from his usual dating rumors? she’s a literal goddess. broadway, west end, and disney??? ma’am.

username8 so lando’s in attendance at les miz in melbourne? okay, that’s cool, but is it bad that i care more about her perfomance than this so-called gossip? priorities, people!

username9 not at all!! everyone here in the comsec acting like they personally know lando or y/n lmao what a bunch of losers

username10 this is a bit of stretch, don’t you guys think? maybe he’s genuinely wanted to be there for support. he’s literally best friends with carlos and close with the sainz, is it now bad to support a best friend’s family member? not every guy and girl showing support or hanging out equates to dating.

username9 SPEAK YOUR TRUTH!!!

username1 finally, someone saying relevant here for once!!!

username11 can we please stop making everything a love story? maybe she’s just being nice and lando’s just being lando

username12 oh you are so sick for tagging the people involved in your nonsense gossip!!! leave them alone!!!!

username13 now why us, broadway fans, suddenly being dragged into an f1 drama? can we just stay away from this and focus on supporting her and appreciating her talent? we don’t need this kind of drama

username14 lol lando is just tagging along with carlos like they usually do! NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE A SHIP NOR A DATING RUMOR!

username15 she’s just probably using him for clout lmfao

username16 i don’t ship it, but if carlos approves, i guess it’s fine

username2 ????? weirdo

username17 she’s been killing it on broadway since she was young. why do people always have to reduce talented women to ‘who they’re dating/involved’ with? do better people, you all are really embarrassing

username18 honestly, i don’t really care who she’s dating. just give me tickets to see her next performance 😭

username3 oh you’re so really for this

username4 why do broadway tickets have to be so expensive 😭😭😭

username5 bank heist plan meeting at my house at 8pm, pull up

username6 time to sell feet pics 😔💔

username19 she’s just gonna use lando for fame just like *coughs* magui *coughs* and besides, she wouldn’t be famous if it weren’t for carlos LMAO what a nepo baby

username7 DON’T YOU EVER COMPARED THAT VILE AND WRETCHED WOMAN TO Y/N! THE BLANTANT DISRESPECT. SHES BEEN SELLING OUT THEATRE BEFORE YOU COULD SPELL BROADWAY. CARLOS MAY BE HER BROTHER BUT HER TALENT GOT WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON THAT COUGH OF YOURS.

username8 username7 SLAYED, ATE, DEVOURED, LEFT NO CRUMBS

username20 yeah, i don’t really trust her. she’s probs only interested in lando bc of the clout that comes with being an f1 wag

username9 you DISGUST me. clout? clout??? mary, she’s the one with standing ovations every night. meanwhile, you’re hating from your couch. maybe try again.

username21 LANDO IN SPECS 😭😭😭 HES SO DREAMY 🥺🥺🥺

username10 people out here are tearing each other apart and so close in inciting civil war, while you’re out here commenting lando looks good in specs is so REAL 😭😭😭

username11 the vibe i bring to the function:

username22 the whole comsec got me laughing my ass off 😭 y’all are really bursting your nerves over this gossip that is completely baseless 😭😭😭 it’s NORMAL for him to hang out with carlos’ family and show support to carlos’ family member. like what the other commenter said, not everything has to be a dating rumor 😭😭😭

username12 EXACTLY.

username22 these people need to unclench their asshole. like omfg relax, brenda!

username23 if this is true, i don’t like it. lando needs someone who understands his world, not some theatre diva who’s only there for the spotlight

username13 ???? theatre diva ???? she’s literally been called the voice of this generation, a generational talent. she DOESNT need lando or his world, she has her own. stay bitter, though

username24 why are people so mean? she’s insanely talented and gorgeous.

username14 some people are just really fucking opinionated, like they know lando personally and that their opinions would matter. well news flash, lando wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at you nor date you all. fucking weirdos

username25 welp, this isn’t the comment section that i was expecting at all 🧍🏻‍♀️

username26 is this a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans? 😭😭😭😭

username27 vroom vroom kids vs. theatre kids

username28 this post alone had incited a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans 😭

[lichenes]

I heard you were begging for Silco asks and I will take literally anything.

Jealous Silco or Jealous Reader (bonus points if Silco doesn't notice that someone is hitting on him)

I also feel like Silco would be an amazing dance partner/classical waltz style or some intimate partner dance but would only ever do it in private.

Silco with a reader who is maternal with Jinx ❤️

Smut or fluff, whatever you feel like writing I just want to treat that man right 👍

To all the anons that requested Silco i will be getting on that soon!! Now I present to you: Silco looking for a mum for Jinx, any takers?

This gif has such a fucking GRIP on me it's driving me insane. How can pixels be SO F I N E. Anyway per your request anon this is Silco x reader x (kinda) platonic!Jinx :D!! SILCO DESERVES SO MUCH LOVEEEE. I don't care if he commited like... actual war crimes, what does AIR mean to my LUNGS. CW: brief cursing!! not much besides that, pretty tame, kinda ooc.... sorri... wc: 1261 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

The Zaunite air was filled with an unrelenting heaviness. Each day, despite Silcos best efforts, the food was getting scarcer and people were more and more scared. It wasn’t ever too much. He could handle it no doubt. Right?

Jinx was sitting on his desk and talking his ear off.

She was enjoying her time with him while Silco was quietly taking care of some documents. Spending time together with Jinx was one of the few things he enjoyed in life. Sure, his unique appearance made many women drawn to him and most people in Zaun felt nothing but respect for the man but he never developed anything meaningful, anything… tangible. Aside from Jinx he had no one. 

The stream of words being let out of Jinx at, at least, 200 words per minute stopped when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Said Silco with his usual sombre tone. He always filled the room with a certain coldness few were able to tolerate or enjoy, for that matter. Sevika entered the room. “Someone wants to talk to you.” 

He nodded, giving her permission to let them in. 

During the conversation with whoever was sitting on the other side of the desk Jinx kept returning to the thought that brushed by her mind that morning. Shouldn’t someone as undoing as a daughter have a mother by her side? Jinx was good. Good at what she did, good at killing and even better at creation. She lacked the maternal hand that was supposed to lead her through life even if she wasn’t exactly aware of what she was looking for she needed someone to guide her through her life. 

On the other hand, Silco, the effective ruler of Zaun, didn’t have anyone to share the parental burdens of life with. The swooning crowd of power-hungry women in the city weren’t a good choice for a mother. Not for someone as unpredictable as Jinx. 

Jinx was convinced you fell from heaven for her, how could he not see it? A godsend perfect for what she needed.

The Last Drop was busy. People talking, the air stuffy with Zaunite tensions, dilemmas and the smoke being extruded out of the lungs of many. He noticed you before, an everyday woman, providing her parents with whatever they needed in their old age. He didn’t do many of the job interviews himself, his lesser henchmen took care of that, but the barkeep of The Last Drop was the person he came to care for. 

“You’re hired.” He said at the end of your chat.

You were used to people chatting you up while you were behind the bar, an additional drink, boredom or true infatuation were all at play here. Never… this. “What can I get you?” You said when someone took the only free stool at the bar. When they didn’t answer you so you turned around to check them out. If they were a danger to the well being of the people inside or the bar itself you’d rather they threatened the guards than you. 

What transpired was truly bizarre. You expected to see anyone here, Sevika in a foul mood, Jinx with a gun to your head or even one of the lesser lackeys of the many people running this city. Silco? Silco was last on your list.

You froze in place almost dropping the pint you were holding. Quickly you put it on the counter in front of the person who ordered it and turned your attention to him. He looked at you with an unusual intent, normally when you’d look over to his usual spot he’d be smoking and surveying the room with his ice-cold vision, today there was… need. 

You were stuck in place not being able to even utter a word in such presence. After a moment more of scaring you into an early grave he spoke. “Come to the back, someone will take your place for tonight.” Suddenly terror turned into anxiety. “Am I being replaced?” He only stood up and went around the bar to presumably accompany you there. 

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty, this could be your execution you realised. Your mind was going a million miles a minute, combing through all your wrongdoings and if you were eligible for any pardon. 

He didn’t enjoy that scared expression on your face, he enjoyed them on most people with exception to Jinx and well… you. “Nothing to be afraid of, lady.” Said Jinx toying with her gun. That definitely didn’t mitigate your concerns. “She’s right.” Said Silco somehow appearing behind you. You jumped at his sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

Explaining what they wanted was certainly difficult. You had a lot of questions regarding your new position as a… babysitter for Jinx? You’d never say that out loud for fear of swift death. The payment was lucrative as well so you decided on accepting the offer. At the end of the talk you were more or less familiarised with what this job entailed, along with being a co-parent to Silco, you were to be on their beck and call, still you retained the position of the barkeep. 

As all people you were a bit afraid of Jinx. Looking at her she was inconspicuous, the braids giving her a child-like wonder look to her. Underneath you could feel a profound sadness sitting inside of her and you were determined to make this weird little fucked up family a happy one at least. 

You were happy to tend to wounds, look after The Last Drop when needed and listen to Jinx talk for hours. With time, Silco grew fond of you. Your mannerisms of a caring and doting parental figure, despite all which burdened you, would soon make him swoon. 

One night after closing when you were wiping down tables Silco walked in, in an unusually good mood. He leaned on one of the clean tables. “Hello. How was your day?” You asked mindlessly, not noticing him inching closer and closer to your figure. Nobody else was in the room when it all happened. 

You weren’t the best at concealing your growing affection towards Silco. The longing stares weren’t doing you any good and the fact that somehow he kept catching you was even worse. You were sure your position was soon to be terminated. 

He spun you around and caged your body between his own. His breath was warm and falling just over your chest. “Silco?” You dared. 

“You make me sick with worry sometimes.” He was… smiling? Silco was smiling? You couldn’t make anything out, your head was spinning from the proximity and his cologne. “Look at me.” He demanded grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards. “I’ve got a question.” You nodded. “Do you want to dance?” You were stunned.

The tables were moved to the sides as Silco put a few coins into the jukebox and began striding towards you with the delicacy and grace of a cat. You put your arm on his shoulder and grasped his other one. He led you around the room to the song being played and amidst the growing tension, brought his lips to yours, hesitantly. The kiss was magical, you could feel yourself rising above the roof when he finally closed the gap. You reciprocated the kiss and as the song faded away he put his hands on your cheeks trying to get as close to you as possible.

He thought he’d lost the spark and now, here you were. 

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

[perfectlyvalid49]

Sorry for grossing you out but uh, I have a complex claim to a lot of religions and cultures because of how colonialism (arguably Israel is a settler colony state so uh… hmmm) has impacted me.

As you’ve ascertained (correctly) I’m a non-Jewish American, only by technicality, because I haven’t found a rabbi that will even support the fact that I’m gay and the “three asks” thing feels like a troll move which feels… homophobic???

I need you to seriously consider how my life has been negatively influenced (hence the circumcision poll) by a bastardized JEWISH practice, and what the fuck that means for my identity as it feels like fate to some degree and a bit offensive that you would yuck my ability to find yum in Yhwh or w/e because I’m… too much of a faggoy? Idk man… just asking questions. I’d love to clarify your response in a dm since its… a lot. Not meaning to offend just sick of being put in a box because my circumcision and mother aren’t “right” enough to be in the in club because Hekate or Satan or whatever swooped in and said “NOPE” 🙃

Cheers

Trying to understand Israel through the lens of settler colonialism is a failing proposition. Consider the following:

Jews are indigenous to Israel. We have a historical record that says they’re from there in both the Greek and Roman written record. Like there is as much if not more evidence of Jews in Israel in Roman writing as there is of Julius Caesar being a real person. We also have archaeological evidence. Israel is covered with digs that find evidence of Jewish life dating back 2,000-3,000 years. We also have genetic evidence. DNA studies have shown that even super white looking Ashkenazi Jews have significant portions of DNA that are most closely related to other groups from the southern Levant.

So to call Jews settlers either denies all that evidence, insists that indigenous people can be settlers on their own land, or posits that indigenous people can somehow lose their status as indigenous if you wait long enough. The first is anti-intellectual and antisemitic, the second is ridiculous and the third is a dangerous line of thinking for all indigenous people. How long before Native Americans no longer have a claim to their land? How long before Maori no longer have a claim? It’s not really a place we want to go.

As for colonial, the definition of a colony is “a country or area under the full or partial political control of another country, typically a distant one, and occupied by settlers from that country.” So which country controls Israel? I think we’ve seen over the last year that it’s not the US given the way Bibi has repeatedly blown off Biden, so who is it? Which country is sending settlers to control the area? Again, it’s not the US. While some American Jews make Aliyah every year, the vast majority of Jews in Israel are either from Europe or the Middle East. To be a colony, you have to be a colony of some other power. What is the other power here?

So we can see that Jews are neither settlers nor colonizers. But you know who did colonize the area? Arabs. Arabs are indigenous to the Arabian peninsula, not Israel. And in the 7th century, Arabs came from the Arabian peninsula into Israel (and other places), conquered the locals and did their best to eradicate their cultures, forced conversions to the conquering religion, and settled in the new lands while being under the political control of the far away Caliphate. Sounds like settler colonialism to me. So if we must understand someone in the area as colonial (and I still don’t think it’s the best way to look at things, but if you do) then it’s the people that Palestinians are descended from.

Having said all that, just because colonialism has impacted you, it doesn’t mean you have a complex claim to Judaism. Here are ways you can have a complex claim to Judaism: 1) your father is Jewish and your mother is not, 2) you have Jewish ancestors who were forced to convert and you are now trying to reconnect with the religion that was taken from them. I don’t know your history, so it’s possible that one of those is true. But if you have no Jewish ancestry, then your claim is not complex, it’s non-existent, and if you do have Jewish ancestry but your ancestors willingly left the tribe, then you don’t really have much of a claim either. That doesn’t mean you can’t convert, but given that you seem to think you have claims on other aspects of Judaism as a non-Jew, my gut reaction is to be very doubtful toward your claim on Judaism in general.

If you can’t find a rabbi to support your conversion because you’re gay, you’re looking in the wrong places. The senior rabbi at my synagogue is gay, and we have several queer families as part of the congregation. There are literal signs on the door to the main office that say Trans and Queer Jews welcome here. This doesn’t mean that all congregations are welcoming, but lots are.

The three asks thing is a metaphor that some rabbis take literally. Converting to Judaism is a big decision. The three asks are to make sure that you’ve really thought about it and are really sure – that you’re taking it seriously and thought through all the consequences. If that feels like trolling to you, then maybe Judaism isn’t a good fit. Honestly, from my interactions with you this week, I would bet that the rabbis you’ve met with haven’t said no because you’re gay, they’ve said no because you don’t seem super interested in taking on Jewishness, you just want to take from it instead.

I don’t know what happened with your circumcision. If it went wrong and it was done by a mohel then you can feel angry toward the Jewish people I guess, but I would want to know why your parents had a bris for you if they weren’t planning on raising you Jewish. If you were just circumcised as a medical procedure, as many American babies are, then you may have trauma related to it, but you don’t need to be taking it out on the Jewish people, which is exactly what that poll was doing.

Don’t write down those four letters. Don’t try to pronounce them either. We have asked, repeatedly that people not do that, and once again, the fact that you are is super disrespectful to Jewish people. Write G-d, or God if you must, or even Hashem (I don't think goyim should, but it's better than what you did), but not those four letters. It’s not yucking your yum. You are allowed to enjoy what you want. But what you are doing here is the equivalent of coming into my house and saying that because my dinner looks delicious you can just reach onto my plate with your bare hand, scoop up some of what I’m eating, take a bite and throw the rest back. It’s disrespectful and offensive. I am not objecting to your joy, I’m objecting to your lack of respect to my culture.

Being Jewish is about more than just being circumcised and having the “right” mother. There is a culture here that you need to understand. If you are raised in it, then you get to join the club that way. If you’re not, then you can put in the work to learn it and learn to be respectful of it and join the club that way. So far, you haven’t been able to find a rabbi that thinks you’re willing to do that work, and from what I’ve seen, I’m willing to agree.

[natsuslover]

☆.｡.:* gojo bf headcanons

notes— i think… i miss my wife :’( (it’s gojover i’m writing this to cope)

ft. satoru gojo

warnings: none really js some mentions of sexual things but nondescriptive (very fluffy for the most part)

first and foremost i feel like a common mischaracterization has to be cleared up… bro is NOT a womanizer lmfaooo

in fact he’s prob a virgin like it would take a lot for him to be sexually vulnerable like that

now that that’s been said-

he’s basically ur best friend

like yes he loves u and yes ur his s/o but he can also be so so annoying at times

rich asf so he’s always spoiling u

and he doesn’t even do it on purpose

for example he’ll be shopping for himself in luxury brand stores (bros a diva) but then he sees something u would like and js buys it bc why tf not

he never expects anything in return

def the whiny brat in the relationship

kind of a red flag but he LOOOVES starting meaningless arguments for funsies

also loves complaining abt anything and everything to u

and whenever he learns a new piece of gossip you’ll be the first to know fs

100% NOT afflicted by nonchalant dreadhead disease

like he THINKS he’s being all nonchalant and shit but in reality he’s the most chalant person ever

his favorite type of date is going out to eat

whether it’s a fancy restaurant or stalls on the street he loves eating and he loves watching u enjoy ur food too

it would be ironic to say his love language is physical touch but for those he feels close to he likes when they’re physically close as well

bear hugs = his favorite form of affection

likes watching movies w u but not romance movies (he thinks they’re cheesy and unrealistic)

he’ll watch spiderman w u over and over again tho and to this day cries abt how mj doesn’t remember peter

loves playing mario kart w u

beats u every single time and brags about it

doesn’t really like TOO much pda

like he’ll hold ur hand, put his arm around u, hug u, etc. in public but that’s pretty much the extent

but in private it’s a different story…

good luck getting this man to detach his 6’3 body from u

his infinity is off almost 24/7 when it’s just the two of u

likes taking random pictures of u when ur caught off guard so he can tease u later

he’s a menace in the kitchen but when ur cooking and u need a taste tester he always volunteers

he got u a “kiss the cook” apron for ur birthday once and now just uses it as an excuse to kiss u randomly whenever u wear it

brags about u to his students like all the time and they get annoyed

“gojo sensei ur supposed to be solving the math problem on the board-”

“oh! y/n is SOO good at math! i mean just yesterday she told me-”

“GOJO SENSEI!!”

has a big ass sweet tooth that ends up rubbing off on u

his phone lock screen is definitely some cursed image of u and every time someone asks who he’s dating he just pulls out his phone and they’re like “oh… 😀”

his love for u is very obvious bc he’s always giving u “the look” when ur not looking according to other ppl

i’m ngl tho sometimes u wake up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and see this dudes bright blue glowing orbs staring right at u and it freaks u tf out

sassy bf apocalypse in a nutshell

[carbonfiction]

Could you do some angst Logan x mutant!reader comfort. Like maybe she has a similar origin to Logan where she was tested on for her powers and escaped. She ends up at the mansion and that’s how her and Logan end up together.

I’ve been wanting to write this myself for a while but haven’t had time. I need to see some truama bonding and comfort for that man with someone who really understands what it’s like. I would give anything to be that person. 😭

Hi anon!! Im so sorry this has taken me so long to get to- despite some little changes on the request, and my unsureness on writing angst, i hope you enjoy this drabble!

One step at a time

Summary: sleep can be a fickle thing, a struggle more personal than most.. But it just so happens theres another person in the mansion that understands. Written with X1 logan in mind!

Warnings?: angst, mentions of nightmares and troubled sleep, self doubt, slight depression? Comfort and fluff at the end? Idk how to tag this really.. Words: 1.5k Masterlist

People were scared of things they didn’t understand, of people that didn’t fit in to a societal box. And being a mutant? Well, you became the scariest thing of all. An unknown, a secret unshared in a room full of people.

To some, that fear, that little nagging doubt about what you are, what you could do.. fuelled somthing else entirely. Not fear, not quite, more an evil kind of curiosity. A fixation to poke and prod, bend and snap, push the limits of their fear regardless of yours in the name of science. Regardless that you too, we’re a person, different now yes, but still born of the same matter once.

Careless to the person you were, only the thing you could become. And even then, if you weren’t useful.. you were useless. Another mistake in a pile of scraped idea's, a caged creature begging for a way out.

You never wanted it, never asked to sit in a room and wonder why. Why you, why this. There was never a good enough answer, never a reason, not really. Some People were just cruel, vile and nasty, out for their own gain.. to test the limits of humanity.

But then it begged the question, what was humanity? Because it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the sleepless nights afraid to close your eyes. The sanctity of sleep a luxury. Peace a rationed thing.

Therefore It had become normal to find you in the dead of night, curled up the couch in front of the fireplace; whilst everyone else slumbered. Sometimes a book in hand, other times just your thoughts. Embered flames burning bright and warm, the crackle of wood often the only sound. It was how your relationship with Logan had bloomed.

From wordless nods walking down corridors to conversations and nights shared infront of the fire; he had become pleasant company, a friend you regarded higher- one who understood better- than most. He'd seen the same horrors behind his eyes, the years a tiresome thing.

So it's here you sit, like always, in your spot on the couch peering between pages of a book and the old grandfather clock, waiting for Logan.

It was late and he'd usually show up around now, your meetings held in a trusted pact- an agreement that if sleep held pain, this is where you'd find one another. It was up to choice then, if you'd relocate to one of your room's; if you felt the embrace of the others arms would quiet the horror, just for a while.

Because while it's true that you both may no longer be broken here in the mansion.. you'd always be bruised bone deep.

"Hey" Logan murmers softly, breaking you from your thoughts as you crane your neck toward him. Hes stood tall in the doorway, clad in sweats and a white vest, two steaming mugs in hand as he pads closer, handing you one over the back of the couch. "Figured you'd want a drink, tried to make it how you like"

You nod, taking a tentative sip with a greatful smile. Your eyes fluttering shut a moment as you swallow, relishing the warmth. Logan had indeed made it the exact way he knew you loved, and it swells your heart; the fondness you feel for the action- for him. "'S perfect, thank you.."

"Was nothin.." he shrugs, sighing into his own cup, back hitting the couch besides you. the cushions are a soft embrace for his aching body, the days seeming longer. He'd confessed one night, that the winter had never helped his affliction. That the cold air made his adamantium bones ache in a way that seemed impossible to describe. The sting of his knuckles that bit sharper with each snikt of his claws.

You shift quietly, book page marked and now placed on the coffee table. Logan watches silently as you reach for the soft blanket that lays dormant on the back. Your fingers adjusting the fabric carefully, unfolding and draping it until it rests over his knees too.

Logan smiles, a look reserved for these nights- for you- in his eyes. Its a soft, greatful, little thing; Unreminicent of his usual gruff demeanor. he lifts a large arm bringing it to rest snug behind your shoulders, tugging you closer.

Theres a comfortable silence that follows then, sat side by side. Logan simply watches as you pick the book back up, resuming your page. A warm feeling in his chest that he hasn't felt for a while as your eyes flit across the words.

He still cant understand how anyone could- would- hurt you. Would even dare harm a delicate hair on your head. It boils a possessive type of anger inside of him, that people, the very same that had hurt him, had dared. That they had ruined your trust, made you into something of their design, just like him.

And Its then that Logan cant help how his mouth moves, how it burts the words before he can even think to stop them, make them sound less jumbled. "You uh.. didn't deserve it you know?.. What they did"

The words feel foreign on his tongue but they hold meaning- one that you can feel as you cast your gaze to him.

Theres a look in your eyes he cant quite read as you hum honestly. "Neither did you. you know that right?"

And Logan knows. Hell its deep down but he knows. Yet hearing the words still bring an ache to his chest. Its beyond hard for him to even think about- admit really- even after all this time. He hadn't deserved it and neither had you. But that was certain weather perceived or not.

"Im.. Tired, logan" you trail quietly, casting your book aside as your head falls to rest on his shoulder. "Just.. So tired of being tired."

A shattering feeling stabs at Logan's chest from your admission, a sigh falling against your hair. "I know you are. Hell so am i but.." he pauses, trying to find the correct sentiment.

"We- you- can do this"

You can't help the exhaled sound that slips from you, not a laugh, not not a breath either. "Logan-" you try to protest, try to shift back inside your non vulnerable shell ready to shut down, but he has you locked next to him, fingers coming to rest on your jaw.

"No, look at me, Cmon" he murmurs, cupping and turning your cheek gently until your gaze meet his. "like you told me that once. Its one step at a time alright?"

You recall saying it, remember the context, and yet the idea of saying it to yourself feels foreign- as foreign as the words blurted from logans tongue.

He'd had a nightmare that night, had woken with a hoarse scream and his claws embedded in the plush mattress; pillows ruined with feathers everywhere, soaked in sweat. You'd come barreling in from downstairs having heard his sounds of distress, knowing the situation.

But.. You hadn't laughed, despite him being so surrounded by pillow feathers that he's sure he looked like big bird. You hadn't been cruel or judgemental, pitty in your eyes. You'd just been.. Well, you. Kind and understanding, reassuring him that it was okay, that he was safe. To take a shower and you'd sort the rest. It was from then that the fondness he felt for you had bloomed to something a little more inside of him.

You nod gently, a small, barely there smile on your lips now as you repeat. The light of the fire a soft glow in your eyes, tone a fraction more hopeful. "One step at a time"

"Yeah, thats it sweetheart" he smiles gently, a proud look in his own eye's, before his throat clears. A bashful look taking over his features as he continues, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your cheekbone. A distraction to the honesty he was going to drop "Besides.. you got this knucklehead who'd really like to keep this.. Us.. up"

You swallow, breath stuttering as your cheeks heat."You.. You would?" you sound a little surprised, yet a little hopeful, and It makes Logan smile, hearing your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yeah sweetheart" he breathes, voice a low gravel as he anxiously nods, before rushing to add. "if- if thats something you'd want?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, so excitedly it makes logan chuckle, the deep rumble joining the crackling fire. "I, uh, i mean.. ofcourse i do Logan"

Logans fingers tilt your face higher, his forehead coming to rest on yours as your fingers trace over his scruff coated jaw. "Things are better with you.." you murmer, breath puffing over his lips. "Lighter. You get it, get me.. This.."

He hardly lets you finish before his lips are pressed to yours, breaking the miniscule gap between them. His kiss so uncharacteristically gentle, like he was afraid one taste and you'd break.

"Things are better with you too.." he says quietly, forehead on yours, a smile against your mouth as his nose rubs your cheek.

And so Its that night you both agree, while wrapped up in one another, that things are better together. Better with each others shoulder to lean on. And despite the darkness that would still linger sometimes, that's all that mattered. You and him. Him and you.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

ready (klaus mikaelson)

plot: klaus always knew that one day you'd take him up on his offer.

character: female vampire reader x klaus mikaelson

inspired by something similar he says to caroline

"One day, love, you'll come to me. Might be in two years, might be two hundred but mark my words, you'll realise I was right along. I am the only one who can fulfil your wildest desires and your largest dreams. When you realise that, you'll come knocking on my door and then... well, love, then I'll give you the world."

It had been three and a half years since Klaus Mikaelson had said this to you. Three long years. He'd came into your life as a villain, you were supposed to hate him. He had killed, harmed and tortured so many of your friends (and his sister had tortured you a fair few times) and yet, he was always so delicate and gentle with you. He'd been interested in you pretty much ever since he came to Mystic Falls. You'd hated him... or at least, you tried.

He had gotten under your skin all of those years ago. He'd saved you too many times to count. He had shown you kindness and compassion, had recognised you for who you were; Klaus had seen you. You'd gotten to see a glimpse of the human side to him, not the scary big bad wolf, you'd started to see him. And when he left, with an invite extended your way, it took everything in you to say no.

Klaus hadn't stepped foot in Mystic Falls since he left and yet, every few months or so, he would write to you. Seldom did you respond but you enjoyed reading about his travels. Each time he wrote, he would send photos of the new place he was visiting usually with a list of reasons as to why you'd love it there with drawings he'd done and every single time he wrote, he attached a plane ticket to whatever destination with your name on it. You never used them, instead they gathered dust in a drawer which was full of his old letters. Klaus also always wrote exactly where he was staying at the end of the letter so you knew exactly how to get to him. Periodically, you'd go through and read some of them. They always smelled like him and had the same send off each time.

'Unequivocally yours, Klaus'

You knew that if you needed him, he would be there immediately. He had promised you as such. And the one time you called for help when Caroline got bit by a werewolf, Klaus couldn't be there in person but he sent Elijah with a few vials of his blood (extras for any future emergencies). He would do anything for you and all he wanted was the chance to show you as such.

So when this month's letter arrived with details of his new adventure complete with a plane ticket to Italy, you decided to take the chance you'd regretted not taking three and a half years prior. Your friends were oddly supportive which surprised you but Bonnie had told you she wanted you to be happy and if he's what made you happy then so be it. Damon wasn't impressed but he rarely ever was. Stefan urged you to your happy ending. Caroline approved, she'd seen the way Klaus would've done anything for you so even though she didn't like him, she knew that he was the real deal. Elena was supportive, she'd gone for the 'bad guy' in Damon so she understood the inner conflict and told you that it was okay to let yourself be happy.

So, you packed a bag and headed to Italy.

Getting there was the easy bit; the hard bit was finding the courage to knock on the front door. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood on the grounds of what you could only describe as a small castle. It was beautiful, with glorious gardens and fragrant flowers. You swallowed hard before taking a breath, this is what you came for, and you knocked three times.

After a few seconds, you could hear someone's voice approaching. Klaus.

"-I didn't ask you to go to such lengths, brother, though I have to say I do appreciate it-"

He opened the door and his expression turned from one of mild annoyance to complete shock.

"Elijah, more important matters have emerged, I'll speak to you later." He hung up, pocketing his phone quickly. He looked good. The Italian sun suited him, turning his hair a shade blonder and making his blue eyes pop, "(y/n)..." A slow, wide smile spread onto his face.

You swallowed hard, "Hi, Klaus."

He stepped aside, silently inviting you into his castle, and with a small smile you breezed past him. He closed the door and led you through to a grand room with various couches and paintings. You looked around incredulously, "This place... it's incredible."

Klaus smiled, "I told you that you'd like this one."

You looked at him and felt nerves bubble in your stomach. You'd came all this way and now... you didn't know what to do. Klaus eyed you curiously, trying to gauge how you were feeling, "Do you need something?" Oh, how he hoped that you were here for him but he had to be sure.

You shook your head, finding words too hard to find, and instead looked back to the paintings, "These are beautiful, did you do these?"

Klaus appeared at your side, making you jump slightly, "Sorry, love," he smirked. He was so close to you, so near that you could smell his cologne. Your heart raced. His hand reached out past you to touch the painting, "I painted all of these, yes. This one is my favourite."

"The colours are lovely," you nodded.

Klaus smiled, quickly vanishing and then returning to your side, "Here, look in the mirror and then look at the painting."

You frowned at him but complied regardless of your confusion. He handed you a small hand mirror which you looked into and then at the painting, "I don't get it," you said to which he urged you to look again and then you realised, "my eyes."

Klaus grinned, "There we go, love," he beamed proudly, "my favourite colours and shades to use. They crop up a lot in my paintings. Go, look," he encouraged you forwards, "take a look and you'll see how often you feature in my paintings."

For a moment, you walked around the room, soaking in the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) hints of your eye colour in every single one of his paintings. It touched you causing you to feel warm inside and you couldn't understand why. You looked at him. He stood on the other side of the room watching you with awe filled eyes, "But why?" You asked softly with tears filling your eyes, "Why me?"

In an instant, he was in front of you, chest touching yours, with his eyes locked with yours, "Oh, love," he whispered, hand reaching out to graze your cheek softly, "It's always been you."

You looked up at him, "You asked me if I needed something earlier." Klaus's brow furrowed and his hand stilled - fear; fear that you weren't here for him, fear that you needed something and then you'd disappear again. "I do need something, Klaus."

"Anything."

"I want... I need you." Your admission was quiet but he heard you loud and clear, "For years, I've regretted saying no to your offer to come with you. I want to live, Klaus. I want to be free. I want to be happy and that means letting myself be happy with... you."

"Me?" Klaus asked.

You nodded as your own hand found its way to rest on his chest, "I'm ready to fall in love with you, Klaus. I just hope I'm not too late."

He grinned, wider than you'd ever seen him smile, "You're right on time, love," he said before his lips crashed to yours. And for the first time ever, you let yourself give in.

[dissapointu]

ur writing is so amazing! u write the characters so well and in so little time! seriously you’re so amazing!! can you write how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner with tattoos and piercing but also wears very feminine clothes? lol im a fem and i have too many tattoos and a nose piercing 😊! i love ur writing and i hope u take care of urself! we all love you!

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing, and I really appreciate you sharing that with me!

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Jinx

Jinx would be absolutely in love with your style! She adores anything that stands out, and your combination of tattoos, piercings, and feminine clothes would make her eyes widen with excitement. She’d want to examine every tattoo closely, asking all sorts of questions—what it means, how it feels, if you can get matching ones. “You’re like a walking masterpiece!” she’d exclaim, running her fingers over your tattoos and being completely in awe. She loves how your look expresses your personality, and it makes her feel even more drawn to you.

She might even get a little possessive, making sure everyone knows you’re hers, but all in good fun. Expect lots of love and playfulness as she showers you with affection.

Vi

Vi would be really impressed and maybe even a little turned on. She’s a bit of a tomboy, but she loves anyone who can rock a style with confidence. Seeing you embrace both feminine clothes and tattoos would make her respect you even more. She loves the way your tattoos look, but she’s equally fond of how the softer clothes contrast with them. She’d probably chuckle and say, “You’re a total badass, and you know it, don’t you?” while running her hands over your tattoos.

She’d definitely show off how proud she is to be with someone who has such a strong, confident style. Expect her to playfully tease you, especially about how you manage to be tough and soft at the same time.

Sevika

Sevika would love your edgy style. She’s a woman who commands respect, and seeing you with tattoos, piercings, and feminine clothes just makes her even more attracted to you. She might admire the way you carry yourself with confidence, not caring what anyone else thinks. Her admiration would be evident in the way she watches you, and she may comment, “You wear your skin like armor, but you still have that softness about you.”

She respects your strength and finds the contrast of your look intriguing—especially if you’re intimidating on the outside but soft with her. She’d definitely hold you close in private, not caring who sees.

Silco

Silco would be both intrigued and impressed. He’s all about control and self-expression, so seeing you balance tattoos, piercings, and feminine clothes in a way that screams confidence would make him admire you even more. He might give you a quiet, approving look and say something like, “You know how to make an impression.” He appreciates strength, and your look tells him you don’t need validation from anyone else to feel powerful.

While he wouldn’t outwardly show it, he’d definitely feel a deep respect for you, and your style would only make him more possessive and protective of you.

Vander

Vander would be charmed and a bit protective, but mostly he’d be filled with pride. He loves the balance you strike between being strong and soft, and your tattoos and piercings only add to your unique beauty. He’d smile warmly and tell you how much he admires your confidence and how you wear your style so naturally. “You’re a beautiful combination of strength and grace,” he’d say, his voice filled with affection.

Expect a lot of sweet compliments and moments where he simply pulls you close, admiring how you carry yourself.

Ekko

Ekko would be all about it. He loves people who express themselves, and your tattoos and piercings only add to how you stand out in a crowd. He’d probably ask a million questions, like, “What’s this one about?” or “Does it hurt?” and maybe even joke about getting matching tattoos with you. He finds your mix of toughness and femininity incredibly appealing.

Expect him to show off how proud he is of you, constantly touching your tattoos or taking little photos of you. He’s into your individuality and admires the fact that you’re unapologetically yourself.

Jayce

Jayce might be a little taken aback at first, especially if he didn’t expect such a strong combination of tattoos and femininity. However, once he sees how effortlessly you carry the look, he’s absolutely smitten. “You look amazing, truly,” he’d say, a little awestruck by how beautifully you manage to blend both worlds. He’s a sucker for elegance, but he also appreciates someone who’s bold enough to be themselves, so your confidence would be a huge turn-on for him.

He might even get inspired by your boldness and ask you if you’d design a tattoo for him.

Viktor

Viktor is the type of person who appreciates uniqueness and personal expression, so seeing you with tattoos, piercings, and wearing feminine clothes would only intrigue him more. He loves the contrast of tough and soft, and the way you balance both in your appearance makes you even more captivating to him.

He’d ask about the stories behind your tattoos and piercings, genuinely fascinated by the meanings behind each one. Viktor respects individuality, and your confidence in your style would only draw him closer to you.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would absolutely love your style. She’s elegant and refined, so seeing you blend femininity with tattoos and piercings would make her respect you even more. She’s all about self-expression and would adore how you use your appearance to make a statement. Caitlyn would likely compliment you frequently, saying things like, “You’re a work of art,” or “I love how you make that look so effortless.”

She’d also be protective of you, not letting anyone make rude comments about your appearance. She’s proud to have someone so unique and beautiful by her side.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be fascinated by your style. She appreciates power and confidence, and your tattoos and piercings tell her that you know exactly who you are. She’d love how you’ve curated such an intricate, bold look and how it pairs so well with the softness of your feminine clothes. Mel would often compliment you, saying, “You’re a vision of both strength and elegance,” or something to that effect.

She’d love how your individuality shines through and would always support you in embracing your own sense of style.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would be impressed. She’s used to commanding respect, and your tattoos and piercings would immediately catch her attention. She admires strength and doesn’t shy away from showing it, so seeing you carry yourself with such confidence would only deepen her respect for you. Ambessa might quietly observe you for a while, but when she speaks, she’d make sure you know how much she admires you. “There’s power in your appearance, a statement in every detail,” she’d say.

Her attraction would be deep, knowing that you’re someone who is not afraid to express yourself—physically and emotionally.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie would be immediately impressed by your boldness. She’s used to the power dynamics in Arcane, so your ability to balance femininity with tattoos and piercings would strike a chord with her. She’d admire how you embrace your unique style and carry it with grace. “You’re the perfect mix of beauty and strength,” she’d say, thoroughly enchanted by the way you rock your look.

She’d love being seen with you, proud to be with someone who isn’t afraid to stand out.

Lest

Lest would adore your combination of tattoos, piercings, and feminine clothes. They have a soft spot for those who embrace their identity fully, and you do just that. She would be deeply fascinated by the meaning behind each tattoo and would always take time to admire your piercings. Lest would also love that you can wear feminine clothing while still owning your tough look, making her feel incredibly proud to be with you. She might even give you a compliment like, “You’ve got the kind of beauty that stays with people.”

I hope you love how I wrote each of the characters’ reactions! Thank you again for your kind words 💖

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[bunnys-kisses]

Just because you’re jealous of actual pretty girl doesn’t mean that you have to hate on them. I don’t care that you’re fat or not, but don’t go calling those ppl skinny bitches. And if you were really smart you would know that there are many writers that do poc, plus size, even x men. Don’t like don’t read but don’t be a bad person bc fat shaming is not the only problem in this argument skinny shaming is also a thing saying this as a 5’1 woman that weights 160 I know I’m not skinny but it’s so tiresome seeing comments about skinny ppl. Pls do better

hey, i'm gonna hold your hand when i say this. i'm not jealous. i know such a marvel concept. because if you have been following my blog long enough, you'd know that i'm in a committed relationship with someone. and no max verstappen's or lando norris' are gonna stop that. i'm happy with my man, i don't NEED a formula one driver. i got everything i need or want in the palm of my hand. these little drivers are just stories to me to write to others.

also i'm writing the reader as a female and i don't know if you can handle looking at a profile bio, but i'm a GUY. so i'm really not putting myself in the reader's shoes. so i'm not really jealous. i wish you skinny bitches a happy and healthy life, honestly. it's just formula social media aus are just so fucking BLAND. the same 5 women! i want diversity baby, even if it's not "reality", baby girl, this is fan fiction. anything is possible. so let the big girls HAVE something. ANYTHING. because its TIRING! i know personally, it's tiring to be someone who is bigger! so can the world of fan fiction not be catered to every need of a bigger person? is that a goddamn crime without people crying in my dms?

and i'm sorry that people ever made fun of you for your size. i'm sorry that you had to feel like people hated you for being your size. but fucking for real, not everything is about you. i'm talking about how these stories use the same five pintrest women. can bigger people not have ANYTHING without skinny bitches putting their noses into it? can they not even HAVE fiction? i ask you that much. and i hope you have a fantastic night and you can put this in your brain and let it stew while you sleep.

i'm tired, enough!

[beauvandalen]

An open letter on the rising pirating situation happening to indie authors and their books.

I am a self-published author and some of my books have now been pirated more than they have been read on their official sources—I am not talking hundreds but thousands and thousands of reads that I will never get a dime from because they were read on illegal websites who I am not affiliated with—some of these illegal pirate websites are even asking readers for donations on the page where my book is being pirated, I have also found a site paywalling a pirated copy of my book and again, this money will never go to me because this was all done without my consent or knowledge. If this pirating problem continues I will not be able to publish books anymore.

My books being illegally reuploaded is disheartening enough, but knowing that thousands of readers are fine with stealing my book is heartbreaking, and it is affecting my livelihood.

The other day I was sitting alone in my living room, thinking about my next release in regards to this situation—it is a horrible feeling to realize that I will work for months on my next book, invest money, time, late nights and weekends simply to get my work out there, knowing now that once I publish my book someone will be waiting to illegally reupload it without my consent on a website where my book will likely be stolen thousands of times again, and it’s only getting worse with each new release.

Sometimes I am able to get these pirated copies taken down, but in most cases when thousands of people have already stolen and illegally read my book before it’s taken down, the damage is already done.

Please, if you are one of the thousands who read pirated books, please... stop pirating my books if you want them to continue to exist, please read my books on their official sources, the careers of so many creators have ended before because of pirating, this is not a hypothetical scenario, this is a very real and scary possibility that I am facing as an author because thousands of readers have chosen to pirate my books.

The books we publish as authors are our livelihood, especially indie authors who are completely dependent on royalties and do not receive advances—if our books are not read on their official sources we do not get paid. Please understand what you are doing by supporting these eBook pirating sites instead of the actual authors and creators.

Pirate websites are responsible, but readers also have a responsibility to read the book on its official sources—when you illegally read a pirated copy of a book, you are stealing the book not ‘reading it for free’, and by doing so you also show these pirate websites that there is a demand for pirated books, which further worsens the problem.

Your actions as a reader and where you choose to read my books directly effect whether I will be able to publish my next book, whether I can pay my bills or not, and it is the same for many other indie authors. If you care about marginalized creators, authors writing ownvoices books who are so often the people who self-publish, please read their books on their official sources.

Please think twice before pirating.

If you want a direct example of how much these losses in royalties can affect an author, here are some average numbers: a self-published book can cost between S1500-S4000 to publish, sometimes even more. An author would need to sell approx. 500-1500 copies (depending on their royalty rate) just to make back the costs they put into publishing their book, but if the majority of readers choose to pirate that book, then the author will not make those costs back and will constantly operate at a loss, especially if readers continue to pirate each new book.

To use a more personal example with real numbers, my most recent book that was pirated on its release day had approx. 500 readers read the book on its official sources, and was pirated approx. 2000 times in just 20 days... I don’t think I need to explain why this is bad and how it has affected my livelihood, the numbers speak for themselves.

If you are not sure whether a book is from an official source or not: if you find a book that is normally not free for ‘free’ on a website the author isn’t affiliated with, you can assume it is most likely a pirated copy.

If you have doubts on whether a source is official, please feel free to message me, I am always happy to clarify: some pirate websites have been claiming to be ‘publishers/distributors’ or pretend to ‘offer the same service as a library’ recently to cover up the fact that they are actively stealing and running websites which actively ruin the livelihoods of authors through illegal means, so please be wary.

If you have read an author’s stolen book from an unofficial source, it is not too late to get yourself an official copy to support the book.

*This open letter mainly addresses the ways in which pirating hurts indie authors’ careers as it is what I am most familiar with, but it goes without saying that pirating a traditionally published author’s book can also prevent their career from flourishing: this is especially true for debut, marginalized or ownvoices authors, for whom it is already difficult to break into the industry, if their first book does not sell enough copies then they may not be signed on for a second book, pirating hurts us all. My thoughts go out to the authors who are currently facing the same problem, I hope we can get through this.

Finally, thank you sincerely to every reader who reads my books legally, it is thanks to you that I have been able to continue publishing them, your support means the world and I promise I will try my best to continue publishing these books for as long as I feasibly can. I appreciate you all.

[maddiethedogstories]

The Glasses - The Dark Side

Author's Note: I'm trying something a little bit different with this story. I'm calling it a mirror story. I am going to write a story with the same basic prompt and ideas in two different ways. One wholesome and one dark. This is the dark story. I hope you all enjoy it! Read the wholesome version here.

Greg fancied himself an intellectual. He had a PhD, was the top of his field, and respected by all of his colleagues. He spent all of his free time reading books and papers, absorbing knowledge like a sponge.

Or at least he did, until he met Daddy.

Daddy was everything Greg desired. Daddy was tall, strong, assertive, and brilliant. Greg found himself immediately under the other man's spell.

The first day Daddy brought Greg home, Daddy sat Greg on the couch and pulled the glasses off of Greg's face.

"That's much better," Daddy growled confidently as he watched Greg's panic set in.

Greg, in contrast, found all of his self-confidence leave him as his corrective lenses were removed. Without his glasses, all Greg could see was a soft blur where Daddy's face should be. Greg was almost completely blind. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he hated it.

"Um, could I please have my glasses back?" Greg asked timidly, butterflies fluttering in his stomach from the fear of being left without his glasses for any expanse of time, "I can't see anything without them."

Daddy laughed in response.

"Oh, my pet, you only get to see when Daddy says so."

Horrified, Greg dives for where he thought his glasses were, only to find himself perfectly draped over Daddy's lap.

"Oh, Greggy, you need to learn whose in charge!" Daddy said before Greg felt his pants pulled down to his knees and blows begin to rain down on his bottom.

Daddy never returned Greg's glasses that night, and, despite his horror at being effectively blind, all Greg made no attempt to get them back. With a sore bottom, Greg didn't dare cross Daddy again, especially once he realized that he was entirely reliant on the dominant man to care for him.

Over the course of the night, Greg struggled to care for himself. He sat frustrated through the whole movie, unable to tell what was going on.

He stumbled through Daddy's unfamiliar apartment, unable to tell where he was going. He made a mess of himself eating dinner, unable to see the food he attempted to shovel into his mouth or the utensil he was using to feed himself. And worst of all, Greg eventually ended up wetting himself when he couldn't find the restroom in time to relieve himself.

The whole time, Daddy looked on and teased him.

"Careful, big boy! If you're having this much trouble walking, maybe you should crawl?"

"What a messy boy! Looks like a certain someone could use a big!"

"Oh no! Did the big, smarty-pants professor go potty in his pants?"

Over the course of the night, Greg felt more embarrassed and humiliated than he had ever felt before. By removing just one of his possessions, Daddy has functionally reduced him to a small child.

When they parted that night, Daddy gave Greg his glasses back before showing Greg some pictures and videos on his phone. Greg, able to see again, looked on in horror at images of himself covered in food like a toddler, crawling on the floor after tripping, and, worst of all, wetting his pants.

"What do you think all of those smart colleagues you have would think of you if these ever hit the internet?" Daddy asked like a spider who knew it's pretty was now stuck in its web.

"Please, no…" was all Greg could say in response.

After some 'negotiation,' Greg was able to convince Daddy to keep the images private in exchange for Greg's future cooperation.

As Greg left Daddy's house that night, he felt a strange since of dread set in at the prospect of what the beautiful man had in store for him next. He couldn't imagine giving in and losing his personal autonomy like that again.

Pursuant to their deal, Greg kept seeing Daddy after that night. Their dates took on a common form. At the start of each one, Daddy would remove Greg's glasses and take control over the other man. In turn, Greg would find himself fully submitting to Daddy and all of the humiliations he had devised for him. The few times Greg balked at his treatment, a quick trip over Daddy's lap, a reminder of the photos in Daddy's possession, and a threat to set Greg free without his glasses was all that was needed to remind the submissive man of his place in their relationship.

Over time, Greg--the PhD, the intellectual, and the brain--found Daddy taking more and more autonomy from him each time they met. It was painful for Greg, a struggle and hit to his ego each time he lost a part of himself. However, with Daddy's power over him he could do nothing to stop each relinquishment of freedom.

Over time, Daddy started picking the food Greg ate. He found his mature diet replaced with bland Cheerios, dino nuggets, and other foods designed for the picky palates of toddlers. When he complained, Daddy just pointed out it was easier to eat those foods with his fingers, since he couldn't see well enough to use utensils without his glasses.

He began drinking all of his drinks, which had predominantly become milk, out of baby bottles. Daddy told Greg it was to keep him from spilling given his lack of depth perception, but Greg could help but fill like an infant everytime the rubber teat was pressed between his lips.

Having his pants and underwear removed and replaced with pull-ups and, eventually, diapers each time he entered Daddy's apartment was similarly mortifying. Daddy made sure to emphasize the importance of the extra protection each time he dressed Greg in the infantile garments, given Greg's proven inability to make it to the toilet on time (something made worse each time Daddy changed him out of his soggy padding after Greg repeatedly failed to locate the bathroom in Daddy's home).

Daddy also stopped letting Greg pick out his own clothes. Daddy pointed out that the artificially blind man couldn't see them, and Daddy was the one who had to worry about getting Greg's clothes off to change him anyway, so giving Greg the freedom to dress himself just didn't make sense.

However, no matter how much control Daddy took from Greg, at the end of every 'date,' be it for a few hours or a weekend, Daddy would hand Greg his glasses back, returning Greg to the adult world of academia and filling Greg with a sense of hope that maybe, this would be the last time Daddy would call him over to play.

That pattern continued until one day, Daddy finally made the declaration that Greg had been dreading to hear for months.

"Baby boy, I think it's time you moved in with Daddy full time."

Greg started to cry in his place on the floor where he sat on a soft blanket dressed in only a diaper and onesie while failing to stack wooden blocks due to his poor vision.

Greg immediately crawled (walking haven been forbidden after a particularly nasty trip) over to the Daddy shaped blur sitting on the couch and stared up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please no, Daddy? Please! I hate it here! I hate being your stupid little baby!"

Daddy beant down, wrapped his large hand around Greg's cheek and chin before shoving a pacifier between Greg's lips.

"Hush, pet," Daddy growled softly, his face menacingly close to Greg's, "I've made it very clear who is in charge in this relationship. It seems like you need a reminder."

Daddy then harshly pulled Greg over his lap before proceeding to deliver the worst spanking Greg had ever experienced. At the end of it, the apartment was filled with nothing but the sound of Greg's soft sobs and the crinkling of his diaper, as he thought about the ramifications of daring to question Daddy's judgment.

The next few months passed in a blur. After moving into Daddy's house, Greg found himself wearing his glasses less and less.

Deprived of his ability to see, Greg spent more time forced to participate in infantile activities like playing with blocks or trucks or futilely trying to color in a coloring book instead of reviewing the latest literature in his field like he used to.

Greg's coworkers started to notice how the once brilliant, workaholic man's performance had dropped off. Greg was pulled into his boss' office and lectured on his need to improve, but, Greg, who once prided himself on his career success and independence, found himself unable to improve his performance at work given Daddy's humiliating restrictions at home.

After six-months of living together, Greg's boss had had enough and fired his once best employee.

Sitting in Daddy's lap in nothing but a soggy diaper, Greg cried as he told his tormentor about his lose of a job.

"Daddy," he began softly, hesitant for fear of judgment at what was coming next.

"Yes, pet?" Daddy asked Greg, his ever predatory tone dripping from his every word.

"I was, was, was fired today," Greg chokes out between sobs.

Daddy smiled, although Greg couldn't see it. He rubbed Greg's back possessively.

"Oh, did someone's boss finally realize what a soggy little pants wetter he really is? I can't say I'm surprised, but I am ~very~ excited for what that means. You can finally be my diapered little pet full time!" Daddy said triumphantly.

Greg's sobs redoubled at his sudden understanding of the truth in Daddy's words. He tucked his thumb in his mouth, a soothing habit Daddy had long ago trained in him, and continued to cry in his tormentors arms.

Daddy brushed Greg's hair with his fingers, relishing this moment of absolute victory.

"Daddy is so excited for you to be my soggy little pet forever."

Daddy laughed a little as Greg continued to cry before grabbing a small object that Greg couldn't quite make out off the table.

"I guess you won't be needing these anymore. Maybe we should get them mounted for posterity?"

Greg frowned.

"What, Daddy?"

Daddy responded with a guffaw.

"Your glasses!"

Greg felt his heart drop in sudden realization. Daddy was right. As Daddy's permanent pet, he would probably never wear be allowed to wear glasses again. His world was now fated to forever be a blur.

[respectthepetty]

Hiii! Hope you have had a lovely Christmas.

I was watching His and the pre-series and the guys are red & blue. But I noticed that green was a big factor in the film.

I wondered if you had any thoughts.

I did notice at the end the ex wife seemed to be green, so I wasn’t sure if the green was linked to her.

It's been almost one year since you asked me this, and I'm finally delivering an answer because I am setting His free from Petty Prison four years after locking it up as part of me giving thanks to the BL gods for Thanksgiving.

His (Colors)

In the series, Shun is a Blue Boy and Nagisa is a Red Rascal.

Which makes perfect sense because only a Red Rascal would invite someone else to go with him to break up with his girlfriend, and only a Blue Boy would be loyal enough to actually go and witness him break up with his girlfriend.

And this was only on the second day of knowing each other! But then again, it was love at first sight for Nagisa.

Which is partly why it was never going to work with Chika. The other part is that they are too similar.

Chika is cool, but Nagisa needs someone who is not so close to his color because he needs a balance. Between the two colors, blue is better for him.

He needs a more reserved person, not someone who is loud and social.

But Shun just isn't blue.

And the more his feelings develop for Nagisa, the greener he gets.

Which is why, just like Nagisa and Chika, it was never going to work out between Shun and Ako. They are too similar.

The boys need each other because they make each other see the world differently instead of simply seeing it the same way they have always seen it.

So as Nagisa's feelings quickly rise to the surface as he becomes more enamored by Shun, we see more green.

And when he finally becomes so overwhelmed by his his emotions for Shun, who he thinks is dating Ako . . .

He kisses Chika, who is in green, which almost caused me to throw the series in Petty Prison.

But he realizes his mistake, and in his pink = 💕love💕 sweater in front of the red thread stairs of destiny, he finally admits to Chika that he loves Shun.

And we end with a promise of the boys keeping in touch and Shun returning in the summer while Nagisa wears the thinnest of blue stripes and Shun's backpack has little red stripes on it.

(But then again, they were exchanging colors and stealing glances of each other changing on the second day, so they really have been in love this entire time)

So we begin the movie with them still very much in love and still exchanging colors even in university.

UNTIL NAGISA DECIDES TO BE TRUE TO HIS COLOR AND BURN EVERYTHING DOWN BECAUSE HE IS IMPULSIVE!

And this is why His has sat in Petty Prison for four years because this wild ass Red Rascal decided to break the love of his life's heart so he could pursue his passion and be "normal," only to just randomly show up on that broken man's doorstep YEARS LATER expecting that man to take care of him AND HIS CHILD! THE AUDACITY!!!!!!

And to make it worse, the movie begins in the present with Shun in green still in love with Nagisa with a red book over his face and Ogata commenting that Shun is basically a dead man (because he hasn't been living since that devil broke his heart!)

But the best part of the movie is where the brightest green shows up. If it weren't for Sora, and her favorite book about an alligator writing letters to his friend to visit him IN THE SUMMER, these two would not have found their way back to each other.

Sora was even the one to unintentionally push them out of the closet in her tiny green sweater.

She understands the color assignment since after Nagisa and Shun were caught kissing in the kitchen, Nagisa finally wore green.

And this is important. Nagisa has always been surrounded by green even in the series. He has always been aware of his feelings for Shun since the first day he met him, but Nagisa has not worn green, so him wearing it now, getting a job, and wanting to make a home with Shun shows he is finally serious about making this work WITH Shun.

Which finally allows Shun to forgive Nagisa, confess to the entire community (at a funeral) that he and his boyfriend are not just friends but homosexuals, and to wear Nagisa's color.

So even though you thought the green came from the mom, the mom is still trying to figure out what "normal" means now that she is a single working mother with a gay ex-husband. But no matter how much she clings to her version of "normal," Sora has always known what it is.

Green is the new pink.

Because that's the color of her dads' love.

[notyourhetloki]

cardio (recom!Miles Quaritch x fem!Reader)

Reader: she/her (fem!Reader)

/NSFW Miles Quaritch x Reader/

Summary: Colonel Quaritch needs to get off some steam, and he knows exactly who could help him with that.

A/N: I'm alive and I'm horny for this alien... I know he's a terrible person and I DON'T support his actions but hey, it's fiction and I can pretend he did nothing wrong, right? Anyway, took me DAYS to write this and I hope you like it! Reblogs are always appreciated!

Tags: smut, mdni, age gap (reader's obviously an adult), Quaritch being Quaritch, but probably ooc ngl, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex (yes I know), unprotected sex, petnames (kid, sweetheart), degradation and praise, dacryphilia, daddy kink, big size difference (human x na'vi), belly bulge, casual sex.

Word Count: 5k

—

Colonel Miles Quaritch; a name you couldn't forget. His impetuous reputation followed him wherever he went, scaring away those who dared to get close. Such a legendary status granted him a sort of fear and admiration combo from his peers and even from you, a scientist who had never even properly met him.

Most of your admiration for him was purely experimental, now that he was a recombinant, after all. You wanted to get close and see for yourself all the wonders the new Na'vi body could provide him.

But you had to settle for watching him from afar. Whenever you crossed the same corridors or observed him in the gym (lifting those stupid oversized weights) you just couldn't help but stare a little, good thing he never noticed... until he did.

"And what do we have here?" You got caught ogling too hard at the blue man's biceps while he stretched. "Like what you see?" He said smugly while flexing his arm at you.

You turned all red and stepped away as quickly as you could, but you could still hear his laugh echoing through the halls. You felt humiliated, and you were sure he would know you as a joke from then on.

One day, one of your colleagues asked if you could cover them on the medbay and do some checkups on the recoms. It wasn't really your area, you worked more in the laboratory but you accepted out of curiosity.

When you entered your designated station you almost gasped in surprise. The Colonel was there, sitting on a stretcher (big enough for his body but low enough so you could reach him). He seemed bored, expression unreadable while he bounced one of his spread legs.

"Alright, let's get this over with–" Quaritch started to speak, but he stopped mid-way after seeing you. He sat up straight, ears up in alert while his tail wagged leisurely. His eyes examined you up and down, mouth slightly agape as he licked his fangs. "Well, hey there..."

The way he slowly pronounced his words sent shivers down your spine, his low gravelly voice echoed through the room and you found it difficult to keep calm. Gosh, your crush on him was bigger than you had imagined.

"Hello, Colonel. My name is (y/n) and I'll be performing your checkup today, any questions?" You tried keeping it professional, but the way he looked at you felt so predatory... you felt like a lamb in a lion's presence. Besides, he was so freaking tall, taller than you had anticipated now that you were so close to him.

"Yeah, I know your name." The memory from your previous encounter made you even more nervous, but he didn't seem to be disgusted by you. He seemed... interested. "And nope. I'm all yours, princess." He leaned back on his hands and puffed his chest, clearly too comfortable.

You couldn't help but blush at his comment, giving him a soft smile while you approached him. Carefully, you prepared some of the equipment you would use, deciding to let your shyness aside.

"Someone here is feeling well-humored enough. Have you had a good night's sleep?" You said, and he never took his eyes off you while chuckling.

"Slept like a baby." His sharp grin and intense gaze had an effect on you, one you tried to deny and repress... but the reality was, you were attracted to him, and it was more than just scientific curiosity.

"Glad to hear that." You asked him to lean down and he obeyed, you checked on his ears, his eyes, and now needed to check his mouth.

"Open up." You proceeded, but Quaritch hesitated.

"Y'know, I'm not used to receivin' orders." He looked down at you, and you couldn't quite decipher his expression. It was a mixture of smugness and severeness, you knew he wasn't completely joking.

"Well, you're under my care now. So you have to listen to every word I say, right, Colonel?" You didn't know what had gotten into you to feel comfortable enough to tease him like that, and you immediately regretted it after the sentence came out of your mouth.

But for your relief, all Quaritch did was laugh. He crossed his arms and stared right into your eyes, lids halfway closed in a relaxed way,

"Yes, ma'am..." He whispered, sending electricity down your body.

To have such an authoritarian figure be so cooperative with you was already a turn-on, but that was none other than Colonel Quaritch. The man exuded so much power and yet there he was, calling you pet names and behaving so well...

"Now, open." You repeated yourself, and he darted his tongue out mischievously, still not breaking eye contact.

Trying to not let his gaze distract you, you performed your examinations and let him close his mouth after a while. He used the pause to take a quick breath from the respirator hanging around his neck and as you got close enough to measure his blood pressure, Quaritch decided to speak into your ear.

"What a pretty blush... is that all for me or do your other patients get you like this often?" He remained still, but his tail brushed the side of your hip as you tried to maintain composure.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, you couldn't possibly believe that was happening... was the Colonel really flirting with you?

"I-I don't have many patients... I'm usually in the lab, actually. I'm just covering for a colleague today..." You tried to explain but all words came out too soft. As you looked up to meet his gaze, he seemed satisfied with his effect on you.

"Covering for a colleague, huh? Such a good girl." The last couple of words came out teasingly slow, dragged out so you could feel every syllable going straight to your sex. The motherfucker knew what he was doing to you.

"I-I think we're done here today, Colonel. You're free to go." You turned around to put some information into the datapad but immediately felt him standing up behind you, his shadow looming over you as you gathered all your equipment.

"Well, guess I'll see you around, kid." Quaritch sighed dramatically before saying, then put one of his large hands on your shoulder as he walked out. "When's our next checkup?"

You looked up, then up again... until you met his gaze. "Hm... in this initial phase, the checkups should be pretty regular, so... maybe next week?"

"Nice. See you there." He squeezed your shoulder before exiting the room.

"But–" You couldn't finish your sentence before Quaritch was out the door, and you knew you probably wouldn't have an opportunity quite like that again... so you decided to just relish the moment and allow yourself to blush even harder at the interaction you just had.

A week and a half had passed and you still couldn't get over your encounter with the Colonel, it had messed you up entirely yet served the purpose of enlightening you on your true feelings. Your little admiration had developed into a full-blown crush and the following nights after the checkup you couldn't help but touching yourself, remembering the way he looked at you and called you a 'good girl'.

You felt insane, victim of your own desires and you just couldn't control it. The thought of him never ceased to appear in your mind, yet fully aware of the taboo weighing on you... he was currently in a different species' body, that alone made you feel like a freak.

But imagine your surprise when one of the nurses came into your lab, all scared face, asking you if you could go the medbay. "Colonel Quaritch demands your presence for the checkup, ma'am..."

Fuck. Why did he want you specifically? Did Quaritch actually want to see you again? That thought never crossed your mind before, but now... it thrilled you.

You strutted your way to the medbay and confidently entered his station, and there he was in all his glory. Seated in a comfortable position, legs spread open and tail slowly wagging. He reminded you of a cat, observing his prey.

"Took your time, huh?" Quaritch's voice resonated through your body, low and severe. He didn't seem as content as the other time you saw him.

"I can assume you didn't sleep so well this time, Colonel." You said as you closed the door behind you, slowly approaching the blue alien.

"I'm all wound up lately, princess. Needin' to get off some steam." The grin he gave you was full of mischief, but he still looked stern and very stressed.

"May I suggest more exercise? Some cardio, maybe? Running on those personalized giant treadmills must feel nice." You innocently proposed, but the look in his eyes turned deep and dark.

"Oh, you could help me with some cardio, alright..." His demeanor transformed into something more playful, turning his head sideways like a puppy in order to get your full reaction.

You gasped lightly at his words, turning completely red at the implication. "You pervert!" You whispered, looking up at him.

The Colonel laughed loudly while holding both his hands up in defense. "Hey, I didn't say a thing! You're the one assuming!" He continued laughing for a bit before you finally decided to avert the situation and take one of your medical instruments to his mouth.

"Open." You said plainly, and he obeyed with a bit of hesitance. "Your throat is sore, have you been screaming a lot?" You hoped the question would throw him off the previous conversation.

"Oh, you have no idea, kid." It worked, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes as he spoke.

"I'll give you some syrup for that, you'll be good as new in no time." You offered him a smile despite feeling so small in his presence, his intimidating size always getting on your nerves.

"Does it taste like shit?" He prodded.

"Oh, c'mon. Can't handle a bit of medicine?" You teased while measuring his blood pressure.

"Watch it." His voice came with a warning, but you only smirked at him.

As you were finishing the checkup, you turned around from him to update the datapad. Suddenly, you felt something lifting the hem of your dress up from behind, so you looked down and caught the sight of his tail trying to expose you.

"Fuck, that little sundress you' wearin' looks good on you." Quaritch said, looking at your exposed thighs.

You quickly slapped his tail away from you, smoothing down the hem of your dress neatly while gasping in exasperation.

"Oh, you–!" You tried to measure your tone to a low whisper but ended up not being able to control your words. "You absolute bastard!"

His low chuckle only served to turn you on and piss you off at the same time. "Don't call me names, darlin'... I might like it."

You sighed in defeat, opening up the door as an invitation. You didn't know if you should feel harassed or horny... or both. "You're free to go now, Colonel."

He chuckled at you, rising up from his seat and towering over your frame.

"See you next time, sweetheart." Quaritch said while ruffling your hair lightly. The way the pet name rolled off his tongue made your heart beat even faster, and you knew you were going to remember it later that night.

You couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day, feeling the ghost of his presence crawl under your skin. It ignited you to even think he could want you... made you feel seen, desired.

As you got ready to go to your quarters, you remembered the throat medicine you promised to give him... and you had an idea. It wouldn't hurt to try, right? Besides, you just wanted to see him again, maybe gain another compliment so you could touch yourself later thinking about it.

So you removed your labcoat and went with just your sundress, fixing your hair on the way to his chambers.

You hesitated before knocking on his door, but your crush was so intense it filled you with crazed bravery.

Your eyes widened at the sight of a shirtless Quaritch answering the door, who looked quite unhappy until he realized it was you. "Oh, wow. What gives me the honor?" He leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms, looking down at your face.

"I-I brought the syrup I mentioned earlier... for your throat." Gosh, he was handsome. Blue, tall and muscular, you wish you could climb him like a tree. His big green eyes flickered between your face and the big recipient you were holding, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

He chuckled in response, taking the medicine from your hands. "You're the sweetest thing, ain'tcha?" He seemed to look down at your body before stepping aside and leaving a gap in the doorway. "Come in, kid... don't worry, the filtration system's out so the air is good enough for ya."

Besides your better judgment, you just couldn't simply deny an order from the Colonel. You entered his room and quickly noticed how everything was oversized, big enough for his comfort... you found that endearing.

He closed the door behind you and suddenly realized how crazy that whole situation was. You were in his quarters, alone with the legendary Miles Quaritch... and he was shirtless.

"So... h-how can I help?" You tried maintaining calm, but deep down you were so nervous you couldn't help but stutter at your words.

"Oh, I know somethin' you could help me with." His canines showed in his sharp grin and the vision made you swallow dry, nearly panicking when he trapped you against the wall with his body. He was ducked enough so his face was just slightly above yours, and he seemed even more intimidating than before.

"I don't understand..." You didn't want to seem weak, so you maintained eye contact even though it was proven to be quite difficult.

"Don't act a fool, you know damn well why you're here. I’m tense and I need a hand. I thought a pretty thing like you could help me out." Quaritch looked at you with hungry eyes, the implications of his advance combined with his closeness to you made your panties wet.

But even though you were completely horny at that point, you just didn't want to give in so easily. "I-I don’t think this is appropriate, Colonel..." Your voice came out in a mere whisper, not being able to convince him.

"Oh, cut the crap. I’ve seen the way you look at me in the corridors, the way you blush whenever you’re near me… it’s adorable." He took the opportunity to lift your chin up with his big fingers, forcing you into a more direct stare. "Or do you want me to believe you came all the way here just to give me some medicine?"

You swallowed again as you felt completely exposed, but surprisingly, you weren't ashamed. Instead, you felt even more encouraged to pursue what you had been fantasizing about for weeks now.

"Then, what do you need from me, Quaritch?" You fiddled with the hem of your dress playfully, and he looked down at your body to accompany your movements. "What would you like me to do?" You said softly.

He slowly raised his gaze to your face again, smiling widely while licking his lips.

"I would like you..." Quaritch's tail once again tried to lift your dress up, grazing the skin of your thigh and giving you goosebumps in the process. "to take your clothes off."

Your eyes widened a bit at his request, but you wanted to behave for him. As you slowly removed your dress, you noticed his eyes roaming on your skin, hungry for the sight of you.

"Ah... such a good girl you are." Quaritch's voice was low and raspy, full of desire. He only stood there, arms propped on each side of your head as he observed your every move with much interest.

The way he called you made you blush even harder, not being able to control a low satisfied hum in response.

"You like it when I praise you, huh?" Once your dress was gone, he took it from your hands and tossed it across the room. "You gotta earn it if you wanna hear more... so keep moving."

You nodded your head and decided to try something out while you undid your bra. "Yes, sir..." You said lightly, barely audible.

Letting your bra fall to the ground, you massaged your exposed breasts only to show them off, allowing a playful grin to appear on your lips.

"Oh, you dirty little thing." Soon the Colonel's hands replaced yours, his big palms completely covered your breasts as he squeezed them not so gently. "How many times did you touch yourself thinkin' about this, huh? Thinkin' 'bout me?"

Heat rose to your cheeks and traveled down your belly, the sensation of his hands on you clouded your thoughts. "Ah... m-many times, sir... so many..."

Quaritch appeared really satisfied with your answer, twitching his ears in excitement and wagging his tail. "Oh yeah? You've got toys or somethin'?"

He wanted to know the details and you were going to give it to him, even though it made you blush.

"Y-Yes, I..." You slowly lowered your panties, feeling them slide down your legs. "I got a dildo I use..."

"Really?" His condescending tone only made the ache between your legs grow. "What's the size of that thing?"

"Hm... pretty average, actually." You eyed him with false innocence before he grabbed your ass hard, almost lifting you up.

"Ha, let me tell ya, kid... I think I might be bigger than average." Quaritch inclined his head, inviting you to look down. As you did, you finally saw the bulge in his pants... the thing was huge.

"Holy shit..." You said under your breath, making him laugh. "I-I don't think it will fit, Colonel..."

His laugh was harsh and patronizing. "Nah, we'll make it work." He looked all casual about it, smug as always.

Quaritch took your arm and guided you to his enormous bed, lifting you up and laying you out in front of him.

"Fuck, look at you..." He carefully kneeled in front of the bed, massaging your thighs encouragingly. "Open them for me, sweetheart."

You opened your legs delicately, exposing your slick sex to him.

His pupils widened at the sight of your pussy, and only for a brief moment he looked at your eyes before finally devouring you, diving mouth-first into your sex. The sheer surprise of his action made you jolt a little, granting you a slap on the side of your thigh. "Ah!"

"Behave." He said against you, just a quick pause before he continued. Quaritch licked your entrance up to your clit, kissing his way around your labia and making an absolute mess.

You whined and moaned at his movements, grabbing the sheets around you and caressing the back of his head. Your reaction only encouraged him to tantalizingly insert a finger inside you, making you shake from overstimulation.

"Ah! Quaritch!" Moaning his last name made him smile against you, chuckling to himself and pausing for a quick comment.

"I have a finger up your cunt, darlin'... I think you can call me 'Miles' now..." He used the break to nip at the inside of your thighs, his sharp canines leaving marks as he bit into your supple skin.

"P-Please, Miles... don't stop..." Was all you could say before you felt another finger easing in you, his big digits spreading you open.

"Shh... so needy, ain'tcha?" He moved his fingers in and out carefully, aware of the size difference between you. "Don't worry... daddy's feelin' generous today."

Daddy. That word was your weakness, sending you deeper into a spiral of need and desire you didn't know possible. It was all you needed to send you to the edge.

Miles continued eating you out then, sucking on your clit while fucking you with his fingers. He licked and sucked and drooled all over you, meanwhile, his fingers curled up inside hitting the perfect spot.

"Ah! Please, d-daddy!" You could feel him smiling against you again as you got closer and closer to your climax. "Fuck!"

Waves of pleasure washed over you as your orgasm bloomed, sending electricity all over your body. But even after you came Miles didn't stop, forcing you to pull your hips away from him. "T-Too much..."

Quaritch wasn't exactly pleased with that, but he also wanted to move things along so he allowed it. "Okay, okay..."

He took the opportunity to take a breath from the respirator that laid next to you on the bed, closing his eyes and letting the air revigorate him.

Only then he crawled on top of you, his predatory demeanor causing you to feel even smaller than you already were in comparison to him. Miles bit his lip while lowering his pants, letting his dick spring out free from his boxers.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sheer size of it... could be compared to the size of your forearm, even. The glowy patterns of his skin extended down to his length, and the purple-rosy tip already dripped with pearlescent precum.

"It's rude to stare." He had a ridiculous smile on his face, clearly satisfied by your shocked expression.

Quaritch was slotted between your legs, stroking his dick slowly while admiring your body. "I'm gonna fuck you up, pretty girl."

Shivers went down your body at his low whisper, and you hummed in approval as he started to grind his length against your pussy. The veins and dots served as texture and stimulated your sensitive clit.

When you felt him positioning his tip at your entrance, you looked up at him and saw his concentrated face. Quaritch was intensely staring at where your bodies met, watching as every inch of him stretched you open and penetrated you.

"M-Miles..." You were about to tell him it was too much, but he soon slipped even further into you, causing you to gasp.

"Shh... attagirl." He eased in and out, inch by inch, slowly and precisely. You were pretty wet already but he occasionally would spit down on his dick to lubricate it even more.

You felt so full... his girth stretched you open so deliciously it hurt, making you teary-eyed.

"Daddy... please, ah!" When the first word came out of your mouth, you felt his grip on you tighten even further and you knew you were going to get bruised.

"You like that, huh? Let me see those tears, then." He was kneeling upright on the bed, grabbing your hips and raising them up to his crotch, completely controlling the movements.

The tears you were holding back started to cascade down your face in an instant, the relief of crying easing down the slight pain. You were overstimulated, but you didn't want to stop.

"Yeah... good girl, (y/n)." The sound of your name combined with the praise was divine, making you even more driven to continue such a crazy endeavor.

"I-I can take it, Miles... please." Was all you needed to say. He looked at your eyes for a lingering moment before thrusting his hips onto yours once, then twice... still slow but comparatively harsh.

You gasped at his every move and noticed that the pain slowly faded away, turning into delicious pleasure. Miles noticed that too, you began to moan louder and louder... so he started to thrust deeper, faster.

Soon he was fucking into you with the maximum length he could, making you mewl his name in return. He hovered over you, ears twitching in excitement and tail wagging.

"Such a tight little cunt, ah... taking my cock so well..." He groaned and hummed occasionally, the sounds vibrating in his chest.

You stayed in that position for a while, just taking him like a doll... until he stopped. You looked at him in confusion before feeling him lift you up completely, manhandling you until you were on top of his laid-down frame.

"You do the work now, princess." Quaritch said while inhaling on the respirator, chest quickly rising and falling trying to regulate his own breathing.

"Oh, you lazy bum." You whispered while aligning the tip of his cock into your entrance. You were facing him, cowgirl style as you slowly lowered your hips down onto his big dick.

"Hey!" He smacked your ass a little harder than intended, but didn't apologize. "You're lucky your cunt's been making me real jolly right now." And he smiled that stupid smile of his.

You decided to ignore him and just continue hopping on his cock, making a mess on the sheets as you rolled your hips in circles, up and down.

"Agh... fuck, look at you... such a good little whore." Quaritch's hands traveled your body without a certain destination, squeezing your tits and caressing your back before grabbing at your waist. "Go faster, I wanna see ya jiggle."

Obeying without much thinking, you started to fuck yourself into him faster. After a few thrusts, you felt yourself lowering even further onto him, taking him even deeper than before. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, moaning loudly while holding him for dear life.

"Fuck, doll... I'm gonna make you pop like that..." To your surprise, there was a sense of urgency in the Colonel's voice, was he... worried?

"Hmm, I hope I pop..." You said without thinking, too fucked out to even form coherent thoughts.

Miles laughed at that, seeing your expression and hearing your lust-filled voice... he knew you were enjoying yourself way too much. "Wow, you're such a fucking freak, huh? Such a dirty little slut."

The insults just fuelled you into a frenzy, bouncing on his dick faster and deeper and taking him almost all the way up. That's when you noticed his hand resting on your stomach, and you realized he was trying to feel the bulge his cock made in your belly.

"Can feel myself inside ya, kid... fuck." His enormous hand lingered there for a few moments before lowering his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud.

You rolled your head back in so much pleasure your vision went dark, moaning obscenely along with the squelching sounds your bodies made. Feeling your second orgasm growing inside, you hopped up and down until he was completely buried inside you. Once you took all his length, you simply started rolling your hips without taking him out. "Ahh...! F-Feels so... so good..."

"Goddammit, (y/n)... keep going." Demanded Quaritch, and you didn't even need the encouragement because you couldn't stop if you wanted to, searching your high frenetically.

For your luck, his thumb didn't stop either, rubbing your clit just right. You were so full and stretched and sensitive that all you could do was mewl for him. "Miles! Daddy... fuck, I'm gonna..."

"Y-Yeah, me too, princess..." He looked at you through half-shut eyes, not being able to hide his own pleasure. His hands squeezed your hips keeping them as close to him as possible, forcing you into him. "Ugh, gonna cum all up inside ya."

And then you felt him twitching inside your walls, spilling his seed and filling you up with his cum as he growled like an animal. You could feel his jizz dripping out of you, slowly oozing from your entrance onto his skin. That feeling alone, of being filled to the brim, made you finish in no time.

You came with a loud moan, throwing your head backward and arching your back. Your orgasm took over you, making you tingle in pure ecstasy... you had never felt anything like that before.

As you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to see Miles watching you attentively. His pupils were blown out while he heavily breathed through his respirator, and he smiled smugly at you.

"How you doing, kid?" He said after tossing his mask aside, rubbing soft circles on your bruised skin, surprisingly tender in his movements.

You slowly moved your hips up inch by inch, removing his now softening cock from inside you. It plopped onto his belly comically as you rolled to your side, climbing up the bed in order to face him. You felt incredibly empty without his girth stretching you, but you were proud of yourself for being able to take him so well.

"I feel amazing..." You confessed, not able to suppress a wide smile.

Quaritch laughed at that, inviting you to lay on his chest. You could hear his rapid heartbeats as he teased you. "Me too, me too..."

You both stayed there for a while, eyes closed while caressing each other until you remembered the air filtration system would start working at any minute. So you quickly got up, cleaned yourself and started to make your way to the door.

"Hey, where d'you think you're going, hm?" A stern voice could be heard from the bed.

"I thought you were sleeping..." You said, coming back into the room.

"Without saying goodbye? Heartless." He said pretentiously, knowing damn well he would do the same. "See you around, sweetheart."

"See you around, Miles." Without much thinking, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He didn't smile, but his ears flickered adorably and you took that as a win.

Before you could reach the door, you heard Quaritch call while standing up to reach you. "(y/n)?"

"Yes?" You turned around, looking up to meet his gaze.

"When's our next checkup?" He fumbled on his feet as he tried to pull his underwear up, making you chuckle.

"Honestly? I have no idea. As I said, checkups aren't really my thing." You tried not to stare too much at his body, the memories from the recent events already taking over your mind.

"Right..." The Colonel seemed disappointed at that, but his bright green eyes lit up the moment you started to speak.

"Don't worry, just call me whenever you need some cardio." You said as you winked, gaining a sharp grin from him.

"Yeah, that ain't a bad idea."

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