#that when you look at them and then at the reapers you get why the reapers are so fucking stupid and narrow-minded and self-important

[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

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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.”

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper Part Nine

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König

Content Warnings: Violence, bloodshed, injuries, Premeditated murder on the brain (Female Reader), swearing.

Words: 756

Note: Sorry for a short one. Wanted to get this one out. Next one will be longer I promise.

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Supernatural AU — Poem

Credit for Dividers:@cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I the problem? Did I do something to make you hate me so much? 

Why didn’t you just leave me instead of lying so many times to my face?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? 

I hope you rot in this hell you have made yourself. It’s my last gift I will give to you.

You knew how my life was before I met you. Yet you still did this to me. 

Cold. Calculated. That is all you will ever be.

If I had the power to curse you. I would have done it long ago. 

Once I leave this house, this country all over again. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from me.

Stay far, far away from me.

Otherwise, I can and most absolutely will kill you myself.

If you wish to keep your life.

Stay in your country and I will stay in mine.

I don’t want to be pushed into a corner. But you keep being adamant on doing so.

Don’t blame me when I bite you. Blame yourself for ignoring the warning signs.

You are the reason we are no longer married. Take accountability for your actions and shut the fuck up. 

König. You still don’t know if that’s his actual name or just simply a call sign. He never told you either way. 

But what does it matter? 

The man who had once been the epitome of comfort and support in your life had become a shadow of his former self. The trust that had once been as solid as steel between you had been shattered into a million pieces.

Leaving a gaping chasm of doubt and anger in its place. 

The coldness in his eyes, the way he looked at you now, it was like you were nothing but a stranger to him. 

Someone who had merely crossed his path at the wrong time.

"I will leave, and you won't see me again." you snarl, getting up to get your things.

König remains seated, his expression unreadable. "Reaper, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You chose to cheat. You made that choice. Suffer the consequences. I'm not the one who needs to explain anything. You're the one who broke our vows.” 

“My life is in my hands. I will not become who you are.” You told him. Your knuckles turning white from the way you turned your hands into fists. You were so tired of the kind of excuses coming from the mouths of men who neither cared nor wanted you around. 

You weren’t going to let König know you again. To choose death than suffer through his presence a second time. It made so much sense to you. You do enough talk. What did you learn from your mistakes? Did you even learn from them at all? 

If he can’t see it. May he drown inside his endless well of pitiful tears. 

You are not his wife, his friend, his punching bag. The call sign ‘Grim Reaper’? You earned it for a reason. Too bad he’s too blind to see it. 

What has eyes but cannot see? 

Escape.

Escape and run faster than he can hope to catch up. 

If he can’t take the hint, then…..you would have to kill him yourself.

Can’t be too hard to kill a six-foot ten adult man, right?

You can hear the shouting between him and his girlfriend. A sickening, twisted grin spreads across your face. Sweet revenge for the child you lost years ago.  Weight began to lift from your shoulders. It wasn’t over by a long shot. But now you know how to twist the knife to get what you wanted in order to leave. 

To head back home where you felt like you belonged completely. 

Home. Your home. 

The one where you don’t have to hide from broken bottles, yelling, shouting, endless need to feel like you have to explain yourself. 

Could it still be there when you go back? Will it still be there now?

[amazingspider-z]

Back at it with Bleach!

AKA the: If arrancar get to look kind of like shinigami despite starting off as hollows, Visored should get to look a little bit hollow all the time despite starting off as shinigami. As a (not) treat. post

(Bonus: some more floating heads under the cut)

[death-rebirth-senshi]

It's funny that mass effect 3 ends on destory vs control because there is a thread throughout the trilogy of destruction as a form of control/what's done when you can't control things, and throughout the trilogy there are major decisions that are control/destruction vs. relinquishing control and choosing hope.

And I can vibe with control vs destroy in some ways given that the crucible wasn't actually made by Shepard or anyone alive in the present, much like the Reapers it's this ancient imposition/larger than life technological force representative of ""organic""" fears and anxieties, and Shepard can't easily escape this dichotomy and baggage unscathed no matter what they do.

I guess I wish that's what the ending was actually about

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader (feat. tf 141)

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders (mentioned), devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), dad!simon, mom!reader, mary shelley honorable mention, sexual tension, very light smut

⬩ author's note can not get enough of this family. this one cuts off right before mom and dad get to it but don't worry because there is definitely some gross stuff to look forward to! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 0.8k

Bedtime stories are a major event in the Riley household, and it’s all because of you.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is what the children begged you to pick for this month’s readings. Unsurprising to you, Simon had Mr. Alfie find and purchase the prettiest 1831 edition of the story he could find. And find it the butler did, earning delighted cheers from the children and a raise in his already gracious salary at your direction.

Now, here you sit with your back against Raven’s bedframe, the girl is tucked into your side while Reaper rests his head on your thigh and plays with a loose thread on your floor-length nightgown. Simon opts to lean with crossed arms at Raven’s doorframe, heart squeezing at the sight of the three of you.

The children listen with full attention and Simon doesn’t have to wonder why–you’re magnetic. Eyes bright as you read the prose with all of the elegance and charm in the world. You do the voices and make faces, pulling a few smiles from Reaper and giggles from Raven. Simon himself can’t help but grin a little, mind floating back to when you’d first started the story.

It was a few Sunday dinners ago, and your audience was slightly larger than it is now after the children had convinced Johnny, Kyle, and Price to stay a little longer that evening.

You read to everyone in the sitting room of your large residence, settled in an Oxford Red Chesterfield chair. Raven and Reaper coaxed Johnny and Kyle to sit on the floor with them while Simon and John opted for the nearest sofa and a few fingers of whisky. Even Mr. Alfie had to stop and tune in for a spell.

“She’s something…” Price whispered to Simon that night just under his breath, and it was more than just the alcohol and full belly talking. Your husband could only huff with a nod, already aware with how effortlessly you allure his closest friends.

Simon can’t help but think the same, watching you here tonight.

The children whine and beg for just a few more pages, Mama when you finish this evening’s reading. Just as they do every night. 

“Tomorrow, my loves,” you promise them, and they know not to argue any further. “Now go kick Papa goodnight.”

Reaper is the first off the mattress, Simon barely catching the nine-year-old before he tackles his father at the legs. The boy pairs his hug with a soft kick to Simon’s foot.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

Simon bends, smooching a kiss into Reaper’s forehead.

“Night, my boy,” Simon replies sweetly. “Lemme say goodnight to your sister, then I’ll be over to tuck you, alright?”

Reaper gives a fast nod, hurrying from Raven’s room and a few doors down to the other bedroom of the hall. Simon watches him scamper, turning to Raven who’s flying into his arms faster than he can blink. Letting out a surprised oof as her knee hits his stomach.

“Nighnight, Papa,” she states, voice forcing a smile into your lips. Her little arms circle around his neck and she squeezes with all her might. “I love you more than spiders, mud, and all my toys.”

You and Simon share a chuckle at your daughter’s words. Rocking her, Simon embraces her back with an exploding chest.

“I love you more than spiders, mud, and all your toys.” He releases her after one last squeeze and doesn’t let the child go until her dangling feet touch the ground once more. “Now go kiss Mama.”

Raven turns but stops. Looking back at her father, a mischievous grin brightens her face. Both you and Simon already know what’s coming. You have to cover the laugh that leaves your mouth as Raven’s little foot smacks against her father a bit harder than Reaper’s did.

Simon jerks, rubbing at the spot with a fake wince while Raven runs back towards the bed with a bubbling giggle. Jumping atop the mattress, she crawls into your open arms. Simon lingers on the two of you before retreating to go take care of Reaper.

“Do you love me more than spiders and mud and toys? Hm?”

Raven nods right away at your question, kissing your nose before rolling to snuggle over her comforter. You scoot to the edge of the bed, working diligently to make sure she’s tucked and content.

Leaving her with one final peck on the cheek, you wish Raven sweet nightmares and flick her light.

Simon finds you laying across your shared bed, arms thrown back and eyes closed. He can tell you aren’t sleeping, as you aren’t able to unless he’s alongside you.

His steps are heavy as he trails into the room, breathing deeply and finally stopping the the foot of the bed.

“I’d die for you…” Simon declares in the silence. “Kill for you, too.”

The statement flicks open your eyes, which you settle upon your husband. He studies you with a heat that has your insides fuzzing into something sweet. Slipping to the edge of the bed, you balance on your knees in front of him and sigh blissfully. Hands on your cheeks, Simon tugs you into a deep snog. Tongue swirling, he guides your head with a tender touch, eyes rolling at the taste of you.

A broken groan leaves him when you pull away, his lip trapped inbetween the rows of your teeth. After smirking up at him, Simon drags your mouth back to his and leans you backward.  You fall onto the bed in a tangled pair, Simon inhaling the gasp that leaves you when your back hits the mattress.

“You’re everything,” Simon pants out, so overwhelmed by the way you look up at him with swollen lips and darkened eyes that he has to kiss you again.

“You’re the reason I breathe.”

Kiss.

“The reason I want to breathe.”

Kiss.

“And a day alone–without you, love… that would be my death...”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes✦

(I got brainrot and I'm still not confident in writing them, so I'm just gonna do this)

Y/N, dizzy off blood loss & pain meds: It is hot as hell in this funky ass hot ass room I'm in- Ghost: *steps in* Y/N: IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER?!

-- Ghost, reading: If his dick slap his thigh wh-when he walk. I shall listen when he talk. Y/N: *calmly eating and nodding* Soap & Gaz: *trying so hard not to laugh and failing* Ghost: And you posted this saying "SHEESH" with eighteen fuckin' android emojis Soap & Gaz: *WHEEZE*

-- König: I am a monster, you know. Y/N: They told you that?… König: Look at me… Y/N: Give me your hand. König: Why? Y/N: Just let me see it. *holds his hand* Hmm, a long life line, oh, and this one means you’re shy. Hmmmmm… König: What? Y/N: Well that’s funny, I don’t see any… König: Any what? Y/N: Monster lines. Not a single one.

-- Price: If you two can manage not to kill each other while I'm gone- Ghost: Oh please... Graves: We're not children. Price: ...*walks away* Ghost: ... Graves: ... Ghost: Eat shit and die. Graves: Yes, fuck you.

-- Soap: So, the plan is kind of changing, so we're just going to take you with us. Hostage!Y/n: Am I being kidnapped? Soap: No, no. Hostage!Y/N: ...Can I leave? Soap: Mm, no.

--

Gaz: Now, now Y/N I know this is a lot to take in but don’t do anything irrational. Y/N: I’m- I’m gonna fight the f-fucking moon.

—

Soap: Mama didn’t raise no bitch, let’s go. Gaz: No no, mama raised a bitch, let’s go- Y/N: Mama didn’t raise anyone, actually. My mom was absent. Ghost: Oh my god.

—

Graves: Bro you’re actually funny! Soap: …I knew that. A lot of people knew that…I- Wh-what’s getting me is the actually.

--

Random Friend: Jeez, Y/N, how do you get any work done with all these attractive men around. Y/N: See, I thought the same thing when I first joined. Then I got to know them all, and that's not a problem anymore. Soap: Ouch... Gaz: I'm still taking the compliment.

[solxamber]

Reaper's Guide to Romance - Idia Shroud x reader

When reaper Idia Shroud is assigned to collect your soul, he can't help but come up with increasingly ridiculous excuses to spare you.

Idia Shroud wasn’t having a good time. He never expected to enjoy being a grim reaper, of course. But this? This was torture. Every time he was assigned to take your soul, something in him short-circuited, and he’d find the dumbest, most illogical reason not to do it. And now, his reaper colleagues had started keeping a list—an actual, physical list—of his increasingly absurd excuses.

Today, they were gathered in their usual spot—an ethereal break room (don’t ask)—and once again, Idia was trying to justify why you were still, you know, alive.

Riddle Rosehearts, the epitome of order and rules, was glaring at Idia with a look that could melt steel. His clipboard (obviously) was ready, quill poised for judgment.

"So, Idia, why didn’t you reap this time?" Riddle asked with a sigh, clearly running low on patience.

Idia’s hair flickered with nervous blue flames. "W-Well… they were having a tea party!"

Riddle blinked slowly. "And?"

"And, you know, you can’t just interrupt a tea party. It’s like, super rude! Imagine, they’re just about to take a sip of perfectly steeped tea, and bam! I swoop in with my scythe, just ruining the whole vibe!" Idia flailed his arms, wide-eyed. "It’d be chaos!"

Riddle’s eye twitched as he wrote down: Excuse #101: Tea party interruption is ‘chaotic.’

"You… can’t be serious," Riddle muttered, but with Idia, this was business as usual.

"It’s a thing! You know, tea etiquette! I figured you’d get it!" Idia added defensively.

"That is the most ridiculous—" Riddle started, but Idia quickly mumbled something about ‘strict standards’ and slinked away before Riddle could go on another tirade about tea etiquette versus grim reaper duties.

Leona was next, leaning against a pillar, his usual half-lidded gaze fixed on Idia with a mix of amusement and disdain. "So what’s the deal this time, Shroud? Too busy playing video games or something?"

Idia groaned, rubbing his temples. "N-No! I had a valid reason this time!"

"Uh-huh. Let’s hear it." Leona’s smirk was all too ready.

"They were napping!"

Leona blinked, his smile vanishing. "Napping?"

"Yeah!" Idia nodded enthusiastically. "I mean, come on. Napping is sacred! You of all people should get it! Would you want to be woken up by some creepy reaper dude hovering over you like, ‘Oh hey, time to die, sorry about your nap?’ It’d totally ruin their REM cycle."

Leona snorted, shaking his head as he scrawled on the list. "Excuse #102: ‘Napping is sacred.’ You’re unbelievable, Shroud."

"It’s just… common decency, man!" Idia whined, knowing full well Leona was probably internally agreeing but couldn’t resist giving him a hard time.

Leona waved him off. "Next time, just bring a pillow or something."

Azul was perched behind a desk, his fingers steepled in that smug way he did when he was about to make Idia squirm. "Let me guess, you’ve come up with another… creative justification, Idia?"

Idia winced. He really didn’t want to get into this one, but here he was. "W-Well, they were in the middle of a… negotiation."

Azul’s eyes gleamed. "Negotiation?"

"Yeah, you know, like, a super important deal! I couldn’t just cut in and ruin that!" Idia blurted, waving his hands around. "You of all people should get it, Azul! I mean, contracts and deals? Imagine, they’re about to secure the best terms, and then I show up like some kind of… death interruptus. I’d be killing their vibe!"

Azul smiled, entertained. "Killing their vibe, Idia? Or their chance at a good deal?"

"Both!" Idia exclaimed, a little too loudly.

Azul chuckled as he scribbled down the next entry: Excuse #103: ‘Interrupting contract negotiations would kill the vibe.’

"Honestly, Idia, if you spent as much time reaping as you making excuses for them, you’d be the most efficient reaper of us all," Azul teased.

Idia mumbled something incoherent and slunk off, hating how right Azul was.

When Kalim found out about the list, he was nothing but sunshine and encouragement. He didn’t even seem to mind that Idia was epically failing at his job.

"So what happened this time, Idia?" Kalim asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, excited as ever.

"They looked… too happy," Idia muttered, cringing.

Kalim’s smile widened. "Aww, that’s sweet! You didn’t want to take away their happy moment, right?"

"Y-Yeah, exactly! How could I just roll in and ruin it? They were, like, glowing! Not literally, I mean, but they had that look, you know?" Idia stammered, running out of words to explain himself.

Kalim beamed. "That’s so thoughtful of you, Idia! Good vibes are important!" He turned to the list, which was rapidly filling up. Excuse #104: ‘Couldn’t ruin the happy vibes.’

Idia, still flustered, muttered, "It’s not like I wanted to let them live…"

Vil stood there, arms crossed, looking like he’d just tasted something unsatisfactory. "So, Idia, what excuse do you have this time?" His tone was all but dripping with disdain.

Idia hesitated. This one was even more ridiculous than usual. "W-Well, they were in the middle of their skincare routine."

Vil’s perfectly arched brow shot up. "Their… skincare routine?"

Idia nodded furiously. "Yeah, like, you know the ten-step thing? They were deep in it—cleansing, exfoliating, moisturizing, all that jazz. You can’t just take someone’s soul mid-routine! Their skin would freak out from the stress. I’d be responsible for, like, eternal breakouts."

Vil stared at him in utter disbelief. "You’re telling me you let them live because of… skincare?"

"Hey, good skin is a serious commitment!" Idia defended, folding his arms.

Vil sighed, jotting down the next entry: Excuse #105: ‘Interrupting skincare would cause eternal breakouts.’

"I’ve never heard something so… absurd, yet strangely respectful," Vil muttered, rubbing his temples.

Finally, Malleus stood before Idia, arms crossed and looking ever so regal. He tilted his head slightly. "So, Shroud… what is your reason this time?"

Idia stammered. This one was, without a doubt, the dumbest excuse he’d ever come up with. "U-Uh… I got lost."

Malleus blinked. "Lost?"

"Yeah! There were… gargoyles."

"Gargoyles," Malleus repeated, deadpan.

"Look, I got distracted by their craftsmanship, and then I, uh, took a wrong turn," Idia said, voice shrinking by the second.

Malleus, maintaining his composure, glanced at the ever-growing list. "I see. Excuse #106: ‘Got distracted by gargoyles.’ A most… unique excuse."

Idia could feel his soul slowly withering under Malleus’s cool gaze.

Idia had managed to avoid reaping you so many times that even you had started to notice something was up. You weren’t sure why the world’s most awkward reaper kept showing up and then… not doing his job, but it had gotten to the point where you couldn’t help but laugh about it.

One day, after catching him lurking around awkwardly—again—you decided to confront him.

"Okay, I have to ask," you said, leaning casually against a tree. "Why do you keep sparing me? It’s not like you’ve been subtle about it."

Idia flinched, his hair flashing a bright blue as he tried to think of a response. "I-I don’t… what? N-No! That’s not…!"

You raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t take me because of tea parties, naps, gargoyles, and skincare routines, didn’t you?"

Idia froze, his mouth hanging open as he realized you somehow knew everything. "H-How did you—?"

"Lucky guess," you said, grinning. "So, what’s the real reason?"

Idia shuffled awkwardly, avoiding your gaze. "I-I just… I couldn’t… I’m not good at this, okay?! Reaping, or talking to people, or…" He trailed off into his usual nervous mumbling.

You chuckled, stepping closer to him. "Well, you know, if you keep sparing me, I’m gonna start thinking you like me or something."

Idia’s hair flared bright pink at your teasing, and he backed up a step, nearly tripping over his own feet. "W-What?! Like you?! No, no, that’s… that’s crazy! I mean, sure, you’re… cool, or whatever, but that doesn’t mean—"

You grinned wider, cutting him off. "So, you like me?"

His face flushed redder than his hair had ever glowed, and he stammered incoherently, "N-No! I mean… Y-Yes? I… I don’t know! It’s not like I’ve done this before!"

Your laugh rang out through the quiet air, and Idia looked mortified. You couldn’t help but find his awkwardness endearing. "Wow, Idia, I didn’t know grim reapers could be this cute."

"C-Cute?! Don’t… call me that!" He looked like he was ready to melt into the ground, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You stepped closer, smiling mischievously. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you. But if you’re that bad at taking souls, maybe you should stick to something you’re better at."

"Like what?" Idia asked, blinking in confusion.

"Like… taking me out for dinner instead," you suggested, your voice playful.

Idia’s eyes widened, and he gaped at you, absolutely dumbfounded. "D-Dinner?! You’re asking me out?!"

You laughed again, the sound light and teasing. "Well, you’ve spared my life at least ten times now. I think I owe you one."

For a moment, Idia just stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His brain seemed to be buffering. "A-A date? With me?"

"Yeah, with you," you confirmed with a wink. "Unless, of course, you’d rather finish your job and reap my soul?"

Idia practically jumped. "N-No! I-I mean, yes! I mean… I’d rather not… do the reaping thing. I-I can’t believe this is happening…"

You smiled softly, watching him fidget nervously. "So? What do you say? Dinner?"

Idia’s mind was racing, and his hair was flickering wildly between blue and pink. "I… I guess… y-yeah? Yes! Yes, I-I’d like that…"

As he stumbled over his words, you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head fondly. "Great. It’s a date, then."

Idia’s heart was practically doing somersaults in his chest, and he could hardly believe what had just happened. As you walked away with a cheerful wave, he stood there, frozen in disbelief.

Lilia, who had been quietly observing the entire thing from the shadows, stepped out with a gleeful smile. "Ah, young love! Isn’t it wonderful, Idia?"

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. "L-Lilia, please don’t…"

But Lilia was already laughing, delighted beyond words. "It’s about time you stopped making excuses, my boy! Now go get ready for your date! You’ve got a life to live—or, at the very least, a dinner to survive."

Idia mumbled something about how his life was over, but despite his grumbling, there was a small, awkward smile on his face. After all, he’d just managed to get a date without even trying… even if it had taken about a hundred failed reaping attempts to get there.

Masterlist

[writing-fanics]

not once

Sebastian Michaelis x F!Reader

Not even once did Sebastian think he’d end up falling in love with a human. Why, would be an immortal being a demon in fact want to fool around with such human emotions.

Toying with them for his own entertainment and manipulating them at their most vulnerable was quite enjoyable. But actually, falling in love developing feelings that made his immortal heart skip a beat?

and yet, here she was his beautiful wife fast asleep on the bed in one of the many rooms in the Phantomhive manor. that the young master so graciously gave her when went into labor only twelve hours ago.

He walked over towards the bassinet, peered over and smiled seeing the tiny half-demon offspring. Tiny whimpers, escaped the babies mouth as it squirmed. He smirked, picking up the child and cradling them in his arms.

“My child, you’re just as beautiful as your mother.” He cooed, over the infant who opened his eyes and had a faint smile on his face.

“My little, Arioch.” He cooed, he looked over towards his wife who was fast asleep. Young master, had already given him a few days off to be with his child and wife.

Arioch babbled, looking up at his father his tiny hands reaching up to touch his raven black hair. Sebastian smiled, “Already, growing up before my very eyes.” He said, and the infant giggled continuing to make nonsenseical babbles.

Arioch has taken the place of the most adorable being, on the entire planet. Step out of the way cats Sebastian’s son has taken your place.

Arioch giggled, and his eyes for a moment flash red and Sebastian smiled planting a kiss on his sons forehead. His son, looked just like his mother. Sebastian found absolutely adorable.

“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” A voice said, and he turned around seeing his wife awake and reaching out her arms to see her child.

Sebastian walked towards her leaning down kissing her on the lips, “He is,” He whispered, into her ear causing her to smile. As she looked at the infant, cooing over how cute he was and how much he looked like the two of them combined.

Arioch sneezed, causing [Y/n] to squeal at how cute their baby is. Sebastian looked between his wife and child, and didn’t know what he would do without them. Yes, he’d continue to serve the young master until their contract was over and he’d devour his soul.

Yet, during that time the demon had fallen in love with a human and made a child. Demons usually takes lives not create them and here he was holding the life he’d created in his arms. And it honestly felt surreal to him, he was a demon and yet was experiencing something so heavenly especially for someone who’s been damned to hell.

He knew that one day his wife would pass, his son he doesn’t know exactly. Arioch might live longer than a human but not be an immortal. “My love,” Sebastian said, his wife turned to look at him.

“Thank you, for sharing this experience with me,” He said, and she smiled planting a kiss on his cheek before placing one hand on his cheek.

“No, thank you. I love you so much Sebastian demon or not that doesn’t change how I feel.” She said, and he just grinned.

“Also, I think Grell found out that we have a child now and she’s not happy.” She said, and Sebastian frowned in annoyance seeing the angry grim reaper outside the window.

‘Bassy! It’s no fair!’

‘How does she get you and I don’t!’

“I’ll be right back my love.” He said, and she nodded before looking back at her baby smiling.

[bagerfluff]

Naughty Boy

Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader

Prompt - Teasing

Warnings - Pet names, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation, teasing, clothed sex, anal sex

AN: If you want to get straight to the smut go past the caution tape

You glared at your phone.

This was the fifth time in an hour that Casper has texted you. You were trying to do something important for your job.

If this went well then you would get more money and more money would mean a bigger apartment.

You didn’t buy your current apartment with thoughts of it housing two people. Now that it did, you realized that the apartment was quite small.

But it was hard when Casper texted you every few minutes about how much he missed you and how he wanted you to come home. You regret getting that phone.

You put your phone away and listened to the people speak, but just a few seconds later it dinged.

Everyone looked at you and you had grate your teeth to stop yourself from yelling.

“I’m sorry, something is wrong with my pet. The pet sitting keeps texting me. I'm sorry”, you said while looking at your phone. This time you felt enraged as you looked at the phone.

Casper had taken a photo of himself in a mirror wearing very revealing clothes with a not so PG text.

Your hand tightens around your phone, an erection growing in your pants. You calmed your expression and looked at everyone. You said that it was fine and told them to continue.

You muted your phone and focused on anything else but the erection. But you smiled at the revenge you were going to get when you got home.

“Welcome home, sunshi-”, Casper was pressed against a wall before he could finish his sentence.

Casper smiled into the kiss, grinding his clothed dick against yours. You groaned and pulled away, shoving Casper onto the bed. You stood over him as you removed your clothes.

“You know that I was almost kicked out because of you”, you said while throwing your shirt somewhere. Casper grinned, he wanted this.

It wasn’t his fault that you were busy and he was needy.

You leaned down on the bed, trapping Casper’s head in between your hands. You kissed him before leaning up and removing Casper’s pants.

You didn’t even remove Casper’s shirt or your pants. You pushed Casper farther onto the bed before lifting his legs and staring at his ass.

You rested one of Casper’s legs on your shoulder and pushed a finger into Casper’s hole. Casper moaned while you just laughed.

“You prepared already, what a perfect little slut”, you said before removing your finger. "Did you finger yourself too?" You asked and Casper nodded. "Wish I could have seen that", you said.

Making Casper groan and buck his hips up.

You reached down and unzipped your pants and brought your dick out. You immediately thrusted in and started a rough pace.

Casper, caught off guard at the pace, started moaning and whining like crazy. “Ah~ ah~ ah~, yes~ f-fuck~ yes~”, Casper moaned, moving the leg that wasn’t held by you down to curl around your waist.

You groaned as you felt Casper clench around you, finally happy that you were getting your anger and hornyness out. “It’s like you wanted this”, you said.

Casper didn’t confirm it but he didn’t deny it either. He just smiled and moaned. “Nngggeee~, f-fuck~ m-more~”, Casper moaned feeling his orgasm getting closer.

You knew it was getting close so you thrusted harder. Once you heard Casper let out a loud moan you stopped, keeping your dick Casper’s ass but not moving it.

Casper whined and bucked his hips up. “Why d-did you s-stop, come o-on”, Casper groaned, slowly coming down from his stolen high. “My little reaper, this is punishment”, you said with a smirk.

Slowly moving your dick in and out of Casper, just making Casper whin more and more horny. Casper kept moving his hips to try to get some stimulation.

“You were a naughty boy”, you said, making Casper stop.

You’ve called him that before, before you two got together. It made Casper feel weird before, he didn’t know if he liked it then. But now, that you were fucking him, Casper realized something.

He liked it.

It made his dick harder and he wanted to hear it again.

Casper moaned and bucked his hips, his hole clenching around you. You tilted your head before you realized what Casper was doing. “You like it don’t you, you like being called a naughty boy”, you said teasingly.

Which had the same effect from when you first called Casper that. Casper nodded, “y-yes, please f-fuck me”, Casper asked. You looked at Casper, hair spread out, face read and sweaty, looking so pretty.

“Okay, my naughty boy”, You said before continuing thrusting at a rapid pace. Casper moaned loudly and gripped the sheets with his hands.

“Nnngeee~, yes~ nnnggeee~ yes~, ahaha~”, Casper moaned. You groaned and thrusted harder and faster as you felt your orgasm get closer. “C-cumminggg~!”

Casper moaned before he came over his chest. You thrusted one more time before cumming into Casper. You let go of Casper’s leg and leaned down, kissing Casper on the forehead.

“My naughty boy”, you said, making Casper whine and get hard again.

[stoutguts]

Ghoap 💀🧼 relationship dynamic HC (shall we?)

Simon "Ghost" Riley is no scaredy-cat.

The man has been through hell on Earth, survived torture, abuse,—and being buried alive for fuck’s sake. They managed,—even after everyone he loved was taken from him. Has been through countless tense and anxiety inducing situations throughout their military career.

But Ghost has nerves of steel, excellent control over his emotions, and naturally that’s why it’s so damn good at its job.

Though…there is one thing that scares the shit out of them. Soap.

Simon thought he was all big and bad,—intimidating,—until he met John “Soap” MacTavish.

Johnny is only around half its size, yet he manages to be even scarier than Ghost somehow. Which is wild, considering one of them looks like the damn grim reaper with that skull mask of theirs.

Simon may have a reputation for “the guy you don’t wanna mess with”, to the point where people won’t even bother with them.—But Soap’s got more than a few screws loose himself.

New recruits and others will at least approach him,—but with serious caution, and are careful to watch their mouths around him.

His anger is explosive, fitting, for a demolitions expert. A total loose cannon when he wants to to be. Some recruits even refer to him as “the psycho Scot” or "Ghost's guard dog". Titles he takes to with pride.

Johnny’s known for putting people in their place, and with every fight he’s ever gotten into,—he’s always won. Often sending his opponents to medical.

Most of the time though, he just has to look at someone and it scares them shitless. He’s mastered his death glare, and it even sends shivers up Ghost’s spine.

The man’s a total gym rat and health nut, nothing but muscle, and he trains the most of anyone Simon has ever seen. Works out constantly, and loves to get his body moving. He can never simply sit still, and being active actually helps him to clear his head and blow off steam. Always keeping track of his calories, weighing out his portions, and whatnot,—with a pescatarian and vegetarian lifestyle. He’s also a nature lover and tree hugger,—loves to go on hikes or go camping in his spare time. He’s naturally a reigning champ when it comes to hand to hand combat, and is a highly skilled fighter, in fact, he specializes in it. He’s capable of taking out tangos with nothing but his fists alone. He even beats Simon to a pulp on the sparring mats most of the time. (Ghost may like him beating the snot out of him more than they than would like to admit…)

Soap is used for interrogations, (as he also just so happens to be an interrogation expert). He’s morally bankrupt just enough,—to where he’ll do just about anything to get answers out of someone. Whether it involves violence or not.

Simon has seen the sheer extent of the injuries sustained by the poor bastards that were stupid enough to challenge him, that pissed him off, or that he’s extracted information out of—and that was enough for Ghost.

He recalls that one time he directly witnessed Johnny, feigning calmness, take a recruit’s hand in his, then proceed to snap the guy’s thumb clean in half in one fluid motion. (The recruit had decided to wolf whistle at him when he was walking over to Ghost,—after their duties had wrapped up regarding training the newbies).

Simon is a smart man, and knows when to pick his battles. Soap being the battle he most certainly knows NOT to pick.

Although Johnny is more lenient with Ghost than other people, and lets them get away more,—Simon’ll be damned if it ends up on the receiving end of Soap’s wrath.

I really like the idea of Soap being the dominating one in the relationship, but Ghost not being entirely submissive either.

Like Simon can and will be the one to put him in HIS place, and snap him back to reality. Though still allows him his fun.

While Johnny relies on Ghost to let him know when he’s “too much” or taking things too far,—allows himself to be muzzled. Making a point to let Simon have the control, at least every now and then. Of course, while challenging Ghost’s authority a healthy amount and protesting the whole time.

Both try to be as respectful as possible of the other’s needs and desires, while also "maintaining their roles". But both are effectively switches, whether it's in the bedroom or not, and mainly put up this dom and sub act for other people and for their own amusement. They have no fixed roles, truly.

SOAP BEING JUST AS MENTALLY FUCKED AS GHOST MY BELOVED

thanks for coming to my Ted talk

(Also, the tidbit about Soap snapping a recruit’s thumb in half is actually based on a family member of mine’s story. Basically, my older sister had this guy pour water down the back of her shirt in high school, and in response, she straight up broke his thumb/snapped it in half lmao).

[gguk-n]

Chapter 2- First Encounters

Arranged For Love (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Maybe grandma knows best. Maybe Y/N and Carlos should start listening to Y/N's grandma.

You could only imagine what had gone down in the Kastner household. You could hear Y/N screaming. She wasn't happy and she was about to make it known. "Mum, this is crazy. I'm not marrying some crusty old dude" she shouted. "Sweetheart, he isn't some crusty old dude." her mother emphasised. "A little older than you sure but he is a handsome man" her mother reasoned. "No." she retorted, "Dad, I get why you can't say no to your mother but this is just atrocious. You are forcing your daughter like in the 1500s to marry a random man grandma chose" she whined looking at her father on the verge of tears. "Angel, it's nothing like that. Carlos is a nice man, he comes from a nice family. I literally grew up with his father. I'm sure if you met him you'll like him" her father reasoned. "Yeah, sure" she replied sarcastically running a hand through her hair. "I-You-ugh-" she sighed, "You guys met each other during your masters programme and then fell in love naturally, got married and had children. Why do I not get the chance to find some one? Go out on dates, have my heartbroken a few times before I find the one but you guys won't even let me be a stupid young adult in peace" she sighed, angry tears falling from her eyes. "Oh, no sweetheart, please don't cry." her mother tried to console her. "Please, leave. I don't want to talk to you guys right now" she stated pushing them out and closing the door. Her parents sighed, "She'll come around" her father cajoled her mother.

Carlos senior wasn't having very much luck with Carlos junior either. "Dad, I don't get it. I met this lady, who apparently left a lasting impact on you, good for you" junior emphasised, "like once. I'm not marrying her grand daughter." junior tried to reason. "Son, she is a good woman. I'm sure the grand daughter must be just as good and fun to be around as well." senior said. "I have a felling you two will get along well" senior spoke. "You don't know that. I don't want to marry someone just because" junior stated. "I think you should meet her. After that, we'll think about it" senior tried to coerce his son to join them for dinner. Junior was so annoyed with his parents and some how both his sisters for on their side. Carlos couldn't believe he was being forced into meeting a girl they wanted to marry him off to.

Carlos knew that there was no way to avoid the dinner since his father would personally drag him there if he didn't comply and he had no plans of finding his father's brute strength out. So, reluctantly Carlos got dressed and went with his family.

Y/N, on the other hand, hadn't left her room since the outburst she had a few hours ago. Her mother her tried to reason with her to get her to come out to no avail. It was only after her grandmother came to talk to her, "Sweetheart, it's me" her grandma knocked her door. "I know you're angry at me. Stay angry but do meet him once" she said. "I don't want to" Y/N shouted. "Give it a try. This old woman has seen a few things in her time" she chided. "I'll embarrass you if you force me" Y/N retorted. "Go ahead. I don't mind" her grandma spoke. "Just remember, I'll be gone in sometime and you'll remember what I said" her grandma sighed. The door clicked open, "Why would you say that?" Y/N asked in tears. "Honey, because it is true and I just want what's best for you" she explained. "I want you around forever, that's best for me" Y/N spoke barely above a whisper. "I'll try to fight off the grim reaper" Anika laughed. "Now, will you get dressed, they'll be here soon" her grandma asked. And that's how Y/N got dressed and joined them for dinner.

The Sainz had already arrived and were talking to the Kastner's when Y/N entered the living room. The place felt slightly cramped with the number of guests who were sat in that room but extremely homely. Y/N scanned the room, her eyes darting from one face to another until they rested on a dashing young man. He looked like a model, it couldn't be the guy her family was trying to set her up with, could it? she thought. Her grandmother beckoned Y/N towards her and introduced everyone to Y/N. "It's nice to meet you" she said with a tight lipped smile. Yes that man was handsome but she wasn't giving them the satisfaction by caving in within seconds of seeing him.

As she moved down the line, greeting everyone, she couldn't wait to be introduced to Carlos. "That's Carlos junior, he's a Formula One driver" her grandmother mentioned as Y/N shook his hand. "It's so nice to meet you too" Carlos said, his accent thick. Y/N felt a shudder run down her spine as Carlos spoke. "That's my lovely grand daughter, Y/N, I've told you so much about" her grandmother said. Y/N turned to see her grandma gleaming with joy. Oh, she was a sucker for Spaniards, this wasn't good; she couldn't let them have their way, she thought. When she had returned to her grandmother's side, "He's the guy I'm hoping you'll marry" she whispered in Y/N's ear.

Carlos wasn't sure what he was expecting but he was not expecting to have his breath be taken away. When Y/N entered the room, visible annoyance on her face, Carlos found his lips twitching. He didn't believe in love at first site but he might've just experienced it. Her hands were soft and warm, he felt a spark as they met to greet each other, he only hoped she felt the same. Carlos was a goner and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to his dad or this Y/N girl.

After a little while of chatting and stolen glances on both Y/N and Carlos's part; they couldn't let the other know they were interested, it would be a told you so moment for their parents and they had no interest in inflating their ego. The families moved outside which had been turned into a makeshift dining room to accommodate everyone. Y/N and Carlos were pushed together to be sat next to each other in hopes that they would start making small talk.

Y/N was slightly intimidated by him if she was being honest, the more she looked at him, the more heart beat faster. He looked like he was carved by God, he was pretty and handsome to look at. His hair was tousled so perfectly, and his eye lashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, his lips were so soft and plump, she wondered what they felt like.

Carlos wasn't any better. His eyes scanned her face, the way her nose scrunched when her family said something or the way her hair flowed as she tried to tie it back or the way her jewellery reflected against the soft light of the candles. He was mesmerised, her laugh was so full of life, it made him smile. She was so full of life, always keeping the conversation going with everyone but him. He thought, did she dislike the idea that much that she had barely spoken to him the whole night, choosing to address anyone but him as everyone had dinner. Maybe he was hurt, a little, he wouldn't lie.

After dinner, Anika noticed how the two of them had barely interacted or spoken to each other, much to her dismay. So, she took matters into her own hands; "Why don't the two of you walk around for a bit? Maybe Y/N can show you the house. You both will get bored with all the adult talk" she tried to shush them away. "But our siblings are still here" Y/N tried to reason. "They are going to watch a movie or something. You should show Carlos around" her grandmother insisted and pushed the pair away.

Y/N and Carlos walked away, "Hi" she said meekly. "Hi" Carlos replied. The backyard was darker now, only lit by the moon light. "So, you race" Y/N trailed off. "Yeah, Formula One. Do you watch?" he asked. "Honestly, no. Heard about it today" she replied sheepishly. "Never been a huge sports girl" she tried to ease the situation. "My siblings watch I guess" she tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, they told me. They're big fans it seems." Carlos spoke. "Maybe you guys could come to a race, when it's possible" Carlos suggested. "I'm sure they'll love that" she smiled. Carlos felt his heart beat faster. "Won't you be joining them?" Carlos asked hopefull. "I don't get the sport" she stopped when Carlos's mood seem to dampen, "but if you'll explain it to me, maybe I'll enjoy it" she chuckled nervously. God, this habit of nervous laughter was gonna end her, she thought. Carlos seemed to cheer up after that. They walked around for a bit. Y/N even showed him the house.

"Have you ever visited Madrid?" Carlos asked towards the end of their tour. "No, always wanted to though" she replied. "Then you should, you have a tour guide ready" he said pointing at himself. "I don't want to bother you" she smiled. "I don't think it would be much of a bother really." Carlos smiled back. "Maybe we could exchange number, incase I come to Madrid" she said shyly. "Sure" Carlos said quickly exchanging their phones.

"When should we plan the wedding?" Anika asked the two couples. "Let the kids decide" Ivan spoke. "I would but I think Y/N won't marry him out of spite" Anika laughed. "Would she?" Rose thought out. "I think a winter or spring wedding would be wonderful, nothing fancy." Anika stated. "I'll have to discuss that with Carlos" Carlos senior said. "Sure sure, take your time" Anika said.

In Anika's eyes the dinner felt like a success. The two of them were talking cordially. "I think this was a success" she told Ivan and Carlos senior. The two men looked at each other than Anika, "We agree" they said looking at Carlos and Y/N talking as they returned back to the living room. "How did you find the place Carlos?" Anika asked. "It's nice" Carlos replied. "I'm happy you had fun" Anika said patting his back. "Come back whenever you want. You're always welcome" she insisted.

Everyone hugged each other good bye. Anika had gotten teary eyes as she bid everyone good bye. "I don't know when I'll ever get to you all again" she spoke slowly. "Don't say that. You'll live long" Carlos senior spoke hugging her. "It was nice meeting you" Carlos whispered in Y/N's ear. "yeah. come back sometime" Y/N said. "Do keep in touch" Carlos said. "I will." Y/N spoke.

Y/N felt giddy as she got changed. She hadn't felt this way, whenever she hung out with any guy. He had a great personality with his breath-taking looks. She found herself hovering over his number a few time over the next couple days.

While back at his races, Carlos found himself thinking about Y/N. It was weird for him to be this preoccupied with anything like this other than racing. He hoped she would text him some time since he was too scared to do it himself.

Taglist- @herexpertcollector @redrevvedup @chaostudee @larastark3107 @jovialpainterunknown @vip-access @sugarvibez @champomiel @inarabee @virazeeee @seonghwaexile @champ15ns @ajthefujoshi @musicheaux @npcmia @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @mochipatch @gleeblegnarp @formula1-motogpfan @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[satoruhour]

a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me

the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.

when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.

gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—

“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.

it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.

gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.

he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.

you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.

“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.

and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.

not like this. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.

“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 

“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.

“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”

“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.

“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.

“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.

“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.

but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.

the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[iite-cool]

thinking about simon being like a cat. a mean ol' one all teeth and claws, scratching and hissing when you stretch a hand out to him. biting you because that's all he knows how to do - it's all he's ever done - and it's kept him alive.

that's what his whole life's been about - staying alive. surviving. maiming anything he sees before it can get to him first. so he doesn't know how to react when you don't bare your teeth at him but just smile and make him tea. he reacts like a stray cat does when it's offered warmth - he's confused. and his confusion gives way to anger and again he spits fire because what else is he to do? accept your kindness? bah! it's a hoax, he knows that. you'll tire of him and claw at his neck sooner or later so he'd rather not let you close enough to do so.

and when you don't give up, and you keep smiling that gorgeous, dazzling smile at him, he doesn't know what to do. no one's ever done this before - been all soft and sweet and only wanting to be allowed to scratch at his ears in reward. why were you doing this? why didn't you run away when you saw how he snarled at you? why do you look at him with those big, beautiful eyes like he's the only person in the world?

at a complete loss, he lets you pet him and oh that smile he'd let you tear his heart out if you would just keep smiling at him. "hey, simon!" god, he wants to drown in the sound of your lips wrapping around his name. you come close to him and his brain stops working, eyes wide and lost when you wrap your arms around him and pull him to you. warmth. is this what it feels like? he wants to live forever in the crux of your arms, creating a life for himself between them.

he couldn't stop purring if he tried, if he were a cat he'd spend the rest of his time on this earth, the earth that tried to bury and kill him and is now making amends by sending him you, running between your legs and swishing his tail around you. simon riley who's always had his head on a swivel, who's not gotten a full night's sleep in a decade lest he miss the chance to look his reaper in the eyes, now sleeps with his head on your lap, belly up and purring.

masterlist

please comment/reblog!! i have so many thoughts about this man that need to be talked about

[dilftaroooo]

tw: degradation + dubcon

Robber!ghost who intrudes your home in the wee hours of the night — duffel bag in hand, he stalks his way through the back window of your parents' home. The owners decided to take a vacation to the Bahamas as their nice getaway, thanks to the heavy research Soap indulged himself into before letting Ghost go on the mission.

Robber!ghost who infiltrates the master bedroom in search of the luxurious jewelry and gems stashed away in the tiny, little safe they have poorly hidden in the depths of their shared closet. He's quick to warm the shiny goodies in the palm of his hand before gently placing them in his duffel bag.

Robber!ghost who then walks into a room filled with baby pink and lace bedding to continue fulfilling his own greed only to stumble across a body resting elegantly upon the white sheets of the queen size bed — "Bloody hell..." Soap specifically told him everyone would be out of the house so why was this broad sleeping soundly on her sheets as if though her home wasn't getting robbed?

It isn't until robber!ghost takes a focused glance at her vulnerable state to suddenly realize just how gorgeous she was laying there, mouth agape and releasing soft snores with almost every inhale. Her hand splayed across the width of her stomach as she grins at whatever dream her pretty head blesses her with.

Robber!ghost who can't help but steal a taste of her. It'll only be a little bit as he hovers over her to take a soft whiff at her neck — his nose overflowed with daisies and peonies and hints of vanilla. She must've been fresh out the shower because no one can naturally smell like that unless she is an exception to the rule due to how sweet she looks.

Robber!ghost who mildly regrets his decision as you wake up from your slumber, eyes shot wide open as you take a moment to drink in the dark figure with the skull balaclava in front of you. If you hadn't known better you would've thought your time on God's green earth was up and the grim reaper came to fulfill his duty by dragging you with him. His hand covers your quivering lip as he reminds you repeatedly that he wasn't going to hurt you. He would never think of such a thing.

Robber!ghost who grunts at your fruitless struggling because your leg rubs against his groin and you gasp at the feeling of the hard object, mistaking it for a gun since it was so dark for you to see anything. Why would a thief not come prepared with a device to help threaten his victims? Unfortunately for you, this was a different kind of gun.

Valuing your life, you tell robber!ghost that you''ll give him anything for him to keep you breathing and ghost can't help but perk up at the offer. It sounds cliche but who can resist a cute, helpless women offering something so priceless?

Robber!ghost who doesn't hesitate to take it for what it is and submerge his hand deep into your pajama pants and feel your wetness. You must've liked it because the moan you set free was riddled in lascivious need. He'd rub his thumb across your slit, "Is this turning you on? Dirty whore likes to be fondled by strange men intruding her home. You're seriously enjoying this? Sick."

Robber!ghost feels good when he stuffs his meaty fingers in your sopping hole. All the fight you had in you perished when he made you come around him, squirming underneath the intense gaze of the man with the skull mask — eyes vantablack as he watches you without blinking like he's watching his favorite football team hit a goal.

Robber!ghost who leaves through your bedroom window and you follow suit as he climbs off using the rope he had in store. He looks back at you before saying "I'll be back for more, luv." His accent was thick and hefty, you let out a shaky sigh at the pleasurable sound. There was nothing else you can do but just wait.

[azuries]

SEES RYOJI MASTERPOST i hope you guys enjoy reading through it! i was heavily inspired by all the amazing art and content ive seen of the concept that i wanted to explore it too!

ART:

Moonlight Trio

Yukari and Ryoji going shopping (SEES!Ryoji winter clothes variations)

Ryoji accidentally hitting MC with his scythe

SEES!Ryoji sketch dump

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy splash

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy Storyboard

Ryomina in Tartarus

Ryomina in Tartarus P2

Ryomina in Tartarus P3

SEES!Ryomina Illustration

Cooking with Yukari

SEES!Ryoji Sprite edit

SEES!Ryoji fanmade P3RE screenshots

Ryomina SEES!Ryoji animatic

feral SEES!Ryoji

Clumsy SEES!Ryoji

Charmed Ryoji

All Out Attack Splash

SEES!Ryoji Cut In Splash

Comic

Ryoji learns about evokers

More SEES Ryoji sketches

Ryoji killing the Reaper

Twitter post  

After Ryoji finds his resolve through the Hero, he offers to join his team. He gives him a choice to go through a better, yet harder way to get through Tartarus, a way only he can access. It features new bosses, content, and a new spin of the final fight with Strega.

Contains: Art, battle stats, Theurgy, combat dialogue, Tartarus dialogue and banter, and more!

Full post under the cut:

—-

This AU explores the idea that instead of Ryoji leaving for the last  month, he offers to join the team as a temporary team member to lend his power to help SEES reach the remaining floors of Tartarus before he merges with Nyx. More events happen that prolong the time you spend together. 

Ingame, it’s treated like a bonus mission and an addition to get to know Ryoji better during the aftermath of November. 

As a new addition to the team, he’ll join SEES in the dorm and have his own version of FTEs with plant tending, movie watching, book reading and cooking. He’ll have interactions with other party members. 

The player will also get to know more on his personal feelings as the Appriser. Through conversing with Ryoji, you learn in depth about Tartarus, and the player gets to see a more subdued side of him as he tries to come to terms with his identity. 

He uses an evoker to trigger his form as Thanatos instead of using it to summon a Persona.

The player can choose to go through this route, or play the game like how it was originally set. The ending remains the same.

Party Stats:

Level: Scaleable, 2 levels higher 

Element: Dark and Almighty

Weakness: None, reflects pierce damage 

Combat style: Prioritizes debuffing, tank 

Theurgy - Death’s Call: Deals massive almighty damage to all foes. Fears both enemies and allies. 

Theurgy condition: When Ryoji sees his friends suffer a lethal blow, he feels determined to take vengeance.

Theurgy Personality bonus:

Chance to grant Arcana Burst even without completing your Major Arcana stack.

+ More damage to weak foes. 

Intercepts an incoming lethal blow for a party member.

DIALOGUE:

Ryoji’s first Tartarus entrance dialogue: 

Ryoji: - So this is Tartarus.

I, I can feel her. She’s keeping an eye on us. On me.

Remember that I’m here to help. Tartarus is Nyx’s realm, but I should know a better way to help you get to the top. 

Keep in mind that I may not be as impenetrable while I’m here, and shadows will be a lot more hostile if we go this way. Are you sure you wanna do this?

MC:

> Nowhere to go but up.

> Let’s do this.

> Are you sure there’s no other way?

Don’t worry. Whatever‘s waiting for us, I won’t let anything happen to you. They’ll have to get through me first. 

First Summon dialogue: 

I have to do this. Everyone..I’m sorry for what you’re about to see. 

Get out here, Thanatos! 

Turning into Thanatos (Persona Summon) 

If this is what it takes.

Please look away.

Thanatos!  

Do what you must!

Combat 

Shift dialogue:

All up to you! 

We’re in this together!

Receiving end of shift dialogue: 

I’m on it! 

They’ll get what's coming to them.

Item use: 

This will help, right? 

Getting healed:

I don’t deserve this.

Death:

I-I hope it was enough. 

Sorry..

AILMENTS

Distress

It’s over.. Why do we still try?

Confuse 

Guys? What’s going on?!

Rage

Come on! Take me down if you can! 

Charm

So, how about dinner?~

Down

You’re kidding me! 

Shock

What is this?! 

AOA

Before All Out Attack:  

We’re going in! 

Before splash art: 

And that's how it's done! 

Splash art Caption: 

DEATH IS INEVITABLE

All Out Attack splash art line:

Pointless to deny your fate.

Basic victory dialogue: 

I hope it was worth it. 

Heh, how was that? 

Battle aftermath:

That was impressive. You’re all amazing!

Stairs discovery

Found the stairs. There’s no time to lose! 

Found the way up! You know best, leader.

Treasure

Ooh, something shiny! 

Hey, guys! Found something useful? Maybe?

SEES advantage: 

They never saw it coming! 

Ambush / enemy advantage: 

Leader, stay close to me!

Hit by crit: 

That’s impossible! 

SEES Tartarus dialogue w/Ryoji 

Junpei: Hey, so.. Ryoji… What’s with the long scarf? And how do you not slip from it when you run? 

Ryoji: I don’t think it’s that long! 

Yukari: Seriously? Out of all the questions you can ask him, that’s what you go with? 

—-

Mitsuru: For someone with no prior experience, you’ve been keeping up well, Ryoji-kun. 

Ryoji: I’m glad you think so, Kirijo-senpai.

Akihiko: Don’t push yourself, though, alright?

—-

Junpei: Ryoji! Now that you live with us, we have got to continue the game we were playing! 

Ryoji: I don’t think you’d want to…Didn’t I delete your save on accident?

Junpei: Eh, I wasn’t paying much attention to the story in the first place. 

—-

Ryoji: I never got to thank you before for helping me settle in, Fuuka. How about I take you out? 

Fuuka: Oh, of course! Let’s invite the others too!

Junpei: …Yikes, dude.

—-

Fuuka: I’ve always wanted to do karaoke with you all. You should join us, Ryoji-kun!

Ryoji: Oh, m-me...?

Junpei: Yeah, you’re always holed up in your room and we never know where you’re out at night! How about we sing our hearts out instead? 

Ryoji: Ahh.. haha..I… I’ll think about it. 

—-

Ryoji: *Humming Mass Destruction* 

Aigis: Ryoji-san. Were you the one making those sounds? 

Ryoji: Sorry! Makoto-kun and I were listening to some songs, and now I can’t get it out of my head. 

—-

Ryoji: Aigis..About what happened before. I feel like I should apologize one more time. 

Aigis: Instead of apologies, let’s make a promise. That we’ll see this through, together.

Ryoji: …Yeah. You’re right.  

—-

Aigis: It’s strange. In the real world, you’re impenetrable. But in Tartarus...

Ryoji: Until the promised day, I’m an obstacle to Nyx. I wouldn’t put it past her to limit my power. 

Mitsuru: So she was expecting this. Well, we just have to plan accordingly, then.

—-

Aigis: I decided to live, but…how do I even begin? How would I know? 

Ryoji: I already sense life within you, Aigis. You’re doing more than enough.

—-

Ryoji: Wandering Tartarus must feel repetitive. Maybe I can try something! I can add some arcade machines? 

Ryoji: Oh… but if I do that, Tartarus will just take it away again. *sigh* Nevermind, then.

Ken: Can.. Can you actually do that?!

Yukari: *sigh* Of course he can’t. 

—-

Akihiko: How are you holding up, Mochizuki? Think you can still keep up?

Ryoji: Heh, that’s not even a question, Senpai.

—-

Ryoji: I hope I’m not bringing you guys down. What do you think, Koromaru-san? 

Koromaru: *barks enthusiastically*

Fuuka: Hahaha. Koro-chan seems to enjoy your company!

—-

Yukari: Whew..! You guys notice the shadows have gotten…much more alert?

Akihiko: You’re right. It’s like we unlocked the deepest depths of Tartarus that Nyx didn’t want us to see.

—-

Junpei: Jeez Ryoji, you weren’t kidding. The shadows of this detour are a whole different monster! 

Ryoji: I’m sorry, Junpei. But I promise it’s just a little longer. 

Junpei: Who am I to back down from a challenge? This’ll be a piece of cake! 

—-

Mitsuru: Are you settling in the dorm well, Ryoji-kun?

Ryoji: Oh. I am, thank you. 

Mitsuru: Of course. Just let us know if you need anything.

—-

Ken: Did anyone hear footsteps in the boys’ dorm last night? 

Yukari: Must have been Aigis sneaking to Makoto’s room, even if I told her to not leave past curfew…

Aigis: It was not me. I was out for my monthly checkup. 

Yukari: Then… who was it?

Ryoji: It wasn’t me! 

Yukari: No one said it was you! 

—-

Ken: So, where have you been living before, well, all of this, Ryoji-senpai?

Ryoji: I-I actually don’t know. Anything outside of school and Makoto-kun becomes a blur.

Fuuka: Ryoji-kun…

—-

Ryoji: You’re amazing to lead such a capable team, Makoto-kun. You look good like this. 

—-

Yukari: Ryoji-kun and I went thrift shopping the other day. It was actually pretty fun!

Ryoji: Thanks for taking me out, Takeba-san. I wanted that jacket, though.. 

Yukari: Unless you wanna blind someone with that thing, there’s no good reason to wear it! 

Ryoji: *sighs sadly*

—-

Ryoji: There were so many couples on Paulownia Mall for Christmas Eve. It was lovely to see.

Junpei: Ooo, does our newest member have a special someone they have in mind?

Ryoji: I-I wouldn’t say that..

Junpei: Hahaha! You’re like a tomato right now, dude! 

Ryoji: Hey, knock it off!

—-

Ryoji: Wait, you’ve reached past the 200th floor?! Akihiko: All in a day’s work. Everyone has been putting in their all. 

—-

Akihiko: You’re hardly breaking a sweat. What’s your routine, Mochizuki?

Ken: I’m guessing it’s him not being human in the first place?

Akihiko: Ken, that’s not..!

Ryoji: It’s alright, I don’t mind. He has a point, though.

—-

Yukari: I won these chocolate bars, I brought them in case anyone wanted a snack. Want some? 

Ryoji: Oh, that’s okay. I don’t eat sweets that much. 

—-

Mitsuru: I have to say it was quite convenient for the Kirijo Group to have an extra weapon. 

Ken: Yeah, and what’re the odds it was a scythe too?

Ryoji: Hahaha…. I guess.

—-

Koromaru *bark*

Aigis: Koromaru-san is asking that if you’re Death, what will that make of the Reaper?

Junpei: I bet Ryoji here can take him down, no problem! 

Ryoji: I’d rather not stick around to find out. For your sakes.

—-

Ryoji: I was told you lost a close friend to the Dark Hour. I’m sorry for your loss.

Mitsuru: …Thank you, Ryoji-kun.

Akihiko: He’d want us to move forward. There’s no use dwelling in the past.

Ryoji: I guess you’re right. I’m here to help however I can. 

—-

Koromaru: *bark bark* 

Junpei: Hey… you think Koromaru sensed Ryoji’s true identity? 

Ken: Oh, do you mean because  of dogs’  intuition to ghosts and spirits? 

Fuuka: I don’t think Ryoji-kun’s just any ghost though..!

—-

Ryoji: Hey Takeba-san. Can I ask you something?

Yukari: I swear, if it’s you trying to ask me out again…

Ryoji: Oh, that’s not what I was gonna- Wait, do you want me to? Because-

Mitsuru: -I think I saw something important there, leader. Let’s check it out.

Ryoji: This feels too familiar.

—-

Junpei: Kyoto was so fun! School trips should happen more often. 

Yukari: *glare*

Junpei: Eep! 

Ryoji: Ah-! I-I swear, that wasn’t our intention! It was all a misunderstanding! Leader, tell her! 

—-

SP LOW: 

Mitsuru: Ryoji-kun. Make sure not to strain yourself. 

Ryoji: I’m fine, please don’t worry. I can’t let up in front of a pretty girl like you, now can I? 

—-

Fuuka: Leader… Ryoji seems tired. 

—-

If Makoto has low SP: 

Ryoji: You don’t look good…Please, pace yourself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

FTEs: (WIP)

Plant tending event

anddd thats it so far!! if this post ever needs updating, i definitely will!

thank you so much for reading! it really means a lot!