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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

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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.”

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revelboo · 18 days ago

Note

Hey! Hi! Absolutely love your writing so much! I look forward to everything you post, and appreciate what you do a lot!! I’ve definitely come to appreciate and learn more about transformers cause of you!

Really just wanted to show my gratitude :]]]

Oh, and look what I’ve done to poor Megs

Thank you! Honestly, giant Roddy is probably his worst fear, because he can be so much more annoying

Everything Is Alright Pt 89

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Venting tiredly as he walks past Thundercracker in the hall, for a second Megatron can swear the other Seeker has the scent of human clinging to him, too. Must just be his imagination, though. Starscream? It’s not like he’d not realized the Seeker was a bit of a freak, but xenophilia? Fragging an organic alien? Maybe. Running a hand over his helm, he grimaces. Maybe it’s the size difference? The Seeker getting off on being bigger than a partner. But Soundwave? Both of them together when he’d been sure they hated each other? Surely, it’s not what it had looked like. Because seeing that interaction had left him with so many more questions. Two of his commanding officers can’t be deviants. Surely not. There’s a morbid sort of curiosity despite himself to figure it out, though.

• Trying to get yourself back in control as the panic attack shakes you, it’s their hands on you that ground you. Calm you. You’d known you’d been gone a long time, the guy who’d driven you home that night Star had tried to abandon you had said as much. Not realizing the actual time lost, but knowing it was long enough for everyone to have just assumed you were dead. Most of your family is on the other coast, you’d never been super close and it’s been a long time since you’d gone home to visit. Someone would have contacted them, though. Told them you were missing. Had that guy told the cops he’d taken you home? That you’d been found alive? Had they gone looking and found you gone again? Had your family been told, getting their hopes up only to have them dashed? Because you’ve been so wrapped up in yourself and Star and Soundwave that you’d barely thought of your family.

• Helm nudging the side of your head as you start to calm, Soundwave slides a hand under your shirt, surfing his palm against you to strengthen that connection. To try and understand what he’d done to hurt you. Feels that guilt twisting inside you, hurting. “I’m awful,” you whisper. “I didn’t really even think about them. At all.” Servos tightening on you, he retracts his mask and presses his mouth against your throat. Deepening that connection, but also because he needs to. Trying to comfort you with his touch.

• “Who?” Star growls, hands cupping your face, unsettled by those teary eyes as he runs a servo against your cheek. Are you talking about that other human? Grieving the stranger he’d seen in photos in your home? Whose belongings had been scattered among your own. Your breath mingles with his intakes as he tries to ignore Soundwave draped against your back. Hating the other mech still, wanting to lash out, but resisting so you don’t get more upset. Do you miss that other human? Regret bonding to him? Miss your freedom and that other life?

• Star’s lips brush yours, not a kiss just sharing the same breath. His tone was a demand, but his hands are gentle on you. Surprisingly patient when you know it’s not his strong suit. “I’ve been with you for months,” you say, not sure if he’ll understand. Or care. While he’s shown you time and again that he cares about you, you’re pretty sure it’s only you. Anything you adjacent, Soundwave, your family, he doesn’t seem to care about. He’s never even asked about your family, but you haven’t asked about his, either. You really are awful. Both of you. Wanting to ask if you can go home. Get your phone and at least call them to let them know you’re okay, but afraid that Star will refuse. “Everyone must think I’m dead.”

• Head lifting to glare at Star as the Seeker’s wings droop as if relieved that’s what’s wrong, Soundwave rumbles softly until the SIC looks at him. Sees Star curl a lip slightly, still furious with him and seeing him as a threat and a traitor. Surely, he’s not so dense as to not realize that he needs to say something. Even if it’s just to commiserate with your misery. Knowing the mech is selfish, but realizing how selfish is infuriating. Because anyone around you that’s not him is a threat, endangering you and his hold on you. That if not for Soundwave hearing you and finally investigating, the Seeker would have fully isolated you to ensure you can only look to him, only trust him. Only need him. “Can arrange for you to speak with them,” he says, watching Star tense at his words. He can arrange it so the communication can’t be traced back to their location. There’ll be no danger and you need this. Even if it’s saying goodbye, you need closure and he’s going to make sure you get anything you need. Despite Starscream.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #idw soundwave #idw megatron

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fakish-audacity · 7 months ago

Text

Hey I haven’t seen anyone say this yet so sorry if I’m repeating it: BUT. Can we talk about how Orym is walking proof to Chetney that he HAS hurt a kid he gave a toy to. Yeah, it was indirectly, but Orym grew up with Pockopea toys— and is also the one Chet lashed out at early in C3. He has the scars to prove it.

It’s just something about the imagery of Chetney seeing this horrifying vision of these kids he gave so much kindness to be mutilated at his own hands— and then waking up from it face to face with Orym who also was one of those kids, who Chetney DID attack when he was out of control.

Anyways, I need them to have a talk next episode bc goddamnnnn.

#critical role #bells hells #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #orym of the air ashari #chetney pock o'pea #bell’s hells #cr3e97

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parkerslatte · 8 days ago

Text

The Purest Kind of Love || Part Three

Azriel x Fem!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: murder attempt. minor panic attack.

Summary: Eris Vanserra arrives at the Night Court to discuss trade deals, alliances and anything that would benefit him as High Lord. During a meeting, things go south quite quickly.

The Purest Kind of Love Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

PREVIOUS / NEXT

•••

Weeks had passed since Y/N had felt that damned bond snap with Eris Vanserra. There were days where the bond was faint, as if it no longer existed but on others, she felt a strong pull, barely able to resist it. Concentrating on her work on those particular days was beginning to get increasingly difficult. All of her work had been conducted from her own cottage, she hadn’t given anything to Rhys as of yet, their final conversation replaying in her mind. Anger coursed through her veins whenever she thought about it. If she saw Rhys’s face anytime soon she was sure she was going to connect her palm to it.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone from the Inner Circle since the day after Eris’s celebration. For once, she was not sure about how they would react to the news of her new mating bond– assuming Azriel had already told them. She knew that there would be a few angry faces amongst the group, Mor’s especially.

With a sigh Y/N pulled away from her open notebook, rubbing her eyes. The words she had written had only begun to blur together. Her concentration had only begun to slip once again. It didn’t help that she could still faintly smell Azriel’s scent. Many of his clothes were still within her cottage, he hadn’t come to collect them yet. There were many times where Y/N had considered returning them to him herself but just the thought of returning the only things that held his scent made her heart sting. She also wanted to give him the space that he requested.

A knock sounded through the cottage and Y/N perked up. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks– she probably hadn’t even spoken aloud in weeks. She stood to her feet and walked the short distance from her office to the front door and opened it wide. The beaming face of Mor stood on the other side.

“Mor?” Y/N said, surprised to see her.

“Are you happy to see me?” she asked. “Because I am happy to see you. It’s been weeks since I have even heard from you.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “I’ve been busy with my work.”

Mor hummed, as if she didn’t believe it. Thankfully she didn’t call Y/N out on it. Mor held up a letter in her hand. “This came for you a few days ago. I thought Azriel would have delivered it to you but I haven’t seen him around either.”

Oh, Y/N thought. Mor didn’t know.

“I haven’t seen Azriel either,” Y/N said, her voice sad. “Our relationship ended, Mor.”

Surprise lit up Mor’s face. “You split up?”

Y/N nodded. “A few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Mor said, gesturing to Y/N to sit down. “How are you?”

“Honestly, I am finding it hard,” Y/N said. “Having someone beside you for years and then they are suddenly gone is certainly an adjustment. I still have some of his clothes here.”

“I can take them to him for you–”

“No,” Y/N cut her off. She cleared her throat. “No, it’s okay. I’ll send them to him soon.”

Mor nodded and handed Y/N the letter. “I’m unsure of who it is from as there was no name given.”

The writing on the letter was exquisite and beautiful and was a piece of artwork within itself. It was much better than the fast scrawl that filled Y/N’s notebooks.

“As much as I would love to stay here with you, Emerie and I planned our own trip to visit the Day Court,” Mor said.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, her eyes snapping up from the letter. “Enjoy yourselves.”

A small smile toyed at Mor’s lips. “We will, I’ll tell her you said hell0.”

A long hug and another goodbye, Mor was gone, leaving Y/N alone in her cottage once more.

***

The letter sat on the table unopened. A wax seal on the back of the letter clearly indicated who it was from. The wax was a near perfect match of the sender's eyes. Not that Y/N would recognise them immediately of course.

Why would Eris send me a letter? Y/N thought.

As she took the letter back in her hands, Y/N contemplated opening it. As much as she liked to believe the stories that depicted Eris as a terrible male, Y/N personally didn’t see it. They had only shared a dance and a few conversations together but for some reason she could see that careful constructed mask he hides behind. It had slipped just before he left her room the morning after his celebration. Somehow she believed that her whole family was wrong about him.

Y/N carefully broke the seal of the letter and took the parchment out. It faintly smelt of a crackling fire. Y/N couldn’t help but breathe it in. Once the letter was unfolded, it was written in the same delicate handwriting that was on the front. It was shorter than Y/N was expecting. She began to read.

—----

Dear Y/N,

I am currently on a tour around Prythian to work out trade deals and build stronger relationships between my court and others and hopefully fix all the hurt my father caused. I only have two stops to go before I finish this little task of mine; Night and Winter. Due to circumstances in the Winter Court, I would need to visit the Night Court first.

Now this is where my problem resides. The Night Court is your home and I do not wish to intrude. It is true that we have a mating bond between us and it is true that it connects our souls. Though I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable in your own home. If you truly feel uncomfortable with me being in your home court, I can conduct my business from my home in Autumn.

If you wish for me to stay in Autumn, don’t open this letter.

If you wish for me to come to Night, open this letter–

—----

Y/N stopped reading as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Though she couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past her lips. The nerve of him, Y/N thought. Though he did bring a genuine smile to her lips for the first time in weeks.

Truthfully, Y/N wouldn’t mind for him to come to the Night Court. If she did feel uncomfortable in his presence, she would simply stay away. Even with the mating bond’s desperate attempts to pull her closer. Saoise cast her eyes back down to the letter.

—----

It may be obvious to you now that I am indeed on my way to the Night Court, depending on when you read this, I might already be there now. But I am being serious when I say that if you truly are uncomfortable with me around, happily tell me and I will be gone before you even have the chance to blink.

I hope this letter finds you well.

Your mate

Kind regards,

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn

—----

The smile tugged at the corner of Y/N’s mouth and she consciously removed it. She folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope, tucking it away in the drawer under the table. There was a possibility that Eris was already in the Night Court. The thought made her chest contort, nerves itching. She shouldn’t feel nervous. Eris was her mate and she knew how to handle him, evident from the dance they shared.

Perhaps the reason Mor and Emerie were going to spend some time in the Day Court was because of Eris’s arrival. Why hadn’t anyone told her about it? Despite how Rhys might not think of her as part of his family, she was still a member of the Inner Circle whether he liked it or not. Her research was a large part of what kept the court running and kept people safe, even if Rhys deemed them not worth saving like the people in Hewn City. Y/N would go out of her way to warn him about possible dangers that target the area.

If Eris was meant to be arriving at the Night Court, she should have been informed of it. Perhaps he hadn’t arrived yet and that was the reason. Though deep down, Y/N already knew that both Rhys and Cassian would choose Azriel’s comfort over her. If Azriel didn’t want to be within a certain distance of her, Rhys and Cassian would do all they could to make it happen.

Y/N closed the drawer containing the letter from Eris and returned to her research, her mind becoming consumed.

***

A whole day had passed and Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the letter Eris had sent. By her estimations, he should have already been in the Night Court for at least No one had reached out to her. Even Eris, which Y/N hated to admit, disappointed her a little. The work she had been doing had been completed and Y/N had felt fidgety. For the majority of her work, she would assign herself jobs but Rhys did task her with conducting research for him. She had completed it all and had no motivation to do any of her own.

The hot mug in Y/N’s hand was placed upon the table as she walked over to the front door. Being trapped in the cottage where Azriel’s scent still lingered was not doing her any good.

Y/N swung the door open and a surprised Cassian stood just down the cobblestone pathway. A frown found its way onto Y/N’s face.

“What are you doing here, Cassian?” Y/N asked.

Cassian chuckled nervously. “So I don’t get a hug of greeting?”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “No I don’t believe you will. Why are you here?”

Cassian sighed. “Eris is meeting with Rhys and the rest of us to discuss some trade deals and to strengthen his alliance with us.”

“And Rhys is the one who assigned you to get me?” Y/N asked.

“No,” Cassian answered and Y/N’s heart sank. If it wasn’t clear by her last conversation with Rhys, it was evident now that he didn’t even view Y/N as part of his Inner Circle. “It was actually Azriel who demanded that you be there as part of the Inner Circle.”

Surprise filled Y/N’s eyes. “Azriel demanded it?”

“He threatened to not attend the meeting himself if you weren’t there,” Cassian explained.

Somehow that made Y/N feel worse.

***

The tension in the room was thick and it only amused Eris to his core. While everyone around him was alert, he casually lounged in his chair, waiting for the meeting to begin. He wasn’t told the reason for the delay but he had noticed that both of the Illyrian warriors were nowhere to be seen.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table with Fere by his side, a clear sense of who was actually in power. The smaller fae with short black hair, Eris hadn’t ever bothered to know her name, sat to his right, her piercing gaze never leaving him for a second.

It had only been a matter of hours since Eris had been welcomed into the Night Court and he had yet to leave this very room. If he were to be confined for the week he was meant to be staying, Eris was sure that he would go insane. Despite his dislike towards certain members of Rhysand’s Inner Circle and the Night Court itself, Eris did have to admit that what he had seen of Velaris had been rather beautiful.

The door to the room opened, cutting through the silence. The shadowsinger stepped inside, eyes full of carefully concealed rage. Eris watched his movements carefully as he slowly pulled out of the chair opposite him and took a seat, wings tucked tightly into his back, shadows restlessly moving over his shoulders. Just from the look of him, Eris could tell that he was finding it hard to keep his emotions in check. Perfect, Eris thought.

Two more figures entered the room soon after. The first was Cassian, probably the only member of the Inner Circle who Eris could have a semi-pleasant conversation with. Stepping in after him however was the person who made his chest ache deliciously.

That pull that Eris had tried his best to ignore the past few weeks was now pulled taunt as his eyes met Y/N’s. She was just as beautiful as she looked at his celebration. The only difference was the dark circles under her eyes. It was clear that she hadn’t been sleeping and Eris wanted to know the reason why. Perhaps he could do something to help her. But what if the reason she was losing sleep was because of him?

The stories the Inner Circle must have told her about him were certainly not pleasant. What if she was kept awake at night after finding out that she was mated to such a diabolical male. After all, that is what he wanted everyone to think when his father was alive. But knowing that Y/N most likely thought that way about him– that filled Eris with a sadness that was foreign to him.

The chair next to Eris was pulled out and Y/N slowly sat down and shuffled the chair back in, her hands folded in her lap.

“Now that everyone is here,” Rhysand began, his eyes lingering on Y/N for a brief moment and in that moment Eris fought the urge to reach across the table and connect his fist with his face. “I would firstly like to set some rules for this meeting.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Rules? Are these rules for me or for you brainless servants?” Eris said, gesturing to Azriel and Cassian. Eris’s gaze fixated on Azriel. The shadowsinger’s gaze was locked on Eris and it seemed as if that he had no intention of looking away. “And if I may be completely honest. All of you are terrible hosts, locking me in a room with surveillance for hours, no offer of a drink or food. When I had my meeting with Helion, we had already discussed what we needed to and were sharing a bottle of wine on the balcony.”

The smile that spread across Rhysands face was nothing short of malicious. “My apologies, Eris. Would you like a glass of my finest wine?”

“Absolutely not,” Eris replied, leaning back in his chair. “I wouldn’t put it past you to poison my glass.” Eris’s gaze slowly shifted to Y/N whose gaze was cast to the table. “Except Y/N here. Unlike all of you, she seemes to have her head actually screwed on.”

The shadows resting on Azriel’s shoulders moved around his body, seemingly readying to strike Eris at any moment– Eris simply ignored him. Y/N’s head lifted and looked at Eris and when their eyes locked once more, Eris couldn’t help the small twitch of the corner of his mouth. Y/N seemed to notice it as the corner of her mouth twitched too. The pull only became stronger.

Clearing his throat, Eris turned to face Azriel who still hadn’t looked away from him, a burning hatred resided in his eyes. Eris smirked. “Are you jealous, Azriel? That I can get a female to smile at me while you simply pine from afar, struggling to gain even the smallest bit of affection. It's quite sad really.”

The shadows that rested upon Azriel’s shoulders reached out to Eris and the fury in Azriel’s eyes grew. Eris knew that he had touched a nerve.

“Stop with the threatening look, Azriel. How do you ever wish to seduce anyone into your bed with an aura of murder surrounding you. No wonder you’ve been alone for centuries,” Eris said, casually crossing one leg over the other.

Shadows wrapped around Eris’s throat and most air was cut off. The feeling of the tightness around his throat made Eris immediately panic. Azriel loomed over Eris as everyone around them tried to stop what was occurring.

“Azriel,” Rhysand warned. “Stop this. You know what will happen if you harm him.”

“I don’t care,” Azriel growled.

“Az,” Cassian said, placing a hand on the shadowisnger’s shoulder. Azriel just shrugged it off. “You need to stop.”

“Stop this!” Feyre demanded, looking between Eris and Azriel.

“Azriel!” Y/N snapped. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

For the first time since he entered the room, Azriel looked away from Eris and to Y/N. The tightness around his throat faltered but there was still no way for Eris to escape. He clawed at his throat but his hands only clawed at his skin.

“Let him go now,” Y/N said, her voice dangerous.

The shaowingers eyes found Eris’s again and the shadows tightened as if it were instinctual, as if they were connected to his emotions. It was beginning to get harder and harder to breathe. Eris desperately tried to claw at his neck again but it only made him scratch his own skin more, this time drawing blood.

As he began to feel fainter and fainter, Eris couldn’t stop the rising panic within him. It was almost as if he could feel the ghost of his fathers hand wrapping around his neck. Eris scratched at his neck even more and drew more blood, desperate to breathe again. Black spots clouded his vision and all attempts from the Inner Circle to get Azriel to stop fell on deaf ears.

“Azriel, please stop,” Y/N pleaded and Eris felt gentle hands rest on his shoulder. It was the only thing that grounded him against visions of his father looking over him with his hand around his neck.

“Stop…” Eris begged Azriel.

Something within Azriel’s eyes seemed to snap him back to reality as the shadows recoiled from Eris as if he had burnt them. They rested on Azriel’s shoulders before shrinking away entirely. Stumbling back, Azriel blinked as Eris’s chest heaved up and down, slowly getting air back into his lungs.

“Azriel…” Y/N was the first to speak, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

“I-I’m sorry,” Azriel said before he swiftly left the room.

Eris continued to breathe heavily as Y/N’s hands remained on his shoulders. He wanted to shrink into her touch. Just feeling all eyes on him made him want to hide– he was too exposed, too vulnerable. Eris never wanted to feel that way again.

“Why don’t we finish this meeting tomorrow once everything has calmed down?” Feyre suggested, looking at the blood smeared on Eris’s neck.

“That would be a smart idea, Feyre darling,” Rhysand said. “Cassian, you can escort Eris to–”

“I will do it,” Y/N said firmly. “I don’t think he wants to be around any of you right now.”

Eris closed his eyes and allowed his body to slump against the chair as he tried to even out his breathing, nothing seemed to work.

“But–” Rhysand began.

“I will take him to his room,” Y/N said, sending a glare Rhysand’s way. “Do you have a problem with that, Rhys?”

Rhysand studied Y/N for a moment, his eyes lingering on where her hands were gently holding onto Eris’s shoulders. He slowly nodded. “Of course not, Y/N. Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere anacompanied.”

“I’m not a prisoner, Rhysand,” Eris said quietly.

There was no reply as the footsteps of the Inner Circle slowly grew quieter as they all left the room until only Y/N and Eris remained. Eris’s chest still heaved up and down as his breathing still hadn't returned to normal. Beron’s phantom hands were still wrapped around his throat.

“Let me clean that away,” Y/N said quietly, procuring a small cloth from thin air.

When his eyes met Y/N’s, they were filled with concern as she looked at his neck. Eris didn’t want to know what it looked like.

“I can clean it myself,” Eris mumbled, taking the rag from Y/N’s hands.

A simple nod was her response. The scratches on his neck were already beginning to heal as Eris wiped the blood away, the previously white cloth now crimson.

“Do you wish to return to your room?” Y/N asked.

Eris chuckled, no humour behind it. “I’d rather not be concealed in a small room right now.”

The two sat together alone in the room until Eris’s breathing had evened out. The phantom hand still remained but the panic within his body was washed away. Almost immediately, a switch flipped in Eris as he turned to Y/N. The facade he put on lit up his face once more.

“Well, why don’t you show me around Velaris? I’m sure someone as beautiful as you knows where the stunning sights are,” Eris suggested, a smirk toying at his lips.

Y/N frowned, immediately seeing through the facade. “Cut the bullshit, Eris. You can parade this fake attitude to everyone else but not me.” A gentler expression replaced her frown. “You…are my mate. You don’t need to hide your true self away from me.”

Slowly but surely, the smirk fell from Eris’s face. “Mate? That is the first time I have heard you admit that aloud.”

“We have only had one conversation since it snapped,” Y/N said, an amused tone filling her voice.

Eris huffed out a laugh, looking down at the blood stained cloth in his hand. “That is true. But it still feels…surreal that someone is telling me that I am their mate.”

Y/N sighed. “It is strange for me too. If a mating bond did snap for me, I thought it would be with…someone else.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “And that someone is?”

A saddened expression fell upon Y/N’s face and Eris immediately regretted asking. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I apologise for asking,” Eris said, throwing the bloodied cloth on the table.

“Don’t apologise,” Y/N said firmly.

Eris nodded and slouched back in the chair, all sense of formality disappearing from his posture. If it were anyone else but Y/N in his presence, Eris wouldn’t be caught dead slouching in his chair, but he felt…comfortable.

“Well, aren’t you going to take me to my prison– I mean room?” Eris said.

Y/N smiled. “The rooms might not be as grand as the rooms in the Autumn Court, but I assure you that your room isn’t a prison. It was my old room, actually.”

Eris suddenly perked up. “Your old room?”

Y/N nodded. “It was always the nicest room and now it is used as a guest room as Nesta demandes to make guests feel comfortable when they stay here. There have been a lot of…strange guests over the past few years. And I wasn’t going to take you there anyway. You said you didn’t want to be concealed in a small room so I’m taking you out to see Velaris.”

Surprise filled Eris’s body. “You are letting me leave?”

“Despite what Rhys tells you, Eris. You can go anywhere you want unsupervised. I trust you. If Rhys wants to shout at anyone about it, send him my way,” said Y/N, standing to her feet.

“Now come on,” Y/N said. “This beautiful female, as you like to put it, is going to show you some stunning sights.”

***

Despite the sun being high in the sky, it didn’t stop Y/N from shivering as they walked down the cobblestone streets. Some stopped and stared, clearly confused as to why the new High Lord of Autumn was walking through the streets of Velaris. Eris didn’t seem to care as he looked around, clearly taking in every small detail.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure what came over her when she suggested that she take Eris out in the city, all that she did know was that it had been instinctual to spend time with him. It wasn’t in her plans to get to know her mate, at least not so soon after her relationship with Azriel ended– but when Eris was clawing at his throat and Azriel loomed over him, she had the strong urge to protect him. There were still a few scratches that hadn’t healed yet from how deep Eris had scratched himself.

“You’ve been shivering for the past hour,” Eris commented as he stopped to look in a window of a shop.

“Unlike you, I don’t have fire coursing through my veins,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.

“If I had a jacket I would offer it to you,” Eris said, finally turning to her. He frowned once he noticed her thin dress for what seemed like the first time.

“It's okay,” Y/N said with a wave of her hand. “I can return to my cottage to get a jacket, it isn’t too far away if you don’t mind the walk.”

Eris shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

With a nod, Y/N led them down the street and away from the shops. “You can stay here if you wish, I’m unsure how long I will be.”

“It’s fine,” Eris said. “If I am being honest, I do wish to see more of this city– don’t tell Rhysand I said that.”

Y/N nodded. “Don’t worry, I am unsure if Rhys and I are on speaking terms currently.”

“I am not prying you for an answer but if you would like to tell me, I am awaiting your answer eagerly– unfortunately for you, I do enjoy some gossip,” Eris replied.

Y/N huffed a laugh. “Unfortunately for you, I will not be telling you. You may be my mate, Eris, but sharing personal conversations is not on the table yet.”

“Yet,” Eris smirked.

“Sorry?” Y/N questioned.

“You said ‘yet’,” Eris remarked. “So that means that one day you will tell me.”

“I–shut up,” Y/N said, pulling her arms closer to herself as a chill ran down her spine.

A low chuckle emitted from Eris that sent pleasant shivers down Y/N’s spine. “My, my, just when we were getting along too.”

“Who said that we were getting along?” Y/N questioned, raising a brow.

“Well, you haven’t threatened to harm or kill me yet, so I am taking our brief relationship thus far as a successful one,” Eris remarked.

The two continued walking for a while longer in silence. Though it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like Y/N expected, she was perfectly at ease. Eris seemed to be keen on taking in his surroundings as they walked down the cobblestone street. Y/N nearly slipped a few times when her attention fixated on Eris for a moment too long so she missed where the stone was raised higher than the others, thus causing her to trip. Whenever she did, Eris huffed out a small laugh.

“May I ask you a question?” Y/N questioned suddenly after a long silence. The question she wanted to ask was burned onto her tongue.

“Depends what the question is,” Eris answered with a raised eyebrow.

“That letter you sent me,” Saoirs began and Eris laughed. “Why didn’t you give me a choice if you were going to come here regardless.”

“Oh Y/N,” Eris said, her name flowing from his lips like a beautiful poem. “You are mistaken, I did give you a choice.”

Y/N laughed. “A choice? You said in your letter that if I was comfortable with you coming to my home, I should open the letter– how would I even know what the letter contained or who the letter was from if I didn’t open it?”

Eris glanced at her. “You knew who the letter was from as soon as you picked it up, didn’t you?”

“I might not have,” Y/N defended, folding her arms across her chest.

“But you did,” Eris said. “And despite how little time we have spent together, I knew that you would have never opened that letter if you were uncomfortable with me. Am I correct?”

“No,” Y/N said, sending a small glare his way. She hated how correct he was.

“Liar,” Eris whispered.

Their faces were close as Y/N cleared her throat and turned away. “My cottage is just up this street.”

Seemingly snapping back into reality, Eris took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back. “You said that this walk wasn’t too far. You live quite far from the city.”

Y/N shrugged. “It’s a short walk for me. It helps me focus more on my work. When I used to live in the House of Wind with everyone, I could hardly focus on my work as I was interrupted almost every time I tried to get anything done.”

Despite the fact that her home had been her sanctuary for many years, always full of life and love– it now held an aura of sadness around it. Even though Y/N had lived in her cottage years before she and Azriel made their bargain, it was the place where they had started building their life together. Residing all over the cottage and land surrounding it held small reminders of the shadowsinger. His chair for instance, which allowed him to sit comfortably with his wings. The bed which Y/N had surprised him with once when she had noticed how much he had ached whenever he slept in her previous bed. The decorations Azriel had bought for her whenever he had business elsewhere.

Y/N unlocked the door and stepped inside, Eris followed after. The room was cold, it had been ever since Azriel had left. But with Eris standing next to her there was a flicker of warmth that spread through the air.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Y/N muttered, stepping away from Eris.

There was no reply from Eris, or if he did reply, Y/N didn’t hear as she made her way to her bedroom. Only one side of the bed was slept in and the other was still perfectly made, she hadn’t wanted to move anything just yet, not while the scent of Azriel still lingered. Moving onto her wardrobe, Y/N pulled out a thick coat, trying her best to ignore Azriel’s hung up just beside hers. She needed to return it to him– just not yet.

When she exited her bedroom, Y/N found Eris looking over the various decor pieces. She cleared her throat to announce her presence. It felt strange bringing Eris to her cottage, perhaps she should have left him in the city while she came back here alone. Despite the terms of their bargain, it felt wrong to bring Eris into the place where she had just begun to build a life with Azriel. Yet– the High Lord fit in well with her decor.

“I’m ready to leave now,” Y/N said.

“May I ask you a question now?” Eris said suddenly.

“Depends what it is,” she answered, putting on her coat.

“I don’t mean to pry while asking this question, but do you live with someone else in this cottage– the spymaster more specifically? His scent is blocking all my other senses,” Eris said, clasping his hands behind his back.

The question wasn’t one Y/N was prepared for, of course she planned to tell Eris at some point but not so soon. But Eris was very perceptive and would know that she was lying if she denied his statement. With a sigh, Y/N nodded. “Yes he lived here with me– four years to be exact.”

“So at my celebration, the two of you were…together?” Eris questions.

“We were, yes,” said Y/N honestly.

“Ah, so that is why he was glaring at me for the entire length of the dance we shared,” Eris said. “But I cannot help but notice you are speaking in past tense about your relationship.”

“We are not together anymore,” Y/N said, the statement sending a pain through her heart. “That ended the night of your celebration.”

A guilty look washed over Eris’s face. “That wasn’t because of me, was it? Even though I do not like the shadowsinger, I do not wish to harm you in any way.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his sweet words but Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile. “The only reason why you are involved is because the mating bond snapped between us. Even if it snapped between me and anyone else that night, our relationship would have ended the same way at the same time.”

“You do not need to tell me if you don’t want to, Y/N,” Eris said earnestly. “I might act like a gossip, but most of the time, I do prefer staying far away from it.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said. “I would have eventually needed to tell you at some point. Four years ago, Azriel and I made a bargain. We were both so sick of being alone, everyone around us was happily mated and were starting families or already had one. At the time we thought it was an incredible idea. We would form a relationship with each other but if one of us were to ever find our mate, we would walk away from one another and our relationship would end. Realistically, we both never thought we would find our mates. We are both over five-hundred years old, if a bond would have snapped with anyone, then it would have snapped by then.”

“We lived together for four years, were steadily building a life together until–”

“Our bond snapped,” Eris finished.

“Correct,” Y/N said. “That night when I told him, I was in so much pain because I tried to fight the terms of the bargain. I begged him to stay with me but we both knew that we couldn’t continue our relationship because sooner or later the bargain would have killed me. Azriel left me in that room the night and never came back. The meeting earlier was the first time I had seen him since.”

“That morning when I came to speak to you and you were upset,” said Eris, taking a hesitant step forward. “It was because of the bargain.”

Y/N nodded. “I didn’t mean to be snappy with you, I couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t mean to provoke you that morning, if I did, I apologise,” Eris said before proceeding to let out a breathless chuckle. “It’s funny, that morning I wanted to see if you were okay and I was pacing outside of your room for nearly an hour trying to gain the courage to knock. I didn’t want to seem invasive.”

Saoise’s face clouded over in surprise. “You needed to pluck up the courage to do something? Colour me shocked.”

With a shake of his head, Eris laughed and the sound was beautiful. “Don't get too used to it, Y/N, I never back down from a challenge.”

“Except when it consists of asking someone if they are okay?” Y/N asked.

“It was only because it was you– my mate– if it were any other member of your so-called ‘Inner Circle’, I don’t think I could have cared less,” Eris replied before his eyes suddenly turned serious. “There is still a lot that you don’t know about me, Y/N– and there is still a lot that I don’t know about you. I am not the monster that Rhysand and his lapdogs have made me out to be.”

Y/N took an unconscious step forward. “Believe it or not, Eris, I can already tell that you are not the male I have heard stories about.”

At that statement, Eris’s face lit up and he seemed relieved. “If you are open to it, Y/N, would you mind getting to know one another? I know that we eventually need to address the glaring topic of our mating bond– but right now, I am asking as a friend. Because believe it or not– I don’t have many of those.”

Despite Y/N’s previous feelings about the guilt trailing down her spine at Eris standing in the home she had made with Azriel, she now thought he fit in perfectly with her belongings– even the ones Azriel had picked out.

A bright smile stretched across Y/N’s face. “I would love that, Eris.”

Eris dipped his head in a nod. “I am glad to hear that, Y/N.”

As their conversation had progressed, Y/N now found herself standing barely an arms length away from Eris, it was as if the taunt bond between them had slowly pulled them closer. Slowly, she linked her arm with Eris’s, the warmth of his body seeping through her coat.

“Now, there is a small tavern that I like just down the street from my cottage,” Y/N said as she led Eris to the front door. “If we are getting to know one another, we might as well do it over a few friendly drinks.”

As the door to her cottage shut behind them, Y/N couldn’t help the small weight lifted from her shoulders. Walking with Eris by her side eased her in a way she couldn’t describe.

Though perhaps it was because of the faint scent of cedar mixing with a cracking fire.

Taglist:

@22hilda @lazypostfandomer @inkedinshadows @awkardnerd @azysmate @therealmoonstone @lets-talk-about-xyz @starryevermore @babypeapoddd @tothestarsandwhateverend @batboyrhyrhy @callsigns-haze @wildflowermooon @wildfloweroutlaw @acourtofbatboydreams @bookandtealover @queenoffeysand @the-sweet-psycho @the-starlight-way @curiosandcourioser @cheekym8s @honk4emoboyz @paleidiot @buckystevelove @that-girl-reading @readinggeeklmao @hextech-bros @scarsandallaz @paige0103 @k8r123-blog @asweetblueberry2 @bloodicka @eddsthemunson @fourthwing4ever @crypticme @that-one-bibliophole @lilah-asteria @sassybluebird @ninthcircleofprythian @imma-too-many-fandoms @happyt0exist @spiritualmooshroom @phoenix666stuff @imagoddessinmystories @sveretrice @stormieandateacup @impossibelle @opium-den @pit-and-the-pen @julesvanslutta @circe143

#acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris x reader #azriel x eris #azriel x eris vanserra

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owlcomics101 · 8 months ago

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“Dog trouble.” task force 141 x fox hybrid!Reader

Warnings: bit of blood, animal violence, mentions of animal abuse/hunting (I do NOT condone), SFW (I am a minor), wholesome fox cuddles, reader is an Arctic fox hybrid

Please read the head cannons first

You are an arctic fox hybrid. You have the fluffy fox ears, tail, feet paws, and fangs. Gaz was taking you on your morning walk when the two of you walked by some military dogs who gave you the stink eye. Usually military dogs would never attack unless instructed by their handler otherwise, but these weren’t the properly trained and experienced military dogs. They were new and haven’t even seen the field of battle yet. Of course when they saw you strutting in front of Gaz with your tail up and proud as Gaz couldn’t help but snicker. The dog’s instincts kicked in. “Bullet no!-“ The handler whistles for one of the dogs to sit still but bullet wouldn’t listen. The dog had its eyes and soon its fangs on you. Bullet immediately sprinted towards you. The handler tried grabbing a hold of the dog, but Bullet was too fast for his handler to grab a hold of his harness. Instinctively Gaz grabbed and picked you up immediately and out of reach of the blood thirsty canine. “Get your god Damm dog here!” Gaz shouted. Bullet jumped on Gaz, trying to bite your tail but instead bit Gaz’s wrist, causing him to drop you. You fall to the ground with a thud as bullet jumps off of Gaz and chases after you.

“Shit-Y/N!” Gaz scrambles to his feet. Your ears perk up at the dog’s footsteps and you snarled. Your tail and ears puffing up to try and make yourself look big and intimidating to the mutt but Bullet could smell your fear. You never thought in a million years you would ever have to worry about a snot-nose dog in your face trying to hunt you down like back in the tundra. Your mind could not forget all the pain and trauma those dogs brought you. You have the bite marks and scratches to remember each hit well. These dogs could never compare to the real predators you would face like wolves. At least wolves were only hunting you for food and survival, these domesticated mutts were only hunting you for their master’s approval. Bullet lunged at you as you quickly slipped away, running down the block with the mutt right at your tail. Soap was just leaving the mess hall when he saw you outside being chased.

“God pumpin' dammit! Y/N!” Soap bolted out from the mess hall and after you and bullet. He wasn’t going to let the mutt lay a single fang on you, not if he had anything to say about it. Gaz was running after you as well. Clutching his bleeding arm from Bullet’s bite to stop the bleeding. Soap looked over to Gaz and quickly stopped him.

“Go get some help Gaz! I'll handle this!" Gaz was hesitant on leaving you. It was his fault, at least he think it’s his fault. He should’ve known the dogs would be out at this time. He should’ve taken you out earlier or maybe skipped the walk all together.

“No Soap-“ Gaz tried to protest but Soap was already gone along with you and Bullet around the corner. You kept running and slipping under passing soldiers left to right as bullet chased you. Soap swearing and shoving everyone out of his way to reach to you. Soap shoved past Ghost who was walking by. Ghost’s brows furrowed as he was shoved.

“Johny what the bloody hell!?” Ghost snapped as he grabbed Soap’s wrist tightly, the day has just begun and Soap was already on his nerves. Soap quickly tried to jerk away from Ghost in a panic.

“Let go! It’s Y/N-Their-“ Soap was cut off by a shriek and it wasn’t Bullet. Soap’s skin went pale when he heard it again. Ghost’s eyes widen as his breath hitched in his throat. You were shrieking and snapping as Bullet bit onto your leg and shook you around like some kind of messed up chew toy. You tried thrashing and biting your way out of the dog’s grasp but bullet wasn’t budging—its jaws clamped shut around your ankle like a bear trap. You could feel the fangs digging into your flesh and tissue, blood seeping and dripping out like a stream as it filled the dog’s mouth. All the blood and struggling around just made the dog tighten its grip and bit into you more. You felt like you were trapped in the snare again, dangling and running around in circles as the noose grew tight. Soap saved you then but where was he now? Just then the dog let out a yelp and let go of you as it was shoved to the ground by Ghost. Soap immediately scooped you up in his arms.

“I’m here, I’m here! I got you.” Soap reassured you as he held you close to his chest. Stroking your back and giving you kissing on the forehead. You couldn’t help but watch Ghost deal with the dog. Ghost grabbed bullet by the harness and held him back for the handler to go get their Damm dog back. Ghost saved you..

“What’s going on out here!?” Price snaps, Gaz following behind him with his wrist bandaged up and stained with blood. Price looked down at the dog and over to you, trembling in soap’s arms as blood trickles down your ankle and foot. To say Price was pissed, would be an understatement. He was livid! He walked over to you and inspected your leg. Soap still stroking your back and head to calm you down.

“Take them to the infirmary and get them looked after. After that I want them safe back in MY office!” Price ordered Soap as he quickly nodded and took you away. You look over Soap’s shoulder to see Price shouting at the handler along with Gaz, but Ghost…Ghost looked over to you. Watching Soap take you away to get cleaned and bandaged up. Maybe Ghost wasn’t so bad after all?

writer’s note: Maybe part 2? We’ll see how this does ^^

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #captain john price #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #captain price x reader #cod x reader #cod x y/n

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cookiescribble · 3 months ago

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Flufftober Day 7: Hoodie Weather

A/N: mod ghost made the joke about him writing for a comic book character yesterday, but for me it’s actually a “who would’ve guessed” moment 😆 but I’ve been wanting to write for Jason for a while and now I finally got around to it. hope you enjoy! -mod angel

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Summary: The nights have gotten cold in Gotham, and you haven’t been dressing accordingly. Lucky for you, a good friend (who you are a bit infatuated with) is able to help you.

~~~

It had become routine to meet Jason on the roof of his apartment building after he gets back from patrol.

The day he went AWOL when he encountered some of Joker’s henchmen and had a really bad panic attack, you had gotten a worried call from Dick, who was frantically asking if you’d seen him. When you finally found him, he was on the roof, curled up and breathing heavily. You had helped him calm down, and that’s when you decided to make sure he had someone to check in with him every day.

Now, you opened the door after making your way up the stairs, when you spotted the back of his hoodie. You walked over to him, trying to pretend you weren’t winded from walking up all those stairs as you plopped yourself down next to him.

He turned to you, noticing you were breathing heavily, smirking as he tried not to laugh. “There aren’t that many stairs in this building.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath now that he already noticed your heavy breathing. “I’ve never had physical training like you. Most people don’t do daily combat training as children, you know.”

He let out a warm laugh, crossing his legs and running a hand through his hair, which was getting a little messed up from the wind that was blowing. “Yeah, sometimes I forget having a whole family that’s trained to fight from the moment they’re taken in isn’t normal.”

“Your experiences are not universal,” you replied, laughing. It was natural to fall into casual banter; you both had a tendency towards snarkiness, so it just worked.

You hugged your knees to your chest as the wind picked up a little more, trying unsuccessfully to stop yourself from shivering. It was just turning fall in Gotham, and the weather was really starting to cool down, especially at night.

Jason looked at you, noticing your trembling, and he frowned slightly. “Are you cold?”

You were moving your body around a little as you sat there, trying to warm it up. “You’re not?” you laughed, which came out a little shaky since you were still moving.

He shook his head. “Nope. Perfectly warm over here.” He reached out his hand to touch your arm and show you. A warmth enveloped you where his hand landed, a slight blush creeping across your face as you felt his firm but gentle grip.

“Damn,” he muttered, pulling his hand away after it lingered on your arm for a few seconds. “You’re freezing. Why didn’t you wear a sweater? Or like, long sleeves?”

You rolled your eyes, hugging yourself to warm up your arms, feeling especially cold after he took the warmth of his hand away. “It was warm earlier today. I didn’t know it was going to be this cold when I left home.”

He paused for a moment, looking like he was considering something. “I have a hoodie you could wear, to warm you up.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I sure hope you’re not offering the one you’re wearing,” you pointed to the sleeveless hoodie that only covered his shoulders. “Because that would not warm me up at all.”

He rolled his eyes, letting out a noise that was halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “No, I have normal hoodies in my apartment. You could come down and put one of them on.” He sounded nonchalant, but you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush on his face.

You had never actually been in his apartment, usually meeting up on the roof for a long time until it got so late you just went home. Any other time you saw him was usually out somewhere, or at your own apartment.

To try to stop the flustered feeling you got at his suggestion, you decided to joke a bit. “I thought you didn’t like people going in your apartment? I’ve heard you complain about it quite a bit.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t mind people in my apartment, I mind my brothers breaking into my apartment.” He’d told you about how often he would just find one of his brothers in his apartment, even though he hadn’t been there all day, and none of them had a key that he was aware of.

You were starting to get goosebumps from the cold now, so you really couldn’t refuse his offer. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, if you really don’t mind,” you muttered, your teeth chattering slightly.

“Not at all,” he shook his head as he stood, reaching a hand out to help you up. “C’mon, or someone will think you’re a Freeze victim.”

You laughed, taking his hand as he effortlessly pulled you up, almost lifting you right off of your feet. Sometimes you forgot just how strong he was.

“God, how have you been staying up here the whole time? Your hands are so cold,” he murmured, keeping his hold on your hand to try to warm it up.

“I don’t know,” you scoffed playfully. “Someone wouldn’t stop talking.”

“Yeah, you,” he replied, pulling you along until you reached the door, which he held open for you. “Now get inside.”

You held up your other hand. “Okay, okay, no need to be so bossy.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you walked through the door.

He led you down a few flights of stairs, and then down the hallway until he stopped in front of one of the doors, letting go of your hand so he could pull out his keys to unlock it. After it was open, he gestured for you to go inside. “After you,” he bowed slightly, grinning at the dramatic gesture.

You stepped into the apartment, looking around as you took in your surroundings. His apartment was kept pretty neat and organized. You wondered how he had time to keep everything clean, considering how often he spent doing his “other activities.” You weren’t surprised at how many books there were on his shelf; he had probably read all of them already. Especially the Austen novels.

Jason was shutting and locking the door behind you when you said, half sarcastically, “wow, nice place you got here.”

He shrugged, moving immediately to his dresser and rifling through it. “It’s not much compared to the mansion, but it’s a place I can go to just be alone. Most of the time.” He finally pulled out a hoodie and held it out to you.

You took it from him, looking at it before putting it on. It was red, and you wondered if he even owned any hoodies that weren’t red. A little on the nose, you wanted to say, but you kept that to yourself since he was being so generous.

His hoodie was really big on you; it almost went down to your knees, and the sleeves were practically twice as long as your arms. But you didn’t mind, it was really comfortable.

“You’re still shivering,” he frowned, his arms crossed.

“I literally just put it on,” you shrugged. “It’ll take a bit before I actually fully warm up.”

He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was trying to stop himself from doing something. After a few moments, he pulled you into a tight hug, knowing it’ll warm you up faster.

You practically melted into the warm embrace, your hands instinctively moving to hug him back. He felt like a personal space heater, and you couldn’t help but to bury your face in his chest. You felt… protected. Your heart felt just as warm as your body now felt.

You stood there for a few minutes in silence, just feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his strong arms holding you for what felt like a very long time. You felt like you could stay there forever.

“Warmer now?” He asked softly, breaking the silence. “You stopped shaking.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, being brought out of your thoughts. “This is really helping.”

“Do you want me to… stop?” He asked hesitantly.

“No,” you said, too quickly. “Um. I just…” You blushed, grateful he couldn’t see your face. “This… feels really… comforting,” you mumbled, despite feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah,” he whispered in agreement, burying his face in your hair. His hand started to rub soothing circles on your back, which made you close your eyes, almost as if you could fall asleep right there, standing up in his arms.

“It’s really late,” he said after a few more moments of silence. “Do you maybe just wanna… stay here tonight?” His voice was soft and soothing as he pulled away slightly to look at you, his arms still around you. He looked… a bit shy. “I mean, I know how dangerous it is to walk the streets of Gotham at night.”

“That’s true…” you replied, trying to hide your blush.

“And what kind of ‘hero’ would I be if I let someone walk right into danger?” He joked, putting air quotes around “hero.” “Bruce would be pissed at me if something happened to you because I left you alone in a dark alley.”

“Dark alley?” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Where do you think I live? I’m only a few streets down that way,” you gestured in the direction of your apartment with your head.

“With the crime rate in this city, every street may as well be a dark alley,” he scoffed, his expression softening as he looked at you. “It would just… bring me some peace of mind to know that you’re safe here.” His voice sounded casual, but his eyes showed he was practically pleading with you.

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you worry,” you teased lightly. “Plus I really don’t feel like walking in this cold.”

“Cool,” he nodded, finally letting you go. You tried not to pout instinctively as he walked away from you to start setting up his bed. “I can just sleep on the floor for tonight,” he added over his shoulder.

When he was done, you tentatively sat on his bed, looking up at him, trying to find the courage to say what you wanted to. You took a deep breath, looking up at him as he loomed over you. “I… it would make me feel better if you were next to me,” you admitted softly.

He froze for a moment before nodding slowly. “I… okay. I’ll just… be back in a second,” he mumbled, taking a few steps back as he grabbed something off his dresser and headed to the bathroom.

You curled up under the covers, your heart pounding in your chest. You were still wearing his hoodie, and you practically retreated into it.

You heard him come back, feeling the bed move when he sat at the edge. You looked up at him, now in his pajamas. You’d never seen him look so casual. He looked… cozy.

He lay on his back next to you, keeping a bit of space between you. He took a deep breath, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

You turned on your side to look at him, your voice quiet and soft, thinking of an excuse to get closer. “I… I’m still pretty cold…” you mumbled, knowing it didn’t sound convincing at all.

“That’s a lie,” he rolled his eyes, but he smiled warmly at you, opening his arms silently.

You shuffled so you were laying in his arms, resting your head on his chest. You felt his arms close around you, feeling that warmth that was starting to become familiar to you.

“Better?” He asked, ruffling your hair playfully.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Better,” you affirmed, closing your eyes.

You slept better that night than any other night in your entire life.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #batman #batfam #batfamily #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood #red hood fanfiction #flufftober2024 #flufftober #mod angel

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messylustt · 2 years ago

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obsessed ( believe me ) — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : scream after ethan revealed himself as ghostface to you, you try to tell the group, hoping they’ll believe you…but ethan has other plans.

contents : surprisingly nothing sexual. a kiss. this is mainly the repercussions + plot after ethan’s reveal. wc 2.1k.

pt one pt two pt three

you had locked your door tight every night whenever you’d be home. you couldn’t let a ghostface get in, you couldn’t let…ethan get in. god, the concept that he’s a killer now confuses and scares you at the same time. if ethan can kill then christ, everyone should be wary of everyone.

you aggressively mix the cupcake batter. you had grown guilty and…well…confused. you hadn’t told the group. though you haven’t had the time—you haven’t seen them since the party. so, it’s not entirely your fault. you need to tell them. they could die if you don’t.

with a final whisk you begin to pour the batter into the cupcake tins. there’s no harm in giving them something tasty as you drop the charming bomb. You place the tin in the oven, already preheated. clicking the timer you pause. what if they don’t believe you?

the carpenter sisters and martin-meeks twins have known you the same length as they have ethan. shit, you should have gotten proof, something that would show your not just pointing the finger. you rest against the counter, watching as the cupcakes begin to bake.

you can feel your heart pick a pace at the thought of ethans words. he kissed you, he wanted to kiss you. what were you thinking letting him? no, you think to yourself. you didn’t have a choice…but it’s not like you absolutely hated the idea. shit.

what if you saw ethan in class? how the fuck should you act? you run your hands down your face, growing agitated and fidgety.

;;

“y/n!” mindy called from across campus. your carrying a box full of your cupcakes, as you take a heavy breath. it’s okay.

you wander over to her, smiling, only to falter when you see chad and ethan reach her side too.

you catch ethan’s gaze and freeze. ethan tilts his head, acting like an innocent shit. you gulp as you notice a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“mindy, can I talk to you for a moment?” if anyone’s gonna believe you about ethan, it’s mindy. she already thinks ghostface is him.

“uh, sure. is it real private?” she seems confused, since this group barely kept anything from each other. you clutch your cupcake box a little tighter, and that’s when chad notices.

“hey! are those cupcakes?”

you smile, offering them to him. “yo, thanks y/n.” he opens the box as you turn back to mindy.

“it’s girls sorta stuff.”

“oh.” she smiles, grabbing your elbow. “we’ll catch up with you later!” she calls back to ethan and chad, as she brings you farther away.

as you stop by a tree, you can't help but glance back at the two boys. chad is stuffing one of your cupcakes in his mouth. you hate the shiver that racks your spine, as you watch ethan take a bite, keeping his gaze on you. he tilts his head down in thanks, and you can spot the mischievous glint in his eyes. he knew they were bribe cupcakes for your point on him being the killer, to make it sound more appealing. but he only finishes the cupcake with a hum.

you whip your gaze to mindy, your expression desperate. “mindy, you know how you're always saying that ethan is ghostface?”

mindy scowls, glancing at him. “yeah, i swear it's him.” She narrows her eyes, before shifting her gaze back to you. “why—do you think the same?”

“i don't think, i know.” you stare at her earnestly. “i saw him. he attacked at my apartment. there was this other ghostface there, who tried to first, and then…” you weren’t going to mention that Ethan kissed you. it was irrelevant. “then he took off his mask.”

mindy is staring at you as your words spill out in a rush. “wait, you're saying ethan attacked you in your apartment, and then revealed himself?” she hisses.

“well, no, he didn’t attack me. he attacked the other ghostface—”

“wait, what?!”

you shush her, glancing around. ethan and chad weren’t there anymore and you were relieved.

mindy stares at you. “why would he attack the other ghostface?”

“i don’t know!” you exasperate.

mindy spins in surprise. “what the fuck?!”

you grab her arm. “but you believe me, right?”

“i believe ethan could be ghostface, but…attacking his fellow ghostie, and then what— revealing himself to you?” she sighs. “it's a little hard to make that make sense.”

“i know, i know. but i swear. that’s what happened.” you're growing desperate, especially as you see hesitance flash across mindy’s face.

“mindy, i wouldn’t make this up.”

she sighs. “but if ethan—as ghostface—went to your apartment not to hurt you, then why was he there?”

you pause. he couldn’t have just been there to…kiss you, right? that doesn’t make sense. you go to explain more about him attacking the other ghostface when you stay silent. ethan saved you from getting killed. would Mindy interpret that as you being on the same side. no. if you’d tell her that, then she’d know you weren’t one of them.

“y/n?”

you meet mindy’s gaze, as her eyes have grown wary. you shake your head. “i don't know why ethan was at my apartment dressed as ghostface. all I know is that he is one of them.”

“i– look i want to believe you, y/n. i like you! but it's just—” she cuts herself off, breathing. “you could be lying because your…ghostface.”

your shoulders slump. this is what you were scared might happen. “mindy, i swear.” you go to grab her arm, but she steps back.

“ethan is still on the top of my list, but…let me just think.” rhen she leaves.

shit. this was supposed to go so much better.

“you should have given her the cupcakes.”

you jump, and whip around to see ethan standing with an almost smug expression. you gulp, stepping to the side. “get out of my way.”

ethan just chuckles. “didn’t work?”

your silence makes him grin. “she already thinks i’m Ghostface, but like you, has no real evidence.”

“i–” you cut yourself off, because he’s right. you have nothing on him. and it turns out your word isn’t enough. “just leave me alone.”

“so cold.” he comments. “we’re in the same lesson.”

your whole body is tense. “come on.” ethan turns, heading to the large building of blackmore.

you both make it to the hallway, bustling with students heading to their respective classes. you stay a decent way behind ethan. you will not be seen with him. that would only contradict everything you said to mindy.

then just as you're about to squeeze past the students to get inside the lecture hall, a hand tightens around your wrist, yanking you to the right. you gasp as you get dragged into a small broom cupboard.

“ethan, what the fuck?” you spin to face him. he stands his back to the now shut door of the cupboard, trapping you in.

“i was kinda hoping you wouldn’t go and be a tattle tale.” he steps closer and you immediately step back, your hand out in warning. “but your cupcakes were very good, so, i guess that’s a plus.”

“ethan. let me out.” you were growing worried, the hairs on the back of your neck spiked.

“and i know i said i’ll leave you alone and all. but, wouldn’t it seem strange if we ignore each other.”

“if you wanna act normal in front of them—fine.” you were scared, and ethan could tell. “but there's no reason for us to see each other alone.” you gesture around the closet.

“that kinda hurts, y/n.” ethan says. “i mean i’m not too much of a fan of PDA, but if you're into that, I’ll settle.”

“what?”

ethan steps closer, and your grip finds a broom. “i like kissing you. and if you don't want to do it alone, then we can do it in front of our friends.”

you gulp, holding your pathetic excuse of a weapon out in front of you. “i’ll keep your secret, they don’t believe me anyway. so, please. there’s no need to kill me.”

“kill you? gave you listened to a word i've said?” wthan brushes his hand across the brustels of the broom. “i’d rather kiss you then, then kill you.” he steps closer. “and the broom’s cute.” he’s trying not to laugh.

“ethan, seriously.”

“i’m being dead serious, y/n.” he says, tapping down the broom as you shake his fingers off. then he backs away. “i’ll see you in class.” then he’s out of the closet, leaving you standing there, breathing hard and even more confused.

;;

you’re standing, talking to tara, as you wait for the rest of the group to be done with classes. mindy and chad come out first. slowly followed by ethan. you stay close to chad, as he tells you about this dick in his lesson.

ethan notices your “subtle” move to be “safe”. chad couldn’t protect you. and not from getting hurt, ethan’s already been clear that that's the last thing he wants to happen. just from him in general. he likes you. he thought it was obvious, but he guesses you're still reeling from him being ghostface.

you all talk and walk, until you’ve reached the carpenter sister’s apartment. ethan then digs in his pocket to retrieve a ring he stole from you in the closet. tara, Sam, and quinn are heading to their apartment.

“uh, y/n?” ethan calls to you, making you glance behind your shoulder. “i have something of yours.” he holds up the ring, as you hesitantly step closer, your hand out. you think you must have dropped it on your walk.

but ethan strides over, passing your hand and grabbing your chin. before you can say a word ethan is pressing his lips to yours, you stumble slightly back, along the gravel. chad is watching, mouth hanging open. “holy shit,” you catch tara say, as ethan pulls back, with a grin.

you're staring at him agape, as you hear a few hollers from chad. if only he knew. ethan then whispers in your ear. “i’ll call you.”

;;

you're staring at your phone in your apartment, scared for it to ring. and when it does, you hesitate grabbing it.

when you do, you take a reassessing breath. you had to end whatever this was. “hello, y/n.”

ethan’s using the ghostface modulator. prick. “ethan, you don’t have to use that. i know it's you.”

“and where’s the fun in that?” the deep voice breathes a chuckle.

“stop playing games, ethan. stop all of this. i’m not interested.”

“in me?” he inquired.

you hate the fact that you falter. you shouldn’t be fucking faltering! “yes.”

“you're a very unconvincing liar.” ghostface speaks mockingly.

“and you can’t take a hint.”

“tell me y/n,” ghostface speaks, as you pace your living room. “what's your favourite scary movie?” he jokes.

you scoff. “i said no more games ethan.”

“just one.” ghostface half begs. “i promise.”

“you gonna make me another deal?”

“i can.” ghostface shuffles on the other end. “if you play this game with me and win…i’ll reveal myself to our friends.”

you pause your pacing. “what?”

“doesn’t that sound fair?” ghostface probes.

you gulp. would he really? you wouldn’t look like a fool to mindy, and worse a betraying ghostface. you lick your lips. “what’s the game?”

“that’s my girl.” ghostface praises breathlessly. you stand a little straighter, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.

“we’re going to play a simple simon says.” ghostface breathes through the phone.

“simon says?” you repeat.

“mhm.” ghostface hums.

you run your hand through your hair, gathering your thoughts, and a seeable decision. fuck it. all you had to win was simon says. easy. “deal.”

you can almost hear the grin forming on ghostface—ethan’s—face. “let’s get started, then.”

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry x reader #ethan x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream smut #scream #jack champion x y/n

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married-to-google-translater · 4 months ago

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Request: Riddle, Jamil, and Malleus with a reader who came to nrc with a dog? Like maybe a husky? But the husky is very talkative so it’s always “speaking” and wooing and if you act like you’re talking to it it continues to talk and their reactions to it? I just think introducing NRC students to dog breeds they probably haven’t seen in person is funny. “Wanna see my precious good baby boy?” Cue coming out with a HUGE Great Dane.

@soleilscb happy birthday 🎈🎂

Malleus is here

Riddle is here

Jamil Viper

Jamil had never seen a Husky before. They wouldn't live in his immediate circle. He probably wouldn't be terribly interested. Jamil wouldn't hate your dog, but it would have too much energy for his taste.

It reminds him of Kalim. You may even occasionally hear Jamil call your dog Kalim.jr. At first you find it cute thinking they are good friends. Then the Overblot incident happens -_-

In terms of the continuation of Jamil's life, it would be desirable that he did NOT mean the nickname in an offensive way.

After the Overblot incident, you and Jamil become close. Because of this, he would also spend more time with your dog.

Jamil would be a great cook. If you asked, he could cook food for your dog as well. But only if you asked him to.

Jamil would enjoy the walks you take together. They would be relaxing and he would get more time with you.

A couple of times your dog has almost given him a heart attack. It would have started "talking" loudly in the middle of the night. Those moments would always be surprising. .

What Jamil does in the apartment in the middle of the night is up to your imagination....

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boringbones · 2 months ago

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A Letter to Talented Creators

I've been part of this community for 20 years, watching artists rise, fall, leave for new journeys, or simply stop playing or creating. We've received amazing content, but we've also missed out on much.

I wonder how many of these artists could still be creating extraordinary content if they had the support of their communities. It’s common to encounter cliques of creators who vilify anyone considering making a living doing what they love. They’ll use every trick to convince you that not only do you NOT deserve it, but that pursuing it somehow taints you.

With every new friend and artist I meet, my first advice is always: FIND a way to monetize what you do. I believe that if you have the chance to make a living doing what you love, you gain MORE TIME to do what you're great at and, especially, what others love.

Besides, you don’t need everyone’s support—just those who, like me and many other players, are willing to contribute to ensure you have the time you need to keep producing and delivering something only you can create. There are ideas that haven’t been thought of and projects that haven’t been started. Life brings unexpected situations, and we never truly know what goes on behind the scenes for each person who shares their art with the world.

Let me tell you, people are willing to support you. In reality, there are more people willing to support a creator than those who aren't. The difference is that those who are willing don’t make as much noise, but they genuinely enjoy helping an artist who continually exceeds expectations.

I know some people think, “If I make money from this, I’ll have to commit to a level I’m not willing to.” And if that’s the case, that’s fine. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. However, I see this commitment as something positive, but I respect those who disagree. As an artist, you want a certain level of "healthy" pressure. After all, art requires it—not too much pressure, but not too little, either.

Criquette, for instance, is one of the best creators for The Sims 2 in my view. He made incredible things that nearly every player has used. He was ambitious on a level I’ve rarely seen. But he’s been inactive for years. I wonder how much more he could have created if he’d been able to monetize his work—cover household bills, put food in the fridge, or handle basic expenses. How much more time he might have had to create and share? How many brilliant things we could have today in The Sims if he were still here? But he wasn’t monetized, and maybe he was never interested in it, and that’s okay!

For every artist who monetizes, there are many who prefer to do it as a hobby. And that’s wonderful. There are many runners who do it for well-being, pleasure, social connections, or the benefits it brings to life. However, there are those who run professionally. They commit to a level an “amateur” NEVER would. They undergo training that a casual or hobbyist runner would NEVER endure. They maintain diets that others would NEVER tolerate. But the fact that some monetize running and turn it into a career doesn’t prevent others from running for love, fun, or enjoyment.

So, what I’m trying to say is: it’s all okay. If you believe monetizing your talent would give you more QUALITY time to sit and produce what you love, give you the chance to take someone you love to a special restaurant simply because you can, or allow you to be BETTER at what you do because it frees you from worrying about adult responsibilities—then do it!

Be prepared for the noise others will make, but remember that those people aren’t your target audience. Even if they make noise, they don’t consume what you produce. And if they do, they might do so in secret—because attacking a creator and consuming that creator’s work is contradictory. But believe me, there’s often more inconsistency than consistency in this world. And that’s okay!

Remember that on the other side, there are many kind people who don’t mind contributing a small, medium, or even significant amount to support a creator they love, appreciate, and benefit from. Keep this in mind when considering monetization, no matter which version of The Sims you create for. If there’s even one person willing to support you, that’s all you need to start.

I am sure that with this, you’ll have more time, more quality of life, more joy, and a healthy commitment to push yourself in a positive way to give back to your audience for the support and love they have for what you create.

If I have time to create and contribute today, it’s because of these people. They’ve changed my life, shown me that I have the chance to live the life I genuinely want for myself rather than the life circumstances might have dictated. They show me daily that I can LOVE what I do and make a living from it, and that monetizing it doesn’t take away my love for it—instead, it enhances it. I hope you consider my words.

In the end, remember this phrase: “Beyond daily life and what others think of you, what do you think of yourself?” Your value is something only you define. People will respect you to the extent that you respect yourself. If anyone says you don’t have a place “here,” remember, we’re always speaking about ourselves.

We can only give to others what we have, what we are. Trust in your talent and find a way to monetize it, whatever it may be—whether it’s making jarred cakes, selling pudding door-to-door, or creating content for The Sims. I’ve done all these things, and if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that our circumstances change according to our sense of worth. When we recognize that every job has value and that there’s nothing wrong with making a living if you’re providing benefits to others with what you have to offer... So follow your heart. Take risks, give it your all, and be the artist you want to be, because there are people ready to support you. You deserve it, and you will succeed. I hope this letter reminds you of your worth.

Never forget that each of your creations is a unique expression, something only you can bring to the world. May that value and uniqueness always guide you and give you the confidence to keep doing what you love.

#ts1 #ts2 #ts3 #ts4 #LettertoCreators

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jinx-xxed · 2 months ago

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Too Late (Almost)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Edited through this older piece since I still enjoy it :) also cuz I haven’t posted in forever hey guys

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; When presented with the choice of winning the battle or saving the one he loves, which path will Kylo Ren take?

Content; Angst, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander reader, original characters, Kylo POV and reader POV, Rey vs. Kylo, redoing that TFA fight basically, but now in the TROS timeline yay!, Force bonded to Kylo, Force visions, blood and injury, reader almost dies whoops, battle, Kylo saves you, murder, Kylo chooses you, whole bunch of conflicting emotions, longing, possible down bad behavior

Wc; 2.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Rey grunts against the force of his swing, her heels digging into and slipping against the snow covered ground beneath them. Red sparks against blue, creating a sort of purple mix of light that reflects off her face and his mask. It’s so reminiscent of their first conflict, of the fight in those snowy woods outside of Starkiller Base, where he had lost. Kylo won’t lose this time. He’s stronger, he’s better, he won’t be bested by his outlandish and fleeting desires to have someone who understood because he thought he had no one, to have someone to teach to prove to himself that this wasn’t for nothing.

It’s just them in this clearing, sparse, dying trees surrounding them, snow flying up around their legs and soaking into their clothing. Their hair is plastered to the edges of their cheeks, determination and fury burning in both of their eyes. Determination not to lose, determination to get out of this in one piece. Rey slashes at him, a downward swing that he blocks and jerks his lightsaber upwards, taking hers with it. She steps away to just narrowly avoid the middle swing he aims at her abdomen, going into the defensive again. She slips against the ground, her lightsaber unable to come up and protect her when he prepares another attack, leading her to resort to the strength of the Force. He feels an invisible power blocking his lightsaber, creating a weird effect with the plasma where it’s stuck in the air mid-swing, quivering beneath the Force. With her next breath, Rey rears up and tries an underhand slash, one which he dodges by darting backwards.

The dance is familiar, one Kylo’s practiced time and time again with different partners. It doesn’t scare him, doesn’t illicit the type of fear it does in Rey. She’s scared of losing, of what could happen to her if she does. She knows she’s at a natural disadvantage with him beating her out in almost every aspect, and yet it’s her courage that keeps her going. It’s something intangible that keeps her from bowing to his power—her defiance and spirit. He recognizes the spark in her eyes, because he’s seen it so many times in someone else’s. In someone who is so unbreakable it infuriated him, in someone who is his equal in every way, in someone who has been with him through just about everything.

Lightsabers burn gashes into trees, the wood smoking and burning orange, snow melts from the heat, only to be replaced by a flurry disturbed by the two of them. In the distance, there’s more fighting, more smoke, more blaster fire, more ship engines screaming. But here, it’s like they’re in their own isolated world away from it all. Rey misses a swing, her form falters, and he takes his chance. He uses the Force like the surge of a wave, overwhelming his opponent before she can react, slamming it against her body and sending her off balance. She yells, her back connecting violently with a tree, bringing her to her hands and knees in the white coldness of the snow. He advances with the easy, ruthless power of a predator as she struggles to get back to her feet. The opportunity is open before him, feeling like the sight of a clear sky after days of endless clouds, he only needs to-

Help.

The voice echoes through his mind, it makes his entire body freeze, like he’s unable to move even if he wanted to. It comes from far off in the trees, in a blood soaked clearing, where there’s only pain and anger and a desperate reach outwards. He heard her, her single word ringing louder than any other thought that may occupy his attention. His head turns ever so slightly, just a small tilt to the left, towards that direction. Rey is beginning to get up, she’s readying her saber, she’s prepared to fight again—but she’s studying him as well, curiosity sparking from the sudden change of his demeanor. She recognizes the way something has called him, something she couldn’t hear but could feel like a ripple across a still lake.

She’s alone, his Commander is alone, fighting to keep herself upright in a battle that’s quickly tipping in a direction that is not in her favor. He sees it in flashes across their bond, the imagery so vivid it’s like he’s there, living it through herself. There’s so many of them, all coming from between the trees with weapons brandished and with a determination to make this her resting ground. It was all planned out; get one of them alone, funnel them away from their soldiers and comrades so they can be overwhelmed and overrun, brought down by those they’d spent so long crushing beneath their heel. They knew he’d be too focused on Rey, blinded by his rage, so that left only one remaining. Her Fleet is nowhere to be found, instead fighting their own battles, working together in the skies with the methods they’d been taught. Her breath is forced from her lungs as she’s brought to the ground. He feels it, the way his chest is threatening to cave in on itself, the burning, phantom pain within his right arm and left side.

The scene disappears suddenly and is instead replaced by something else, something formed and created by the otherworldly powers of the Force. He recognizes the hazy look of a vision, a glimpse into one of many possible futures. He watches, powerless, as she’s pinned, grappling hopelessly against a woman with a blaster aimed right at her head. Kylo’s torn from the vision just as the blaster goes off, the sound of it echoing in his skull.

A sudden despair washes over him, a type he’s never felt before and isn’t sure what to do with. It has no weight behind it, being simply the tip of the iceberg of what’s to come depending on what decision he may make. But it’s enough to make him want to fall to his knees. He’s thrown back into his body, his feet feeling unsteady beneath him, the crackling of his lightsaber filling his ears instead of the screech of a blaster. His eyes lift to Rey, his mind reaches for the forest. Two choices, two paths, two outcomes. That’s what it always is, isn’t it? One or the other, he can’t have both.

His fists clench, the ridges of his lightsaber hilt bite into his palm, Rey’s expression hardens, her legs separating into a battle stance. There’s a voice in his head that hisses at him angrily, demanding he not make this choice, demanding that he do what he’s supposed to, what he’s meant to. Weak, useless, too much of your father in you. He listens to it for a moment, listens to its whispers that have plagued him for years.

But then that despair from before pierces him like a stake, yelling at him, grabbing onto him, begging him to listen just this once. There’s a dam that breaks, a cage that opens and frees the bird trapped inside, flying in a way it always dreamed of. He takes a stumbling step back, a final moment of hesitation, like giving himself a chance to reconsider. It’s futile; he made up his mind a long time ago.

And then Kylo runs. He runs in the opposite direction, he runs from Rey, he runs from his victory, he runs from every lesson beat into him, and he instead runs towards something else entirely. Towards his hope, his respite, his safety, his partner, his everything. He feels deep down in the most core parts of himself that he just crossed a line he’ll never be able to uncross—and he finds that he doesn’t want to. Snow tries to suck him down, decaying plants grab at the edges of his robes, that hissing voice inside his head screams, but he ignores it all. Nothing can stop him now. His breath burns in his lungs, icy and angry and desperate. He feels her so acutely, feels her pain and every emotion and thought within her head, and it’s this that makes him realize he doesn’t know what to do were that to suddenly disappear, snuffed out like a flame, leaving him feeling like he’s missing the second half of himself. He’s been too late for a lot of things; too late to make up for what he’s done, too late to make things different, too late to make the right choice.

Please don’t let him be too late for this.

» ☆ «

“I thought you were the good guys.”

The blaster readjusts in the hands holding it, the barrel shifting upwards like it wants to give you a better view of where your demise is going to come from. The woman behind it keeps one eye shut, the other glaring at you as she snarls at your words. “We are the good guys.”

The face of this girl you used to know is now foreign to you, aged by the terrors of war and the fight for survival just like yours is. You can’t even remember her name. Your hand shakes desperately against her wrist, as if it’ll do anything to keep back the inevitable. Blood drips down into your left eye, your breathing rasps past your lips. Your other hand lays limp in the snow, a blaster shot cutting clean through your forearm and rendering it useless. Your lightsaber is somewhere nearby, knocked from your grasp at the same moment an elbow had connected with your jaw.

“You say that, but you all stoop to the same levels you criticize us for.” You spit at her, bloody teeth bared. “What do you think this is? A game to see who can come out on top with more innocence? Don’t kid yourselves.”

The girl’s eyes flare with anger so acute you can see the sparks. She brings her heavy-booted foot down on the blaster wound in your arm, putting as much pressure as possible. You choke out a scream as pain eats you alive, nausea blooming in your stomach. Blood spurts beneath the sole of her shoe, trickling down your charred skin and onto the snow below. “Quit talking like you fucking know anything. You’re vile. You get off on killing us. You deserve whatever fate waits for you in hell.” She jerks your hand off her wrist, gripping it and twisting sharply. Bones crack, more agony. Your mouth merely hangs open, sound unable to come out as your vision flashes white.

You feel as though your body is not yours, your pain cutting the ropes that kept the second part of you inside, allowing it to linger nearby as if this is all happening to someone else. Maybe it’s because you’re empty of your abilities, your muscles and blood no longer able to harbor the power of the Force. You’d used it all up a while ago when you were fighting a different group of rebels. Now you’re left so depleted you can’t even call your lightsaber to you, nor can you seem to keep your soul inside your own body. You look again at the blaster in her hands, you look into the black pit of the barrel. Is that what it’ll feel like? Black nothingness? You think so.

There’s nobody nearby to hear you, to come help—save—you. The Fleet is off fighting their battles in the skies, Kylo is occupied with Rey, you can’t call for backup. This was the rebels plan, after all. They wanted you to separate so you weren’t as strong, so that you could be taken down easier. You’ll admit that they were smart in taking the risk, it clearly worked in their favor. You should’ve been smarter, you should’ve noticed the signs and known not to follow the bait. You should’ve kept your head clear rather than letting the idea of this victory cloud your thoughts. You should’ve known to check your surroundings through the Force so you didn’t get overwhelmed by the rebels. You were stupid in the heat of the moment and you’re going to pay for it. You deserve it. You left BB-12 back in your ship so he didn’t get injured—even if he is a droid. You hope he’ll be okay.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the action using too much strength that you don’t have. The cold of the snow is setting in, making your body numb. Your pain seems so far away when it’s like that. There’s a shift, the blaster clicking, and you know what’s going to happen. That’s fine. You couldn’t escape it forever.

You expect it to happen, for that shot of hot plasma to pierce through your heart and for all of this to come to an end. Your limbs relax in preparation—but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s an explosion of noises all at once. Your ears feel like they’re submerged in water but you can still hear the screams in fear and anger and confusion, the stomping of feet as people try to run, and the screech of an unstable lightsaber as it swings through the air and through human flesh. The weight of that girl on your chest is lifted so rapidly that breath finds its way back into your lungs in a heaving gasp that has your entire body burning in agony.

It takes less than a minute before silence settles over the clearing. The smell of fresh death hits your nose. You can barely manage to open your eyes again, merely squinting up at Kylo standing over you. His black uniform makes him cut such an intimidating shape against the white backdrop of the snow and watery sky, the silver lining on his helmet reflecting it. His breathing is coming out as ragged static through his modifier, chest heaving. His lightsaber clicks off and he attaches it to his belt, calling yours to him as he does and putting it right next to his own.

It feels like a dream that he’s actually here, that he picks you up and cradles you so carefully so he doesn’t irritate your wounds. When he lifts you, you see the carnage he left. Every rebel lays dead on the ground, their bodies getting buried under the snow that’s begun to fall. Kylo’s warmth under your cheek almost doesn’t feel real… you should be dead. You deserve to be dead. When you sent out that final plea through the Force, you never expected him to answer.

“I’m sorry.” You croak. “I messed it up. You lost them because of me. You should’ve left me-“

“Don’t.” Kylo snaps. Your body jostles with his movements as he walks. “Don’t say that.“

Even with your fading strength, you can still feel him through the bond you share. He was terrified, he was terrified of the possibility of losing you. He was terrified of how willing you were to give up; he could sense those final moments. He’s so angry at himself for nearly letting it happen, for letting the rebels get the upper hand like this.

“We will find them again,” he promises you. He pauses, the silence filled with the crunch of snow beneath his boots. “The same could not be said if I lost you.”

#sigh I miss him #Star Wars #star wars x reader #Star Wars fanfic #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x reader #kylo #kylo fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren angst

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