#this one enjoys thinking about all the ways macabre could react to that

[patchworkcuddlebug]

The Surgery Doll

There’s a sickening creak of metal as the well-aged door is effortfully pushed open. The operation room was lit with an aggressive white light, leaving harsh shadows angled into every corner. The cloth doll turns its head, trying to shield the buttons on its face from the intense glow. The flinch lasts only a moment, as it remembers its place. It turns back, facing the ball-jointed doll that politely stands in wait across the operating table.

It's... a kind of doll it hadn't seen before. It's seen plenty of ball-jointed dolls, of course. But none like this. The way its frame crawls upward, consuming the corner of the room like a spider web. The sharp edges of its thin, lanky frame looked as if they could cut the delicate flesh of any onlooker.

"Ah, it's... very nice to meet that one." The cloth doll curtsies, failing to hide its nervousness. "This one's name is Pudding. It's nice to, um..." The doll trails off before it can repeat itself, looking to the other doll for approval.

The ball-jointed doll is unfettered. It towers above the plaything, statuesque as it glares down at its patient. "Macabre."

"Ah, a pretty name!" It tries to smile, apprehension leaving the stitches in its mouth half-turned. "It's nice to meet that one!"

Macabre simply turns away, bending down to reach under the counter behind it. "Get on the table."

The other doll obeys, letting its soft body quietly thump against the back. With cloth mittens clasped together, resting on its belly, it stares up into the sterile fluorescent light.

The room is cold, the stone walls of the basement emanating an unwelcoming aura of stiff indifference. The lights, external fixtures crudely strung up with wire, leave a power cord that snakes into the corner and disappears behind a shelf of medical texts, for people and non-people alike. Spines coloured the same blue seen upon the walls of hospitals, the same colour Pudding has seen before when Miss cuddles it through her drama shows. They're outnumbered by smaller books; operating manuals, caring for clockwork, and a few books on sewing and crochet that it recognizes from Miss's shelf.

A moment passes. All that fills the room is a practised pattern, the routine movements of a doll at work as the shuffling of something accompanies its searching hands.

"So... um..." The doll tries to speak. This is not a bed for rest, Macabre is not a partner to sooth. It's far out of its element. "This one has never met a medical doll before. What's it like?"

There's a distinct creaking as Macabre turns, a clear strain against its old joints as it reaches for its implement. It holds sewing scissors, the blades hanging open and held over Pudding's body like a scythe.

Its face remains still, adorned with a pensive frown dotted with dark makeup. Only now does Pudding notice how... it wouldn't dare to say something as rude as inelegant, but it's never seen a doll wear something so pragmatic. A plain black t-shirt dress, completely without frills or decoration. Scrubs.

"It's wonderful." Its painted-on frown doesn't move as the monotone drips from it. It's lowered to a whisper, just as it was before, as if raising its voice above the minimum would be a strain. "This one gets to see the private insides of every doll it's ever met. It's a privilege to be trusted."

Its body curls inward, the lanky body creaking as it hovers over the doll like a beast about to pounce. A sleek and terrible monster of the shadows, one that lurks around the corner to dig fangs into necks. But, of course, its mouth remains politely closed. "Thank you."

"Oh!" The cloth doll perks up, a genuine smile teasing at its lips. "Um, this one is happy to help!" There's a hesitation in its voice, one of surprise and just a little confusion. But, just a little, it feels fulfilled. "That one should thank Miss Circe when she returns, too. She's what made this one so helpful." It echoes from a lifetime of habit.

With its reaction fulfilled, Pudding lowers its head back, flush against the table. The apprehension makes itself known again, digging in and rooting within the doll's mind.

Macabre lets out a gentle sigh, giving a barely-there curious tilt of its head. "You can't anesthetize a doll."

"Huh?"

"So that one needs to calm itself before the operation." It reaches back and places the sewing scissors on the tray resting on the counter behind it, next to bags of weighted beads. Its movements were smooth, unflinchingly elegant, to an unnatural degree. Movements uninhibited by mortal consideration, everything in service to a purposeful intent, with no room left for a flinch. "It's a comfort doll, yes? What would that one do if it were the one calming a patient?"

"Oh!" Recognition fades into concern. "Oh, um..." With no lungs left to fill, the doll mimics a sigh as it turns back to the room's only door. "This one would probably be most comforted by Miss being here, but she has such important things to be doing."

Before it can continue, before it can dilute its needs with practicality, Macabre accepts. "If that one needs a Miss, this one shall provide. Her name was Circe, yes?"

Comfort dolls, Pudding especially, must be attuned with emotion to follow their purpose. A comfort doll should recognize what will be enjoyed, appreciated, and most of all, comforting. So it knows. Immediately, it knows.

"Yes, Miss Circe." Pudding nods dutifully, smiling up at a doll that is not her witch. Its eyes are much too dark, its hair the same as its blunt bangs almost hide its eyes entirely. And that face, its frozen porcelain face, bereft of Circe's relief to finally be so close to her favourite doll and hold it tight after a long day apart. "...thank you for being here with this one."

"She is kind, isn't she? She must treat that one so well." Macabre can't help but let its thoughts drift away, head tilting downward to avert its eyes. "So refined, but so compassionate. Someone who can hug, who can cause smiles. What makes that one smile?"

It's then that Pudding sees something in the taller doll shift. Its posture loosens, just a little, just enough. It's all the cloth doll needs. It feels something light up, a drive, a need. This is its purpose.

Its focus shifts, away from itself. All it can do is look up at Macabre, a wistful compassion clear even through the darkness of its buttons. "You always tell this one stories about all the fun people you meet, Miss. You're so social, it's so natural for you to just attract people and make them happy."

Macabre doesn't sigh, hiding the refreshing relief to hear such a thing. To imagine it were true, that it was a vibrant thing of compassion and closeness. "Yes..." It hesitates, only for a moment, from its task. It takes that moment, just a moment and nothing more, to conjure a self to refer to. "I... I met someone, just at the store the other day. She was so kind to me. She just... came up to me and talked like we were old friends. She wasn't the least bit scared, she..."

Macabre flinched, woken from its lucid daydream, as it feels a soft mitten snake into its hand. Immediately, Pudding pulls away. "Oh! Sorry, this one didn-"

"No!" Macabre snatches its mitten back. "No, it's... please. It's okay."

Slowly, gently, the mitten closes around the other doll’s sharp and slender grasp. "Yes, Miss. Of course."

. . . . .

Thmp!

Such soft, gentle impacts ring into the concrete. Thmp goes an experimental first step, the doll's feet landing against the ground with a heavier and clumsier pressure. "Oh, gosh, this feels…"

The doll looks back to Macabre. "…it's strange." Another raise of the foot, and a gentle press against the floor, too softly to sound beyond the subtle rustling of its new beads. "It's a little heavy, but it doesn't feel… encumbering, it thinks."

Fixing its posture, Pudding's look turns from one of curiosity to gratitude. "This one gives its thanks, Macabre. That one is very talented!"

With a soft creak, the other doll lowered its head, a polite and dutiful gesture. "It was nothing. That one was a very good doll. Most dolls struggle to be still when they're being cut, this one is pr-"

It stops itself. "…that one did well."

Pudding knew what it wanted to say, of course. It had known all along.

"Thanks for acting as this one's Miss, as well. It was a great help." The doll bows and grabs its dress, a quick and light curtsy.

Then, it spoke one final thought. Just before Circe returned, and Pudding gave her all of its attention like any good doll would. Just before she left the payment on the table, one that an owned doll would have passed along to its witch. Just enough to almost force a soulful blush on Macabre's cold, painted face.

"That one would make a lovely witch."

[skuntank]

We’ve discussed how some of Cynthia and Diantha’s pokemon would react to their relationship (Lucario and Gardevoir as the long-suffering therapists, Hawlucha happily watching the IRL telenovella develop, you mentioned before Milotic trying to “nudge them together” in the most awkward situations possible) but I’m curious how you think their other pokemon would regard their relationship? IMO Diantha’s Tyrantrum is too self absorbed to notice any human romance happening and only finds out after a year of them being together.

sorry for the delay on this, thank you for your patience!

this got long oops. if there are any you have a different perspective on, id love to hear about it.

lets see. of Cynthia's pokemon not already discussed......

Garchomp: she is fiercely protective of cynthia and i dont see diantha being any exception at first. i imagine garchomp takes a little while to warm up to most, if she warms up to you at all. but once she and diantha establish a connection, i feel that garchomp would really love her. i see garchomp being like the stereotypical Big Mean Guard Dog and is extremely devoted to the few she accepts as worthy. diantha becomes one of her favorite people but for a while, diantha couldnt approach cynthia without feeling a cold chill of draconic eyes on her (garchomp is too well trained to outright attack anyone unprovoked) now, they are snuggle buddies.

Spiritomb: being the pokemon that it is, i dont ever see it being a cuddly creature, but it for certain shows its affection in its own way. probably thinks at first that diantha is gonna be easy to spook, but when it finds that she isnt as easily started as most, i think that in itself would earn some respect points. well, about as much as a several thousand year old cluster of miserable souls can have for a person. it still enjoys trying to spook and trick her but thats also sort of its baseline for most. diantha finds it oddly cute in a macabre sort of way.

Roserade: it seems somewhat cliche to characterize the masquerade rose pokemon as a romantic but. sue me. she was a phaesporiashipper from day one. similarly to how i see gardenia's roserade offering flowers to cheryl on her trainer's behalf before they even started dating, i can see cynthia's roserade not at all being subtle in dropping hints, but is a bit more elegant and artistic in its implementation than perhaps gardenia's roserade was. like perhaps, whipping up a small flurry of rose petals to swirl around them when she feels the moment calls for it. hawlucha highly appreciates the added theatrics.

Gastrodon: this is a dumb puppy slug. there is nothing going on behind those eyes. at least, as far as we know. she likes diantha. diantha smells nice and gastrodon likes to ooze on her. diantha gastrodon approved.

Togekiss: oh another big phaesporiashipper i would think, but not in the same theatrical way as perhaps roserade or hawlucha would be. i see him being a bit more of a worrywart for some reason, unsure why. if he could speak, he would regularly ask diantha if shes eaten recently, if she needs some water, how has she been sleeping etc.

Glaceon: it is sort of shocking how similar in some ways she is to diantha in terms of personality. at first im ngl i think glaceon would be sort of put off by diantha, and still there are times where they dont mesh the best, but there are some things they can connect over. cynthia thinks its very sweet when glaceon decides to sit on diantha's lap and demand pets. (and glaceon will then spend the rest of the afternoon pretending diantha doesnt exist lol.) depending on the nature of the comparison, diantha doesnt always appreciate when cynthia points out how similar they are, but she also knows cynthia is right and cant really say anything about it.

i was gonna include some other of cynthias pokemon like eelektross on kommo-o but. i have no thoughts on them

Of Diantha's pokemon, not already discussed:

Tyrantrum: i like your perspective on this one lol. tyrantrum strikes me as the type that isnt extremely aware of whats going on around him all the time. but thats ok. he adores diantha. and diantha's new friend cynthia is ok too. he doesnt like her garchomp tho. that probably occupies more of his mind than whatever is going on with his trainer and cynthia.

Aurorus: phaesporiashipper. is probably a part of whatever spectator group hawlucha and roserade have going on. i dont have much more to say on this, unfortunately. : (

Gourgeist: likes cynthia a lot!!! thinks she is super cool and likes her roserade and her spiritomb and also cynthias whole vibe!! probably likes to follow cynthia around when she is visiting. eternally curious and loves to poke her nose into whatever cynthia is doing and i can see cynthia even trying to explain some of her research to gourgeist, knowing gourgeist probably doesnt get it at all, but nevertheless she is an enthusiastic listener! delights in doing little things like tugging on cynthias hair and vanishing before being seen, or making her teacup float off the table. of course this doesnt faze cynthia, but for gourgeist's sake, she will act surprised and play along.

Goodra: time for cynthia to get slimed on by a big dumb puppy slug. no one can escape The Goo. cynthia maintains that goodra's goo is much worse to try to clean off than gastrodon's. diantha likes to remind her she is an asshole if she doesnt accept a goodra hug.

[by-speaker]

Rivals

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

Also, Chapell Roan's song "Good Luck, babe!"

The booming sound of the speakers and the screams of the fans really got him excited, the adrenaline coursed through his veins and the excitement made him want to jump in place. 

‘Missa! Missa!’ he could hear them chanting from their place backstage, shouting his name, eager for his presence. 

Come on Missa, you're the best, he encouraged himself a little before putting his presence on stage, ‘Good night, Quesadilla Island!’

It was the final night of the singing competition being held on the main island, Missa was originally from Karmaland, a small island near Quesadilla, from a little town called ‘Minecraft Extreme’ this was his chance to succeed. 

‘Are you ready for the best night of your lives!’ shouted Missa. 

The crowd went wild. Missa loved that power he had over the audience, how he could get excited so easily, but he knew this wasn't going to be easy. Philza was also in the competition, and despite his public belittling, he knew how talented Philza was. 

Missa smiled as he heard the soundtrack to ‘Good luck, babe!’ And he smiled even more as he saw Philza standing in the audience, this was his chance. 

With a dramatic gesture, Missa approached the edge of the stage, her eyes fixed on Philza. The audience followed his gaze, and a murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew the history between them, the romance that had blossomed and died so publicly.

‘This song,’ Missa announced, her voice charged with emotion, ’is for someone special. Someone who used to know me better than anyone else.’

Missa rested his gaze on Philza, the blonde tensed, he was sure he could feel Kristin's surprised gaze beside him, looking at Missa as if she'd just solved a puzzle. 

Missa wasn't going to lie, he was enjoying it, he was enjoying it a lot, he was wallowing in Philza's discomfort, and he couldn't be happier. When the bridge came, she intentionally moved closer to Philza, an almost macabre smile on her lips. 

‘When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night.’ She said walking down to the stalls, ‘With your head in your hands, she's nothing more than your wife’ Missa turned his gaze to Kristin, ‘And when you think about me all of those years ago, You're standing face to face with “I told you so”’ Missa was standing in front of Philza, ‘You know I hate to say it, I told you so, You know I hate to say, but I told you so’ he said in a whisper to Philza. 

Philza pursed his lips in annoyance, but could not find the words to respond to the one he thought was the love of his life. His mind swirled between anger, humiliation and something else he couldn't identify, something buried under layers of pride and resentment. But before he could react, Kristin intervened.

‘This isn't just about the competition, is it?’ She told him, looking at him as her best friend almost pityingly. ‘It's about him.’  

‘No,’ Philza muttered, ’I'm not going to let him humiliate me, I'm THE Philza Minecraft, a little boy from Karmaland isn't going to make fun of me.’

Kristin frowned, recognising the determination in her friend's voice. ‘Phil, don't do anything rash. Remember why we're here.’

But Philza didn't seem to hear her. With a sudden movement, he turned around and began to push his way through the crowd, heading for the backstage area.

‘Where are you going?’ Kristin asked, raising her voice to make herself heard over the music and the shouts of the crowd.

‘To prepare for my performance,’ Philza replied without turning around. ‘It's time to remind everyone who I am.’

[thedarkone121]

HI HI, FINALLY INVADING YOUR ASKS >:3 Does Miss Anne-Marie have any other hobbies? (besides music and Hyde Hunting, ;P) also, what's her relationship with most of the Lodgers like? Does she have any favourites? How is Lanyon around her? Otherwise, go wild!! >:33

THE DARK WATERS HAVE BEEN INVADED!

But why yes, Miss Anne-Marie does have other hobbies. If you couldn’t tell by her love for Zosimos, Anne-Marie is a bit fascinated by the macabre. Her favorite pastime is to read Grimms’ Fairy Tales (when she still had her sight) and her top three stories are Hansel and Gretel (because she loves how Hansel and Gretel tricked the Witch), Little Red Riding Hood (Jekyll got her a copy where Red Cap lives and she laughed at the stones in Wolf’s stomach) and Clever Gretel (she thought it was same Gretel from Hansel and Gretel and she liked the ending). I like to think in a Modern AU, she would be really be into Goosebumps and Magic Tree House. When she lost her sight, Jekyll has taken to reading her stories for bedtime.

She also really enjoys theater and loves it when Jekyll takes her out to watch them while he’s mingling with other aristocrats. At long last, Jekyll has someone he can share his love of theater with it. I’m trying to look up what shows were around in the Victorian Era that Anne-Marie would enjoy but my search isn’t turning up great 😅 What else… Oh, right! Anne-Marie enjoys playing in the park, where she often runs around doing laps or climbing things.

Anne-Marie is also a bit of a fashionista. She loves dresses with big skirts and putting bows in her hair. She still loves fashion, even with losing her sight. She works around this by having Rachel and Ito describe how the outfits look, her feeling the material in her hand, and she is still able to retain a bit of color in her vision. She, along with Ito, are basically in charged of everyone’s wardrobe for the expedition. One hobby she developed after the Chemical Accident is playing Chess, Jekyll has lost to her three out of the five times they played.

ONTO THE LODGERS! Anne-Marie, pre-Frankenstein, got along with most of the Lodgers pretty well. She’s been polite and welcoming to them, always asking questions about what they’re working on. Even if science is not her passion, she is endlessly curious about their experiments and is always eager to learn more. I like to think The Lodgers were extremely flattered that a high-class gentleman’s daughter was fascinated with their work and would do their best to explain in ways that would impress her. She’s like their one audience member for their theater of mad science and they’re happy she’s enjoying it.

Her favorite Lodgers are Ito, Lavender, and Doodle. Ito because they both love fashion (Anne-Marie saw her kimonos and asked Ito if she could wear one, forever earning the older woman's good side), Lavender because of all the Lovecraftian creatures she talks about, and Doodle because he makes the best desserts.

Oh, God, Lanyon. I’m just going to get this out of the way; she does not like Lanyon. She met him a year after Jekyll adopted her at a social event. He didn’t realized she was Jekyll’s kid, so he left a rather bad first impression on her.

Thinking of how Lanyon reacts to her has become a huge spiral down the Staircase of Ideas. Knowing Lanyon’s backstory with his father and his fear that Jekyll would leave him for a woman, the very idea of Jekyll having kid could go in so many ways. What I’m settling on is that he is convinced that Anne-Marie is Jekyll’s biological kid, that his fears have become true and he had found a woman to have a child with. Nevermind the fact that Jekyll is not married and how he and Anne-Marie look nothing alike, the mere shock of Jekyll saying he has a daughter now was enough to convinced Lanyon of this narrative. He’s also convinced they do look alike, on the account that he thinks Anne-Marie has a similar glint in her eyes when she’s being excited about music, like how Jekyll is with chemistry set in their university days. How they both have the same passion and enthusiasm about the things they love.

Once he had gotten over his despair, Lanyon had fully committed himself into becoming her “Fun Uncle”, someone who she could look up to and be there for when she wanted to be a wild kid having fun. Problem is, he tends to have a habit of not asking her what she wants. With his experience with his father, Lanyon thought all kids wanted to do was play all day with no future in mind, not let themselves get into hobbies that their parents forced them into (he thought her love for music was something Jekyll got her into, that’s a can of worms on a whole other level). He really wants her to like him because even if the fact makes him sad, she’s still Jekyll’s daughter and he does find her willful spirit charming.

Sadly, Anne-Marie is not impressed by him. His bad first impression, his habit of not asking her what she wants, and one other thing I’ll save for later has made her keep Lanyon at arms length. You can absolutely BET he was jealous when Jekyll’s new “assistant” got closer to Anne-Marie and how he somehow earned the right to call her ‘Annie’.

And WOW, that’s done! I’m so sorry this became so long but thank you for letting me go wild on my thoughts for Anne-Marie! I can’t wait to write more of her story!

[munsonownsmyass]

Not so Secret

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: When you wear a sundress, Joel can't keep his hands off of you, no matter where you are.

Warnings: fluff, almost getting caught, public sex, fingering, unprotected sex.

Author’s note: Still in the "Worth Fighting For" universe, but takes place later in their timeline.

Thanks to @mindidjarin I'm now a firm believer that Joel Miller enjoys the possibility of being caught. So that thought lead to this.

The streets of Jackson are buzzing with people, going about their days. You were still trying to get used to all the commotion, people being around you all the time. Since the start, it was only you and your family and for the longest time it had been only you and Lucas. Now you had Joel and Ellie, a place you belonged, someone who cared about you.

A pair of strong hands curl around your waist, holding you softly Joel plants a soft kiss just below your ear. Reaching behind, your fingers play with his hair as he kisses you again, his beard scratching so deliciously on your skin.

“What’ you’re doing, darlin’?” he rasps, voice deeper than usual. By now you know what it means, instantly making you clench your thighs together.

“I believe it’s called laundry.” You tease, causing Joel to chuckle against your neck before his lips latches onto you again. Pressing his hips against you, the hard outline of his cock digs into your ass.

“Well, you ain’t doing it no more.” he drawls, hands already reaching for the hem of your dress. You were always most comfortable in pants, but since you found a new wardrobe in Jackson, you’ve come to appreciate sundresses and the way Joel always reacted to them.

“Joel… We’re in public.” You whisper, breathing already strained as he grinds against you.

“Ain’t nobody around, sweetheart.” He moans, his hand cupping your mound, before slipping a finger into your wet cunt. You’re already dripping for him, bucking against his hand as his skilled fingers finds your clit.

“Joel… Please…” whimpering, you press your ass against his erection. With his free hand, he quickly opens his jeans, pulling out his throbbing cock before nudging at your entrance.

“Hey Joel, you think you could help me with something?”

You hear Tony’s voice before you see him, but Joel doesn’t move. As Tony rounds the corner, Joel presses closer to you, hiding his cock but barely manages to move his fingers from your aching core when Tony stops in front of you.

“I’ll be right over. Just gotta help with the laundry.” His voice surprisingly calm, pressing a soft kiss to your flustered cheek. Tony makes some comment about how sweet you are, before walking away. Breathing a sigh of relief, you’re ready to pull Joel into the house, but he has other plans.

Pressing your front against the fence, Joel takes one last look out over the street before pushing his cock into your wet heat. The stretch is heavenly, causing you to whimper a little too loud. A deep growl erupts from him as Joel bottoms out, leaning in close to whisper in your ear.

“Gotta stay quiet for me, or else someone is gonna catch us.” He chuckles, pulling out of you only to thrust back in again, painfully slow. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Thank you so much for reading. Feedback and reblogs are much appriciated ❤️

Tagging: @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @missbeewrites @e-dubbc11 @phoebe-danvers @lucy-sky @iamskyereads @writerwoed @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @scorpio-marionette @stilllivindue2spite @macabre-mangled @chasingdreamer @kirsteng42 @impala1967666

[interact-if]

Day 2 of our Arab Heritage Month Featured Author Interviews, starting with Jaymee!

Jaymee, author of Lost Lambs.

You are an assassin of renown, a professional in the world of contract killing. Deadly, discreet, and experienced. Hired by a wealthy, mysterious client for your most peculiar job yet.

“Off the New England coast is a grand manor awaiting its first drop of blood. Attend the week-long banquet and kill all attending guests as instructed.”

The reason should not matter but still, you wonder - why all these people at once? Why the drama and effort of a banquet? Where is the host? And why are the servants, empty eyes and puppet smiles, watching you? Hidden like a wolf among sheep, you begin to suspect you may not be the only one or thing that stalks these gilded halls.

Read more about Lost Lambs here. Play the Demo here. Tags: Mystery.

[INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!]

Q1. Tell us about yourself and project(s)?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a big fan of all things dark and creepy in fiction. Hauntings, murder, vampires, the crushing dread that comes with being alive - I love reading and writing it! So, Lost Lambs was a pretty expected project for me. Set in the Gilded Age, Lost Lambs is basically a reverse whodunnit where you play as the mysterious killer. There was a video game that had a quest like this and it was so much fun, I just had to make my own version after discovering IF.

Q2. What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

All the different choices! All the different results! As a writer, I love seeing what different readers do. And then all the different ways I can have the story react to them. It’s exciting but also one of the biggest challenges, if not the biggest. Compared to a regular story, it can get overwhelming very fast - especially when you want to accommodate a large amount of play styles. Just having to accept I can’t include everything is a challenge itself.

Q3. Do you use your identity/heritage as inspiration? How is it reflected in your project?

It’s reflected the most in my characters and their overall themes, I think. Being Palestinian and Filipino in America, I grew up feeling torn between cultures. Many of my characters have experienced that. Even if it’s not completely the same, there’s usually an underlying theme of feeling like an outsider and what bridges we have to build or burn to overcome it and accept ourselves.

Q4. What aspect of your identity would you like to explore further in your project?

I don’t think Lost Lambs is a really good project for identity exploration lol. But in the future, I’d love to write something a little closer to home. Maybe something involving religion or folklore so I can pay tribute to the stories my family shared with me. It’d be interesting to see if I could tie that into modern times.

Q5. What is something about your project that you love or make you excited?

Not to sound like an edge lord but honestly, the more messed up, macabre aspects. Plus, I adore villain protagonists! There’s just so much potential for intrigue and heartbreak and moral crises. Lost Lambs is also absurd in a way that I find morbidly funny. Horror and comedy are so closely related and I enjoy balancing the grim tone with hints of humor.

Q6. What would you like to see more in interactive fiction/the IF community?

I’d love to see more authors explore their own identities! Writing is a great way to celebrate parts of yourself. And if it helps the writer connect then surely a few readers will also be able to connect. On a dumber note, I’m a sucker for every ex-option love interest. Give me the exes. Enemies to lovers? It’s alright. Lovers to enemies? I’ll take 100, please.

Q7. Do you have any advice for your fellow authors?

It’s going to sound like the most generic advice ever but Have Fun, first and foremost. And try not to pay attention to numbers whether it’s word count or followers. Just go wild! Get everything down onto a page, a napkin, the walls of your room, doesn’t matter. Give life to what you want to write before you kill it off. Don’t get too caught up in your own head before even starting because that can be the hardest part. Because once you’ve started, you can always come back to it later.

[slasherhaven]

Hi, sweetheart! I just found your blog and i think your writings are wonderful. I think you are very talented about writing. Can i request a headcanon for Michael, Brahms and Billy's reaction to an artist reader who bought their house and use it as a studio and living space. They almost don't go outside. They fiiled a room with canvases and paint tubes but their art is... Let's say it may cause a trauma if someone sees them. Like full of blood and massacre images. And they started to like her.💖

These got pretty long so they’re under the cut 😂

Michael, Brahms, and Billy. His future s/o buys his house, using it as a living space and a studio for their very macabre art:

Michael Myers

The house had been up for sale for a long time but had no buyers. Nobody wanted to buy the house where the infamous Michael Myers grew up and committed his first murder. So, it remained empty.

Which was great for Michael because it meant that it was somewhere he could hideout. After all, even he needed to eat and sleep from time to time.

But then, by some miracle, somebody bought it. It had been the cause of some surprise and gossip among the rest of the town.

You were new to the town but had been informed of the history of the house, they had to disclose that information after all. They expected you to withdraw your interested but you took it with little hesitation. Maybe it had been your interest in the macabre.

Michael wasn’t happy about this.

No only would somebody being living in his home but he now wouldn’t be able to use the space.

But he was curious, even if his plan was to just kill you and take back his home.

So he watched you.

He actually watched you for some time.

You seemed to be doing a lot of decorating, storing old furniture and bringing in your own. But at least you weren’t throwing it away...

He got as close as he could without alerting you to his presence and ever watching gaze.

He wanted to explore the house some more, see how you had changed it, but you barely ever left.

Finally, you had to leave to do some grocery shopping.

And Michael took the opportunity to explore. 

Most of the house had actually been left alone, the old furniture that was still usable was where it belonged, just cleaner. But you had added your own belongings.

It seemed that you had turned the living room, the largest and brightest of the rooms, into an art studio. Your easels, canvas, sketchbooks, pencils, paints, anything else you liked to used, scattered around the room in an organised chaos.

As Michael moved around the house he would find more of your works he would find.

Normally Michael didn’t care about the hobbies of his victims, or of anyone for that matter, but this was interesting.

All of your paintings were...morbid, for the lack of a better word.

All your works seemed to portray blood and gore, massacres and death, violence and chaos. All the things that normally made people uncomfortable, you used it in your art.

Now Michael was genuinely curious about you.

He even found himself picking up one of your sketchbooks and flipping through it, curious about the rest of your work. It all had similar themes.

Placing the book down, Michael slipped back out of the house only moments before you returned.

He started to watch you more, wondering about you.

Why did these things interest you? Did you find some sort of positive emotion from them or are you interested in how uncomfortable they make people? Is there a sick part of you that is just fascinated by it? How much real life experience do you have with the macabre? 

How would you react to real gore? If you were to be presented with one of the scenes you painted but in the flesh? Would you run or would you be just as interested?

Perhaps what he was starting to ask himself was...how would you react to him?

You must have known who he was and what he’s done, since the information had been disclosed when you bought the house. Was he part of the reason you purchased the house in the first place?

He just couldn’t help but wonder about you.

There was still so much to learn, so he would just watch you for a little longer.

Slowly getting closer to you, getting more confident with his ‘visits’. He’d be in the living room while you slept upstairs, looking at your latest works.

You had started to notices that various painting and sketches where getting moved around. At first you thought you were just misplacing things, maybe you needed to take a break, but now you were starting to think that something else was going on.

You were living in the Myers house, the house where the Shadow of Haddonfield once lived. You couldn’t help but let it effect your work, some pieces being inspired by Michael Myers himself. You just couldn’t help it.

You knew it was insensitive considering the tragedy he had brought to the town but nobody had to see them, these pieces were just for you.

Those pieces also happened to be Michael’s favourites, one might have even gone ‘missing’.

These were even more interesting to Michael, that you had taken inspiration from him for your art.

You’re just so...interesting.

Yes, Michael is starting to like you. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that you bought and moved into his house. 

Perhaps he’d have to let you meet the inspiration for these newest pieces sometimes. 

Hopefully you won’t react so bad that he’ll have to kill you, that would be a real shame.

Brahms Heelshire

The thought of somebody actually buying his house infuriated Brahms but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Maybe he could just dispose of you and make it look like a home invasion?

This was his home after all.

Yes, it might have been getting boring up in the house all alone but it was better than having strangers live there. People he didn’t know or trust.

But it was only one person, only you, so it wasn’t the end of the world even if it was starting to feel like it.

When you arrived, you moved your stuff in but didn’t move anything out. Which Brahms silently appreciated.

You actually seemed fond of the furniture that was already in the house, just cleaning it up properly instead of getting rid of it.

The first week consisted of you getting settled and Brahms just watching.

You moved your belongings in, claiming the largest bedroom as your own and personalising it some more.

Alright...he could live with that.

You had stepped into the child’s room and frowned to yourself. You knew the past of the house, it had been disclosed when you bought it (it had also been the reason you got such a good deal), and it just felt wrong to disturb the room.

For now you would leave it, and Brahms was happy about that. Maybe you wouldn’t be so bad, you would at least keep the house clean...so...you’re alright for now.

But then you started moving around the furniture in the living room. It was the largest, brightest, and most open space, and you thought it would be perfect for your studio.

Brahms didn’t like the changes you were making.

You still weren’t getting rid of anything, just moving it out of the way to give you more space and to make sure you didn’t stain any of it.

Then you set up your art supplies, even having some time that evening to continue with a painting you had started just before moving in.

That night, after you went to sleep, Brahms crept out of the walls to investigate some more.

He moved around the lounge quietly, examining the new stuff you had brought in.

It was all art stuff. You were an artist...well, at least that is interesting.

But as Brahms examined the piece he had seen you working on that evening, he realised that maybe it wasn’t quite the type of painting he had expected.

It was all just so...morbid...

Gore and blood, death and destruction. It made him cringe a little.

But you were very talented...he had to admit that.

He spent all night going through your art, finding that they all had similar themes. All morbid. 

He couldn’t help but wonder why...what about all this awful stuff interested you and kept inspiring you? 

It was supposed to make people uncomfortable but apparently not you, you welcomed it in your art. How very intriguing.

He started watching you for a different reason after that. His cautiousness turning into curiosity.

You didn’t seem...bad.

You didn’t seem like you would enjoy that stuff. 

In fact, he often saw you smiling softly to yourself, sometimes even humming. 

You hadn’t touched his childhood bedroom because you had felt empathy for the family and their past. 

You had been polite and kind to the men who helped you move your belongings.

And he admittedly thought it was cute when you would get a smudge of paint on your cheek without noticing.

How could somebody who seemed so sweet and so normal, create such morbid art?

He supposed it was a little interesting though.

He’d keep you around for a while...just to learn more, that’s all.

He noticed that you kept the portrait of himself and his parents up. He didn’t know why. Maybe you respected the art, maybe you respected the family that once owned the house and didn’t take it down for the same reason you left his bedroom untouched.

Either way, he appreciated it. And it made him all the more confused as to why your art focused on such dark subjects.

You’d been living there for a few months now.

You noticed some weird things happening. Things moving around or going missing, mostly your belongings or smaller pieces of art.

Some items would show back up out of nowhere, making you even more curious as too where they had disappeared too.

Brahms continued to watch you, liking you much more than he did when you first arrived.

He saw how you were confused by the occurrences around the house but you didn’t seem scared and you never ran away.

That was a good sign.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too much longer before he let you know that you actually had a housemate this whole time.

Billy Lenz

Once again, of course you know the history of the house. At least you knew that it used to be a sorority house, where numerous young women were murdered.

And yet you still bought the house, perhaps against your better judgement.

Billy actually isn’t that mad about somebody buying the house. It’s just the next person he can mess with.

Would probably be more annoyed if a family were to move into the house but it’s just you so he’ll be fine.

He sees you a soon as you step through the door, deciding that he found you attractive and deciding that this was going to be fun.

It could get lonely being all alone in the house all day.

It was nice to have a new face around.

He decided to let you settle in before making his first phone call. He would learn about you secretly before making that call, that would be best.

He didn’t want to scare you too soon and make you run away.

You took about a week to move in your belongings, clean the house and make it your own.

You found the largest, most open room that let in the most natural light and made that your studio. Spending most of your attention on that task, setting it up just as you wanted it.

Billy had perked up a little when he realised that you were an artist. At least you should be entertaining!

The house was already looking better than it had for a while. He was almost impressed.

He liked watching you paint, even if he couldn’t see what you were painting from this angle. You looked so calm when you painted and that calmed him to some extent.

One night, when you were sleeping, Billy crept down into your studio and got himself a closer look.

Your art was definitely...shocking.

From how nice you had seemed over the last week, Billy hadn’t expected your art to be so dark and morbid.

Don’t people usually paint flowers or fruit or something? Well...this certainly isn’t flowers or fruits.

And Billy didn’t know how to react.

But he did spend the night looking through your work, eventually falling asleep in your studio and having to hurry up to the attic once the sun started to rise before you woke up and found him.

He spent the whole day watching you, just learning more about you.

He decided to put off making the first phone call because now he was even more curious about you.

Eventually that call came though.

The phone rang and you answered it, only to be met by the sound of somebody moving around. You couldn’t really make it out the sounds.

But then you managed to make out a few actual sounds. There was a voice but you couldn’t really make out what he was saying and then...was that a moan?

You just told him he got the wrong number before hanging up.

Over the next few weeks you received some more calls. Just some perv, nothing to worry about too much.

But then you got a call from the same perv, you were used to it by now. You just carried on painting as you listened to his mostly unintelligible ranting.

You froze with his question, the only clear thing you could make out fully. “Why do you paint that stuff?” but he hung up before you could answer.

So...this man could see you?

You were suddenly reminded of the smaller sketches you did that had randomly gone missing. Had this man taken it?

You remembered him muttering the name “Billy” once or twice so you took it that was his name.

So you dedicated a piece to him, leaving it on the easel that night for him to see.

The next morning you headed down stairs to find it missing, meaning that he had accepted your gift.

You were interested in the man who had been watching you.

And Billy was even more interested in you. 

It was a large house for one person but you tried to explore every inch of it, finally getting to the attic that you had been avoiding. You just though it would be dusty and neglected but you wondered if you could find anything interesting up there.

It didn’t take much looking around before you came across a pile of blankets and pillows, beside them a phone and the painted you had gifted your stalker.

Then it hit you.

This is where the man on the phone, Billy, had been staying and calling from. He had been in the house the whole time, hiding in the attic during the day.

Just as you were processing this realisation, you heard a door close downstairs.

Guess it’s time to meet the man behind all those creepy phone calls. Maybe another gift would encourage him to take mercy on you?

[kyotakumrau]

2020.12.18 The World You Live In at Zepp Namba, 1st event report

I arrived with friends past 1:15 (door time), but lettings fans in here was very smooth. And there were leaflets for sukekiyo's January shows/MADARA and Dirt waiting for us on our seats.

After the interview, live footage and music videos, staff brought two long tables on the stage with 4 chairs. Fujieda again started with greetings and introduced himself and Takabayashi, and finally asked the audience for the applause for the band members as they come on stage.

Kaoru and Kyo came then.

Kaoru wore all black, jacket, glasses.

Kyo had green hair (same as for the a knot calendar photo session), shocking pink jacket, washed denim, pink socks and white trainers. He wore sunglasses.

They both introduced themselves with simple '薫です' and '京です' but I love how different it sounded for both of them.

Fujieda again talked first about the live footage from March. Kaoru commented that with the document it was really busy. For Kyo it felt that the staff, especially the staff under the stage was restless, moving a lot, but he himself just came and sang.

Next, Fujieda outlined the events in 2020 like he did in Nagoya, he asked if they watched the audiostreams.

Kyo: Yes, I watched all of them.

F: and then yours came last.

Kyo: I could really feel member's personality showing there.

Ka: how was the order out setlists came out decided? Was it after we submitted our setlists?

Takabayashi said that no.

Next Fujieda continued with the 2020 timeline and asked about what they can remember from the Pia VIP meetings.

Ka: I thought that Mr.Higuchi was really nervous interviewing all five of us at the same time.

Kyo: first day the atmosphere was so gloom it felt like a funeral.

After that they moved to the topic of Ochita single, F sked them about filming.

Ka: it finished so quickly, in an instant!

F: did you also feel it went by very quickly, Kyo?

Kyo: not that, there was something else. When filming we were working with a new director. For the first time, I got praised when shooting. Like only 5 minutes passed but he was all 'that's great! yes! very cool!'. Huh? What was that supposed to be? Being told that so much wasn't it too much? And then he had some issue with equipment and asked to go again. When the director saw my costume first he also went 'huh wow!' And the place was so narrow.

After that they moved to the merch items for this events. F passed them their own items and Kyo just kept holding the choker, almost like being frozen.

Meanwhile Kaoru said that there's no special meaning behind deciding to produce the pouch. Then, Kyo, asked about the choker, reacted.

Kyo: isn't this super cool?

(and then again)

Kyo: it's seriously cool. It's super cool. ...it's super cool. ...it's super cool.

(all the time just holding and looking at it)

F: about the embossing?

Kyo: not that, it's just super cool.

Agreed😆🖤

Then F announced they will move to the part with questions from fans. He divided the question sheets and passed them to everyone. But Kyo just kept moving to the next page, next page, next page...

F (trying to avoid silence😂): there were many questions on similar topics, I grouped some of them, many people asked about a movie you saw recently, movie you enjoyed.

Ka: I saw 'Hansekai', a Japanese movie.

Kyo: (after a moment) I watched 'Videodrome'.

He told us a bit about the plot, that you start questioning there what is real when watching. He said it's an older movie, and I didn't catch it but there was some connection with Robocop? He said he's also watching 'Friends' and Netflix's 'Dracula'.

After that Kaoru read a question from a fan: 'F seems to be really loved by all members and staff, but can you tell us how do you actually feel about him?'

Ta kept it cool just saying F is his kohai (younger friend/colleague). Kaoru, too, said that F is cool. But then it was time for Kyo ('s rant)🤣

Kyo: I would like to say you're cool, but there are those things I told you you should try to work on. You say you can eat anything, that's okay, but the way you eat is just, too eager (talking about his eating manners), you're even biting your lips, you also ask me about things when you don't really care, and then you reply with 'yeah yeah'. Don't do it. Saying 'yeah' once is fine, but saying 'yeah yeah' is too much.

(possibly didn't get it all xD)

F: I'll be careful. ...any questions you'd like to read?

Kyo (just kept moving on to the next paper, next question, next, next): nothing good.

Kaoru to the rescue picked a question, but had comments.

Ka: 'I'm moving the day after tomorrow and I'm curious bout the life with many people together (in a big group). How is it when you have to stay together?' Is there a connection between this and moving?

He talked about touring abroad and spending time together in a bus, but they just go to sleep soon. But there are more chances to talk before the shows.

Ta: 'can you recommend us any good restaurants in Osaka?'

nothing from the band members besides heavy thinking😂

Ta: 'which do you like better, takoyaki or okonomiyaki?'

Ka: I like both, but I don't eat them much. Monja(yaki) is better though.

Kyo: Monja is good, but choboyaki, from Kyoto, is the best.

Ta: I like both.

F: I eat everything. But abroad it's more difficult.

Kyo: ...the kebab chicken story.

He told us about the time when they were touring, he always stays on the bus so he would ask a roadie to go get him something to eat. He was thinking about eating McDonalds, but then F suddenly said 'let's do kebab!'. After F said that it's not like he could say he wanted McDonalds.

F laughed but got scolded by Kyo.

Kyo: I told you not to laugh like that! Like just a moment ago!

😂

Kaoru brought up that they played at Osaka Jo Hall on this day in the past. They talked about some trouble they had and the venue staff being angry at them.

Kyo: I don't remember anything from that day. I deleted it from my memory.

F: but you chose I'll and Zan for your audiostream.

Kyo: I wanted to do it for my setlist. But then I saw on twitter few fans wrote they want me to do it, I got upset and almost changed it. Almost. In the end nowadays it's something we wouldn't do.

Ta: 'anything you're into now fashionwise?'

Kao (after thinking): nothing really. ...but I'm not wearing socks today.

F stood up to check.

Kyo: You're THAT interested???

F: just wanted to see what it looks like.

Kyo: that's really weird.

F: 'what's the 'fashion point' for you today (the main idea of your look)?

Kyo: well, what do you think?

F: pink?

Kyo: the whole outfit, you're dead!😂

F: ...but even your socks are pink?

Kyo: you really think pink is the main idea?  Look at my hair, green, I couldn't wear this outfit if I had black hair. It's about total balance! You're really a weird one.

all the love😂

F: 'winter is a nabe season, so what is your favorite nabe?'

Ka ...talked a lot about different types of nabe to make at home.

Kyo: nothing in particular.

F: what nabe do you want to eat now?

Kyo: what do you think?

F: k...kimchi nabe?

Kyo: I was going to say you're dead if you say something else than kimchi nabe.

F (laughing): I got it right?? But I wanted to hear I'm dead😂

Ta: I like chanko nabe.

Ta: 'what's your favorite tea?'

Ka: don't know, I drink a lot of jasmin tea, but I just buy it in a bottle.

Kyo: any tea is okay.

F: I drink Tokucha (for dieting benefits)

(there's one question here when I zoned out) *found my missing bit: there was a question about the name for their fans, toriko. It came from a poster of Die from MACABRE era, fully dressed up, it said 'I'll make you into my slave'.

F: 'what's your favorite alcohol?'

Ka: wine, Napa Valley, I think I talked about it with Mr.Higuchi (at the Pia VIP meeting).

Kyo: I don't really drink now.

He said he used to buy some stuff to make drinks, cocktails, but doesn't drink now.

F: 'what's the most fun moment or something interesting you've done recently?'

Ka: so we've never played here before, at Zepp Namba. When we arrived we talked together in the dressing room. It was nice to have a chance to chat.

Kyo: same really.

Next, F talked about the additional streamed event and the filming.

Ka told us he felt funny when filming (with motion capture) because one of the sensors to record his movement was exactly where he usually plays the guitar so he had to hold the guitar a bit higher than normal (he showed us how it looked and it was quite funny).

Kyo said that when he was filming, and he went second, Die was first, they had to wear costumes like a Mojimoji-kun (like a black skin tight onesie), he felt Die looked much better, and it really made him feel bad, that his style was too 'minimal'. He felt shocked and didn't really like the filming.

F asked everyone to join them on New Year's Eve and next asked band members for the last comments.

Kaoru: We're not able to do concerts and it's very difficult now to gather together like this, so I'm really grateful you all came. We're thinking a lot about what we can do next year.

Kyo: It must have been difficult to come here today, I'm sorry. And 'おおきに・ookini・thank you/sorry for the trouble.

F: oh sudden Kansai dialect.

Kyo: I'm from Kansai.

F: It's fine if Kansai person uses Kansai dialect.

Kyo (turned to fans again): ookini.

Kyo waved to the audience, then they stood up and stood looking at fans a bit, bowed and finally left.

(unfortunatelly I only went to the 1st slot, but might dedicate my time on the train to Sendai tomorrow to collect some bits from twitter!)

[lavenderboneswrites]

it’s me, kitty 🥺

👉🏻👈🏻 Shizuo and Izaya having a self care day?

they try face masks, watch movies, do their nails, eat junk food, anything that comes to your mind 🥰

Maybe they even have a bubble bath together 👀👀

I LOVE YOU BB YOURE THE BEST 💖💖💖💖💘💘💘🥰🥰🥰

Of course my beloved got her request in first <3 <3 I hope you enjoy it bb, I tried to fit as much as your fav tropes in as I possibly could. Thank you for always supporting me and letting me share my ideas with you <3 <3

I Feel it Coming

Words: 5352

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut and fluff, shizaya, established relationship, self-care day, possessive Shizuo, light dom/sub (please check AO3 for a comprehensive list of tags)

AO3

When Shizuo gets home Izaya is nowhere to be seen.

It’s been a long day of chasing down debts and deadbeats. Shizuo sighs as he toes off his shoes at the entrance and loosens the clip on bowtie. Making a trail up the stairs and to his bedroom, Shizuo pulls off his vest off along the way. He takes care to hang it gingerly on the hanger behind the door, certain he can get a few more wears out of this one before it needed washing.

He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, loosened buttons showing off a white undershirt and the hint of defined pectorals. Most of the lights in the apartment were on, the bedroom lit by low lamplight. Izaya is obviously around, and yet he normally greets Shizuo boisterously; often from his desk because he’s forgotten to stop working.

Shizuo untucks his shirt, slipping out of his pants and letting white fabric slip below his thighs. He’s thinking he needs a shower, or maybe he’ll just fall straight into bed, but he follows the sound of running water to the en suite.

Izaya really has a ridiculous apartment. His bathroom is off his bedroom, and if you pass through it you’ll find yourself in a large walk-in wardrobe. For someone who only wears the same ugly coat everyday Izaya sure has a lot of clothes. Shizuo’s not complaining, when Izaya wears that cream oversized turtleneck it does things to him.

Shizuo follows the rush of water to the bathroom. Steam clouds the air, mixed with a pleasant floral smell. It’s dark in here, the only light an illumination of candles on the basin and other various other spots. Water is filling the bath, a mix of bubbles and rose petals on the surface. Heated tiles warm Shizuo’s feet and he can’t help but feel the tension of the day lifting slightly at the relaxing atmosphere.

Until he almost has a heart attack.

Standing in the entrance to the wardrobe is a man with a white mask over his face.

Shizuo stumbles back, heart racing a million miles an hour as the figure emerges from the dark.

“What the fuck!?”

Shizuo clutches his hand in his shirt as he tries to force his rabbiting heart to calm down.

“You look like a fucking serial killer!”

He’s still trying to calm down from the shock as the masked man attempts a grin.

“Welcome home to you too, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya’s dressed in a maroon bathrobe and on his face is one of those stupid beauty masks he loves so much. Though, the serial killer look is slightly dampened by the fluffy white headband with cat ears Izaya wears to keep his hair back.

Izaya slinks up to him, arms going to wrap around his neck and Shizuo’s hands automatically go to his waist. It’s almost like a pavlovian response at this point.

“I’m not kissing you when you look like this,” Shizuo grumbles out to which Izaya replies with only a chuckle.

It’s disconcerting. The mask has holes for his mouth and eyes, and a slit for his nostrils, but other than that he looks completely macabre.

Shizuo ignores his own words when he allows Izaya to place a small peck on his lips.

“What’s all this?” Shizuo asks, rubbing circles into Izaya’s hips absentmindedly.

“Mm?” Izaya makes his usual noncommittal noise. “I thought Shizu-chan would like some pampering after a long day at work.”

Honestly, that sounds absolutely wonderful to Shizuo right about now. He eyes the bath off, noticing two glasses of lemon and mint infused water on the hob next to it. No doubt one of Izaya’s own ‘self-care’ creations.

Izaya doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive and a sprinkling of manipulation, Shizuo thinks with his eyes narrowing back to his currently psychotic looking boyfriend.

“What’s the catch?”

“My, my … can’t I just be doing something nice for my boyfriend?”

“No,” Shizuo deadpans back to Izaya’s fake as shit voice.

He attempts to pout, but he can’t move his face muscles well without messing up the mask.

“Boo Shizu-chan, you’re no fun.”

“And you’re a pest,” Shizuo says as Izaya hangs off him like some sort of dramatic leach.

Izaya leans his head back, giving an over top groan as if Shizuo’s inability to react in the way he wants is his greatest annoyance.

“Come on,” Shizuo leans closer, mouth almost touching skin as he whispers low into his ear. “The sooner you tell me what you want the sooner you’ll get it, flea.”

Shizuo can feel the way the body in his arms tenses up momentarily, almost like a shiver going through him from the low tenor of Shizuo’s voice. Really, Izaya was pretty easy to handle once he learnt a few tricks.

One being that he was an incredibly horny fleabag.

Izaya is sliding his hands down Shizuo’s back, sweeping over the curve of his ass as he finds the hem of Shizuo’s shirt. He runs his fingers along the seam before sneaking under white fabric to press at his upper thigh.

“Hmm,” Shizuo pulls back to find copper eyes among a sea of white. Izaya’s hands on his skin are slightly distracting and just a little bit ticklish. “I want Shizuo to do a face-mask with me.”

“And?” Shizuo presses, digging the points of his thumbs into Izaya’s hips lightly.

“And have a bubble bath.”

Shizuo just pulls Izaya closer, pressing a swift kiss the crown of his head. “Alright louse, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Shizuo has a quick rinse off in the shower, afterwards changing into the navy bathrobe Izaya had brought to match his. It feels good to wash away the remnants of a long day, water beating down on his shoulders almost like a massage. Izaya’s shower had out of this world water pressure, honestly Shizuo was in love.

One face-mask later and the bath has finished filling. Steam is coming off the water, and Shizuo knows it’s still way too hot for either of them to get in. Though Izaya will probably try to early like always. He really was like some cold-blooded reptile, always trying to soak up as much heat as possible … usually from Shizuo himself.

Shizuo lets Izaya put his mask on. It was the best choice, considering the wet paper like cloth needed delicate handling and Shizuo would no doubt rip it immediately with his ‘monster’s paws’, as Izaya had said. He made sure to smack at Izaya with his monster paws for that comment.

The mask isn’t horrible. It’s wet and his vision is kind of obscured, and he doesn’t think it fits properly cause one side keeps curling down at his temple. Izaya had given him his own kitty ear headband to hold his fringe back, and the louse pesters him to take a few selfies together. Shizuo can’t help but snort at how ridiculous they look, kind of like a mannequin had a baby with a hockey mask.

They sit on the edge of the bathtub next to each other, sipping their drinks the best they can with the masks in the way. Shizuo eventually gets fed up and rips the sliver of paper between his nostrils and upper lip and Izaya almost chokes on his stupid lemon water laughing.

It’s cute.

It’s nice to just sit and talk, to take stock of each other’s day and catch up. Izaya plays footsies with him the entire time, and at one point Shizuo almost falls backwards into the bath trying to capture the louse’s calf between his feet.

Izaya’s hand is also rubbing once again against his thigh, sliding up under the material of his bathrobe. He massages his fingers into the muscles, pressing with precision into the knots hard enough to make Shizuo groan.

Izaya has a thing for his thighs. Shizuo doesn’t know why, but something about them makes the little pest go feral. They are thick and muscular, almost double the width of Izaya’s own legs and even if Shizuo didn’t see the appeal himself he’s happy to let Izaya have his fun.

Watching Izaya fuck himself against only his bare thigh really was a sight to behold.

After about ten minutes the face masks come off. Shizuo never could keep them on as long as Izaya; after a while it started to get too annoying and almost itchy. Still, Shizuo would be lying if he said it didn’t feel completely satisfying pealing the paper away from his skin.

He scrunches the mask into a ball, using it to rub the excess moisture of his face. Izaya folds his own mask much more neatly, leaning towards the mirror to inspect his skin as he wipes away any remaining excess.

Like every inch of that skin wasn’t flawless to begin with.

Shizuo rubs at his cheek, taking in how soft the mask has left his skin. He wasn’t that into self-care like Izaya was, but even he couldn’t deny these masks were magical.

Better was Izaya skin, which normally soft to the touch, became like silk under Shizuo’s fingertips. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, from cupping the flea’s cheek and rubbing his thumb against ivory skin.

It’s nice to finally see his unobscured face.

“Hey,” Shizuo’s turning that his to meet lips like satin in a soft kiss.

Izaya lets Shizuo set the pace to something slow and unhurried. He parts his mouth, tongue licking at the seam of Izaya’s lips before the other is turning to let him deepen the kiss further.

Shizuo licks into that wicked mouth with a careful consideration, letting Izaya’s taste flood over his tongue. There’s a hand twisting into the back of his hair and another once more kneading the flesh of his thigh.

Shizuo breaks the kiss slowly, dazzlingly eyes of whiskey alight with muted heat blinking softly back up at him.

“I’m home, Izaya.”

Izaya grins at the domestic phrase, rubs his nose against Shizuo’s and the little kiss is so cute that Shizuo can feel the tips of his ears go red.

“Welcome home, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya breath is like a whisper over his lips and Shizuo can’t help but mirror his smirk with a grin of his own.

Shizuo slips into the bath by himself, letting out a groan as the heat immediately relaxes the muscles in his back. It’s still way too hot. So hot that he can’t help but shiver, heat skittering almost painfully over sensitive nerve endings. And yet it feels like heaven, all of the tension flooding out of his body after a long day. He closes his eyes, letting his head lie back on the hob as he just soaks in the moment.

The patter of feet signal Izaya’s return. Shizuo opens one eye to see him standing before him with those same kitty ears and nothing else.

Izaya’s body is stunning. He’s lean and long limbed, but there’s a subtle grace to the way he holds himself. Shizuo always thinks of him as some kind of jungle panther. Light-footed. Slinking around like a predator. His waist is slim, and yet there is slight definition around his muscles, and his ass-, shit, his ass is a gift from God. Chasing the flea all those years had definitely paid off for him; and Shizuo was happy to enjoy the spoils too.

Izaya places a hand to Shizuo’s bicep as he steadies himself and steps into the water. Shizuo’s arm comes up to the small of his back automatically, ready to catch him at the first sign of a slip, but knowing Izaya it wasn’t necessary.

The flea slips into the space between Shizuo’s parted legs and leans back against his muscled chest. He lets out a little sigh as he submerges himself into the water up to his shoulders, obviously enjoying the heat sinking deep into his body just as Shizuo had. The noise is nice, something breathless and almost non-existent, something Shizuo is so attuned to he thinks he can almost hear it in his head rather than any physical sound.

Izaya’s leans his head back against his shoulder and Shizuo can’t help but wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him tighter against his front.

Izaya body fits perfectly against his, and not for the first time Shizuo is certain that flea was made for him.

The candles flicker with steam, and Shizuo thinks he could fall asleep right here and now.

Fwua!

A loud slapping sound breaks through his peace and Shizuo can feel giggles vibrating through Izaya’s back.

Opening his eyes again, Shizuo is met with the sight of Izaya scooping bubbles into his hands. He smacks them together quickly, the bubbles exploding into the air with his delighted giggles.

It’s too fucking cute.

“What are you, four?”

Izaya answers by twisting his neck to look over at Shizuo, a hand of foam raised and Shizuo’s barely has time to raise an eyebrow before bubbles are being blown into his face.

“Oi,” Shizuo hacks a cough, swallowing a great deal more soap than he ever wanted to. His eye twitches at the cheeky look in Izaya’s eyes and his grouchy tone really doesn’t match his own fond smile.

“Do you want me to drown you in this tub?”

Izaya pouts, “Shizu-chan don’t be mean.”

The pout cracks as his lips twitch up at the corners. Water splashes, the flea suddenly turning around fully and scooping up more bubbles.

“Shizu-chan let’s make you a bubble beard.”

“Haaah?”

“Haaah?” Izaya mocks, “come on old man.”

“I’m younger than you,” Shizuo quips back, trying to grab skinny wrists that keep trying to slap foam to his chin.

Wasn’t this supposed to be relaxing!?

Izaya’s attempts don’t ease up and he giggles as a ball of bubbles land delicately on Shizuo’s nose.

He narrows his eyes at his nose, as if the bubbles have personally offended him, and before Izaya can even get a yelp out Shizuo is shoving his head underwater.

Water goes over the sides of the tub and Izaya’s arms splash comically as Shizuo’s entire palm covers the crown of his head. He only gives it a few seconds before he lets up.

Izaya pops back up, hair sopping and stuck to his forehead as his kitty headband hangs pathetically around his neck. He splutters and coughs, attempting to glare at Shizuo as he rubs at his eyes.

Shizuo only gives a cocky raise of one eyebrow, as if to say ‘you started it’.

“Did you just try to drown me?” Izaya asks, his outrage fake as shit.

“You wanna go back under?” Shizuo threatens, but the tone is ruined by his wide smile.

Izaya grins, one shoulder coming up in a half-hearted shrug. He pulls off the headband around his neck, pouting at the state it’s in before flinging it over the side of the tub to the floor.

A glint flashes in Izaya’s eyes. It’s the only warning Shizuo gets before two hands are pressing down onto his head.

Shizuo plants his feet firmly on the bottom of the tub to stop from sliding, and Izaya’s wicked looked turns disappointed as Shizuo doesn’t budge an inch.

“Oi.”

Izaya’s eyes narrow into a look of determination, and he even gets to his knees as he tries to add even more force to Shizuo’s head.

“Why, won’t, you, die?”

Shizuo answers by letting himself suddenly slip under the water. The sudden loss of purchase has Izaya floundering and Shizuo swears he can hear him yelp through water.

Shizuo almost swallows an obscene amount of bath water from laughing before he pops back up. Izaya has slumped atop of him, arms around his neck as he holds his own head above water as if to keep himself from completely submerging.

Shizuo likes that. The way Izaya will always grab onto him, cling to him, whenever he loses his footing.

“Shizu-chan is so mean. Jail for a thousand years!”

Shizuo just chuckles, pushing Izaya’s fringe away from his forehead as he looks at him. He’s doing the face Shizuo loves, the one where his nose scrunches up oh so cutely. Shizuo loves that face, he wants to hoard it all to himself and never let anyone else see it.

If it got out Izaya was this cute Shizuo’s sure he’d have to beat off interested parties with a sick.

Mine.

Shizuo sits himself up, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his hair. Izaya squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t let go. Instead he manhandles the flea back into the same position they started in, with his back pressed to Shizuo’s chest, sitting between his legs.

There, Shizuo thinks triumphantly, Izaya’s wriggling getting less and less by the minute. He squeezes his thighs around the flea’s hips, wrapping his legs over the top of Izaya’s until he’s practically in a joint lock.

He’s really no match for Shizuo’s superior strength when it comes down to it. Still, it didn’t stop Izaya from trying to wrestle him daily.

“Have you calmed down you damn water rat?”

“Hmm,” Izaya hums as if he has no idea what Shizuo’s talking about. “Shouldn’t I be a water flea? Shizu-chan don’t you know it’s bad to mix metaphors?”

Shizuo just snorts at such a bratty response.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Izaya relents and relaxes back into his body and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against the back of his neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” Shizuo snorts into his skin, and he doesn’t need to see to know that Izaya is smirking.

He lets his lips and hands do the rest of the talking. Soft kisses trailing from Izaya’s neck to his shoulder and back again. He rubs his hands at the flea’s sides, making a path up and down slowly as he maps out every inch of creamy skin.

Izaya makes that soundless noise again, lips parted slightly as closes his eyes, focusing on sensation of Shizuo’s hands and lips on him. Shizuo’s touch is light, almost ticklish as he brushes fingertips across Izaya’s ribs, the water turning his path slick and easy.

Shizuo kisses are barely a press of lips to skin, so soft that it’s only the feel of his breath blowing out that makes Izaya’s skin erupt into goosebumps. Shizuo watches fascinated as that alabaster skin reacts before his very eyes.

Izaya’s got the faintest of freckles splayed across his shoulders, almost impossible to see unless this close. Shizuo loves to pick out each individual mark, a constellation of stars for his mouth to trace and follow. To worship and pay tribute to.

Shizuo rubs his hands from Izaya’s sides down to his hips, thighs, and back up again to his waist. Every time he trails down he moves a little bit further. Inch by torturous inch he teases skin until Izaya starts to squirm a little.

Heh.

Shizuo’s grin is wicked as he presses it under Izaya’s ear. His lips move up to brush against his pulse point and Izaya lifts his chin to allow Shizuo greater access.

Shizuo’s chuckle spills over skin for real and shivers are erupting once more over Izaya’s skin.

“Mmm?” Shizuo whispers a questioning noise, hands dipping past the heated flesh at Izaya’s inner thigh. “You like that flea?”

Izaya does a little jerk of his head, eyes closed and it really is too cute.

“Does it feel good?”

Shizuo breath is hot at his ear before he gives a playful nip to the flesh. He can feel the way Izaya’s breath hitches, the motion going through his back and making Shizuo’s own chest thrum with something primal and satisfied.

Shizuo’s rubbing his foot against Izaya’s calf muscle, feeling the way he squirms at the touch.

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo cheeks actually hurt from how wide he’s smiling. “Do you not like it?”

Izaya’s head shakes, the action almost frantic, and Shizuo rewards him by sliding the flat of his tongue over the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet.

His skin tastes clean and fresh, and Shizuo feels his mouth salivating with the desire to bite into that milky flesh. To see it bruised dark with his claim. He holds off though, content with just feeling Izaya beneath his hands, feeling the way his breathing goes a little faster at every dip closer to that heat between his legs.

“Does it feel good when I touch here?” Shizuo brushes his fingertips over Izaya’s ribs, taking in every little shudder as he whispers into his lover’s ear. “What about when I touch here?”

Shizuo’s hands trail inwards, and Izaya’s lips are parting in a gasp as his knuckles brush against the side of his cock.

“Ah, is there someone you want me to touch you flea?”

Shizuo rubs his fingers between Izaya’s thighs just above his knees, so close and yet so far, if the little whimper that escapes his lips is any indication.

Shizuo feels like an addict. There is just something about having Izaya in his arms, squirming and desperate for his touch and just … taking his time with him.

Dragging it out nice and slow.

Shizuo continues licking and sucking at the flea’s neck. Izaya has his hand trapped between his legs in a vice grip, and yet Shizuo still continues his slow, sweet touches.

He lets his touches turn rougher, digs bruises into pale skin as he sucks harshly on that spot beneath Izaya’s ear; the spot that makes him moan open-mouthed.

“Shizuo.”

His name is like a prayer on Izaya’s lips. Breathless and needy. Shizuo doesn’t know whether he’s begging for him to stop or begging for him to keep going, either way the sound sinks deep into his gut.

“Shizuo please.”

Shizuo’s grin goes impossibly wide, mouth gaping like a predator’s with its prey in its grasp. His lips find Izaya’s earlobe. He pulls the flesh into his mouth and sucks harshly.

It’s a dizzying juxtaposition. Wrenching his hand from Izaya’s thigh-crush, Shizuo grazes the tips of fingers over the head of his cock, the softest, slowest touch all night and it makes Izaya jolt.

“Fuck.”

Shizuo sucks hard at the flea’s neck, finger tips trailing down his shaft and to his navel. He rubs at the soft flesh there, relishing in the annoyed whine that Izaya makes as he moves away from his reddened cock.

“Shizuo,” he can hear the pout in Izaya’s voice.

“Look at you,” Shizuo releases Izaya’s ear with a wet sound, “I haven’t even played with your tits yet and this worked up.”

That whine becomes louder, more painful if possible, as if Izaya’s gritting his teeth together.

“Shizuo you better fucking touch me or I’m going to destroy all your stupid bartender outfits.”

It’s astounding. Izaya’s gripping his wrist so tightly Shizuo’s sure there will be indents of his nails left behind. How is it possible for him to still sound like such a vicious little thing when he’s desperately trying to put Shizuo’s unbudging hand to his leaking cock?

“Oi,” Shizuo growls low and Izaya’s body shivers fully at the sound. “Do you want me to drown you again?”

“Heh,” Izaya lips are quirking up, eyes hooded as he speaks out like silk and satin, “if you drown me there won’t be anyone around to suck your cock.”

Shizuo should’ve expected this. Expected Izaya would try to play dirty.

He was the definition of little brat that needed to be put in their place. Still, the words make his own dick jump, and he can’t help but press his erection harder into the swell of Izaya’s ass in warning.

“Oh?” Shizuo lets his tenor lilt upwards, “you wanna suck my cock that bad flea?”

Izaya snorts, and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against his neck in an overly affectionate gesture.

“Hey Shizu-chan,” Izaya’s turning his face, lips meeting lips in a sweet brush as he releases his death grip on Shizuo’s wrist.

Shizuo stares into dark, deep eyes; lets himself drown as Izaya presses his forehead to his.

“Yeah flea?”

Izaya eyes close, his mouth turning soft as he gives one of those rare smiles reserved just for Shizuo.

Shizuo’s eyes slip close, Izaya in his arms and his breath spilling across his face in a steady rhythm. It’s like an abstract concept become physical, a peace that Shizuo can literally hold within his hands.

Izaya dips his head to Shizuo’s neck, lips against skin as he whispers.

“I want you to tell me how badly I want to suck your cock … while you touch me.”

Shizuo’s eyes blow wide. His smile is going predator-like before he can even realise it.

Izaya was absolutely perfect.

Shizuo pulls Izaya’s body back with his, getting comfortable as Izaya settles himself in against his hold, nuzzling into his neck. Shizuo can’t help but shower his back in soft kisses.

“You want me to talk you through it baby?” Shizuo asks, letting his voice go softer. He’s cock is aching as Izaya shivers at the pet name. He forces it to the back of his mind, focus zeroing in on the body in his arms. “You look so good right now.”

Izaya just sighs and Shizuo rewards him with a kiss to his lips. It’s chaste and sweet, with the promise of something hotter simmering just beneath the surface.

He lets his hands slide through the water and up that irresistible body once more. This time when snakes his hand downwards he palms at Izaya’s cock lightly.

“Aah,” Izaya’s lets out this little moan, relief and pleasure all in one. As if not being touched had been painful, had been torture.

“That feel good? Being touched here?” Shizuo whispers a sonnet against Izaya’s neck. His eyes are wide open, mesmerized as he palms his hand with more force against the flea’s cock.

His hot in his palm, positively boiling compared to the cooling temperate of the water surrounding them. Shizuo enjoys the feel of him in his hands. Hot and heavy. Izaya has a nice cock, it’s long, not as thick as Shizuo’s but it curves nicely and his mouth waters at the sight of it.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock … for such an ugly flea.”

Izaya actually chuckles at the underhanded compliment and Shizuo feels himself flush at the sound.

Izaya was anything but ugly.

Shizuo’s certain even the most wicked of devils would repent at the beauty of his flea.

Mine, mine, mine.

Shizuo lets his touch stay slow and steady, matching his earlier exploration of Izaya’s body. He closes his fist around the shaft experimentally, the water making his slow pull even rougher.

Izaya’s head is thrown fully back onto his shoulder now. Eyes closed as he pants open-mouthed. His hips are doing these cute little jerk, moving in time with Shizuo’s hand, and every brush of his ass against Shizuo’s cock makes him want to groan out loud.

“Look at you, I bet you’re imagining it aren’t you?” Shizuo fists the head of Izaya’s cock with the barest of pressure and the other is whimpering. “My cock in your mouth … the taste of me on your tongue.”

“Ah-ah.”

Shizuo’s pace is increasing, fist going tighter as his words climb higher.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed with my cock, baby,” Shizuo’s whispers are turning harsh in his ears. “God you feel so good around me. So wet.”

Shizuo’s eyes are closing and he can feel it. That warm wet heat enveloping him, almost overwhelming in its sensation.

“You want it so badly don’t you? Tell me how badly you want my cock.”

“Y-yes!” Izaya’s voice comes out high pitched and desperate. “I-, I want your cock … I-I need it.”

Shizuo rubs his hard dick against the crack of Izaya’s ass, in time with the flea’s desperate thrust. His lips are wet and wide against Izaya’s neck, kisses turning careless as he sucks and bites with abandon. Izaya’s body is going taunt in his arms, toes curling against the tub, abdominals clenching so tight it almost looks painful. His body is on the edge of trembling, pulled so tight Shizuo can feel that tension almost about to snap.

“Fuck baby,” Shizuo lets his voice go rough, lets it go needy.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shizuo gives a feral growl, Izaya’s squirming and splashing in his arms as he sets a relentless pace against his cock. Shizuo twists his fist as he pulls up, water sloshing over the sides at his frantic pace. He fists the head tightly, twisting in a way that makes Izaya keen out like he’s been kicked in the gut.

“N-need you, fuck I need you baby.”

“Ah-, ah-, Shizuo!”

Shizuo’s desperation sends Izaya over the edge. The body in his arms tenses, like an electric current is running through it and then he’s shaking apart, moaning long and loud as Shizuo strokes him through his orgasm, never letting up as his cock spurts white into water.

He keeps stroking him. Izaya’s breathing is ragged as he collapses boneless atop Shizuo.

Eventually he slows his motions, letting his hand come to a steady stop as he feels all the little aftershocks shivering through the body in his arms. Izaya’s eyes are closed and Shizuo thinks he might have fucked him stupid.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oi,” Shizuo presses a kiss to Izaya’s temple. “Don’t fall asleep flea.”

Shizuo can’t keep the smile out his voice. He has literal perfection in his arms, had that same perfection coming and calling out his name. His heart feels fit to burst…

His cock definitely is.

“Mm, Shizu-chan is such a sadist,” Izaya finally mumbles a response. He sounds dazed, like he’s intoxicated and on the verge of blacking out.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re such a masochist then, huh?” Shizuo says between kisses to the smattering of stars over Izaya’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Izaya’s eyes are cracking open, staring unseeing at the ceiling as he brushes a hand through the water absentmindedly. “The bath is dirty now.”

Shizuo snorts, “and who made it dirty, louse?”

“Shizu-chan should take responsibility, after all, it’s all his fault,” Izaya quips back, turning to press a smirk into Shizuo’s neck.

“Youbetter take responsibility,” Shizuo grumbles, pressing his still raging erection against Izaya’s backside in case he’d somehow forgotten about it.

Unlikely.

“But I’m tired,” Izaya whines pathetically, and Shizuo half kind of wants to drown him again. “Shizu-chan’s torture was relentless!”

Shizuo chuckles at that, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and into Izaya’s back.

“Surprised you just didn’t slip it in mid torture,” Izaya lilts with his usually vulgarity and yeah Shizuo should definitely drown him.

“Too tired,” Shizuo deadpans, “you do some work flea.”

“Heh, be careful what you wish for Shizu-chan.”

They end up in bed, barely dry as Izaya’s swallows down Shizuo’s cock like a man starving. Shizuo’s exhausted, splayed out on the bed as he hovers blissfully between the edge of sleep and the pleasure of Izaya’s hot mouth wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for him to come. Not long until he’s body is shaking apart and he’s calling Izaya’s name. He trembles as Izaya sucks him dry of every, last, drop.

Shizuo feels hazy, his skin hypersensitive from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He’s drifting off to sleep, Izaya snuggling in beside him and pulling the blanket up.

“Shizu-chan has tomorrow off, right?” Izaya asks innocently, and Shizuo thinks he brushes his hand through the flea’s hair but he’s not quite sure in his half-awake daze.

“Yeah.”

“Will Shizu-chan make me breakfast?”

Shizuo’s eyes are slipping closed again, the sight of Izaya tucked under his arm and snuggling into his neck the last thing he sees.

“Yeah flea,” he’s mumbling in his sleep, “do … anything…”

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (28)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Do you have a favorite season? I love spring and winter. Ah spring... the most beautiful season, where flowers bloom just like love stories. Cherry blossoms... the petals that fall... a romantic movie scene, isn't it? And winter! a cold a little dry certainly ... but that is where we see the thing that amazes children. I'm not talking about Santa Claus, no. I'm talking about... Snow. There's so much you can do with snow! Snowmen, snow angels, snowball fights etc...

The falling snow brings magic to the scenery, the frozen lakes offer an incredible spectacle that allows you to play and fish... if we're careful not to break it. Because I don't know if you've ever tried swimming in a lake where the temperature is... icy, but if you want to fall into hypothermia, this is a good way to get there. but it's a good place to ice skate. If you are good enough then you will have no problem! but if you start then... you'll often hurt. Generally, what inspires you to ice skating are figure skating competitions. Unfortunately, at the moment, it is not winter. So, no ice skating. Or... You have to go to an ice rink. And that's exactly what Melina had planned to relax everyone. Especially Danny.

What put him in a bad mood? The fact that you went out with Melina last night? No no... You have the right to have fun with your friends from time to time. And he sincerely hopes you had a good time! After all, if you ever come to leave Roseville, with him, if possible, you may not be out again for a little while. No, what put our dear Danny in a bad mood is this asshole who tried to charm you at the restaurant. This wretched little bastard had the audacity to come to you, to talk to you, and in addition to touching you? And the whole thing, like he honestly thought it was going to work?

And the worst part of all this was you and Melina made it clear to him that you were already with someone. But that bastard didn't want to know. Danny finds his next victim. Thanks to you, he knows what he looks like, and when he comes into action, Danny won't miss him. No spectacular staging. A hard-line massacre. A Ghostface classic. No one has the right to touch you, even less seduce you. He doesn't know what he just got himself into. Want a good way to know when Danny's angry? Look at his eyes. They are a piercing blue as normal, well when he is angry or when he goes crazy, they are even more piercing. Like the eyes of a cat.

“Jed? Are you...Are you sure you’re alright?”  

Danny came out of his macabre dreams to watch you. Your voice, like a sweet melody to his ears, will give him a smile, his beautiful angel smile.

“Yes, excuse me. I was thinking of something else. Were you talking to me?” He asks, putting his glasses back on his nose.  

“No, I was the one talking to you. I told you not to worry about that asshole last night. We said to him to go f*ck himself, (y/n) and me. And believe me, he was doing one of those faces... he won't forget me.” respond Melina, looking in the rear-view mirror.

“I'm surprised you didn't give him an arm wrench. Or a kick where I think... I'm really surprised!” said Mattew to her with a sneaky smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Like what, you see that I can perfectly behave as a responsible person and act with tact and diplomacy ... before moving on to the offend. But believe me, it's not the desire that I missed. I didn't want to get banned from this restaurant anyway, it would piss me off.”

“Anyway, Melina's right. You don't have to worry about that jerk, Jeddy. It does not reach your ankle I reassure you! You're a lot sexier!” replied Mattew with a wink.

“You know if Chris finds out you said that, he's going to be jealous? but... Thank you Mattew. You're right, I don't have to get in my head for bullshit like that. But is it really necessary to go ice skating? we still have work to do you know...” said Danny. He was not going to take his head for very long, since he intends to kill him. And just that image made him shudder. He was looking forward to it.

“It's going to be good for everyone! and then we'll have fun! Don't be shy! This is not the first time we have done so. Especially you Jed.” respond Melina.  

Indeed, this is not the first time that Danny went ice skating. The Zanesville ice rink is quite large and there are not many people at this time. It's perfect, you're going to have the whole ice rink just for you... for at least two hours. Melina parked in front of the rink entrance and indeed, seen up close she was big. very big.

“How long has it been? Two years? it has not changed in any case .... I wonder if the boss still remembers the falls he took here.” says Mattew before entering, following by the others.  

“Don't worry, I think if you tell him, his lumbar will remember it. And his ass too.” respond Danny who makes you laugh.

Each one your turn, you rent ice skates. And one thing that made Danny laugh was that if he wears 40, you only wear 36. How cute, you have such small feet, in a sense it fits perfectly with your body and size. Everything is small in you. It's cute and it's funny, especially when you react to it. So small, so fragile... And yet a hell of a temper!

The ice rink was practically empty at that time, there was only a couple and two teenagers who visibly didn't have class today. Melina entered the ice first once everyone was ready, and if the start was a little difficult, she quickly took the hand. This was not the case for Mattew, who kept clinging to her every time he was about to fall.

“Have you ever done one? Or would you rather I give you a few classes? It looks like I'm a very good teacher...” said Danny to you with a wink.  

“Really funny Mr Olsen, but before you teach me, I'd like to see if you can last more than ten seconds without finishing your ass on the ice.” you respond with a little laugh.  

“Ok...as you wish miss.” Danny replied with a smile, entering the rink, getting on the ice with a disconcerting ease. “So? Convinced? I am still waiting for an answer to my question.”

“Convinced. and... No. I have never had the opportunity to do it before. So I would need a couple of lessons.” you answer.  

“Ok, first...give me your hand. Trust me, I will not let you go. Promise. I know what it's like to fall your ass first on ice and believe me, it's not pleasant at all.”

Hesitating as you step on to enter the rink, Danny gently taking your hand to bring you back to him. Well, he had to quickly catch up with you in his arms because you were slipping. If the beginning was quite complicated, because Danny had to prevent you from falling several times, after several minutes, you start to take your marks. Little by little Danny let you go and gave you more space. And once he feels you're ready, he let you go completely but stood by you just in case.

“You see! it's not that hard in the end! You're doing very well!” He said with a smile.

“I confirm, you're an excellent teacher! Thank you so much Jed!” you respond, kissing him as he kisses you back.  

Danny left you for a few moments with Melina and Mattew to skate a little on his side. The agility he had, allowed him to move perfectly on the ice. If he wanted to, he could become a skating champion, but he knows the ruthless world of the sport. All shots are allowed. And he cared a little too much about his legs to lose them in an unfortunate "accident". And then be a sportsman and a killer... don't really go together. Fame is a good thing, the problem is that when you are also a murderer, your private life... is no longer as private. Generally, there is always a clever little journalist who hangs around... And as if by chance always at the right time. At least as a journalist, Danny is quiet in his private life.

During these two hours of tranquillity, the whole small group had fun, laughing every time Mattew fell. And when he fell, Danny was always the first to go to him and pick him up. While you and Melina laughed and chatted on your side. Then the crowd began to arrive. It was time to leave because when it has too many people, it's almost impossible to skate without falling, even when we're as good as our dear assassin. So, you leave the rink, return the skates and get out of the building to get back in the car.

“So, this ice christening? it went well to what I see!” Said Melina cheerfully.  

“Speak for yourself! I didn't stop falling to the ground or catching up on the railing!” respond Mattew, a little grumpy.  

“ haaawn poor little Mattew! You'll ask Chris to give you a little massage.... If you know what I mean.”  

“... the worst part is that I know very well that it will end like this, if I ask him for a massage. If I provoke Chris once... he can quickly become wild.”

“You're not going to complain about it... it's better to be like that than not. At least he is more tactile than before. If I remember correctly, he didn't even dare hold your hand for fear of breaking it.” Replied Danny with a little smile.  

“It's true... I'll always remember, he was really too cute.” answer Mattew.  

Melina started the car and drove off towards Roseville. The return trip was more enjoyable. Danny felt a little more relaxed. But he didn't forget the other asshole. And he intends to make him regret his actions in a way... irreversible. A good old-time murder will bring back memories. Like when he slaughtered that bastard Doctor who let Carla die. He hadn't missed him that day... or rather that night. That's where his career in murder began. Because of an asshole.

But the past is the past as they say! It is better to move forward. Melina offered a fast food for lunch, all while landing at the park to enjoy the fresh air before the hot days that will arrive. The whole small group moved the rest of the day to the park, chatting and telling old family anecdotes. Except Danny, of course. He had made a cross on his past with his "parents", it was not to talk about it now. He was free of it now. As the last light of day disappeared to make way for the night sky, Melina took Danny and you back to your building.  

She greeted you both with a wink not to go crazy, to which Danny answered calmly but with a smile not to worry about it. Then both enter the building laughing when they see Mattew's reaction. As you both arrived at your apartment, a noise was heard from inside. After a brief exchange of gaze, Danny took the keys to your apartment from your hands and opened the door cautiously. Lighting the light of the living room, he did not notice anything strange, for the moment.

“We must have been dreaming... Or maybe it came from your home?” you said looking at Danny.

“No. I checked three times before I left. It's all closed. The noise comes from here.” responds Danny before hearing another noise from the kitchen.  

Danny walked quietly to the kitchen, taking something to defend himself. If there’s a thief and he's armed, he's going to spend a bad time too. Arriving in the room, he suddenly turned on the light and raised his arm ready to strike before stopping cleanly in front of the source of all the noise. And this thing emits a very different sound this time.... a meow to be more precise.

“I think we have a little thief in your kitchen.” he said, laying the object he was holding before taking the frightened kitten in his arms.

“Haaawn, poor little guy... How did you get home?” you answer looking at the kitten.  

“Hum... It's a girl. And given the room I would say she came through your window. And visibly she enjoys your cakes. You've got two that's gone.”

“Oh... I had left the window open to let them cool and to prevent the apartment from smelling like bananas... But hey the main thing is that you ate well. You don't look like you have a necklace... I think I'm going to keep you!” you replied caressing the kitten who began to purr.

“You're going to have to plan on feeding her and a basket to sleep in... as well as a litter box, a cat tree... I think there's a pet store in Zanesville that owns it all for a cheap. And then she's going to need a name." responds Danny giving you the kitten.

“I'll see all that tomorrow. With a rested head. In the meantime, I'm going to set up a little corner for you in front of my bed. That way you won't be alone. It's convenient to keep old plaids. They're going to be able to re-serve again.”  

“In that case, I'm going to let you take care of that kitten. I still have a lot of work to do. Maybe tomorrow we'll see each other? If the boss doesn't make us run in the direction.”

You nod before kissing Danny, who kisses you back. Then he left your apartment to go back to his, locking the door. He sighed; it feels good to be at home. Not that he didn't enjoy the day, but since he knew about this guy at the restaurant, he had only one desire: to find him and massacre him. He went to his office to pick up his things. He took the opportunity to look at his hunting board. You can count yourself happy, Hoggins, to have gained extra life time because of the incompetence of the Roseville police officers... For once, and even if it hurt him to admit it, he felt sorry for Inspector Wilhelm. It's not easy to stay calm when you're the only 'smart' person in the whole police station.

He took his bag, and walked out of the building without making any noise. He got in his van and hit the road to the restaurant where you were last night. He parked a little further so as not to be noticed. When that bastard quits his job, Danny will follow him quietly home. It will do as usual, observe, note, analyse. And he'll do it again and again. Until the day it's time for him to meet Ghostface. And that night...

The massacre will begin.

Let’s the countdown begin.  

***

(My little finger says to me that you are 52 people whose following me! From the deepest part of my potato heart, I wanna say thank you to all of you! I never imagine to get so far and please so many people! I hope you will continue to be as numerous or even more numerous! ��I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)

[readyplayerhobi]

My Soul To Reap

; Reaper!Hoseok x Harpy!Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

; Word Count: 31k

; Warnings: Death, violence, mild gore, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie

; Synopsis: A reaper is neither alive nor dead, in this world or the next. Their purpose is to remove the souls of humans and help them pass to the next world. They are not meant to interact with the living for their touch is the ice of the grave and their kiss is to greet death. They are not meant to love.

; A/N: This is a behemoth...sorry it’s so long lol. I hope you all enjoy, I’ve been working on this for over a month now! Please reblog (if you can) so that others can see and read too. Please leave me likes, comments and asks to let me know what you think as I spent so long on it x-x also, remember to check out the other authors in the collab!

; Part of the Fantastical Tales for Curious Souls collab

-

The street is quiet when he appears; the air still and dead around him. Houses of varying shapes and sizes line the well trodden street before him, lamps with flickering flames dancing inside them hanging from poles and houses to light the way. Behind him lies a dense and foreboding forest, their trunks wide and their height tall as they tower over the small town like vigilant sentinels keeping an eternal watch.

But none of that is of particular interest to Hoseok. No, what interests him lies in the ramshackle house in front of him, the facade old with the thatched roof aging badly, threatening to fall through in some places. It wouldn’t be anything special to look at normally, the size and style of it denoting it to be the abode of someone from a lower class.

Hoseok had never understood why humans had such an interest in the cultural standing of others based on social hierarchy and money. It all seemed such a waste of their time to fret over such mundane things. Everyone died poor in the end as no one took anything with them when they passed. He knew that better than anyone.

Yet Hoseok finds he feels almost sad at the house, knowing that it had such an unassuming and unloved life. He wonders for a moment what will become of it before shaking his head, pushing the querying thought out of his mind. The daily lives of mortals were not his domain and therefore they were not of interest to him.

Between one blink and the next, the scenery around Hoseok changes as he shifts through time and reality to appear inside the small home. It’s even smaller on the inside, with a single bed pushed into the corner and a table covered in books to the side. There’s a moment that Hoseok wants to look at them, but he ignores it instead for the human male lying in the bed.

A small sense of relief runs through the reaper as he realises this was a natural death, something that would not be as alarming to the human compared to being murdered or suffering an accident. Over the years, Hoseok had found that humans didn’t react well to being killed, whether on purpose or by accident. Even if it had no bearing on them once they were dead.

But still, it made the process easier.

The siren call of death that guides Hoseok around the world to his intended humans increases now he’s so close, the pull in his veins almost heady as it demands he does his duty. And so he gives in, as he always does, moving over to the male and crouching down beside the ancient bed.

The human’s wrist is warm in Hoseok’s hand, but that doesn’t surprise him. His own body runs somewhere between alive and dead in terms of temperature. It’s a benefit when dealing in scenarios that could potentially cause injury to him. For Hoseok is a reaper, a being who straddles life and death. His job is simple; to take the life of those dying and pull their souls from their bodies before escorting them to the other side. It was macabre, but it was also a necessary part of life.

And this human’s time had come.

Lifting the human’s hand, Hoseok laid his lips on the smooth skin gently and kisses. It was not sexual or romantic, in fact it was the exact opposite. A reaper’s kiss was the kiss of death, the final severing of a soul from life.

He pauses for a second with his lips pressed to the warm skin that is already cooling from his touch before he moves away, looking down at the body with an impassive glance before tugging at the hand. There's a slight resistance, there always is as a soul never wants to leave their body, but he can’t resist the grasp of Hoseok.

His hand falls back to the bed almost unnoticed, for the soul’s hand remains in Hoseok’s own. A gentle pull has the human’s soul standing next to him, looking around in confusion at his surroundings before looking at Hoseok, his brow creasing.

A human would not be able to see him if they looked now, only able to see the dead body lying in the bed. But to Hoseok, he has a silver aura that surrounds him lovingly, signalling that this is someone who has left the mortal realm. 

“What is your name?” Hoseok asks quietly, making sure to keep his tone as warm and pleasant as he can. Death is traumatic for humans, and an unexpected death like this could likely lead to further confusion and possibly even anger despite it being natural. It was better to treat them carefully.

The soul blinks rapidly before frowning. “Jimin. Park Jimin. What…” He looks down at the body on the bed with eyes that widen in fear before he’s crouching, trying to touch the body he had once inhabited desperately. “What is wrong with me? Is this a dream? Why am I there but here?”

Hoseok laid a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, noting the way he cringed away from him slightly but not making comment on it. “Jimin...I am afraid to say that you have passed on from the mortal world. Your soul has left your body and cannot return. I am here to help you move on.”

“What...what do you mean? Who are you? What are you? I have passed...I have truly died?” The questions were common, and Hoseok was pleased with how it seemed that Jimin was not going to be one to argue or try to fight. A soul fighting a reaper never worked out well for the soul.

“Yes, you have died. My name is Hoseok and I am a reaper, your reaper. I ended your life because the Fates have cut your thread and so I pulled your soul from physical body. Now you must move on from here to the other side.” Jimin looks around, slim shoulders curling in to make himself appear smaller.

“What is the other side? Is that heaven? Or hell? Or something else?” Hoseok shrugged in response, the gesture remarkably human for a being who had no humanity.

“I do not know. My job does not involve anything that happens once you have moved on. I am simply meant to get you there.” The soul begins to pace in agitation, running his hand through his hair as his face pinches together in distress.

“But what if I do not want to? Can you make me go if I do not want to go?” Hoseok lets out a deep sigh, lips pursing slightly in annoyance and he only just manages to stop the eye roll. Even though he does not communicate with humans apart from at this moment in their lives, he has managed to pick up on a few of their mannerisms.

Every soul thinks they don’t have to move on, but Hoseok knows that it’s no real life to remain. “I cannot make you go. Moving on is the choice of the soul, but I do not recommend remaining behind. If you do, then you cannot move on until you have completed whatever it is that you feel you need to do. And if you do not complete it...then you can never move on and you will haunt this place forevermore. I would not recommend staying behind simply because you do not want to go.”

His words cause Jimin to pause, and Hoseok isn’t sure whether it’s the grave tone of voice he uses or the words themselves. Whatever it is, the reaper hopes that Jimin will think hard about his choice, because as soon as he leaves this room then he will never see Jimin again.

“Can I...can I leave this house?” His voice is soft and gentle, meek compared to the brief moment of fierceness that he’d given earlier. 

“No. You will be tethered to the place of your death. So think hard Jimin. Once I leave, I shall never come back and you will be forced to try and move on by yourself.” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest, the coal black suit he wears straining slightly on his shoulders. 

There's a pause as Jimin thinks, his eyes tracing over the reaper slowly. No doubt he’ll see what every other soul sees; ink black hair swept off his forehead carelessly, a beautiful and statuesque face that almost glows gold in the light of the frozen fire and a black suit that clings to him. He probably looks like a normal human, if it wasn’t for his eyes.

Hoseok’s eyes are pale, a colour between ice blue and dove grey that glows almost white from the unearthly energy he channels. He could never pass as a human with his eyes.

“I will go. I do not...I do not want to be alone forever,” He pauses, looking frightened before gesturing back towards his body, trying to avoid looking at it understandably. “What will happen to my body?”

“It will be found when it is found. That is not my concern, nor should it be yours now. Are you ready to move on?” His voice takes on an abruptly formal tone, standing straight and almost smiling as Jimin does that same for some reason. The soul nods hesitantly before doing so again, more forcefully this time.

“Yes. I mean...no...but it does not matter. Th-thank you...Hoseok. Sir.” With that, Hoseok gestures to his side and the space ripples, the imagery behind it blurring as reality tears on itself. The room grows colder and Hoseok is positive that if Jimin were still alive, his face would pale further. But he doesn’t complain, and instead just looks at Hoseok for reassurance.

“I cannot guarantee you will be okay. But nor can I guarantee you will not. This is for you to discover Park Jimin. I wish you will with whatever happens.” Jimin swallows thickly, blinking a few times before nodding. He hesitates a moment longer before taking a deep breath, that he didn’t anymore, and walking through the gap. 

Instantly it slams shut, the force reverberating in Hoseok’s bones and he feels the welcome satisfaction of warmth inside as the death calls recedes finally, letting him know that he has done his job and can leave. Within the space of a breath, he vanishes from the small house and re-appears on the street outside.

Looking back at the dilapidated house, Hoseok sighs deeply and hopes that Jimin’s body will be found quickly before letting go of his power that is holding the world frozen in place. All at once, life returns around him, even though he cannot hear or see much due to the darkness of the night. It had taken less than five minutes for him to complete his job and he felt a sense of satisfaction.

Hoseok’s job was done, and he was free to roam once more until he felt the call of death again. It could be considered a numbing experience, but he had nothing else to compare it to and so simply accepted it as his way of life.

A strong and insistent tugging in his stomach caused him to pause in place though, the part that connects him to death telling him that his services are needed once again. Frowning, he looks to his left at the towering trees as their branches sway gently in the night breeze, leaves rustling quietly.

The pull is strong and insistent, and it’s coming from inside the forest. It’s unusual for him to be required so soon after a reaping, but he can only assume that it’s because he’s so close. Either way, he knows that he must do his duty and so closes his eyes, pulling at the cold, deadly power within him and travelling along that pull to his destination.

When his eyes open once more, not even a second later, he’s at the scene of another death. Only this one causes his brow to furrow in confusion as he takes in what’s happening around him. The ancient trees of the forest tower high above him, their living canopy providing shade in the sunlight but bringing the scene to almost near darkness in the middle of the night as it was now.

Silver slivers of moonlight dapple the ground around him, the light struggling to make itself seen through the dense foliage but it’s more than enough for Hoseok to see what’s happening. Not that he understands it, but then again...he doesn’t particularly understand humans as it is.

Everything is frozen around him as usual; no sounds fill the empty space and no movement stirs the air. He knows that he must be quick, for he does not have an infinite store of power to use and already he can feel the slight pressure building in his skull. His head tilted to the side slightly though as he tries to comprehend what he’s looking at, black hair falling into his pale blue eyes.

Sods of dirt float in the air, simply waiting for time to resume and for them to carry on their descent back towards the earth they’d been pulled from. Two human men stand around a body on the ground, their faces unseeable in the darkness but it’s the man on the floor that interests Hoseok the most.

A human male, dressed in what Hoseok believed to be hunting leathers, is on his knees while a knife tinged in dark liquid gleams in the poor light of the moon. A wide brimmed hat covers his face from view but a quick glance underneath reveals dark eyes that have narrowed with anger.

No, not anger, Hoseok corrects himself quietly before standing. There's a perverse look of pleasure in this human’s eyes and a complete lack of remorse. Without even meaning to, Hoseok shudders ever so slightly before sneering at the man.

Human’s shy away from Hoseok. Something about him unnerves them deeply, as if they can sense the pull of death so close. His eyes frighten them even more, the pale rings around his dark pupils unnatural and bright; the eyes of death looking back.

But Hoseok is never malicious; he takes lives because it is simply their time as decreed by the Fates. It’s his job, his purpose; the very thing he was brought into this world to do, and he accomplishes it without prejudice. Good and evil, young and old, men and women. All die the same way in the end, with the kiss of a reaper.

This human though, this man...he is a purveyor of death like Hoseok. But they are not the same. This man kills for joy, for pleasure, for the thrill of it. His eyes are empty of humanity, full of sick perversement. Hoseok may be a reaper, but he thinks this man’s eyes are truly death incarnate. A painful, slow and torturous death.

Lips pouting, Hoseok looks down at the woman on the ground who is the victim of this disgusting excuse of oxygen and living matter. And he pauses, body freezing as still as the scenery surrounding him while his eyes widen.

Blood smears your back, dark and wet as it pools down the sides of your ribcage from two deep gashes in your back. They run parallel to your spine, along your shoulder blades for a few inches and he stares in fascinated confusion for a moment, strong brows coming together. What was the human doing? And why did your back look so-

He’s distracted from the questions that run through his mind when his shift in position causing something to catch the poor light, the objects shimmering an odd blue-black that somehow stands out even amongst all this darkness. Walking closer to the strange shapes at the foot of one of the other men, his own shoes causing the foliage and fallen branches to crack underneath his feet loudly against the silence of the world, he tries to make out what they are.

This was perhaps the strangest scene of death that Hoseok had ever come across, and he wasn’t sure what was going on. The man he who’s soul he was supposed to escort looked very much like he was alive and healthy, not someone who required a reaper’s sole service. And the woman...what was going on there?

Reaching the black shapes, he crouches down and tilts his head in fascination. His hand reaches out without him even realising, his fingertips running along the soft feathers that make up the large wings discarded onto the floor. They’re soft and lifeless, the arch of them still warm and he traces down to their ends in reverence. 

They end bluntly, ragged flesh still hanging on while cracked bone gleams at him, startlingly white even through the red smears. Looking back towards the woman, Hoseok stares in confusion as he slowly pieces together what he thinks is happening in his mind.

He knew that there were rumours of the supernatural in the human world; stories that scared villagers told each other to keep them safe at night or legends that were passed from parent to child throughout the centuries. Whether it was true or not, he hadn’t had any reason to disbelieve it given what he was.

But he had never encountered someone who was supernatural. Also supernatural. Like him. 

Reapers were solitary. They were born into the world fully formed when needed as the human population grew. He had entered the world long ago, appearing in a forest much like this one. He had only known three things upon his arrival; his name, what he was and what he had to do.

His instincts had kicked in almost immediately when he arrived, the alluring call of death causing him to automatically transport himself to the location without reason. Everything else had happened just as easily, as his body knew what to do. No one had taught him, and he had learnt about the world through careful study in the shadows or the world between that he was in now.

The only time he ever met another reaper was at the site of a large number of deaths, and even then they didn’t bother to communicate. He felt no kinship towards his kind, and he often wondered why that was. Everything else on this planet seemed to be driven to companionship at some point, even if only for procreation.

But not him.

And just as he was a story to humans, the woman on the floor was a story to him. Only you were as real as he was. 

Moving back over to you, he pays close attention to your body and notices the subtle differences between you and the humans. The black nails that are sharpened into lethal claws, the white teeth that were ever so slightly pointed and the solid black eyes that spoke of anger and death. The last point causes him to jerk slightly, eyes widening as he realises you are not dead but very much alive.

And there is no call of death coming from you, which means you will not die yet.

A sudden need for violence fills him as he takes in the pain on your face, the anger at your loss of control and the savage glee on the human’s face. Monster hunters, they have to be. Hoseok had only ever thought these humans went on pointless hunts, chasing fantasies.

How wrong he was.

Hoseok had never once taken a life in anger or violence. He was the epitome of a perfect reaper; he killed when it was their time and only when it was their time. But he wanted to kill them all in this clearing. All of them, for hurting you, a woman who was special like him and whose only crime was being different.

Shame filled him momentarily as he acknowledged his lapse in control, recognised the sheer bloodlust that filled him and how badly he wanted to be like this horrible excuse of a human and to hurt. But then he paused, realising that the pull of death was still emanating from the man.

Another scan around confirmed his earlier suspicions; there was no sign of anything that could kill, or even hurt him. So why had Hoseok been called here? Why was this man’s soul ready to leave?

He stiffened as realisation entered him. Hoseok was supposed to take this man’s soul, yes. He was supposed to provide the kiss of death and lead his soul to the afterlife. His thread had been cut by fate and he was simply waiting to die now. But it was Hoseok who was to be his cause of death. The real cause, not natural causes or murder or an accident.

Hoseok was meant to kill this man, that was the only explanation. A true death by reaper.

Crouching next to him, Hoseok watched him carefully for once. He normally didn’t bother with them like this, but he wanted to remember the first human he was taking on his own. Shame flushed him as he realised he felt guilty at the rush of need he’d felt to hurt this man, knowing that it made him like him and he pushed that need away.

Hoseok needed to be clinical and neutral. He wasn’t sure why fate had decreed he was to have a hand in this human’s demise, but he refused to lower himself to this pitiful creatures level. There would be no pleasure in his death, simply a relief that he had done his duty and removed a vile human from the world.

Reaching forward, he let his fingers trace along the human’s cheek. It was rough with scars and bristly dark hair, unappealing to Hoseok and his lips twisted slightly. With time frozen as it was, there was no change in the human’s skin itself from Hoseok’s touch, but had time been normal then the skin beneath his fingertips would freeze and die.

Humans couldn’t stand the touch of a reaper.

The pull was strong now, a deep and alluring thump that ran through Hoseok’s body like a world class orchestra was playing for him. It was too enticing for him to hold back any longer, the pull demanding the reaper do his job and Hoseok found himself pressing his lips in the lightest touch to the back of the human’s hand. 

He always hated how he had to kiss them in some form, hated the intimacy of it when he wasn’t allowed actual intimacy. Long ago, he’d decided to simply brush his lips across an inoffensive limb or something as it often felt like an invasion of not just their privacy but also an invasion of his own. 

But he knew that it was necessary, as much as he disliked it. For his ‘kiss’ severed the connection of the soul to the human body and instead anchored them to Hoseok for a moment. Once he had pulled them out, the connection was then severed and the soul was free to move on. Or not, if they so choose.

Sure enough, the man’s soul leaves his body easily. He hadn’t been expecting death, and so his soul was confused when it stood before him, looking around the forest with a creased brow before focusing on his own body. He was still knelt on the ground, but as soon as Hoseok let time ago then his body would slump to the side, never to rise again.

“What the fuck?” The man shouted, anger etching itself into every crevice of his ragged face and Hoseok got the impression that this was a man who was used to being obeyed. But not now. “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on? Why am I...there?” 

He points to his physical shell, a touch of panic in his eyes as he stares at Hoseok. For a few seconds, Hoseok let’s his panic build before he sighs internally and deigns to do his job properly. 

“My name is Hoseok, I am a reaper. Your reaper. You are no longer alive, you have left your mortal shell. I am here to guide you to move on to the other side.” Every death was different, and every death resulted in Hoseok trying to give the same information in a way that the soul would understand.

Sometimes he was unerringly polite, particularly with elderly humans who had lived a long and fulfilling life. They were often happy to see him, content to move on. With those who had died unfortunately, he was kind and almost comforting, allowing them time to come to terms with their sudden loss. With children...with children he was sweet and soft, spending more time with them than usual to comfort them and assuage their fright. 

It was hard with children, even for Hoseok who had never been a child. He tried his hardest to make it as easy on them as possible, all the while he quietly mourned yet another loss of a life that could have been something wonderful. He wasn’t sure if reapers were meant to mourn, but it felt wrong not to around the young.

And babies...well...he disliked having to deal with babies the most. 

But with cruel people like this man though, Hoseok was brisk and abrupt. He didn’t particularly care if this man was afraid, because all he could think was how many people this man had likely killed before. Hoseok had no doubt that someone who would willingly torture and kill a rare supernatural being probably also killed humans as well.

The world was a better place without this one in it.

“What? How? I was fine, you...you murdere-...wait...a reaper?” Interest flares in his eyes and Hoseok has to severely restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

Swirling his hand, the space next to him shimmers and wavers, the obvious thinning of the barrier between this world and the next evident even in the darkness of the forest. Hoseok points at it in frustration.

“You cannot kill me and profit off my body. You cannot do anything. If you do not pass, then you will stay in this spot for eternity. Your choice.” There’s a brief pause while the man thinks, his brows twitching once more before his lower lip sticks out petulantly.

“But I want to go back to living.” His tone is almost pitiful, whining and Hoseok bares his teeth suddenly. The paling of the man let’s him know that he’s seen the face of death in Hoseok’s own and he’s glad to see that fear. Never had Hoseok been so infuriated with a human before. “Okay...okay.”

People like this human though are cowardly, and when faced with something that will fight back, they often chose the easy way out. And so without a word, he moves to the barrier and goes to enter before stopping. A glance back to his body is all he does before he glares at Hoseok once more and enters. 

There's an odd fading as he moves through, letting Hoseok see through the soul before the barrier is back and everything is back to normal. Which also means he’s let go of the time freeze. Which in turn, means he’s visible to the other two men suddenly.

The dead man’s body slowly slides to the floor, breaking this shock at the sight of a strange man in their midst and their eyes follow his descent down. The silence that lays heavily between them all is not like the silence of before.

Leaves bristle against each other in the high branches while the soft sound of an owl hunting echoes through the night. It’s the sounds of life, even in a forest as quiet and asleep as this one.

No, this silence is shock and confusion which swiftly turns to anger.

Their gazes move back to him, the perfect image of puzzlement before the one standing near the wings steps forward and points at the fallen man. “What is wrong with him? What did you do?”

“Leave.” Is all Hoseok responds with, his tone low and dark. He knows that it sends their senses haywire as he’s purposefully lowered it until it makes all their innate instincts, bred through centuries of care, scream at them to run from him. Danger, they say, death, they warn.

But these humans are not clever. Humans are not clever in general. If anything, Hoseok has found them to be particularly dumb over the years. Oh, they may think themselves a clever species for reaching such a high and lofty position over everything else on the planet but Hoseok knows better.

He’s seen some of the stupid ways they’ve died.

“Who the fuck are you?” The one furthest away shouts, his voice causing a flurry of movement around them as the creatures of the forest run in fear from the loud noise. Hoseok sneers at him, noting the way he lifts his heavy, wooden crossbow and holds it against his chest. 

Before he can even say anything, the string snaps and all Hoseok hears is a soft whistle before a thudding impact causes him to rock slightly. Looking down, he takes in the crossbow bolt in his chest with interest.

Running his fingers along the fletching, he admires the workmanship for a moment before pulling the bolt out. There's a squelching noise as he does so, the flesh tearing and rending around the sharp metal head as it saws at his flesh on the exit but he doesn’t pay attention.

Lifting his hand up, he shows them the bolt in the weak light and let’s them see the way it glistens with his blood. It’s interesting how he has blood, given he is not alive nor dead. His heart beats, but he can stop it if he wishes. And stopping it does not kill him. He knows that he’s an anomaly in the world but he has no explanations for these things.

The bolt had caused only a minor twinge of pain, more discomfort than anything really. He doesn’t feel pain like a human does, because his body has no reason to fear pain. The loss of blood is simply a mild inconvenience; already he knows the wound in his chest has healed.

The corners of Hoseok’s lips turn up slowly in a grim smile, flesh pressed together as his eyes narrow at the men. His index finger is pressed into the wet heat of his blood on the shaft, and he lets them watch as his skin absorbs the warm liquid back into his body slowly until the bolt is dry once more.

He’s tired of these men now.

Baring his teeth at them, he feels the power of death flow through him in a way he doesn’t normally let it. It’s cool, like a refreshing breeze on a hot summer’s day and it bristles in his body with crackling energy.

Their widening eyes of terror let’s him know that they’re seeing him in his death form. A form that sends humans mad with fear. Hoseok has never known why reapers can do this, but he finds it pleasing that he can now.

His skin bleaches of all colour until he’s as pale as bone while his hair darkens ever further from its usual black, if that’s even possible. It flows slightly in the air, the ends visible in his eyesight as if being whipped by an invisible breeze and he can see how they look almost inky and wet in the poor light of the moon. The white of his eyes darken in turn, becoming an eerie black while his pale blue irises glow with such ferocity that he can see them reflected in their own eyes.

All the while, the skin around his eyes changes as a bruised black spreads along them, creeping down in his cheeks as if he had spilled paint onto his face. The air frosts around them all, delicate ice crystals forming on the plant life around him and the ground cracking as it freezes and Hoseok let’s out an angry hiss.

“Leave. And never come back.” He whispers, the sound amplified despite how quietly he says the words but they’re filled with the promise of death. The two men whimper to themselves, the crossbowman relieving himself accidentally in his trousers in terror before they run screaming into the forest. 

Hoseok doesn’t know where they’re going, nor does he care. He knows they won’t come back. No one ever comes ever looking for a reaper. 

Instead, he turns his attention to the figure on the ground, drawing his power back into him until he simply looks human once more. Crouching beside you, he goes to touch your shoulder to see if you are awake before hesitating.

He’s unsure if his touch will hurt you like it does humans, if he will kill your skin in his attempts to help. Hoseok isn’t even sure how to help you, he’s never helped a human that’s still alive before. But then again, you aren’t human.

Any reservations he has though are gone immediately when you writhe in pain, a quiet and strained groan leaving your throat before your head turns towards him. Eyes watery with tears look up at him and he jolts as your hand reaches out and grasps at his own.

He goes to pull away, afraid that he’s hurt you but you don't cry out in pain or jerk away from him. Instead...your touch is warm in his hand. Frowning, he looks down at them in fascination, realising that he’s never had someone alive hold his hand willingly. He’s never even touched anyone alive without it being for the purpose of bringing death to them.

It feels odd, the warmth of your skin delightful beneath his but then his eyes catch on yours again and he sees the pain there. Instantly he frowns, feeling shame at his fascination but you squeezes his hand gently.

“Thank you...for that,” Her words are quiet, rasping and he gets the sense that you had been screaming. A glance at the open wounds on your back make him wince slightly, knowing that you probably went through excruciating agony. “I thought...they were...going...to kill me.”

Hoseok bites his lip, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “It was not your time to die. It was his,” He gestures back towards the dead man before pointing at the mound of wings. “Are those...your wings? What are you? I am sorry...do you know somewhere we can go? That I can get you too, a healer perhaps?”

You let out a pained laugh, face screwing up as you try to push yourself up and Hoseok helps your immediately, carefully placing his hands on your arms and making sure you don't strain the wounds too badly. They begin to bleed down your back and he lets out a quiet breath, wondering how he can stop them from bleeding.

The front of your dress is still near enough intact with your collar still wrapped around your neck, the fabric of the back torn apart in their desperation to get to your wings. You staggered slightly, leaning against him and he holds you steady, marvelling at you once more.

“I have a...cabin. It is half...an hour away. North...near the mountainside.” Hoseok nods and frowns, wondering how on earth you're going to last what would have been a half hour walk for a fit and well person. In your condition, it will take much longer.

“I can...I think I can transport us closer...but I cannot take us directly there because I do not know where it is. Do you...need your wings?” He sounded awkward, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to talk to you. Hoseok didn’t even know what you were.

You look over at them with a forlorn look, lips being bitten until he’s sure you’re going to shed blood before sighing and shaking your head. “No...there is...there is no point. I cannot...they are gone now. Forever,” Hoseok isn’t sure what to say to that, unsure how you can console someone losing such an intricate part of themselves. “Can you...do you have a...way to burn them? I do not...want them...found.”

He hears the pain in your voice, but this time it’s not from the physical. It’s from the acknowledgement that instead of taking them with you, a part of you that had probably always been with you, you were going to have to burn them so no malicious humans could try and profit off them. Hoseok felt sad at that, at the loss of something so beautiful but he understands your wants.

“Not now...but if you have something at your cabin then I can come back and take care of them for you.” His words are quiet and gentle, causing you to smile ever so slightly. It’s strained, but Hoseok takes it as a success because it makes some of the agony in your eyes ease a little.

“Okay...okay. Take us...as close. To the base...of Mount Taga, please.” You lean into him heavily suddenly and he gets the impression that you’re losing energy rapidly. He has no doubt that it’s taking a lot of energy and pure willpower to keep yourself on your feet with how much pain you must be in, not to mention how unbalanced you must be after losing something so large.

Instead of saying anything, he simply nods and carefully places his hands on either shoulder. He’s never transported someone before, but he doesn’t see any reason why he can’t. Hoseok knows he can take things with him, he’s tried it before just to see if it was possible. He’s even taken a rabbit with him on occasion, just to experiment.

But this? This was different.

His last thought before he goes is that he’s oddly excited to spend a little more time with you, even though you don’t know each other at all and have met under such horrible circumstances. But he’s never had contact like this before, and he wants to make sure you are safe and well. He feels an obligation to ensure your safety for some reason.

This was most definitely not how he expected his day to go.

-

Despite Hoseok transporting you both close to the base of the mountain, the journey to your cabin still takes an hour with how slowly you walk. He wants to lift you up into his arms and carry you, knowing that he could move much faster on his own. But he’s unwilling to suggest it to you.

Partially because he’s not even sure how one asks a random injured woman if they would like to be carried, partially because he’s not sure he can even hold you without causing you further injury given the placement of your deep wounds and partially because he’s still not quite used to the concept of actually touching someone without causing them great pain.

Although, he supposes, if he did try to carry you then he would probably cause you pain anyway because of the gashes inflicted by humans. He frowns slightly as he thinks about that, but the tug of his arm by your warm hands distracts him and he looks down, concern written on his face as you suddenly lean even further into him, exhaustion slowing your entire body down.

The hour long journey had gone in silence, neither of you willing to talk for some reason. Hoseok just plain wasn’t sure what to talk about, he’d never had to do small talk before, whereas he was sure you were simply focusing hard on not collapsing to the ground. You’d done it twice already and by now, the pace was so slow that Hoseok was sure he was barely moving.

“We are here.” You whisper quietly, your voice cracked and he has the sudden urge to get you some water. But he simply looks around, trying to find wherever this cabin of yours is when you wave a hand in a slow yet complicated gesture. The space in front of him shimmers for a moment, reminding him of the heat of a desert, before the scenery suddenly changes and a wooden cabin stands before him.

It’s not big, but neither is it too small. A dark, wood door stands in the centre while two windows, shuttered for the moment with stars cut into the boards, take place on either side. More windows are dotted around the side of the cabin and the thatched roof leads up to a chimney. It doesn’t look like lived in itself, and he gets the impression it’s very old, but neither does it look abandoned. 

He’s reminded momentarily of Jimin’s home, casually noting how much better this house has been kept in repair before chastising himself for looking down on a mortal who was now deceased.

It wouldn’t be possible to presume this home was abandoned though, given the sturdy fencing that surrounds the whole area with one fence post just a mere metre ahead of him. He’s relieved that you had uncovered the area when you did, otherwise he would have walked into it. Behind the house, he can see a whole range of vegetation that look to be carefully tended to while brown and white chickens cluck loudly as they walk around the enclosure, pecking at the floor and each other in annoyance.

A group of pigs is penned off in one corner while a few cows graze on the sparse land a little further on. He’s thrown for words, unable to comprehend what he was seeing and he looked down at you with a frown, wondering what you were specifically given your ability to manipulate what had to be magic so easily.

You don’t say anything though, instead just moving through the gate as you slowly and painfully made your way to the cabin. The chickens immediately get louder, rushing over to you and you murmur something to them that he can’t hear. As you finally reach the door, a sleek black cat comes running from the forest, meowing loudly and curling around your legs in a desperate bid for attention.

Perhaps you’re a witch? But he’s never come across a witch who actually had any ability, nor did he think they had the same...physical attributes that you did. Though what did he know about witchcraft really?

The door opens with a gentle creak and he follows you inside, looking around the space with raised yet interested brows. It’s a reasonable living space but nothing flashy or big like he has seen with the humans. In fact, it reminds him of the houses that humans used to live in centuries ago. At least, those who were not rich anyway.

A makeshift wash basin and counter sit before one set of windows, shutters opening as he pushes them to let through the gentle light from outside. The clearing your home inhabits means that there’s more sun here than he’s seen in a while, the trees far enough back that he can see the towering mountain range beyond them.

Against the wall next to what he presumes is your kitchen area is a fireplace, a well used pot hanging over the now cold wood and kindling. On the other side of the room is a large double bed, pressed up against the wall. A warm, handmade quilt lies on top of it and Hoseok wonders if perhaps you have made it yourself. It looks of good quality, if a little threadbare from use.

A rug in a similar fashion lays on the floor next to the bed, protecting your feet from the cold winter months no doubt and he idly notes the small touches that make this cabin a home for you. The drying herbs hung on a rack that dangles from the ceiling next to the tiny kitchen, pressed and dried flowers that have been carefully arranged into a frame while an elegant tapestry of a scene he doesn’t understand hangs by your bed.

There are other small oddities dotted around the place that let him know you’ve lived here a while, incricate geodes and crystals placed carefully on shelves or cupboards alongside small pieces of pottery. It only takes a small glance for him to know that everything here is old, and he idly wonders how old you are.

The air is filled with the pleasing scent of fragrant herbs and he inhales deeply, enjoying how nice everything smells when it could quite easily smell stale from age. But then his attention is back onto you and how you limp towards the small table with two aged chairs in the corner.

A stack of well read books is piled atop it alongside parchment, ink and quill. He wonders what you were doing, realising that the books are a mixture of history, medicine and even pure fiction. You don’t seem to notice them though as you practically collapse into the chair, crying out as the movement jarrs your wounds and he winces as fresh blood begins to seep through once more.

“Do you...err...I am afraid I do not know what to do? Tell me...what do I need to help you?” He bends over beside you, concern painted on his face and laced in his voice as his hand hovers nervously on your shoulder. There’s no lie there, his job was to take people’s lives, not save them. So he found himself in the odd situation where he was suddenly trying to do the exact opposite.

“Water...get clean water. Heat it on the fire...to sterilise it. Clean rags...there should be...a pot beneath the counter...black with purple cream. Take it…” He nods immediately, even though you can’t see from where you’ve slumped against the table and goes to begin moving before pausing with wide eyes.

“Where do I get water?” In all the centuries that Hoseok has lived, he has never felt more useless or stupid than he has right now. But he won’t let his insecurity over what he’s doing get in the way; he’s determined to help you. Even if he messes things up.

“Stream...behind.” You don’t say anymore and he simply acknowledges it, taking the initiative to get a move on as you seem to be struggling. Before he goes forth with getting anything that you’d told him though, he transports himself back to your wings as quickly as he can before taking them and disposing of them inside an active volcano that he knows of in Italy.

It might seem a little extreme but he couldn’t think of anywhere else that wouldn’t be obtrusive. Still, he felt sadness as he watched the beautiful black feathers slowly disappear as they burnt, feeling the need to at least watch as part of you died forever.

Transporting back though, he noted your heavy breathing and quickly set about grabbing everything you needed. A fire was set, after a few aborted attempts, before he ran out to the stream behind the cabin that you had told him of, passing by the cows who mooed at him in interest. He ignored them though and followed his ears towards the bubbling water that danced its way through the forest, the vegetation here vibrant and bright from the easy source of hydration.

It takes him ten minutes before he thinks he’s got the water heated right for you, heading back over and placing the bowl on the table next to you. Steam rises from it while a pile of clean, white rags sits next to the bowl from where he’s torn up a dress of yours he’d found and the pot of cream is beside that. He’d feel bad about the dress but he’s pretty sure you’re not bothered about it.

There’s no need for you to tell him what to do at this point thankfully; he might not know a lot but even he can figure out what you need him to do. But it’s a little awkward for him as the blood from your wounds has stained your dress badly, drying into stiffness and there’s even a piece that has dried into the wound itself. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, but I think you need to take your dress off. Do you have something else you could wear? That will leave your back open?” You shake your head, groaning quietly before pointing at the chest of drawers at the foot of the bed.

“There’s some...trousers in there. No shirt...it will be okay.” He swallows at that, eyes widening but realises you probably don’t have anything that would keep the wounds open to prevent them from being irritated. But he gets the aforementioned clothes without complaint for you, a pair of plain brown linen trousers, and helps you out of the dress and into them.

His eyes steadfastly ignore your nakedness, turning his head away as he helps you and he gets the sense that you’re amused at his behaviour. Even he knows not to be rude and look when you’re vulnerable like this!

“Okay...this is probably going to hurt. I am incredibly sorry, I wish I could make it so that it will not.” 

“Just do it. It is okay.” Letting out a deep sigh, he nods and dips a cloth into the water before gently running it along your back. He hates that he has to potentially reopen the wound from where the blood has coagulated but he knows that it’s better than your wounds healing with dirt inside it.

A soft whimper leaves you as the blood starts to flow once more and he quickly wiped it clean, removing the dried blood from your skin as well and trying his best to clean you up. Grimacing slightly from the way your body jerks, he whispers his apologies repeatedly as he works and hopes that he’s doing everything right.

“So...err...what are you? If you do not mind me asking.” Hoseok asks, hoping that the conversation might distract you from the pain he’s unintentionally inflicting on you. Or maybe that’s intentionally. Either way, he wants to find out what you are and if that has the added benefit of distracting you then it will be a bonus for you both.

“Harpy.” The word is gasped out, tinged with pain and he winces in sympathy, squeezing your shoulder gently with his hand in reassurance.

“A harpy? Aren’t those...Greek? I thought they were meant to be...ugly? Half bird or something?” He flushes immediately, going to apologise in case you found what he’d said offensive but a laugh leaves you, the sound surprisingly light and airy and something within him tightens. Frowning, he wonders momentarily what that was before focusing again on what he was doing.

“Greek and Roman, yeah. The mythology...states that we are half human...and half bird. The storm winds incarnate. No one...got us right...really. We look human except...for our wings...and our claws on our hands and feet. People were scared...of us, so they made us terrifying. We are seen as harbingers...of doom or death. Because our mythology...states that we took people...to Tartarus, ow. But we just...have an unlucky nature.” He laughs lightly at that, tongue sticking out as he keeps cleaning.

He doesn’t have many clean rags left, and the water is looking very pink. The plus side to this though, is that your skin is clean once more and the wounds, as terrible as they were, looked a lot cleaner than they had been. Not bad for someone who has no idea what he’s doing.

“Why do you have an unlucky nature? You are not terrifying, nor are you ugly.” There’s no shyness in his voice, nor embarrassment because he simply doesn’t understand that he was giving you a compliment that strangers don’t really give to each other.

“Thank you, but humans are different. And...when a human sees me...bad things tend to happen...to them. Or around them. The reasoning has been lost.” Hoseok hums quietly, placing the final rag down and looking at your back critically. Taking the pot of cream, he begins to ever so carefully dab it into your wound, wincing everytime you did so.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and you give a neutral noise to him.

“What about you?” A pause, as he wonders what you mean at first before he realises and lets out a quiet ‘ah’. 

“Reaper. I am a reaper. I remove souls from their bodies when their thread has been cut and then direct them to the other side if they so wish.” Your head turns suddenly, looking at him with wide eyes and he watches you carefully as you do so, unable to look away.

“A grim reaper? That is why the hunter died so suddenly, right? And your eyes...they’re unnatural. You have...a scary aura. Like death.” Hoseok chuckles at that, giving you a wry smile as he finishes adding cream to the wounds before sitting back in triumph.

“That is because I am death. My touch kills the nerves and cells of a human’s skin while my kiss is death itself. I unnerve them in my own way, because they can sense death is nearby when I am here. Though I only take those who fate directs me to, so have no fear; I shall not hurt you. It is not your time.” He smiles softly, running his hand along the softness of your cheek and wiping away the wet trails of your tears.

You stay silent for a moment before nodding, giving him a tiny smile in response. “Well...thank you…” The question is implicit and he bows his head regally as he gives his name. “Hoseok. Thank you...for saving me. And this...I appreciate it.” 

Looking around the room, he hums once more before helping you get up and move over to the bed. Once you’re lying down, front pressed to the cover and eyes watching him as you make sure to keep your back untouched, he crouches down by your bedside.

“You do not need to thank me. This is all very new and amusing to me. I have never saved someone before,” Pausing, he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you. “I feel the need to continue to assist you. You are evidently not going to be moving around for a while. Is there anything I can do for you around here? To help you?”

There’s a few long minutes of silence as you simply watch him and he feels his cheeks heating for some reason, an odd sensation causing his eyes to glance away from yours. Finally, you cough quietly and nod.

“I would appreciate that. A lot. You do not have to, but it would be a great help to me. The animals...need to be fed. The pigs cleaned. You will need to…” You carry on talking, listing out the chores that he would need to do for you to keep your small homestead going while you were injured.

His eyes widen in response, not expecting you to have this many jobs to do and he was a little embarrassed when he had to keep interrupting, asking you what you meant or how he would do something. He had never cleaned a pig’s sty before, nor had he milked a cow or taken care of a garden. Nor had he cooked, but he’d realised suddenly that he would need to as you were not able.

Yet you had patiently explained everything to him, going through in detail exactly what he needed to do. And so hours later, in the dying light of the sun as he realised a whole day had passed and he was carefully sprinkling seeds for the chicken’s that were flocking around him, he had the odd realisation that he was remarkably okay with doing these mundane chores.

It was all new to him, obviously, but the knowledge that he would go into your small cabin later and likely see the smile of relief on your lips seemed to make everything worth it.

-

For the next two weeks, Hoseok worries. He worries that he is not doing the chores you have assigned him correctly, he worries over the man he killed and whether he did the right thing, he worries over the fact that he does not know how to care for you and most of all, he worries because you were ill. Violently ill, and Hoseok did not know what to do.

Every day, he feeds your animals and takes care of the garden of vegetables and herbs around the back of the small cabin. It doesn’t matter if he’s not sure whether or not he’s doing it right, all he knows is that for two weeks, he doesn’t manage to kill anything else. Which is surprising.

That’s also how he discovers that his touch doesn’t harm animals. The small cat that apparently lived with you had taken a liking to him, constantly walking with him and laying on him when he sat down. Hoseok didn’t need to sleep, but he often let himself doze on the floor by your bed, the cat resting on his chest. It was comfortable and nice.

Learning how to cook for you had been another stress as he’d only ever casually observed it being done over the years. He had never needed to eat; like all his bodily functions, he didn’t need to do them but could actively participate if he wanted. And so he’d quietly visited human steadings, watching as they made delicious smelling meals out of the vegetables he could find in your garden.

It had taken a lot of trial and error, but he was pretty confident that he could at least make a good vegetable stew for you. And you had never complained about it whenever he’d managed to wake you up, encouraging you to sip on the warm broth and chew a few of the vegetables. He’d even taking to eating some himself, delighting in the pleasant flavours that blossomed in his mouth.

Hoseok had no doubt that the food he made wasn’t actually good, but at least it was sustaining you. Giving you energy to sweat out whatever illness was plaguing you. Every hour, your skin would glisten with sweat and the wounds on your back did not look healthy. A week ago, Hoseok had carefully re-opened them and grimaced upon seeing the pus and blood that seeped out, cleaning everything carefully once more.

He had read through one of your books on healing that littered the small table, pulling together a list of plants and flowers that were supposed to have medical properties. Hours had been spent scouring the forest, even travelling to other areas of the world in an effort to find them all before he would brew a warm drink for you.

For a few days, he had been convinced that it wasn’t working until finally...you had stopped sweating and shivering. The wounds on your back had bled clean and he left them to scar up to heal properly, unsure whether he was doing the right thing but confident at least that you had no visible infection.

An infection deeper within you, maybe, but he couldn’t help that. He hadn’t felt the pull that dictated your life thread had been cut, so he presumed that you were going to survive whatever had ailed you for the past fortnight.

Despite the care he was bestowing on you, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he had this deep need to make sure that you were okay, he still fulfilled his duty to the Fates. Hoseok didn’t usually count days like humans did because his duty took him all over the world, but he had begun to measure time staying with you.

It was through this that he’d discovered he had an average of 12 souls to deal with a day. Easily manageable, particularly given that when he transported himself to the soul in need then time would stand still. In reality, no time passed at all from the moment he left till he came back. So you had care constantly in case you woke up suddenly.

Which had you done, in small fits that were usually terror filled and he had the sense that your dreams were not dreams at all. Or at least...not the pleasant kind. Every time you had whimpered and shuddered, eyes squeezing tight, he had shuffled closer to the bed, resting his head on the feather filled mattress and gently running his fingers along your arm in reassurance.

He had watched humans do this before, and it had always seemed to have a comforting response. Plus, the cat liked being stroked like this and so he figured he may as well try with you. And every time, your whimpers would quieten down, expression smoothing out while your breathing became deep and even once more.

It fascinated him how you reacted to his touch like that. For so long, he had gone with his touch being dangerous and painful. But now...now it brought comfort and contentment.

Hoseok has become so involved in the seemingly mundane intricacies of daily life for those who have to rely on things like food and water to live, that he’s too busy out feeding the chickens to see when you finally wake properly inside. The day is pleasant, a serene blue sky painted with a few white puffs of cloud and over the top of the lush green canopy of the forest, he can see the jagged white tipped peaks of the mountain range beyond.

It’s neither warm nor cold, in that perfect temperature zone that humans seemed to like particularly well and Hoseok wonders if he should experiment with his clothing too. The thought leaves his mind quickly as he moves around to the small outhouse behind the cabin. There are two here, one contains a toilet that he has carefully brought you to multiple times a day while the other is a small store room.

Inside is a bag of feed for the chicken. Part of him wonders how on earth you managed to get the food and animals from the humans given their hatred of you and the obviously non-human visage you wear, but he hasn’t been able to ask you obviously. Instead, he simply grabs a handful of the feed, the pellets soft and small in his large hand and heads back out.

Clicking his tongue in a way that he has discovered attracts the small birds attention, he grins as the air is immediately filled with the sound of desperate clucking and the flutter of useless wings as brown and white hens come rushing towards him. Every day, he has gone into their little enclosure and taken the eggs that they have laid.

He’s not even remotely experienced enough yet to make anything including eggs, so he’s just had to leave them in a small basket in the store room. A part of him hopes that they’ll still be okay to do something with when you’re better, but he has no idea what. 

“Calm down ladies, you will all get some,” Hoseok murmurs gently, slowly dropping the feed to the ground and watching carefully to make sure they all get some. “Good, good. Eat up and stay healthy little ones.” 

It felt ridiculous for him to admit that he was growing an attachment to the animals in your small homestead, but he was. He already would lament when he had to leave behind the little black cat, the warm body reassuring in his arms and the gentle purr pleasing. Even the chickens, as loud as they were, had come to be a constant and enjoyed presence.

Smiling at them all as their noises quieten down to their usual mellow clucks, he brushes his hands on his trousers and heads back into the cabin. Almost immediately he jerks in surprise, his body’s response to go into his full reaper mode and he only manages to pull it back at the last second.

“You are awake!” He exclaims, eyes widening before he rushes over to you. A piece of soft white cloth, that he may or may not have liberated from a market stall somewhere in the world, is wrapped around your shoulders to provide you with some modesty while also allowing your wounds to be free from any pressure or touch.

Your lips curve up into a smile, the expression lighting your face up and he watches quietly for a moment, head tilting to the side as your eyes gleam with life. It’s odd to think that he has never actually seen you in good health, but your smile is quick and easy while your limbs move smoothly when he hands you a cup of fresh water that he had retrieved that morning.

“I am, thank you for taking care of me. I do not particularly remember too much but...I do remember you.” Hoseok flushes at that, rubbing the back of his neck in a movement that he has seen many humans do.

“Well...you may not be happy to see what I have done. I...you asked me to do your daily chores and I am afraid that I am not quite acquainted with what to do. On the plus side, your animals are still alive and I have grown quite fond of your cat. Also...I apologise for the food that I have been feeding you. I think the vegetable stew is okay but...I have never eaten before so I am not sure.” Gazing down at the floor with an awkward expression, he misses the way your brows rise as you look him up and down thoughtfully. 

“Can you pass me my boots please?” The question caused him to look up, watching as you point towards where a pair of well worn boots lies by the side of the door. Shaking his head, he wonders why he’d never noticed them before, grabbing them and helping you to put them on.

A gracious smile greets him when he looks back up at you, the sight making his chest feel strange but he simply stands and helps to adjust the wrapped cloth around your body until it looped to cover the right places while leaving your wounds free. Your body is stiff and aching, leaning heavily onto Hoseok as you hold onto his arm while making your way out of the small cabin.

Back out into the quiet day, you shiver ever so slightly and he frowns, wondering if perhaps he should make you go back inside. But taking one glance at you, he realises that would not be the best decision.

Your face is turned up to the sky, eyes closed as a gentle breeze blew the material around your body slowly. It was the first time you had been outside in a fortnight, and he imagined that the cabin would feel very stifling after a while. 

Soft meowing distracted you both, causing him to look down where the little black cat had come bounding over from her position on the fence. Immediately she began to lace her way around your legs, purring and meowing in content as you let out a sweet laugh, bending down and stroking her soft fur despite the wince of pain.

“She is very affectionate.” He muses, watching as the cat soon comes and begins to rub up against his legs. Without even questioning it, he leans down and brings the cat into his arms, her impossibly velvet fur pressing against his face as the cat purrs and rubs against him fiercely. 

“She isn’t normally to strangers. In fact, she’s specifically made to keep people away from here and protect the home.” Hoseok’s brows rise at that, looking from your serious face to the tiny ball of fluff in his arms. 

“This is Freyja. She was gifted to me a long time ago by a witch-goddess to protect me and my home from danger. We were more widely known in that time, and more widely feared as a result. She knew this and wanted to give us a way to live in this world without fear. Freyja is that way. Right now, she is a small and cuddly cat who wants affection, but when she senses danger to myself or my land here then she turns into a ferocious beast.” At that, Hoseok looks down at the cat in his arms with wide eyes, brows creasing.

“That is...unique,” He wasn’t really sure what to say to it. “But...I am death, why does she not deem me a danger? My very existence is a danger for living creatures.”

You point at Freyja then, a sardonic expression as you slowly shuffle over to the enclosure holding your pigs and cows. It had been harder to take care of them as he had zero knowledge of what to do there. He didn’t even want to talk about his experiences in trying to learn how to milk a cow.

“You have not killed my animals, nor are they frightened of you. I believe your scary nature must simply work on humans. After all, you do not take the souls of animals, do you not?” Hoseok hums at that, walking after you and noting the chickens that start clucking excitedly upon the sight of you.

“No, but I do not know if animals have souls.” That gets a tut from you as you lean over the fence, smiling and stroking the neck of a white cow as it chews grass contentedly. 

“Of course they do. I believe all living creatures have souls. Even supernatural ones like you and I.” His blood runs cold at that and immediately all he can think of is how easy it would be to destroy your life by accident. One simply brush of his lips against any part of your body and he would snap the thread of your life and pull your soul from your body.

“I doubt I have one. I do not see any need for a reaper to have a soul. We cannot die and we do not live.” He shrugs as you look at him quizzically, ignoring the nod of satisfaction after you finish checking over your animals before you move slowly over to the garden. Without a word, he follows and enjoys the gentle conversation between you both as you do so.

He has never had a real conversation like this before. A conversation which did not involve a panicked or upset soul that he was trying to guide to the next place. It was...nice. Everything was nice here. The animals, the forest, the weather, the mountains peeking behind the trees...you.

You examine your garden carefully, stiffly getting onto your knees as you look over the dirt that he had painstakingly kept weed free for you before examining the plants themselves. A few got dissatisfied shakes of your head before you pulled them free. One of them was one of those strange, almost circular vegetables that he didn’t understand.

“Ahh, my apologies. I do not really know vegetables besides from the common ones, such as carrots, potatoes and onions. I did not know what to do with...those...or if they could be used in the stew?” A sweet hiccup of laughter leaves you, your teeth sharpening suddenly before blunting again.

“This is a swede, or a rutabaga if you’d prefer. They’re delicious in stews actually. Have you cooked today?” Hoseok shakes his head, apology written on his face but you just smile graciously. “Are there any fresh vegetables in the store?”

“Oh yes, I put some in there yesterday after feeding the animals the waste. I think they will still be fresh? I do not really know.” He helps you to stand when you gesture an arm to him, pulling lightly until you are on your feet once more and wiping at the dirt that stains your trousers.

“Excellent. We shall get some and then head back inside, I feel tired already. I would appreciate you making me some of this famous reaper stew that you mentioned earlier, only this time I shall show you how to add swede. It tastes delicious in a stew, I swear.” The nod he gives goes unnoticed but he follows you anyway, dropping Freyja to the ground once inside the little store room. A glance around from you ends with a satisfied nod and he lets out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.

Grabbing some of the vegetables that you hand him, he follows you back around to the cabin. It’s darker now, with the sky deepening to a navy blue beyond the mountains and a chill bites in the air, your shoulders shuddering where they are exposed.

He expects you to retire back to the bed once back inside, but instead you stand with him at the small counter and show him how to cut the vegetables properly and how to make an actual broth for the food to cook in slowly over the fire. Heat spreads over his cheeks as he realises how wrong he’d been doing things, but his defence firmly remained that he had never had to make food before so why should he know how to?

“Tell me about reapers then. I always thought you were truly myth, just the bogeymen that humans made up to console themselves with the finality of death or something?” The question is casual as you carefully cube a carrot, making the chunks far smaller than he had and he frowns as he watches your skill with the knife.

It seems like you’ve taken over entirely, and after checking over your back once more, he chooses to no longer be a nuisance to you and sit on one of the chairs in the corner, Freyja jumping onto his lap and nibbling on some of the dried meat he’d found in the store room.

“There is not much to tell. We are the ones who remove the soul from the body so that the body no longer lives and the soul has no reason to stay. I answer their questions and encourage them to move on.” A glance back at him shows your wide expression, movements paused and his head tilts in question.

“That is...how do you know who need to die? Do you just randomly choose?” Immediately, Hoseok’s head is shaking in refusal, the very thought offensive to every part of his nature.

“No, never. That is not for me to decide. The Fates decide who’s life thread has come to its end and they sever it at the exact moment that I cause the body to expire. I know who to go to because the Fates...how can I explain this...they send a message to us. It is like...a pulling inside, a tug. I cannot ignore it. I do not need to know where I am going, I simply let the pull take me and I arrive at my destination where the human is.” You hum quietly, an interested look as you stir the stew in the pot and stoke the fire a little more, encouraging the flames to burn brighter.

“Interesting...I know that I am supposedly descended from the Greek pantheon or something, but I did not really believe the Fates to be real. After all...that would mean that the life of loneliness and hatred I’ve lived has all been planned out, right?” Moving slowly, the stiffness evident in your body, you head back to the bed and sit down with a heavy sigh.

Hoseok is suddenly desperate to do something to put a smile back on your face and he quickly blurts out the question before he even realises what he’s doing. Why he’s doing it, he also doesn’t know but he can’t find it in himself to question it either.

“Ermm, well...my muscles feel stiff from not using them. Perhaps...if you would be so kind, you could massage my calves?” You sound shy, embarrassed, and he does not understand why. He has seen plenty of humans be given treatment in the form of massage throughout the centuries, to relieve aching muscles and painful injuries and he is more than willing if it will be of help to you.

“Of course!” He says quickly, placing Freyja onto the table before moving over to the bed. You have to sit straight, unable to let your still healing back touch the covers or mattress but it doesn’t seem to affect you, your legs stretched out.

“I apologise if it is not good...you are the first person I have ever touched without causing them pain.” Your brows rise in muted surprise, watching as his hands slowly began to press and squeeze against the firm muscles of your calf. Strangely, his body seems to know what to do and the soft sigh that leaves you lets him know that he’s doing it well.

“Yes...you did look at me strangely the first time I touched you. Why is that?” 

“Erm...well...my touch causes great pain to humans. It causes the cells and nerves to die wherever I touch, so I do not touch anyone.” The silence that falls is awkward and he’s not sure why, brows creasing together as he tries to figure it out. Over the last two weeks, he’s been surprised to discover that he has experienced a great many unusual feelings that he has never experienced before.

Most of them, he doesn’t have a name for.

Such as the odd warmth in his chest as he watches the way you chew at your lip absentmindedly, uncaring of the way your teeth sharpen momentarily. Or the strange feeling of...almost buzzing in his body at the feel of your skin against his own.

“That sounds...lonely,” Hoseok simply nods, acknowledging the fact without another comment. “Do you not have any family? Other reaper friends perhaps?”

“No. We are solitary, we do not meet up and communicate with each other. Not unless we are at the sight of large scale death, but we are too busy doing our work to communicate. There is nothing for us to talk about really. And I have no family. Reapers simply exist.” A choking noise comes from you and he looks up, noting Freyja has settled herself in your lap while a strange expression takes over your face.

“You have no family? Were you abandoned? Orphaned?” Hoseok frowns in confusion, head tilting once more at the question he doesn’t quite understand. And then he realises you think he must have had a family. Of course, that is how living creatures are born.

“No, I do not have a family because I was not born. I simply...existed? I...came into this world centuries ago as I am now, fully formed and aware. I knew what I was and what I was made to do. I do not believe reapers can be born because I do not believe we can procreate. Admittedly, that is simply because I presume it to be impossible given we cannot touch humans. And also, we exist between life and death. Something that is dead cannot produce life?” That soft peal of laughter leaves you once more, your hands busy stroking at Freyja’s fur.

“Of course the dead can produce life. What do you think nature is? The cycle of life is death, which leads to life. Things die, they decay and new things are born from that.” He looked at you blankly, wondering if you were being pedantic for a reason.

“You know what I meant. Besides, the point is moot. How would a reaper have ever tried?” The conversation dies after that, the air filled instead with the crackling of the fire and the purring of Freyja. Hoseok glanced out of the window, noting the quickly darkening sky outside.

“Do you have a family?” He asks finally, the chill from the air creeping in and he finally gets up to close the shutters. As he does so, he passes the fireplace and pauses to move the kindling, increasing the fire and enjoying the warmth for a moment. It’s odd, to engage in feeling things for once, but he likes it.

“I did. A long time ago. They died unfortunately. Hunters, like what you saw. Harpies are not beloved creatures unfortunately, so I retired in solitude to this cabin and received Freyja as a companion.” Pausing as he locked the final shutter, he stares at the aged wood quietly as he absorbs the sadness in your words.

“I am sorry for your losses. I understand about not being beloved by humans. And about solitude. I did not realise I was lonely until I came across you. I do not know if I would be able to return to such isolation now that I have experienced whatever this is...socialisation?” He wasn’t sure of the word, faltering over it but you give him a tired nod.

“Yes. I know that I do not know you well Hoseok, but I believe that I would like to call you a friend if I may?” Hoseok freezes by the counter, his hand about to pour out a fresh cup of water for you and his head tilts ever so slightly as he considers this unusual development.

Friend. Not a term ever used for him. But he liked it.

Turning back to you, he gave you the biggest smile, bright and happy before handing you the cup and sitting beside you once more. “I would like that very much. Friends.”

The warm feeling in his chest is even stronger now, accompanied by an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach and fizzing in his veins. He isn’t sure what’s happening, but none of it feels threatening so he doesn’t focus on it too hard.

He has no idea that you are experiencing the exact same thing for the strange reaper man in your cabin, whom you barely knew and yet owed more to than anyone else. And yet, he would never ask anything of you. It wouldn’t even enter his mind, for a reaper knows nothing of debts or payback.

Hoseok is here simply because he wants to be, because he wants to care for you and nurse you back to health. Because he enjoys the domesticity of your little cabin and land. Because you make him feel alive for once.

-

Hoseok sat on the chair quietly as you moved around the tiny kitchen of your cabin with a brisk efficiency that he couldn’t help but admire. There was a silence that hung in the air, but it didn’t feel oppressive or awkward. Instead it felt...comfortable. Like you had both been around each other for a long time and felt no need to fill the air with useless words.

He wasn’t sure what to think of it really. It had only been three months since he had found you, since he had taken the life of the scum who had taken your wings from you. And yet, in those three months he felt that you had both become closer than he’d even thought possible for a reaper like him.

Was it okay for a reaper to feel? Not that he knew what he was feeling. All he knew was that his stomach felt tight and his chest breathless when he looked at you on occasion. Like now, with the sunlight streaming through the open window and making you look soft...beautiful.

Frowning slightly, he rubs at his chest without even thinking.

“Are you okay?” The question breaks the silence abruptly, causing his head to jerk up in surprise as his eyes widen. He would’ve thought that after a month of communication with you, he wouldn’t be as surprised or awkward while talking to you. But a month was nothing compared to centuries of loneliness.

“Erm...yes? I mean...yes. I am okay. Are you okay?” His question is stilted and he feels his face flush slightly, an odd sensation still which causes him to let his fingers trace across his rounded cheek slowly. Hoseok had never blushed before he met you, but then he’d never had a reason to. Reapers didn’t have anything to blush about.

You watch quietly, lips pursed with the basket of fresh vegetables you’d collected from the tiny garden sitting in your arms. Everything with you is different though, he reasons to himself internally, because you’re introducing him to a world he’d only ever watched from the outside. 

With you, he almost felt like he belonged in this world.

Your black fingernails sharpen for a moment as you place the basket on the side, sighing deeply as you turn away from him and take out a bunch of carrots. There’s no talking for a few moments as you take a knife from the little block you kept, cutting the orange vegetable into neat pieces that went into the pot that was hanging over the fire. 

The gentle sound of the pieces dropping into the chicken broth you’d started up earlier makes his stomach growl and he looks down in bemusement. These sensations were still so new to him, and yet he didn’t want to let them go. In fact, he wanted to embrace them more.

He’d cavorted with death for so long, for his entire existence. Let him dance with life for once. Especially if it meant dancing with you.

The sudden image of you both dancing crosses his mind in a flash, his hand on the small of your back and your own hand in his other. Moving across the small floor of your cabin elegantly in one of those pretty, swooping dances the humans did in their extravagant clothes.

Hoseok eyes you for a moment, wondering if you know how to dance. He doesn’t, maybe he’s not good at it.

Thick cubes of potato disappear into the pot as well, along with a whole onion and a host of seasoning you’d plucked from your herbs. The lid is placed on top, sealing the ingredients inside the metal and ensuring both the vegetables and meat will cook thoroughly and efficiently. His tongue slides across his lips, mind already racing to imagine a bowl of delicious broth in his hands.

Does all food taste this good? Or is it because you’ve made it for him? Was his cooking as satisfying to you as your cooking is to him? There’s so many questions that he wants to ask, but feels far too shy to consider actually vocalising. 

You clean your hands using a square of cloth and some fresh water, cleaning up the area and placing the vegetable waste into a bucket. It would be used to feed your pigs later on, along with some other feed that you’d got. Hoseok would forever be in fascination with how you’d managed to live so long without the human’s realising what you were, and he wished that he had been able to see you with your wings.

He knew that you would have been astonishing with them, but he was more than content with how you were now.

You brush at the front of your dress while humming gently, the back draped open and revealing the mostly healed wounds on your back. They’re not a pretty sight; the gashes had been too deep for your skin to heal smoothly and so the skin there was thick and rough with scars. The open dress was a remnant of when you would wear your wings openly around your small home, needing the gaps to allow you to spread them.

Now, it simply let you walk around without having anything irritating your wounds as they had healed.

Hoseok wished he could say your humming was soft and melodious, but it wasn’t. You’d told him of the myths about your kind over the past month and one of those was that the sound of your voice was death itself. 

That was obviously false, but no one would ever say that you had a pretty singing voice. Even Hoseok struggled to lie there, but you’d just laughed at him sweetly when he’d tried after you asked him if he liked your singing. You knew that you didn’t have a good voice, but that was apparently merely a trait of a harpy.

Neither did you care. You sang because you enjoyed it, even if you were bad. Hoseok couldn’t find it within himself to think negatively of you when you embraced your solitary life so firmly in a way he’d never been able to.

Moving to the bed next to him, you sit at the edge and reach out to hand that rests carelessly on his thigh. Instinctively he moves his thigh out of the way in a jerky movement, body tensing while his hand clenches.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly before you let out a small sigh, letting your hand rest on your own thigh as you cross your legs. “You are so tense around me.” The words are steady, with no accusation in them and he feels grateful for that.

Swallowing thickly, he looks down at his hands and gives a small shrug. “It is not you. Well...it is you. But not in a negative way. It is just...you know that I’ve spent centuries alone. I have become...conditioned to the knowledge that my touch will cause pain and so I actively have avoided seeking out contact. I am no sadist.”

“I understand that Hoseok, really I do. But...you know that you don’t hurt me? I...would like to touch you. Casually. I want...I want to be able to touch you without you flinching from me. I want you to enjoy being touched.” He scowls slightly, lowering his head and he feels shame as his lip purses out in a petulant pout.

He’d always thought humans that pouted were childish, yet here he was, pouting.

“I do not hate it. I just...I am not used to it. I...I would like for you to touch me as well. I...like your touch, even if I flinch at first. It makes me feel...happy?” His sentence turns into a question but he knows it’s rhetorical because he already knows the answer. Your touch does make him happy, in fact it makes him positively gleeful that you can run your fingers along his skin without crying out in pain.

“Would you...would you let me explore you then? I mean...if you are comfortable with it. And you think you will be okay with it. You can tell me to stop at any time.” You sounds a strange mix of embarrassed and excited, causing Hoseok to cock his head at you. The movement isn’t natural, he can tell by the way you shudder slightly and he resists from apologising.

You have both learnt over the last month that neither of you are human, and he knows that his...habits unsettle you sometimes. But at the same time, he knows that you won’t condemn him for them. If anything, you seem to find some of them almost...cute?

“I...okay.” He doesn’t intend for his voice to sound as soft and almost...shaken, yet it is. Because he’s feeling a lot of emotions that he’s struggling to process right now. Fear, in case he hurts you. Nerves, because he’s never had anyone touch him before except for you. Awe that you want to touch him. But mostly, he feels excitement. Pure excitement at the very thought that you want to spend your touch touching him.

Your face lights up in a brilliant grin though, white teeth sharpening for a moment before they become blunt once more. He finds your little slips into your harpy side sweet, as if you’ve become so distracted that you can’t focus properly.

Hoseok wonders if your teeth would sharpen when you’re being kissed, if the edges would knick at his tongue as he kissed you as deeply as he’d watched humans do over the centuries. It made a strange feeling swell deep in his gut, twisting and odd. It’s foreign, and he doesn’t know enough about the emotions he’s been experiencing to be able to put a name to it.

Instead of thinking about it, he simply ignores it and stands up before moving to sit next to you on the bad cautiously. Neither of you have even done anything and yet his skin feels like the sensation just before a lightning storm, the fine hair on his arms standing on end while his breathing quickens suddenly.

You watch him carefully, lips curving into a gentle smile that is both amused and reassuring before you place a hand on his shoulder. He jumps before relaxing, finding the heat of your palm upon his clothed shoulder astonishing. 

“Lay back on the bed for me please?” Your fingers slowly move down his chest, tracing along the collarbone that you can feel beneath the cotton of his shirt. The black material keeps his chest from your view, yet he suddenly finds that he wants to remove his shirt entirely.

To let you feel him skin to skin, to let him feel you. He wants you to touch him in the way a woman touches a man, but he doesn’t know how to get across that he wants that. Internally sighing, he contends with the fact that he will simply accept what he is given right now.

Which is far more than he’d ever imagined over the years. 

Laying back on the bed like you’d asked, he rests his head on the small pile of soft pillows you favoured and watches you intently. You’re humming to yourself again, the noises quiet and he has to press his lips together to suppress the smile he wants to let out. It doesn’t stop him from admiring how pretty you look in the mid-morning sunlight, so elegant.

He wonders if it’s normal to feel like this, or if he’s simply imprinting on you because you’re the first being he’s been able to touch without hurting. Like a duckling attaching itself to the first thing it sees when born or something. What if he doesn’t actually care for you, but is simply infatuated with the idea of being able to live?

Any further thoughts he has along this line is interrupted by the featherlight touch of your fingertips against wrist. His eyes trail down to follow your movements, taking in the way they ghost across him in a way that has the hairs on his arms standing up beneath you. A small huffed laugh leaves you and he glances up before looking back down.

Your touch is soft and careful, fingers moving along slowly as you let him get used to the very idea of being touched. It’s odd, he thinks to himself carefully, how...nice it is to be touched. Pleasant. 

Your body temperature is perfectly normal for a living being and yet it feels like you’re the temperature of a furnace with the heat your fingers leave behind on his arm. He knows that’s just his mind getting a little ahead of himself, but he finds that he likes it still. That warmth lets him know that you’re very much alive, despite the harbinger of death moniker you wear on your shoulders heavily like an iron cape.

Turning his arm, he lets your fingers dance along the vulnerable skin of his inner wrist. The flesh here is weaker, so easily hurt as he has seen over the years from humans who have injured themselves; whether on purpose or not. And yet, it is also incredibly sensitive due to that weakness.

The sensation that caused his skin to pimple is amplified tenfold and he can’t stop the shudder that ripples through his body. It’s incredibly obvious and he flushes deeply, embarrassed and ashamed to have had such a visceral reaction merely being stroked on the inner arm. 

But you just smile brightly, lips spreading to form a beautiful smile and his heart stutters for a moment as your eyes shine with happiness at his naive reaction. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so stupid. Not if it makes you smile like that.

Your fingers reach the sleeve of his shirt, rolled up to his elbow, and he spots a tiny pout appear. Playing with the edge of the soft material, you look back up at him with a slightly pleading glance.

“Can you...I mean...would you take your shirt off? Please...if you’re comfortable with it.” Hoseok remains in place for a few moments, his body frozen with awkwardness and stiff with uncertainty. He had never undressed around you. In fact, he never had to, because he didn’t wear clothes like you did.

His clothes were an extension of his power, allowing him to wear whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. It allowed him to blend in if he ever found himself in a situation where he must be seen, so he could attire himself in the latest fashions without having to actually communicate with a human.

As such, you’d never seen him change because it was a simple thought to give himself night clothes. Which meant he didn’t have to physically remove his clothes now either.

Swallowing, he nods slightly before his black buttoned up shirt vanishes without a sound. Suddenly, your fingers are touching the velvet skin of his inner elbow and he finds himself exposed to the world in a way he had never been. It’s rather astonishing he thinks and he can’t help but look down at his torso in slight amazement.

His actions must be amusing to you as you let out another chirp of laughter, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth as you take him in. Hoseok’s brow creases in confusion while his head tips to the side, asking a question silently.

“You’re looking at yourself like you’ve never seen your chest before.” Teasing, that’s what you’re doing with him. It makes him smile softly in return as he shrugs lightly, cheeks heating once more.

“Well...I have not, really…” He trails off, unsure of how to explain himself. “I do not...change clothes like you do, as you have just seen. Therefore...I have never had need to be...bare.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in his words before they slowly trail along his torso in careful and calculated movements. Raising a brow, you let your hand move onto the toned muscles of his abdomen which twitch in response to your light touch. But there’s nothing sensual in your eyes that he can tell, instead he just sees pure curiosity.

“So...I am the first person to ever see you like this?” You ask, eyes narrowing while one side of your mouth kicks up and he finds his throat tightening as he nods. “That is...interesting Mister Jung.”

As you say his name like that, low and almost purring, you rake your nails along his flesh in a scrape that is light enough not to cause damage yet deep enough to make him shiver violently. A gasp leaves his mouth as his chest heaves suddenly, causing him to look at you with widened eyes as you grin triumphantly.

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t even think on the question, doesn’t even let the words fully penetrate his mind before he’s nodding quickly. Because he does, he really does trust you far more than you’ll ever know. Because a part of his mind is telling him that he’s going too deep, too fast and that he’ll get hurt if he doesn’t stop.

But he doesn’t care, he can’t care. Not when he’s getting something he never even realised he’s been craving. Whatever that is, even if he can’t put a name to it now. He wants to be here, with you and continue feeling. And that means that he trusts you, in a way he has never trusted a single person, alive or otherwise, in his long life.

The look of fond relief on your face makes him realise that you’re probably far more touched by his acknowledgement than he could realise. That made him feel good, knowing that you probably weren’t going to abuse that trust. Although he could never say for sure.

He’d spent too long on this planet to fully believe that nothing will ever go wrong, because something always does eventually.

Either way, he doesn’t expect his trust in you to be rewarded with your lips being pressed to the centre of his chest. He’d been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed you moving, hadn’t paid attention to the look of desire in your eyes, nor to the way your hands on his slim waist had squeezed ever so slightly.

But he’s paying attention now. Now that the rose soft petals of your lips ghost along his skin, the sensation so overwhelming and unknown that it feels like his brain is overloading with information while his nerves scream in pure adulation at the sensations you’re providing him. Hoseok had never imagined he would be able to touch someone in his long life.

As such, the very idea of being kissed like this was a concept so foreign that he genuinely had not even imagined it. He had fleeting thoughts of what kissing you might feel like, but he tried to push those away because that would merely lead to heartache.

Hoseok would never know the feeling of your body beneath his lips like you were doing to him, he would never know the taste of your mouth or anything like that because to kiss him was to die. And he would spend the rest of his life fighting death for you if he had to.

But he had never considered the fact that you could do this to him. That you could explore his body as expertly as you were doing now, letting your lips brush over the dips and curves of the muscles that strained beneath your touch. Warm softness against his over sensitized nerves while your hands move along his waist and stomach in an almost mesmerising dance.

He wasn’t sure whether he was coming or going, whether he was alive or dead, whether he was imagining this or not. All he knew was that all he could focus on was the feeling of your lips, so gentle and tender as you made sure to go slow and acclimatise him to the feelings you were overloading his body with. 

The words to thank you wouldn’t form in his throat, not when his fists are gripping the covers of your bed so tightly and his body is so tense. You must take his movements the wrong way as you stop, lifting up to look at him with a frown of concern while one hand rubs at his side comfortingly and he almost whines at the loss of touch.

“Are you okay?” The fact that you were so willing to stop just to check on him makes him feel warm all over and he has to swallow a few times, licking his lips to provide enough moisture for him to talk as he nods.

“Yes. Yes I am...I am okay. I just...this is...I have never...are you okay doing this? You do not have to, not for me. I do not want you to do something you are unsure of.” He means every word he says, and the way your face creases in bemusement tells him that you understand his earnest meaning.

Leaning over him, he swallows even harder at the sudden proximity of your faces while a panic overwhelms him at how close your lips are. “Please do not kiss me.” He blurts out, not even caring that the words come out of nowhere.

You freeze in response, brow creasing and he realises that you’ve forgotten about his warning. Or maybe you simply thought because his touch didn’t hurt you then his kiss wouldn’t either. But he refused to risk that. He couldn’t risk that. His touch was merely pain, his kiss was death.

Without him even realising, his hand rises and gently smoothes away the frown on your brow and he marvels at how soft you feel beneath his own finger tips. Despite his words, you’re still close enough that he can feel the invisible caress of your breath, warm on his cheek and he marvels at how...intimate it feels. 

This is as close as he can get to you without kissing you and causing harm, causing his throat to tighten as he inhales deeply. It’s only then that he looks back into your eyes, taking in the confusion deep inside them as they dart across his face, taking in every tiny movement.

“Why can’t I kiss you?” And then he realises that you have forgotten what he had told you so long ago. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised with this. It’s an unusual fact that he cannot kiss, and he doesn’t hold it against you that you don’t remember his warning. He’s just glad that he remembered.

His hand gently runs along your face, thumb stroking at the impossibly velvet softness of your cheek and staring at it in awe for a moment before his mind catches up and he responds. “I told you a long time ago, when we first met. Or rather, when I was cleaning you so perhaps the trauma means you do not remember. I am reaper. You cannot kiss me as if you did...or if...my lips were to touch anywhere on you...then I would kill you and pull your soul from your body.”

As he says the words, his mind supplies a horrific set of images of him doing just that; him taking you in his arms and pressing his lips to your own. For one brief moment, it’s blissful but then time freezes in its usual way and he’s pulling your soul from your body.

The very thought of it strikes him hard and he feels an agony inside his chest like he’s never experienced. Frowning deeply, he lays on hand over the place where it hurts the most and rubs slightly, puzzlement lacing his every movement and he doesn’t notice the way you watch him with careful eyes that warm pleasingly.

“If I remember correctly, and I may be remembering this wrong of course, but did you not also tell me that you cannot touch humans because your touch brings pain? You do not hurt me.” Fingers that were rough with calluses formed over a long period of time played with his own, but he still thought they were still some of the softest things he’d had ever had the privilege of touching.

He remains silent as you play with his hands, his own far bigger than yours and he rests his palm against your own, spreading both your fingers wide and smiling at the difference in size. You were strong enough to kill a human man, when you were not cornered of course, and yet you felt so small and dainty here like this. 

Wrapping his long fingers around your own, he feels yet another strange pulling in his chest as a swell of...protective feelings blooms deep within. Hoseok has only known you for a month, and most of that time has been spent helping you to heal and keeping watch over you, yet he knows deep down inside that he would protect you from anything.

Not that you would need his protection once you were fully healed. He knew that you would never let yourself be taken unawares from now on, yet the feelings still bubbled within him alongside a righteous fury at those who had hurt you so.

“No...I do not hurt you. But my touch would simply be pain...the death of your nerves around whatever area I touched. It would hurt, but that would be it. My kiss...would be death itself. I can’t...I can’t risk that. What if are you immune? Then you live. But what if you aren’t? I...I cannot be responsible for your…” Hoseok is surprised by how his throat tightens abruptly at the final word, his breath short suddenly while he feels...he doesn’t know what he feels but he does not feel well. 

The very idea of you not existing is a pain he never knew he could feel.

As if you can tell his emotions, even though you have no empathic skills as far as he is aware, you cooed to him in reassuring sounds while your free hand cups his face and strokes in comforting movements that have him breathing a little easier. When his gaze finally refocuses on you, you smile tenderly at him before moving closer until your nose rests against his so lightly that he’s not even sure if he can actually feel it.

This close, he finds himself in silent awe as he takes in how truly beautiful you are. An old scar bisects an eyebrow while another makes its way across your cheek, the skin is not as smooth as everything else and yet he thinks it just makes you look even more handsome. He gets the sudden thought that he could spend hours looking at you and never tire of it.

“It is okay Hoseok. I will not kiss you…” You trail off, your words so incredibly light that it’s a strain even for him to hear them. “But that does not mean I cannot kiss you elsewhere, correct?”

A brow rises at your question and his throat convulses reflexifly. The very thought of feeling your lips on his body again makes him feel like he has lightning in his veins, his senses positively crackling with anticipation and he lets out a puff of air without meaning to, internally wincing due to your close proximity but you don’t say anything about it.

Instead, at his tiny nod, you smile before slowly moving your face along his, nuzzling your nose against his before your lips find their place at his jawline. The sensation is even more overwhelming that before and he struggles to swallow for a moment, his throat feeling tight and yet he would rather kill a thousand humans than ask you to stop what you’re doing right now.

Hoseok has never once indulged in anything in his life. But he wants to indulge in this. He wants to fully commit himself into this influx of feelings that you incite in him until he can’t even think straight anymore. Or maybe just that he can’t even think.

As your mouth slowly trails along his jaw, he lets out a whisper soft whine as you press an open mouthed kiss to the strained flesh of his throat. He had never known that this was such a sensitive area, even though he had seen many human’s pay special attention to this area when they were engaging in their sexual desires.

Now he understood why.

A husky laugh leaves your mouth, vibrating along his skin and he shivers from the sensation, positive that his mind will short out with the sheer awareness he has of his body right now. Hoseok thinks he finally understands why humans seem to seek out the pleasures of the flesh so ardently, why it seems to rule their minds sometimes until it’s all they can think about. 

Because if this is merely what your mouth on his throat feels like...he can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like on other areas of his body. Areas that he knows are far more sensitive to this kind of touching than anywhere else on his body.

He should know, he’s seen enough humans engaging in it for him to have gained a healthy curiosity as to why they were so insistent on this activity. Even when it came with punishment if they had found out.

As you move along his skin, your hands make quick work of stroking along his chest and stomach in long, slow movements that acclimatise him to being touched far quicker than he could’ve possibly imagined. A deep groan falls from his mouth as his eyes close of their own accord when he feels the wet heat of your mouth as your press an open kiss to the vulnerable skin between his neck and collarbone.

It’s a sensation he’d never even thought to imagine and it feels better than he could have ever thought. You hum happily against him, lips curling up of your own accord as his obvious pleasure satisfies you in a way he didn’t understand.

How could you enjoy doing this to him so much when you knew he could not reciprocate? That he would never be able to kiss along your collarbone in the same way you were doing to him, leaving behind a trail of wetness that cooled quickly in the midmorning air.

Oh, how he wished that he could.

It made him feel bizarrely inadequate suddenly and his hands move up to lift your head, admiring the way your pupils seemed to be larger than before and how your lips are slightly more swollen. He ponders momentarily if that is because of what you had been doing, but he doesn’t understand the biology of it all to make a properly educated guess.

“I want to do something for you. Please. I...I feel a little useless here. And...selfish. Because this should not be all about me.” You make a soft noise of repudiation and he shakes his head firmly, letting his thumbs stroke along your cheeks gently and admiring the way you lean into his touch. “Please...show me...how I can do something for you. Please. There must be something.”

There’s a brief hesitation in you as you pause, looking down at him with emotions that he doesn’t understand before you pull your lower lip between white teeth, chewing for a moment before letting it slip back out. He can’t help but watch the motion, surprised by the stirring in his groin.

You shift a little from your position next to him before nodding, eyes lowering in a sudden shy movement that has his heart beating a little faster than normal. Slowly, you shift until you’re kneeling on the bed before you move one leg over his waist. In this position, he’s given a perfect view up your glorious body and his mouth falls open as he gazes upon the sheer beauty he’s being blessed with.

Your dress pools at his waist, the material drawn up to reveal the bare expanse of your thighs and calves. He has the sudden and intense urge to lift that soft material, to allow him to see what lies between your legs and he frowns slightly at that thought. Hoseok knows what will be there, and he’s surprised at how eager his thoughts are given he’s never been bothered about the idea before.

But then again, he’s never had anyone straddling him on a bed like this. 

A surprised noise leaves your mouth as you wriggle once more, eyes widening as they lock onto his while your mouth falls open into a pretty ‘o’. He tilts his head in concern, wondering if perhaps you’re injured or something but instead you just grin at him.

“You seem to be enjoying this more than I anticipated.” You tease him, words filled with an intimate joy. At the way his brow creases, you smirk and move one hand to slide underneath the folds of your dress and he lets out a shocked gasp at the jolt of pleasure that sparks from where your hand presses against the crotch of his trousers.

Grinning, you press your hand harder and he finds himself moving aside your dress to frown down in surprise at his groin. Hoseok knew logically what was happening, he’d been around humans for a long time and there were many men who were proud of what they held between their legs, but he had never experienced it himself before.

Still, he’s not sure whether to be proud of the fact that his penis does in fact work like a human’s, which likely means he could perform during intercourse, or humiliated because you get to witness the first time it ever happened. Or maybe you’re disgusted by the fact he evidently finds you attractive enough to gain an erection.

“I am sorry.” He blurts out, wanting to avoid any offence. There are many women that find it revolting to be the object of a man’s attraction, particularly when it’s so obvious and Hoseok is partially mortified that his first experience with this is being witnessed in such close proximity by you. The very reason for his excitement.

A loud laugh leaves you, your face creasing in amusement as you lean down to press a sweet kiss to his nose that leaves him blushing even deeper. He doesn’t know why you’re laughing and part of him is embarrassed, wondering if you’re laughing at the fact he’s hard for you. But you assuage his fears seconds later.

“Why are you sorry? Because you find me attractive?” You shake your head fondly, letting your fingers run along his chest slowly and tracing shapes he doesn’t understand onto him. “No. Don’t feel ashamed for it. I’m honoured that you think that way, truly.”

Hoseok doesn’t move for a moment, his eyes firmly looking away from your gaze and his cheeks ablaze until you gently tilted his head back to yours. What he sees there is soft amusement and something else, something he doesn’t quite recognise deep in your eyes. Frowning slightly, he reaches up and runs the tips of his fingers along your face slowly, taking in all the ridges and softness that make your beauty. 

“You truly are beautiful.”

Now it’s your turn to duck your head down, shyness written in every inch of that astonishingly arresting face and he can’t help but smile, wondering where your earlier confidence had gone. He knew that you had far more experience in this area, only two weeks ago you had told him of the couplings you’d had with another harpy, a male. 

Apparently he had been a childhood friend, and you had hoped one day that he would be your mate. But as with the rest of your family, he was no longer here. It made something twist inside Hoseok to think that you were all alone, but he was here with you now.

Still, he was slightly bemused to find that he was actually intimidated at the idea of anything sexual with you. Hoseok hadn’t even known his sexual organs even worked until right now and his emotions and feelings were in a multitude of states he couldn’t even begin to work out. The experience you brought would be appreciated because it meant you would be able to help him through everything, but it made him shy at the thought he might do something wrong.

It’s not like he’d made it a habit of the years to spy on the sexual behaviour of humans.

“I think you may be the only person alive who would think that about me.” A scoff leaves his mouth without him even realising and your brow raised slowly, lips quirking slightly and he watched the colour’s change within. Since you had woken, your eyes had no longer been the solid black that they had when he had found you and he wondered how they worked.

“Well...technically I am not alive.” He grinned and you laughed in response, automatically moving down to kiss him before stopping as his hand pressed against your chest. Your face cringe, mouthing out a sorry before you shake your head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Okay, so you want to do something for me, correct?” Hoseok nodded eagerly, excited to learn and excited to bring you pleasure and happiness.

Chewing your lip slowly, you take his hand and rest it on your breast, the mound soft and supple beneath his fingers underneath your dress. His hand squeezes gently without him even realising and he mutters an apology, but you simply smile and encourage him to explore. It awed him just how...soft you feel. He doesn’t have another word to describe it, but you simply feel soft.

A shiver runs through as his hand moves and he feels the hardening of a small nub under his palm, moving it away just enough to spy your nipple firm against the flowing material of your dress. Absentmindedly, he runs his thumb over it and gets a responding moan fall from your lips, eyes closing and he mentally takes note of that.

“Does this feel good?” He doesn’t realise that he’s vocalised that until you nod and give him an affirmative hand, taking your own hand and guiding him to what you like most. While you do that, your other hand comes to rest on his chest, thumb moving over his own nipple and he jerks slightly in response, eyes widening as he looks down at his chest in amazement.

“It does!” His innocent response has you laughing loudly, letting go of his hand to lean down and press a gentle kiss to his jaw, almost affectionately. 

But then he lets his hands move down your body, running his palms along the curves of your waist and the expanse of your stomach, sliding around and finding the solid roundness of your behind. It all feels so new and interesting to him that he doesn’t even pay attention to your face anymore, instead focusing firmly on what his hands are doing as they take in the exquisite shape of you, committing it to memory.

You let him explore as he pleases, watching him intently and thoroughly enjoying the feel of his touch if your soft sighs and shivers are anything to go by. Hoseok can understand why humans like doing this now, it feels...exhilarating to explore you like this.

“Do you want to go further?” Your voice is deeper than before, filled with a husk that makes his head tilt on the pillow and you smile. It’s only then that he notes your eyes darkening ever so slightly, leading him to wonder if they’re influenced by extreme emotion.

But he can’t stop the way his head nods, a deep and carnal need pushing him to explore your body even more, keep going until there is nothing about you he doesn’t know.

And with that, you gently guide his fingers to the place that had got him so worked up earlier. It has the same effect now, his body tensing slightly while he breathes ever so slightly faster, lungs working harder.

He expects you to simply guide his hand beneath the fabric of the dress, but you surprise him once his hand is centered on your body, grasping the material and carefully pulling it free from your body. Hoseok’s breath leaves him in a single woosh, his body feeling almost fuzzy as his mind tries to take in the image of your naked body before him.

It’s silly really, he shouldn’t be this affected given how he had seen you naked the first day he’d ever met you, and for two weeks you had laid in bed without anything over your torso. Yet, he had been beyond polite with that and had refused to look at you in any way that could be misconstrued, not when you had been so weak and vulnerable.

Now was different, now was you actively wanting him to look at your body while you were awake and healthy. 

Swallowing hard, Hoseok’s hand shake ever so slightly and he looks at them, brow creasing as he wonders why. But if he’d been in awe of your beauty beforehand, then he had no words that could be used to describe you now.

He doesn’t know how long he simply stares at you, greedy eyes taking in every inch of exposed skin, unwilling to leave any part of you left unseen. You seem to tire of it after a few minutes, though he can see from the warm glow of satisfaction in your eyes that you’re pleased at his observations.

Reaching for his hand, you slowly centre it again on your body, pressing his palm to your stomach before moving it down. Velvet skin meets his touch, and he notes that your own nails have grown into their familiar black claws from excitement, leading him to wonder momentarily how you manage to pleasure yourself.

But then that thought vanishes from his mind as he feels the coarse hair that surrounds the area that you obviously want him most. He takes the initiative after that, moving of his own accord as he explores your most private area, fascinated at the way you shiver with delight as his fingertips dance along your inner thighs.

He doesn’t waste much time though, his eyes caught on the slick softness resting firmly in the centre of your thighs. And so he runs a finger along the exposed flesh slowly, watching with fascination as your legs tighten around him and abdomen clenches, a breathy gasp leaving you.

It’s impossibly soft, the flesh giving way to his fingers easily as he rubs a slow circle around the engorged nub, enjoying the way you shiver and shudder in pleasure. But that has nothing on when he slides his fingers further along, slipping between your folds and discovering the slick wetness that awaited him.

For a moment, he was surprised, looking at the sticky residue on his fingers before sliding them back, smearing your own excitement all over your clit. It must be more pleasing for you, as immediately you whimper, hands tightening on your breasts as you squeeze them for more.

“Keep doing that, in circles, a little harder,” He does as you ask, applying a little more pressure and moving as you’d requested. “Yes, that feels good.”

It’s surprising how content he is to simply bring you pleasure, watching in delight as you writhe atop him, your movements enticing and exciting all the more because he has the knowledge that they’re being caused by him. For the first time, his touch is bringing pleasure and not pain.

You’re very vocal for him as well, directing him exactly how to touch you to bring yourself the maximum amount of pleasure and he’s glad for it. He would have no idea what to do properly otherwise, which is why he’s even more pleased when you push at his hand, his fingers sliding along your folds until he reaches the source of your wetness.

Your entrance is beyond slick, thighs shining with your own juices and he stares in fascination for a moment as the tips of his fingers disappear inside you. A soft moan from you tells him that you enjoy that, and he carefully slides one finger as far as he can. The moan this time comes from him, the tightness and sheer warmth of the walls that surround his finger sending an instant fantasy to his head about what this would feel like with his dick inside you instead.

Experimentally, he moves that finger in and out of you slowly, rubbing along the smooth ridges of your walls as he does so before he finds himself sliding a second in, a sudden need to stretch you a little further taking over. 

“Oh gods, Hoseok...keeping doing that. Rub right there.” You pant out, eyes clenched tightly closed as he curves his fingers and rubs along a certain spot. Head tilting, he carries on doing so, speeding up his movements when he notices you seem to like it faster and harder with how your body shudders and the obscene noises leave your mouth quicker.

As he focuses on the pace he manages to keep inside you, awed at how wet you get as he does so with your excitement spreading down his wrist and making him get a little more excited as well, you take the initiative of your own as well to reach between your thighs and stroke at your clit in fast, small circles. 

It’s interesting to note that your claws vanish as you do so, causing his brows to raise slightly but then he lets out a soft whiney gasp as he takes in the ridiculously attractive sight above him. You writhe and wriggle, pressing against the hardness in this trousers that causes him to wince slightly but he can’t deny that it feels good too.

“Keep going Hoseok, keep going.” And he does so, clenching his jaw as the muscles in his bicep strain from the unusual movement but he can’t stop now, there’s no way he wants to stop because all he wants to see what will happen when you reach that edge. The edge he’s heard humans reach, and knows exists, but has never seen it in real life.

Then, with a keening and high pitched cry that soon turns into a deep moan, your body shudders violently. Deep convulsions cause your muscles to tighten, hands clenching tightly while your head falls back onto your shoulders and the tightness of your channel increases until it’s a struggle for Hoseok to continue fingering you, grunting from how you clench around him like a vice.

But he continues on, stroking the twitching muscles and elongating your orgasm until you finally pull your fingertips away from your engorged clit, whimpering and whining as he continues before pushing his arm away too. Looking at it with wide eyes, Hoseok stretches his fingers out and watches in wonderment as your excitement glistens in the light, stringy stickiness looking so enticing that he can’t help but place them into his mouth, tasting you for the first time.

And with that, he lets out a deep groan, his eyes closing tightly at the taste of you. Logically, he knows that your mouth would likely taste nothing like this and yet he has to stifle the desperate urge to find out for himself, instead focusing on the delicious taste on his fingers. 

“You taste phenomenal.” He mutters, fingers already moving to slip between your lips to coat them once more and you laugh tiredly, chest heaving for breath before grabbing his arm before he can.

“Thank you, but let’s not do that. At least, not yet.” Hoseok can’t help but pout then, eyes focused on the wet mess between your thighs as he fights the urge to taste you once more.

“But I cannot taste you any other way.” You chuckled lightly at that, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses to his chest that had his skin feeling like it was on fire. Lips as soft as rose petals drag across his skin as you move down his body, crawling backwards until you’re hovering with your face over his groin.

“I promise, you can taste me plenty. But for now, I would like to reciprocate the pleasure you gave to me.” He frowns, head tilting and you chuckle at the confusion that must be written all over his face. Kissing the band of his trousers, his abdominal muscles jump of their own accord and he suddenly wants you to touch him in a much more intimate way than you ever had.

When he doesn’t give a negative, you tap his thigh and tell him to remove the final clothing, leading to his trousers vanishing just as his shirt had. And he watches in wonder as his cock bobs in the air for a moment, the weight of its thick and hard shaft pulling it down until the bulbous head almost touches his stomach.

A soft laugh causes him to look back at you, the amusement in your tired face causing him to smile in response too. “Your reactions are so sweet. It is like you have never seen your own erection before.”

“I have not. This is the first time I have ever...been erect. I have had no reason to before.” His cheeks flush at the admission before he pokes at the veined shaft, watching the way it sways before he lets out a contemplative noise. “Am I of an adequate size? Would I even fit inside you? Or am I too small?”

Now you laugh loudly, hands resting on his firm thighs as your head tilts forward, forehead almost hitting his cock and he frowns in response. He may not have any experience in this, but he’s very sure that he doesn’t like his penis being laughed at.

But you console him quickly, able to sense the change in his emotions before he’s even worked them out and press a gentle kiss to his chest. “You are perfect. I promise. Do not worry, you will fit. I look forward to the day that we are ready for that.”

“Can that day be today?” He blurts out without thinking, eyes widening as he recognises what he’s just said. It causes you to pause though, brows rising before your eyes flick up to his, watching him carefully.

“I...I was simply going to use my mouth on you. I was not planning to have sex with you, I did not want your first time to be rushed.” It takes Hoseok a moment to understand why that was apparently important and his face changes into comprehension, mouth opening.

“Oh...you do not need to worry about that. I am more than happy to engage in sexual relations with you. Right now. If you want to that is.” Your lip purses out as you sit up, the glistening between your thighs attracting his attention before he can help it and he wonders momentarily when he became so single focused.

Yet you don’t answer him, simply looking at the wall and his eyes flick up to you, wondering what you’re thinking about. And then you crawl up his body slightly, and before he can even say anything further, you grasp him tightly.

He’s about to gasp out at the sensation, the feel of your fingers on him beyond exciting, yet that gasp turns into a strangled moan as you line yourself up and sink down onto him. There is no waiting, no slowness or shyness. Instead you are bold and quick.

Before his mind can even comprehend what has happened, you are seated on him fully, his cock buried deep inside the tight, wet heat between your thighs. If he had thought that his fingers inside you was glorious, then it has nothing compared to the way you feel around him now, his eyes scrunching closed and jaw tightening as his hands grip your hips hard.

“Fuck.” Is all he managed to get out, the word a choked whisper spoken from behind his clenched teeth and you let out a breathless laugh, the movement causing your internal muscles to squeeze him quickly and he whines.

“Oh wow. You feel even better than I imagined. Yes, you are most definitely the right size Hoseok.” The words are like music to his ears and you wiggle your hips in a slow circle, causing his cock to shift inside you and both moaned loudly at the sensation.

It’s almost overwhelming for Hoseok, he almost doesn’t know what to think or how to feel. All he can focus on right then and there, is you wrapped around him so tightly. He takes a moment to send a quick wish that he is not interrupted with a death call right now, because he’s not sure he would have the willpower to leave the delightful depths of you.

You apparently have more mental capacity left than him though as you slowly begin to move on top of him, hips lifting up until he swears he’s going to slip out before sliding back down. It’s almost agonising how pleasurable it feels, his mind so completely overwhelmed by these new and exciting sensations that he doesn’t feel in control of himself or his body.

The fact he can’t see himself either means that he doesn’t notice when his own eyes bleed black to match yours beneath his closed eyelids, a frown lining his brow as unstoppable noises spill from his throat with each glorious glide of you against him. He most definitely understands why humans enjoy this now.

And then you begin to squeeze your muscles rhythmically, tightening and loosening on his cock and a strangled moan leaves him. His hands clasp your hips even harder, a desperation he doesn’t particularly understand but knows he just has to follow taking over his body and before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s thrusting up into you to meet your movements.

“Shit, shit.” He mutters along with a lot of unintelligible noises, gibberish falling from his lips as the pleasure in his body builds and builds, his whole focus entirely on his cock and the fact that he would rather cease existing than follow this feeling over the precipice he feels he’s approaching.

Muscles tightening, he lets out a high pitched whine from his throat, almost breathy and whistling but he doesn’t notice as he bucks up into you, pressing himself firmly inside you as far as he can get while that exquisite tension in his body snaps. Head thrown back, his exhale is a gratified groan as lightning bolts of pleasure zip through his body, his cock twitching inside you as he spills deep into your wet warmth.

The whole time he orgasms, for the first time in his entire existence, you coo softly to him, running your hands along his chest and raking your nails over his skin, sending goosebumps pimpling everywhere. And you continue to ride him, wet heat moving him in and out of you in a constant rhythm that has him sputtering noises, muscles clenching him greedily and adding to the pleasure he’s already experiencing.

And then, it’s all too much for him. His whines are no longer excited and needy, but instead laced with almost pain as the sensations become too strong, too overwhelming for him and he has a deep need to stop it. As much as he adores the tight heat of you, his cock screams out from over sensitivity, wanting the sensations to stop and he doesn’t know what to do, half pushing against you but not wanting to be selfish and deny you.

But again, you read him better than he thought you might and lift your hips off him slowly, letting him slip out of you and fall back onto his stomach with a wet slap. He doesn’t look at you for a few seconds, eyes still closed before he finally takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down.

The first thing he notices is his cock, now slowly shrinking in size once more but he takes in the sight of your excitement coating him in a slick mess. Secondly, he focuses in on between your legs, your clit swollen and wet until his notices the thick, white liquid that slowly begins to drip from your entrance.

He doesn’t understand for a moment before he remembers the times that he’s taken a human’s soul after sex. Those scenes had been given an uninterested glance from him, but he realised what that was leaking from you now.

That was him, his own excitement, his own release that he had ejaculated into you as he orgasmed so wonderfully. The sight of it is strangely arousing, generating some feelings deep within himself that he doesn’t understand but he can’t take his eyes from the sight as you drip onto him.

“You did not orgasm again.” He finally says, voice breathless and concern in his face as he looks up at you. Smiling softly at him, you lean down to press a kiss to his chin before nuzzling your face into his neck. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your body, uncaring about either of your nakedness and he finds a different kind of pleasure in the moment of intimacy.

“It is fine, I did not want to. I had already had my pleasure, that was about you. Introducing you to sex and the joys of it.” Hoseok doesn’t know what to say for a moment and he gets a bizarre urge to kiss your head, knowing that he can’t yet still wanting to despite himself. So instead he hums, running his fingers along your back until he brushes against your scars.

You shift slightly as he does so, mildly uncomfortable and he quickly moves away. He knows they don’t hurt like they used to, but it must be odd to feel them like that all the same.

“I could pleasure you again? If you would like?” Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh and he gets the sense that you are sleepy, filled with a bone weary tiredness. Strangely, for someone who never used to sleep, he feels the same way, a lethargy that desires for him to drift off.

“Well...thank you. I enjoyed that, far more than I thought I would. It was...everything.” But you don’t respond, and when he shifts his head away to look at your face as best he can, he sees your eyes are closed and breathing evened out, fast asleep.

Smiling to himself, he squeezes you a little tighter before sliding out from your grasp, covering you up with the bed covers and clothing himself in what he had deemed his night clothes. Settling onto the floor in his usual sleeping place, lest he accidentally brushed his lips against you somehow in the night, he grins as he recalls what had just happened.

Strange feelings bubble in his stomach once more and he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling as he tries to figure them out. It’s hard, trying to work out emotions like this when you had never experienced them before, he thinks to himself. But he knows this one is important because it involves you, and he wants to figure it out.

Glancing up to where your hand rests hanging off the bed, he reaches up and holds it gently, hoping it brings you at least a mere piece of the comfort and happiness it brings him.

-

The next few weeks pass by strangely fast. Hoseok has always had a strange concept of time. As someone who is immortal, created and spending most of his life living outside of the reality of actual life, time is simply something humans measure the day by. To him, it’s insignificant.

Years can pass easily for him without his notice, the slow rise and fall of empires around the work attracting a passing attention for him. But as someone who was not connected to the real world in any tangible way, it also meant that the passing of time so quickly without him realising had left him very unconnected to the world.

He had been merely a passive observer, but for the first time, with you, he was an active participant. And he was horrified at how fast time seemed to go when he was with you. Beforehand, days would slip by and he would merely travel from one place to the other, taking in the beautiful sights and merely contemplating mundane things that would enter his head.

Hoseok would openly admit that his life before you had been bland and dull, unsure what he did with all that time. Now though, he had you to laugh with, to work with, to talk with, to sigh in pleasure with. Despite your initial assumptions the morning after his first sexual encounter with you, Hoseok had not become the equivalent of a teenage boy discovering girl’s for the first time.

In fact, he had remained more focused on you and providing you with all the sexual gratification he could with his hands and more. His own pleasure was merely a secondary byproduct, an excellent side benefit if you will.

As much as he liked the sex with you, he simply enjoyed spending time with you more. It made him feel warm and soft when he was in your presence, hating those moments when he felt the call of death luring him away from you. He fulfilled his duty of course, taking the souls of humans and leading them to the other side, but now he felt a strange sense of connection to some of them.

To the woman who had died in childbirth and had been overwhelmed with grief at never getting to see her child or husband again. To the man who died in war, leaving behind his family. To the child who would never be able to experience all that life could offer.

Hoseok...empathised with them, in a way he never had before. What had once been a cold and empty space inside him now overflowing with warmth and emotion, so many feelings that he experienced in a multitude of ways. Some of them he recognised and could name, others were foreign to him.

Part of him wanted to ask you, to explain what he felt and see if you could shed some light on all these strange new experiences that rolled through his body. But then something deep inside him that he didn’t understand, refused to let him. Something that made him feel slightly ill at the thought of explaining his thoughts and feelings to you.

He listened to that instinct, unsure why but unwilling to do something that his body felt so vehemently against.

But despite all of that, he enjoyed his time with you. You showed him how to garden properly once your back healed up fully, your movements still ever so awkward as you got used to walking and running properly without staggering from the lack of balance you had due to no longer having your wings.

He found pulling out the weeds from the dirt and planting new life rather satisfying and relaxing, losing himself for hours if left to it in the dark soil as he took care of the tiny, fragile plants. You found his newfound love of gardening amusing but had decided to leave it to him, pointing out that you often got dirt stuck far beneath your claws that would grow when your emotions did.

While you liked to garden too, growing vegetables and herbs that helped to sustain you, it gave you too much time to think and he had observed the way your body changed rapidly when you did so. Eyes darkening to black before shifting back to their original colour, black claws growing from your nails into sharp points and white teeth becoming far more lethal before blunting again.

It was fascinating to watch, but he had discovered that it also unnerved you. Without your wings now, you could resemble a human if you were able to control your emotions, and the prospect of potentially being able to trade with the human villages was exciting to you. Particularly when Hoseok had pointed out that he could take you around the world, fill your garden with spices, fruits and vegetables from far off places.

But you were still learning to control them, your emotions more unstable since the attack according to you. It made his heart hurt to know that you were still being affected, but the logical side of him knew that you were likely to suffer unseen side effects for some time. The attack had been brutal, and you had thought you were going to die after all that pain.

You still suffered horrendous nightmares during those dark hours, whimpering softly before thrashing in bed as your wails pitched in noise. It broke his heart to hear, unsure why your pain and fear affected him so badly but desperately wanting to comfort you.

He didn’t touch you though. He had done that once and you had flung out a clawed hand, black talons scraping down his chest in your terror. It had hurt, he’d noticed that everything seemed more intense nowadays instead of how it had been before he had met you, but he hadn’t cared.

Not when you had woken, with tears streaming down your face and fear etched deep into your eyes. It had morphed quickly into horror at the sight of the claw marks on his chest but he would coo to you quietly, reaching out and stroking your cheek in reassuring motions as the wounds on his chest healed rapidly.

He tried to keep you happy though, to make your life as easy as possible and he suspected that you had embraced the task of teaching him properly about the world and how to live with it with open arms. It was something he appreciated and he was quickly growing to enjoy a lot of things he would have never considered before.

You had shown him how to fix one of the fences that had broken recently, working with his hands in a way that was oddly satisfying and he was eager to learn more. But most of all, he had come to treasure the quiet moments of peace and serenity with you.

Like now, for instance. During the time that you had still been bedridden from the wounds on your back, you had spent a lot of time talking to him about a multitude of things. From his own knowledge of reapers and death to the mythology extending harpies to even more mundane things such as how to create clothing and jewellery.

But you’d also talked of how you enjoyed walking the forest trails or hiking up the steep mountain sides, luxuriating in the beauty of nature here. On your more daring days, apparently you had even flown but that wouldn’t be happening anymore.

Still though, Hoseok wanted to bring that sweet smile to your face and bring some peace into the life that he had made hectic by accident. And so he had asked if you would take him along one of your favourite trails, to explore the forest with him and show him why you loved nature so much.

Over his years, he’d seen many astonishing scenes of nature from impossibly large canyons cut into the ground to endless blue ocean and more. He swore that he would show you some of these sights one day, promising that he’d seen things that you couldn’t even imagine but for now...he wanted to explore your home with you.

And so you had pulled on a sturdier pair of boots, casually talking to him about how you made said pair of boots, a dress and a travelling cloak. When the rays of the sun that beamed down from overhead, directly above the clearing your cabin inhabited, he’d been momentarily struck by simply how beautiful you look.

But then you had taken his hand, locking your fingers together, and began walking. For three hours he followed you through the forest, understanding finally why you seemed to enjoy this activity. The gentle sounds of the forest let him know that it was alive, from the rustling of leaves in the wind to the chirping of birds, the call of deer and the chattering of small creatures in the underbrush.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, not until you’d pressed a finger to your own lips before then gesturing out to the forest in general. It was then that he’d focused his senses more intently, determined not to look a fool to you. And it was then that he’d tuned into the sounds and rhythms of life that made up the forest.

Even now, he still looked around in wonder at a new birdsong, eyes eagerly trying to find it to see if you could name it for him. You had an astonishing knowledge of the wildlife and plants of the forest, enough to shame him considering how long he’d existed, but he was pleased that you were so eager to share it with him.

He thought that it might be because you simply hadn’t had anyone to talk to for a long time, but he didn’t mind if that was the reason. It was wonderful to hear the passion and excitement in your voice and he enjoyed learning everything.

A small bird swooped past, its head and wing tips black while the underside was a luscious red and he watched it go before pointing. “That is...a bullfinch...right?” 

The quizzical look on his face is met with a bright smile from you, pleasure at his willingness to learn clearly present as you nod happily. “It is! You remembered.”

Hoseok has to bite his lip to stop his own smile from spreading, bashful as he looked down at the ground to avoid your gaze. The trail here was barely visible, hidden beneath fallen leaves of burnished copper, fiery orange, warm brown and sun-kissed gold but you seemed to know your way instinctively.

“I always remember what you tell me.” He said softly, the words so gentle that he’s positive they disappear on the breeze but you pause in your movements, looking at him with eyes that are slightly wider than normal and an inquisitive hint in them.

“Oh really? What was the first thing I ever said to you?” You query and his brow rises in amusement, the corner of his lips quirked up.

“You said thank you. That was the first thing you ever said to me.” The atmosphere between you both seems to deepen then with something he doesn’t quite understand, a multitude of emotions flickered over your face as thoughts he can’t hear filter through your mind. He wonders what you’re thinking.

Maybe it’s regret, that the first words exchanged between you both had been tinged in such sorrow and pain. But as much as he wishes he could go back in time and save you from being hurt in the first place, he still treasures whatever words you are willing to give him.

“Was it? I do not really remember. It was...a painful time.” You murmur, looking down at where his hand is joined with yours, lips twisting bitterly as memories of the attack obviously plague you. Hoseok feels distress at that, his chest tightening and he scrambles to find a way to distract you instead.

“That is good really, because my first words to you were not as memorable. Best you forget and instead focus on everything I have said to you since.” Swinging your joined hands, he gives you a bright smile in an attempt to cheer you up and it seems to work, your own lips breaking into a begrudging smile of amusement before you step closer to him, the heat of your body warm against him.

“I can accept that. You have said many wonderful things to me since.” 

“Really? I do not think I have said anything that is truly memorable.” He says, uncertainty lacing his voice as he frowns and tries to recall if he said anything that would make you remember it. The way you’re laughing tells him that perhaps he has.

“Oh really? I consider apologising for getting an erection because you found me attractive memorable.” His cheeks flush at that, embarrassment flowing through his body and making him feel far hotter than he should. Thankfully, he’s become a little better at speech in the bedroom.

Not that you really had a bedroom, considering it was a one room cabin but the point stands.

“I would prefer if you would forget that.”

“How about I pretend I forgot it? Because it was cute and I liked it.” The snort he lets out surprises him, causing his eyes to widen and you giggle loudly, the sound so bubbly and sweet that he’s enraptured as he watches you, something deep inside him feeling warm in a very different sort of way.

And he’s so caught up in admiring your happiness that at first, it doesn’t register in his mind what happens next. At least consciously, because his subconscious reacts immediately and he frowns for a moment, the lack of sound in the world startling to him but then he realises.

Recoiling back, he almost trips over his own feet as he looks in horror at your frozen visage, lips still pursed together from where you had just kissed him in your blissful happiness. It was the one thing he had to continuously remind you of over the last few weeks and there had been many close calls, but he’d been too late this time, too slow.

A horrible sound scrapes from his throat as his trembling hands cup your face as he staggers back forward, realisation of what had just happened still trying to slowly filter in his unwilling mind. The gentle light of the evening sun gives you an ethereal look as it dapples you in golden rays that manage to make their way through the thick forest canopy and his heart clenched tightly as he realises that he’s never seen a sight more magnificent in his life.

“No, no. Oh gods no. Please no. Please,” The words scrape from his throat, each word laced tightly with pain and anguish as he finally realises what’s happened and begs whoever may be listening. “Please no, please please please. No, not her. Please not her. Please not her, please don’t take her. Please.”

Tears quickly welled in his eyes before spilling forwards, sliding down his cheeks in a river of pain before falling to the forest floor. As soon as they left him, they pause in midair, waiting for time to resume. A constellation of his anguish that glitters in the light; almost beautiful.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers brokenly, resting his forehead against your own while your noses kiss in a gentle touch. It had been the only way he could kiss you for weeks, to show his deep affection and love for you without hurting you.

So many times he had the chance to tell you that, to tell you how he felt for you and so many times he had held back; for fear you would reject him, for fear he was simply projecting, for fear you would not return his fragile, new feelings.

Hoseok regretted that, he regretted it more than anything and another sob wracked his body as he realised that he would never be able to tell you properly now. He would never get to hold your hand as you walked through the woods together, he would never get to see your shy smile when he complimented you, he would never get to watch another sunset with you.

He would never get to love you again.

Slowly, painfully, he closes his eyes and let’s go of all the fantasies he’d let play out for the last few months. He should have known better. He should have known that this was how it would all end. He was a reaper, he brought death and unhappiness to the world. He broke the hearts of thousands by ending the lives of hundreds.

Someone like him would never be allowed to love openly. He knew that now. 

His tears fall onto your cheeks, freezing and he wipes them away slowly as he sniffs, wiping at his nose as he takes in the sight of you. It reminds him of the first time you’d explored him, when you’d been so close that he could take in every part of you without obstruction. Just like then, it makes his heart swell with happiness before it bursts in pain and despair.

Months, he’d had merely months with you. And yet he knew that he should be grateful that he had been granted even that time. Because you had shown him how to love, how to adore someone so completely and live to see them smile. You had shown him how to live, for the first time in his long existence.

“I love you.” He whispered once more, ignoring the way his eyes burn from the tears before he presses his lips to yours. This is the only kiss with you that he’ll be able to remember properly, the brief touch of your lips to his own that had spurred this was already forgotten from his mind in grief.

But this? This was...he wished that you could enjoy it with him. Your lips were as soft as he had always imagined, velvety like a petal and so warm beneath his own. Even though you would never feel it, even though you would never know the sheer depth of his love, he wanted desperately to imprint the passion you had inspired in him.

Pulling away, he looks down at you through watery eyes and resists the urge to breakdown. There’s time for that later. He has the rest of eternity after all. Now...now he has to do what he was made to do. Now he has to lead you to the other side.

He doesn’t want to do this.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands back and takes a deep breath, inhaling until his lungs hurt before letting it out slowly. It doesn’t help, but he tells himself that it does. Mind over matter.

And then, he realises something.

He doesn’t feel the pull of death. He feels nothing coming from you. No pull to signal a reaper is needed to sever the life connection between the physical form and the soul. Oh no, he panics, does that mean someone else is supposed to take your soul? Is he not allowed to because of his connection to you? He doesn’t know how this works for someone who is not human.

He can’t let some random reaper he’s never even seen before be the one to escort you. He has to. Hoseok has to at least tell you how he feels, just once, even if it’s only to your soul before you go. 

A whole new pain crushes his chest and a far away part of his brain is surprised with how many tears he has cried for you. Surely he must not have any left at this point? It feels like he has cried the river Acheron all over again.

But no one arrives. No one comes to take your soul, and a whole new panic overtakes him. You are not human, you are a creature of the supernatural. What if you don’t have a soul to remove? What if...what if nothing happens when you die? He’d never considered that. You were the first supernatural he’d ever met.

What if you didn’t have a reaper?

Oh no, no, no. He’s murmuring nonsense to himself, shaking his head wildly while his hands grip his hair in helpless frustration. No, this can’t be. You can’t...you can’t just...die and then...but if you...your soul...you can’t...he doesn’t...it’s too much.

Hoseok sinks to his knees slowly, the dried branches and leaves beneath him cracking under his weight as he lets out an agonised sound before he leans forward, resting his forehead on his arms as a wail of pure torment leaves him. Did he save your life all those months ago to simply just take it now? And so thoroughly that there will never be any evidence of you? That you won’t even be allowed the luxury of going to the other side?

His tears wet his sleeves as he howls in pain and anger. The disgusting excuse of a human who took your wings from you was given the honour of being allowed to move on and yet you get nothing? How was that fair? How was it fair? It wasn’t fair.

You deserved more. You deserved the best. Whatever was on the other side of the veil of life, you deserved to have the best version of it. You were pure and sweet, a kind heart and a gentle nature that loved even someone as unpure as him, someone who dealt in death. And you were going to get none of it.

Pushing up, he screams out his anguish at how unfair it all is, his head falling back onto his shoulders while his throat strains violently from the force. It echoes around the silent forest, a sound that has never existed in time itself and never will. But it’s only a shadow of the agony he feels in his heart.

Falling forwards again, he spends the next few minutes simply sobbing into his arms. Loathing fills him deeply as despair takes over his body, pained whimpers mixing in to create a quiet symphony of sorrow that only he will hear. Him and the Fates, those cruel masters whose whims he had been a puppet of his whole life. And whom had let him taste happiness only to pull it away just as quickly.

The increasing ache in his mind from the strain of holding time still for so long begins to throb uncomfortably. He has never held time as long as this before, never thought to do so and now he knows that he can’t. Even if he wanted to stay like this, where you’re still alive, beautiful and enchanting, he knows that he can’t.

Hoseok has to let you go. 

Slowly, his body tired from the strain of his grief and the drain on his power, he crawls towards you. Slumping against your legs, he presses his face into the soft fabric of your dress, inhaling deeply and taking in your scent, trying his hardest to imprint the smell into his brain as yet another way to remember you.

He loves your smell. It’s warm and earthy, the rich scent of forest pine and the crispness of a fresh morning. The tiniest hint of spice from your garden, all combining together to create an aroma that is uniquely you.

A soft whimper leaves him as he acknowledges that he will never smell it again. His heart aches fiercely at the thought and he wipes at his nose with the back of his hand before he uses his palm to wipe away the wetness on his face. It doesn’t help much as fresh salty tears replace those gone but he tries to ignore that as he takes in a deep breath to steady himself.

Slowly, painfully, he climbs to his feet. Staring out into the endless trees that surround you both, he concentrates on simply breathing, trying to steady himself for what he has to do next. His left eye twitches as the ache slowly begins to morph into pain that causes his brain to feel oddly fuzzy, his vision blurring, and he knows that he has to let go. 

Squaring his shoulders, he turns back to you and takes in your features one last time. Just once more, while you’re still technically alive. His eyes scan every centimetre of you, drowning in you to force his mind to remember and he feels a sudden flush of regret that there is no proof of what you look like. Nothing for him to look at centuries in the future and remember fondly.

It’s too late now though, and he lets out a shaky sigh before nodding. Moving closer, he rests one hand on the small of your back while the other goes around your shoulder. You’re still warm, and it makes his throat tighten but he pushes it away. He doesn’t want you to fall to the ground, you don’t deserve the indignity of that. 

No, he’ll carry you. He’ll carry you to the great oak in the forest that you’d showed him one week, a bright smile on your face as your features had practically lit from within with excitement at showing him your favourite place. It was a small clearing, meadow grass covering the floor while small dots of purples, yellows, reds and more of wildflowers painted a masterpiece. Above everything, a giant, ancient oak tree had stood keeping careful watch over everything below.

It had been huge, the trunk so big that Hoseok had to lean around to see to the other side while its branches had reached out dramatically, flush with green leaves that swayed gently in the summer breeze. That had been a good day, a day when your back didn’t hurt and Hoseok had simply got to revel in his happiness with you.

He wished he could go back then. It would have been the perfect moment to tell you that he loved you, when the air was strong with the scent of fresh flowers and sunlight. He would bury you under that oak, beneath the blankets of pretty flowers and underneath the boughs of the watchful giant. It was a beautiful place to rest forever, and Hoseok wanted the best for you.

You deserve the best, and though it may not be anything extravagant or awe-inspiring like the humans sought to do with their mausoleums and tombs, it was enough for him. And he knew that it would have been enough for you too. He would tend to that clearing and tree for however long he existed in honour of you.

Licking his lips, he lets out his breath slowly and tightens his grip on your body. A shudder runs through his body but he swallows hard, refusing to let himself fall apart once more. Not now. He can do that again later. 

And with the tiniest amount of effort, he lets go of time. It’s always a relief, that small part of him that he can’t even begin to describe relaxing as he lets go of his power. Normally he doesn’t even notice it, but today it’s obvious. The throbbing behind his eyes vanishes and the intense ache in his head soothes away in an instant.

If only it were that easy to heal his broken heart.

Birds chirping and calling to each other fill his ears instantly, the wind blowing through the trees gently and rustling the leaves and foliage all around while the warmth of the sun beats down on him once more. It would be a lovely scene, a nice place to take a break and enjoy nature but he’s not in the mood.

Instead, he just grips you tighter to him, his eyes scrunched closed as he presses you against his body. He’s not ready to let you fall just yet, not yet. One more moment, he can have one more moment with you.

And then…

“Hoseok...are you...you’re hugging me pretty tightly.” The words take a few moments to filter into his mind, his brow creasing in confusion as his brain stutters, unable to comprehend what’s going on. He swears he just heard you talk, but that’s impossible. You kissed him. He’s a reaper, his kiss kills. You’re dead.

Jerking back, he looks down with wide eyes and his heart stops as he looks into your eyes. Your very much alive eyes, that look back at him with puzzlement and a slight amount of bemusement. His hand moves on its own, cupping your cheek and the sheer warmth and life in it causes Hoseok to burst into tears once more.

A strange crying wail leaves his mouth and he doesn’t see the fright in your face as he pulls you closer, hugging you so tightly to his body that he’s probably suffocating you but he can’t care. He doesn’t care. Because you’re not dead.

You’re alive.

He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t even care. Because you are alive. You are breathing and warm and full of emotion and life and he can’t thank the fates enough.

“I th..thought...I...k-k-killed you.” Hoseok manages to get out between broken sobs, pulling back to cup your face while he bends down to look deep into your eyes, making sure once more that you are in fact alive and that he’s not imagining it. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d become delusional and was seeing hallucinations right now, his grief had been that intense.

But your own eyes widen as you realise what you’d done, how his fear of kissing had slipped your mind once more in your innocent effort to show him affection. He knew that you often forgot and had almost kissed him many times; he had forgiven you many times as well. It was an easy thing to forget, that a mere brush of his lips was death.

“Oh my...Hoseok...oh Hoseok, I am so sorry. I forgot, I just...I did not think. I mean...I am so sorry!” You blurt out, words falling over themselves as thick, salty tears continue to fall from his red, swollen eyes and your own fill in response to his heartbreak. “Hoseok, sweetheart, my love, I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you, oh I am so stupid.” 

Immediately he’s shaking his head, wiping away his tears as quickly as he can and sniffling, uncaring how pathetic he sounds. Because he had just walked through a valley of pain and come out the other side to find happiness once more. 

“I thought you d-d-dead,” He moans, voice cracking as yet more tears fall and he’s partially surprised to realise that even his nose is running in his extreme emotions. You wipe away his tears desperately, sniffing and crying quietly yourself as you try to comfort him as best you can. His head falls into your shoulder as you both fall to your knees on the ground, arms constricting each other as he cries brokenly. “I thought you were dead. I thought I k-k-killed you.”

“Shhh, shhh Hoseok. I’m sorry, it is okay, it’s okay. I’m here, I am alive. I am not hurt, you didn’t hurt me.” You run your fingers through his hair repeatedly, the long strands of black hair soft and smelling strongly of Hoseok as you press gentle kisses to his hair and forehead in your attempts to comfort him.

And then your fingers pause in their movements, so warm and alive against his skin that he wants to weep even more at the very knowledge that you are in fact alive. He’s so deep in his emotions, a garbled mix of relief, fear, panic and love, that he doesn’t notice the way your body freezes up.

In fact, he's forced to acknowledge you when your hands gently push at his shoulders, moving him back until you can lift up his face to your own. For a second, you pause in shock at the sight of his face and he wonders if his eyes are as swollen as they feel. Crying was something he hadn’t known he could do either, and he’d discovered he didn’t particularly like it.

“Hoseok...your...your eyes,” There’s confusion, fear and awe in your voice and he stiffens as he catches sight of the glowing reflection in your own. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes have fallen into their reaper state, an eternal blackness with his icy blue irises shining a frightening blue. It’s terrifying to the living, an unnatural sight and he doesn’t want to scare you. “They’re...beautiful. I mean...unnerving but...beautiful.”

Hoseok frowns slightly, looking down at his hands which grip at your dress desperately. No one had ever called him beautiful in his reaper state and he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to you, surely you had to be lying?

The suddenness of your compliment cuts through his whirling mind quite well and he allows himself the time to try and calm himself, breathing slowly and steadily until his tears are quiet once more. You probably hadn’t intended for that to be a potential side effect, but he appreciates it either way. He didn’t like how...out of control he’d felt with his emotions everywhere.

A soft gasp from you causes him to look up with wide eyes, concern and fear that perhaps you were just having a delayed reaction or something. But instead, he’s met with a brilliant smile and pure excitement etched into every line of your face. It makes his heart skip slightly and he’s so surprised by your reaction that his tears even stop.

“Hoseok...I’m okay,” You say once more and he sniffs hard, reaching up to wipe away the wetness at his eyes. He doesn’t understand and he can see the realisation in your own eyes that he doesn’t understand what you’re trying to get out. So instead, you lean closer to him until your noses touch before repeating the words. “I am okay...I kissed you...and I am okay.”

For a few seconds longer, Hoseok simply stares into your eyes with a blank look as he tries to work it all out in his mind. And then suddenly, it all clicks together and he recoils backwards with an astonishingly loud gasp. You had kissed him, a death sentence to anyone. But you were still here. Perfectly fine and alive.

Without even meaning to, his eyes fall down to your lips before he’s looking back into your happy eyes once more. The grin you wear is amused and you visibly vibrate with feeling as you see him work it all out internally.

“You are okay...you are not hurt...oh.” He’s not sure what to do, his hands hovering almost comically as his head tilts to the side. Your smile turns softer, more heartfelt and he almost purrs with soft delight and happiness as you cup his face in your hands, thumbs wiping away the trails of his tears.

“You didn’t hurt me Hoseok. I am here, I am alive,” With that, you lean forward slowly. Hoseok has plenty of time to move away if he wanted, but the deep and pure need that clenches his gut to finally kiss you causes him to stay put. “I love you.”

There’s no chance for him to comprehend what you mutter to him as your lips are soft butterfly wings against his own before you press them to his firmly. This time, he doesn’t panic and freeze time. He’s not even sure he has the capability of that right now, but he pushes any of those thoughts away and simply enjoys it this time. 

Your lips are warm and soft against his own, as gentle as the petals of the flowers you tend to in your garden every morning. The pressure is light, letting him get used to the sensation and he’s overwhelmed by you, every sense fizzing out as his entire body and mind focuses on where you meet.

Humans made kissing look so effortless and natural, as if it was nothing to be bothered about. A quick kiss here and there; shy kisses, sly kisses, wonton kisses, moving kisses, grieving kisses. To someone who’s kiss has only ever meant the destruction of life, the very idea of kissing anyone for pleasure had simply not existed in his mind until you had come into his life.

But he understood now. Just as he understood many of the things that human’s enjoyed and loved. All because of you.

You pull away from him slowly, just far enough that he can feel your warm breath against him and he chases after you without a thought, face creasing in consternation as he seeks out that blessed happiness he’d found in the form of your lips upon his. He never wanted to stop kissing you, ever. 

But you laugh quietly, a hand to his chest causing him to stay in place and he opens his eyes, a pout forming on his lips already. Yet he stills when he takes in the sight of you, practically glowing with pleasure, eyes dancing with a mischievous light while a bright smile paints itself on your face, causing his stomach to flip.

He knows what these feelings are now, the feelings that he’d been so confused over for the last few months. The feelings he hadn’t understood; that had felt so foreign to him and caused him unease with how out of control he felt whenever he looked at you. How butterflies had taken flight in his stomach at your smile, his heart had soared when you laughed, his nerves had tingled at your touch.

It was love. Hoseok didn’t have any experience in it, and perhaps it was a fumbling, almost childish version of love as a result. But it was pure, and honest. 

Born from a place of deep admiration and respect for your courage and perseverance, your kindness and caring nature, your love for a simple life and acceptance of him as a person and not a monster of death. His throat tightens as all of these thoughts rush through his mind, his hands reaching out and cupping your face ever so gently as his eyes dart all over, taking in the sight that has taken his breath away for months now.

No one had ever treated him as something to be befriended, to be talked to, to be pleasured and so much more. With you, he finally felt like he was alive after centuries of merely existing. With you, he felt like he finally had a purpose to be in the real world that extended beyond the job he was created to do.

Hoseok loved you, and he wanted to continue loving you for as long as you would allow him. Wake up next to you in bed, warm and cozy with his arms wrapped around you tightly, cuddling your body to his as you both slowly woke up. Feed the animals in your small enclosure, garden with you and live a simple life when he was not called to his duty.

He wanted to live his life with you.

His eyes watered as he focused back on your own, the gentle crease in your brow showing your confusion at his strange antics and he gives a smile that wobbles ever so slightly.

“I love you.” 

There’s the tiniest pause of hesitation before your eyes widening, smile fighting with the shock as your jaw drops open. A tiny part of him worries suddenly that you’ll reject him, that you only wanted him for his company, both in your bed and in your small cabin.

But then your smile grows even bigger, wider and your arms wrap around his neck tightly, pulling closer before you press your nose to his lightly.

“Really? You love me?”

“Yes, I do. I...I think I have for a while now but I just...did not understand. It takes me a while-”

“To understand what you are feeling. I know, I have learnt that over the last few months. It has been kind of sweet to go through it all with you, being there to witness you understanding yourself. I consider it an honour.” You interrupt and his cheeks flush dark, knowing that you have been there for most of the big realisations of his feelings over the last few months.

And then you gently brush your nose against his, the sensation featherlight and he can’t help but let out a small giggle, surprised at the noise yet unwilling to say anything about it. Not when you’re this close, and he can see every strand of colour that makes up your beautiful eyes.

“Would you like to know a secret Hoseok?” He nods without even realising, the sound of his name falling from your lips like music to ears. Perhaps he’s being stupid for being this happy with you, maybe it will all fall apart. Maybe reapers aren’t meant to love like this, but he doesn’t care right now. Because he has you.

After thinking he’d lost you forever from his life, he has you.

“I love you too.” And with that, you press your lips to his again in a sweet kiss that has his blood singing. It’s quick and fast again, but he doesn’t care this time. Not when he smiles so big after and begins pressing as many kisses to your face as he can as he learns what you feel like beneath his lips, not when he takes your hands and kisses each fingertip in turn, not even when he has you beneath him later in the cabin, exploring the slopes and curves of your body with inquisitive and gentle kisses.

Yes, he thinks to himself that night as he sleeps in your bed with you for the first time, your body tightly wrapped around his as he kisses your hair like he’s always wanted to, no matter what happens...he has you and you have him.

[darealbellabelleoftheball]

A Child for Christmas

This is my Contest submission for @notaghost3 ‘s 5th annual POTO Holiday One shot challenge.

It was inspired by @hop3isaprison ‘s art. And was edited by the lovely @obesessedwbeautiesandbeasts . Thank you both and I hope you all enjoy.

                                                        ~~~

Her white heels clacked a sharp staccato beat against the pavement. Her breaths coming in little shivering gasps. Though she knew he had been told not to follow her, she worried he might go against what his parents said.

Her hands held her skirts while she ran. She didn’t know where she was running to at first.

It was not like she could go back to the opera. That’s the first place he would check.

But she had not been in Paris long enough to know where to go. She needed someone to talk to...

She stopped suddenly. 

A dangerous plan had formed.

She resumed her pace, steps more sure, as the snow gently fell around her. She shivered wishing she had thought to grab a wrap before leaving the church. 

Her bare arms were freezing. If only she had thought to buy a long sleeved wedding dress!

Then again, she didn't think she’d be running from her groom when she woke up this morning.

Hell, she thought the nausea was just pre-wedding jitters. Until about two hours before the ceremony, when she lost her breakfast.

                                                      ~~~

“Christine? Are you alright?” Meg’s timid voice reached where Christine sat on the tile floor of the little bathroom.

Christine groaned, “Meg are you alone?”

“Yes.”

There was a sound as the door unlocked.Meg opened the door to a sobbing Christine, in a pool of her own white wedding gown. Christine sniffled forlornly.

“Are you okay? Did you eat something bad?” Meg asked gently.

 “No... Meg I did something bad.”

Meg closed the door and locked it, crouching down to get a better look at her friend.

“What did you do?”

“I.... I did... Erik.”

Meg blanched and slid down the wall to join her friend on the floor.

She was silent for a few moments before exclaiming, “Erik, crazy Erik? Your stalker?”

“He’s not crazy! He was just lonely.” Christine replied defensively. 

Meg nodded, slowly. 

“So you... slept with Erik?”

Christine hugged herself and sniffled loudly.

“You slept with Erik...and now you’re throwing up.Wait! Wasn’t that whole business at the opera about six weeks ago?”

Christine's bright blue eyes were full of tears, “I missed my cycle Meg.”

“You... Shit... Okay. I’ll get mum to stall without going into detail.”

Christine chuckled lightly. “Meg it’s your mother.”

“Right...”

She ripped the sleeve off Christine’s dress.

“Critical dress emergency!” Meg exclaimed before leaning forward, and kissing Christine on the forehead, “Stay here, open the door for no-one and I’ll be back with a test.”

Twenty minutes later as Christine sat in the dark, locked room crying softly. A soft knock made her jump.

“I’m back, let me in.”

Christine opened the door and pulled Meg into a hug. “Oh meg!”

Meg patted her back, and smiled, “You’re going to be fine, this might not even be what you think it is, but if it is, I support you no matter what happens, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Now, do you want me to wait outside or stay in here with you?”

“Stay, please! I need the moral support.”

Twelve minutes later the two women stared at the little device in Christine’s trembling hands.

“Dear lord.” Christine groaned, her face pale.

 “Congratulations.” Meg smiled lightly.

“Heavens above what am I going to do?!”

“Do you love him Christine?”

“Who? Raoul? Of course I love him. He’s my best friend. I mean, he has been acting off lately, but I bet that will change after we get married.” Christine smiled, but Meg could tell it was fake.

“That’s all well and good, but I was talking about Erik.”

“Erik...” Christine blushed, thinking back to their first kiss. 

“Pity, Love, How can one tell the difference?”

That haunted face flashed back into her mind, the ferocity of that man, the tenderness...

Christine took in a shuddering breath, and placed one hand on her stomach, “It’s different with him than with Raoul.”

Meg nodded in understanding.

“Raoul is safer.”

“Exactly. Less... volatile.”

It was certainly the truth. After the incident at the Opera, Raoul had withdrawn himself. There was now hardly a spark left between them. Merely a sense of duty. As Raoul had given her his word.

His parents were none too happy about that. 

“Well, I think you should tell him.” Meg spoke softly, bringing Christine out of her thoughts.

Christine nodded, “Yes. I suppose that would be the right thing to do. We’ll have to postpone the wedding.”

“If he even still wants to marry you.”

Christine blinked in shock.

Meg sucked some air in through her teeth. “Sorry that wasn’t helpful.”

                                                    ~~~

Christine shivered as she came nearer to the little brownstone townhouse.

And as she reached the familiar door, she rose to knock on it, but hesitated. 

Could she handle being twice rejected in one day?

Gathering her courage she knocked.

“One minute!” A familiar voice called.

“Yes how may I hel-” The Daroga blinked at her. “Christine?!”

“Hello Daroga.”

“You should not be here... especially not today... Not on the day of your wedding...” 

It was then that he seemed to put the pieces together. Glancing at the streaks of mascara-tears that fell down her face. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, almost afraid that his voice would carry up the stairs to the man who had locked himself in his room. 

“I- I’m pregnant,” Christine found she could not meet the man’s warm green eyes.

“Then you really should not be here...” The Daroga looked over his shoulder and up the stairs.

Christine let out a disgruntled sigh, “The child is not Raoul's.”

Nadir frowned, 

“Then who...” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Oh I see! Come in. I’ll fetch him for you. ERIK!”

Christine Jumped.

“What do you want you great booby?!”

Nadir smiled through grit teeth, “One moment please mademoiselle.” 

He scampered up the stairs as Christine awkwardly shut the door behind her.

The warmth of the house met her chilled skin and she shivered again, not of cold. But of fright.

 If Erik reacted like Raoul...

                                                    ~~~

“Christine! I’m not supposed to see you before the wedding. It’s bad luck.” Raoul smiled tightly.

Christine took in a shuddering breath, “I’m afraid my dear that it’s too late to change our luck...”

“Is something wrong?” He frowned.

She nodded, and did not meet his eyes when she announced, “I’m pregnant.”

Raoul frowned, 

“But... We haven't...” 

He blushed,. “How... how far along are you?”

“It’s Erik’s...” She answered the question he dare not ask.

Raoul’s stance changed. He paced the room like a caged tiger. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! How many people do you think I’ve slept with!?” She hissed.

“Well, I certainly don’t know now do I?!” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down on a couch. 

“I’ll marry you. We can pretend the child is ours. I won’t let you go through this alone. Or... Well, there is another option.”

“What?” She frowned, something in her gut telling her this would not be a pleasing answer.

“Abortion.”

“I’m not getting rid of my baby!” Christine gasped.

“You’re forgetting that it’s that monster’s baby too!” Raoul snapped. “Besides, don't look at it that way. This is our chance, to wipe the slate clean.”

“Monster?”

Raoul merely glared.

“If the child is a monster what does that make me?”

“You went to him, willingly?”

Indignation caused a flush across her skin.

“And what if I did?”

He looked her up and down in disgust.

“Alright, if that’s how you really feel, then I won’t force you to marry me.”

“Christine...”

“No, Consider me no longer your problem.” 

“I can’t do that, ” he replied, grabbing her arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Enough, you can’t always be my white knight Raoul. Let me go! ”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going home.” Christine sniffled

.

“No. You are already a part of this family. You cannot leave with all the reporters here... just stay here I need to talk to Philippe. Perhaps you will see reason when I return.” He growled, storming past her.

“Raoul!” Christine shouted. 

But the door closed between them and Raoul locked her in.

“No... No. No!!!” Christine exclaimed. 

“Let me out Raoul! This isn’t funny! RAOUL!!!”

 She slapped the door with her hands and tried to knock it down with her shoulder, but only succeeded in giving herself a bruise.

Finally as her panic grew, she spotted the window. 

She threw up the sash and let the cool winter air caress her skin. As her panic died down she noticed the tree.

“No way in hell I’m sticking around here.” 

She placed a hand on her stomach, “We’re not staying where both of us aren’t wanted.”

And with that, Christine climbed down the tree and began to run.

                                                      ~~~

Erik’s eerie yellow eyes glared at the Daroga from the darkness of his room.

“What the Devil do you want Nadir?” he hissed.

“There’s a young lady here to see you.”

“What???” Erik exclaimed.

 Christine froze in terror as she heard her angel’s voice.

There was a sound of a scuffle and soon a very ragged looking Erik arrived at the top of the steps. 

“Christine?” he breathed, every inch as starstruck as when he had first met her.

“Hey Erik, ” she whispered.

Her blonde hair hung in ringlets, framing her angelic face. The white gown only made her glow further.

He was down the stairs in an instant, but caught himself from touching her.

“Is this real?”

“Yes.”

She took him in, he had barely changed, besides the fact that he was not wearing a suit. Instead he wore just a simple white dress shirt, though for some strange reason he still wore his cloak. His mask showed his thin macabre lips, and Christine blushed as a fire stirred in her stomach. 

He took in a deep breath and pulled himself up to his full height. Like a wounded animal trying to appear threatening.

He cleared his throat, eyes like storm clouds. 

“Why have you come here?” his voice thundered. 

“I’m pregnant,” she replied, in a tone more confident than she felt.

“Congratulations... So you’re here to torture me further?” he snapped. 

“I beg your pardon?” she gasped.

“Your little man must be very happy. So why are you here with me and not him, eh?” he fairly snarled.

“You know for a genius you really are intolerably stupid!” Christine replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

He growled in response.

“Erik the baby is not Raoul's.”

“What?” Erik frowned, deflating a bit.

“It’s our baby.”

Erik froze. Statuesque. 

“How.... is this possible?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you were there Erik...” Christine sassed. 

“I’m gunna go make that tea...” Nadir muttered leaving them in the parlor.

“Should we have a seat Erik?”

He nodded mutely as Christine led him to a love seat in the parlor. 

“I just found out today.” She admitted.

 Erik slowly seemed to be coming to his senses. “Are you sure, it’s not his?”

“It’s not his, you were the only one... I... Well, you know.”

“Oh...” He crossed a leg over his knee, and puffed up like a bird displaying plumage. 

“I just found out this morning, I was pretty shocked myself.”

Erik nodded again. 

Ayesha walked into the room and hissed at Christine.

 Erik shushed her, and the cat climbed up possessively onto his lap.

“Your wedding was this morning,” Erik remarked, absently stroking the cat.

“Yes, I just came from the church.”

“Well that explains the dress.” he replied.

“Raoul knows.”

That caught his attention.

“Oh? And how did that go?” he leaned closer to Christine and the air was electric around them.

“He got angry...”

A smile crept up Erik’s face.

 “He locked me in the room and went to get his brother. I climbed down a tree, and... well here I am.” 

Erik’s face fell and his hands clenched into fists.

“Bastard,” he muttered.

 “Erik...” Christine whispered.

He looked back up to her with a bright smile, “Yes?”

“I want to let you know I don't expect anything, but I’ve decided to keep the baby. I just thought you had the right to know. I’m sorry I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You’re always welcome here my dear. I... uh, this is a lot to process.” Erik shook his head. 

“Of course we’re keeping the baby... why wouldn't we?”

Christine burst into tears again. Erik gathered her into his arms as she cried. Nadir walked into the room. He set his tea tray down on the coffee table.

“The de Cagney's probably don't want a scandal, did they say something to you Christine?” Nadir asked gently. 

She nodded into Erik’s chest.

 “Raoul suggested... abortion.”

“I’ll kill him.” Erik announced.

“Erik, no!” Nadir and Christine chorused. 

“I just need... Some support. I understand this is a lot, but they’re probably out searching for me now, and Meg was supposed to meet up with me...” Christine took a shaky breath. 

“If it’s support you want, you got it,” Erik nodded firmly.

“Yes, we’re here for you Christine,” Nadir acquiesced. 

Christine and Erik suddenly jolted apart as Christine’s mobile went off.

Ayesha bolted from the room.

*~Nina pretty ballerina who could ever think she could be this way?~*

“Meg?”

“I’m so glad you have your cell on you. The whole church is topsy-turvy looking for you right now. Care to fill me in?”

“I’m at Nadir’s place.”

“Oh. Oh, is Erik there?” 

“Yes. I’ll text you the address.” 

“Oh crap! Tine I have to go. I’ll be right there. I have your location.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m being followed.”

“Damn!”

“Hide!”

*~Beep~*

“What’s wrong?”

“Meg is on her way, but I think the de Chagney’s are not far behind.”

“I know what to do,” Erik announced.

                                                    ~~~

Christine, Erik, and the Daroga stared into the closet.

“Erik,” the Daroga remarked, “Is there any particular reason you have a false back to your wardrobe?”

“Now’s not the time Nadir,” Erik reprimanded.

Nadir sighed and turned to Christine, “We’ll be right back. Just sit tight.”

Erik extended his hand to help Christine into the dark wardrobe.

There was the familiar jolt of electricity between them just as Erik went to shut her in. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

Nadir blushed as Christine made Erik swear on his music that he would not harm Raoul.

“Yes, I promise Mon Ange.” Erik blushed.

                                                     ~~~

Meanwhile, Meg pulled up to the house in her sporty white convertible. The Sleek black car pulling up behind her. 

Meg hopped out of the car and with the grace and speed granted to her by her art, was able to evade the people who followed behind her. 

She raised her hand, but before she could knock on the door was pulled inside by Nadir, quickly shutting the door behind him.

“Mademoiselle Giry,” he purred.

Meg blushed, “Monsieur Khan.”

He smiled slightly at the petite blonde, “I see you brought company.”

“Yup nothing like the de Chagney's to liven up a party.”

A predatory growl issued from the stairs, where Erik blocked the way.

“Hello Erik.” Meg squeaked.

He nodded coolly.

 Meg jumped again, still in Nadir’s arms as a pounding sounded on the door.

“Let me in! I demand to see my bride!” Raoul exclaimed.

 “You’re not in a position to demand anything right now!” Erik shouted back. 

“Erik,” said the Daroga, a man who had dealt with such things far too often for his liking.  “Go to the living room and sit the hell down.”

Nadir gestured to the living room with a meaningful glance at Meg.

Erik huffed in annoyance, knuckles clenched and white as he led Meg to the parlor.

A fake Christmas tree sat unassembled on the floor. 

“So. you and Christine, huh?” Meg asked awkwardly, sitting down in a chair near the fire. 

Erik’s ears turned red.

                                                         ~~~

Meanwhile at the door.

“Let me in!” Raoul hissed.

“Raoul, you know you can’t be here right now.”

“I know she’s here!”

“Who?” Nadir asked.

Raoul beat his fist on the door and shouted through it, “You know damn well who!”

The Daroga opened the first door leaving the screen door shut.

“Miss Daae?” he asked boredly.

“Yes!” Raoul puffed like a walrus. His mustache moving with the air expelled from his nose. “Don’t play coy. I know she’s here, why else would Meg Giry come here?”

There was a pause.

.

Nadir arched a brow at Raoul, “Mademoiselle Giry is here to see me monsieur, not that it’s any of your business.”

Meg’s pretty brown skin flushed, and despite the situation Erik had to bite back a chuckle.

“Here to see you?” Raoul frowned. 

“Well don’t look so shocked!” Nadir sounded genuinely upset.

Erik raised up a hand to cover his masked mouth. 

“What? You think that just because I’m older than you, women don’t find me attractive?!”

“That’s not what I-”

“Oh I SEE! So it’s because of my race?! You have a problem with mixed race couples? This isn’t the 1800s anymore, MONSIEUR!”

“I beg your pardon!” the Viscount exclaimed. 

Erik was doubled over in his chair now.

“But if you really need to see proof sir... Meg, darling?” Nadir called into the living-room.

“Yes!” Meg exclaimed, pulling herself together enough to play her part. 

“Come here please.”

“What is it, love?” Meg asked, walking into the parlor. 

“Meg, are you really with Nadir?”

She linked her arm with Nadir’s and frowned disapprovingly at Raoul.

“That’s certainly none of your business.“

“Well, then have you seen Christine?” Raoul asked.

“No, I haven't seen her, In fact, I came over here to talk to Nadir about it... I just...” 

At that moment the sound of a woman crying reached Erik’s ears.

“Meg are you okay?” Raoul asked.

 “Where could she be? I checked the Opera house, I checked nearly everywhere at the venue. The only place I could think of her going would be her father’s grave. Or maybe she left the country, but I don’t understand, why would she leave you at the altar?!”

At this moment Erik could bear it no longer, he had to see Raoul’s face.

 He got up and strolled to the foyer, fixing his hair and straightening his suit on the way. 

“And just what is all this fuss about?”

The fire in Raoul’s eyes nearly made him break into a smile.

“Erik,” the Viscount growled.

“Bonsoir, monsieur. How may I help you?~” Erik smirked.

“You crazy son of a-”

“Hey now!” Nadir exclaimed.

Meg scurried back into the living room as The Daroga held Raoul back. 

“Should you not be with your wife right now?” Erik growled, with a venom that shocked Raoul.

“Perhaps,” the Viscount thought, “She really wasn’t here.”

“Yes, I should. Bon Nuit,” With a cold nod, he spun on his heel and left.

Meg, Nadir and Erik, Crowded around the window as they watched the de Chagney clan drive off in defeat.

“Where is she?” Meg demanded.

                                                          ~~~

Christine was shaking when they opened the false back to let her out. 

Tears streamed down her face.

“Meg!”

“Tine!” 

The two women embraced as the Daroga morphed into mum mode.

“When is the last time any of you have eaten?”

“This morning,” the girls chorused.

Erik grunted noncommittally. 

“Alright I’ll order pizza.” Nadir replied.

The group trouped down the stairs, and as Nadir went to order, the others went into the parlor. 

Erik drew the curtains closed as the light from the sun had already faded anyways, and flicked on a light switch as the girls sat down on the couch.

Erik frowned at the tree and started to swiftly assemble it.

The girls spoke to each other softly. 

“So were you ever planning on telling me?” Meg asked, as they watched Erik’s confident movements.

 “What?” Christine asked.

“Were you planning on telling me that you and Erik got together?” Meg asked, 

Christine could tell she was a bit hurt.

“I’m sorry, Meg. Not really, I just... I was confused. I didn't know what to do. And after Raoul and I started courting, well, it didn't take long for me to find out that he was no longer the boy I fell in love with. He started being belligerent. Seeing other women. Drinking,” Christine sighed.

“Of course I’m not saying I’m faultless. But... I’ve always known what I was, and where I stood with Erik.” 

The girls  both glanced at Erik, who had wound the Christmas lights into a noose, quite subconsciously. 

“That’s one of the things I love most about you, Erik,” Christine remarked. 

His head turned, and his golden eyes snapped to hers.

“No games,” she clarified.

He nodded, “No more games.” 

He set the festive noose down on the ground and rushed out of the room and up the stairs. Taking them two at a time.

Meg frowned in confusion at Christine. Christine shrugged with a little giggle.

“He’s an odd duck...Though his friend is quite handsome...”

Christine gasped as she looked towards the kitchen where Nadir could be heard talking on the Phone. 

“Megan!” she exclaimed with a playful swat at the ballerina’s arm.

“What?!” Meg replied.

There was a rhythmic thudding, much like the sound of a heartbeat, as Erik moved down the stairs.

The girls looked up at Erik in shock, but before they could ask what he was doing, he had already knelt in front of Christine. 

“I want to do right by you and our child. I swear that I’ll never leave you. You are my home, Mon Ange . My offer from all those weeks ago still stands.” With that he pulled the ring box out of his pocket. 

“Will you consent to being my living bride?”

Christine gasped as he continued. 

“I may not be the best father, but I promise that I will strive towards that goal. I’ll never stop learning what I can to help you raise this child, and I have no doubt that with you as it’s mother, and the help of our friends this child will be fine.”

Erik opened his mouth to say more, but Christine smiled and took his trembling hands in hers 

She blinked back tears.

“Yes. I’ll marry you.”

Such joy Erik had never felt before. His heart nearly burst.

 Meg and Nadir clapped, as Erik slid the ring on her finger and she pulled him towards her, taking off his mask, turning him away and pulling him into a long kiss. 

The happy group finished decorating the tree, and many celebrations were had.

Christine with the help of the Daroga, got a restraining order against Raoul, who ended up being convinced by his family to give up on Christine, and married a countess to extend their fortunes. 

But what seemed like only a few short months later, a child was born. He was named Gustave, after Christine’s deceased father. As he grew so did his musical genius, much to the great joy and contentment of his father.

Erik soon took to not wearing his mask around the house. Nadir and Meg, and their children really didn’t mind. Christine and Gustave certainly didn’t.

So you see they all lived quite happily. Except of course for Raoul, Whom, Erik was very confident, got his just desserts. 

                                                     The End.

Thank you all for your time!

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (13/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Meh.

She goes to the bathroom where she had changed originally. 

By some mercy all of her things are still there. She does not know why she thought they might not be, but this day is quickly showing her just how unexpected things can be. Her mouth still tingles from the pressure of his and if she is honest she cannot say it was entirely unwanted. 

Still: this precedent cannot stand. If this event is to go forward she absolutely cannot abide this kind of behavior.

It is distracting. It is unprofessional. More than that it hints at the one thing she has not allowed herself to consider for over two years: a future. 

Hans Westergaard may not want anything from her more than a fling, but she cannot know that for sure. She cannot entertain anything that may have staying power and if his reaction to her is even a fraction of what she has felt when he touches her then they are in trouble.

The first thing she does is breaths. She knows she tends to not do that and that is no good. She must breathe. Breath is crucial to brain function and clearly she needs as much of that as she can get. 

She needs to breathe.

She needs to think.

She needs to move forward.

Her first step of moving forwards is to go to the miniature version of her traveling drugstore in the corner of the gold and marble bathroom, and she immediately starts setting herself right. She cannot get out of her wrap and suit fast enough. Even with the rinse down below she still feels sticky. She pulls out her face and body wipes and gets to work, then the lotion. It is not the type that drenched her skin with cloying scent, but instead offered a delicate perfume that she hopes will remove all traces of the reef and everything after. As she works the cream into her skin she feels her body relax. The familiarity, the sense of routine, slows the spinning world enough that she finally feels like she stands on solid ground.

Her body is hers. Her mind is hers. Her spirit is hers. She focuses on that.

She tells herself this routine has nothing to do with erasing his touch, covering it with additional sensation so she can forget the heat he poured into every inch of her. She tells herself that caressing her body with her own hands has nothing to do with forgetting the imprints he left on her. She reasons that gargling sharp minty mouthwash is to take the tang of ocean salt from her tongue and not the memory of his own intimate flavor. She tells herself that she hadn’t kissed him back.

She wishes she believed herself, but the last point is a lie and she knows it.

Still she comforts herself knowing that if nothing else it reminds her that there is life off of this boat, outside of his initiative. These steps, routines, exist outside of him. The vast majority of her world exists outside of him and would continue to be so for as long as she is alive. It is a victory, she tells herself, to not need him. 

All she wants is to plan a great event. All she wants is to elevate her company to the next level so when she leaves she will know they are set. All she wants is to make peace with her fate and leave her family with the resources they need for success. 

She dresses, glad for the shapeless way her shift floats around her body revealing nothing. She untangles the mess of her hair and combs her fingers through the white blonde mass. The salt from the ocean brings out its fullness and body. Without a blowdryer and a round brush there was no hope of taming it to lay around her shoulders and down her back without it exploding into a frizzy mess. Her fingers deftly create a braid that she curls and pins at the nape of her neck, hiding her scar.

Finally she finds her silver locket and clasps it behind her neck. 

She may have been tempting fate wearing this specific piece of jewelry. Hans Westergaard had taken a special interest in it at the wedding after all, but she knows she cannot simply stop wearing it. It is her most precious belonging and she is not about to allow one over-inflated playboy keep her from exercising what little control she has over her life. 

She straightens her shoulder and swipes on just enough makeup to make her feel like she isn’t a ghost: a bit of mascara, concealer, brow fill, blush, and a swipe of nude lipstick. She has never been a gloss girl. Her fair complexion already makes her look younger than she is. She does not need help in that department, especially since she will never grow old.

The thought slips in before she can stop it but it still catches her breath. It has been easy to ignore for the last two years, but she knows she is chasing the end. Time and fate do not just stop because you turn your eye. She feels them both biting her heels. 

In an act she hopes is fortifying she looks herself in the eye in the mirror. 

She says what she has said for many other days to remind herself of her position, her focus, whenever she felt lost:

“The end is coming.” 

The words bend in a strange way in this space. She has grown used to how they unfurled in the small bath off of her studio apartment where she has often found macabre comfort in her single affirmation. What use has she for self-help mantras and manifestation when science has told her the truth? 

The end is coming, and it is coming soon. She has felt it. It is not constant, but just enough that she recognizes its impending presence. This is when she must bow out and relinquish herself to fate - no matter how cruel. She did not choose this, but it seems the universe did. Who is she to argue with the universe?

Her shoulder rolls back, eyes catching in the mirror, and she cannot delay further. If she does it will result in her heaving herself off the deck into the depths of the ocean and not coming back up and that is not becoming for PR regarding an up-and-coming event planning business.

She must face this.

She considers what she has faced to this point and in many ways is able to convince herself that anything she has encountered between herself and Mister Westergaard is quite small. Perhaps, in many ways, it is. Perhaps this ephemeral chemistry has left them grasping at things that do not exist. 

There is no future and she is fine with that. Yes she may have reacted and even enjoyed the attention of his kisses but that does not mean she must succumb to the succulent pleasure he offers. After all he does not know what he is asking.

She does not have a future. 

She does not know how to tell him that.

So she looks at herself in the mirror and decides that after this event she is done. Of course she will do her best at finishing out what she needs to contractually, but she will not accept any more events. From here on in her purpose will be to transfer whatever authority she has to a new trainee. It is the most she can hope to do for a company that was founded on the fact that she is dying.

Her head shakes, hand gripping pure stone counters veined with what she can only assume is actual gold, and this is her purpose. This is why she is here. If she can keep this event under the guise of E&A Events without ever giving away her position as she has done with everything they have done. Then their business will catapult to the stratosphere of society.

They are ready. She knows they are. They all have the skill and capability to reach the heights she never will, but she hesitates. Hiring. The one thing they have never really done. Kristoff was acquired through dating Anna. Rapunzel and Eugene were acquired through Kristoff and Anna drinking at a bar and forcing Elsa to realize they were the perfect fit for their expanding needs. The intern Sven, Kristoff’s friend, fit in well enough to warrant a staff position if available, but he definitely could not fill her shoes. 

They needed someone who was focused on delivering perfection, someone who would balance out her obsession with black and white solutions, someone who could move them forward when her own desire for being more kept them from actually accomplishing anything.

Someone like Hans. Her own mind betrays her and she takes a breath.

She had not lingered in this bathroom to have her own motivational mirror time accost her so she knows it is time to go. Turning towards the door she sucks a serrated breath and reminds herself of the truth.

All that matters is the deal, the zeros on the bottom line, the chance to upscale the business. 

At least that is what she tells herself as she tries to settle an errant, romantic heart.

Romance. The very word simultaneously makes her laugh and cringe. Of course she had wanted someone to share her life with, someone who didn’t judge or query or laugh. Someone sober-minded, driven, responsible, kind… but she shoves aside that narrative. 

Even at Camp for Those Who Probably Weren’t Going to Make It (not the official name but the name given by her and her best camp friend in the summers spent there) she knows how unrealistic this is.

Love can heal, it does heal, but not when it comes to cases like her.

This is no simple saga of a single broken heart that could be bandaged if the right pair of hands came along. This is her own body declaring war on itself while requiring her to be inside of it but also sit back and watch. The cruelty is not lost on her, but she is prepared. This has been her end for a long time. 

She will watch until the bitter end.

So she looks in the mirror. She squares her shoulders. She tightens the muscles in her back. Though not the tallest woman in the room she is above average and feels that is very much to her advantage. She will take every advantage she can during this negotiation for more than one reason.

After all: what is negotiation other than having the best side of a deal? 

Little does she know that she is about to find out.

….

The rest of the party is back and dressed in their original clothes when she emerges onto the deck where they had first started. She takes stock and if she was not wound as tightly as a child’s music box she may have found the mix of mussed and professional endearing. 

Well, at least where her team was concerned. 

Her sister especially struck a chord in her disheveled pigtail braids, freckles shining on her cheeks and nose from their time in the sun, and her negligence to reapply any kind of makeup. Even in her casual professional outfit Elsa could not help but see her sister as they had been as children. As they had been before - 

That thought is dangerous territory in current company and she reigns it hoping no one noticed the flicker of sentiment (and by no one she means Hans Westergaard). The situation has made it clear that she cannot afford any emotional weakness, no chinks in the armor, and she whips and beats her consciousness to submit to meet what she is so sure they need. 

With an effort she is chagrin to admit she meets Mister Westergaard’s eyes to find them carefully resigned, as if he had to muster a similar effort to meet her gaze. Still the moment her eyes meet his she is struck with a heat she cannot explain - especially considering the distance. She swallows nothing, throat working around the promise of relief that cannot be found in such a simple action. 

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she says around the lump in her throat, gaze scanning everything. 

The elaborate spread of food and drink menus have been removed and she feels a pang of hunger that makes this discovery a regrettable one. Simultaneously she is surprised she is even interested in food at this moment. Not just because of her racing heart but she hasn’t been hungry in weeks, not genuinely anyway. She knows what that signals, but has been ignoring it. 

Perhaps this is a good sign?

She tightens her core against the burgeoning hope. She is beyond trusting herself. If her condition has gone far enough she really cannot trust her own mind. The idea sends a spiteful fever through her gut, coiling and venomous. Who was she if she could not trust herself, her judgement? 

She pushes at the hunger and levels her gaze somewhere in the middle of the group: “What did I miss?”

Anna smiles in a way that betrays nothing. She is either getting better at masking her feelings or Kristoff really hasn't divulged anything.

“We all just got here,” her sister smiles. “We were waiting for you.”

Elsa does not dare look at Hans for his response to that comment. 

“Well I’m here now,” Elsa squares her shoulders and shifts her attache case in her hands. “Shall we discuss the initiative?” 

The words themselves rest a tang on her tongue, bright as blood, and she is just glad it does not taste like him. 

“Of course,” it is he, his voice smooth and calm as she hoped she had sounded before. “But you all must be hungry. I have taken the liberty to make sure lunch was provided today so we can spend the afternoon discussing details.” 

It is only then that she allows herself to realize that he has lost his sweater from the morning and only wears the crisp white button down that had been hidden beneath. The long white sleeves are rolled to the elbows. His forearms are lean, roped with purposeful strength, and sprinkled with both freckles and thick copper hair. The sight of even part of him reminds her of how much she had seen before and unease descends upon her like a guillotine.

“Certainly,” Elsa nods, aware everyone is watching for her cue. “Thank you for the consideration, but we cannot presume to take so much of your time. I am sure after a working lunch my team and I will have enough to get started on your project. After all we want to provide you with the absolute best services and we are best prepared to do that in our offices.”

“Of course,” Hans Westergaard steps nearer and even at the distance of several feet she feels her calf cramp against the impulse to step back in response. “But you see I plan on being involved through this entire process. It is crucial that I work alongside you and make sure you understand everything you need to know so you can deliver exactly what I want.”

She levels her gaze, steadies her breath, and sees exactly what he is doing. Just as he clearly saw her own tactic a few moments before and she has never met someone to challenge her like this. 

“That is the beauty of hiring E&A Events,” she smiles instead of screaming. “We can accomplish things for you in less time and with less supervision things that many other event planners cannot. That is why we hope you trust us and our recommendations. Once we outline your expectations we will only have to check in periodically to make sure we are on track.”

A shadow of a smile pulls at his lips as his gaze darkens. “And if I want to have a more hands on approach?”

Her breath catches against her will. Her body heats with each memory of exactly what his hands felt like across her frame and that is not part of the deal. It never will be, but she can feel the tension in the air. She can sense her crew’s suspicion rising at this exchange, inferring indiscretion, and she raises an imperious brow in counterpoint. 

“There are no contracts signed, Mister Westergaard. Let’s sort through the particulars and see if we are a good fit.” 

It is the best she can do to diffuse and redirect a conversation she can only describe as wildly out of hand. Still the look in his eye at her phrasing does nothing to settle the rolling feeling in her stomach. His enigmatic gaze tells her nothing but that she is in trouble.

“Lunch sounds great,” it is Kristoff who breaks in. His voice is just a little too eager.

“Yeah,” Anna chimes in too and Elsa cannot help but wonder just what she has gotten out of Kristoff explicitly and what she has read between the lines. “After all of that swimming I am starved!”

Rapunzel and Eugene seem all too happy to acquiesce and she can see Hans Westergaard slip into his perfect host skin. His smile broadens, his eyes get less focused, and he moves his attention from lasering in on her to directing the party as a whole. At least he can read a room - but maybe that is what makes him so dangerous. 

Hans introduces the impeccable brunette that had directed her to the Sunset Parlor. Janet, her name is Janet. Elsa fixes onto that, on the humanness of this woman and how she could clearly care less about Hans Westergaard and his charm and his influence and whatever else he brings to the table as she offers the most gracious of smiles and gestures to Elsa’s crew to follow her. 

The group all goes ahead of them.

Elsa had thought Hans Westergaard would go first but all he does is rock on his toes like a dare as the rest push into the interior of the boat. Elsa’s mind flashes to creamy yellow leather and lush mahogany wood and how if the lunch options were anything like the brunch options she may actually have to indulge (slightly). If this is the challenge he wants to lay down she will meet it. 

She turns and follows the group. In no less than three steps she stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder turning her to meet his watching eyes. They have not quite left the main deck and she has watched carefully enough to know that the reflective glass is keeping them from further chatter of indiscretion. That does not mean she is thrilled to be stopped before she is coupled with the relative safety of going into lunch with her team. 

Still she turns with razor eyes: “Stop it. This is not the right time.”

“Oh? Why do I feel like it will never be the right time with you?” he pulls the easy smile she knows is not his and her stomach turns.

“Stop,” she steps back and his hand drops. “You really have to stop.”

Her spine tightens as she tries to not lean away even though he has not moved closer. The kisses between them still sing. She may not be the most experienced girl at the bar but she knows a player when she sees one and there is no way she is letting him get closer in any way. 

He cocks his head to the side, “why?”

“I understand you are an influential man,” she stares at the third button down his chest, ignoring that the first two are undone, and trying her best to not remember… “But we are, well I am not in the habit of pawning off favors for the sake of business. If I gave you the wrong impression or insinuated what you might expect…”

Her blush cuts her off and swallows. 

His voice is low and soft, “I don’t expect anything.”

That rips her eyes to his. She does not know him, but she knows enough to never trust that sentiment. 

“Everyone expects something,” she replies before she can catch herself and her mind goes double time to make up for her misstep, for showing her authentic feelings.

Even if it is true - even if he is born to an entire line that expects something - that does not give her permission to spew all over him. Still she is not about to allow her company to become the laughing stock of higher society because this man can adapt to any circumstance. There are no stakes for him here as far as she can see.

So she straightens her shoulders and does not back down. His chin lowers, slow grin melting across his face. All he does is shift his weight and she has to keep herself from jumping. What if Anna - ?

“What is it that you think I expect that has you so on edge?”

His eyes are hooded, lips soft, and the heat of their kiss is so near to her memory it would only take the slightest effort to pull it to the front of her mind and make a terrible decision, but she reins it in.

“Honestly I don’t want to patronize you with what we were both privy to,” they hold each others gaze for an uncomfortable breath then: “Before we move forward I need you to be honest about your potential contracting of E&A Events. It must have no ulterior motive beyond your event creation and completion. Tell me that you are hiring us for our collective merit, the event we could plan for you, and not for any other reason.” 

He tilts his head to the side with a smirk, “What other reason could I have?”

She flushes, but not of embarrassment. This time the flush rises from - she hates to admit - agitation. She had though they had been on the same page, that he was actually listening to her, but that seems to be untrue. 

“Are you asking me to suppose that you kissed me - repeatedly - was simply out of some sort of goodwill?”

His grin blossoms in full at that and it fills the room to where her whole body tense to stop a step back though he does not move. Even with feet separating them she can feel the heat of him against her and it is not fair. He rests so easy across the space from her that she cannot help but cross her arms over her chest in resistance to him.

“No. I am fully supposing you understand I kissed you because I find you wildly attractive,” his smile stretches so wide she wonders if it hurts even as it stops her lungs.

“Then this cannot go on,” it is a hard rush of the only air left in her body. The exhalation of this truth gives her space to suck in new air and continue, “while I am flattered there is no version of this story that ends the way you want unless that story ends with my company planning you an unforgettable event and us not getting involved in any way.”

The moment the words are out of her mouth she second guesses them. Her mind goes wild with everything she said wrong or could have said better but she is glad that the truth is at least out there. When expectations are set, she has learned, most parties end up happy. Still as she watches him she cannot quite be sure that rule applies here. 

His hands tuck into his pocket and he rocks onto his toes. It isn't disappointment, but there are shades of that along with other things beneath the surface that she tries to not dissect too closely. Her mind comforts herself with the black and white of the situation. These kinds of boundaries are good and what they need to be professional. She had felt unsettled before because she had allowed gray to shade them. If he couldn’t accept her terms then -

“Well,” his tongue wets his full bottom lip and she can feel the gray slipping back in. “I told you I would kiss you like I would never get another chance. If that is all we get, I’ll learn to live with it.”

He smiles, not his mega-watt-light-the-night-sky-smile, but something softer and more secret. It sends a thread of anticipation up her spine that she cannot unravel. 

Still she takes his words to heart. 

I’ll learn to live with it.

He would have to.

After all. She had.

[ previous ]

[merakiaes]

To begin with, I'm full of contradictions, utterly boring, very insecure and highly complicated. I would say my strongest personality traits are my kindness, calmness and sympathy. It's almost impossible to scare or upset me, because I always see the good in a person and recognize where anger, frustration and despair come from. There's no cruelty in me at all. I'm open and impartial towards everything and everyone, without any judgment or prejudice. I also have a calming/grounding effect on other people and animals, which is great because I honestly love all sorts of animals (I'm also a vegetarian because I refuse to intentionally hurt any animal). I'm always well-meaning and there to help others. I despise people who enjoy the suffering of others, just because they have the 'power' to. I'm very open-minded and I think that every opinion matters and that whatever someone has to say is important, at least to them and therefore for me. I will never ignore someone's sorrows and suffering and I try my hardest to help and comfort as best I can. But, even though I see the good in everything, I'm very insecure myself and have little love and understanding for myself. I have a very bad self-esteem and not a particularly positive self-perception, which mostly defines my actions. It makes me believe that I'm a burden to others and that I annoy them. I feel like I'm not "worthy" of love/there's nothing lovable about me, that there are too many problems in contrast to the little good things. Nevertheless, I would never change myself for anything or anyone, I am who I am. This is one of many reasons why I try to stay away and distance myself from others. For me, dealing and interacting with people is really difficult, because I'm so clumsy and nervous around them and easily feel like I'm making a fool out of myself. Another reason is that I fear to be rejected and thrown aside when someone sees how boring, problematic and annoying I actually am. It's also hard for me and incredible frustrating that I'm unable to articulate myself the way I want to, so that I mostly stay silent. And, since I'm a very quiet and rather shy person, I prefer people who initiate the contact and talk a lot/like to talk, who do the talking instead of me, but without intending to suppress myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (I'm always wearing only black, have dyed my hair a little and two ear piercings). Because I'm easily sad and not a funny/joking person, I like and enjoy people who are not too serious themselves. And I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. I've always felt alienated from my surroundings, like I don't belong anywhere, like I'm the only cat in a room full of dogs. That's probably why I have a soft spot for the weirdos, outcasts, loners and "crazy" ones. Though, in my opinion, the definition of normal, crazy and real are very subjective. My whole life I've felt kinda judged, misunderstood and unwanted. People often falsely think that my unassuming nature is naivity and take my social-insecurity for aloofness and coldness. I'm also quite opinionated and aware of what I want, how I feel and who I am. I'm often questioning my surroundings, the traditions and rules and if I believe that something is wrong, I have absolutely no problem challenging others, even authority. I'm a perfectionist, which often leads me to overthinking and that can be equally good and bad. I'm absolutely clueless in romance and totally oblivious to flirting because I'm 100% inexperienced in this stuff, but I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic.

I crave physical touch and am literally melting into and bathing in any sort of touch, but I'm way too reluctant to initiate it. I'm rather sentimental with things given to me by people who I deeply care for, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem. Sadly, I'm not good with words to repeat how much someone means to me and I never know how to show/act on it either. I'm lazy, forgetful and sleepy most of the time and too much people, noise and light is exhausting for me. That's why I prefer to cozy up at home, watching a movie or TV show and listen to music. Music is my greatest passion, even if I can't sing or play an instrument. It's the most calming and therapeutic when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. When no one is around, I even sing along really loudly and off-tune. The meaning music has for me is hard to put into words, but it's my sanctuary for when I feel like my thoughts and feelings are suffocating me. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. My taste in movies is more horror, fantasy and drama and in music it's rock, punk and pop, but for both I enjoy when it's themed around mental illness and real-life problems and when it's from the 80s and 90s. I like vintage things and would love to live in the 80's. I love the feeling of freedom and liveliness. My favourite weather is when it's gloomy and more cold, when it's pouring big fat drops and the air smells like rain and my favourite season is autumn because of the weather, colors, temperatures, flavors and overall aesthetic. I'm on the curvy-side and incredible insecure about it, although I really don't want to be. Once I trust you, I would love to talk for hours about music, movies, dreams, fears or anything alike and life in general, no matter how silly it may seems. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things. I also love to take late-night strolls, to gaze at the nightsky and literally feeling the freedom and infinity. My favourite colours are dark green, black, dark purple and gold. I love the scent of peppermint, cinnamon and the forest. I love plants and would love to decorate my home with them, but unfortunately I don't have a green thumb at all. I like ivy, lavender and roses the most. I wish I could live peacefully in a cottage, surrounded by a forest and many animals. I feel little conected to where I lwas born/am living and I'm deeply convinced that my soul belongs in the UK, always has.

+  Could I please request a male matchup for Stranger Things and Peaky Blinders? I'm female, she/her. (I know you said that no amount is too much, but I still hope that I didn't exaggerate here - and I'm sorry for any spelling and grammatical errors, english isn't my first language)

STRANGER THINGS

I ship you with Billy Hargrove!

This is somewhat of a controversial ship that can be both good and bad depending on the circumstances. I’m choosing to look at it from a positive perspective so bear with me.

Kindness, calmness and sympathy are your strongest personality traits and that is just what Billy Hargrove needs to bring him back to reality, because it is my opinion that the Billy we’ve gotten to see is only the version of himself that he has allowed us to see. 

Billy’s automatic response when someone tries to help him by digging into his emotions is to get angry and defensive. Why? Because he’s put so much time and effort into building up walls around himself in order to not have to feel all his pain over and over again, and every time someone comes and pokes holes in those walls, he snaps.

He’s so used to not being loved and being abandoned that he automatically assumes that people who come off as supportive are going to leave eventually, too. So in his mind, he might as well scare people away at once so that he doesn’t get his hopes up and ruins the walls that he’s put so much into. That’s just easier for everyone.

But although he succeeds in pushing people away by getting angry and therefore succeeding in protecting himself from more heartbreak, he still feels a subconscious guilt when seeing how much he scares people, because that’s how scared he is of his dad. He treats people like his dad treats him and it destroys him to live with that, but he just doesn’t know how to do anything else at this point because his only purpose in life now is to uphold those walls, by whatever means necessary, so while I don’t condone his behavior, nor do I support mentally abusive relationships, I do from a psychological standpoint, think that it would help Billy that you don’t get scared easily. 

Seeing people get so scared, even if it’s by his own doing, breaks him down more and more every time, a little at a time, and it would change everything for him to be met by something else than that immediate fear. He would be faced with an outcome he hasn’t experienced before, which is being seen as something more than a monster; or more specifically to him, being seen as something other than a replica of his dad, because I can guarantee you that that’s something that keeps him up at night. 

Anyone can say that they understand, that they know where someone is coming from, that even if they don’t understand, they can see a persons reasons. But a lot of the times, this is just a case of empty words. Billy knows this and that’s another reason that he doesn’t let people in when they try to get closer, and he proves his point by getting angry at them and seeing the way they react. All of them get scared and leave. Rightfully so, but it also does proves the point in his logic. 

You say that you have a calming and grounding effect on people which is something he’d really benefit from, as well. He naturally surrounds himself with people who match his energy; impulsive, wild, preferably illegal, with little to no thought of consequences. That’s his form of self-harm - to constantly surround himself with things and people that are bad for him, who likes his bad boy-image and encourages his bad behavior.

What he needs is something else entirely; and that is to be in a calm environment. He needs silence, peace, and even if just for a while, just anything but excitement. He needs someone who won’t encourage his chaotic and reckless lifestyle like most of the people he hangs out with do, in order to bring himself back down to earth and find himself again. 

Once he actually meets someone genuine and like-minded and realizes that they’re there to stay, he’d most likely accept the help he’s offered. And after that, he would be so loving toward his significant other because he’d never want her to feel like he does. He would want her to be the happiest person on the planet and if there’s something I’ve learned, myself, it’s that the people who love the hardest are usually the ones who have been loved the least. So if you were feeling insecure, he would lift you up and compliment you constantly, always let you know how beautiful and amazing he finds you, and how lucky he is to have you. He’d be so overly loving and appreciative toward you and everything you do that you’d rarely even have the time to get stuck with your self-doubt.

He, too, feels like he’s undeserving of love, because when has he ever been shown differently? So I also think it would give him somewhat of a wake-up call to see someone he cares about, or just such a kind, genuine person in general, feeling like that. At the same time, I also think he’d react strongly to the way you accept yourself and refuse to change for anyone despite all the self-doubt you have, because that requires an insane amount of strength. It would probably inspire him a lot to be better, himself.

Billy would, most definitely, be the one to initiate contact with you just like he does every other female in his presence. Maybe it’s my mind being too mushed together by all the fanfiction I’ve read over the years, but I feel that once he got to know you, he would just fall for you on the spot. Not just “fall”, either. He’d trip on his shoelaces, fall on his face and roll down a flight of stairs once he finally managed to wrap his head around the fact that you understand, that you care and that you’re not going anywhere.

After initiating contact and coming to that realization, he wouldn’t mind just spending time with you in silence. All that talking he does is nothing more than a façade he’s put up to feel less out of place, less pathetic about being so weak around his dad, but it’s not the real him at all. Billy has been cold and guarded for so long that he, just like you, no longer knows how to communicate his feelings through words, either. Instead, he tends to show his emotions through his actions, so I can imagine there being a lot of silence. Mutual silence.

Would he still enjoy having genuine conversations with you? Yes, absolutely. As would he never hesitate to joke around if you felt down and needed to laugh. But he would also feel safe enough with you to be silent and vulnerable, without feeling that pressure to always keep talking and acting like he does when he’s with other people. He pretends to be comfortable, pretends to fit in, but in reality, he feels out of place, too. He’s felt unwanted, judged and misunderstood for most of his life just like you describe yourself to have done.

He has fooled around with a lot of girls but he’s still touch-starved, because no-strings-attached relations doesn’t do anything for him other than provide a temporary distraction. It never gives him the emotional, sentimental, meaningful proximity that he needs, so you have in common to crave physical touch and it would be a mutual thing for the two of you to show your emotions through touch rather than words.

You also have your love for music in common, and it’s so fitting because you like the same genres, which would only give him another way to be free around you. I can just imagine the two of you belting out your highest notes, totally off-key, while blaring rock music in his car.

To finish it off, loyalty is something he values above everything which is why he can never really hold on to long-term relationships or friendships. The only person who has ever been truly loyal to him was his mom, and even she made the active choice to leave him in the end, which is where his commitment issues stem from. So the fact that you’re genuinely loyal will be a complete game-changer. 

He, too, loves the feeling of being free, and I have no doubt in my mind that the two of you would find ways to feel that way together without him going back to his old, problematic methods.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I definitely don’t condone his behavior nor do I encourage anyone to stay in a toxic and abusive relationship, whether it be mental, emotional, or physical abuse. I don’t like savior-complexes and I don’t encourage anyone to get together with a “bad boy” because they think they can “cHaNgE HiM”.

But I feel like Billy is one of those cases that has certain circumstances that makes him a bit of an exception. He’s made some reaaaally bad choices and treated people very badly which he still has to be held accountable for, but going forward, he could be an amazing person if only he got reminded of what it feels like to be loved. Because at this point, he’s probably completely forgotten it, and living without love for so long will drive any person into madness.

I still wouldn’t recommend someone heading into a relationship with him solely for the purpose of “changing him”, but I do think that, if the right person came along on random, these changes wouldn’t at all be impossible.

The way he behaves toward people can’t be excused and he still needs to own up to his behavior and mistakes, but I think we’ve gotten it proven at the end of last season that he actually does want to be better and that all he needed toward the end was to be shown some genuine love in order to be able to make that change. 

 PEAKY BLINDERS

I ship you with Arthur Shelby!

Arthur is like Billy in a lot of ways, so this is a controversial one too for the same reasons, but Arthur is also very different.

While Billy has built up tall, strong, practically non-penetrable walls around himself to avoid having to feel anything, Arthur is much more emotional and aware of his mistakes since he never really managed to use his trauma to build up a protective wall, but rather just let them pile up without knowing how to properly process them so that he’s now stuck having to feel it all at once with no way out. 

He was left really vulnerable after his dad left which, I think, made him more open for the trauma he experienced during the war. It is my honest opinion that, had his dad still been in the picture, he would’ve been a lot less unstable today. But, as we know, his dad left him and his siblings, and that was the first trigger to a long line of domino bricks.

At this point, he’s so damaged that he has no sense of self-worth, whatsoever. He doesn’t feel worthy of love or a good life even though he wishes and dreams of it, so once he actually finds someone who wants to be with him, he falls hard, and would do anything in his power to be the best possible partner.

He’d be so romantic, so loving, so eager to please that he’d agree to pretty much anything requested of him. He’d abandon all of his other responsibilities to just live a happy life with you so living peacefully in a secluded area in a cottage with lots of animals is not something he would be opposed to at all. Nor would taking late-night strolls or staying in with you when everyone else goes out to drink be, because I’m certain that the only reason he drinks is because being sober on his own is too painful. 

His way of acting out with anger and violence is nothing more than a product of his environment. Every day, every sound, every smell, every person he surrounds himself with, are triggers to his multiple traumas and the longer he surrounds himself with chaos, the more he’s going to lose himself to his anger – because anger is the only emotion through which he knows how to handle his trauma, as no one has ever tried helping him onto a healthier road of recovery but rather just told him to “suck it up”.

So the fact that you’re so kind, calm, sympathetic and understanding, and that you’re recognize where anger, frustration and despair comes from, that you’re open and impartial toward everyone without any judgment or prejudice, and also have a calming and grounding effect on people would just help him so much. Everyone else that he frequently surrounds himself with are big parts of the problem that is his mental illnesses and aggressive and violent tendencies. They do nothing to help but rather encourages it and fuels the fire so they can use his anger for their own winning.

He’s just constantly told to suck it up, be a man, have a drink or three, snort a line of cocaine, blah blah blah. The way his mental instability is treated by his inner circle is the literal embodiment of toxic masculinity and does nothing to help his case, because then he starts hating himself even more for feeling all the emotions that he does.

So, once given the correct support that he needs, he would pay you right back by making sure you never go a day without being told how amazing you are and how lucky he is to have you. He would throw, or at least try to his absolute best ability to do so, all of your insecurities out the window before they’d even gotten the chance to get through the door. He would literally adore you and, metaphorically speaking, be ready to eat straight out of your palm if told to do so.

All he needs is kindness, understanding and most of all patience, because while he is a work in progress, he is trying.

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Seven Devils

Warnings: death

AO3  <<<Previous

Day 5

You woke up screaming. Looking around you didn’t immediately recognise where you were, throwing your sheets of and trying to get out of bed. One of the sisters rushed over to you to calm you down. “where… where’s Claire? Is she okay? Where am I?” you asked frantically. The sister continued to calm you down, informing you that you were in the infirmary and Claire was asleep in the dorms. You were found passed out in one of the old chapels, no one could explain how you got there. The sun had yet to rise, the sister encouraging you to go back to sleep for a few more hours. //// You woke up again, this time in the afternoon. Due to your wandering making you impossible to find, you were to be kept under watch by a sister, in case something happened. You currently sat in the library; you had gravitated towards this seat as soon as you entered the room. The book on the table in front of you had something to do with the history of the convent. You began to flip through the pages, hoping something would stand out to you. “The book isn’t written in English, do you want me to explain the history to you,” the sister watching you asked. You nodded, wanting the human contact. “Most of the convent was rebuilt because of a great fire.” “A fire? What happened? Did everyone survive?” you leaned into the conversation. “No one knows how it started. Some say a stray alter candle, some say it was intentional.” You wondered who would want to set a convent on fire. “As for the survivors,” she began to explain, “it was one of the miracles of St. Y/N. She had a dream that there was to be a fire, so she managed to get the sisters out before they were incinerated.” “What happened to the saint?” you asked. “She didn’t make it. She was found below the tree in the courtyard, the one with poisonous fruit. The story goes that she fought the devil and won, but he took her life in his anger. They say her soul rests within the tree itself and that’s why on a quiet day, you may hear a heartbeat.” You weren’t sure if you believed in God, but you were sure your belief in the devil got stronger every day. The sister continued to tell you the story, “Even the design of the convent is thanks to St. Y/N. She spent hours meticulously drawing up plans inspired by the divine. She made sure one of the sisters at the time left the burning convent with the plans. It is one of her other official miracles actually. Not a bad thing has happened in here since.” “The only fatality made such an impact,” you whispered. “Only? No there was one other death.” Your brows knitted in confusion; this was a new element to the story. “The Monseigneur at the time was also said to have perished in the fire. Apparently, he was deep in prayer. Most of his remains were incinerated however, not much of him was found.” “Michael,” you whispered. The sister gave you a confused look, “Yes, that was his name, how do you know.” You scrambled around for the answer, “Oh I think I heard someone speak about it.” You were not going to tell her that you saw the man in your dreams. ////

Your muscles had gone stiff from all that sitting down. The copious amounts of flies in the room were also bothering you. You had asked if you could walk around the courtyard and promised to return. You cracked your joints while heading out, trying to get rid of the stiffness. You closed your eyes as the cool, early evening air hit you. The sun would set soon, and you wanted to enjoy the outside while you could. This trip had to be the worst thing you had ever done, and you were going to give your parents an earful when you returned. You admired the flowers and their bright colours, swatting away the flies to get a good sniff of their sweetness. You stood and made your way to the centre of the courtyard, trying to listen for that heartbeat again. As you got closer to the tree, you thought you saw someone lying beneath it. Now was not the time to take a nap. You got closer and recognised the face, it was Claire. “Why are you taking a nap here?” you spoke to her, facing away slightly to avoid the suns glare. She didn’t reply. “Hey, I’m talking to you.” You kicked her slightly to wake her up. Instead, she fell limp to her side, an apple from the tree rolling away. It had been bitten. You quickly got down to help her up. You were met with a wide, glassy gaze. Her eyes were lifeless, their vibrant colour had faded. Flies had begun to eat at her face, starting at the remnants of the juice left by the fruit when she took a bite. It took you a while to comprehend the situation. Your mind flashed back to the first day here, the warning given to not eat the poisonous fruit. “WAKE UP Claire! Please … please wake up,” your mind processing what you didn’t want to accept. You screamed for help. Your voice cracking from the consistent screaming. the next few minutes went by in a blur. A sister checked her pulse and shook her head. You became hysterical, screaming something you could not remember, having to be pulled away by staff members. You had gone numb. You felt like you were underwater. Everything was muffled and nothing made sense. //// You had no idea how much time had passed when you were all called to stand outside for an announcement. “It is with the greatest sorrow, that I have to announce the passing of a dear friend and student.” The crowd gasped and began to murmur. “she was a wonderful student, a pillar of our community and the loss will leave a hole in our hearts.” Sister Y/N looked around as she snapped out of her daze, no longer paying attention to the mother superiors words echoing off the stone walls. Stone walls? She looked around confused. She could have sworn that they were all standing outside a minuet ago. This upset her even further. Was she really losing touch with reality now? She tried not to dwell on it too much, she had already been hysterical in front of these sisters more than once. Her puffy eyes and dry lips showed for it. She would keep her mourning private now. //// In her private grief, Sister Y/N spent more time in the run-down chapel, alone. The repairs would have to wait a while. Her days were spent in prayer or just staring at the wall, the numbness did not allow for anything else. Her daily routine was interrupted by the door creaking open. She knew who it was, the footsteps and expensive scent gave him away. She hadn’t seen him since the funeral. he walked into her line of vision, looking her up and down. “You poor thing,” he whispered “look at the state of yourself. One may think you were the corpse,” he chuckled. You didn’t find it funny. “Look at me Y/N” he gently held her face with an unwanted tenderness. Sister Y/n tried to fight the warmth from his touch. “I can take this all away. You know I can.” His thumbs gently stroked her cheekbones. “I can save you from drowning in this grief, offer you salvation of the highest kind.” He sat down next to her, face still in his hands. “All you have to do is come to me. Seek me out. Let me be the light in your darkness and I shall offer you eternal bliss.” His voice was low, barely echoing through the crumbling structure. The offer was enticing, what did she need all these negative emotions for anyway? Hadn’t she suffered enough? Maybe this was god’s way of offering her salvation. Before she could consider his offer any further, the softness of his hands began to feel sticky. The image of those very hands stuffing a body under the bed flashed through her mind. It was like a cat leaving a macabre gift for its owner. She quickly pulled his hands off her, not giving him any time to react as she ran from the room. She headed straight for her room, the one she hadn’t entered in days. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The room was now almost empty, only her bed and belongings remaining. All traces of her friend had, been erased. She sat on her bed staring at the empty void left behind. Her nose stung with the tears she tried to hold in. When she was younger, she would have turned to her mother for comfort. That was no longer possible. All she had left of her now was old letters and annotated grimoires detailing herbal practices. She opened her drawer and pulled a box out. She ran her finger over every groove in the wood, each intricate carving meant something. It was all protection spells, keeping her secret safe and only allowing her to open the box. Seeing her mother’s handwriting calmed her down, flipping through the pages and reliving some of the happier memories from her childhood. She would do anything to return to the cottage in the woods, where the summer breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and the sounds of the steam would lull her to sleep. Her mother’s humour carried on throughout her writing, leaving little notes as if she knew she wouldn’t be there when Y/N would need her. A she flicked through the book, one of her notes stood out to her: ‘Dear child, I must tell you never to trust beautiful men. Especially those with hair of spun gold and eyes of sapphire. They are almost never human. If you’re lucky he may be one of the fair folk. However, if God has forsaken you, he may well just be the devil’ The devil? Sister Y/N lay down and stared at the ceiling. The more she thought about it, the more the cogs turned. Maybe she was looking too much into it, trying to find something to blame for the terrible few months she was having. But then again, only the devil would parade around like a messiah, offering an illusion to those unhappy with the cards they were dealt in life. She got out of bed to grab her other books. Maybe this we her final test from God, to conquer the devil that had haunted these holy halls.

Next>>>

[just-call-me-johnny-archive]

The following contains mentions/implications of abuse, attempted sexual harrassment, mentions/implications of past sexual abuse/assault, graphic depictions of homicide/torture, mentions/implications of past suicide attempts, implications of police/military violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Johnny didn't learn for a while what the house wanted from him. It was clear that it demanded something of him. The ceiling seemed too low, mold-ridden even if he couldn't see any. The floors were freezing- wooden and splintering, but he hadn't bled once despite getting some shards embedded painfully into his hands when he searched the ground for his pencils after the moon went down. 

Every number he called about the electricity going out lead to a dial tone. His phone was strangely the only electronic- the only appliance- that still worked in the house. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been left in the bathroom to die and woke up with stark scars on his forearms, the shower curtain draped over his body, and the bathtub dry as a bone. And Vargas gone. For good it seemed. 

He almost wanted to believe it was a nightmare- that it all was a nightmare. So he tried to pick his life back up as he stepped out of the bathtub and went to find clothes and the thermostat.

One day, he found a bill on the table in front of the TV. He couldn't remember when he'd received any mail recently- let alone opened it. Even stranger than the bill was the message that had been printed on it. There wasn't any amount under 'AMOUNT DUE.' The only other print on the paper was red text reading 'UTILITY SERVICE TERMINATED DUE TO NONPAYMENT. REMIT PAYMENT TO CONTINUE SERVICE.'

There wasn't an address or a phone number to contact regarding the bill. Johnny was left confused over how to alleviate this debt. He didn't know who, when, where, or what. The only thing that he still had control over was the 'how.' He needed a job. 

 After digging around for a week or so, Johnny managed to uncover his portfolio that he'd submitted copies of alongside Edgar. He was not about to go back there- they loved his boyfriend and always doubted Johnny's judgment. 

There was a new comic publishing company; a start-up with a promising, rich CEO that was recruiting new styles. Macabre. Gothic. Grotesque. Mindfuck. It was perfect for Johnny. 

He put on the best outfit from his closet, something with a blazer and no rips in the jeans. He'd done his hair until the two antennae that hung over his face were hidden amongst the rest of his combed blue hair. Johnny walked into the office feeling confident that his second chance at life had been a blessing or a reward for surviving. 

Everyone working at the company currently was skinny, wired, and brutal. Nobody seemed to actually be creating anything- instead, they were all busy working on photo manipulation and advertisements. There also seemed to be someone altering a passport photo meticulously. 

Johnny's meeting with the CEO started off alright enough. The man listened to the artist speak about his work and he even asked a few things here or there. He asked something about the paint choice and Johnny responded in a way that he hoped didn't sound too try hard but also genuine. In truth, Vargas didn't let him use anything else.

Maybe he could sense that. Maybe the man could tell that Johnny was an easy target. Maybe Johnny had painted 'patsy' on his forehead in asshole-vision invisible ink.

Whatever had caused the conversation to turn towards Johnny's personal life- particularly his relationship status- was unimportant. He wanted to leave, but he figured that the man would probably ask that for reference purposes or perhaps personally-identifying information. Johnny told the CEO that he was single, recently left a relationship with his ex-fiance. The way that the man reacted should have said enough to him, but he tried to reason with his brain; he was overreacting. 

But to put it crudely, the CEO wanted fresh meat and Johnny was a free-bleeding fresh cut. Eyes still clear. Silent like a fish out of water, when he moved over and started massaging Johnny's shoulders, saying how awful that must have been. That he was there for him. That he was recently divorced himself. He understood. 

Johnny felt his hand being moved, heard a zipper being pulled down, and when the CEO moved his mouth to press against his ear, all Johnny remembered was that he had the other man's letter opener embedded in the space directly below his eye socket. He registered the crack of bone giving under unforgiving metal. The burst of red sprayed across his face and his shirt. The screaming. His screaming. 

He was on his knees over the blubbering, defaced CEO shouting out as if he was emptying every last moment of anger or shame or hurt into the puncture marks that kept adding up. Johnny wasn't sure if he was crying or that his body was finally catching up- maybe he was having a heart attack. 

He has no idea how long he kneeled on the grimey black floor of the CEO's office before he realized that nobody was coming. Surely, someone must have heard them. Was the police waiting right outside the door- bullets trained on him- ready to shoot to kill? The man who was under Johnny's blade was miraculously still alive- dying- but still actually alive and he only then heard the tiny whimpers of 'please, don't kill me' 'I'll change.' 

Johnny grabbed the man's stripped, bloodied face, digging his fingernails into the wounds, and his heart sung with the screeches that rung throughout the office. There was nothing else there except for Johnny and the filth disguised as a human being. 

He listened to him plead, held his face in his hands as the man continues to plead pathetically. Johnny's heart nearly jumped this time when he claimed 'he'd change'.

"No; you won't." His voice was venomous, low and angry in a way that sounded calm. "You will never change. You know what happens when I give people like you the opportunity to change? Do you? They stop for a little while, sometimes days, sometimes decades, because they're so fucking scared for their life. For jail time, for repercussion, Hell maybe for the Devil himself coming to fuck them up the ass for what they've done. But when the Devil doesn't come, when the tabloids remain silent, when the name becomes deceased or missing or disappears completely, you go right back to what you'd been doing before. You put your fingers or your face or your dick wherever you want because you think you're untouchable. You think you are above the lives that you've ruined. You think that they deserve it- or maybe that you deserve it for being so good for so long, right? Well, guess what?" 

"You won't get to do that because I'm going to end your life right here, right now. I'm going to end whatever cycle of abuse that may or may have swept you up and corrupted you - brought you to believe you somehow are entitled to this pain that you inflict on others. And I'm going to enjoy it."

The man was able to only let out a sharp 'please, no' before Johnny grabbed his skull and twisted it until he heard a snap and the person below him had turned into a corpse. Into a past tense. 

He was coated in blood. 

Johnny dropped the body unceremoniously before he shakily got onto his feet. It was copious. It was gruesome. He threw up into a potted plant near the door. He gathered his portfolio into his arms and picked up his application from the CEO's desk. Johnny slipped the single piece of paper into the paper shredder, watching it turn into dozens of tiny bits of future bunny bedding.  

He braced himself before he stepped into the workplace. He expected a lot of things. He expected to see a huge stack of chairs and terrified workers huddled behind them like frightened raccoons. He expected SWAT, FBI, CSI, NCSI, the Navy, Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and the Marines. He expected to have a bunch of horrified, traumatized faces staring back at him.

Instead, they looked annoyed. And the only people who were annoyed were the ones whose desks were closest to the CEO's office door. They glared at him, sneering like he was covered in shit and not in blood. Then they were completely disinterested. He was just some freak. They gossiped amongst themselves, but otherwise didn't approach Johnny. 

The man tore out of the comic publishing building and ran all the way home. It was midday- in the middle of December or January, where the sun was absent and the wind was unforgiving. Johnny had sweat through his stained clothing and the temperature change between the outside and the inside of his house was minute. The only shelter he had from the Winter chill was just covering from the elements.

Johnny walked into the bathroom and over to the bathtub and tossed the downed shower curtain out of the way. The water was freezing and felt like needles against even his clothed skin as he attempted to wash away the blood. It streamed down, staining the white porcelain as it streaked off of him and into the drain. 

The man had put his head against the tile, directly under the showerhead as he held himself. His eyes were shut tight, so it took him a moment of brief confusion before he opened his eyes to the bright lights of the bathroom and a gradually increasing warm shower. 

The water was perfect now and after getting past the initial shock, he undressed and continued to clean himself off the best he could. All that remained after he finished was the blood caked under his fingernails. He would cut them later. 

Johnny dried off using a somewhat warm, scruffy towel, it had been hanging there on the rack since he first awoke in the bathroom. He wrapped it around himself before he explored the rest of the house. It was warm, and the lights were all on. The electronics were all buzzing in a way they hadn't unless in memories. He opened the fridge and found that the food in there had not rotted. He picked out some lunch meat from a drawer and savored the usually incorrigible processed salty ham. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. Or the last time he slept. 

He needed clothes. He needed to get rid of the clothes at the bottom of his tub. Johnny went over to the bedroom where he hadn't tread since awakening. The light was on. The bed was still done but looked slept in. He went and grabbed the first shirt and pants and underwear that he found and then quickly went to clean up the mess in the bathroom.

He wrung the blazer out, pink-red water had poured and then streamed and then dribbled. He repeated this with the pants and then the shirt and his underwear and socks. His boots were not salvageable. That's fine. It was all fine. 

At least for now he did not have to immediately worry about paying the bill. In fact, the house felt warmer when he returned inside after he buried the clothes under the dirt of his dead front lawn. Johnny found a new paper attached to his freezer. He figured he'd missed it when he first went for the ham. 

He took it down after he grabbed a bag of microwavable pizza pocket bites. Johnny didn't know what it meant and how it happened, but he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was given another chance for a reason. He gnawed at his fingernails as he watched the plate spin in the microwave and the house hummed with life as it was finally fed.

'PAYMENT RECEIVED. 

UTILITY SERVICE WILL RESUME AS NORMAL. 

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. 

THANK YOU.'