#who reassured me this is normal and in fact necessary to keep me alive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

---------------

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

629 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Note

heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕

ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:

Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader

implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox

\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////

Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now.

You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too.

However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy.

In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English.

Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.

“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke.

So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that.

Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her.

Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest.

“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over.

“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“

“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language.

“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing.

With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly.

“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.

“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors.

“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest.

“Oh come here my little bean.”

//////////////////////

When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay.

It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together.

But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions.

So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately.

“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”

“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg” The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes.

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it.

“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.”

Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction.

“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”

“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”

“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ��kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”

“I really don’t think I could ev-“

“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat.

“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees.

“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”

“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips.

“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous.

“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.

“Fine, how was your day love.”

“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”

That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.

“Oh darling… you have no idea.”

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #fluff #Tom Holland angst

272 notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 23, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Nature Abhors a (Power) Vacuum

Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Xichen have gathered to decide what to do about the remaining Wen people and also what to do about the Yin metal. They have not invited Jiang Cheng to this discussion, or blowhard Clan Leader Yao, despite those clans having been hit particularly hard by the Wens in the course of the war.

The three of them have a conversation about what to do with the Wen captives, showing their different attitudes towards killing.

Jin Guangshan: Killing is awesome, particularly in project management. It's just so efficient. Nie Mingjue: Killing is necessary, and a little bit fun, too. Lan Xichen: Killing is necessary, sadly, but we can randomly spare some women or old people, as a token sign that we’re not monsters. Kind of like when you have a fancy dinner and include a tofu dish for the vegetarians. Nie Mingjue: Nobody likes tofu, Xichen.

Jin Guangshan says he's looking for the Yin Iron and that they can't let any Wens or "ambitious people" get a hold of it. By ambitious people he means Wei Wuxian, not himself and his murder kid. Lan Xichen realizes this right away but doesn't, you know, do anything to contradict him. Jin Guangshan says he's asked "A-Yao" to look into it. Which is smart, because A-Yao is already in cahoots with Xue Yang, who actually has the piece of Yin Iron they're looking for.

Getting Jiggy With It

Then Jin Guangshan introduces Meng Yao, now renamed Jin Guangyao, in a weird twist on generation names. He has given him the name of a sibling or cousin of his own generation (starting with Guang), rather than a name of the next generation (starting with Zi). JGS says that JGY just recently learned about about being related to him, although we know perfectly well that's not true.

And they both talk like he appreciates JGY's efficiency and helpfulness, but that's not why JGS has him at his side. He has taken him in because he is a steel-eyed murder bot, not in spite of it.

(OP does not believe that Jin Guangyao could have been a good person if only his dad had let him hold Jin Ling that one time, as some have argued. Dude killed his own child because there was a chance he might be disabled in a way that could lead to gossip. Dude is a stone cold killer.)

(more after the cut)

In the language of CDrama costume (which is not, precisely, the language of actual historical clothing), Jin Guangyao has chosen to dress as a minister instead of as a chevalier. This is partly an artifact of his mother's ideas about a gentleman. It also suggests that he’s content with the sort of career that's available to a bastard of a noble house--not inheriting the noble title, but having enough favor to rise in power.

It may also be a ruse to make him seem like he's not a strong cultivator and not a strong fighter, when in fact he is both, at least by the time he’s throwing death chords at Jiang Cheng, much later in the show.

Mingjue makes all kinds of grumpy faces and snarky remarks to let everyone know that he fucking hates Jin Guangyao. Xichen agrees to his “nice refugee camp with only a little death” plan, with no qualifications.

Now we get to see Jin Guangyao's manipulation of Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen says that Nie Mingjue wants a plan that’s more killy, because he believes in punishing evil. JGY deliberately misunderstands this, pretending that Lan Xichen said he, JGY, is evil, kind of forcing LXC to reassure him and take his side in an argument that isn’t actually happening.

They have a little handholding while bowing, and then after Lan Xichen leaves, Jin Guangyao puts on his evil face and has all the prisoners killed behind the big closed door.

This is done in such a violent fashion that the blood apparently flows up several stairs to the door, and over the tall raised threshold, before flowing downward toward the camera. Some evil is so extreme that even traditional Chinese doorway architecture can’t stop it.

Run To the Rock

Then we go outside to where Wei Wuxian is standing on a rocky outcropping, thinking it would be a good strategic spot to choose if he's ever in a battle where he wants to commit suicide right quick.

Lan Wangji comes to join him and admire the view, not knowing yet that this view, or one a whole lot like it, is going to be seared into his memory for most of his life.

Lan Wangji is becoming more and more committed to Wei Wuxian, more and more inexorably joined to him, but he still doesn't agree with him. So they each have this comfort in each others' presence at the same time as being massively in conflict.

Wei Wuxian asks him what he thinks of all the politicking and murdering. Who is good and who is evil? LWJ doesn't answer because WWX is leaking black smoke, so he grabs him and tells him to concentrate. Lan Wangji is, incidentally, wearing Princess-Leia quantities of lip gloss.

Lan Wangji asks if Wei Wuxian would like to learn a new tune, "Absterge" according to Netflix. The fuck? [op looks it up in the dictionary]. "To cleanse, especially by wiping." Also known as aftercare. Netflix. Honey. This word is MIDDLE FRENCH. Will you knock it the fuck off?

So anyway, instead of answering his question about who is good and who is evil, LWJ asks if he wants to learn a song called "Cleansing." Wei Wuxian says “hey babe, are you fucking kidding me?”

His actual words are "you doubt me too?" meaning "you think I also took the missing 4th chunk of Yin iron to make my ugly tiger amulet, rather than obviously having used that giant sword I pulled out of the turtle?"

Lan Wangji mentally replays Wen Ruohan's questions in his head--the questions he barked at Wei Wuxian right before choking him unconscious--which Lan Wangji also feels entitled to know the answers to. Fuck you, Lan Wangji. He answers WWX with "when did you forge your amulet?" Which is his way of saying "yes, I doubt you."

Wei Wuxian kindly refrains from saying "while we were on a break, bitch" and instead tells him the exact truth--I found a yin iron sword in the turtle--but says it in his patented "make it sound like a lie" way.

LWJ keeps grilling him, eventually coming out and saying dude, you knew the sword was Yin iron, why did you need to use it?

This is the crucial question--why WWX broke his first promise, to Lan Yi, which was to try to get rid of the Yin Iron. He won’t tell anyone the answer, which is that he needs to use it because he can't cultivate normally, because he lost his golden core. He made a lot of promises before that happened, and he probably expected to keep them. But without his core, everything changed; without his core, he’s a different person, so it’s maybe not fair to expect him to honor his previous promises.

I’m reminded of my grandfather, who was the oldest son of an old southern US family, with lots of expectations as the firstborn. He went off to WWI as a soldier, expecting to die. He didn’t die, and so from that point on, he regarded his life as a gift. He felt could do whatever he wanted with it, and let go of expectations from before the war. He moved to Paris and took up with a glamorous divorcee 7 years older than him (my Grandma, eventually).

The actual point of that story, other than OP having cool grandparents, is that when you think you’re going to die, and then you don’t die, your ideas about what you owe to people can change quite a bit. Wei Wuxian expected to die in the Burial Mounds; he expected to die at Nightless City; he expects it, over and over, and each time he doesn’t die, he gets further and further from being what everyone else wants him to be. And--a lot like soldiers returning from a war-- NOBODY in his life knows how to talk to him about it.

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji to back off, Lan Wangji says why aren't you letting me help you, and they are once again on the edge of the same fight they keep having. Lan Wangji does some impassioned arm holding while Wei Wuxian says he's not like Wen Ruohan.

Romantic Duet #1

The argument is interrupted by screams and killing, so they go to check it out, and find the Jins hunting down some prisoners for sport. They arrive in time to save two people. Yay?

Jin ZIxun acts like a jerk, as always. The new element is that per Jin Guangshan, anyone concerned with Yin Iron shouldn't be alive. He says that the Lan and Nie clans agreed, and challenges Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji stops him from responding, grabbing his wrist.

The Jins leave and Wei Wuxian refers back to their earlier conversation, saying there will be more resentful spirits now and that "Rest" is the music to play, not "Cleansing."

He gives Lan Wangji a long look and then pointedly removes Lan Wangji’s hand from his wrist, by holding his hand, which is some next-level mixed signaling. Lan Wangji totally deserves it at this point, though. He keeps pushing and pushing WWX about his cultivation method, but he refuses to discuss the underlying morality of it, or the morality of the killing going on right in front of them.

WWX walks off, leaving LWJ to stew in his own juices surrounded by a bunch of fresh corpses.

Lan Wangji fails his saving throw against the guilt trip, and sits his ass down to play Rest, just like Wei Ying told him to. So switchy! Wei Wuxian, out of sight but not out of earshot, hears him and accompanies him on Chenqing.

This scene is slightly ridiculous and a whole lot sublime. Ridiculous because it's their first time playing music together, so it's a super slow, romantic, extended scene, but they're surrounded by corpses. And not the helpful, friendly, third-wheel-on-a-date type of corpses.

It's sublime because the occasion of their first beautiful, literally magical duet is an argument. And they are joining together to play beautiful romantic music - as a service for the dead. And they are doing it while they are on literally opposite sides of a literal killing field. And Lan Wangji is sitting literally in the middle of a wide open road; the sort of road that they will both reject, metaphorically, later in the show. There is so much about their conflict and their journey that is encapsulated in this one musical moment.

Lan Wangji, by playing the song Wei Wuxian said was needed, is telling WWX that he took his words to heart, that he is listening, even though they're at odds.

WWX, by stopping and playing with him, is acknowledging this. And by settling the dead souls together, they are both reinforcing their dedication to doing what's right even as they both struggle with knowing what that is.

When Other Friendships Have Been Forgot, Ours Will Still Be Hot

Now we have the sworn brothers thing. I understand, plot wise, why this has to happen, but why would Nie Mingjue ever agree to this? Lan Xichen's puppy eyes are just that persuasive?

If they ever crack your spine, drop a line If they ever cut your throat, write a note If you’re ever in a mill and get sawed in half, I won’t laugh (HA HA HA HA)

Tedious Party Time

Now there's a cultivation party, which is about as excruciating to watch as it would be to attend.

Everyone is lining up to praise Jin Guangshan. To be fair, he did provide shelter for most of the smaller clans while the war was going on. So being grateful is appropriate, but Clan Leader Yao practically breaks his own neck kissing Jin ass. Yao says JGY’s contribution was the greatest of the war, adding, "fuck Wei Wuxian; everything is his fault."

The Jiangs show up wearing mourning belts that show off their itty bitty waists, and Jin Guangshan makes shifty eyes like a cartoon landlord when he sees them arrive.

JGS praises Jiang Cheng, and asks when his fancy clan-leader ceremony is going to happen. Jiang Cheng says he's still in mourning so it's not appropriate. JGS is like “Oh...yeah," as if he totally forgot about all the Yunmeng slaughter, and talks up his friendship with Jiang Fengmian. He acts comforting while WWX manages not to barf.

Then the Lan clan shows up and there is nice encouraging chit chat between LXC and JC...

...and just, SO MUCH mournful staring between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Then the Nies arrive. Jin Guangshan tells Nie Mingjue he's late, and that everyone's waiting for him. That might be true in the script but it’s clearly bullshit on the screen, where the Lans and the Jiangs are still milling around looking for the coat room.

Nie Mingjue--who, let's remember, JUST swore to be brothers with Jin Guangyao--looks at him like he's something that fell off a garbage truck. Lan Xichen jumps in to maximize the discomfort by pointing out that Jin Guangyao should address Nie Mingjue as Big Daddy Da-ge from now on.

Then the Jins offer Nie Mingjue the giant fire throne because...he's the leader of the Sunshot campaign, I guess? Of course it's all a manipulation tactic, designed to make him say he won't sit there, so that JGS can elevate himself to head cultivator, or something? And sit in front of the throne but not on it? Cultivator succession seems kinda arbitrary.

I swear to god, it wasn't until I was clipping this episode that I realized Wen Ruohan had two thrones and they're in different rooms from each other.

Finally everyone goes to sit down, but because there hasn't been enough fucking awkwardness, JGY stops WWX to ask him what's on his mind. WWX asks him why he's not carrying his sword, which made me laugh and laugh. Wei Wuxian must have been just waiting for a chance to ask someone else that question for a change.

Jin Guangyao says he threw it away, because it was just a random sword, but he really means he had it made into a sneaky murder belt, that he will be using again in 13 to 16 years. They both fake-laugh and trade Mean Girls insults pretend to like each other.

Everyone wanders around toasting each other. Lan Wangji goes to find Wei Wuxian, after first making sure that his hair looks good.

Wei Wuxian is lying around on the steps, sprawling and drinking wine, and not, incidentally, looking for Lan Wangji. He continues to not seek him out and Lan Wangji continues to chase after him.

Wei Wuxian says "how about playing Cleansing?" but Lan Wangji says he's learning a new score. It looks like it's going to be another argument, but then Wei Wuxian smiles and kind of praises Lan Wangji for being stubborn.

Awkward Marriage Proposal

Just then everyone inside starts cheering for Jin Guangshan to give a speech. Jin Guangshan is making a move to marry Jiang Yanli to his son, which is a big time power grab, given that the Jiang Clan is 1. vulnerable and depleted 2. has control of the Yin tiger amulet.

We get a very rare glimpse into Jiang Cheng’s inner mind, where he thinks that saying yes isn’t a great idea, but isn’t sure what to do. This marriage would make his sister happy, but could destroy the Jiang Clan's independence.

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian joins the party just in time to fuck up Jin Guanshan’s plans. Will this teach Jin Guangshan not to invite Wei Wuxian to parties? It will not.

Soundtrack: Friendship, by Cole Porter (from “Anything Goes”)

Bonus:

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #words:2750

249 notes · View notes

i-dreamed-i-had-a-son · 4 years ago

Text

Can I just say Bones does not get nearly enough credit for how well he reads people?? Like, we all forget that he is not only a doctor, he's a psychiatrist as well. And not only is he insanely good at reading Jim, we also see him read and understand Spock (who is his opposite and with whom he frequently disagrees) and push him when it's necessary. It's Bones' words that make some of the most powerful exchanges out of all the 79 original episodes. Here is proof (and there's a lot of it):

Balance of Terror

Jim's doubting himself and is dealing with a lot of stress because of all his responsibilities and the burden of making decisions, and asks Bones, "What if I'm wrong?" This is an incredibly vulnerable moment for Jim, who always has to be strong, and when Bones starts to answer, Jim gets up and says "I wasn't really expecting an answer."

Bones immediately puts his hand on his shoulder, stops him, and says, "Well, I've got one." Completely unexpected by Jim. Bones starts off by saying "This isn't something I'd usually tell a customer," then gives the speech we all probably know, about how there are millions of possible earth-like planets, "but in all of that, and possibly more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk."

Let's break down why this is so good. First, Bones lets Jim know that he sees how vulnerable Jim is being and that he's talking to Jim as a friend. He recognizes that Jim's identity is fundamentally tied to his role as a captain, and also acknowledges how deep Jim's doubts are going, and at the same time reminds Jim that he is the one in control of himself (something very grounding for Jim) and he is not alone (because Bones is supporting him). Most of all, he doesn't dwell on the vulnerability Jim's expressing, but encourages him to take action, which is Jim's natural bent. He perfectly adapts to how Jim functions and knows what to say to get him back into a place where he can do what he does best: lead.

The Ultimate Computer

Jim has been been feeling insecure and threatened this entire episode, because a computer may take away his role as captain. Twice he seeks out Bones for comfort. First, he tells him that he has concerns about the computer, but worries about his motives. "You have my psychological profiles; am I afraid? Of losing my job? ...Daystrom's right, I could do a lot of other things. Am I afraid of losing the power, the prestige? Am I that petty?"

Bones replies, "Jim, if you're self-aware enough to ask that question, you don't need me to answer it for you. Why don't you ask James T. Kirk? He's a pretty honest guy."

Breakdown: Bones responds beautifully by once again reminding Jim that he knows himself and is in control. That sense of confidence is all Jim is after. He also establishes earlier in the conversation that what Jim is feeling is not unusual and can be understood. Brilliant.

The second time Jim reaches out to Bones (this episode is my favorite for a reason), he's doubting his role even more intensely, having just been blatantly insulted and called useless (affirming his insecurities). He left the bridge, silently, by himself, and even Spock didn't follow him out. Bones knew he needed help and went to him, with some drinks (Jim initially responds that he's not interested in eating--coping by losing interest in food) and a joke and light-hearted attitude, so that Jim can feel comfortable expressing himself. Jim puts on an air of not caring (shutting himself off from his emotions) and says he's never felt so useless, and makes a cynical joke as a toast, "To Captain Dunsel" (the insult from earlier, meaning "unnecessary").

Bones stops him, looks him in the eye, and says "To James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise." Jim says softly, "Thank you, Doctor," and when he downs his glass, Bones follows suit.

There's just so much good about this. Bones seeks him out even when he was trying to isolate himself because he knew Jim tends to distract himself and unhealthily repress things. And he doesn't let Jim get away with being blasé about how he's been hurt, but he doesn't force him to be honest either; instead, he lets Jim know he sees how he's feeling and how deeply he's hurt, and also reaffirms that Bones still cares about, respects, and most of all, believes in him. When Jim starts talking after the drink, Bones just listens and lets him talk, and when Jim responds to the call to the bridge, he follows him out. Back in action, and another job well done.

The Trouble With Tribbles

Just a brief point with this: Spock is just being silent here, which is typical for him. But Bones asks him "What's the matter, Spock?" seemingly out of the blue. Spock responds with, "There's something disquieting about these creatures," which means that he was feeling off, and Bones picked up on it. Bones then makes a joke ("Don't tell me you've got a feeling!") which lets Spock know that Bones sees what he's saying but isn't treating it as unusual (since the joking between them is their normal behavior). And when Spock continues talking, he hears him out (although it eventually degenerates into their typical spat).

All Our Yesterdays

Spock has begun degenerating into a pre-reformed-Vulcan version of himself. He gives up on trying to get back to their proper time and becomes irritable. Bones notices that something's wrong almost immediately.

He starts by asking about Jim (because he knows how deeply Spock cares for him), and Spock responds apathetically. This clearly shocks Bones, who then says "I don't believe it, Spock. It's just not like you to give up trying." When Spock doesn't acknowledge something's off, Bones presses him: "I understand. I never thought I'd see it, but I understand. You want to stay here. In fact, you're highly motivated to stay in this forsaken waste!" Spock deflects again, and Bones keeps pressing, which leads to Spock grabbing him by the neck and saying angrily, "I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure." Bones simply looks him in the eye and asks calmly, "What's happening to you, Spock?"

Instead of hassling Spock about why he isn't doing more, he focuses on what's wrong with Spock himself, and he clearly has a deep understanding of who Spock really is. He starts by trying to get a feel for Spock's emotional state by going to ground 0: Jim. And he doesn't back down when Spock tries to blow him off.

Seeing that he's getting nowhere, Bones bides his time, and then starts something with Zarabeth, knowing Spock will jump to her defense.

When Spock pins him against the wall, Bones calmly says, "Are you trying to kill me, Spock? Is that what you really want? Think! What are you feeling? Rage, jealousy--have you ever had those feelings before?" Spock is clearly affected by this, and says it's impossible, since he's a Vulcan. Bones sees his opening, saying "The Vulcan you knew won't exist for another 5000 years! Think, man! What's happening on your planet right now, at this very moment?" Spock answers with the facts, and Bones tells him flat-out what's going on: he's reverting. Spock falls quiet, and says, "I've lost myself. I do not know who I am."

Bones is specifically structuring his responses (both here and earlier) to cause Spock to evaluate himself--to think, which has always has grounded Spock. Bones indirectly (so that Spock doesn't feel as threatened by the accusation) indicates that Spock's being too emotional. He wants Spock to see for himself that something's wrong, so Bones asks questions or makes open-ended statements so that Spock will have to respond. He also provides enough evidence (pointing out the emotions Spock is feeling) to prove he has a point and guide Spock towards a conclusion. He's talking Spock through it, using reason and logic, which Spock has always responded to. Bones' questions are also phrased so that the answers are objective facts--he's bringing Spock back to the verifiable, Spock's comfort zone. Finally, he does the analysis for Spock, telling him what's undeniably happening, but leaves the course of action open to Spock, so that he can regain control of himself by deciding how to proceed. Bones smoothly and logically guided Spock to the delicate realization he needed to have.

Of Bread and Circuses

Then of course we have this iconic exchange. Jim's been separated from the both of them and they are all in danger. Spock is pulling at the bars although he knows it will be futile.

Bones calls him out on this, and then thanks him for saving his life. When Spock brushes him off and keeps his walls up, Bones says, "I know why you're not afraid to die, Spock. You're more afraid of living. Every day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip--and let your human half peek out." Spock is silent and looks away, and Bones continues, now smiling slightly: "That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling." His face makes it clear he's gently baiting Spock, who then looks back at Bones and says, "Really, Doctor?" Bones replies softly, "I know. I'm worried about Jim, too."

First thing: Spock's theme starts playing when Bones corners him. So we're supposed to get that Bones is really laying him bare. But starting from the beginning of the scene, Bones recognizes Spock's anxiety through his illogical behavior. He takes the time to thank Spock for saving his life, in an effort to remind Spock that he is competent and in control--basically, trying to calm Spock down and reassure him. When Spock refuses to deal with his emotions productively, Bones is having none of it, and shows Spock just how much he knows. He can tell Spock isn't worried for himself ("you're not afraid to die") but also is well aware of Spock's actual fears (which are coloring his current behavior towards Bones). Basically, Bones is saying, "this facade of yours can't keep me out. You're understood. You're not alone." Saying it in those terms, though, would just make Spock feel weak for unsuccessfully trying to mask his behavior, so Bones frames it as a gentle challenge. When Spock looks away, he can tell he's hit the nail on the head, and he smiles because he's getting through to him. His face as he says "you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling" telegraphs to the audience that he's not actually serious, but is looking for a response. And he gets it--Spock acknowledges, as Bones had intended, that he is currently dealing with emotions. And that's where Bones wanted to get him, because now that he's admitted it, he can move forward; but Bones doesn't want this admission to go unrewarded, and definitely doesn't want Spock to go on believing that Bones meant what he'd said about not knowing what to do with feelings, so he again tells Spock that he understands what's really going on, but without challenge this time. He just accepts it and reassures Spock that he's not alone: "I know. I'm worried about Jim too." They're in it together, and now that Spock is a little more vulnerable, he's able to see that Bones is right beside him.

So that was a lot, but there is definitely even more. Basically, give Bones the appreciation he deserves, because his emotional intuition is off the charts. (After all, as he is so fond of reminding us, he is a doctor!)

#star trek #star trek tos #spock #jim kirk #bones mccoy #bones #meta #my meta posts #quality meta seal of approval #photoset #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #kay watches tos #1k #this post will be quiet for a while and then suddenly pick up like 200 notes at a time and it makes me really happy to see 😂😂

1K notes · View notes

paperpocalypse · 4 years ago

Text

pb & m.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 2,749 words

Warnings: Referenced animal death/gore

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

Klaus sighs loudly, bringing his foot up to his face with practiced ease. “He’s probably just stewing over his training again,” the boy says, flexing his toes gingerly before blowing on his big toe. You purse your lips at his words, screwing the cap of black nail polish shut, and Klaus looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes. “It’s Five, [Y/n]. You should see him when you leave for the weekend. Total shut in.”

“But he hasn’t even come down for lunch or supper.” Setting the nail polish down, you tuck your knees up towards your chest, brow furrowing. “I mean, he doesn’t usually do that, does he?”

“I dunno. Sometimes!” Klaus exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You know, he talks all the time about what a mess I am, but he’s hardly more functional than me.”

You frown at him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t skip meals when I’m gone, do you?”

He waves you off. “Of course not. But that’s not the point. The point is, Five is a broody boy obsessed with his powers, so don’t be surprised if he wants to be alone for a day or a week.”

“He’s not a loner.”

“Well, he tries to be more sociable when you’re here.”

“No.” You pause, resting a cheek on one knee. “I’d still like him even if he wasn’t.”

Klaus just raises his eyebrows, sending another gust of air toward his toes.

The black and red stripes on his nails are settling quite nicely, but the success doesn’t make you as proud as it usually would. You chew your lip and look at the closed door. Normally, during this time in the late evenings, you wouldn’t be surprised if Five blinked through, supposedly to take back something Klaus had snuck from his room or to make sure neither of you “had died” – though you’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to hang out with you and Klaus, since he’d stay a little longer after confirming that you and Klaus were, in fact, still alive. No such visit tonight. In fact, you’ve barely seen him all day.

The thought dampens your mood quite a bit.

The next thing you know, Klaus propels himself to a stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blinking as he stretches and gives you a particular look.

“More like where are you going,” he replies, sighing. He grabs a hold of your wrist and starts tugging. “If you’re going to pine after Five all night, you might as well do something about it. Go … pop in and see what he’s up to.”

Break into Five’s room? Even though it’s tempting, you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the pining part. “You said he wanted to be alone. He might get mad at me.”

“He can’t get mad at you. He’d die of guilt.”

Klaus continues to pull on your arm until you’re sure it’ll come off if you stay on the floor. You give him an imploring look as you stand up, though the thought of checking up on Five is sounding more and more necessary by the second.

“Klaus –”

All the boy does is say your name right back as he throws the door open, nudging you outside into the dimly lit hallway. “Go have your quality time and come back when you’re done.”

“Are you sure –”

“He’ll be ecstatic. Especially if I’m not there.” And with that, Klaus shoos you off with a smile, closing the door.

Now alone, you look down the empty hallway, feeling mildly exposed and hoping that Five doesn’t come down the stairs right at this moment. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to go up there, but … it’d make more sense if Klaus checked up on him, wouldn’t it? No matter how well you get along with Five, he and Klaus are brothers. They know each other a lot better than you probably ever will.

You should get him some food.

Inhaling sharply, you turn on your heel and make your way down the stairs, trying to make much less noise than you usually would – though you doubt anybody would care too much about a squeaking step, travelling through the Hargreeves mansion, especially down to the kitchen at night, still makes you wary of making your presence too big sometimes.

The air gets a bit chillier as you descend the last stretch of stairs leading to the basement, going faster as you get closer to the ground. Strangely, the lights in the kitchen are already on; you skip the last step and hurry through the gaping hole in the wall, curious.

Number Seven looks up from the table as you enter the kitchen, her surprised expression mirroring yours.

“Vanya?” you blurt.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and you look down at the ingredients spread across the table. A jar of peanut butter, a half-finished bag of wonder bread. A bag of marshmallows – the mini ones used for rice krispies. Intrigued, you venture closer. You didn’t know Vanya had a sweet tooth.

(Suddenly, you realize that you don’t know much about her at all.)

“What are you doing down here?” you ask as you approach the table.

She looks at you, still a bit wide-eyed, then looks down at the slice of bread in her hand. “Um,” she starts, then pushes forward, “I was … Five missed dinner and lunch, so I was going to make him something to eat.”

“Really?” You beam, glad that she had the same idea. You could go together. “So was I. Mind if I help?”

For a moment, Vanya hesitates. But then she nods cautiously, smiling a little, and you give a thumbs up and head over to the utensil drawer. Opening it up, you take a moment to try to attract one of the butter knives to your hand, but after it does nothing more than quiver a bit, you sigh and pick it up with a finger.

“Five really likes peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches,” Vanya explains when you walk back to the table. “They’re his favorite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

You fetch a bread slice from the bag and set it on the cutting board, then, after peeking over at Vanya’s work, scoop up a big glob of peanut butter and slather it onto the bread. She sprinkles some marshmallows on top of hers and squishes another slice on top of the marshmallows. You follow her lead exactly. The minute or two that you spend making the sandwich are all wordless, very unlike when you and Klaus are together, but you find yourself enjoying them either way.

“Maybe we could bring him a drink, too? What do you think?” you ask.

She nods. “There’s apple juice in the fridge.”

—

The presentation isn’t anything fancy, but it gets the job done, and you get the task of carrying the cup of apple juice while Vanya holds onto the sandwiches.

“I hope it’s okay,” Vanya murmurs after she knocks on Five’s door, shifting on her feet.

Even though you’re wondering the same thing, you instinctively nod your head. “Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “We did a good job.”

She looks over at you out of the corner of her eye and manages a small smile in return. Right after that, the door opens.

You immediately feel a bit better upon seeing Five; however, the happiness gives way to concern when you see his expression.

Five looks at the two of you, then at the plate in Vanya’s hands and the cup in yours, before speaking.

“Now’s not a good time.”

His tone isn’t cruel or dismissive. But it is a little dry, and very heavy and tired, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from telling him so.

Vanya’s face falls.

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer when both siblings’ gazes move away from the other. “Five,” you say, reaching out to touch Five’s shoulder gently. “Vanya’s been really worried about you. And me, too. We, um, wanted to bring you something to eat.”

The boy glances at Vanya again, who seems to have shrunk a little but still nods, and to your relief, his lips purse. He finally backs away from the door to let the two of you through.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, heading back to his desk. “… But thanks.”

Trailing after Vanya, you inspect Five’s room as you walk in. The walls are already crammed with chalky equations and notes and graphs, none of which you can begin to understand. When you look over at the corner where Five is, you spot the wastebasket next to his desk, filled to the brim with crumpled notebook paper. Klaus was partly right, you think with worry. You’re not completely surprised.

You make your way over to Five and put the cup of apple juice on his desk, right next to the plate of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. “You need to eat to think better,” you plead when he looks at you. “Right, Vanya?”

“I put lots of marshmallows,” she adds. “And I showed [Y/n] how to make one for you too.”

“I might’ve put too much peanut butter,” you mutter, scratching the back of your neck.

“That’s fine.”

You crack your brightest grin. “Famous last words, Five.”

He shrugs and turns back to his work. The two of you wait expectantly, albeit somewhat awkwardly, watching Five stare at his math and the textbook propped up against the wall in front of him. The end of his pen taps against the open pages of his notebook: tap tap tap tap tap. But he doesn’t write. You don’t think he even blinks. Troubled, you share a glance with Vanya; this time, it’s she who nods at you, reassuring.

Finally, Five sighs and puts his pen down. You don’t know if you’re glad or feel bad for it. Maybe both.

“Do you want us to leave?” Vanya ventures to ask.

He shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Stay,” he mutters, standing up. He picks up the cup of apple juice and takes a gulp, then grabs the plate and strides across the room to his bed. “Just in case my jaw is glued shut from [Y/n]’s sandwich.”

Vanya suppresses a snort. Your mouth drops open.

“Hey!”

Still, the joke – a Five joke, but a joke nonetheless – brings a cautious but real smile to your face as Five sits on the edge of his bed, taking a bite out of one of the sandwiches. You don’t know which one is yours and which one is Vanya’s. Not that it matters, unless his jaw really does get glued shut because of the peanut butter. You’ll shoulder the blame in that case.

(… Could your jaw get glued shut from peanut butter?)

You gravitate toward the bed as Five eats, sitting down next to him; Vanya lingers by the desk a little longer, and you wave her over.

“Come sit, Vanya.”

She looks between the two of you, then obliges, going over to sit on the other side of Five. She rests her hands on top of the comforter, leaning back on them as Five finishes the first sandwich and starts on the next one.

“We barely saw you after joint training,” you say after a minute or so of watching him polish off one half of the sandwich. Not hungry, he said. His actions definitely say otherwise. “Have you been working all day?”

He gives a brief, affirming grunt.

Taking that as a sign to go on, you swing your legs slightly back and forth. “I missed seeing you,” you say.

You think you see Vanya’s expression shift in your peripheral, but she turns her head before you can make sure. You also think Five stops chewing for a split second, but there shouldn’t be a reason for him to be surprised, so you’re probably just imagining things.

Five is your friend. Of course you’d miss seeing him if he disappeared all day.

In any case, he finally speaks again once there’s just a single piece of crust left; and when he does, his voice is so low that you wonder if he’s talking to himself.

“I had a drawback today.”

Vanya furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

Five stares down at the last scrap of crust, picking at a loose crumb. It falls onto the plate. “I could blink with mice on my first try. So Dad wanted me to blink with a dog today.” His voice remains low. “And I …”

For the first time today – and perhaps even this month – you witness Five’s expression crumple just the slightest bit. An uneasy feeling squirms in your chest.

“I botched it.”

“It’s … it’s okay, Five,” you try to comfort, “I’m sure you tried your –”

He shakes his head, cutting you off with a glare. “No,” he snaps, “you don’t get it. I botched it. I blinked with the dog and it turned inside out.”

Vanya’s eyes widen.

Your stomach turns.

So that’s why. Biting your lip, you stare at Five, horrified, trying desperately not to imagine what that had looked like. What that had felt like. Inside out. Sir Hargreeves doesn’t care for animals, you know that, but you didn’t think – you don’t know why you didn’t –

“I’m sorry, Five,” Vanya whispers as you hug Five, her voice shaky. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs blandly, and you tighten your hold, feeling how tense he actually is. “Intentions don’t mean anything if you screw it up in the end.”

He finishes the crust, moving away from your hug to put the plate on his nightstand. Vanya wipes her eyes. When he comes back, you reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for telling us, Five,” you tell him softly.

If Five looked tired before, now he seems utterly drained. But the tension seems to have ebbed. Just a little. And after a few seconds, he squeezes your hand back; well, not really a squeeze, but his fingers tighten, just barely, around yours. He meets your eyes and you smile a small smile.

Vanya gives her brother a brief hug, then stands up. “We should go,” she tells you reluctantly, glancing at the alarm clock. “Dad’s going to check our rooms soon.”

Dammit, you hate curfew. “Yeah, you’re right.” You pull away, not quite liking how cold your hand feels when you let go. Quickly weighing your options, you wrap your arms around Five one last time and give him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up as well. “See you tomorrow, Five. Try to get some sleep?”

He just shrugs, looking at the equations on his wall. Oh. Hopefully, you think as you grab Vanya’s hand and open the door, you didn’t make him too uncomfortable. The door creaks loudly and you cringe.

With one last “goodbye” from the two of you, which he returns in a murmur, you and Vanya hurry out of Five’s room and head quietly down the stairs.

“I hope he feels better,” you whisper, letting go of Vanya’s hand to hold onto the railing.

“I think he does. A little bit, at least.”

You reach the bottom, hesitating before saying what’s on your mind. “Um, Vanya?”

“Mhmm?”

“You know Five really well, right?”

The girl blinks, then smiles a little proudly. “… Oh, well, I guess so.”

“Does Five not like hugs?” you worry. “I just – I kinda do it without thinking, you know, and I think I might’ve made him uncomfortable back there.”

Vanya stares at you openly for a moment, tilting her head. “Not usually,” she eventually responds. Then a corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “But … I think he likes yours.”

“Oh.” That makes you feel better. “That’s good.”

“You should ask him later, though.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Footsteps lighter, you head to your room across from the stairs and twist the doorknob, then stop short. That’s right – Klaus wanted you to come back after you visited Five. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you figure that you’ll need to talk to him tomorrow morning, not wanting extra repetitions for loitering in the hallway. He’ll understand.

Pushing the door open, you look back at Vanya. “’Night, Vanya.”

She smiles, and you feel the warm glow of a newfound camaraderie with the seventh sibling.

“’Night.”

329 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 3 years ago

Text

Let the magic of my love take care of you

Summary :

Five times where Loki takes care of Mobius with the help of magic and once where he doesn't need it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32777188

2311 words - Rating G

"Hey here!" Loki said softly as he entered Mobius' office.

"Loki!"

"I've come to give you my report on the mission with the new recruits." continued Loki as he came to sit across from Mobius.

"I'm listening."

If anyone entered the office at this moment, there would be no indication that the two men were a couple.

But if one stayed, he would see the way their fingers brushed against each other as Loki gave Mobius the file he held in his hands, the way Mobius moved his chair closer so their knees touched, or the closer than necessary distance between their heads when Loki pointed out a detail on the papers spread out before them.

All these small gestures were evidence of their relationship, but only visible to those who knew them.

Once he finished his report, Loki stood up. His gaze fell on Josta's open can on a corner of Mobius' desk.

"How long ago did you open it?"Loki asked him.

"This morning," Mobius answered before shrugging his shoulders.

Loki took the can in his hand, which gradually turned blue, the color of his Jotun skin.

He kept it for a few seconds and then put it back under Mobius' curious look. On the can you could see the droplets of steam caused by the drink, which was now cold.

He leaned towards Mobius and said softly, "I know you prefer to drink it cold..."

Then as he got up he winked at him before turning and heading for the door.

He turned around one last time, and said, "See you later." Before closing the door behind him under the amazed look of Mobius.

"Papers, papers, always papers! I can't take paperwork anymore!" Mobius threw his pen towards the door, but he didn't hear the sound it should have made as it smashed against it. He looked up to see Loki had just entered his office and caught the pen in mid-air.

"Are you tired of me already that you want to eliminate me?" asked Loki with a teasing smile on his face.

"Aaah Loki... shit, lunch! The cafeteria! I forgot about it! I'm sor-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay Mobius, Casey told me you probably wouldn't show up, seeing as how the last time he saw you the files were piling up on your desk." replied Loki as he walked over to him.

"That doesn't stop me from being sorry."

Loki shook his head, "It's not like we'll never get another chance, and honestly what worries me the most is not that you didn't come, but the fact that you're missing out on a meal again."

Mobius protested, "It's okay I-"

Loki stopped him with a hand, "But as a devoted companion, I thought of you and... tada...!"

Loki twirled his hand and amidst the green swirls appeared... a bowl of salad, which he placed on Mobius' desk after making room.

Mobius couldn't help but laugh as he recognized the bowl of salad.

"What are you doing?"

"...your salad is Asgard in this scenario."

"No, it's not Asgard, that's my lunch."

"It's a metaphor. Just hang in there."

" I want that salad."

"I understood that this dish was your preference."

Mobius replied, raising an eyebrow, "Last time, that didn't stop you from adding salt, pepper and whatever else to it to prove your theory. With a metaphor that by the way was at least as bad as the dagger one..."

"Hey, I was right anyway, well about the salad not the dagger..."

Mobius gave him a knowing smile. He had seen the conversation between Loki and Sylvie.

"Love is a dagger." Loki made appear a dagger before continuing, "It's a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful. Until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it…"

Loki offers the hilt to Sylvie. She reaches to take it, but the dagger disappears.

"It isn't real."

"It's real."

"It is, yes," Loki replied, then kissed him tenderly before walking away. As he closed the door, however, he threw out in a serious tone, "Don't forget to eat your salad."

Mobius smiled at his words, who would have thought his lover had a mother-hen side?

"A planet where it rains all the time! Guys... remind me to put this on the checklists of things to verify before teleporting to a planet: 'Check the weather.'"

Mobius had just passed the time-door, soaked like a drowned rat. They had been on a mission to search for someone on an unknown planet where apparently there was only one sort of weather : rain.

He hated it, his suit was sticking to his skin and he was starting to feel the wetness and cold penetrate his bones. He could not hold back a shiver.

Suddenly he saw a green light enveloping him from head to toe.

Little by little the feeling of cold and dampness disappeared and was replaced by a feeling of warmth and comfort. He was now dry.

He looked up to see Loki coming towards him, as a last green swirl faded from his hands.

Loki stopped in front of him, "I have a feeling that this mission was a pain in the ass, right?"

Mobius replied, "You know my love of rain."

Then he stopped, waved his hand to show himself, and added, "Thanks for that."

Mobius was always pleasantly surprised by Loki's little attention, but even more so by the fact that it showed how well he knew and cared about Mobius.

Unfortunately they were in one of the most crowded hallways of the TVA so Mobius couldn't show his appreciation as he would have if they were in the privacy of their apartment. However, he couldn't help but touch Loki and put his hand on his arm, squeezing lightly and said again in a gentle tone, "Thank you, really."

Loki replied with the same smile by simply nodding and placing his hand on Mobius’ hand, he said gently, "My pleasure, for you, always."

Mobius was staring at the papers in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was about to do something, to write something, but he couldn't remember.

"Mobius? Since when do you bring home work."

Loki's voice as he entered their living room pulled Mobius from his thoughts. He blinked his eyes. "I have to finish this, and I'd rather finish it here." He mumbled, his voice hoarser than usual.

Loki said to him in a slightly annoyed tone, "Did you hear your raspy voice? Did you see your face? You better get some rest."

"I absolutely must finish this."

"Really? When you seem to be having trouble even keeping your eyes open?", Loki insisted.

"I'm fine," Mobius replied.

Exasperation was now evident in Loki's voice, "Only you believe it. Even your colleagues have noticed!"

"I'm fine!"

"Mobius," Loki sighed.

"I'm fine," Mobius repeated. "Just let me fin-..."

A coughing fit interrupted him. He coughed so hard it felt like his lungs were being torn apart.

"That's enough," Loki said in a voice that had no return.

Loki took his file out of his hands, grabbed Mobius' hands, made him stand up and pulled him behind him.

"Hey! Loki!"

Loki ignored him and pulled him towards their room.

"Loki!" Mobius coughed violently again. He felt exhausted all of a sudden and feeling himself spinning, he clung to Loki's hand.

"Mobius, you're burning up!" exclaimed Loki in a panicked tone.

Mobius shivered, as if to confirm what Loki had just noticed. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, and warm."

Loki carefully sat him down on their bed. "The important thing is to get your love fever down, okay?"

He helped him put on his pajamas with gentle touches and carefully laid him down under the blanket.

Mobius' eyes were still open and he suddenly saw Loki in his Jotun form.

"Loki? Did you just transform or am I having a gorgeous hallucination."

Loki chuckled affectionately, "Oh love, only you would call me a gorgeous hallucination when I have this form. But no, it's real. Do you trust me?"

"Even with a raging fever, yes and even unconditionally."

Loki smiled again, and went to join him. He laid behind Mobius, and wrapped his arms around him, without putting too much strength into it, and put one of his cool hands on his forehead.

Mobius breathed a sigh of relief, "Ahhh that feels good. Thank you my love." then he felt himself being swept away by exhaustion, only aware of the cool sensation around him

He woke up a few hours later, much better than before. Loki was still wrapped around him. He turned around and noticed that Loki had returned to his normal appearance.

"You've joined the living world?" asked Loki with a smile.

"Thanks to you," Mobius replied in a still hoarse voice, running a finger over Loki's face before continuing, " No longer blue?"

Loki was surprised at Mobius' almost disappointed expression. He was still a little unsettled by the fact that Mobius loved his Jotun appearance as much as his current one.

"The fever has dropped enough."

Mobius moved a little closer and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"Thank you for having taken care of me, Sweetheart."

Loki put a kiss on his nose before replying, "I assure you that the pleasure was all mine love."

Mobius dreamed of Ravonna, of her face at the moment she said, "Prune him" without hesitation and he disappeared.

That's when he woke up as he often does, sweating and gasping for breath. He ran his hands over his body, just to make sure he was there and alive. His chest ached under the rapid beating of his heart.

Mobius, still in his nightmare, struggled at first against Loki's comforting hands and warm voice, unable to calm his breathing that threatened to cause panic. He made a move to escape, but Loki's fingers caught his wrist before he could go anywhere.

Once Mobius let go, Loki brought their heads together, cradling him, their noses almost touching until Mobius' breathing slowly returned to normal

Mobius kept repeating, "I don't want to disappear, I want to live." and Loki would nod and whisper words of comfort and reassurance in return.

After a few minutes, Loki asked softly, "Mobius, do you want me to erase these images from your mind? I wouldn't erase the memory, only the residue of your nightmare."

Mobius tightened his arms around Loki and nodded, "Yes... please..."

He put his fingers on Mobius' temple and closed his eyes, concentrating on the images he was sending into Mobius' mind, images of beaches, jet skis, sun and warmth.

Then Loki squeezed him and Mobius buried his head further into Loki's chest and, in a hushed tone, he heard Loki suggest that he concentrate on the slow, loud sound of his heartbeat.

Mobius let himself be lulled by the soft beat as Loki's hands now caressed his hair. He vaguely heard Loki's voice whisper something, "It only beats for you."

Before he could respond, sleep claimed him, and this time filled with dreams of warmth and love

"Oh Mobius, you're bleeding," Loki said, taking a deep breath as the wizard entered the living room. It was late at night, Mobius had been on a mission that had lasted much longer than expected.

Loki approached him, "Let me see."

Mobius turned away and protested, "No, I'm going to put on a little bandage in the bathroom and I'll be fine.."

Loki replied, "Don't be stupid, let me take care of you before you spill your blood all over the apartment."

"What a drama queen!"

"Hey!"

Mobius, obediently sat down on the couch. With calm and sure hands, Loki carefully turned Mobius' arms from side to side and was relieved to find only a superficial cut. A moment later, he returned with compresses, disinfectant and a bandage.

Sitting down next to Mobius, he took the arm in one hand and began to clean the cut with the disinfectant.

Mobius hummed at the relief the treatment brought him, after enduring the rubbing of his shirt all day. He closed his eyes under the pleasant sensation.

"My poor love," Loki said in a low voice, "does it hurt?"

"I've had worse," Mobius replied. He heard Loki soak another compress, then felt it on his arm again, Loki methodically cleaning the cut again.

"I know that, but that doesn't mean you don't have the right to talk about your pain."

A moment later, Mobius felt Loki's fingers on his face, his thumb gently caressing his cheek. His lover's face was so close that he could feel his breath on his lips.

As his fingers left his face, Mobius opened his eyes again.

He watched as Loki grabbed the bandage and began to wrap it around his arm. When he finished, Loki set everything aside on the coffee table and pulled Mobius with him to the couch.

They sat in silence for a while, one against the other with Mobius' injured arm around Loki's shoulders after Loki made sure it didn't hurt.

"Do you know what my mother used to do when I got hurt as a child?" he asked Mobius, and without waiting for an answer continued, "she would kiss on my wound and tell me it would help the healing."

Mobius could hear the tender, wistful tone as he did every time Loki spoke of his mother.

"My wound is well treated now, but I wouldn't mind a kiss." replied Mobius with a teasing tone.

"You know I would do anything to make you feel better, my love." With that Loki turned to him, "Let me kiss it better." Then he leaned over Mobius and kissed him gently.

And not surprisingly, Mobius felt much better.

_______

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#lokius fic #lokius #loki #loki series #mobius m. mobius #moki #wowki #time husbands #timefrost #jotun Loki #Magic #caring #5 + 1 things

49 notes · View notes

flameohotwife · 3 years ago

Note

18 for fluff prompts!!!

18. “you come here often?” “Well considering I work here, yes.” From this prompt list.

Rated T-ish. 1.2k words.

Aang stumbled into the clinic. He was covered in blood, holding a torn piece of robes to a wound on the back of his head, and being supported by a few Republic City residents.

“Tui and La, what happened?!” demanded the woman behind the desk as she scurried out to help him back to a room with an examination table. Her dark hair was peppered with white and her loopies flew around her as she gathered the necessary supplies.

“He was holdin’ up a bridge that collapsed with some kids crossin’ it. They just made it over when some rocks came down the mountain and caught ‘im in the head,” explained an older gentleman who was missing several of his front teeth. He held his hand next to his mouth in an effort to prevent the Avatar from hearing what he said next. “Passed out a minute. Not sure he knows entirely who he is right now…”

“Okay, thank you, sir,” the woman replied, taking the man’s hand and squeezing it gratefully. “I’ll take it from here.” The villagers slowly filed out of the clinic, confidently leaving the Avatar in the care of the great Master Katara.

“You’re getting too old for this, Sweetie,” she mumbled as she took the cloth from his hand to examine his head, wincing as she saw how bad it was. She could already tell there would be some fractures to heal, and that he had indeed suffered a concussion.

“You’re pretty,” Aang uttered, wobbling slightly as he sat on the table. “You come here often?”

“Well considering I work here, yes.” Katara bit back a smile as she worked. She knew from unfortunately frequent experience with Aang’s concussions that he always got extra flirtatious with her in this state, but he had never acted this way in the few times other healers had treated him. He always seemed to know—even when he was as addled as he was—who held his heart. “But right now you need to lay on your front and let me heal your head.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, a little too eagerly. He almost fell off the table as he tried to add a little airbending flourish to his movements, grossly miscalculating the distance and angle he needed to move his body properly onto the flat surface. Katara couldn’t help the giggle that escaped at his antics. Even well into his fifties and without knowing who she was, he still felt the need to show off for her.

“Easy, there, Avatar,” she chided. “You have quite the injury.”

“Sorry… What was your name?”

She grinned freely now that he couldn’t see her face. “Master Katara,” she responded, taking great effort to keep her voice even. She knew what he was going to say next before he even opened his mouth. He said it every time.

“Master Katara… Katara… Wow,” he sighed. “Your name is almost as beautiful as you!”

She slowly moved the water over his injury, hearing him sigh and gasp at different intervals as things healed or tightened. “Are you always such a flirt, Avatar?”

“I… Uh… I’m sorry…” he stammered. She could see the blush spreading down his neck. “I’m definitely not usually a ‘flirt.’ I don’t know what came over me…”

“Hmmmm,” she hummed in response. “Must be the head injury, then.” She worked carefully, making sure not to re-open old wounds as she went. The benefit to being the Avatar’s wife and primary healer was that she knew the location and severity of every injury he’d ever sustained in the last four decades. By this point in her life she’d assumed seeing her husband bloody but alive wouldn’t scare her nearly as much as it did, but despite the fact that she’d been able to get her hands to stop shaking so that she could work, her heart was still pounding.

Finally she was nearly done with his head, and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. “I’ll have you know your flirting paid off, Avatar,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re married.”

He tried to get up and look at her but she gently shoved him back down. “Married?! Noooo. I would remember marrying someone as amazing as you.” He paused a moment, enjoying the feel of her hands healing his wounds. “Your hands are magical.”

“Ha! Yes, they are, aren’t they? Don’t worry, you’ll remember,” she grinned. With as many times as she’d done this over the years, she knew he was moments away from revelation. The bone on the back of his skull was good as new, and she was just finishing up with the swelling underneath that was causing the memory loss.

“Remember… remember… Oh, no not again.”

“Welcome back, Sweetie.” Katara crouched down beside the table to look into his grey eyes, lined as they were with wrinkles but still just as bright as the day she’d broken him out of the iceberg. She checked to make sure his pupil dilation was back to normal before placing a soft kiss on his dry lips. “I already told you but I know you don’t remember; you really are getting too old for this.”

“Nonsense,” Aang waved her off, trying again to sit up.

“Not so fast,” Katara scolded, helping him move slowly. “You’re still really hurt. I healed the concussion and the fracture but there’s still work to do.” She resumed her healing position, looking for any more cuts and scrapes and internal bleeding.

“I don’t know how many times I can knit your skull back together, Sweetie,” she said sometime later, when she was sure she’d gotten the worst of it. “You’re not young anymore.”

“I know. Thank you, Katara.” He reached out his hand and she took it gratefully.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “You’re still covered in blood. Want to try out the new water-showers Sokka installed in here for the patients?”

“Hmmmm, I don’t know,” he thought for a moment before smiling deviously, pulling her close to him. “I might still be a little wobbly. I probably need you to come with me if I do anything like that. You know, so I don’t fall down and hit my head again.” He ran his hands down her curves and leaned down to kiss her neck.

“Aang,” Katara laughed. “I’m working!”

“So work,” he insisted, pulling her into the attached bathroom. “Keep your patient from further injury as he bathes.” He shut the door behind them. “Don’t let me stop you.” He undid the ties on the front of her dress before she could even think to protest.

“I love you,” she said, before leaning up to kiss his pulse-point, feeling how he was still alive—still here, and falling further into the trap he’d set. She felt his body respond, and pushed his bloody robes from his shoulders, pulling the lever that sent hot water through the pipes. As it began coursing through the shower head, she appreciated that Aang still had so much life coursing through him. That after every brush with death he’d had that set her heart into a panic, he always reassured her with his touch; his love.

“I love you, too,” he sighed, pulling her fully under the water with him and capturing her lips with his once more.

They stole those moments for themselves, to remember that while life is sacred, life is fleeting. That life is worth living, especially with the one you love. And if the other healers heard giggles and… other sounds… coming from the shower that day, nobody ever mentioned it.

#kataang #kataang ficlet #katara #aang #atla #sweet sweeties #ficlet prompts #kataangtag #SORRY THEY KEEP GETTING INJURED TODAY #Also may have taken inspiration from your own memory-loss ficlet Peaches #itsmoonpeaches #asks

30 notes · View notes

circuscarnage · 4 years ago

Text

Birthday Escapade.

A Malleus Draconia and reader birthday fic.

Words: 2488.

Coloured banners were strung up on the walls, decorating the Diasomnia dorm in an almost welcoming glow. Black and green lines of fabric, embroidered with the inviting message of celebration. What had once been a room of polite gathering, had transformed into a much liver scene. Purple vines stuck out from the ground, acting more as decoration to the party, mimicking the witches of thorns power. Tables covered with delectable food as far as the eye could see. Edible works of art displayed for anyone to reach out and take. The most lavished of cakes being saved for the main table. The centrepiece of the room, almost impossible to miss, was a black sign coated in thorns, spindling a twisted birthday wish. Lilia had wasted no expense making sure everything was perfect. He had planned the entire thing. After all, this wasn't just anyone's birthday. It certainly was a change of pace for the normally dark and dreary castle.

The entire Diasomnia dorm seemed more colourful than usual, and not just aesthetic wise. The sombre atmosphere was lifted with the sounds of delightful laughter and idle celebration. Students of the dorm gathered in the main foyer, enjoying themselves as they chatted away to their fellow classmates without a care in the world. However, the most important aspect of this celebration was missing.

Malleus Draconia was no where to be found.

His guards, Sebek and Silver, had been scouting the dorm trying to find their lost master. They had checked down every hallway and searched all the rooms. Not a single stone was left unturned nor a speck of dust lingered in the process. They were at their wits end. Sebek's voice boomed throughout the dorm, ricocheting off the stone castle walls. Malleus's name sounded akin to thunder as it stormed every inch of the perimeter. It was uncertain which would give out first. His voice or the other students eardrums.

You, however, knew better than to waste time on searching Diasomnia. If Malleus had fled, there was no way he would stick to the confines of the dorm. That was just too simple. Begrudgingly you left the Diasomnia dorm and headed back towards the hall of mirrors. When thinking of a safe heaven, there was only one place that came to mind. You knew exactly where he would be.

Ramshackle. It was very different compared to the other dorms. A shabby and old building that was as creepy as it was comforting. An uneven fence carved from iron surrounded the perimeter, acting more like a cage, warning those who pass by not to trespass. The vacant space and lack of activity made people wonder if it was simply just unfinished or abandoned. It certainly looked run down, even more so before Azul had it refurbished to extend his business. Luckily for you, that plan never came to fruition, so you could keep the haunted mansion you called home.

As you approached, you could see the last remnants of winter still holding onto the Ramshackle dorm. Snow melted into the ground, slowly decaying into the soil as the seasons begin to change. The sugar coated season sluggishly torn away to be replaced with another. It wasn't hard to miss him. His raven black hair and pointed horns stuck out among the crisp white scenery. He stood against the decaying tree, leaning into the wood as if he was trying to merge himself into the plant. He was looking across the garden, but turned his head around when hearing your approach. "Ah, human." He greeted you casually, giving an affirmative nod of his head. "To what honour do I owe you this visit?"

"Where have you been?" You questioned him, finally making your way up the steps and standing in front of him. He seemed taken aback at your forceful question. Why, he had just greeted you with a polite hello and you were already interrogating him. "The party has already started, and you're not even there!"

Malleus quirked his head to the side. "Oh, was that today?" There was something different about his voice. The way his words lingered in the air, laced with a playful tone that spelled mischief. You looked down at his attire. Black dress shirt with a white suit jacket over the top. Black and green sash. There was no way he dressed up like that on a whim. This surely couldn't have been a coincidence. Malleus noticed your stare, lingering on his outfit for a little longer than necessary. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Please don't tell me someone forgot to invite you to your own birthday." You hated to think he was acting like this because of some kind of petty vendetta against you. It wasn't anything new that people often forgot to invite him to events, whether that be the dorm leader meeting or social gatherings, but his own birthday? That must have cut deep.

Malleus chuckled. "Fuhuhuhu. That would be quite entertaining, wouldn't it? Forgetting to invite me to my own birthday. How quaint." He waved his hand. "No, I received an invite. I was even enjoying myself. And I appreciate how much effort Lilia put into the décor. I've just never been the one to enjoy these types of parties. It just feels so... Strange." Malleus looked down at his attire, emerald eyes observing the trinkets that decorated the white jacket. The handmade broach that resembled the curved horns that stuck out from his head. The black and green coloured badge that all to obviously drew attention to the date. Reminding everyone within a mile radius just who the special birthday boy was. He was used to being adored in lavished clothing, being of royal decent, so having an outfit that was traditional for many others was relieving.

"The concept of birthdays... Forgive me but I've never embraced them fully, never needed to." You gave Malleus a quizzitive look, tilting your head a little to the side, imploring him to elaborate. He understood your plight and began to explain. "Compared to humans, fae live for an unnaturally long time. Our lifespans far surpass your own. Why, generations from now I'll still be alive. Wise with time and knowledge. Watching over the world behind the thicket of thorns. And you'll-" He stopped mid sentence. There was no need to continue. You both knew where you would be generations from now. Malleus blinked, the slightest glint of sadness present in his eyes. Possessing the power of longevity was something that many craved to have, but needless to say it did come with its consequences. The burden weighed on the back of his mind like an oncoming storm.

Malleus cleared his throat, "Very strange indeed. You humans celebrate yearly the date of your birth, yet to us fae it is nothing more than a number. Even though I wish I could feel the same connection to it that you do. Maybe then I wouldn't feel such like an outcast..." Malleus blinked as he felt something touch his head. Unconsciously his hand had reached up towards his horns, bringing attention one of the many aspects about him that was different to humans. He was proud of his fae heritage, but always felt like it held him back when trying to forge connections. "Tell me, human." He brought his hand back down. "Am I forever cursed to be an outcast from a gathering? Even one of my own terms? I'm always one to be vacant, not on my own accord. My invitation being left blank while others have been sealed. So forgive my absence when for once I'm expected to be there."

"Tsunotarou-" You had to stop yourself, almost biting down on your tongue. Now possessing the knowledge of his name, it seemed needless to try and use the old nickname you gave him. It was sentimental, in a way. A name that only you could call him. A name made up on the spot yet seemed to fit a little too well. It always made your heart flutter whenever you used it. The way Malleus's eyes would light up in amusement, entertained by the fact anyone would ever consider calling him something so simple. Sometimes it was hard to conceal the corners of his mouth twinging upward in delight. You apologised and corrected yourself, "I mean, Malleus." It was an easy mistake to make. The way his actual name slipped off your tongue somehow sounded wrong. You had gotten a little too comfortable with that nickname. You hoped Malleus wouldn't mind.

To your surprise, Malleus grinned. A slight chuckle slipped between his lips. He was more taken aback by the fact that had felt the need to correct yourself then the use of his nickname. He was aware of your caution, and reassured you. "You may address me however you wish, child of man." Malleus turned his head to the side, looking off into the distance, and placed an hand thoughtfully on his chin. "I must admit, I have grown quite fond of that little nickname you call me. I do not mind being called that name," His attention was brought back to you, dazzling green eyes locking with your own. He huffed out a small laugh. "If you are the one to address me, that is."

You nodded your head, secretly gracious that he was allowing you to continue using that name. But you needed to address his previous statement. "It's understandable that you would feel this way. Being ostracized from a group can be quite intimidating." You sighed. "Trust me, I've been there. And sometimes it feels like you'll never truly belong." Malleus raised his brow. Were you trying to help him feel better or worse?

"But believe me when I say that the people there want you to be there too. They want you to enjoy yourself just as they have. And..." Your words trailed off. Your own voice getting quieter and quieter until even you couldn't hear it anymore. Words did not fail you at that moment. It was clear what you wanted to say. Whether or not you had the strength to say it was a different matter. Your eyes were in agreement, preferring to look at the ground below you rather than the person in front. Was it really that difficult to show your own emotions? You did genuinely enjoy your time together, and wanted it to last longer. Yet somehow whenever you tried to express this fact to him, something always stopped you. A defence mechanism that instinctively held you back. You looked back at Malleus. He stood still, patiently waiting for you to continue. You were thankful for his tolerance. Giving a curt nod of your head, you took a deep breath in, and exhaled. "...I want you to be there. I want you to be happy, on your special day."

You braced yourself, ready for any sort of negative response. But as you waited in anticipation for a verbal reply, Malleus gave none. Instead he began to laugh. A slight chuckle that started out as a growl, but then gradually grew into a light laugh. He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying to cover it up, but he would have to try harder than that to stifle this laugh. You were confused. Was it something you said? Did it sound condescending? Needy? Selfish? That wasn't your intention at all! You just wanted to give him some reassurance.

His laughter eventually died down, allowing him to breathe steadily again. "Child of man, how presumptuous of you." A light titter escaped from his lips again. Whatever he had found entertaining about your statement, he clearly wasn't done. You furrowed your brow in suspicion as Malleus calmed himself yet again. "I do not need a celebration or to be surrounded by guests to be happy." He took another step closer, towering over you like a gargoyle, but it was not intimidating. The soft look on his face quelled any fears of threatening nature. It was actually quite surprising how peaceful he looked. "With you, I already am."

You had to turn your head away at that, letting out a small squeak that sounded more attune to a quack. Hearing such a genuine sentiment from him felt like wildfire had struck your heart, and it felt like it wasn't going to subside anytime soon. It was wishful thinking, but you hoped you didn't make your answer too evident. However, giving such an obvious expression meant it was easy for him to pick up. Malleus smirked at your reaction. Instinctively he placed his hand upon your head, smoothing his thumb gently over the grooves in your hair. He thought it was cute. Like a docile pet receiving praise.

You waved his hand off of you, not needing to feel anything more at the moment. You had wasted enough time standing here. It would be best to return the birthday boy back to his dorm. "I think we had better get back, your guards are in a frenzy over your disappearance." Malleus let out a small sigh. It was time to return to the party. After all, he wouldn't be considered a very good host if he was missing for the entire event. How else was he suppose to show he was worthy of peoples trust if he did not throw a good party? He was ready to return to the dorm, with you accompanying him. "Yes, I think I've troubled them for long enough."

You laughed, thinking about Sebek and Silver stumbling over themselves trying to find their dorm leader. Lilia wouldn't be too bothered, you thought, if you returned Malleus in time for his celebration. Turning around on your heels, you lead the way back towards the gate, eager to return to the party. At last, you could finally have a piece of that delectable looking cake. It had been on your mind the second you stepped into the dorm.

Before you could place a hand on the gate, Malleus called from behind. "And human?" You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. He stood still, refusing to move unless he spoke. His face bore the same amused express, but this time it was different. It was gentle. His eyes holding nothing but appreciation for the human that stood before him. Someone who didn't see him as the terrifying figurehead of the Draconia family that so many made him out to be. Someone who wasn't afraid around him. Someone he was very thankful to have met. "Thank you, for seeking me out." He stepped forward, now walking by your side. It felt good for him to have someone beside him that didn't cower in fear nor turn away in intimidation. It made him feel accepted. "And for escorting me back."

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #diasomnia #twst writing #writing #this was supposed to be much shorter but I started writing and couldn't stop #also Hi Aya #hope you see the little reference I did for you

74 notes · View notes

bubblyani · 4 years ago

Text

Bail Out : 08

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 08: Dinner Date

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 11k +

Rating: Mature (18+)

Warnings: Swearing and Sexual Content

Author’s Note: This took a while, but when you read it, you will definitely understand why. Plus, I wasn’t feeling well for a few days so needed some well deserved rest. But yay! New Chapter is here! Enjoy y’all!

CHAPTER LIST

Shades of blue dissolved in to gray, providing the entire apartment with a brand new filter at dawn. And it barely was noticeable to you. It would be when being in the comfort of his arms seemed far more important.

Breaths in perfect syncopation, both of you found one selves recovering slowly. Heartbeats may return to the normal pace, but the pleasure received was successfully engraved in every cell of your being. The intense pleasure experienced a few seconds prior. As the foreheads remained pressed together, a thin layer of delicious sweat lubricated each other’s skin. Whose ended where? It did not matter.

Slowly bending down forward, Bruce certainly was surprising as his head rested on your right shoulder, brushing his lips over your neck, placing tender kisses on the spots deemed most sensitive. Gentle gasps were inevitable for you to release, followed by soft moans as his lips did not fail to have an intense effect on you. With your hands grazing over his shoulder blades through his suit, you wondered if his eyes had caught the sight of the faded strangle marks. Perhaps not, with the morning lights yet at its infancy. Yet, it appeared he did, for his lips comforted them, and soothed them like a healing balm.

Never did you imagine your first time with Bruce Wayne to be this unexpected and messy. For making love to a man such as he would purely entail luxury. Undressing each other from the finest attire, diving into the snow white sheets of exorbitant price, overlooking the glittering Gotham skyline. But here you were, legs locked around his frame, perched on the dinner table in the early morning at your humble abode. It truly was life. However, the reality did not obstruct the wonderment and pleasure that was received regardless. In fact, it was equally meaningful. Sheer desperation transformed into extreme desire, and pent up for longer than it should. And this morning was certainly a testament to that. Something so uncontrollable.

Grabbing the panties that hung from your left foot, you quickly slid off the table when Bruce moved away. You suddenly felt shyness returning to you as you pulled the panties back up. Looking up, you felt the atmosphere had changed when you noticed he was far from being pleased whilst buckling up his pants. It worried you. Paranoia suddenly pushed the shyness away.

“Hey…”

You whispered, placing your hand on his shoulder, “ Do you regret it?”

“No!” His reply was instant, “It’s just…” he paused, looking down “I should have-I could have-”

Looking right where he looked, you came to the realization of his words. With the lovemaking being intense and passionate, it was no surprise how his gracious release of passion ended up inside of you without prior warning. The fact that made him worry touched you so.

“Bruce…” you chuckled, rubbing his forearms with comfort, “I’m on the pill…don't worry…” you assured, smiling, “I’m a big girl, Bruce. I know how it goes”

That assurance did not seem convincing enough for him. With his eyes still glued to the ground, his aura exuded remorse. As if he had caused you betrayal. You could not be more touched, for this man was pure at the unexpected of situations.

“Come on…” you said, lightly punching him on his strong forearm, “You’re Bruce Wayne…” you added encouragingly, as he looked at you, “Billionaire Playboy…” gusto brimmed in your soft voice as you patted him on the chest, “Just…think of this as one of those adventurous one night stands-”

Except his hand held on to your hand, keeping it over his chest. His eyes, they shone of pure longing, looking beautiful even under the gray light as they looked at you:

“It’s not the same” He breathed low.

Your rib cage suddenly was short of space when you felt your heart expand twice its size. Pulling you to him, Bruce wrapped his strong arms around you, making it quite convenient for you to gaze into those orbs. Truthfully, you need not much convincing. His eyes truly had become the most entrancing sight to indulge besides the morning sky in the blue hour. His gaze on you brought forth comfort, similar to a small fireplace on a winter’s day. Your eyelids grew heavy with intoxication, smiling as a result when he blessed you with kisses on your quivering lips. They were tender kisses of love and assurance, all before sealing it with a tight embrace. With a deep exhale, you felt it. You felt the expanded heart of yours, prepared by all means necessary, to store and treasure that overwhelming emotion you possessed for him.

So it seemed he certainly did not regret it. And you were more than relieved.

“You want some coffee?” You inquired in a muffled tone to his chest, the moment his grip loosened. Smiling at him, you headed to the kitchen pantry, “We all need a little wake-me-up before work”

“I thought I already got you one” Bruce replied teasingly. His playful expression suggested what you could guess. It was quite evident given his low, sensual tone. Suppressing a smile, you did not know whether to be amused or be aroused all over again. But eventually, you succumbed to quiet laughter. Seeing his reciprocative smile lit your spirits, the manner in which his teeth was displayed, the manner in which his cheekbones were highlighted. It was a sight so fulfilling.

Following a sudden vibrating noise, Bruce took his phone out. “Do you mind if-?” He inquired politely, motioning towards the television. You nodded. Whilst you occupied yourself fixing up your morning caffeine, Bruce stood watching the morning news. When Ted Hawthorne appeared in the screen with a swarm of reporters, you were compelled to watch as well. Especially when the title of the news segment read:

Wayne vs. Henderson Intellectual Property Breach: Wayne proved innocent

Taking a sip of the newly made hot coffee, you watched as your colleague began to address the crowd:

“In order prove our innocence, Mr. Wayne was more than prepared to go the farthest distance possible. And safe to say, he succeeded. For we at Wayne Enterprises had nothing to hide”

“Wait a minute” you breathed, walking over to Bruce, “…if this was filmed this morning, that means…were the press following you?” You inquired worriedly, pointing at the screen. Bruce shook his head.

“I went out through a different exit” “But your car…” you said, eyes widening before peeping through the window, “they can trace you back here…can’t they?” Turning back to him, you were surprised to see him so unaffected. He smiled: “I borrowed Ted’s car” “But how will he-” “He borrowed mine in return…” finishing the sentence, he managed to reassure you. As if he knew what was coming. Sighing heavily with relief, you smiled.

“The Lamborghini? Lucky Ted…” you chuckled, taking another sip as you watched your colleague confidently answer more questions. However, you almost spat on your drink the moment Erik Henderson appeared. Standing in front of his grand mansion, he was as ill tempered as he normally was, possibly growing more enraged as the journalists threw questions his way. With his own shame swallowing him whole, he allowed his own lawyer to handle the press as he stormed into his home, with the title reading:

Henderson left with no comments after much strong accusations

Turning off the TV, Bruce caught your attention as he stared at you for a few seconds. Feeling his eyes wash over you, it was evident he was in deep thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You inquired, to which he smiled softy. With hands dug into the trouser pockets, Bruce Wayne was certainly appetizing, intensified especially with his loosened tie and messy hair.

“Why don’t we go out?”

He inquired, walking towards you, “Have dinner with me”

It was no request, it was a plea, brimming with affection. You chuckled. “But we did already…once ” you said, heading towards the the counter, “Remember the Company Dinner?”

This time, it was Bruce who chuckled. “No…” he stressed softly, “I mean…just the two of us” indicating his eagerness. As much as you found it quite adorable, reality struck you like lightning. Putting the coffee mug on the counter, you sighed.

“No…Won’t be right” you said, as you stared at the overhead cupboard. You could feel Bruce looking at you with disbelief. “Why are you-” “I don’t want people to think… that you’re dating the current Acting Head of HR.” You stated, turning to him with seriousness. Yes, you were blunt and very truthful. But it was the right thing to do. With confidence, he took one step towards you.

“Who cares?” He inquired. And truthfully, he meant every word, you could tell.

“I care…” you answered steadily. Were you being selfish? You were certain you were not, “Why?…Because it’s going to change people’s minds about you” taking a deep breath, you continued, “No matter how you may have acted before, being the typical rich playboy, people here in your company…” you smiled, “…they actually like you very much” you added, “Most of them say you even remind them of your father, who I wish I knew”

“He would have loved to meet you…” Bruce said softly, “…my mother too”

You were quite convinced how one really does not need rich words to stir the heart, for his words did. The very thought of a world where he lived happy, with his parents alive and well, was definitely something you would have loved for him. If you could have given it to him , you would have. Even if it meant a future where the two of you will never be together. Stifling the need to cry your heart out, you smiled.

“So what I’m saying is…” you paused, “…you shouldn’t break anyone’s trust right now…” you said, “You’re too good for that” you said, patting his shoulder with a smile, “besides… its gonna take a while for the company to recover from the heat I caused”, to which he suddenly started to chuckle.

“What ?” You asked playfully. Stopping his chuckle, he tilted his head: “You’re too good, you know.” He said affectionately, pulling you into his arms once again, “And to think you had the audacity to punch Henderson” You gasped. “How dare y-” Chuckles erupted out of you when Bruce Wayne attacked you with a passionate kiss. Amazing how his taste overpowered the coffee in your tongue. And in truth, you did not mind at all. In fact, his kiss energized you more than realized. Pulling away slowly, you cupped his face.

“I want whats best for us, Bruce…” you breathed, gazing into his eyes, “For the moment….this needs to be a low-key matter…” you insisted. Smiling sadly, you sighed, “I’m sorry being with me is so difficul-”

“It’s not…”

He answered faster than expected. It was not a simple matter. You knew. You just cared for him. And you cared for yourself as well. However, to have a man of power to show such genuine enthusiasm, you could not help but be moved. He certainly deserved something in return.

“I’ll have dinner with you” You said, to which his eyes lit up softly.

“You will?” He inquired. You nodded, your hands still caressing his face.

“Yes…” you agreed, “but… under one condition…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“COOKING FOR HIM?? SERIOUSLY?”

Allison Hughs could not be more surprised, nor more disappointed in you that. You did not answer, but merely resumed stirring the frying pan with focus.

“You’re now dating the most eligible bachelor in Gotham…” Your roommate began, “ and your idea of a date is a home cooked dinner?”

“In the Wayne Penthouse, mind you” you said, pointing at her with the big wooden spoon, before you turned off the stove.

Soon after Bruce left, Allison arrived home from a party. Thus, the sight of her roommate frantically wiping the side of the table with disinfectant, certainly left her with many questions. To your surprise, Allison could not help but squeal with excitement upon what she heard. And of course the laughter followed with her amusement over your cleanliness concern.

“Okay let’s say you DO cook for him…” Allison said, as you served some fresh scrambled eggs onto her plate, “But…” she paused, putting a piece of egg into her mouth, “…you’re gonna end up all sweaty and unpleasant”

“Gee! Thanks, Ali ,..” you chuckled in an ironical tone, “Nah!!…” you shook your head, “You see…I got it all figured out” you declared with confidence, sitting down with the rest of the eggs, “I’ll be cooking in my sweats…but will have dinner in something less homeless…Argh!” groaning all the sudden, you covered your face, “What IS considered appropriate lingerie for a date with a billionaire?” you inquired, looking up as you pondered.

“That shouldn’t matter when you had sex with him already”

Allison chimed in with a naughty smile. Covering your face once more, You were forced to listen to your roommate’s evil cackle, even forced to groan with frustration when she proceeded to imitate cheap pornographic music in the background.

“Oh man…I did..” you giggled eventually, “and my pj’s too...so embarrassing. I felt like a freakin teenager” you added, shaking your head.

“But wasn’t it….good?”

Allison’s sudden innocent query made you look at her. For finally, it forced you to realize what exactly was important to you. You chuckled.

“It was….great” you breathed dreamily, the passionate encounter involuntarily flashing through your head. You could recall the passion, the devotion and the pleasure. Sighing heavily, you smiled like an idiot, “ I honestly can…” chuckling, you continued, “I honestly can get myself off just thinking about it” you whispered it with guilt. But it was a vital guilt.

“AAAAAAND she’s BAAAACK!!!”

With a thundering clap, Allison cried out in a celebratory tone, “ Oh man! I missed that dirty mouth of yours” she said, bringing out loud laughter from you as you served yourself the scrambled eggs, “I couldn’t believe you actually said…” pausing she began to imitate you: “Ali could you stop saying the S-word?” Causing you to laugh even louder.

“I can’t believe…” you groaned, looking down as you began to eat.

The scrambled eggs appeared brighter in yellow, and its texture, it seemed fluffier. More importantly, it was incredibly delicious today. And you knew why. You were teased to the point of blushing, yet you weren’t seemed to be as affected as you expected. And you indeed knew why. You were in love. And you never had been happier. Never had you felt this liberated in ages. Truthfully not all dilemmas were solved, and you had not relinquished your moral principles. However at least one was solved, and thus, a comforting thought lingered in you. The thought that somewhere in Gotham, there finally was someone willing to go so far to care for you, and to even patiently wait for you. Amidst all the storms that may pass by. Eventually, all must be solved. Until then, you decided to indulge.

Indulge the fact you could still love.

And it showed. In everything that you did. Every type of love song seemed to play wherever you set foot inside.Your smile grew wider, your cheer behavior amplified, your enthusiasm for life clearly visible. A newly bloomed version of you managed to parade around the HR Department, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Don’t know whats going on, Boss, but loving it!”

Greg said, showing his classic two thumbs up as he dropped by your office once. Smiling, you were filled with immense gratitude for colleagues like him and Paula providing you the support so clearly needed during Lillians absence. Turning towards the desk calendar, you heart skipped a beat in sheer willingness when you happened to glance upon handwritten remark over the following day in red:

Date Night!!!

Biting your lip, you knew you would wake up tomorrow with the largest bunch of butterflies. For just as any other woman, you were excited to go on that wonderful date.

However, before that, you had equally important business to attend to. Somewhere over at Gotham PD.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Given the unexpected, yet friendly smiles of most Police Officers in the buzzing precinct, it was unclear whether to feel a sense of relief or utter confusion as John Blake ushered you to his desk. “Hope you didn’t mind me coming at lunch time...” You said, voice laced with concern whilst sitting down, “I just couldn’t find the time...” “Nah! I get it...” Blake replied, with a subtle smile, “I can’t imagine a woman like you breaking the law...except for that one time, of course” he chuckled. “Guilty...” you joked with a full smile. “OH MY GOD!” You jumped in your seat upon hearing a loud excited voice across the hall. That voice belonged to a police officer with a sturdy build, who came walking over to Blake’s table. His name tag titled “Ramirez”. And his face could certainly be titled “Excited” “It’s the Bruiser” He said, loud enough for the unaware to finally notice. “Dave, come on…” Blake muttered shyly, looking at his colleague with a serious look. “Oh! Sorry sorry…” whispering guiltily, Dave Ramirez looked back at you, forgetting his apology as he kept staring at you with wide eyes. Only then you finally realized he was far from mocking you. “Big fan! Ma’am” he said softly, with a fanboy demeanor “…that Henderson really had it coming to him” he said, while Blake covered his face with embarrassment, “I mean did you see that bullshittery he pulled at Gotham General? What Donation? He just gave a speech…that’s all! ” he said angrily, shaking his head, “A real asshole...” “Well I-” “Hey! Do you know the Batman?” Excitement growing in tenfolds, Dave’s eyes shone brightly with his query. “Dave! Chill man...” Blake said, pushing him away playfully, “…and is bullshittery even a word?” Chuckling softly, Blake looked down as Ramirez waved at you from the other side. “Is he by chance an admin in ‘Where’s the Bat. com?’” Through gritted teeth, you inquired, subtly waving back at Dave. Amazed, Blake scoffed. “Actually, he IS the unofficial contact from Gotham PD…” he said, “How the hell did you figure that out?” “Heh! Just a lucky guess…” you said, smiling “He has the quality…”

And before long, John Blake proceeded to do the needful. For in order to build a proper case against a man such as Erik Henderson, well stacked proof was essential from a reliable witness. And that was where you came in. You were cooperative with your answers, for you had no other reason not to be. Ever since the first mugging to the shoot out, you made sure to leave no details spared. Your pacing was appropriate, as Blake listened with focus, and all seemed to be going well. However, what fascinated you the most while describing the attacks, was one particular police officer standing nearby.

She was the redhead, who seemingly was quite close with Blake. And given her reaction to him, you certainly had no doubt confirming her affection for him. It was evident in the way she looked at him. A look, with a mix of admiration and affection, filtered down to appropriately fit the workplace environment. She was good at her job, as you noticed. She quick on her feet, casually passing by, dropping in more important files in Blake’s desk before he could even ask. And by the way he looked back at her with a subtle nod and a smile, you sensed a green flag to a possible future between the two. As much as their interaction was beautiful to witness, You could not help but be reminded of Bruce, and the affection you had for him yourself. A part of you longed for the liberation these people were fortunate enough to indulge in. The liberation to step out with your loved one with no consequence. However, that inconvenience was small price to pay. For Bruce Wayne was too precious for you to let go.

“Looks like we got everything we need…” closing the file, Blake appeared quite satisfied. “Oh good…” you breathed in relief. Sensing his confidence brought you hope. Perhaps this might lead to a legal resolution. Langdon, the redhead smiled secretly upon hearing the conversation, between her diligent file reading, and you managed to notice. Should you play cupid today? End their silent misery and gift them a happy ending?

“Uhh….” You began, “You know-” The merciless ring of your phone cut you off. “Greg!” you answered the call in a cheerful tone, “Everything okay?”

“Boss, it’s Clara!”

This was nothing new. However, you were confused. “Clara what?” You said, standing up, “What did she do this time, Greg?” you chuckled in disbelief by the thought of the consultant causing trouble once again.

“No, you don’t understand, Boss…” Greg said, sounding surprisingly downcast, “She’s leaving Wayne Enterprises…today”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were certain you would almost stumble entering the Wayne Tower. But thankfully you did not, as you ran through the lobby all the way to the elevator area.

“Come on , Come on!”

Impatiently muttering, your foot tapped impatiently when you realized not one elevator seemed available at that very moment. You sighed. The mere image of missing the opportunity to part with her seemed regretful. Especially when she had decided to leave unannounced.

You rushed back as soon as you received word. Yet, were you too late?

A sudden ding! forced you to look over to the other elevator. It opened, with Clara Bennett exiting it as a result. She certainly was surprised the moment she caught you there, panting like a fool.

“Where did YOU come running from?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I understand if you’re busy with other assignments…” You began, “….but why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?”

You could not help but inquiry that, escorting Clara out of the building with reluctance, “We could have had a party for you…” you said, “Don’t wanna brag but…We at HR throw some nice parties…” you smiled with confidence. Clara laughed, finally smiling wide enough to display her beautiful big teeth.

“Well, as much as I love parties…”she replied, slinging her handbag on to shoulder, “I just…felt like it was time” she added with a shrug. The moment those words exited her lips, you sensed sadness in them. Looking up at the towering building you called home, you sighed deeply: “You were a hurdle, Clara…”

You said, folding your arms soon after, “On the very first day I met you, I wanted nothing more than for this day to come” you added, “But…” you paused, “Not anymore…” shaking your head, you smiled warmly, “ And like adults, I was glad to see us resolving our differences, coming to equal ground. And I like to think we got to somewhere close enough to be called friends…” you chuckled, with that addition, “…And with you on our side, you helped out more than I expected…So…Thank you Clara”

Taking your extended hand, Clara shook it with a firm grip, whilst looking at you straight in the eye.

“It’s been an honor…knowing you …” she said, voice laced with a somber tone, “Remember that…”

Genuinely surprised by her attitude, you could not help but laugh nervously, “Clara…” you began, “…just because you’re not coming back here, doesn’t mean we can’t meet up , right?” You felt a slight desperation in your voice.

Letting go of your hand, she smiled sadly.

“You never know…Life is short…” she said, “So enjoy… every moment of it” she could not help but stress out each word. Surprised, you dropped your arms to your sides as she continued to speak, “You never know when someone’s gonna suddenly snatch it from you” she added, pressing her lips together “…and you definitely never know when you will take… your last breath…” she said, “So…carpe diem!”

Leaving you utterly speechless, Clara Bennett flashed you a final smile, nodding with respect as she quickly began to walk away. Being the confident woman she always was, it was certainly unexpected to have her speak of all things profound and sensitive even on her last day. And as much as you preferred professionalism, you felt pain invading your heart. You detested farewells. And this seemed like one.

If it were any other day, you would have wallowed on this loss. This loss of a possible, potential friend. But thankfully you were relieved. For tonight, you would find strong comfort to heal you.

And his name was Bruce.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Date Night)

The moment the elevator doors opened to the Penthouse, a scent greeted Bruce Wayne. A scent deemed quite unfamiliar to him, lingered in his nostrils.

Following Henderson’s false accusations, there was quite the damage control that was required , alongside convincing the board and the shareholders not to make a dramatic scene. With the aid of his trusted CEO, Wayne managed to calm the wolves. And when he returned to his abode that evening, he finally empathized the mental exhaustion of the common working man in Gotham at some level.

Thus, this unfamiliar scent surprisingly sent waves of energy through him, bringing life to his body in a manner that was indescribable. It was rich, savory yet simple, and definitely came from the kitchen. Turning towards that direction, he stopped the moment familiar voices reached his ears:

“No, Alfred! You see, the secret is to make them super thin” “Or else it gets too heavy, I assume?” “Exactly. Right to the point”

His heart certainly felt as ease the moment his eyes fell on her. Standing along with Alfred Pennyworth by the kitchen counter, an engaging conversation danced across their lips about the several plates of food before them.

A simple sight it may have been, true. But the sight brought forth a strange feeling to Bruce. A feeling so unfamiliar, yet warm. It was undeniable. The sense of security, the sense of belonging he never experienced, it finally revealed itself to him. This feeling, could this be a taste of Domestic Bliss? He could not help but smile by the mere thought of it. He could not help but be hopeful by it.

Sensing new company, the woman looked over her shoulder, forcing the family butler to do the same, as they finally caught the sight of Bruce. Their warm smiles immediately appeared, giving much color to their faces.

“Ah! Master Wayne!” Alfred called out, “You’re home”

Bruce smiled, for indeed he was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Can’t believe you’re finally taking the night off, Alfred”

Smiling to yourself, Bruce’s words filled your ears as you picked up one of the deep porcelain plates from the white marble counter.

“Well,..” Alfred began, “..finally I’m inclined to...” he said, flashing his full smile.

Heading towards the oven, you suddenly grew surprised by it. When you arrived at the Penthouse this evening, Bruce was not around. But it was truly a blessing in disguise as you wanted to surprise him with a lovely meal. And with Alfred as company, you simply had a blast. The more you conversed with British butler, the more you began to realize how he was already promoted to be one of the most favorite people to converse with. But during all this time, this certainly was a piece of information you did not hear before.

“What do you mean?” you inquired the two men, “He rarely takes any?” You added, whilst opening the oven door. Bruce smirked.

“You ask him” he motioned towards Alfred, who nodded instantly. Putting the plate inside, you were nothing but amused.

“Wooooooow! That’s huge” you said, moving over to grab two more plates, “Then I hope you enjoy tonight, Alfred. I’ll save your share” you winked playfully.

“Oh, I’m counting on you to, Miss” Alfred stated, as he pointed at the plates, “For that looks appetizing”

“Batman and Alfred...” You said, putting the plates inside the oven, “…taking the night off...Heheheh-oh! Speaking of...” you began, snapping your fingers after closing the oven door shut, “I was always curious…” you continued, “…why bats?”

The moment you posed this question, the men suddenly grew quiet. As if it was the most unexpected of inquiries. For a moment you wondered if you had stepped out of line. But truthfully you were surprised you did not ask about this before.

“Well-” Bruce began.

“Oh! Bats frighten him...” Cutting him off, Alfred added with such nonchalance, “So he reckoned it was time his enemies shared his dread as well”

This time, it was you and Bruce who took the opportunity to display surprise. With a simple shrug, Alfred still seemed unaffected.

“That’s what he told me, Miss” he added, his thick British accent giving the facts a firm support. Tilting your head, you nodded in acknowledgment. It probably would seem a tad bit outrageous explaining all this to someone else. You could empathize.

“Well…” you began, with your hands on your hips, “I’m petrified of roaches so...” you added with a chuckle, “I guess Batman is a better name than Roach man so…I’ll give props”

You said, watching the two grown men chuckling at your rather weak joke. Regardless of the quality of your humor, it was quite the sight to witness these men in their most relaxed and happy state. It fact, you were in realization of the privilege you possessed. Bruce began to stretch, running his hand through his hair in his three piece suit:

“Let me go change into something more comfortable”

“Oooooh!” You teased, “….like in the movies…”. Acknowledging it with a happy nod, he walked over to his bedroom. As you watched him walk away, you felt Alfred’s gaze at you.

“I admit, it is quite lovely to hear a sound of woman in this place” He beamed, grabbing his jacket, signaling his leave. You chuckled in complete disbelief.

“That’s really sweet, but I know that’s not true” you said, walking with him towards the elevator. Being the man he was, you could imagine all kinds of women making themselves at home in this place.

“On the contrary...” Alfred began, as the elevator door opened with a ding!, “Master Wayne doesn’t exactly socialize” he explained whilst entering the elevator. You could not help but admire his smart stance as he stood straight, “One might call this…” he said, pointing at you, “…. a rarity”

Touched, you smiled involuntarily. The fact Alfred Pennyworth even made the effort to convince you so, truly made your night.

“Thank you, Alfred…” You said softly, waving at him as the elevator doors closed shut.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(A few minutes later…)

Even placing items as simple as table mats on the elongated dinner table seemed to give a touch of home to the penthouse. Truthfully, you could not get over how humongous the apartment was. Tonight being the time you remained there the longest, you certainly indulged the time and took in the surroundings. As you admired, you could not help but drift off into a dream, fantasizing of a wonderful place of your own, living your best life possible. Moving towards the corner of the table, you began to place the stylish mats on the opposite sides before adding the fancy cutlery on one. “May I-?” Bruce’s soft voice crept in from behind you like a cool breeze. It soothed you. “Sure...thanks” You smiled, handing him the rest of the cutlery. Bruce smelled of bath gel and fresh laundry, donning a black t-shirt and shorts. He was at homely as he could be whilst moving to the other side to place the cutlery. Except he froze, standing there with a confused expression for a split second. Before you could even question, he suddenly smiled to your relief, surprising you as he took the table mat, moving it to the head of the table. Just so the two of you could sit close to one another, without even sparing any form of distance. You were soothed once more, except this time with warmth around your heart. “I know…” you suddenly began, “I’m not like other women-” “You're not..” He said, looking up at you with a smile. Suppressing your own smile, you pressed your lips tightly. He certainly always knew what to say. “This is NOT my date look, by the way...” You said defensively, pointing at yourself. Dressed for comfort, your gray sweatpants proudly showed off themselves with a plain white T-shirt, with your hair safely tied in a high bun. When it came to looking homely, you gave Bruce quite the competition, “I DO have something nicer...” You stressed, as you slowly took shy steps away from the table, in a particular rhythm, as if you partook in a dance routine, “…Hopefully you'll like it. You know us women, we won’t mind being complimented every once in a while. So…I hope you will…” you said, hands tightly tied behind your back with a mischievous smile. “Well...” Bruce said, looking at you up and down as he joined the mischievousness, “I was actually gonna say, that outfit looks-” “Don’t…I was just-” you chuckled, raising your hand with an embarrassing smile , “…you don’t have to-”

“...beautiful on you...”

Biting your lower lip, you smiled shyly as your eyes averted down. Though the penthouse was generously spacious, it was unbelievable how the air had suddenly left your respiratory system. It certainly was the first time he ever complimented you that way. Walking over to you, Bruce’s hand took yours, sending quick shivers down your spine. No matter often he had held you, it certainly was difficult to get accustomed to it. He was a dream to you.

“So...” he asked softly, “What are we having tonight?” Shyness took an impromptu break, leaving you with enough enthusiasm to be your cheery self once again. “Well you’re in for a treat...” you said brightly. Tugging him by the hand, you led him to the kitchen area, “ Fun fact, my mom used to make this…” you said, as the both of you stood before the oven, “…its her own special recipe...” “Really? How do you make it?” “Oh...” you chuckled nervously, for that was unexpected,“…you wouldn’t find it interesting...” But his look said otherwise. It was difficult to comprehend how curious he was about it. “Well ...” you held your hands together, “It’s basically a flavorful meat filling, stir fried with onions, carrots and spices…” you said, squinting your eyes with pleasure, “…then it’s wrapped inside a thin savory crepe, baked with a delicious cheese sauce poured over it...” Your face and hands were on a world of their own, relishing the sheer image of the cooking process, yet you managed to notice the fascination in Bruce’s eyes as he watched you with his hand on the counter.

“It’s a simple dish, yes”you admitted with a nod, “but it’s really, really good…it’s….” You paused, as if to find the perfect words, finally looking up with a smile “...something very special to me. So I figured...” you shrugged, “…why not share it with you?”

“The way Alfred wanted his share, clearly says something” Bruce chuckled, turning to grab the wine bottle that stood on the counter. “Speaking of which....” you began, opening an overhead cupboard to grab two wine glasses, “I’m really glad he took a break tonight” “All thanks to you…” “Well, Hope he is having a blast…” You said, watching him insert the corkscrew into the bottle cork. “He is…” He said with a smile, twisting the screw in. You raised your eyebrows. “How do you know?” You inquired, trying your hardest to not be distracted by his toned arms as he pulled the cork up finally. “Cause he’s having drinks with Lucius..” “Mr.Fox?” Your eyes widened, “ Huh! Never knew they were friends” You said, involuntarily nodding with acknowledgement as you placed the glasses in front of him. Pouring the red wine into the glasses, he nodded: “They like you….” He said, “Alfred and Fox. They never fail to mention it to me…” he added with a soft chuckle. Happiness and relief overflowed within you, it was simply unbelievable. “Awww! I’m sorry you had to hear that…” You said, adding a mischievous grin. “No…it’s reassuring” Bruce’s response had you surprised, “I’m glad they do…” he looked over to you, “…it means I made the right choice” Busy trying to pick up your heart that suddenly had fallen on to the ground, you did not even hear the Oven Timer ring. Never did you realize how romantic he could be, with the simplest of words. Waking from the spell he had casted, you looked at the oven with wide eyes: “Oh! It’s ready…” Scurrying towards the oven, pride was written all over your face by the sight before you. The spicy meat filled delights were indeed ready. The cheesy sauce bubbled on each plate, giving it such an appetizing appearance. “Wow…” You heard Bruce breath, which seemed to be a very good sign indeed. Looking over at him, you smiled widely: “Bon Appétit! Monsieur Wayne…”

With the hot deep plates safely kept on heat mats, you and Bruce dug in with your forks, feasting on the simple yet delicious dinner, while quenching the thirst with red wine. The spicy meat filling provided much contrast from the rich cheesy sauce and the soft crepe. The taste will always be unforgettable, as you still could not get over it after all these years. It was your comfort food. You hoped Bruce would feel the same. And to your relief, it was safe to say he relished it as much as you did.

Silence did not take part tonight, for conversation was simply energetic. Curiosity of each other’s lives led to a chat about one’s life at university, which ranged from your gap year traveling abroad learning foreign languages, to the time Bruce embarked on a seven year journey traveling the world, all in order to train, combat his fears until he finally returned to Gotham with a purpose of his own. Immersed in his words, you were delighted to watch him speak with gusto. Nodding enthusiastically, you listened with the most focus. The more you learnt about the man, the more you were compelled to respect and empathize him. All the sudden, you realized a matter of much importance.

“…I couldn’t do it as Bruce Wayne…” he continued, “Gotham needed a symbol... something elemental…”

Nodding in acknowledgment, you slowly got up unannounced, which surprised him. “What is it?” He inquired as you exited the table. But, you returned back to the table, only to place another steaming plate of spicy meat crepe with the delicious cheese sauce before him. “You were licking the plate clean” you said, with your hands on your hips. Just then, Bruce looked at his hands, as he noticed how he had kept the fork aside, licking whatever remained in his empty plate with his fingers. “But …” he fumbled, “…isn’t this Alfred’s share?” He said, pointing at the new plate. “I made four…” you said, turning towards the fridge, “ ..his one is inside” looking back at Bruce, you smiled, “Figured Gotham’s Dark Knight…would have an appetite” Looking down at his new plate, Bruce looked back at you with a smile: “This is really good” he said, as he quickly proceeded to eat the rest. Your heart did not fail to clench with emotion. The fact someone as rich and powerful as he showed this much enthusiasm towards your humble dinner, it certainly made you adore him even more.

After more feasting and talking, came in the not-so-interesting part: cleaning the dishes.Truthfully, you never detested the activity. However, having a dishwasher certainly would help you focus more on the date instead. Bruce was helpful, as you both did the needful cleaning before inserting the plates and dishes into the machine. Done in complete silence, yet it was a comfortable one. It was therapeutic. “Everything you just said...” you began, as you put the last plate in, “about your past…I…” you paused with a smile,“I really appreciate it. Truly” You said, closing the dishwasher. With his hands in his shorts pockets, Bruce nodded in acknowledgment: “Well...I wanted to tell you…” he said, a gentle smile lingering in his lips. Turning back, you wore a secret smile. You heard Bruce chuckle. “I assume you’re gonna say something” He said, inviting you to smile broader. The mannerisms he had identified in you so quickly, it pleased you. It was impressive. The fact he actually pays attention to them, you could not help but increase your affection for him even more. Lazily leaning against the counter, you tilted your head: “You’re so different out there with everyone” you said. “You’ll have to be more specific” “I mean…” putting your hands up in defense, “…no offense, but…” you paused, as if to think, “...whenever I would see you in the news or out in public...” fumbling, you began to laugh, “…you’re that rich jerk…You know? Arrogant and carefree…” you added, mid laughter, upon seeing his wide eyed astonishment, “…its true…but whenever we’re alone…” with your tone changing to soft, “…you’re so different.”. With much needed pause, you looked at him with a serious expression, “...Why?” Bruce smirked, “I think you know why…” “What?” “Go ahead, I wanna hear what you think” Bruce said, sounding quite fascinated once more. This liberation of expression, it was new for you. Looking down, you allowed your trail of thoughts to take center stage, until you finally gathered your thoughts to look up with a confident gaze: “Maybe…” you began, “… you’re doing it on purpose…” you said, as he took two steps closer to you, “…Maybe you’re being the person people would least expect to even be considered as Batman” you smiled, “It’s like you’re… putting on a show, showing pretense…” You had a gut feeling your answer was somewhere close to accurate, given the impressed look in his face. Bruce nodded: “It makes it seem less suspicious, yes” he agreed. Suddenly you felt the urge to be bold: “What about me? Are you pretending with me?” you inquired, slightly afraid to know the answer. But to your surprise, he took another step closer to you, merely a few centimeters between, causing your heart to beat fiercely once again. Warmth tapped you on the shoulder the moment he cupped your face to look straight at you. “I never did” he breathed. Your eyebrows were raised. “Not even on the first day?-” “Especially not on the first day” “Good” You heard yourself say. You were relieved. However, your poor heart began to engage in intense skipping rounds of ecstasy, when his thumb lightly brushed over your lips with affection. And you, being the hopeless romantic, did not hesitate to let your lips kiss it gently, the moment it made contact. All the while your eyes never left his. Suddenly, Bruce was not patient anymore, surprising you fully as he swooped in to kiss you on the lips. A kiss that you embraced with all your heart. A kiss that was far from gentle. A kiss that set you on fire.

Roughly pressed against the dishwasher counter, your hands were greedy, grabbing him by his head, only to run your fingers through his hair. You always loved his hair. Your fingers shared your greed, as it proceeded to massage his scalp lightly in an involuntary fashion. All the while his lips expressed his affection to yours. You heard the pleasure you inflicted on him in your mouth, all by the forms of hums. Chuckling into the kiss, you quickly began to desperately moan the moment his tongue teased your lips, begging to enter safely. You were generous enough, welcoming him with enthusiasm, feeling it dash to find your own.

His intoxicating tongue, claimed ownership of yours, which you did not mind. Your own tongue held onto his with much force, the moment his large hands grabbed you by the buttocks, squeezing them tight enough to confirm his suspicions of if you even real. This pleasure was simply endless, causing much temptation as you felt his hand crawl underneath your shirt from the back. His bare fingers making initial contact with your bare flesh, was akin to touching fire, you were burning up. However, the moment that greedy hand traveled up, you had a clear idea of where this passionate encounter might head towards. And it wasn’t the best choice. Not like this.

“Bruce” You muttered, breathlessly into his lips. “Yeah?” His response came in the form of a desperate, sensual whisper. With your forehead pressed against his, you breathed in:

“Give me a few minutes!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Steam filled the entire guest bathroom as you carefully exited the shower. For some reason you could not keep your eyes off your own reflection while you did. Grabbing a large towel, you were on a strict inspection of your own wet, glistening nude frame. You dried, moisturized and scented it as usual. You even proceeded to dress yourself. All the while, certain questions lingered in your mind: Would he like what he sees? Would you disappoint him? Would he accept it all?

A sudden rush flowed through to you, providing you with the horrifying reminder of your insecurities. You sighed.

“It’s just sex....just calm down” you muttered to yourself as you brushed your hair till it was smooth. Yes, it was just that. So why were you this nervous?

It certainly was not your first time, even with Bruce Wayne himself. In fact, the first ever time with him happened in the most unexpected and stress-free manner possible. Not to mention the pleasure. Frustrated, You closed your eyes. For the feeling of him inside you was still fresh in your memory, and in your own body. However, that fateful morning, desperation fueled the fire of your lovemaking. Thus, nothing else mattered.

Except tonight, no form of desperation came into play. Tonight you were blessed with the time and freedom for lovers to indulge and make love as nature rightfully intended them to. But that certainly meant taking one’s time, displaying vulnerability in every way possible, which included the physical. But you were simply nervous, and a part of you wished if lovemaking was every possible without the physical aspect. Looking at your own reflection, you traced your arms, your chest, your stomach with another sigh. You were no beauty queen, no model nor actress. Being a man with infinite pleasures in the palm of his hand, would he find you adequate? Would those pupils of his dilate and would that heart of his react to you upon witnessing at your most exposed? Your nervousness intensified to the point heat formed around your cheeks, while a knot formed in your stomach. This was simply too much, if only you could run away. But you could not. More importantly, you chose not to. You cared for him too much, you longed for him too much.

Sudden buzz from the phone woke you from your internal debate, forcing you to gaze upon the text that was received:

Hey! You at home?

It was Clara. Seeing it brought a smile, it relaxed you. Another text appeared:

You know what? I feel really bummed about suddenly leaving today. We couldn’t even hang out properly. So I was wondering if you wanna meet up for coffee?

“Oh Clara...” You muttered, clicking your tongue. Shaking your head, you formed a reply:

Hey! As much as I would love that, I can’t tonight. I’m sorta on a date. I’m really sorry :(

It was true, you really were sorry timing sucked this much. A state of unease came over you until you received her response, which was soon:

Oh wow! That’s great. Don’t apologize. Remember what I said. Life is short. So, enjoy your date!

Thanks.

The moment you replied, a certain weight was lifted off your shoulders. As if Clara’s texts were the required force you needed to push away the boulder of insecurity from your view. And everything seemed clearer in an instant. Yes, you were on a date. Thank goodness you were, after ages. And with a wonderful man as well. Would it be so wrong to live for the moment? Would it so wrong to throw that insecurity away, all because you wanted to love him the way you could? Pinching your cheeks hard, you managed to turn your cheeks red, before looking back at your reflection:

“Okay...” you said, taking a deep breath, “let’s do this”

Making your way to his bedroom never felt this nerve wracking. You took a deep breath:

“Sorry I kept you long-”

You quickly paused, covering your mouth as you halted on your tracks. All when you finally saw Bruce. For he was there, but he definitely was not awake.

“Oh Bruce…” you muttered, soft as the way your heart broke by the sight of him. Slowly walking towards the bed, you managed to get a clear view. With the two wine glasses filled with red wine kept on the bedside cupboard, it was evident how he had waited for you. Yet it seemed that exhaustion had won, causing him to fall sleep across the bed as a result.

Truthfully you were not upset. During the past two days, you were aware of his hectic schedule. And that certainly meant being hectic as the silent protector of Gotham city. Catching who and what? You were well informed all thanks to wheresdabat.com. It was no bed of roses, being the Batman. You were an adult, so you understood. Life happens, shit happens as well. Thus, the fact the man you cared for with all your heart was safe and sound, and fast asleep seemed more relieving and important than any other concern. In fact, you could relate to his exhaustion. For he was human, no different from the rest of all humanity.

“Bruce...Hey” Crawling into bed, you whispered to his angelic figure softly, “…let’s get some sleep” you said, running your fingers softly through his head,“ Bruce-oh!”

You were quickly interjected as Bruce sleepily grabbed you by the waist, only to lay his head on your lap instead of grabbing a pillow. As inconvenient as it initially was, considering the fact you were still seated on bed, you still found it incredibly adorable. For you rather spend the entire night smoothing his hair and gazing into his peaceful sleeping face with all the love in the world combined.

There may not be any love making tonight, but that did not mean you could not make passionate love to him with your heart, that seemed to grow even larger.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You opened your eyes only upon the persuasion of the warm sunlight that had landed on your face. It surprised you, especially the fact you did not wake up to the blue hour this morning. Perhaps exhaustion caught up with you as well, forcing you to sleep through it. Fluttering your eyes fully open, you were greeted to the sight of the high glass windows that filtered the morning sunlight into the penthouse, providing the room with much clarity. Stretching out, you realized your lower body felt heavy, only to find Bruce still there, his head still resting on your lap as he slept soundly. Staring back at the roof, you smiled to yourself. You had the pleasure of indulging in this man’s features throughout the entire night, you could conjure up his face with your own imagination alone. You studied every line, every shape, they were all imprinted on your head. Slowly sitting up, you looked over to reunite with his visage, however your subtle movements convinced him to stir awake.

“ Morning” he mumbled, looking right at you with squinted eyes, to which you chuckled. His sleepy voice was heaven to your ears. “Good Morning…” you whispered as he slowly sat up. The mere image of this man in such a state was not a sight you expected to see. And given his expression, he certainly did not expect to behave this way either.

“I’m sorry…” he muttered deeply, “I fell asleep…”whilst rubbing his eyes groggily. But you shook your head slowly, managing to rid the sleep out of him the moment you caressed his face. Your eyes whispered to him how he need not apologize. Your smile reminded him how you empathized him. Your touch convinced that all was well. To which he smiled back with relief.

“Right…” you said, before moving towards the end of the bed, “…who wants coffee-” Except you could not get off the bed. Not when you felt Bruce pull you back to him, interjecting you with a long kiss. Surrendering to his lips, you were fully convinced how you were simply enslaved to his kiss, involuntarily wrapping your arms around his neck to intensify it. Finally pulling away, you felt his lips morph into a smile: “Looks like mornings our time, huh?” He breathed, forehead brushing against yours affectionately. Chuckling, you certainly could not forget the previous morning encounter. Perhaps the mornings were kinder to the both of you when it came to physical intimacy. “Oh…definitely…” you purred. However, you were sobered up the moment Bruce looked you up and down with wide eyes. As if the desirous spell had worn off. “You changed?” Looking down, you broke into laughter, “Oh yeah! I did…you didn’t see it last night” you said, quickly getting out of bed, fixing your loose hair before you displayed yourself to him. The morning sunlight managed to illuminate the green floral high waisted flowy long skirt, along with the white knot crop top you had matched it with, “…wore this especially for you” Placing your hands on your hips, you posed like a model, “…you like it?”

“I do…” sitting on the edge of the bed, Bruce was more than pleased. His tone suggested further than admiration. He simply seemed engrossed by the sight of you. And it sent shivers down your spine.

“Gosh....” You cried out in muffled tone, covering your face shyly whilst Bruce laughed.

“No really, You do look beautiful...” He said affectionately, extending his hand, beckoning you to come close to him. Walking up to him, you were quite shy: “I admit...It does feel nice when you say it…Oh!”

You quietened, it occurred so quickly the moment you felt his hands on your waist. Looking up at you, he managed to undress you completely with his eyes whilst his hands managed to undo your skirt from behind. He was not jesting anymore. And his eyes were sole proof. With your mouth parted slowly, no sounds exited you even when the skirt finally reached the floor, leaving your legs exposed to the open air. Before the chill attacked your skin, your heart began an impromptu workout as his hands grazed up your thighs, warming them and turning your legs into jelly, resulting you to straddle the man unannounced.

That insecurity of yours that haunted you last night, did not seem like much of an issue anymore. Not when you were brimming with the need to have him all to yourself. More importantly, the greed.

Panting slowly, you did not hesitate to permit your nimble fingers to grab on to his crew neckline, desperately pulling it up in order for him to completely discard it from his frame, revealing to you a side of him you had never laid eyes on.

Bruce Wayne was athletic, he was toned, well sculpted and simply breathtaking. You were awestruck without a doubt, but well aware to urge your fingers to run across his bare torso with such fascination and lust. Little did you know Bruce had plans, especially when he brushed your hair to the left side, leaving the right side of your neck all by its lonesome, but soon to be fortunate when he placed his hungry lips on it, kissing it with such tenderness you felt each one to the core. With eyes closed and immersed in pleasure, you were convinced how desperation definitely had taken a step back this time, leaving the lovers to indulge on each other leisurely. Holding you finally by the neck, you sensed the desire had quadrupled in his gaze, leaving you to gasp as he flipped you onto the bed in a flash.

Until you both heard sounds of glass clinking.

“What the-” Bruce’s impatience of getting you to bed, affected the two wine glasses that were kept on the bedside cupboard. For he accidentally hit them during, forcing the red wine to spill all over both of you. The glasses were safe, but your clothes were not. And that certainly was embarrassing enough to cause huge laughter between the two.

“Shit!” Bruce chuckled shyly, “Forgot that was there” Looking down at your heavily red stained knot crop top, you giggled to your own surprise. “Well Mr.Wayne…” you began teasingly, “ I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling very sticky right now..” “You and me both, Ma’am…” “What? Oh my-” Squeals erupted excitedly when you felt Bruce scoop you up and carry you to the shower with haste. Laughing alongside him, you held on to him with joy. Life may be laying down several obstructions for you lovers to love, yet you were more than grateful to spend the blessed time together. You smiled as the shower head sprayed warm water onto you whilst you began to undo the knot of your crop top.

“Ahhh this is so nice…” you yelled loud enough for your voice to travel across the shower, “I love your temperature settings, Bruce-Ah!”

Clutching your chest, you gasped the moment you found him standing right behind you. Which was more surprising, considering the fact he stood there, in the complete nude. It was breathtaking on another level, for sure.

In all your imaginary attempts, witnessing Bruce Wayne in this state was a challenge. Filled with such a sight, your eyes simply did not know where to begin and where to end. For you stood before a deity.

“You’re not gonna wait your turn to shower?” You inquired, looking into his eyes as you did.

“Why should I? When we could do it together?”

That whispery query, it fueled you with a sense of arousal you had never experienced. It energized you, pushing aside any form of demureness as your eyes boldly began to scan his frame from top to bottom. But not without undressing yourself.

The sound of the running water filled the background whilst your crop top left your shoulders, leaving your wet, lace bra glued to your chest, which you successfully unhooked and peeled off to reveal your most vulnerable before your deity. Breathing was in slow syncopation, harmonizing with one another as you pressed your lips together with immense frustration. It seemed the wine spillage was no disruption at all.

“We’re not gonna shower, are we?” You inquired softly, taking a deep breath as you boldly felt his manhood. Your eyes glued to his own, your hand did not fail to display your affection by the careful strokes and gentle grips. Listening to his soft shivers upon your touch aroused you even more.

“Not really” he whispered, slowly shaking his head. And that really was all he could say. All before he blessed you with kisses. With you pushed against the wall, the hot water steadily flowed through you as you indulged in his blessings. Though he truthfully attacked you with kisses, you were not hesitant to call them blessings instead, as you welcomed them with the similar need of welcoming oxygen into your lungs. His kisses were that vital. They gave you life. Amazing how Bruce Wayne grew more and more important to you with every minute.

Desperation surprisingly kicked in Bruce when you felt his long fingers hook on to your wet panties, quickly pulling them down frantically until you managed to kick them off of you. It certainly was an entirely different experience when you sensed his generous hands roam over your naked, wet body, all the while his lips were busy tasting yours. And in the most unexpected manner, you felt light as a feather when Bruce picked you up with haste, wrapping your legs around his waist before his awakened shaft finally entered your throbbing opening upon your loud cries. Unexpected indeed.

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you literally held on to dear life as he thrusted into you with passion. However, before you found yourself lost in pure pleasure, you were suddenly occupied with concern. For this was not how you longed for this to end.

“Bruce-Bruce…” you breathed, “…the bed-Take me to bed” Desperate cries, they reached his ears in a flash, his obedience following suit as the running water suddenly stopped before he carried you out of the cubicle in trance. “Wait Wait Wait!” Stopping suddenly upon your pleas, Bruce woke up from his intoxicated state, only to laugh out loud when he saw you grab a large towel before he exited the bathroom itself.

“What?” You inquired, looking at him with confusion when you proceeded to dry his hair while he walked. Laughter dying down to a chuckle, Bruce’s eyes were filled with warmth as he watched you:

“You’re definitely not like other women”

Smiling back, you pressed your forehead against his with affection: “You’re right” you breathed, “I’m not…and I won’t be” you added, tone with filled sincerity as you kissed him passionately. With his manhood still lingering inside of you, heaven was your current residence, moving to a better neighborhood when you finally landed back in his bed, pulling away from his lips, only to Bruce him hovering over you. This view, this position, it was all that you ever dreamed of.

“Love me…please”

That was all you needed to utter, before he resumed to move inside of you. His lips, they broke from the confines of your lips, making their escape throughout your frame, savoring every inch of your being, whilst his steady rhythm increased.

Today, grateful you were for the morning sun, shining gracefully on the penthouse and on your lover, just so you could remember this moment with clarity. Today, grateful you were for the generous time, and the gift of privacy for the two of you to finally indulge on each other with liberty, filling the atmosphere with nothing but the hushed cries of your names, until much satisfied release was finally met to the highest degree.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Meanwhile…)

The beautiful marble floors indulged the attention as a woman in her early fifties walked down the hallway over them. Elegantly beautiful in her pantsuit, she finally stood by the door of the master bedroom. The room was furnished with the most expensive, and exuded wealth and power, which was highly emphasized by the beautiful stream of sunlight that fell on it through the curtains. The woman stood patiently, staring at the older man who lazily pulled himself up from bed: Erik Henderson.

“Darling…” she began affectionately, “You’re awake…” her jeweled fingers grazing the door handle.

Henderson’s head turned, his messy hair resembling a crows nest as he glanced upon his wife. Only to roll his eyes with the least enthusiasm.

“Eh…” he muttered hoarsely with disgust, “Thought you’d be gone for your yoga by now” he said, turning away in an instant. Swallowing her sadness, the woman’s well practiced patience and grace continued to save her.

“It got canceled” she said, maintaining her affection. She did not seem surprised. Erik may be blessed with wealth, but the man unfortunately was never blessed with the sense of appreciation for life. Be it his comfort, his success, and even the wonderful woman who was his wife. Though her husband had fallen out of love, she never gave up. Even years later. Gripping on to one of her fingers, she took a deep breath, “Erik…” she began, but her husband did not respond, as he quietly moved forward towards the glass trolley filled with bottles of alcohol.

“Erik?”

“WHAT?” He snarled annoyingly, looking at her. Flinching by his response, her breath shook nervously.

“Did you think about what I said?” She asked, watching him turn back to the trolley, "About the Donation?” Her eyes glinted with hope whilst she mentioned it.

“Oh that…” Henderson began monotonously, as he poured himself a drink, “…you know what?” He said, turning to face her with a glass of whiskey in hand, “Why don’t you ask me later…Maybe when I’m feeling a bit more…charitable? Hmmm?”

He was mocking her, it was quite evident. And he relished every moment of it. Scoffing in disbelief, the woman shook her head disappointingly, leaving him to himself as it was the only option.

Taking a gulp from his whiskey, Erik Henderson savored the taste in silence. The taste which consisted of his power, his dominance over every thing he laid eyes on.

“She seems nice…”

“Crap!”

Jumping with surprise, Henderson cried out, turning to his right upon hearing a familiar voice. It was Alpha.

Sitting comfortable on one of Henderson’s armchairs, the attire remained similar with it’s full black gear and donning the skull shaped mask. In short, it was menacing, even more so out in the daylight.

“Apologies…if you didn’t notice me come in…” it said in it’s electronic tone, “I thought you knew…” pausing, it coughed out loud, “… ignoring your wife and all”

Fuming, Henderson was not amused, especially with his veins popping out.

“I don’t think I deserve that kind of tone…when I’m constantly disappointed by your failure” he spat, moving violently about, causing the whiskey drink to fly over all corners. Alpha slowly rose up from the chair:

“If it’s any consolation, it was a close call, Mr. Henderson.” It said, “That night we almost had it. But those blunders aren’t for nothing” taking a few steps, its voice got lower, “We now have an advantage. And I am happy to say the next attempt will definitely be the last”

Erik scoffed, “I’ll only believe it when you bring me her carcass”

“But…” stopping, Alpha folded its arms, “I’m not a charity case you can just ignore, Sir” it said in a serious tone, “..you’ve fallen short on the last few payment installments”

With wide eyes, Henderson began to guffaw. He laughed so hard, it was he stared at a chimpanzee doing tricks. Putting down his glass, he pointed at Alpha whilst the laughter continues to take control, “In-Installments?” He repeated, clapping his hands, “Ohoho! You people are really something, eh? I mean, what’s really the fuss, huh? Worrying about payments over one lousy bitch?-ARGH!”

Fearful screams suddenly exited Henderson’s mouth, interjecting with the sound of strangulation as Alpha grabbed him by the neck, lifting him by the neck itself effortlessly whilst the old man dangled. Suddenly he was not so cocky now.

“You may be too rich to notice but…” Alpha began menacingly, “… we don’t do this just for kicks, Mr. Henderson” it said, its grip tightening in the midst of Henderson’s gasps, “Its a job…like anyone else’s. Its not like we’re these monsters…” it shrugged, “we also have food to buy, taxes to pay…”

Chuckling to oneself, Alpha felt adventurous with its humor. Almost about to blackout, Henderson frantically tapped Alpha on the hand. With a quick release, Alpha watched the pitiful man land on the ground with a groan.

“This time I can guarantee results…from my side…” it declared, as it slowly backed up towards a window, “…expecting the same from yours…”

Still gasping for air, Henderson recoiled with fear the moment a huge puff of smoke appeared with a bang, only to later find Alpha had disappeared.

Suddenly, his wife did not seem to be bad company.

——————————————————

Chapter 9 HERE!

Tagged: @tealaquinn @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm @everyday-imfangirling @lucy-roo @works-of-fanfiction @bale-is-a-babe @badsext @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse @artsymaddie @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @strangerliaa @jensen-impala @lilyofthesword @woodencupcake @fonduebitches @soullesstaco @spicybellinger @marvel-lously @glitterypinkkitty @danceyreagan

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

#christian bale #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x oc #bale! bruce wayne #bale! bruce wayne x reader #batman #batfam #dc universe #dc comics #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight rises #nolans batman #bail out

212 notes · View notes

whelvenwings · 5 years ago

Text

I Thought You Knew

Dean’s doing great with social distancing - or not bad, anyway - and then Charlie just has to try to put him in contact again with his old crush, Castiel. But they’re going to be able to keep things strictly professional and ignore their history - right?

~5k. Content information: this fic is set right now and mentions some small difficulties with self-isolation, but contains no mention of the pandemic itself.

Read here on AO3 if you prefer!

—————————————

It was all going just fine until Castiel got involved.

Well, for a given value of ‘fine’, anyway. If Dean was honest, social distancing wasn’t proving to be a picnic. At first he’d been sure he’d have no trouble – thought he’d have time to relisten to all his favourite albums, learn to cook brisket. First figure out what exactly brisket even was, actually, and then learn to cook it. With the world in such a state, and with so many things to worry about, Dean had thought that he’d at least be able to deal with being isolated.

Dean could really, really not deal at all with being isolated.

He was climbing up the walls by day three. There was something about only having himself for company, only his own face in the mirror to see and only himself to talk to, that seemed to flick some kind of switch in his brain. When he took his one piece of exercise a day, he made it a walk instead of a run so that he could go slowly and smile at people as he went. Him. Dean. Smiling at people on the street. Exchanging small talk about the weather with them.

It was only the fact that a whole lot of other people seemed to be doing it too that gave him any reassurance he wasn’t going completely soft.

By day five, he’d messaged Charlie so many times that she’d decided he needed some kind of project.

And that was how Castiel came into it.

Because Dean and Charlie had been due to move in together, had even put a deposit down on a place. It was there, ready for them. They just had to wait until isolation wasn’t so necessary to be able to move in. And so Charlie’s project for Dean was to figure out the interior decoration of their new place.

“I’ll suck at it,” he told her over the phone.

“Right,” Charlie said disbelievingly. “You think I haven’t noticed your tasteful curtains? The counterpane on your bed?”

“The hell is a counter-pain?”

“It’s the thing on your bed,” Charlie said, with more patience than Dean would’ve expected, which made him narrow his eyes. There was some part of this that he wasn’t going to like, and she hadn’t told him yet, and she was being nice so that he would be nice.

“Right. Well, anyway, yeah,” he said, deciding to agree now while the part he wouldn’t like still hadn’t come up, so the agreement to that part would be a separate issue. After all these years of knowing each other, Dean had his tactics. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. Consider our place’s design sorted.”

“Cool,” Charlie said quickly. “Cool, cool, cool. Um, so I’ll just let Castiel know, then, and you guys can –”

Dean, who had been walking from his kitchen to his living room, tripped over his rug. He grabbed the door frame to catch himself.

There was a moment of silence on the phone.

“Are you alive,” Charlie said after a second, tentatively.

“Castiel,” Dean said. “Castiel Novak?”

“Um. Yes?” Charlie said, trying to sound small and charming.

“Charlie, you’re kidding me.”

“I know,” Charlie said, drawing out the ‘o’ into a little understanding wail. “But after we graduated he went into interior design, and he’s so good at it, so back when I thought we’d be too busy to, you know, do the decorating ourselves after we moved in, I just sort of… spoke to him about it… and he said he’d do it for a really reduced rate, and scrap the consultation fee, so we’d basically just be paying market prices for whatever he chose, and…”

She kept rambling, filling up the space so that Dean couldn’t get an argumentative word in edgeways. He wasn’t sure he even had the words to be able to protest with, anyway. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then looked down at his toe, which hadn’t enjoyed the trip on the rug.

“But you know I hate the guy,” Dean said when Charlie finally ran out of things to say. He’d meant it to sound jokey, but it came out just a bit too quiet.

There was a little rush of static down the phone as Charlie sighed.

“I know,” she said, in the gentlest tone of voice she had. “I know you do.”

“Can’t I just do it all, now that everything’s like it is?”

“It’s just… the deal he’s giving us is really good,” Charlie said, and he could hear the wretchedness in her tone.

“He can still do the deal?”

“Oh, yeah. His business is doing okay. You know what he’s like. He’s always got seven strategies for everything.”

“Right.” Dean bit out the word. He did know what Castiel was like. Or rather, he’d thought he did.

“But what with… everything… we won’t be able to afford any decent interior design if the deal with Castiel falls through. Which is, like… the least important problem in the whole world right now, maybe. But when this is over I want to live in a nice place with you, dude. Like we always said we would.”

Dean let out a breath.

“A special place of our own…” Charlie wheedled.

Ugh.

“In the centre of the city,” Dean said, after a second.

“With a kitchen island for you –”

“– and a gaming den for you –”

“– and a giant TV for both of us,” they finished together. They’d been wanting this since their first year of college. They’d worked so hard for it, to be able to live together and away from the pasts they’d struggled to leave behind.

Speaking of a past that Dean wanted to leave behind –

“But… Castiel Novak,” he said.

“Dude, listen. It’s going to be like, one Zoom call. Maybe two. Everything else you guys can do via email. And he’ll be completely professional, I’m like, one hundred percent sure.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Huh. Okay. So, you don’t think, just for example, just say, I don’t know…”

“Dean,” Charlie said, trying to head him off, but Dean was in full swing now.

“You don’t think he’ll, say, pretend to be really enjoying the job, and keep spending loads of time on the job, and definitely seem like he’s ready to start doing the job on a more permanent and exclusive basis, and then suddenly have a one-eighty and decide not to do the job at all?”

“Dean,” Charlie said again, and her tone of voice hovered between understanding and amusement.

Dean swallowed. He didn’t want to put any of it into words – how much it had really meant to him, what he’d felt growing between him and Castiel back in college. How happy it had made him when he’d thought that Castiel felt the same. And how much it had hurt when Castiel had blown him off for their first date, twice, to hang out with other friends.

“Listen,” Charlie said, “I swear. A couple Zoom calls, some emailing, that’s it.”

“Is he still…” Dean didn’t know how to phrase his question.

“Kind? Polite? Occasionally grumpy? Yeah. But he’s super not hot anymore, so.”

Dean made a sound of disbelief.

“When you’re emailing,” Charlie said, “you can just pretend it’s someone completely different, anyway, right? And I’ll help any way I can.”

Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Any way?” he said. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to be there.”

––––––––

Sitting in his lounge at noon the next day, Dean logged onto his Zoom, and started the meeting.

He’d insisted that he be the host. Castiel had apparently protested that he had a Zoom enterprise plan and he could host the call, but Dean got a business account through his work, and somehow it made him feel better to be the one arranging the time and starting things off.

He was calm.

He was in control.

He was going to talk to Castiel Novak about interior design.

And it was going to be fine. Years had passed since those days in college when Dean had felt so strongly for him. He was a different person now, and so was Castiel. This wasn’t going to be a big deal.

Someone logged into the meeting, and Dean’s heart skipped heavily, thudding hard and uneven in his chest. He squared his laptop on his coffee table, sat up, resisted the urge to look down at himself on the screen and check his hair –

“Hey, Dean,” Charlie said, and Dean breathed out.

He looked down at himself, and checked his hair.

Still fine. He looked fine. Just normal.

“Dean? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Dean said. “Sorry, hey.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Charlie’s picture on Dean’s screen was a little grainy, but he could see the half-grin, half-grimace on her face. “Look, I’ve been thinking, and it’s probably really unfair of me to just –”

“It’s fine,” Dean grunted, waving a hand. The last thing he needed was for Castiel to log onto the meeting right at the point when Charlie was reassuring him through this encounter with his years-old crush. “It’ll probably be good.”

“… Okay?” Charlie said, with the confusion of someone who was getting away with something much more easily than they’d expected.

“I get veto power over any weird crap you try to put into the design, though.”

“Like you wouldn’t assume you have that anyway,” Charlie said. Dean made a face, and then sent her an expletive via private message. “Charming,” Charlie said.

A third person joined the meeting.

Dean felt his heart rate soar. There was only one other person who had the invitation. This had to be him. Dean licked his lips, cleared his throat, brushed at his nose, shifted on his sofa, and then tried his best to sit still and look relaxed.

The picture flickered to life. There he was.

Castiel Novak, on Dean’s laptop screen. His hair was still unruly, and his narrow-eyed expression as he waited for the call to load was a familiar one. Familiar enough to make Dean’s chest ache.

“Hello?” Castiel said, and Dean was gone. He was gone. That low, rumbling voice was just the same as it had always been. If Dean had known how to breathe a second ago, he was now having trouble remembering exactly.

“Hi, Castiel,” Charlie said easily, as Dean typed out a quick salvo of messages to her.

>> fuck you he’s still exactly the same >> he’s still hot >> fuck this

“Dean, you can hear Castiel, can’t you?” Charlie said, her tone edged with an instruction. Be polite.

“Uh.” Dean looked at Castiel on his screen. He didn’t know why these words were so hard to say. When he spoke them, they came out far too soft. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel blinked. Some of the tension seemed to go out of his shoulders.

“Hello, Dean,” he replied.

Dean almost wanted to laugh. He almost wanted to leap through the screen to where Castiel was. He definitely wanted to shut his laptop and throw it out the nearest window.

He settled for ducking his head to hide the slight smile he couldn’t repress, and the hurt that he knew had to be showing in his eyes. How did this feel so good and so bad all at once?

“Okay,” Charlie said, her tone bracing. “Thanks for coming to the meeting, guys. Dean, you’re recording this so we’ve got a transcript for later, right?”

“Sure am,” Dean said.

“Castiel, you’re comfortable with that?”

“Of course,” Castiel said.

How could Castiel be sitting there? Just sitting there in front of his bookshelves, looking that good and talking and moving like a real person? Dean had spent so long after they’d stopped talking just thinking about Castiel, arguing with him in his mind, picturing what could have happened if things had gone better between them. If Dean hadn’t been wrong about the way that Castiel had felt.

But now Castiel was just there. Dean could yell at him, right now. He could ask him what had happened. He could demand to know if there had ever been a time when Castiel had wondered if there was something going on between them.

Or he could just sit back, and listen to Charlie and Castiel get started on talking about paint and sofas and styles of wooden flooring.

>> you’re not talking >> say something

Dean read the messages from Charlie in the chat and blinked, and tried to focus on the conversation. Castiel was explaining the initial thoughts that he’d had about their place, and how they could use the space. Dean made an attempt at being able to interject with something relevant. Castiel’s voice sounded so good in his ears. Seriously, the guy could read the phone book and Dean would be on one knee. How had he forgotten the way that Castiel’s mouth moved when he spoke? The shape of his lips?

>> earth to dean, what is going on

When the new message from Charlie came through, Dean frowned. He’d tried to talk, but it wasn’t working. Instead, he typed out,

>> he’s just still the same

He hoped the message would be enough of an explanation. He saw Charlie glance towards the chat, and then launch into talking about her own thoughts on how they could repaint the exposed brick in the kitchen. Castiel nodded along seriously.

“And a kitchen island,” Dean blurted out. Charlie and Castiel both stopped talking. Charlie rolled her eyes, while Castiel’s mouth flicked upward in a smile.

“Ah, yes. The kitchen island. Of course. There are a few options for the shape…”

Of course, Dean repeated in his mind. Of course.

He typed out to Charlie,

>> I think he remembered I want a kitchen island?

Castiel kept going, mentioning a few websites that he thought Dean might like to look at and then sending them in the group chat for everyone to see. Dean nodded at them, and made filler noises as Castiel talked some more about different countertops.

Dean pressed his lips together hard for a second. It was messing him up that Castiel remembered something so small about him as the kitchen island thing. Who remembered that about someone they didn’t think was special? Someone they didn’t actually care much about?

>> Dean?

Charlie’s message was simple. He must be looking upset. Dean steeled his jaw, swallowed hard, and typed back,

>> just wish we’d’ve worked out.

On the screen, Charlie’s eyes narrowed into the briefest of winces. She replied to Castiel, giving Dean the space to be quiet.

The rest of the call was uneventful, because Charlie made it so. Castiel shared a couple of pictures with the two of them, and they both nodded enthusiastically. For half an hour, they talked about fabric colours and feature walls and where to put the TV.

Dean spent most of the time thinking about the kitchen island, and Castiel’s hair, and what it had felt like when Castiel had ditched him.

“Okay,” Charlie said eventually. “You’ve given us a lot to think about. Loads of great stuff, Castiel. Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean said. Even those three words came out stilted and husky.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said, and looked as though he were going to say something else, but then didn’t.

“Dean’ll send you the transcript, just so we’ve all got it for reference,” Charlie said. “Okay. I’m gonna sign off now. Bye, guys!”

“Bye,” Dean said, hurrying to end the meeting with a click, not wanting to be faced with even a second of screentime with just himself and Castiel. He tapped to ring off, just as Castiel said,

“Goodb-”

Dean stared at the screen for several seconds, in the sudden quiet of his lounge. He looked around the room, trying to find some solace in the familiarity of his own place and his things, find the ground under his feet again. That had been Castiel.

They’d talked. They’d actually spoken.

He’d still been so –

So Cas.

Dean gritted his teeth. He knew where that line of thought and feeling went – somewhere Castiel didn’t want to go. Somewhere that would leave Dean on the end of a phone in the middle of the street with a pit in his stomach and a reservation at the nicest restaurant in town that no one was going to keep.

He clicked across his screen, grabbing the transcript and firing it off in an email to Castiel. There. Done. Finished.

––––––––

Two days later, Dean got an email from Castiel, to schedule a Zoom meeting.

“I told you,” Dean growled at Charlie over the phone. “I wanted to be the one hosting.”

“I know,” Charlie said. “But look, he’s got it all figured out. Can we just go along with it?”

Dean closed his eyes. No, he wanted to shout. No. I want to feel like I have a handle on this, even if it’s just the tips of my fingers. No. I need this –

He ground his back teeth together, and lifted his chin even though no one could see him.

“He better have some great suggestions for storage,” he managed.

And so here they were, three days after the first Zoom call, with Dean being the one to open up an invitation to a meeting, this time. As the screen loaded, he took a gulp of the beer he’d put into a mug. It was eleven in the morning, and he needed it.

He needed it through the discussion about the bathroom surrounds.

He needed it through the debate over curtain colours.

He needed it every time Castiel pulled a thoughtful face, or smiled, or licked his lips – god. Then, Dean drank twice.

“If that’s all,” Castiel said, “I have another call in fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect,” Charlie said. “And Dean, you’d better check the transcript for this one. I could see you spacing out over there.”

Dean opened his mouth to defend himself, and then realised every defence he could make was something that he couldn’t say in front of Castiel, and closed his mouth again.

“Fine,” he said mutinously.

“Great. Bye, guys!”

Dean rang off without a word.

He went and ate some food to settle himself. Once he had an entire plate of pasta inside him, he felt slightly more able to go back to his laptop and open it up and check his email. Sure enough, there was the transcript in a message from Castiel.

With a roll of his eyes, Dean opened it. If he didn’t, Charlie would start making all kinds of decisions about their new place without him – and through all of this awkwardness, he still wanted to be able to have a say in the decoration of their apartment.

Hello, began the transcript. Good to see you again thank you for coming can you both hear me well…

Dean read on a little way. At one point, Charlie started talking at length about the pattern she wanted on the wall in her bedroom, some kind of stencilled effect; Dean almost skipped ahead, but stopped and frowned. Intercut with Charlie’s speech were some messages – messages from Castiel.

>> Dean looks good today. >> Like he always does.

Dean felt a flush race from the top of his head to his toes, and then bounce back up. He read the messages over again, and then again, his eyes wide. Was – was this a mistake? Some kind of glitch? But the messages were right there, in black and white.

Castiel had thought that he… looked good?

As he stared at the screen, something caught his eye. Dean sat forward on his sofa, gripping his laptop as he scrolled down further. Another message.

>> I’ve missed him so much.

One hand raised involuntarily to cover Dean’s mouth for a second. How had he missed these messages when they came in? Dean read back over them once again, even more carefully, and felt a second rush of hot static go through him.

These weren’t messages to the group chat. These were private messages. Messages that Castiel had sent just to Charlie, during the call. Dean kept reading.

>> Ever since the last time we spoke, there hasn’t been one day that’s passed that I haven’t thought of him.

Dean swallowed hard. These – these weren’t casual messages, thrown into the conversation. These were – these were – Dean didn’t have the words for it. Were they true? Were they real? Surely not, how could they be?

>> Even when I’m not thinking about him, there’s always a part of me hoping he’ll call. And I hate phone calls. But I wouldn’t from him.

That was the last of them. Dean set down his laptop carefully on the end of the sofa. He could feel that his cheeks were bright red. His heart was racing. He was too – it was too much for him to be able to smile, or text Charlie, or even move.

What did he do now? Castiel had sent all those messages privately. Did that mean Dean had to pretend he’d never seen them? Dean grabbed suddenly for his laptop, pulled up a search browser and typed in Zoom call private messages printed transcript.

A few seconds of reading later, he set the laptop back down. His hands were shaking slightly. So, it was because Castiel was the host of the Zoom call that the transcript automatically put all his private messages in, as well as –

Dean stopped.

The transcript.

It printed out the host’s private messages.

This time, it had printed out Castiel’s messages. But last time –

Last time –

Dean dropped his head into his hands.

“No,” he said out loud.

He looked up, around his lounge. The lounge that had been the same after he’d seen Castiel again three days ago. The lounge that had been the same after Dean had seen Castiel’s private messages. And the lounge that was still the same, even now, when he realised Castiel had seen Dean’s.

What was it that he’d said? Something about Castiel being hot. And – Dean covered his face again.

“No. No. No,” he said. But he couldn’t make it untrue. Castiel had seen the message that Dean had sent to Charlie, wishing that things could have worked out between him and Cas.

The shame was like a punch to the gut. Castiel had been only too clear about his feelings in college, when he’d taken care to escape both the dates that they’d set up.

Except… except Castiel had read those messages, and he’d – Dean stopped trying to suffocate himself with his own hands for a second. Castiel had read those messages, and he hadn’t run away. He hadn’t awkwardly ignored them. He hadn’t asked Dean to stop.

He’d responded in kind. He’d sent an answer, of a kind.

Dean grabbed for his phone, and pulled up his messenger. He scrambled to find his chat with Charlie.

>> Charlie??

He hovered his thumbs over the screen. He couldn’t think of what else to say – but the response was immediate.

>> Call him >> Trust me

She sent a phone number.

Dean stared down at it, his mouth slightly open. Was this happening? Was any of this real? Before he could wake up from the dream, he tapped the number on his phone screen and hit Call.

The phone buzzed in his ear, just once, and then the call was picked up.

“Dean?”

The single word was so heavy, so weighed down with feeling, that Dean took a second to be able to respond.

“Cas,” he said.

There was a moment of quiet. Dean didn’t know how to breathe again. He seemed to keep forgetting.

“Got your messages,” he managed.

“I got yours,” Castiel said.

His voice was so good to hear – so good. But Dean was twisting up inside.

“Look,” he said wretchedly, “Cas, you gotta just tell me. Has something changed for you? About… about us?”

“Changed?” Castiel said. “No. Nothing’s changed.”

It was a blow. It was the sudden dousing of a spark of hope. Dean felt his chest go hollow.

“Oh,” he heard himself say. “Oh. Right.”

“But… something’s changed for you,” Castiel said. “Hasn’t it?”

“For me?” Dean managed to say through his dry throat. “No, Cas.”

“… Oh.”

Dean wanted to hit something. This – what was happening? Castiel – he’d read Dean’s messages – he’d sent those messages back the same way – but now it turned out Castiel still felt the same as he had in college, he still didn’t want to date Dean. How could he? Surely when he’d sent those messages, he’d have known what Dean would think?

What he’d hope?

“Um,” Castiel said. “I thought this would… I don’t understand. When you sent those messages, I thought it meant that you… that you felt…” His voice trailed off.

“You know how I feel,” Dean said, and the anger was burning through in his tone of voice. “I don’t get why you’d send those messages, if you didn’t… you know… the same. Feel. The same.” Anger gave way to awkwardness as his sentence stumbled.

“I sent them because I thought – I thought you felt – I thought you’d want them,” Castiel said. “When I read yours, I wanted to reply the same way, I… I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“You thought you’d save me from being embarrassed,” Dean said, “by making me think you liked me like that? When you don’t?”

“Liked you like what?” Castiel said, sounding startled over the phone. Dean made an actual grunt of frustration.

“Like… c’mon, Cas, really? Like that. Like, like like.”

“But I – I do,” Castiel said, so quietly that Dean barely heard it.

Dean’s chest seized.

“No,” he said. “No. You just said you still don’t feel that way.”

The hiss of static on the line was painful. But then –

“Dean, I’ve always felt this way.”

The noise Dean made was involuntary. He put his hand over his mouth again, just for a second, to try to catch it.

“You didn’t know?” Castiel said, and Dean knew him well enough to be able to picture the look of disbelief on his face. “But Dean, I… I thought you knew. I was so obvious.”

“Cas,” Dean said, “you ditched me for our first date. Twice.”

“What? You’ve never asked me out on a date.”

Dean’s mouth fell open.

“Are you kidding?” he said.

“Are you?”

“Cas, I asked you to meet me for dinner. I booked us a place. First time, you said you had to help someone with their homework. Second time, you said you got invited to go see a movie.”

“That – you – that was a date? No, I – I’d remember –”

“First time was right before midterms,” Dean said. “Second time was right after. You did homework with Meg, and then you went to a movie with Uriel.”

“Oh…” The penny seemed to drop. “But – no. That wasn’t a date, those weren’t dates – it was just going to be another group night… like we always had, with Charlie and Billie and everyone?”

“Group night? Cas, I booked us a fancy dinner, I was dressed up –”

“You didn’t tell me,” Castiel said.

“I invited you to dinner!”

“We were always asking each other to come over to eat together, and it was never a date,” Castiel said. “But – but it – but you – some of them were?”

Dean could feel his world crumbling. No – no, not his world. Just some parts of it. Just the spiky, painful, horrible part of it that had grown up twisted and aching because of Castiel ditching him.

“I thought you left me,” Dean said. “Twice.”

“I would never do that,” Castiel said. “You were the one who stopped talking to me.”

“I thought I had to be making you uncomfortable… trying to date you when you didn’t feel… but you would’ve – you would’ve said – yes?”

“If I’d known it was a date,” Castiel said, “I would have gone through Hell to get there.”

What could Dean say? All of these years of silence, all of the hurt, all of the worrying and thinking and arguing with a ghost, and the whole time Castiel would have said yes. He would have been there. He just hadn’t known. He tried to reach for words and nothing came. He tried to parse his own feelings but it was overwhelming.

“You didn’t say a word to me,” Castiel said. “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He stared around the static sameness of his lounge as though anything he saw there could possibly have the answers.

“I was wrong,” Dean said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so – I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel breathed out, a huff of static down the line.

Maybe it was broken, Dean thought. Maybe even though – even though they both – even still – maybe they’d broken it too much to fix it now.

“I could have tried harder to talk to you,” Castiel said softly. “I thought you must have figured out how I felt and decided you were better off dumping me. I could have tried to talk to you about it.” There was a pause, and then he said, “I’m sorry, too. Sorry I let you go.”

“You really… you really feel…” Dean couldn’t even put it into words. “I mean, those messages…”

“I said I missed you,” Castiel said, in that perfect low rumbling voice.

“I missed you, too.” It was so much truth in so few words that Dean felt his own voice give. “Cas, I… fuck. Is it too late now? For this?”

Castiel took a moment to answer.

“I’m surprised every day,” he said, “that I still want you just as much as I did on the day we stopped talking. I kept waiting for it to fade. Waiting for myself to finally realise you weren’t coming back. But it was like it didn’t matter. Like the time passing didn’t matter. Like it couldn’t touch us.”

Dean couldn’t smile. He couldn’t do it. Now was the time, if there had ever been one, but it was too much, way too much.

“I get it,” he said. “I get it. I want you too.” It rose in him like a rush of heat. “I want you so much, Cas.”

“I’m here.” A pause. “You can have me.”

“Fuck… Cas, I… I…” The sensation was only just starting to feel like happiness, a happiness so huge that it was devastating.

“When this is over…”

“Come on a date with me,” Dean said. “Cas, date me.”

It was silent on the line. For a second, Dean’s certainty wavered.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Now.”

“What?”

“Now.”

“But – we can’t – nowhere’s open, we’re not allowed to –”

“Now,” Castiel said. “We’re on a date. Right now. This is it.”

Finally, finally, Dean managed to smile.

“Okay,” he said. “Now.”

––––––––

A week later, Charlie sent him a text.

>> Haven’t heard from you in an entire twenty-four hours. Did I do good finding you a project?

Dean, on a Zoom call with Castiel, grinned down at his phone.

You did fine, he typed. You did good.

#whelvenwingsfic #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #thebloggerbloggerfun #online romance babeyyyyyy #I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to write fic about what's happening right now #but somehow this sort of helped

329 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

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.

2K notes · View notes