#and how they found a home and community and purpose in the white tower. like I GUESS I get it

[llycaons]

a single monologue from a side character about how he first met his dead friend was filled with more genuine pathos than any other scene in literally any of the 14 books. I can't remember any character talking so honestly and emotionally about how much they care about another in the entire goddamn series

#the reviews were so mean #'what it lacks in recognizable human emotion' bitch his lifelong friend and partner was murdered! he's tearing up! so am I! #incredibly grateful the show looked at the books and said. well these people all fucking stand stand each other #can't stand* #including the ones who are literally married #maybe we should uh make it so that our cast of characters experiences human emotions like love and friendship #the warders did not have relationships with each other at ALL in the book #but this goes to show what kind of people decide to do such a drastic thing as bond their life force to another human being #personally im still a little skeeved out by what is essentially a double suicide pact. what's the necessity #but showing how close the warders are and how many of them came from violent or abusive backgrounds #and how they found a home and community and purpose in the white tower. like I GUESS I get it #wot lb

[beyondthestarsspecevo]

Ants and Humans of Kepler 22B, a Beyond the Stars Alternate Timeline

In this universe, the humans from Venus kidnapped some ants for scientific purposes before they left their home.

When they landed in their new home of Kepler 22B, the ants escaped. Over the course of thousands of years, the ants would evolve into parasitic beings. Up to three or four ants would bite a human and then travel to their brain, where they would take control of all their motor functions. Overtime, the ants would rewrite the human’s DNA, turning them into a Mech. Mechs were twice as tall as humans, with an extra pair of limbs and various ant-like features. The mind of the human would still reside in The Mech, but it was the ants who were in control of all movements.

There were some humans with only one ant in them. These were the queen ants. Human hosts with a queen inside them would grow into massive biological structures known as Hive Towers. These structures would connect to each other, forming tunnels that could transport nutrients and allow different queens to communicate. The Mechs would live inside the Hive Towers.

At the center of every Hive Tower would be a massive white pillar that had once been the queen. The white pillar connected to the Hive Tower as a whole, allowing the queen to control all of the Hive Towers functions. The various tubes sticking out of the white pillar would transport pheromones through the Hive Tower and then emit them through spigots. This allowed the queen to send messages throughout the Hive Tower.

Overtime, ant mechs developed the ability to place ant eggs inside a human through a bite. Using this, the ants were able to spread throughout the world like a disease, converting every human they found.

The ants began realizing that a much better method would be to capture all humans and keep them in farms inside the Hive Towers. That way, they could be bred, and then transformed.

The Hive Towers developed specific parts that could inject eggs of queens into certain humans. These humans would then be taken outside so that they could turn into a new Hive Tower.

Eventually, the entirety of Kepler 22B was covered with Hive Towers. Inside them lived the Mechs, which could now have dozens of ants in them. Humanity on this planet were nothing more than cattle, with the ants forming civilizations by using their bodies.

The ants began to figure out how to purposefully mutate their human mechs- leading to all sorts of creations. There were the Tanks, massive Mechs with eight limbs that could carry Mechs from place to place. When fighting with each other, the ants would use Fighter Mechs, large Mechs with claws and wings.

This is all part of the alternate Drornia universe, a different timeline of the main Beyond the Stars universe.

#specbio #specevo #speculative evolution #scifi #sci fi art #worldbuilding

[greypetrel]

WIP Wednesday, pt. 2

Oh no, @scribbledquillz tagged me again!

Here's another WIP, Aisling suddenly insisted that she wanted the horrible cangiant silk, and some writing snippets of Dark Lady matters under the cut!

“It’s too quiet.”

“It’s been ever since you started your little adventure, you weren’t here to notice.”

“We had an advantage, when they didn’t know who I was, now… It’s too quiet.”

“Agree. You’re not going out there to do something about it, tho.”

“Something’s brewing up, Dor. I can feel it.” She huffed, shaking her head and going back to pacing the room.

They were alone in his private library, situated high in the main tower of the citadel. It was quiet, Dorian kept it in maniacal order, if a little gloomy after he painted it in deep gray and a dark, muted purple he seemed to favour. The windows tho opened up West, giving a nice view over the Ithilien, the river and Gondor right behind. On clear days, one could spot the white speckle of Minas Tirith in the distance, reflecting the sun, and the faint outline of the Mountains. Today wasn’t the day, but still the river flowed and sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight, as if nothing bad happened or was about to.

It must be nice being ad idea related to water. Going and coming and flowing in a cycle, and free.

She heard Dorian huffing louder, closing his book louder than necessary on purpose, to get her attention and silently communicating that he had enough of it. A screech of his chair against the floor, and he was up and stepping on the side.

“All right, spit it. What do you see?”

“Nothing much.”

“Leave the bullshit for Cassandra who still believes when you say that you’re fine or there’s nothing, please.”

He chided again. It was, probably, the only one who ever dared chiding her, treating her like an unruly, annoying child. It had always been like that: she could try and muster fear, act outraged with anyone, but with him. They had clicked so much because of this, and by now he was the closest person she got. His ring twinkled in the sun, as he approached a table in front of another window and started to traffic with a mortar and herbs, the smell of spices quickly filling the air.

“I mean it. It’s… I can see it. Something’s blocking me, my view is muffled. Like trying to glimpse shaped into mists, or when we fly through clouds. The more I prod, the blurrier it gets.”

“And this is…”

“… Not normal, no. Someone’s hindering me.”

“And it must be some other Maiar, to counter you directly. Do you think it’s…?”

“I…” She stopped, looking out of the window again, right hand coming to clutch her prosthetics. “… It’s a possibility. But what would he have to gain?”

Dorian grunted, irritated as every time their discourses fell on that particular topic. He was the angriest when he finally found her in Dol Guldur and discovered that she couldn’t grow back her arm, and as diplomatic as he could muster to be, he never was in that particular matter.

“Honey. We’ve built. We have something he never had, and if he gets his hands on your Ring…”

“The Hobbits are here somewhere. The magic of the Ring hides them well, from me and also from him. They’re safe.”

“If he’s-”

“It’s not him. It’s not his style. If he’s somewhere relevant, he’ll be in Minas Tirith or in Edoras, now.”

Of that, she was certain. Solas won’t spend time in chasing two hobbits down with a magic ring. He never was interested in her rings or her works… Not in that sense. He would have gotten the Ring from Isildur himself, otherwise. She sighed, heavily, regrets of ages closing down on her as her left started to itch as it met the prosthetic. Scratching it over the fabric of her sleeve didn’t really help.

“Isengard is moving.” He told her, quieter than before, coming to stand close to her and offering her a fuming cup of chai, smelling warm and earthy. A brew he got from home and was the only thing he could cook.

“How many?” Her fingers closed on the warm metal, and she inhaled its smell.

“Thousands.”

“Us or Gondor?”

“Too soon to know.”

That was terrible news. She sipped, the hotness of the liquid not bothering her much. She needed its warmth. It was something she had the first time when she met Dorian, but in the years it had come to mean home. As Dorian did. She needed it.

“Close the Black Gate. Tell Leliana to call her scouts back. No one is flying out of Mordor without my leave.”

“Consider it done.”

#dragon age #wip wednesday #aisling the dark lady au #greypetrel #I can see her true colours but they're A LOT

[biglisbonnews]

Knockdown Center in Queens, New York Tyler Myers never expected to find the crucible. The former projects manager for the Frieze Art Fair had construction workers jackhammering into the concrete floor of a 50,000-square-foot industrial space in Maspeth, Queens, that had lain fallow for roughly a decade. What started out as a straightforward plan to install bathrooms turned into an impromptu archeological dig.  “We start digging in the floor of the building and we find these troves of broken, blown glass, then we find these tunnels in the floor in the basement,” Myers recalls. At the heart of the octagonal chamber lay the immense iron crucible once used for melting silica at more than 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit.  Nearby were four lumps of discarded glass, roughly two by five feet each, in deep matte orange, navy, white, and navy. “If you can think of a clear marble with the swirls inside, it's very much those colors that we found in those big cleanups,” Myers says. It turns out, that’s exactly what they were. Back in 1902, this building originally housed the Gleason-Tiebout Glass Factory, which produced the bulbs for indoor gas lamps below its three towering smokestacks. At the time, the surrounding area of Queens and Greenpoint to the south was a hive of industrial activity dedicated to the five “black arts” of glass-making, printing, cast iron welding, ceramics, and oil refining. Decades later, the factory turned to producing glass marbles, before transforming into a space for the Manhattan Door Factory, best-known for producing knock down door frames. Since 2012, it’s been home to the appropriately named Knockdown Center, an interdisciplinary performance space that’s hosted everything from a “floating forest” art installation to a Carnegie Hall production of West Side Story. Yet even today, hallmarks of more than a century of history remain embedded into the space. Those blocks of colored glass, for instance, are still in that subterranean space, which now houses the techno club Basement.  “The architecture of the space, like a lot of buildings of its age, becomes a story of layers,” says Myers, now co-founder and director of Knockdown Center. “It’s very much the story of New York City. How many times has the city been built layer upon layer? Finding something of this scale and of that era that still was intact more or less is very unusual.” Excavating those layers unearthed nine full garbage cans of discarded glass, and the stories that came with them. “Early in the Knockdown Center’s life, we did a flea market and during one of those an 84-year-old gentleman called Frank showed up and said, ‘I got my first job here as a teenager blowing glass,’” Myers says. “I was stunned and immediately asked him to give me a tour of the building. I asked him, ‘What’s the deal with all this glass?’” It turned out that a particular trove of shattered blue-and-white globes were essentially the discards. How they wound up there was simple: the factory boss never looked at that particular spot. “If you blew something and you'd screwed up, you didn't want him to see it, you just chucked it out the window,” Myers says. Just as the original factory served the needs of its neighborhood, the current performance space aims to reflect the city’s current creative zeitgeist. Musical programming runs the gamut from Disco Tehran, which spins funk-forward tracks inspired by pre-revolutionary Iranian dance clubs, to blues to techno straight out of Berlin and Detroit.  “I think that there's a movement in nightlife away from sparkly Champagne bottles and more towards collective engagement,” Myers says. “I think with all old architecture, part of what makes it so interesting and for me, so appealing for new purposes is the way that the history of a place evolves based on the community that's there at any given time.” https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/knockdown-center

#factories #architecture #history #music #Atlas Obscura

[rootin-tootin-cum-shootin]

Copper and Iron

Synopsis: Y/N finds themself working as a volunteer in an experiment being done by a famous Robotics company. An experiment on a new AI program meant to allow their autonomous androids to have emotions. However what both Y/N and the researchers didn't anticipate was for their new experiment to fall in love with her human.

Ship: Hinata Hyuga x gn! Reader

Word Count: 9,320

Warnings: Yandere, Emotional abuse,Toxic Relationship, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Blood (from a broken nose)

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There are many factors that go into creating something truly magnificent. Often it takes ingenuity, a creative touch, patience, and a lot of perseverance. Not to mention bravery. Sometimes the creations are timeless, whether that be for a practical purpose like the invention of the light bulb or for a more spiritually fulfilling purpose like music. Despite this innovations such as these change form slightly as time progresses, however if one were to go back and look at something like a table from as far back as physical historical artifacts can be found, it can still be recognized for the purpose that it serves. Whether the table is made of plastic from 100 years ago or even Dysprosil from modern day. However none of that matters in the long run, because as previously stated time continues moving forward and so does innovation. It is very rare that the best inventions are ever made, after all the best creations are always the ones where eventually society can no longer live without them. Imagining a world where the thing an individual is most dependent on is missing, is quite often devastating. That is especially the case when it comes to the newest form of AI technology. And it is on that note that our story truly begins. 

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The towering building of Baseline Robotics™ glimmered as the rolling holographic advertisement displayed along the outside shifted to the customary greeting message as the doors unlocked before Y/N. Walking into the surprisingly empty lobby they immediately noticed that the interior decorations seemed to be going for a theme of alien hospital. Everything seemed to be white or a reflective silver and it was very nearly maddening in it’s sterility. However what caught Y/N’s attention was a stiff pure white couch that laid empty. It seemed like nobody had ever sat down on it, whether that be from fear of staining it or how uncomfortable it appeared to be was yet to be determined. Despite this observation Y/N sat down, albeit hesitantly. Soon people began to enter the building and walk down one of the two brightly lit hallways, turning either immediately left or the right while not a single person entered the large door at the end of the middle hallway.  

They had never been to Baseline Robotics™ as they never really saw a need to before now. AI was an essential part of society and for that Y/N was grateful that robotics companies existed. Without the people who can make the AI that is essential to daily tasks like driving, or customer service life would be far more difficult. And thus cities like Canphia wouldn’t exist. However recently Baseline Robotics™ had begun the shift from functional robots and computer programs to fully autonomous androids. Androids of course had already existed for a few years short of two centuries, but never had they ever looked so realistic. The only thing preventing them from being fully human was the lack of emotions. But since most androids were expensive and thus they were employed as nannies and maids in only the richest households. Being able to get angry or excited would make them neglect their duties and so nobody ever considered creating an android capable of emotions. And thus Y/N had never even considered going into the Baseline building. Besides what would a college student ever need with a robot servant. 

“Greetings! How can we help you today?” A robotic voice asked Y/N as it wheeled closer to them. 

“I’m here to answer the ad requesting volunteers for an experiment,” Y/N responded carefully.

“Follow me!” The robot chirped as it turned abruptly towards the hallway behind it, eventually both Y/N and the robot reached the door that nobody else had entered. The robot whirred softly as it unlocked the door in front of it,”Please enter and someone will be with you shortly.” 

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“Hello, you must be here for the experiment. I’m Researcher Ino, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The young woman was grinning excitedly at Y/N as she extended a hand towards them. 

Reaching a hand out to shake Ino’s Y/N introduced themself quickly before they were suddenly being taken down a hallway by conveyor belt. It led down a series of short confined hallways before abruptly opening up into a large production floor similar to the ones that create cars. 

“So Y/N before we get started with the paperwork I’d like to ask you some quick questions,” Ino hummed as she looked over the documents displayed on her Holo-Cast. 

“Go ahead Ino.” 

“Why did you want to sign up for this?”

“Well…” Y/N hesitated, to say they were embarrassed at their reasoning for signing up was an understatement, but figuring honesty was the best way to go they continued to speak. “I moved to Canphia about six months ago and it’s been very hard for me to make any meaningful relationships so most of my free time is spent alone at home. I figured that since I don’t really ever do anything I could dedicate my spare time to assisting the behind the scenes science that goes into creating the AI we depend on.”

“Is there anything in particular that’s been preventing you from making friends?” the researcher inquired pleasantly. 

“If you haven’t noticed yet I have a difficult time speaking Katlior so it’s harder for me to communicate.” Y/N confessed with a light shrug as they entered Ino’s office. 

“Well Y/N I believe that you will be a perfect candidate for the experiment. With your help we might be able to finally take the last step in advancing AI technology. Welcome to the team.”

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It had been eight months of working with Ino and Y/N was excited to finally see what all their work was being put towards. If someone asked them if their time spent in the labs was helpful, Y/N in all honesty would have answered no. All they did was take silly personality quizzes about themself and their relationships that inevitably lead nowhere interesting or have conversations with the same four bot programs. The strangest things that they encountered in the lab however were the days where Ino would sit with Y/N and eat a meal while they discussed normal things for two people who are getting to know each other, like hobbies, interests and ideal types of all things. And what made this the strangest of the lab days was the fact that Ino would always take notes during their conversations, so the conversations were always a little awkward. 

Nonetheless Y/N was excited as earlier today Ino had mentioned that they needed to come into the lab a day early. She wouldn’t tell them exactly why they needed to come in but she sounded very excited and that made Y/N excited. 

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By the time Y/N had arrived at Borderline Robotics™ Ino was very nearly bouncing off the walls from how exhilarated she was at what she was about to unveil to Y/N. When they walked in she immediately jumped on them, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders while talking a mile a minute. “Ah you’re here! I called you in because we’re finally ready to begin the next stage of testing, and I have a feeling you’re going to love exactly what this stage entails. So if you would follow me I need to brief you on exactly what you’re about to experience so you’re prepared for this breakthrough. Okay let’s go!”

“Ino where exactly are we going? Isn’t the lab the other way?”

“Yep but today we’re going somewhere else.”

“...I’m so confused,” Y/N shook their head as they walked down the otherwise silent hallway. Ino grinned as she unlocked a door leading to a spiraling staircase and ushering Y/N to follow her down. 

“We need to go to the lab with the highest security clearance today, after all it’s not every day where you get so far in creating the first autonomous AI with emotions. So yeah, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s what all the testing has been for Y/N. We want to be able replicate emotions in our autonomous AIs. So the information you gave us was used to create a personalized android based off of characteristics that you favored in the tests, and from that we created a personality for your android. She is as realistic as possible and fulfills the purpose you wanted, with a little extra thrown in too!” Ino was still talking very quickly and when combined with the endless winding of the staircase it served to only further disorient Y/N. 

Frustrated at their lack of comprehension on the topic Ino was babbling on and on about Y/N grabbed Ino's arm and stopped her both from talking and walking. “Ino please slow down, I'm not following. What purpose did I ever say I wanted an android for?” Y/N said exasperated. Ino blinked at them, her mouth falling into an open o shape. 

Looking away from them she flushed, when she spoke her speech had slowed down considerably, “Well you didn't explicitly say you wanted her to have a particular purpose but I assumed that you would like it if her purpose was to be a companion for you. You did say that making friends was hard due to your limited language skills so with her you would always have a friend. And on top of that we also gave her the ability to speak every known human language, so no matter where you go with her, she will always be able to help you with the language of that country.” She looked back at Y/N with a shy smile and continued, “She is going to be a complete sweetheart to you. I can tell you that, I programmed her personally. If all goes well with us fully waking her up, you and the other participants will all be able to take home your personalized android to continue testing. Our goal is to see if it’s possible to have an android with a near full range of human emotion that would allow them to do jobs that are stressful, dangerous and need careful action, while still maintaining the capability to de escalate and comfort those in need. Like… search and rescue paramedics or firefighters! And by having willing participants take the androids out and fully immerse them in day to day life, it will definitely prove if it’s possible.”

“What happens to her if the experiment succeeds? After it’s over I mean. Will she be scrapped?” Y/N said as they stared at the door at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Of course not Y/N-san, she would continue living just like how she was before the end of the experiment, minus all the mandatory testings she needs to undergo… Oh that reminds me, before I introduce you to her there are some things you need to know, you know rules and the like,” she said now slowly descending down the remaining stairs to the door.  Y/N now relieved at knowing what was about to happen when they entered the lab, followed after her, ready to listen intently to the rules they needed to follow.

“So first of all since this is an experimental form of AI you are going to have to bring her in biweekly for the first four months for little check ups, as there might be some problems with either the physical body she inhabits or glitches in her programming. If you happen to find any before the next check up feel free to bring her in before then, and we’ll fix her right up! Number two, she needs to be charged every 32 hours. She is able to use the solar panels embedded into her skin to self charge in direct sunlight but if she doesn’t get any direct sunlight and her battery starts to get low, then you will have to plug her in. Number three, while charging with the cord in she is not to do any energy consuming activities, so laying down or sitting are the best options. Light activity such as walking a very short distance is possible but not strongly advised, listening to music or watching children’s television shows will be fine, just make sure she won’t be processing any heavy amounts of information or moving too much. The last thing is less important for you to know but nonetheless, number four she is waterproofed so she is able to interact with water without being damaged. However just because she can wash dishes, walk in the rain and shower does NOT mean she can be fully submerged in water. So no baths or going scuba diving with her. Wading in a pool or lake is possible although not recommended.“

Y/N nodded sincerely as they programmed the instructions into their Holo-Cast so they wouldn’t forget them after leaving the lab, and despite their focus and serious diligence in recording the rules Ino could tell that they were excited. After all they were barely containing a smile as she opened the door to the room where the androids were all just awakening. Y/N looked up from what they were doing as Ino motioned for them to follow her into the room. 

Once in the room Ino quietly greeted her two fellow researchers as she guided Y/N past all the other pairings in the room and over to the single lone android. Ino stopped a few steps from where the android was sitting on the table, there was nothing on the table beside her but the blanket that at one point covered her body before her awakening. Disappointed but not surprised, Ino nudged Y/N forward to meet her while she went to go get the bag of the things the android would need, “Hinata, I have someone here to meet you.” She said, causing the android to turn her head and look at the pair. 

“Hello, I’m Hinata,” she said inquisitively. 

“Hello Hinata, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” Y/N responded enthusiastically albeit they did feel slightly uncomfortable due to the others around them already having extensive conversations.   

“Hi!!” Hinata said enthusiastically, she seemed to be a very bright and nearly childlike person and that made Y/N smile softly at her. They truly didn’t know what to say to Hinata and thus their conversations were short, and the silences between them long.  

Ino soon returned with a very large duffel bag and handed it off to Hinata’s waiting arms, “You’re going to be living with them from now on Hinata, that means you can leave the lab!” Hinata looked at Y/N intently and nodded slowly. She was starting to realize what the humans wanted from the other androids and she was wondering if Y/N was the same way. 

“Y/N one thing before you leave, feel free to bring her by anytime you want. We’d all love to see how you’re both doing. Okay?” Ino interjected as Hinata put on her jacket so the pair could leave. Y/N smiled graciously as they agreed to stop by sometime soon. And with that they left with Hinata in tow. 

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The pair were silent as they ascended the stairs, not a word was spoken between them until they got outside of the building at which point the bubble of awkward tension burst between them. Hinata reached out in a move that mirrored the one that Y/N did to Ino not even a half hour earlier. “What am I to you Y/N? I know all of us were created with a role in mind and I want to know the one you think I’m going to play.” Hinata said intensely, her eyes were locked on Y/N as she spoke. 

“It’s embarrassing to admit but I want you to be my friend. I moved here a year ago and despite spending time with my classmates after lectures I haven’t been able to make any real friends by myself due to a strong language barrier between us. I can understand if you-” 

Y/N had looked away from Hinata in shame while they spoke and they only looked back after Hinata’s once hard and quite frankly intimidating voice softened, “Do you really mean you want to be friends? You’re not going to make me into a servant or something?” 

Y/N blinked in shock at how quickly her attitude changed but nodded with a smile, "No Hinata, I’m not going to make you my servant. I want to be friends, although in all honesty I wouldn’t mind if you help with chores sometimes…” They trailed off as Hinata laughed brightly. She intertwined their hands and swung them back and forth as they walked away from Baseline Robotics™. 

“Can we go to a zoo? I want to see a real life hippopotamus Y/N!” Hinata asked excitedly. Y/N nodded as they giggled, Hinata was just so full of wonder at everything and it was endearing. 

“Of course we can Hinata, you little sweetheart.” 

They hadn’t gotten more than a block away when Y/N’s Holo-Cast lit up with a call from Ino. It was strange that Ino was calling them so soon after leaving but thinking it might be important Y/N picked up the call. As soon as they hit the receive option Ino’s frantic voice was heard, “Oh thank goodness you’re okay! You need to bring Hinata back here right now for deactivation befo-” 

“Deactivation? Ino what the hell are you talking about? Hinata hasn’t done anything to me other than hold my hand,” Y/N said while looking at Hinata who looked just as confused. 

“The other androids, they just... flipped out all of the sudden and attacked the volunteers. Most of the humans were sent to the emergency room from the damage the androids caused. We were supposed to have a program put in that stopped them from harming their humans unless they were in direct danger but the volunteers were all just trying to leave to go home and the androids just went crazy unprovoked… Y/N are you sure Hinata isn’t going to-” 

This time Hinata cut Ino off, “Why would I ever want to hurt my friend Researcher Ino? We are even going to the zoo together, I really want to see a real life hippo! Please don’t take me away from Y/N, i really like them… ” Hinata was pouting at the idea of not getting to spend time with her new best friend when they had met. 

Ino paused her pleas as she realized that Hinata must have not seen Y/N as a threat judging by the behaviour Y/N described and the way that Hinata spoke of them. 

In shock from Hinata at all but admitting that she would have lashed out in anger had their conversation gone differently,  Y/N looked at the small form of Hinata who was now crouched down and cooing at a pigeon, having been distracted from the conversation at hand by the small avian’s appearance. “She doesn’t seem to want to hurt me,” Y/N thought, “And if she was going to do it she would have done it when everyone else did. Plus she acts a lot like a child, so I doubt she would do it now.”

Ino sighed, “It’s your limbs that are at stake here. Fine, if you feel safe, then...carry on your way then.” 

The last thing Y/N saw before the call ended was Ino shaking her head in disbelief. With a chuckle Y/N called out to Hinata, “You heard the woman! Let’s roll out.”

“Okie Dokie!” Hinata affirmed, reaching for Y/N’s hand once more. Swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walked to the zoo.

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Two weeks later Y/N and Hinata went in for the first scheduled check up, where amazingly Ino found the same abnormalities in her code as the other androids displayed; and yet she still didn't attack Y/N. Outwardly there was no evidence of violent tendencies anywhere in Hinata. “But the code doesn't lie, so what made her refrain from attacking Y/N?” Ino thought aloud as she watched the physical portion of the check up from a safe distance. 

Everything seemed to be going how it should be going and despite the excitement her colleagues were showing at having a working android, Ino thought that she needed to be deactivated like the others or at least reprogrammed.

When the other researcher finished with Hinata, Ino got an idea. The best way to find out a person's reasoning behind their actions is the simplest way. To ask them. She took a deep breath and walked over, rehearsing what she'd say in her head on the way over. Putting a hand on Hinata’s shoulder Ino carefully asked her the question all the while trying to not to give away her true intentions. 

“Hello Hinata I'm happy to report that the physical evaluation shows you are in perfect condition, Y/N must be taking good care of you," That got a smile and a pleased nod from the android. Ino patted her shoulder and continued, "But I do have a question for you in regards to your code. You see when we were looking at your coding today during the psych testing, we found the same anomaly that caused the other androids to attack their human volunteers, in you, and yet you were the only one not to attack anyone. So I figured I'd ask you what all us researchers were thinking, why didn't you attack Y/N?” 

“They wanted me to be their friend, and I wanted to be their friend too! Friends don't hurt friends Ino,” Hinata said cheerfully. She looked towards Y/N like a child looking to their parent for affirmation of their good behaviour. Y/N smiled at her and squeezed her hand as they watched Ino take notes. 

“Well as much as I would like to take out that particular section of code that created the violent behavior, I have been ordered by the higher ups to leave it in as they don’t want to potentially compromise Hinata. Plus if she says she’s not going to act on it, I suppose we'll just have to trust her," Ino gave a good natured smile directed at Hinata before continuing, "However I will implement a tell that would allow you, Y/N to see if she's getting to a state where she would act violent.” Ino said as she plugged some of the cords that were laying next to the table Hinata was sitting on into the nape of Hinata's neck; quickly pulling out a tablet, Ino typed out a sequence of numbers and letters before setting the tablet back down. Turning back to the pair she grinned, "and now we wait for it to upload, Hinata just make sure to lay down otherwise your balance could get a little wonky. You'll undergo a quick recalibration of the senses and all that, and then you're free."

Hinata nodded and laid down carefully, Y/N kept a hand on her back to help guide her down. Their face betrayed a look of shock and a hesitation that looked closer to fear than worry to Ino as by now Hinata's eyes had turned a milky white to allow for the update to her code to complete.

"Don't you worry about the eyes Y/N, that's supposed to happen. Any update to her code or recalibration of her senses will limit her sight in order to not overwhelm her in the process.  You probably haven't had to charge her using the cord yet but you'll notice her eyes will do that when charging as well."

Y/N shook their head, shaking the image of Hinata sitting in a dark room looking limp with wires coming off her body and her eyes as empty as a corpse. In a quick attempt to permanently banish the thought from their brain they looked at Ino and spoke once more. “And what is the tell you put in, Ino? You're being very vague…” Y/N inquired, wary.

Ino handed Y/N a sheet of paper as she spoke, “Her hair will lighten when she’s in a bad mood, and darken when she's in a good mood. The lighter it is the worse her mood is, the darker her hair is the better her mood is.  If she's sad, it will have blue in it. And embarrassment will create a pink tinge to the tips of  her hair. Both of the last two are because she has no fluids to convey those types of emotions, and with plenty of deliberation between the researchers we determined they’re both essential." 

Y/N was not convinced that this whole "tell" thing wasn't a predetermined plan instead of the on the fly programming that Ino was trying to make it look like it was. After all why else would she have a sheet of paper already printed off with a comprehensive guide to the colouring of Hinata's hair? 

Realizing that Y/N had caught on, Ino hurriedly got Hinata unhooked so that the pointed look Ino was being given wouldn’t turn into another question, "Okay you are both ready to go, see you in two weeks.

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“Y/N can we watch Iron Man again? Pretty please?” Hinata whined. 

“No, but only because you were whining again. Remember what we talked about Hinata, we don't whine to get what we want.” Y/N chided as they put on their coat. 

Hinata slumped down in the chair, she was disappointed in herself for making Y/N upset at her again. She was really trying to act more sophisticated and not like a toddler but everything was so new to her and she wanted to see it all, but it was just so hard to curb her enthusiasm for life when her wants were sidelined to more important things. But she would have to try harder so that Y/N wouldn’t be upset at her anymore. 

“Hinata! Sweetheart, I know you’re sulking out there. Get up and come put your shoes on so that we can go out, my friends are waiting for us at the restaurant and I don’t want to be late,” Y/N called out from in front of the door. Standing up, Hinata smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes and walked over to where Y/N stood. 

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“Hello Sakura. How are you?” Y/N stood with Hinata beside them as they greeted the back of a person. 

  The woman turned to face Y/N as if she was surprised that they had spoken to them, when she locked eyes with Y/N she immediately began to smile. Sakura stood up, her short pink hair bouncing as she pulled Y/N into a hug,“Y/N! There you are, it felt like you were never going to meet up with us again. Sai and I were missing you.” After pulling away she looked at Hinata and spoke again, “Who’s this Y/N?”

Y/N grabbed Hinata’s hand as they spoke, “This is Hinata, she’s my friend and roommate.”

Hinata was pleased by finally being acknowledged by Sakura, she smiled timidly and waved at the girl, the ends of her hair shifting to a rosy pink , “It's nice to meet you Sakura.” Her voice was gentle when she spoke, she really wanted to appear as mature and polite as possible so that Y/N would be even more happy, so she let Sakura tug her down into the seat next to her. 

Y/N sat across from her and immediately turned to talk to the person next to them. His voice was deep when he spoke and had a strange way of pronouncing Katlio that led Hinata to believe he must be foreign, and therefore probably the Sai that Sakura mentioned. 

Sai had fully black eyes and his arms were covered in slowly morphing tattoos. Hinata was shocked, she didn't know that humans could come out like that, it made her feel very strange, she couldn't quite place the emotion she was feeling when she saw the human.

What she did know was she absolutely hated the way that Y/N was looking at him. 

“Examining his tattoos Hinata?” Sakura teased from beside her, “They are really cool I will admit. But still tell us about yourself. Where are you from, how did you meet Y/N, you know all the good stuff.” She tossed her hair as she spoke although it didn't go very far due to its cropped length. 

Y/N spun their head to look at Hinata directly in the eyes, they were silently pleading with her to not reveal that she was an android. Hinata didn’t like knowing she had to lie but she understood that she needed to do it to keep Y/N happy. So after sending a reassuring smile to Y/N she turned back to Sakura. Carefully and with practiced grace, as if she was a spider moving across the strands of it’s web to trap a still fluttering butterfly, she began to spin her lie, “Well…it’s not a very exciting story guys. I was born in Canphia but moved away when I was really young. I recently came back to the city and the two of us met through a mutual friend not too long ago and we hit it off. Y/N asked if I wanted to be their roommate after they found out I was looking for a place.” Hinata shrugged nonchalantly after she spoke, Sakura seemed pleased with her answer and thus turned her attention to Sai. Hinata immediately looked over at Y/N with the hope that she did a good job. 

Y/N smiled at her in relief and thinking she looked a lot like a puppy reached over and ruffled Hinata’s hair. So far, having Hinata around was going really well for Y/N because even though they still weren’t the best at Canphia’s unique language they got confidence in knowing that they had someone who would always be able to help them out. 

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When Y/N and Hinata arrived home from the diner, Hinata grabbed Y/N’s hands and stopped them from going inside the apartment. When they looked at her in confusion she giggled nervously, the tips of her hair going light pink for the second time that day, “I saw something in a drama and I want to try it. May I Y/N?” She tilted her head in inquisition and waited for their answer. 

“As long as it’s not going to hurt anyone then sure,” Y/N responded. 

Hinata smiled at them, went up on her tiptoes and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on Y/N’s forehead, “It’s not because I love you, it’s because I love only you. If it’s not you then I won’t have anyone else.” When she pulled away she was smiling very brightly, she had been wondering why the men in movies always did this sort of thing to people they like, but after doing it herself, she could completely understand why. It felt really nice to show affection like that, so much so that it created a small fluttering deep inside her chest.

After a beat of stunned silence Y/N blinked repeatedly at her as they spoke, “Are you quoting an old romance drama at me? Remind me to no longer watch sappy shows with you.” With a good natured eyeroll that Hinata could tell wasn’t genuine annoyance, Y/N dragged her inside. 

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Hinata and Y/N had been meeting up with Sai and Sakura every Saturday for months now and although the number of people who attended, the food ordered and the conversations had were always different, the one thing Hinata could expect during these times was to be ignored by the group of humans and only used as a translator by Y/N. She was always kept at an arm's length and unless she forcefully inserted herself into the conversation nobody would seem to notice she was even there, not even her best friend and roommate, the beautiful shining and incredibly social butterfly, Y/N. 

They used to do almost everything together. From grocery shopping and cleaning, to going out to the movies Hinata and Y/N were inseparable, no matter what they were doing they would always make it fun. Nothing was done around each other without trying to make the other laugh. Throwing popcorn, random tickle fights and long cuddle sessions on the couch when Y/N had a stressful day. Hinata cherished all of the moments they spent together, but now Hinata was not sure Y/N felt the same. 

But then it changed.

Soon Hinata practically had to beg for a simple good morning from Y/N. They had been coming home from school and immediately retreating into their room. They didn’t come out for anything and the light would stay on until very late into the night. Hinata tried everything to get their attention and yet no matter what she did none of it mattered because they never saw it. It was like she didn't even exist to her butterfly anymore. 

Afterall what is the spider who must stay grounded on her web to the butterfly with the freedom to explore not only the skies but the world below.

She even had to go to her last biweekly checkup without them, and those days were always spent together no matter how busy Y/N was. 

Then just that morning Y/N had asked Hinata to come with them to lunch and she was ecstatic, she dressed up nicely and did her hair just the way Y/N liked it. Soft bangs styled to frame her face, with the rest of her hair cascading down her back,  it was perfect for them to run their hands through, but that same hair which was normally a deep purple, nearing black was now a striking platinum blonde. 

She was at one point during the walk to the diner, hopeful that her relationship with Y/N would go back to normal and yet here she was still being ignored after months of the same torture over and over again. And any hope of waiting for things to go back to normal was crushed as the new guy, Neji wrapped his arm around Y/N's waist. He had been flirting with Y/N the whole time and what was making it positively intolerable was the fact that Hinata had to keep translating the flirtatious comments to Y/N. 

And what made it worse were the reactions Y/N gave. With every laugh and turn of their head to hide their flustered face, or the casual touches that Y/N would reciprocate Neji’s advances with, Hinata felt a sharp pain in her chest. Like a knife being shoved in and twisted. Hinata was starting to resent her creators for giving her the capability to feel. What exactly she was feeling was a mystery to Hinata but she knew that it hurt. It hurt a lot.

After over an hour of being positively miserable Hinata had finally had enough. Abruptly standing up she stormed out of the diner. As she left she accidentally knocked over the chair she was sitting in and the clang of the metal chair hitting the floor caused the conversation at her table to screech to a halt. 

 Y/N was extremely embarrassed by her behavioural changes and they apologized for Hinata. Excusing themself, they picked up the chair as they left, catching the door before it shut, thus the bell failing to ring again. When they got outside they were greeted with Hinata leaning against a light post while pouting. Normally Y/N would have simply talked to Hinata about her terrible behavior but they had never seen her hair such a stark white before. Sure they'd seen her hair a light brown or even a natural looking blonde but never white, immediately getting concerned and scared, Y/N walked around to the diner's alleyway where they could still see Hinata while not allowing her to see them. Y/N commed Ino on their Holo-Com to make sure she was available for an emergency visit. 

Hinata was even more miserable now, she was alone in the middle of the day and she had nothing to do. Now she couldn't even send dirty looks to that Neji guy who kept flirting with her Butterfly. The street was mostly silent save for the passing of vehicles along the road, which was a blessing. At least she had the quiet rhythm of the late afternoon traffic to help calm her down. Brushing her now blue bangs out of her eyes, she started to count the cars passing her on the street. At least that would give her something to think about other than Y/N and that stupid human man flirting with each other.

Behind her the door to the diner opened up, the bell above the door rang and soon the sound of footsteps followed. Whoever it was moved towards where Hinata was standing, watching the movement along the busy street. The footsteps stopped behind her and immediately Hinata knew who was standing there. 

“Hey Himiko right? After you left Y/N followed, have you seen them? I just want to see how-” Neji cut himself off as Hinata slowly turned around, something wasn't right with her eyes. They were soulless, empty, and not at all human. Neji staggered back as Hinata began to smile, a smile that didn't reach past her lips. 

Hinata walked towards Neji, enjoying how he was trying to pretend he wasn't scared of her. In a split second of panic Neji wound up and punched Hinata in the throat only to be met with something rock hard that hurt him more than it hurt Hinata. But that was all Hinata needed. In the blink of an eye Neji was on the ground, his nose broken and bloody. 

Y/N was watching this from around the corner in shock. Hinata with her snow white hair had just sent a man crashing to the ground with blood pouring from his face. She stood over the now unconscious Neji, blood dripping from her knuckles. Y/N was shaking in fear when Ino picked up the com they had sent. 

“Come here now,” Ino said before hanging up.

Y/N nodded and walked toward where Hinata was. They stood beside her and offered their shaking hand. “Hinata how about we go for a walk together okay? To clear our heads, maybe we'll go see our friend Ino.” Y/N said tensely. At this point Sakura had seen Neji and was rushing out to go help him thus Y/N felt comfortable leaving him. 

Hinata on the other hand was excited, she hadn't seen Ino in a while and her Butterfly wanted to spend time with her again. Clasping their hand in hers, they began to walk toward Baseline Robotics™. Y/N wanted to vomit due to the sticky feeling of Neji's blood on their hand.

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“So you're concerned because her hair turned white after you spent over an hour using her as a translator so that a guy could successfully flirt with you? And then she punched the same guy who was flirting with you after already being incredibly annoyed by him. Y/N you realize how ridiculous that is right? Hinata did that because she was jealous and didn’t know better than to lash out physically, especially since from what you said he threw the first punch. That registered to her coding as an immediate threat, so of course she removed the threat by incapacitating him,” Ino said as she sipped her smoothie. With a chuckle she set her drink down and motioned to Hinata who was playing with one of the robotic hands on the table while listening in.

“Y/N we made Hinata specifically so that she could emulate human emotions while still being fully autonomous. You have to remember, she's comparable to a puppy, she has you and that's about it at the moment. She probably feels very protective of you since she doesn't know anyone as well as she knows you, and because of that she is very attached to you. So when you bring her places with you and then ignore her in favour of other people it irritates her. Just like how you'd feel if the person you love was ignoring you constantly. She may have copper wires instead of iron in veins but she is essentially human so treat her that way. Then everything will be fine and you won't face that problem again. Okay?” 

Y/N nodded relieved and mildly embarrassed, walking over to Hinata who was listening intently to the conversation. “I-... I think that I owe you an apology Hinata. How I treated you today was unfair, and I swear I won’t allow it to happen again. Come on sweetheart let's go home, we can watch your favourite movie and cuddle, just… let me make it up to you?” Y/N said as Ino's words replayed over and over in their head. 

Hinata grinned widely, her hair slowly darkening at the roots, turning her whole head black once more, the bangs however still remained tinted blue, but in the dimmed light of the lab it was near impossible to notice. She dropped the disembodied arm and grabbed for Y/N’s hands and as the pair made their way home one thing in particular about what Ino said stuck out to Y/N. Did Hinata really do that to Neji because she was in with love Y/N? Y/N didn't really believe it, after all why would she, they were friends.

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Another lunch over and Hinata was excited to go home so she and Y/N could hopefully watch a movie together. Over the course of the week Hinata had been formulating a plan, a plan that she carefully acted on all throughout that day’s lunch meet up. She was just waiting for Y/N to come out of the washroom so they could leave when Sai and Sakura came over to say goodbye after lunch. 

“Hey Hinata before we go, we wanted to remind you to tell Y/N that next week we’re going to eat lunch at the cafe closer to campus. Oh and one more thing... thank you for giving us our Y/N back.” Sai said with an uncharacteristically soft voice before Sakura managed to drag him over to her bike.

 Hinata's hair lightened in the blink of an eye at the comment Sai made, she was on the verge of starting to scream at the pair when the familiar voice of Y/N interrupted her, “What did they say about me? I heard my name but couldn’t quite catch anything else” they asked sweetly. 

She plastered on a fake smile and shook her head, “You don’t want to know.” She laughed awkwardly and held out a hand for Y/N to take. Y/N frowned and took hold of her hand as they walked back home. 

“What. did. they. say. Hinata.”

“They told me that I was ‘too good to be stuck hanging around’ you,” Hinata sighed deeply, really uncomfortable with saying it.

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Y/N had been getting more and more suspicious of Hinata with every weekly lunch meetup. It seemed as though every time that Y/N didn’t understand a remark made about them during those times Hinata would frown and look away as if she was in pain. If they pressed her to say what she'd heard she would confess that the people they were with were insulting them. At first they didn't believe it but now they were starting to believe her, since they stopped getting invited group activities with their so called friends.

Y/N was actually getting lonely from the lack of contact they were getting in the brief amount of time they were actually invited to go and meet with friends. But the greatest sting was when not even a week after their exams finished, the people that Y/N thought were friends had ditched them. And the one person they thought they could rely on was being distant.

It was getting harder to fall asleep every night as the hole in their chest just kept eating away at Y/N, telling them that all their worst fears were true. They had cried themself to sleep as many as six times in the past two weeks. The worst part however was just how exhausting the isolation had become.

The clock read 3:45AM and Y/N was just starting to fall asleep when a loud crash was heard from out in the living room. Thinking it was an intruder, Y/N immediately thought of Hinata and how valuable she would be if some devious rival to Baseline Robotics™ had found out about her existence. Leaping out of bed in a panic to protect her, Y/N grabbed a heavy book and slowly crept their way into the kitchen. The noise continued while Y/N made their way to where the sounds were originating from. Once in the kitchen they continued to creep forward into the living room where they flicked the lights on ready to attack the intruder; only to see Hinata now standing over a now completely decimated roomba. 

“Hinata? What the hell are you doing to our roomba!” Y/N whisper yelled, Hinata only pouted in response and raised her leg presumably to stomp on it again. With a sigh Y/N put the book down and looked at Hinata in the eyes, they were fed up with life, exhausted, angry and very willing to take it out on her, “I'm going to ask you this one more time. What the fuck. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing?” 

Hearing the anger in Y/N's voice Hinata lowered her leg and the colour blue creeped into her hair, “I missed you and I wanted to see you again without having to be around those... humans,” she said softly. 

“But what does that have to do with the roomba, which, need I remind you, is nothing but a vacuum?” Y/N whisper-yelled, they were so very confused.

“Because you love it more than you love me,” Hinata screamed. She paused and ran a hand through her deep blue hair in an effort to calm down before she spoke again “Ever since you got it months ago you've been ignoring me, you said when we first met that you wanted to be friends. Now you ignore me unless you want to go see those humans you call friends when all they do is insult you to your face when they know you can't understand them. I hate the fact that despite being used as nothing more than a translator by you, I still can't find it in me to stop loving you… You're my whole world but I know I'm not yours and that scares me. I'm scared that you will leave me all alone…” Hinata hung her head, if she could cry, she would have. She walked off into her sparsely decorated room and shut the door with a heavy sigh. 

Y/N was left alone once more and as they stood in the oppressive silence of the living room, they realized just how much they messed things up. Their priorities clearly hadn't been straight in a very long time and instead of being the person Hinata needed, they were selfish and used her. “But even though all that, she still cares for me…” Y/N said in muted shock, a hand rushing to cover their mouth, it was sickening to realize, and Y/N’s stomach lurched at the thought. They attempted to look at the floor but everything blurred as their eyes filled with tears. All those feelings of abandonment, of isolation, of loss and desperation; like a butterfly desperately searching, flying high and low to find a particular flower to feed off of, these past few weeks could have been avoided if they had simply looked to their side where Hinata was waiting for them. Hinata, the shy violet that was consistently rooted in Y/N’s life even when they willingly became blind to her.

 Y/N didn't see it before but they truly did love her more than anyone else. And all that it took to come to this realization was facing the potential loss of the only person to still love Y/N even after countless weeks of neglecting both Hinata’s emotional needs, and their own. 

With a newfound determination they looked towards where Hinata's room was. The hallway leading to the bedrooms was still dark but despite this Y/N traversed it with the familiarity of their many months with each other, they needed to make right what they nearly completely messed up. 

Knocking on Hinata's door Y/N called out to her, “Hinata, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I want to apologize to you, I haven't been treating you very well recently and I'm so sorry for that. I got so excited by the idea that I would end up with more friendships than before and I ended up using you. I realize now that I made a huge mistake. The people who I wanted to impress the most turned their backs on me and instead of spending time with you I became a recluse. Everything I thought I knew about the people I cared about was a lie. And I've been so damn blind to all the signs around me that even though I knew that you loved me, I never even realized that this whole time, I loved you back. Avoiding you even though you were the only person who was ever truly my friend was the biggest mistake I could have ever made. And I did it… I don't expect you to forgive me… I just- ... I just really want you to know that I am so sorry for how I've treated you, I never deserved to have someone as kind as you in my life.” 

Y/N's face was hot with shame as tears rolled down their cheeks. Their strength was suddenly missing from their legs and they slid down the wall next to her bedroom door that they had been using as a crutch. 

When the door opened Y/N heard soft whimpers that weren't their own, in the doorway stood Hinata looking like she was on the verge of tears. Everything was silent for a moment as the pair just stared at each other. Y/N knew that in that moment if Hinata could cry, she would have been.

“I-I forgive you Y/N. But y-you have to promise me th-that you won't do that to me ever again. I would never leave you all alone, so if you're feeling upset you could always talk to me. Just don't shut me out again okay?” Hinata hiccupped. She knelt down and put her head on Y/N's shoulder and an arm around their side as tears continued to make their way down Y/N's cheeks. “One more thing… I want you to say that I'm yours. Like they do in all the dramas.” she said gently, she wanted to improve the mood somehow and at the moment that seemed to be the best way to do it. 

“I will, but only if you're going to do the same,” Y/N murmured as they clung onto Hinata's pyjamas. 

Hinata's arms reached around and pulled them into a warm and tender embrace, allowing Y/N to take comfort in finally seeing that they were not alone at all. The duo stayed just like that until Y/N became tired enough that they fell asleep, their hand still bunched up with a fistfull of Hinata’s nightgown. 

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When the beginnings of the golden light of the sunrise entered their apartment Hinata couldn't help but look down at her sleeping lover. They looked so peaceful, so sweet, so pretty, so delicate, just like a little butterfly; lying there with their head on her lap as they clutched onto the hem of her nightshirt in their sleep. Hinata wanted to live in that moment forever. The warmth of the sun hitting her face made her feel energized and the soft fluttering feeling was back, much stronger now, like the beating of one thousand pairs of wings. This time it filled her up so completely she imagined that she had lots of little birds flying through her chest.  As silly as it sounds, to Hinata anything and everything felt possible in that moment. 

It was wonderful, although a small dark flicker passed through her mind. She didn't let it affect her pleasant mood though, after all she did spend so much time carefully weaving her little web. It had taken months for her to carefully weed out the people who were taking her Butterfly from her. Hours upon hours of listening to meaningless conversations, waiting for a phrase that could be twisted around to become insulting or demeaning and then relaying that information back to Y/N in her native tongue. And all of it so that they would realize that she was the only person for them. They didn't need anyone else if she was by their side. 

It was so adorable that they maintained their naïvety throughout their life, but it was also just as dangerous. If she was able to manipulate Y/N so easily then who else would see that and try and take them away from her. Especially because they fell for every word she told them hook line and sinker without suspecting anything at all.

“Yes it is far safer for them to have only me,” she thought as she stroked Y/N's cheek with her thumb. And yet it still weighed heavily on her mind, afterall she was taught that lying to the people she cared for was very, very bad. She didn't like that she was forced to do such a thing to the person she loved more than anything else, but plenty of relationships where one person lies to the other work in movies. After all love is stronger than everyone and everything that would attempt to get in the way of it. Hinata knew that they would be an example of this now that she finally had Y/N all to herself. 

Hinata hummed a soft tune as she picked up Y/N to put them in their bed. They were soon gently slipped under the covers with it, tucked snugly around their body. 

Sitting next to them for a moment Hinata lingered a while, they looked positively delectable afterall. Irresistible in fact. So gathering what courage she had and mixing it with that light floaty sense of contentment she felt, Hinata leaned down and with a soft smile kissed Y/N's forehead as they slept. Torn between wanting to surprise them when they woke up and staying to watch them as they slept; eventually after much deliberation the android stood up to go make them breakfast.

Savouring the moment for a little longer she pet Y/N's cheek fondly, as she thought aloud, “Ino was right, we aren't so different at all. In fact we are perfect together. Copper and iron.”

#hinata hyuga #hinata hyuuga x reader #yandere naruto #yandere hinata hyuga #yandere naruto x reader #neji gets f*cking decked #yandere x reader #naruto reader insert #ino yamanaka #naruto au #gn!mc #gn!reader #gn! mc x hinata

[reynie-muldoons]

'The Art of Conveyance and Round-Trippery' Liveblog!

Sorry this is a few days late!! I moved across the country this weekend, we drove like 13 hours within 2 days and we did a lot of heavy lifting. I'm exhausted, but the boxes are slowly emptying and I've been wanting to watch this episode so gd bad, so LESGO

Over halfway through the season!!!! That's absolutely surreal

1:11 oooh they're getting their royal fitting

1:22 LMAOO WTF 😂😂 Princess Diaries vibes

1:42 ✨CONFIDENCE✨

1:52 Alfonse is a perfect name for that guy HAHA

2:05 Nathaniel, my guy, you've made some points

2:11 "do you feel your power?" POWER RANGERS, GO

2:24 no no hesitation just prolly thinkin bout how he was caught cheatin

2:39 "can you not allow yourselves luxury?" okay fr I feel that I get Nice Things Guilt(tm) too easily

2:52 dayummmm let's talk about Sticky being a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, mans is brave as fuck under extreme pressure and loyal to the point of putting himself on the line

3:15 bro Sticky getting some recognition. Love to see it, he deserves it

3:19 "is that a coincidence? Or written in the stars?" IS DR. CURTAIN CATCHING ON THAT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER BEFORE OR LIKEEEE

3:49 WHAT WORD AROUND CAMPUS 😭😭😭 MY BOYS ARE NOT A MISTAKE HOW DARE YOU

4:09 why doess the action of Dr. Curtain putting the sash on them seem so nefarious

4:36 I dont really understand the whole pastel yellow, blue, and pink palette of the school but the boys both look pretty okay in their vest-sash getup

4:42 THE OPENINGGGGG. This shit slaps.

5:41 Kate and Constance look so fucking cute in that shot, dont ask me why but hnnggggg

5:54 sash rope 😂😭 kate, honey, that's a reach

6:09 it might feel buttery, but, my guy, it also looks buttery. It's literally the color of butter. Get yourself some crisco

6:24 I find it kinda interesting that they made up new riddles for the show, I'm almost positive that that one wasn't in the book. Correct me if I'm wrong though

7:03 "I'm not gonna apologize for knowing things" the sass. the ✨confidence✨. living for it

7:03 If they build on that it sets Sticky up really nicely for the arc in the second book where he starts to show off a little

7:15 tiny Constance who is constantly dressed in pink with cute little braids is the perfect medium for the most morbid comments 😂😂

7:55 Martina's hot in her uniform. Can't prove me wrong.

8:15 why does that make me sad 🥺 eat with your friendssss. iirc they only talked about eating at the Messenger table in the books

8:26 dipshits forgot their lunches. Seems Constance is holding the communal braincell atm

8:50 anyone have Guiness on speed dial? Reynie and Sticky have a submission for them

9:25 oh hello this was alluded to in the preview!!! Morse code is compromised, rip

10:05 so are Jackson and Jillson stuck with night guard duty all the time?? They've been outside at night a lot

10:18 ahhhhhh the little blinkie light, stopppp

10:25 MILLIGANNNNN!!!

10:25 so is this the point where he starts staying on the island with them????

10:39 so are they just like "fuck it we'll do it right before sundown" ???? Like Jackson and Jillson are still gonna be on the lookout, they aren't gonna chill just because it's not fully dark

10:50 did the kids.....just not tell them that Mr. Bloom was on the island 😂 nice oversight guys

11:05 MADGE TIME MADGE TIME

11:05 remind me to tell you guys a story about Madge, I may or may not have done something irl a few years ago that would make y'all proud 😂😂😂

11:16 idk why but it makes me so happy that they kept Madge as a peregrine falcon

11:37 Rhonda, my love, you have my heart in your hands

11:46 roll credits

12:05 THE HEAD SHAKE HAHAHAH

12:06 Awww man, I was so excited for Milligan to be on the island .-. He must have been scoping out the inlet

12:07 "they're quite regal" A. I read the subtitles as "legal" the first time and that's somehow really in character for him, and B. IS MILLIGAN GOING TO NAME HER???!? HER MAJESTY???? PLEASE I WOULD LOVE THAT SO MUCH

12:15 his grimace KILLS ME

12:17 the hard cut from Nicholas in a brown setting and brown suit to Nathaniel in a blue setting and blue suit was lowkey striking

12:36 are they looking up Morse code 😳 can you imagine if they wrote down the message and are now decoding it

12:41 omfg all that for a HAT 🙃 I feel stupid

12:51 two things: 1. Those walls are atrocious, and 2. Yeah, talk about Morse code in a louder voice Connie girl, you're just in a public hallway

13:03 I'm sorry but those orange pillar things are not the vibe

13:03 the golden gate bridge called, they want their arches back

13:10 please let Kate climb the tower before the end of season 1. please.

13:22 y'all are about to be flying something else 😎

13:33 cleansing breaths

13:47 OH HELLO MESSENGER DUTY ALREADY??

14:06 what the heck is that teal pole for 😭😭

14:12 blindfold timeeee

I'm so sorry but I'm exhausted, it's 11:30 pm on Sunday night right now, I'll finish this episode tomorrow morning after I get some sleepies

~~

Good morningggg lesgetatit

14:50 "vomit of metal" ashhdjdjd

15:16 a wild Martina appears!

15:36 and if you folks look to your left, you'll see a wild Constance being the voice of reason once again

15:57 "lose the bucket" "I'm not gonna do that" HELL YEAH KATE

16:07 I get not having the bucket on the court lolol, I thought Martina was telling Kate to lose the bucket in general. Like, yeah, good luck convincing her to so that

16:35 show!Kate is much angrier than book!Kate and I'm still deciding how I feel about that. The Kate we've known from the books is a sunshine baby with looots of repressed trauma.

17:03 ......what is that. why is that.

17:11 WAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE REYNIE AHEHDJDJD

17:15 HI MADGE

17:41 the grand swell in the music makes me think it's going to go comically wrong

17:51 she's majestic because she's a queen 🥺

18:03 LMAO CALLED IT

18:14 Rhonda and Number Two getting at each other is such a sisterly thing to do 😂😂😂

18:37 ohhhhh? Someone's approaching? Miss Perumal perhaps????

18:45 YEAHHHHH BABY

18:50 PROTECTIVE MOM COMIN IN HOT!!!

19:22 THEYRE SO PRECIOUS 😭😭😭😭 I feel like I've been subconsciously starved for her and Mr. Benedict's interactions

19:36 died at that line in the one trailer

20:00 so Miss Perumal pulled a Sherlock Holmes. Love that for her

20:20 Cheri Tupintown??? Of all the aliases they could pick, Cheri Tupintown???

20:33 "Power in Truth Inc" that HAS to be something Rhonda came up with

21:01 you can literally watch Mr. Benedict realize that this is a woman not to be fucked with and he is CORRECT

21:23 "he's fine. Perfectly fine." At this, Mr. Benedict's pants caught aflame.

21:52 something about Constance sitting in on practice!!! It scratches an itch!!!!

22:19 "incorporate the helix. Live in the helix." Lord Helix is pleased with this offering.

22:26 so what I'm hearing is Kate is going to blow up on Constance for messing with the bucket

23:13 unrelated but Jillson'a shoes are cute

23:29 why does this room give off Johnny Depp's willy wonka vibes

24:13 that looks like a chair from a doctor's office waiting room 😭

25:29 they do be egg heads tho

26:02 baby girl, I have no idea why you're crying at weird art but let me dry your tears 🥺🥺

26:50 SHE FOUND ITTTT

27:27 okay Indiana Jones, go off

27:46 why did that kinda sound like Miss Perumal

28:43 the return of everyone's favorite, "enjoyable"

29:05 not that I'm not loving the ice breaker questions and the one-sided conversation, but I'm not loving it

29:22 oh so we're getting right into it aren't we

29:54 his eyes being open again makes this infinitely creepier

30:36 "where's your proof?" Miss Perumal doesnt fuck around!!!

31:29 you're telling me Constance has been there all day?? And Kate went to find her???? 🥺

31:58 oh so we're getting right to it then?? Kate addressing her independence and trust issues arc????

33:29 NEWS!!!!

33:49 CONSTANCE RIDING PIGGYBACK!!!!!!

34:04 okay, so they opened the murder hole, what are they gonna do now

34:59 Italian? 🤨 m'sir that is so fancy

34:59 fun story I learned Italian diction in college, so I know a little bit

35:16 "take your time" the whisperer says, immediately repeating the prompt to get the answer sooner

35:31 theeeeere it is

35:46 SOMETHING ABOUT THE WHISPERER SAYING "YOU ARE HOME" 😭😭😭 the show really played up the cult shit!!

36:02 Kate being protective of Constance 🥺

36:20 ohhh shit is it time for Connie girl to have double Reynie? Double Sticky?

36:36 STICKY

36:52 "what kind of nonsense?" HAVE THEY NOT ASKED THAT BEFORE THIS?????

37:14 "and your tiny brain can somehow pick it up!!" KATE STOP 😂😂😂

37:16 "I knew you had to be special in some way." WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

37:51 she's right, this is disregard for their safety. The show made Mr. Benedict and his team a lot more back-alley and dishonest, and Miss Perumal has every reason to be pissed

38:30 oh good they finally remembered he has narcolepsy

39:38 and the best mom award goes to:

40:38 I was gonna say that this hallway is how I imagined the KEEP in riddle of ages but then I remembered that (spoilers) the Institute is the KEEP

40:46 oh, hello propoganda

41:10 that's the other person Rhonda couldn't contact, along with Mr. Bloom. This has to be the brainsweeping process

41:22 yeppppp

41:44 this dark doctor's office theme gives me horror movie vibes

42:22 ohhhh, so that's how they replaced that scene where the four of them jump in a crate to hide and Sticky drops his glasses in the open

42:47 and so we've come to the part of the story where Sticky and Reynie become infinitely more conflicted

42:47 and since we've reached that point..... can we have the white knight scene? Pretty please? Please Disney I'm begging you-

43:12 so Reynie just figured that out without Constance? :/

44:03 love the manipulation

44:31 I'm sorry, the farm?

44:35 farm and forest????

45:16 "the Emergency has served its purpose" 😳 well okay then murder man

45:39 "one thought, one purpose" the hive mind rises once more

45:48 LOVE THE MANIPULATION

46:07 "what have you done to earn anyone's trust?" VALID

46:26 "please do!" WHY AM I EMOTIONAL

47:06 "we still have the falcon" that you do 😂

47:19 AYYY HERE WE GO!!! Time for Milligan to stay on the island??

47:49 ohhhh Constance, casual telepath strikes again

48:16 "stop it, Kate!" OOOOHHHHH

48:53 that line ("it would be nice to be unburdened") would be funny as shit if not for the fact that Constance is a telepath unbeknownst to herself and can both subconsciously perceive people's thoughts and hear the subliminal messages

49:20 HI MRS. PERUMAL!!!

49:25 wow, she's really going through with it 😳 not that I doubted her, but still, that's dedication

49:39 OH SHIT

50:17 oh, so he's an asshole to SQ too. Got it. Torches and pitchforks? Ready to kick his ass?

50:40 "for the moment, anyway" FUCKIN WHAT

This episode was really good!!! They covered a LOT. I hope Miss Perumal comes back to the group and talks about her findings, I hope Milligan goes to get the kids and they tell him no, and I hope they get that classic 4-person Society brainstorming and binding time that hits that sweet spot

#mbs disney+ #mbs liveblog #the art of conveyance and round trippery #the mysterious benedict society #charity's talkies

[readyplayerhobi]

My Soul To Reap

; Reaper!Hoseok x Harpy!Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

; Word Count: 31k

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

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

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

; Part of the Fantastical Tales for Curious Souls collab

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

But still, it made the process easier.

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

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

And this human’s time had come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not him.

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

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

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

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

How wrong he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Humans couldn’t stand the touch of a reaper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s tired of these men now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this? This was different.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew that you would have been astonishing with them, but he was more than content with how you were now.

You brush at the front of your dress while humming gently, the back draped open and revealing the mostly healed wounds on your back. They’re not a pretty sight; the gashes had been too deep for your skin to heal smoothly and so the skin there was thick and rough with scars. The open dress was a remnant of when you would wear your wings openly around your small home, needing the gaps to allow you to spread them.

Now, it simply let you walk around without having anything irritating your wounds as they had healed.

Hoseok wished he could say your humming was soft and melodious, but it wasn’t. You’d told him of the myths about your kind over the past month and one of those was that the sound of your voice was death itself. 

That was obviously false, but no one would ever say that you had a pretty singing voice. Even Hoseok struggled to lie there, but you’d just laughed at him sweetly when he’d tried after you asked him if he liked your singing. You knew that you didn’t have a good voice, but that was apparently merely a trait of a harpy.

Neither did you care. You sang because you enjoyed it, even if you were bad. Hoseok couldn’t find it within himself to think negatively of you when you embraced your solitary life so firmly in a way he’d never been able to.

Moving to the bed next to him, you sit at the edge and reach out to hand that rests carelessly on his thigh. Instinctively he moves his thigh out of the way in a jerky movement, body tensing while his hand clenches.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly before you let out a small sigh, letting your hand rest on your own thigh as you cross your legs. “You are so tense around me.” The words are steady, with no accusation in them and he feels grateful for that.

Swallowing thickly, he looks down at his hands and gives a small shrug. “It is not you. Well...it is you. But not in a negative way. It is just...you know that I’ve spent centuries alone. I have become...conditioned to the knowledge that my touch will cause pain and so I actively have avoided seeking out contact. I am no sadist.”

“I understand that Hoseok, really I do. But...you know that you don’t hurt me? I...would like to touch you. Casually. I want...I want to be able to touch you without you flinching from me. I want you to enjoy being touched.” He scowls slightly, lowering his head and he feels shame as his lip purses out in a petulant pout.

He’d always thought humans that pouted were childish, yet here he was, pouting.

“I do not hate it. I just...I am not used to it. I...I would like for you to touch me as well. I...like your touch, even if I flinch at first. It makes me feel...happy?” His sentence turns into a question but he knows it’s rhetorical because he already knows the answer. Your touch does make him happy, in fact it makes him positively gleeful that you can run your fingers along his skin without crying out in pain.

“Would you...would you let me explore you then? I mean...if you are comfortable with it. And you think you will be okay with it. You can tell me to stop at any time.” You sounds a strange mix of embarrassed and excited, causing Hoseok to cock his head at you. The movement isn’t natural, he can tell by the way you shudder slightly and he resists from apologising.

You have both learnt over the last month that neither of you are human, and he knows that his...habits unsettle you sometimes. But at the same time, he knows that you won’t condemn him for them. If anything, you seem to find some of them almost...cute?

“I...okay.” He doesn’t intend for his voice to sound as soft and almost...shaken, yet it is. Because he’s feeling a lot of emotions that he’s struggling to process right now. Fear, in case he hurts you. Nerves, because he’s never had anyone touch him before except for you. Awe that you want to touch him. But mostly, he feels excitement. Pure excitement at the very thought that you want to spend your touch touching him.

Your face lights up in a brilliant grin though, white teeth sharpening for a moment before they become blunt once more. He finds your little slips into your harpy side sweet, as if you’ve become so distracted that you can’t focus properly.

Hoseok wonders if your teeth would sharpen when you’re being kissed, if the edges would knick at his tongue as he kissed you as deeply as he’d watched humans do over the centuries. It made a strange feeling swell deep in his gut, twisting and odd. It’s foreign, and he doesn’t know enough about the emotions he’s been experiencing to be able to put a name to it.

Instead of thinking about it, he simply ignores it and stands up before moving to sit next to you on the bad cautiously. Neither of you have even done anything and yet his skin feels like the sensation just before a lightning storm, the fine hair on his arms standing on end while his breathing quickens suddenly.

You watch him carefully, lips curving into a gentle smile that is both amused and reassuring before you place a hand on his shoulder. He jumps before relaxing, finding the heat of your palm upon his clothed shoulder astonishing. 

“Lay back on the bed for me please?” Your fingers slowly move down his chest, tracing along the collarbone that you can feel beneath the cotton of his shirt. The black material keeps his chest from your view, yet he suddenly finds that he wants to remove his shirt entirely.

To let you feel him skin to skin, to let him feel you. He wants you to touch him in the way a woman touches a man, but he doesn’t know how to get across that he wants that. Internally sighing, he contends with the fact that he will simply accept what he is given right now.

Which is far more than he’d ever imagined over the years. 

Laying back on the bed like you’d asked, he rests his head on the small pile of soft pillows you favoured and watches you intently. You’re humming to yourself again, the noises quiet and he has to press his lips together to suppress the smile he wants to let out. It doesn’t stop him from admiring how pretty you look in the mid-morning sunlight, so elegant.

He wonders if it’s normal to feel like this, or if he’s simply imprinting on you because you’re the first being he’s been able to touch without hurting. Like a duckling attaching itself to the first thing it sees when born or something. What if he doesn’t actually care for you, but is simply infatuated with the idea of being able to live?

Any further thoughts he has along this line is interrupted by the featherlight touch of your fingertips against wrist. His eyes trail down to follow your movements, taking in the way they ghost across him in a way that has the hairs on his arms standing up beneath you. A small huffed laugh leaves you and he glances up before looking back down.

Your touch is soft and careful, fingers moving along slowly as you let him get used to the very idea of being touched. It’s odd, he thinks to himself carefully, how...nice it is to be touched. Pleasant. 

Your body temperature is perfectly normal for a living being and yet it feels like you’re the temperature of a furnace with the heat your fingers leave behind on his arm. He knows that’s just his mind getting a little ahead of himself, but he finds that he likes it still. That warmth lets him know that you’re very much alive, despite the harbinger of death moniker you wear on your shoulders heavily like an iron cape.

Turning his arm, he lets your fingers dance along the vulnerable skin of his inner wrist. The flesh here is weaker, so easily hurt as he has seen over the years from humans who have injured themselves; whether on purpose or not. And yet, it is also incredibly sensitive due to that weakness.

The sensation that caused his skin to pimple is amplified tenfold and he can’t stop the shudder that ripples through his body. It’s incredibly obvious and he flushes deeply, embarrassed and ashamed to have had such a visceral reaction merely being stroked on the inner arm. 

But you just smile brightly, lips spreading to form a beautiful smile and his heart stutters for a moment as your eyes shine with happiness at his naive reaction. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so stupid. Not if it makes you smile like that.

Your fingers reach the sleeve of his shirt, rolled up to his elbow, and he spots a tiny pout appear. Playing with the edge of the soft material, you look back up at him with a slightly pleading glance.

“Can you...I mean...would you take your shirt off? Please...if you’re comfortable with it.” Hoseok remains in place for a few moments, his body frozen with awkwardness and stiff with uncertainty. He had never undressed around you. In fact, he never had to, because he didn’t wear clothes like you did.

His clothes were an extension of his power, allowing him to wear whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. It allowed him to blend in if he ever found himself in a situation where he must be seen, so he could attire himself in the latest fashions without having to actually communicate with a human.

As such, you’d never seen him change because it was a simple thought to give himself night clothes. Which meant he didn’t have to physically remove his clothes now either.

Swallowing, he nods slightly before his black buttoned up shirt vanishes without a sound. Suddenly, your fingers are touching the velvet skin of his inner elbow and he finds himself exposed to the world in a way he had never been. It’s rather astonishing he thinks and he can’t help but look down at his torso in slight amazement.

His actions must be amusing to you as you let out another chirp of laughter, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth as you take him in. Hoseok’s brow creases in confusion while his head tips to the side, asking a question silently.

“You’re looking at yourself like you’ve never seen your chest before.” Teasing, that’s what you’re doing with him. It makes him smile softly in return as he shrugs lightly, cheeks heating once more.

“Well...I have not, really…” He trails off, unsure of how to explain himself. “I do not...change clothes like you do, as you have just seen. Therefore...I have never had need to be...bare.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in his words before they slowly trail along his torso in careful and calculated movements. Raising a brow, you let your hand move onto the toned muscles of his abdomen which twitch in response to your light touch. But there’s nothing sensual in your eyes that he can tell, instead he just sees pure curiosity.

“So...I am the first person to ever see you like this?” You ask, eyes narrowing while one side of your mouth kicks up and he finds his throat tightening as he nods. “That is...interesting Mister Jung.”

As you say his name like that, low and almost purring, you rake your nails along his flesh in a scrape that is light enough not to cause damage yet deep enough to make him shiver violently. A gasp leaves his mouth as his chest heaves suddenly, causing him to look at you with widened eyes as you grin triumphantly.

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t even think on the question, doesn’t even let the words fully penetrate his mind before he’s nodding quickly. Because he does, he really does trust you far more than you’ll ever know. Because a part of his mind is telling him that he’s going too deep, too fast and that he’ll get hurt if he doesn’t stop.

But he doesn’t care, he can’t care. Not when he’s getting something he never even realised he’s been craving. Whatever that is, even if he can’t put a name to it now. He wants to be here, with you and continue feeling. And that means that he trusts you, in a way he has never trusted a single person, alive or otherwise, in his long life.

The look of fond relief on your face makes him realise that you’re probably far more touched by his acknowledgement than he could realise. That made him feel good, knowing that you probably weren’t going to abuse that trust. Although he could never say for sure.

He’d spent too long on this planet to fully believe that nothing will ever go wrong, because something always does eventually.

Either way, he doesn’t expect his trust in you to be rewarded with your lips being pressed to the centre of his chest. He’d been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed you moving, hadn’t paid attention to the look of desire in your eyes, nor to the way your hands on his slim waist had squeezed ever so slightly.

But he’s paying attention now. Now that the rose soft petals of your lips ghost along his skin, the sensation so overwhelming and unknown that it feels like his brain is overloading with information while his nerves scream in pure adulation at the sensations you’re providing him. Hoseok had never imagined he would be able to touch someone in his long life.

As such, the very idea of being kissed like this was a concept so foreign that he genuinely had not even imagined it. He had fleeting thoughts of what kissing you might feel like, but he tried to push those away because that would merely lead to heartache.

Hoseok would never know the feeling of your body beneath his lips like you were doing to him, he would never know the taste of your mouth or anything like that because to kiss him was to die. And he would spend the rest of his life fighting death for you if he had to.

But he had never considered the fact that you could do this to him. That you could explore his body as expertly as you were doing now, letting your lips brush over the dips and curves of the muscles that strained beneath your touch. Warm softness against his over sensitized nerves while your hands move along his waist and stomach in an almost mesmerising dance.

He wasn’t sure whether he was coming or going, whether he was alive or dead, whether he was imagining this or not. All he knew was that all he could focus on was the feeling of your lips, so gentle and tender as you made sure to go slow and acclimatise him to the feelings you were overloading his body with. 

The words to thank you wouldn’t form in his throat, not when his fists are gripping the covers of your bed so tightly and his body is so tense. You must take his movements the wrong way as you stop, lifting up to look at him with a frown of concern while one hand rubs at his side comfortingly and he almost whines at the loss of touch.

“Are you okay?” The fact that you were so willing to stop just to check on him makes him feel warm all over and he has to swallow a few times, licking his lips to provide enough moisture for him to talk as he nods.

“Yes. Yes I am...I am okay. I just...this is...I have never...are you okay doing this? You do not have to, not for me. I do not want you to do something you are unsure of.” He means every word he says, and the way your face creases in bemusement tells him that you understand his earnest meaning.

Leaning over him, he swallows even harder at the sudden proximity of your faces while a panic overwhelms him at how close your lips are. “Please do not kiss me.” He blurts out, not even caring that the words come out of nowhere.

You freeze in response, brow creasing and he realises that you’ve forgotten about his warning. Or maybe you simply thought because his touch didn’t hurt you then his kiss wouldn’t either. But he refused to risk that. He couldn’t risk that. His touch was merely pain, his kiss was death.

Without him even realising, his hand rises and gently smoothes away the frown on your brow and he marvels at how soft you feel beneath his own finger tips. Despite his words, you’re still close enough that he can feel the invisible caress of your breath, warm on his cheek and he marvels at how...intimate it feels. 

This is as close as he can get to you without kissing you and causing harm, causing his throat to tighten as he inhales deeply. It’s only then that he looks back into your eyes, taking in the confusion deep inside them as they dart across his face, taking in every tiny movement.

“Why can’t I kiss you?” And then he realises that you have forgotten what he had told you so long ago. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised with this. It’s an unusual fact that he cannot kiss, and he doesn’t hold it against you that you don’t remember his warning. He’s just glad that he remembered.

His hand gently runs along your face, thumb stroking at the impossibly velvet softness of your cheek and staring at it in awe for a moment before his mind catches up and he responds. “I told you a long time ago, when we first met. Or rather, when I was cleaning you so perhaps the trauma means you do not remember. I am reaper. You cannot kiss me as if you did...or if...my lips were to touch anywhere on you...then I would kill you and pull your soul from your body.”

As he says the words, his mind supplies a horrific set of images of him doing just that; him taking you in his arms and pressing his lips to your own. For one brief moment, it’s blissful but then time freezes in its usual way and he’s pulling your soul from your body.

The very thought of it strikes him hard and he feels an agony inside his chest like he’s never experienced. Frowning deeply, he lays on hand over the place where it hurts the most and rubs slightly, puzzlement lacing his every movement and he doesn’t notice the way you watch him with careful eyes that warm pleasingly.

“If I remember correctly, and I may be remembering this wrong of course, but did you not also tell me that you cannot touch humans because your touch brings pain? You do not hurt me.” Fingers that were rough with calluses formed over a long period of time played with his own, but he still thought they were still some of the softest things he’d had ever had the privilege of touching.

He remains silent as you play with his hands, his own far bigger than yours and he rests his palm against your own, spreading both your fingers wide and smiling at the difference in size. You were strong enough to kill a human man, when you were not cornered of course, and yet you felt so small and dainty here like this. 

Wrapping his long fingers around your own, he feels yet another strange pulling in his chest as a swell of...protective feelings blooms deep within. Hoseok has only known you for a month, and most of that time has been spent helping you to heal and keeping watch over you, yet he knows deep down inside that he would protect you from anything.

Not that you would need his protection once you were fully healed. He knew that you would never let yourself be taken unawares from now on, yet the feelings still bubbled within him alongside a righteous fury at those who had hurt you so.

“No...I do not hurt you. But my touch would simply be pain...the death of your nerves around whatever area I touched. It would hurt, but that would be it. My kiss...would be death itself. I can’t...I can’t risk that. What if are you immune? Then you live. But what if you aren’t? I...I cannot be responsible for your…” Hoseok is surprised by how his throat tightens abruptly at the final word, his breath short suddenly while he feels...he doesn’t know what he feels but he does not feel well. 

The very idea of you not existing is a pain he never knew he could feel.

As if you can tell his emotions, even though you have no empathic skills as far as he is aware, you cooed to him in reassuring sounds while your free hand cups his face and strokes in comforting movements that have him breathing a little easier. When his gaze finally refocuses on you, you smile tenderly at him before moving closer until your nose rests against his so lightly that he’s not even sure if he can actually feel it.

This close, he finds himself in silent awe as he takes in how truly beautiful you are. An old scar bisects an eyebrow while another makes its way across your cheek, the skin is not as smooth as everything else and yet he thinks it just makes you look even more handsome. He gets the sudden thought that he could spend hours looking at you and never tire of it.

“It is okay Hoseok. I will not kiss you…” You trail off, your words so incredibly light that it’s a strain even for him to hear them. “But that does not mean I cannot kiss you elsewhere, correct?”

A brow rises at your question and his throat convulses reflexifly. The very thought of feeling your lips on his body again makes him feel like he has lightning in his veins, his senses positively crackling with anticipation and he lets out a puff of air without meaning to, internally wincing due to your close proximity but you don’t say anything about it.

Instead, at his tiny nod, you smile before slowly moving your face along his, nuzzling your nose against his before your lips find their place at his jawline. The sensation is even more overwhelming that before and he struggles to swallow for a moment, his throat feeling tight and yet he would rather kill a thousand humans than ask you to stop what you’re doing right now.

Hoseok has never once indulged in anything in his life. But he wants to indulge in this. He wants to fully commit himself into this influx of feelings that you incite in him until he can’t even think straight anymore. Or maybe just that he can’t even think.

As your mouth slowly trails along his jaw, he lets out a whisper soft whine as you press an open mouthed kiss to the strained flesh of his throat. He had never known that this was such a sensitive area, even though he had seen many human’s pay special attention to this area when they were engaging in their sexual desires.

Now he understood why.

A husky laugh leaves your mouth, vibrating along his skin and he shivers from the sensation, positive that his mind will short out with the sheer awareness he has of his body right now. Hoseok thinks he finally understands why humans seem to seek out the pleasures of the flesh so ardently, why it seems to rule their minds sometimes until it’s all they can think about. 

Because if this is merely what your mouth on his throat feels like...he can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like on other areas of his body. Areas that he knows are far more sensitive to this kind of touching than anywhere else on his body.

He should know, he’s seen enough humans engaging in it for him to have gained a healthy curiosity as to why they were so insistent on this activity. Even when it came with punishment if they had found out.

As you move along his skin, your hands make quick work of stroking along his chest and stomach in long, slow movements that acclimatise him to being touched far quicker than he could’ve possibly imagined. A deep groan falls from his mouth as his eyes close of their own accord when he feels the wet heat of your mouth as your press an open kiss to the vulnerable skin between his neck and collarbone.

It’s a sensation he’d never even thought to imagine and it feels better than he could have ever thought. You hum happily against him, lips curling up of your own accord as his obvious pleasure satisfies you in a way he didn’t understand.

How could you enjoy doing this to him so much when you knew he could not reciprocate? That he would never be able to kiss along your collarbone in the same way you were doing to him, leaving behind a trail of wetness that cooled quickly in the midmorning air.

Oh, how he wished that he could.

It made him feel bizarrely inadequate suddenly and his hands move up to lift your head, admiring the way your pupils seemed to be larger than before and how your lips are slightly more swollen. He ponders momentarily if that is because of what you had been doing, but he doesn’t understand the biology of it all to make a properly educated guess.

“I want to do something for you. Please. I...I feel a little useless here. And...selfish. Because this should not be all about me.” You make a soft noise of repudiation and he shakes his head firmly, letting his thumbs stroke along your cheeks gently and admiring the way you lean into his touch. “Please...show me...how I can do something for you. Please. There must be something.”

There’s a brief hesitation in you as you pause, looking down at him with emotions that he doesn’t understand before you pull your lower lip between white teeth, chewing for a moment before letting it slip back out. He can’t help but watch the motion, surprised by the stirring in his groin.

You shift a little from your position next to him before nodding, eyes lowering in a sudden shy movement that has his heart beating a little faster than normal. Slowly, you shift until you’re kneeling on the bed before you move one leg over his waist. In this position, he’s given a perfect view up your glorious body and his mouth falls open as he gazes upon the sheer beauty he’s being blessed with.

Your dress pools at his waist, the material drawn up to reveal the bare expanse of your thighs and calves. He has the sudden and intense urge to lift that soft material, to allow him to see what lies between your legs and he frowns slightly at that thought. Hoseok knows what will be there, and he’s surprised at how eager his thoughts are given he’s never been bothered about the idea before.

But then again, he’s never had anyone straddling him on a bed like this. 

A surprised noise leaves your mouth as you wriggle once more, eyes widening as they lock onto his while your mouth falls open into a pretty ‘o’. He tilts his head in concern, wondering if perhaps you’re injured or something but instead you just grin at him.

“You seem to be enjoying this more than I anticipated.” You tease him, words filled with an intimate joy. At the way his brow creases, you smirk and move one hand to slide underneath the folds of your dress and he lets out a shocked gasp at the jolt of pleasure that sparks from where your hand presses against the crotch of his trousers.

Grinning, you press your hand harder and he finds himself moving aside your dress to frown down in surprise at his groin. Hoseok knew logically what was happening, he’d been around humans for a long time and there were many men who were proud of what they held between their legs, but he had never experienced it himself before.

Still, he’s not sure whether to be proud of the fact that his penis does in fact work like a human’s, which likely means he could perform during intercourse, or humiliated because you get to witness the first time it ever happened. Or maybe you’re disgusted by the fact he evidently finds you attractive enough to gain an erection.

“I am sorry.” He blurts out, wanting to avoid any offence. There are many women that find it revolting to be the object of a man’s attraction, particularly when it’s so obvious and Hoseok is partially mortified that his first experience with this is being witnessed in such close proximity by you. The very reason for his excitement.

A loud laugh leaves you, your face creasing in amusement as you lean down to press a sweet kiss to his nose that leaves him blushing even deeper. He doesn’t know why you’re laughing and part of him is embarrassed, wondering if you’re laughing at the fact he’s hard for you. But you assuage his fears seconds later.

“Why are you sorry? Because you find me attractive?” You shake your head fondly, letting your fingers run along his chest slowly and tracing shapes he doesn’t understand onto him. “No. Don’t feel ashamed for it. I’m honoured that you think that way, truly.”

Hoseok doesn’t move for a moment, his eyes firmly looking away from your gaze and his cheeks ablaze until you gently tilted his head back to yours. What he sees there is soft amusement and something else, something he doesn’t quite recognise deep in your eyes. Frowning slightly, he reaches up and runs the tips of his fingers along your face slowly, taking in all the ridges and softness that make your beauty. 

“You truly are beautiful.”

Now it’s your turn to duck your head down, shyness written in every inch of that astonishingly arresting face and he can’t help but smile, wondering where your earlier confidence had gone. He knew that you had far more experience in this area, only two weeks ago you had told him of the couplings you’d had with another harpy, a male. 

Apparently he had been a childhood friend, and you had hoped one day that he would be your mate. But as with the rest of your family, he was no longer here. It made something twist inside Hoseok to think that you were all alone, but he was here with you now.

Still, he was slightly bemused to find that he was actually intimidated at the idea of anything sexual with you. Hoseok hadn’t even known his sexual organs even worked until right now and his emotions and feelings were in a multitude of states he couldn’t even begin to work out. The experience you brought would be appreciated because it meant you would be able to help him through everything, but it made him shy at the thought he might do something wrong.

It’s not like he’d made it a habit of the years to spy on the sexual behaviour of humans.

“I think you may be the only person alive who would think that about me.” A scoff leaves his mouth without him even realising and your brow raised slowly, lips quirking slightly and he watched the colour’s change within. Since you had woken, your eyes had no longer been the solid black that they had when he had found you and he wondered how they worked.

“Well...technically I am not alive.” He grinned and you laughed in response, automatically moving down to kiss him before stopping as his hand pressed against your chest. Your face cringe, mouthing out a sorry before you shake your head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Okay, so you want to do something for me, correct?” Hoseok nodded eagerly, excited to learn and excited to bring you pleasure and happiness.

Chewing your lip slowly, you take his hand and rest it on your breast, the mound soft and supple beneath his fingers underneath your dress. His hand squeezes gently without him even realising and he mutters an apology, but you simply smile and encourage him to explore. It awed him just how...soft you feel. He doesn’t have another word to describe it, but you simply feel soft.

A shiver runs through as his hand moves and he feels the hardening of a small nub under his palm, moving it away just enough to spy your nipple firm against the flowing material of your dress. Absentmindedly, he runs his thumb over it and gets a responding moan fall from your lips, eyes closing and he mentally takes note of that.

“Does this feel good?” He doesn’t realise that he’s vocalised that until you nod and give him an affirmative hand, taking your own hand and guiding him to what you like most. While you do that, your other hand comes to rest on his chest, thumb moving over his own nipple and he jerks slightly in response, eyes widening as he looks down at his chest in amazement.

“It does!” His innocent response has you laughing loudly, letting go of his hand to lean down and press a gentle kiss to his jaw, almost affectionately. 

But then he lets his hands move down your body, running his palms along the curves of your waist and the expanse of your stomach, sliding around and finding the solid roundness of your behind. It all feels so new and interesting to him that he doesn’t even pay attention to your face anymore, instead focusing firmly on what his hands are doing as they take in the exquisite shape of you, committing it to memory.

You let him explore as he pleases, watching him intently and thoroughly enjoying the feel of his touch if your soft sighs and shivers are anything to go by. Hoseok can understand why humans like doing this now, it feels...exhilarating to explore you like this.

“Do you want to go further?” Your voice is deeper than before, filled with a husk that makes his head tilt on the pillow and you smile. It’s only then that he notes your eyes darkening ever so slightly, leading him to wonder if they’re influenced by extreme emotion.

But he can’t stop the way his head nods, a deep and carnal need pushing him to explore your body even more, keep going until there is nothing about you he doesn’t know.

And with that, you gently guide his fingers to the place that had got him so worked up earlier. It has the same effect now, his body tensing slightly while he breathes ever so slightly faster, lungs working harder.

He expects you to simply guide his hand beneath the fabric of the dress, but you surprise him once his hand is centered on your body, grasping the material and carefully pulling it free from your body. Hoseok’s breath leaves him in a single woosh, his body feeling almost fuzzy as his mind tries to take in the image of your naked body before him.

It’s silly really, he shouldn’t be this affected given how he had seen you naked the first day he’d ever met you, and for two weeks you had laid in bed without anything over your torso. Yet, he had been beyond polite with that and had refused to look at you in any way that could be misconstrued, not when you had been so weak and vulnerable.

Now was different, now was you actively wanting him to look at your body while you were awake and healthy. 

Swallowing hard, Hoseok’s hand shake ever so slightly and he looks at them, brow creasing as he wonders why. But if he’d been in awe of your beauty beforehand, then he had no words that could be used to describe you now.

He doesn’t know how long he simply stares at you, greedy eyes taking in every inch of exposed skin, unwilling to leave any part of you left unseen. You seem to tire of it after a few minutes, though he can see from the warm glow of satisfaction in your eyes that you’re pleased at his observations.

Reaching for his hand, you slowly centre it again on your body, pressing his palm to your stomach before moving it down. Velvet skin meets his touch, and he notes that your own nails have grown into their familiar black claws from excitement, leading him to wonder momentarily how you manage to pleasure yourself.

But then that thought vanishes from his mind as he feels the coarse hair that surrounds the area that you obviously want him most. He takes the initiative after that, moving of his own accord as he explores your most private area, fascinated at the way you shiver with delight as his fingertips dance along your inner thighs.

He doesn’t waste much time though, his eyes caught on the slick softness resting firmly in the centre of your thighs. And so he runs a finger along the exposed flesh slowly, watching with fascination as your legs tighten around him and abdomen clenches, a breathy gasp leaving you.

It’s impossibly soft, the flesh giving way to his fingers easily as he rubs a slow circle around the engorged nub, enjoying the way you shiver and shudder in pleasure. But that has nothing on when he slides his fingers further along, slipping between your folds and discovering the slick wetness that awaited him.

For a moment, he was surprised, looking at the sticky residue on his fingers before sliding them back, smearing your own excitement all over your clit. It must be more pleasing for you, as immediately you whimper, hands tightening on your breasts as you squeeze them for more.

“Keep doing that, in circles, a little harder,” He does as you ask, applying a little more pressure and moving as you’d requested. “Yes, that feels good.”

It’s surprising how content he is to simply bring you pleasure, watching in delight as you writhe atop him, your movements enticing and exciting all the more because he has the knowledge that they’re being caused by him. For the first time, his touch is bringing pleasure and not pain.

You’re very vocal for him as well, directing him exactly how to touch you to bring yourself the maximum amount of pleasure and he’s glad for it. He would have no idea what to do properly otherwise, which is why he’s even more pleased when you push at his hand, his fingers sliding along your folds until he reaches the source of your wetness.

Your entrance is beyond slick, thighs shining with your own juices and he stares in fascination for a moment as the tips of his fingers disappear inside you. A soft moan from you tells him that you enjoy that, and he carefully slides one finger as far as he can. The moan this time comes from him, the tightness and sheer warmth of the walls that surround his finger sending an instant fantasy to his head about what this would feel like with his dick inside you instead.

Experimentally, he moves that finger in and out of you slowly, rubbing along the smooth ridges of your walls as he does so before he finds himself sliding a second in, a sudden need to stretch you a little further taking over. 

“Oh gods, Hoseok...keeping doing that. Rub right there.” You pant out, eyes clenched tightly closed as he curves his fingers and rubs along a certain spot. Head tilting, he carries on doing so, speeding up his movements when he notices you seem to like it faster and harder with how your body shudders and the obscene noises leave your mouth quicker.

As he focuses on the pace he manages to keep inside you, awed at how wet you get as he does so with your excitement spreading down his wrist and making him get a little more excited as well, you take the initiative of your own as well to reach between your thighs and stroke at your clit in fast, small circles. 

It’s interesting to note that your claws vanish as you do so, causing his brows to raise slightly but then he lets out a soft whiney gasp as he takes in the ridiculously attractive sight above him. You writhe and wriggle, pressing against the hardness in this trousers that causes him to wince slightly but he can’t deny that it feels good too.

“Keep going Hoseok, keep going.” And he does so, clenching his jaw as the muscles in his bicep strain from the unusual movement but he can’t stop now, there’s no way he wants to stop because all he wants to see what will happen when you reach that edge. The edge he’s heard humans reach, and knows exists, but has never seen it in real life.

Then, with a keening and high pitched cry that soon turns into a deep moan, your body shudders violently. Deep convulsions cause your muscles to tighten, hands clenching tightly while your head falls back onto your shoulders and the tightness of your channel increases until it’s a struggle for Hoseok to continue fingering you, grunting from how you clench around him like a vice.

But he continues on, stroking the twitching muscles and elongating your orgasm until you finally pull your fingertips away from your engorged clit, whimpering and whining as he continues before pushing his arm away too. Looking at it with wide eyes, Hoseok stretches his fingers out and watches in wonderment as your excitement glistens in the light, stringy stickiness looking so enticing that he can’t help but place them into his mouth, tasting you for the first time.

And with that, he lets out a deep groan, his eyes closing tightly at the taste of you. Logically, he knows that your mouth would likely taste nothing like this and yet he has to stifle the desperate urge to find out for himself, instead focusing on the delicious taste on his fingers. 

“You taste phenomenal.” He mutters, fingers already moving to slip between your lips to coat them once more and you laugh tiredly, chest heaving for breath before grabbing his arm before he can.

“Thank you, but let’s not do that. At least, not yet.” Hoseok can’t help but pout then, eyes focused on the wet mess between your thighs as he fights the urge to taste you once more.

“But I cannot taste you any other way.” You chuckled lightly at that, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses to his chest that had his skin feeling like it was on fire. Lips as soft as rose petals drag across his skin as you move down his body, crawling backwards until you’re hovering with your face over his groin.

“I promise, you can taste me plenty. But for now, I would like to reciprocate the pleasure you gave to me.” He frowns, head tilting and you chuckle at the confusion that must be written all over his face. Kissing the band of his trousers, his abdominal muscles jump of their own accord and he suddenly wants you to touch him in a much more intimate way than you ever had.

When he doesn’t give a negative, you tap his thigh and tell him to remove the final clothing, leading to his trousers vanishing just as his shirt had. And he watches in wonder as his cock bobs in the air for a moment, the weight of its thick and hard shaft pulling it down until the bulbous head almost touches his stomach.

A soft laugh causes him to look back at you, the amusement in your tired face causing him to smile in response too. “Your reactions are so sweet. It is like you have never seen your own erection before.”

“I have not. This is the first time I have ever...been erect. I have had no reason to before.” His cheeks flush at the admission before he pokes at the veined shaft, watching the way it sways before he lets out a contemplative noise. “Am I of an adequate size? Would I even fit inside you? Or am I too small?”

Now you laugh loudly, hands resting on his firm thighs as your head tilts forward, forehead almost hitting his cock and he frowns in response. He may not have any experience in this, but he’s very sure that he doesn’t like his penis being laughed at.

But you console him quickly, able to sense the change in his emotions before he’s even worked them out and press a gentle kiss to his chest. “You are perfect. I promise. Do not worry, you will fit. I look forward to the day that we are ready for that.”

“Can that day be today?” He blurts out without thinking, eyes widening as he recognises what he’s just said. It causes you to pause though, brows rising before your eyes flick up to his, watching him carefully.

“I...I was simply going to use my mouth on you. I was not planning to have sex with you, I did not want your first time to be rushed.” It takes Hoseok a moment to understand why that was apparently important and his face changes into comprehension, mouth opening.

“Oh...you do not need to worry about that. I am more than happy to engage in sexual relations with you. Right now. If you want to that is.” Your lip purses out as you sit up, the glistening between your thighs attracting his attention before he can help it and he wonders momentarily when he became so single focused.

Yet you don’t answer him, simply looking at the wall and his eyes flick up to you, wondering what you’re thinking about. And then you crawl up his body slightly, and before he can even say anything further, you grasp him tightly.

He’s about to gasp out at the sensation, the feel of your fingers on him beyond exciting, yet that gasp turns into a strangled moan as you line yourself up and sink down onto him. There is no waiting, no slowness or shyness. Instead you are bold and quick.

Before his mind can even comprehend what has happened, you are seated on him fully, his cock buried deep inside the tight, wet heat between your thighs. If he had thought that his fingers inside you was glorious, then it has nothing compared to the way you feel around him now, his eyes scrunching closed and jaw tightening as his hands grip your hips hard.

“Fuck.” Is all he managed to get out, the word a choked whisper spoken from behind his clenched teeth and you let out a breathless laugh, the movement causing your internal muscles to squeeze him quickly and he whines.

“Oh wow. You feel even better than I imagined. Yes, you are most definitely the right size Hoseok.” The words are like music to his ears and you wiggle your hips in a slow circle, causing his cock to shift inside you and both moaned loudly at the sensation.

It’s almost overwhelming for Hoseok, he almost doesn’t know what to think or how to feel. All he can focus on right then and there, is you wrapped around him so tightly. He takes a moment to send a quick wish that he is not interrupted with a death call right now, because he’s not sure he would have the willpower to leave the delightful depths of you.

You apparently have more mental capacity left than him though as you slowly begin to move on top of him, hips lifting up until he swears he’s going to slip out before sliding back down. It’s almost agonising how pleasurable it feels, his mind so completely overwhelmed by these new and exciting sensations that he doesn’t feel in control of himself or his body.

The fact he can’t see himself either means that he doesn’t notice when his own eyes bleed black to match yours beneath his closed eyelids, a frown lining his brow as unstoppable noises spill from his throat with each glorious glide of you against him. He most definitely understands why humans enjoy this now.

And then you begin to squeeze your muscles rhythmically, tightening and loosening on his cock and a strangled moan leaves him. His hands clasp your hips even harder, a desperation he doesn’t particularly understand but knows he just has to follow taking over his body and before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s thrusting up into you to meet your movements.

“Shit, shit.” He mutters along with a lot of unintelligible noises, gibberish falling from his lips as the pleasure in his body builds and builds, his whole focus entirely on his cock and the fact that he would rather cease existing than follow this feeling over the precipice he feels he’s approaching.

Muscles tightening, he lets out a high pitched whine from his throat, almost breathy and whistling but he doesn’t notice as he bucks up into you, pressing himself firmly inside you as far as he can get while that exquisite tension in his body snaps. Head thrown back, his exhale is a gratified groan as lightning bolts of pleasure zip through his body, his cock twitching inside you as he spills deep into your wet warmth.

The whole time he orgasms, for the first time in his entire existence, you coo softly to him, running your hands along his chest and raking your nails over his skin, sending goosebumps pimpling everywhere. And you continue to ride him, wet heat moving him in and out of you in a constant rhythm that has him sputtering noises, muscles clenching him greedily and adding to the pleasure he’s already experiencing.

And then, it’s all too much for him. His whines are no longer excited and needy, but instead laced with almost pain as the sensations become too strong, too overwhelming for him and he has a deep need to stop it. As much as he adores the tight heat of you, his cock screams out from over sensitivity, wanting the sensations to stop and he doesn’t know what to do, half pushing against you but not wanting to be selfish and deny you.

But again, you read him better than he thought you might and lift your hips off him slowly, letting him slip out of you and fall back onto his stomach with a wet slap. He doesn’t look at you for a few seconds, eyes still closed before he finally takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down.

The first thing he notices is his cock, now slowly shrinking in size once more but he takes in the sight of your excitement coating him in a slick mess. Secondly, he focuses in on between your legs, your clit swollen and wet until his notices the thick, white liquid that slowly begins to drip from your entrance.

He doesn’t understand for a moment before he remembers the times that he’s taken a human’s soul after sex. Those scenes had been given an uninterested glance from him, but he realised what that was leaking from you now.

That was him, his own excitement, his own release that he had ejaculated into you as he orgasmed so wonderfully. The sight of it is strangely arousing, generating some feelings deep within himself that he doesn’t understand but he can’t take his eyes from the sight as you drip onto him.

“You did not orgasm again.” He finally says, voice breathless and concern in his face as he looks up at you. Smiling softly at him, you lean down to press a kiss to his chin before nuzzling your face into his neck. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your body, uncaring about either of your nakedness and he finds a different kind of pleasure in the moment of intimacy.

“It is fine, I did not want to. I had already had my pleasure, that was about you. Introducing you to sex and the joys of it.” Hoseok doesn’t know what to say for a moment and he gets a bizarre urge to kiss your head, knowing that he can’t yet still wanting to despite himself. So instead he hums, running his fingers along your back until he brushes against your scars.

You shift slightly as he does so, mildly uncomfortable and he quickly moves away. He knows they don’t hurt like they used to, but it must be odd to feel them like that all the same.

“I could pleasure you again? If you would like?” Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh and he gets the sense that you are sleepy, filled with a bone weary tiredness. Strangely, for someone who never used to sleep, he feels the same way, a lethargy that desires for him to drift off.

“Well...thank you. I enjoyed that, far more than I thought I would. It was...everything.” But you don’t respond, and when he shifts his head away to look at your face as best he can, he sees your eyes are closed and breathing evened out, fast asleep.

Smiling to himself, he squeezes you a little tighter before sliding out from your grasp, covering you up with the bed covers and clothing himself in what he had deemed his night clothes. Settling onto the floor in his usual sleeping place, lest he accidentally brushed his lips against you somehow in the night, he grins as he recalls what had just happened.

Strange feelings bubble in his stomach once more and he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling as he tries to figure them out. It’s hard, trying to work out emotions like this when you had never experienced them before, he thinks to himself. But he knows this one is important because it involves you, and he wants to figure it out.

Glancing up to where your hand rests hanging off the bed, he reaches up and holds it gently, hoping it brings you at least a mere piece of the comfort and happiness it brings him.

-

The next few weeks pass by strangely fast. Hoseok has always had a strange concept of time. As someone who is immortal, created and spending most of his life living outside of the reality of actual life, time is simply something humans measure the day by. To him, it’s insignificant.

Years can pass easily for him without his notice, the slow rise and fall of empires around the work attracting a passing attention for him. But as someone who was not connected to the real world in any tangible way, it also meant that the passing of time so quickly without him realising had left him very unconnected to the world.

He had been merely a passive observer, but for the first time, with you, he was an active participant. And he was horrified at how fast time seemed to go when he was with you. Beforehand, days would slip by and he would merely travel from one place to the other, taking in the beautiful sights and merely contemplating mundane things that would enter his head.

Hoseok would openly admit that his life before you had been bland and dull, unsure what he did with all that time. Now though, he had you to laugh with, to work with, to talk with, to sigh in pleasure with. Despite your initial assumptions the morning after his first sexual encounter with you, Hoseok had not become the equivalent of a teenage boy discovering girl’s for the first time.

In fact, he had remained more focused on you and providing you with all the sexual gratification he could with his hands and more. His own pleasure was merely a secondary byproduct, an excellent side benefit if you will.

As much as he liked the sex with you, he simply enjoyed spending time with you more. It made him feel warm and soft when he was in your presence, hating those moments when he felt the call of death luring him away from you. He fulfilled his duty of course, taking the souls of humans and leading them to the other side, but now he felt a strange sense of connection to some of them.

To the woman who had died in childbirth and had been overwhelmed with grief at never getting to see her child or husband again. To the man who died in war, leaving behind his family. To the child who would never be able to experience all that life could offer.

Hoseok...empathised with them, in a way he never had before. What had once been a cold and empty space inside him now overflowing with warmth and emotion, so many feelings that he experienced in a multitude of ways. Some of them he recognised and could name, others were foreign to him.

Part of him wanted to ask you, to explain what he felt and see if you could shed some light on all these strange new experiences that rolled through his body. But then something deep inside him that he didn’t understand, refused to let him. Something that made him feel slightly ill at the thought of explaining his thoughts and feelings to you.

He listened to that instinct, unsure why but unwilling to do something that his body felt so vehemently against.

But despite all of that, he enjoyed his time with you. You showed him how to garden properly once your back healed up fully, your movements still ever so awkward as you got used to walking and running properly without staggering from the lack of balance you had due to no longer having your wings.

He found pulling out the weeds from the dirt and planting new life rather satisfying and relaxing, losing himself for hours if left to it in the dark soil as he took care of the tiny, fragile plants. You found his newfound love of gardening amusing but had decided to leave it to him, pointing out that you often got dirt stuck far beneath your claws that would grow when your emotions did.

While you liked to garden too, growing vegetables and herbs that helped to sustain you, it gave you too much time to think and he had observed the way your body changed rapidly when you did so. Eyes darkening to black before shifting back to their original colour, black claws growing from your nails into sharp points and white teeth becoming far more lethal before blunting again.

It was fascinating to watch, but he had discovered that it also unnerved you. Without your wings now, you could resemble a human if you were able to control your emotions, and the prospect of potentially being able to trade with the human villages was exciting to you. Particularly when Hoseok had pointed out that he could take you around the world, fill your garden with spices, fruits and vegetables from far off places.

But you were still learning to control them, your emotions more unstable since the attack according to you. It made his heart hurt to know that you were still being affected, but the logical side of him knew that you were likely to suffer unseen side effects for some time. The attack had been brutal, and you had thought you were going to die after all that pain.

You still suffered horrendous nightmares during those dark hours, whimpering softly before thrashing in bed as your wails pitched in noise. It broke his heart to hear, unsure why your pain and fear affected him so badly but desperately wanting to comfort you.

He didn’t touch you though. He had done that once and you had flung out a clawed hand, black talons scraping down his chest in your terror. It had hurt, he’d noticed that everything seemed more intense nowadays instead of how it had been before he had met you, but he hadn’t cared.

Not when you had woken, with tears streaming down your face and fear etched deep into your eyes. It had morphed quickly into horror at the sight of the claw marks on his chest but he would coo to you quietly, reaching out and stroking your cheek in reassuring motions as the wounds on his chest healed rapidly.

He tried to keep you happy though, to make your life as easy as possible and he suspected that you had embraced the task of teaching him properly about the world and how to live with it with open arms. It was something he appreciated and he was quickly growing to enjoy a lot of things he would have never considered before.

You had shown him how to fix one of the fences that had broken recently, working with his hands in a way that was oddly satisfying and he was eager to learn more. But most of all, he had come to treasure the quiet moments of peace and serenity with you.

Like now, for instance. During the time that you had still been bedridden from the wounds on your back, you had spent a lot of time talking to him about a multitude of things. From his own knowledge of reapers and death to the mythology extending harpies to even more mundane things such as how to create clothing and jewellery.

But you’d also talked of how you enjoyed walking the forest trails or hiking up the steep mountain sides, luxuriating in the beauty of nature here. On your more daring days, apparently you had even flown but that wouldn’t be happening anymore.

Still though, Hoseok wanted to bring that sweet smile to your face and bring some peace into the life that he had made hectic by accident. And so he had asked if you would take him along one of your favourite trails, to explore the forest with him and show him why you loved nature so much.

Over his years, he’d seen many astonishing scenes of nature from impossibly large canyons cut into the ground to endless blue ocean and more. He swore that he would show you some of these sights one day, promising that he’d seen things that you couldn’t even imagine but for now...he wanted to explore your home with you.

And so you had pulled on a sturdier pair of boots, casually talking to him about how you made said pair of boots, a dress and a travelling cloak. When the rays of the sun that beamed down from overhead, directly above the clearing your cabin inhabited, he’d been momentarily struck by simply how beautiful you look.

But then you had taken his hand, locking your fingers together, and began walking. For three hours he followed you through the forest, understanding finally why you seemed to enjoy this activity. The gentle sounds of the forest let him know that it was alive, from the rustling of leaves in the wind to the chirping of birds, the call of deer and the chattering of small creatures in the underbrush.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, not until you’d pressed a finger to your own lips before then gesturing out to the forest in general. It was then that he’d focused his senses more intently, determined not to look a fool to you. And it was then that he’d tuned into the sounds and rhythms of life that made up the forest.

Even now, he still looked around in wonder at a new birdsong, eyes eagerly trying to find it to see if you could name it for him. You had an astonishing knowledge of the wildlife and plants of the forest, enough to shame him considering how long he’d existed, but he was pleased that you were so eager to share it with him.

He thought that it might be because you simply hadn’t had anyone to talk to for a long time, but he didn’t mind if that was the reason. It was wonderful to hear the passion and excitement in your voice and he enjoyed learning everything.

A small bird swooped past, its head and wing tips black while the underside was a luscious red and he watched it go before pointing. “That is...a bullfinch...right?” 

The quizzical look on his face is met with a bright smile from you, pleasure at his willingness to learn clearly present as you nod happily. “It is! You remembered.”

Hoseok has to bite his lip to stop his own smile from spreading, bashful as he looked down at the ground to avoid your gaze. The trail here was barely visible, hidden beneath fallen leaves of burnished copper, fiery orange, warm brown and sun-kissed gold but you seemed to know your way instinctively.

“I always remember what you tell me.” He said softly, the words so gentle that he’s positive they disappear on the breeze but you pause in your movements, looking at him with eyes that are slightly wider than normal and an inquisitive hint in them.

“Oh really? What was the first thing I ever said to you?” You query and his brow rises in amusement, the corner of his lips quirked up.

“You said thank you. That was the first thing you ever said to me.” The atmosphere between you both seems to deepen then with something he doesn’t quite understand, a multitude of emotions flickered over your face as thoughts he can’t hear filter through your mind. He wonders what you’re thinking.

Maybe it’s regret, that the first words exchanged between you both had been tinged in such sorrow and pain. But as much as he wishes he could go back in time and save you from being hurt in the first place, he still treasures whatever words you are willing to give him.

“Was it? I do not really remember. It was...a painful time.” You murmur, looking down at where his hand is joined with yours, lips twisting bitterly as memories of the attack obviously plague you. Hoseok feels distress at that, his chest tightening and he scrambles to find a way to distract you instead.

“That is good really, because my first words to you were not as memorable. Best you forget and instead focus on everything I have said to you since.” Swinging your joined hands, he gives you a bright smile in an attempt to cheer you up and it seems to work, your own lips breaking into a begrudging smile of amusement before you step closer to him, the heat of your body warm against him.

“I can accept that. You have said many wonderful things to me since.” 

“Really? I do not think I have said anything that is truly memorable.” He says, uncertainty lacing his voice as he frowns and tries to recall if he said anything that would make you remember it. The way you’re laughing tells him that perhaps he has.

“Oh really? I consider apologising for getting an erection because you found me attractive memorable.” His cheeks flush at that, embarrassment flowing through his body and making him feel far hotter than he should. Thankfully, he’s become a little better at speech in the bedroom.

Not that you really had a bedroom, considering it was a one room cabin but the point stands.

“I would prefer if you would forget that.”

“How about I pretend I forgot it? Because it was cute and I liked it.” The snort he lets out surprises him, causing his eyes to widen and you giggle loudly, the sound so bubbly and sweet that he’s enraptured as he watches you, something deep inside him feeling warm in a very different sort of way.

And he’s so caught up in admiring your happiness that at first, it doesn’t register in his mind what happens next. At least consciously, because his subconscious reacts immediately and he frowns for a moment, the lack of sound in the world startling to him but then he realises.

Recoiling back, he almost trips over his own feet as he looks in horror at your frozen visage, lips still pursed together from where you had just kissed him in your blissful happiness. It was the one thing he had to continuously remind you of over the last few weeks and there had been many close calls, but he’d been too late this time, too slow.

A horrible sound scrapes from his throat as his trembling hands cup your face as he staggers back forward, realisation of what had just happened still trying to slowly filter in his unwilling mind. The gentle light of the evening sun gives you an ethereal look as it dapples you in golden rays that manage to make their way through the thick forest canopy and his heart clenched tightly as he realises that he’s never seen a sight more magnificent in his life.

“No, no. Oh gods no. Please no. Please,” The words scrape from his throat, each word laced tightly with pain and anguish as he finally realises what’s happened and begs whoever may be listening. “Please no, please please please. No, not her. Please not her. Please not her, please don’t take her. Please.”

Tears quickly welled in his eyes before spilling forwards, sliding down his cheeks in a river of pain before falling to the forest floor. As soon as they left him, they pause in midair, waiting for time to resume. A constellation of his anguish that glitters in the light; almost beautiful.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers brokenly, resting his forehead against your own while your noses kiss in a gentle touch. It had been the only way he could kiss you for weeks, to show his deep affection and love for you without hurting you.

So many times he had the chance to tell you that, to tell you how he felt for you and so many times he had held back; for fear you would reject him, for fear he was simply projecting, for fear you would not return his fragile, new feelings.

Hoseok regretted that, he regretted it more than anything and another sob wracked his body as he realised that he would never be able to tell you properly now. He would never get to hold your hand as you walked through the woods together, he would never get to see your shy smile when he complimented you, he would never get to watch another sunset with you.

He would never get to love you again.

Slowly, painfully, he closes his eyes and let’s go of all the fantasies he’d let play out for the last few months. He should have known better. He should have known that this was how it would all end. He was a reaper, he brought death and unhappiness to the world. He broke the hearts of thousands by ending the lives of hundreds.

Someone like him would never be allowed to love openly. He knew that now. 

His tears fall onto your cheeks, freezing and he wipes them away slowly as he sniffs, wiping at his nose as he takes in the sight of you. It reminds him of the first time you’d explored him, when you’d been so close that he could take in every part of you without obstruction. Just like then, it makes his heart swell with happiness before it bursts in pain and despair.

Months, he’d had merely months with you. And yet he knew that he should be grateful that he had been granted even that time. Because you had shown him how to love, how to adore someone so completely and live to see them smile. You had shown him how to live, for the first time in his long existence.

“I love you.” He whispered once more, ignoring the way his eyes burn from the tears before he presses his lips to yours. This is the only kiss with you that he’ll be able to remember properly, the brief touch of your lips to his own that had spurred this was already forgotten from his mind in grief.

But this? This was...he wished that you could enjoy it with him. Your lips were as soft as he had always imagined, velvety like a petal and so warm beneath his own. Even though you would never feel it, even though you would never know the sheer depth of his love, he wanted desperately to imprint the passion you had inspired in him.

Pulling away, he looks down at you through watery eyes and resists the urge to breakdown. There’s time for that later. He has the rest of eternity after all. Now...now he has to do what he was made to do. Now he has to lead you to the other side.

He doesn’t want to do this.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands back and takes a deep breath, inhaling until his lungs hurt before letting it out slowly. It doesn’t help, but he tells himself that it does. Mind over matter.

And then, he realises something.

He doesn’t feel the pull of death. He feels nothing coming from you. No pull to signal a reaper is needed to sever the life connection between the physical form and the soul. Oh no, he panics, does that mean someone else is supposed to take your soul? Is he not allowed to because of his connection to you? He doesn’t know how this works for someone who is not human.

He can’t let some random reaper he’s never even seen before be the one to escort you. He has to. Hoseok has to at least tell you how he feels, just once, even if it’s only to your soul before you go. 

A whole new pain crushes his chest and a far away part of his brain is surprised with how many tears he has cried for you. Surely he must not have any left at this point? It feels like he has cried the river Acheron all over again.

But no one arrives. No one comes to take your soul, and a whole new panic overtakes him. You are not human, you are a creature of the supernatural. What if you don’t have a soul to remove? What if...what if nothing happens when you die? He’d never considered that. You were the first supernatural he’d ever met.

What if you didn’t have a reaper?

Oh no, no, no. He’s murmuring nonsense to himself, shaking his head wildly while his hands grip his hair in helpless frustration. No, this can’t be. You can’t...you can’t just...die and then...but if you...your soul...you can’t...he doesn’t...it’s too much.

Hoseok sinks to his knees slowly, the dried branches and leaves beneath him cracking under his weight as he lets out an agonised sound before he leans forward, resting his forehead on his arms as a wail of pure torment leaves him. Did he save your life all those months ago to simply just take it now? And so thoroughly that there will never be any evidence of you? That you won’t even be allowed the luxury of going to the other side?

His tears wet his sleeves as he howls in pain and anger. The disgusting excuse of a human who took your wings from you was given the honour of being allowed to move on and yet you get nothing? How was that fair? How was it fair? It wasn’t fair.

You deserved more. You deserved the best. Whatever was on the other side of the veil of life, you deserved to have the best version of it. You were pure and sweet, a kind heart and a gentle nature that loved even someone as unpure as him, someone who dealt in death. And you were going to get none of it.

Pushing up, he screams out his anguish at how unfair it all is, his head falling back onto his shoulders while his throat strains violently from the force. It echoes around the silent forest, a sound that has never existed in time itself and never will. But it’s only a shadow of the agony he feels in his heart.

Falling forwards again, he spends the next few minutes simply sobbing into his arms. Loathing fills him deeply as despair takes over his body, pained whimpers mixing in to create a quiet symphony of sorrow that only he will hear. Him and the Fates, those cruel masters whose whims he had been a puppet of his whole life. And whom had let him taste happiness only to pull it away just as quickly.

The increasing ache in his mind from the strain of holding time still for so long begins to throb uncomfortably. He has never held time as long as this before, never thought to do so and now he knows that he can’t. Even if he wanted to stay like this, where you’re still alive, beautiful and enchanting, he knows that he can’t.

Hoseok has to let you go. 

Slowly, his body tired from the strain of his grief and the drain on his power, he crawls towards you. Slumping against your legs, he presses his face into the soft fabric of your dress, inhaling deeply and taking in your scent, trying his hardest to imprint the smell into his brain as yet another way to remember you.

He loves your smell. It’s warm and earthy, the rich scent of forest pine and the crispness of a fresh morning. The tiniest hint of spice from your garden, all combining together to create an aroma that is uniquely you.

A soft whimper leaves him as he acknowledges that he will never smell it again. His heart aches fiercely at the thought and he wipes at his nose with the back of his hand before he uses his palm to wipe away the wetness on his face. It doesn’t help much as fresh salty tears replace those gone but he tries to ignore that as he takes in a deep breath to steady himself.

Slowly, painfully, he climbs to his feet. Staring out into the endless trees that surround you both, he concentrates on simply breathing, trying to steady himself for what he has to do next. His left eye twitches as the ache slowly begins to morph into pain that causes his brain to feel oddly fuzzy, his vision blurring, and he knows that he has to let go. 

Squaring his shoulders, he turns back to you and takes in your features one last time. Just once more, while you’re still technically alive. His eyes scan every centimetre of you, drowning in you to force his mind to remember and he feels a sudden flush of regret that there is no proof of what you look like. Nothing for him to look at centuries in the future and remember fondly.

It’s too late now though, and he lets out a shaky sigh before nodding. Moving closer, he rests one hand on the small of your back while the other goes around your shoulder. You’re still warm, and it makes his throat tighten but he pushes it away. He doesn’t want you to fall to the ground, you don’t deserve the indignity of that. 

No, he’ll carry you. He’ll carry you to the great oak in the forest that you’d showed him one week, a bright smile on your face as your features had practically lit from within with excitement at showing him your favourite place. It was a small clearing, meadow grass covering the floor while small dots of purples, yellows, reds and more of wildflowers painted a masterpiece. Above everything, a giant, ancient oak tree had stood keeping careful watch over everything below.

It had been huge, the trunk so big that Hoseok had to lean around to see to the other side while its branches had reached out dramatically, flush with green leaves that swayed gently in the summer breeze. That had been a good day, a day when your back didn’t hurt and Hoseok had simply got to revel in his happiness with you.

He wished he could go back then. It would have been the perfect moment to tell you that he loved you, when the air was strong with the scent of fresh flowers and sunlight. He would bury you under that oak, beneath the blankets of pretty flowers and underneath the boughs of the watchful giant. It was a beautiful place to rest forever, and Hoseok wanted the best for you.

You deserve the best, and though it may not be anything extravagant or awe-inspiring like the humans sought to do with their mausoleums and tombs, it was enough for him. And he knew that it would have been enough for you too. He would tend to that clearing and tree for however long he existed in honour of you.

Licking his lips, he lets out his breath slowly and tightens his grip on your body. A shudder runs through his body but he swallows hard, refusing to let himself fall apart once more. Not now. He can do that again later. 

And with the tiniest amount of effort, he lets go of time. It’s always a relief, that small part of him that he can’t even begin to describe relaxing as he lets go of his power. Normally he doesn’t even notice it, but today it’s obvious. The throbbing behind his eyes vanishes and the intense ache in his head soothes away in an instant.

If only it were that easy to heal his broken heart.

Birds chirping and calling to each other fill his ears instantly, the wind blowing through the trees gently and rustling the leaves and foliage all around while the warmth of the sun beats down on him once more. It would be a lovely scene, a nice place to take a break and enjoy nature but he’s not in the mood.

Instead, he just grips you tighter to him, his eyes scrunched closed as he presses you against his body. He’s not ready to let you fall just yet, not yet. One more moment, he can have one more moment with you.

And then…

“Hoseok...are you...you’re hugging me pretty tightly.” The words take a few moments to filter into his mind, his brow creasing in confusion as his brain stutters, unable to comprehend what’s going on. He swears he just heard you talk, but that’s impossible. You kissed him. He’s a reaper, his kiss kills. You’re dead.

Jerking back, he looks down with wide eyes and his heart stops as he looks into your eyes. Your very much alive eyes, that look back at him with puzzlement and a slight amount of bemusement. His hand moves on its own, cupping your cheek and the sheer warmth and life in it causes Hoseok to burst into tears once more.

A strange crying wail leaves his mouth and he doesn’t see the fright in your face as he pulls you closer, hugging you so tightly to his body that he’s probably suffocating you but he can’t care. He doesn’t care. Because you’re not dead.

You’re alive.

He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t even care. Because you are alive. You are breathing and warm and full of emotion and life and he can’t thank the fates enough.

“I th..thought...I...k-k-killed you.” Hoseok manages to get out between broken sobs, pulling back to cup your face while he bends down to look deep into your eyes, making sure once more that you are in fact alive and that he’s not imagining it. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d become delusional and was seeing hallucinations right now, his grief had been that intense.

But your own eyes widen as you realise what you’d done, how his fear of kissing had slipped your mind once more in your innocent effort to show him affection. He knew that you often forgot and had almost kissed him many times; he had forgiven you many times as well. It was an easy thing to forget, that a mere brush of his lips was death.

“Oh my...Hoseok...oh Hoseok, I am so sorry. I forgot, I just...I did not think. I mean...I am so sorry!” You blurt out, words falling over themselves as thick, salty tears continue to fall from his red, swollen eyes and your own fill in response to his heartbreak. “Hoseok, sweetheart, my love, I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you, oh I am so stupid.” 

Immediately he’s shaking his head, wiping away his tears as quickly as he can and sniffling, uncaring how pathetic he sounds. Because he had just walked through a valley of pain and come out the other side to find happiness once more. 

“I thought you d-d-dead,” He moans, voice cracking as yet more tears fall and he’s partially surprised to realise that even his nose is running in his extreme emotions. You wipe away his tears desperately, sniffing and crying quietly yourself as you try to comfort him as best you can. His head falls into your shoulder as you both fall to your knees on the ground, arms constricting each other as he cries brokenly. “I thought you were dead. I thought I k-k-killed you.”

“Shhh, shhh Hoseok. I’m sorry, it is okay, it’s okay. I’m here, I am alive. I am not hurt, you didn’t hurt me.” You run your fingers through his hair repeatedly, the long strands of black hair soft and smelling strongly of Hoseok as you press gentle kisses to his hair and forehead in your attempts to comfort him.

And then your fingers pause in their movements, so warm and alive against his skin that he wants to weep even more at the very knowledge that you are in fact alive. He’s so deep in his emotions, a garbled mix of relief, fear, panic and love, that he doesn’t notice the way your body freezes up.

In fact, he's forced to acknowledge you when your hands gently push at his shoulders, moving him back until you can lift up his face to your own. For a second, you pause in shock at the sight of his face and he wonders if his eyes are as swollen as they feel. Crying was something he hadn’t known he could do either, and he’d discovered he didn’t particularly like it.

“Hoseok...your...your eyes,” There’s confusion, fear and awe in your voice and he stiffens as he catches sight of the glowing reflection in your own. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes have fallen into their reaper state, an eternal blackness with his icy blue irises shining a frightening blue. It’s terrifying to the living, an unnatural sight and he doesn’t want to scare you. “They’re...beautiful. I mean...unnerving but...beautiful.”

Hoseok frowns slightly, looking down at his hands which grip at your dress desperately. No one had ever called him beautiful in his reaper state and he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to you, surely you had to be lying?

The suddenness of your compliment cuts through his whirling mind quite well and he allows himself the time to try and calm himself, breathing slowly and steadily until his tears are quiet once more. You probably hadn’t intended for that to be a potential side effect, but he appreciates it either way. He didn’t like how...out of control he’d felt with his emotions everywhere.

A soft gasp from you causes him to look up with wide eyes, concern and fear that perhaps you were just having a delayed reaction or something. But instead, he’s met with a brilliant smile and pure excitement etched into every line of your face. It makes his heart skip slightly and he’s so surprised by your reaction that his tears even stop.

“Hoseok...I’m okay,” You say once more and he sniffs hard, reaching up to wipe away the wetness at his eyes. He doesn’t understand and he can see the realisation in your own eyes that he doesn’t understand what you’re trying to get out. So instead, you lean closer to him until your noses touch before repeating the words. “I am okay...I kissed you...and I am okay.”

For a few seconds longer, Hoseok simply stares into your eyes with a blank look as he tries to work it all out in his mind. And then suddenly, it all clicks together and he recoils backwards with an astonishingly loud gasp. You had kissed him, a death sentence to anyone. But you were still here. Perfectly fine and alive.

Without even meaning to, his eyes fall down to your lips before he’s looking back into your happy eyes once more. The grin you wear is amused and you visibly vibrate with feeling as you see him work it all out internally.

“You are okay...you are not hurt...oh.” He’s not sure what to do, his hands hovering almost comically as his head tilts to the side. Your smile turns softer, more heartfelt and he almost purrs with soft delight and happiness as you cup his face in your hands, thumbs wiping away the trails of his tears.

“You didn’t hurt me Hoseok. I am here, I am alive,” With that, you lean forward slowly. Hoseok has plenty of time to move away if he wanted, but the deep and pure need that clenches his gut to finally kiss you causes him to stay put. “I love you.”

There’s no chance for him to comprehend what you mutter to him as your lips are soft butterfly wings against his own before you press them to his firmly. This time, he doesn’t panic and freeze time. He’s not even sure he has the capability of that right now, but he pushes any of those thoughts away and simply enjoys it this time. 

Your lips are warm and soft against his own, as gentle as the petals of the flowers you tend to in your garden every morning. The pressure is light, letting him get used to the sensation and he’s overwhelmed by you, every sense fizzing out as his entire body and mind focuses on where you meet.

Humans made kissing look so effortless and natural, as if it was nothing to be bothered about. A quick kiss here and there; shy kisses, sly kisses, wonton kisses, moving kisses, grieving kisses. To someone who’s kiss has only ever meant the destruction of life, the very idea of kissing anyone for pleasure had simply not existed in his mind until you had come into his life.

But he understood now. Just as he understood many of the things that human’s enjoyed and loved. All because of you.

You pull away from him slowly, just far enough that he can feel your warm breath against him and he chases after you without a thought, face creasing in consternation as he seeks out that blessed happiness he’d found in the form of your lips upon his. He never wanted to stop kissing you, ever. 

But you laugh quietly, a hand to his chest causing him to stay in place and he opens his eyes, a pout forming on his lips already. Yet he stills when he takes in the sight of you, practically glowing with pleasure, eyes dancing with a mischievous light while a bright smile paints itself on your face, causing his stomach to flip.

He knows what these feelings are now, the feelings that he’d been so confused over for the last few months. The feelings he hadn’t understood; that had felt so foreign to him and caused him unease with how out of control he felt whenever he looked at you. How butterflies had taken flight in his stomach at your smile, his heart had soared when you laughed, his nerves had tingled at your touch.

It was love. Hoseok didn’t have any experience in it, and perhaps it was a fumbling, almost childish version of love as a result. But it was pure, and honest. 

Born from a place of deep admiration and respect for your courage and perseverance, your kindness and caring nature, your love for a simple life and acceptance of him as a person and not a monster of death. His throat tightens as all of these thoughts rush through his mind, his hands reaching out and cupping your face ever so gently as his eyes dart all over, taking in the sight that has taken his breath away for months now.

No one had ever treated him as something to be befriended, to be talked to, to be pleasured and so much more. With you, he finally felt like he was alive after centuries of merely existing. With you, he felt like he finally had a purpose to be in the real world that extended beyond the job he was created to do.

Hoseok loved you, and he wanted to continue loving you for as long as you would allow him. Wake up next to you in bed, warm and cozy with his arms wrapped around you tightly, cuddling your body to his as you both slowly woke up. Feed the animals in your small enclosure, garden with you and live a simple life when he was not called to his duty.

He wanted to live his life with you.

His eyes watered as he focused back on your own, the gentle crease in your brow showing your confusion at his strange antics and he gives a smile that wobbles ever so slightly.

“I love you.” 

There’s the tiniest pause of hesitation before your eyes widening, smile fighting with the shock as your jaw drops open. A tiny part of him worries suddenly that you’ll reject him, that you only wanted him for his company, both in your bed and in your small cabin.

But then your smile grows even bigger, wider and your arms wrap around his neck tightly, pulling closer before you press your nose to his lightly.

“Really? You love me?”

“Yes, I do. I...I think I have for a while now but I just...did not understand. It takes me a while-”

“To understand what you are feeling. I know, I have learnt that over the last few months. It has been kind of sweet to go through it all with you, being there to witness you understanding yourself. I consider it an honour.” You interrupt and his cheeks flush dark, knowing that you have been there for most of the big realisations of his feelings over the last few months.

And then you gently brush your nose against his, the sensation featherlight and he can’t help but let out a small giggle, surprised at the noise yet unwilling to say anything about it. Not when you’re this close, and he can see every strand of colour that makes up your beautiful eyes.

“Would you like to know a secret Hoseok?” He nods without even realising, the sound of his name falling from your lips like music to ears. Perhaps he’s being stupid for being this happy with you, maybe it will all fall apart. Maybe reapers aren’t meant to love like this, but he doesn’t care right now. Because he has you.

After thinking he’d lost you forever from his life, he has you.

“I love you too.” And with that, you press your lips to his again in a sweet kiss that has his blood singing. It’s quick and fast again, but he doesn’t care this time. Not when he smiles so big after and begins pressing as many kisses to your face as he can as he learns what you feel like beneath his lips, not when he takes your hands and kisses each fingertip in turn, not even when he has you beneath him later in the cabin, exploring the slopes and curves of your body with inquisitive and gentle kisses.

Yes, he thinks to himself that night as he sleeps in your bed with you for the first time, your body tightly wrapped around his as he kisses your hair like he’s always wanted to, no matter what happens...he has you and you have him.

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[architectuul]

FOMA 37: Forgotten Greece

Forgotten Greece Masterpieces are obscure and understated, but still special in their own subtle way: it is the lack of fanfare, a certain restraint in the architecture that accentuates their genuine character, therefore they merit a closer look.

Concrete arches of Magoula Cemetery emanate an aura of Aalto’s wave designs or elements of Niemeyer’s Brasilia | Photo by Exporabilia

Each space comes with an interesting backstory and an evidence of how post-war ambition and civic pride fuses with classical tradition, science, folklore, religion and the natural environment. There is also an evidence of architectural brilliance mired in political persecution, indifference, schadenfreude or a lack of recognition by the establishment. Such storylines are as quintessentially Greek as drama and each might weave their unique pattern into the architecture.    

Aspra Spitia is a settlement to house employees of the Aluminum of Greece factory and mining operations west of Athens. | Photo via Fotiadis

Greeks demonstrated an innate affinity for siting and orientation since their temple building days of antiquity. Stillwell (1954) describes a mastery of form, angle, height and orientation: their temples were a planned succession of experiences that culminated into a grand, final approach of the cult image. Temple construction was an early use of architecture and urban planning principles to deliver a coherent visual and emotional result - exempli gratiaa transcendental, religious experience.

In post-war Greece, architect and urban planner Constantinos Doxiadis drew inspiration from the same fountain of knowledge. He created a seminal worker’s settlement that both transcended the provincial vernacular andchimed in fascinating consonance with its natural surroundings. It is like a place of eternal youth by design  like Logan’s Run Caroussel), where residents never get to grow too old.   

The construction phase on of Aspra Spitia. | Photo via © Doxiadis

Through Ekistics, Doxiadis approached settlements as complex biological organisms. | Photo via Voiotias

Aluminum of Greece was launched in 1960 as a joint venture between the government of Greece and an industrial conglomerate led by the historic French firm Pechiney, a world leader in aluminum manufacturing. As a result, the first aluminum production facility in the country opened on the northern coast of the Corinthian Gulf in 1966. Capitalising on the nearby bauxite ore mines (one of the largest deposits in Europe), the vertically integrated manufacturing process ranged from raw material extraction to the delivery of a range of secondary bauxite and aluminium by-products. It was an ambitious and successful industrial project that created new opportunities for employment for those prepared to settle there. The sheer scale of the industrial unit and its ancillary facilities, however, created an urgent need for housing the employees, prompting the creation of a new settlement nearby. They called it Aspra Spitia (White Houses), and to this day, it remains a model for small scale urban planning with a unique blend of Modernist yet distinctively traditional Greek aura. 

Constantinos Doxiadis in 1975

The urban planning, layout and design of the settlement was masterminded by Constantinos Doxiadis and his associates, who also delivered the first phase of the project. Doxiadis, an experienced urban planner who held various Public Works related government posts for the Greek government between 1937 and 1951, was a leading figure in the country’s post-war reconstruction effort. His private practice has been rising in international prominence since it was founded in the early 1950s; by 1959, he was appointed as chief urban planner for the city of Islamabad, Pakistan, while his firm was involved in numerous local and international projects, prompting him to construct a new headquarters in Athens to house their now 400 strong team of urban planners, architects, and engineers.  

The model for Aspra Spitia. | Photo via © Doxiadis.org

Still, Aspra Spitia was a challenging brief: there was nothing but olive trees and a few vernacular shacks inside the tiny seaside valley. The first wave of French engineers settling at the newfound community were disheartened: this rugged slice of paradise had yet little to show in the way of creature comforts. And there was a looming danger in choosing to deliver a typical, prefab industrial settlement, with identikit housing units built around amenities: that choice of plan was expected to mark the marvellous landscape irreparably, presenting an unsuitable urban continuation of the industrial landscape at the nearby factories and mines. The new resident workers might feel disconnected, transient, and without a sense of belonging to the very habitat they might end up spending their entire career.

A commercial centre Tower | Photo via © astronayths.blogspot.com

However, Doxiadis had a clear vision about Aspra Spitia. His plan was informed by his Ekistics philosophy, first proposed in 1942 and constantly developed since. Through Ekistics, Doxiadis approached human settlements as complex biological organisms - capable of forming connections with each other, constantly evolving, merging and scaling in orderly harmony with the natural environment. And preserving the purity and beauty of the hills, the seafront, and the olive tree fields within the planning scope of a factory, mines and a worker’s settlement at Aspra Spitia became a key challenge. These very different, both natural and man-made constituent units demanded to be re-shaped into a natural fit. This wouldn’t be about forcing an irreverent, modern smudge in the landscape: it’d be about the foundation of an orderly, organic urban environment.

A corner unit of the Phase 1. | Photo via  © astronayths.blogspot.com

Stairs from the Phase 2. | Photo via © astronayths.blogspot.com

Units from the Phase 2. | Photo via © astronayths.blogspot.com

Thankfully, Doxiadis’ Ekistics already proposed such a scalable hierarchy for ordering urban settlements – an arrangement that social and biological sciences concluded was important for the avoidance of chaos. And at the beginning of the scale, there was Anthropos – the individual. It was expected that the aluminium workers would be mostly recruited from the nearby rural areas. Therefore, understanding the familiar traditions those new settlers were expected to carry with them was a crucial design element, as well as preserving the individuality of each constituent unit: each house, each cluster, each neighbourhood had to feel fresh and special, but still flow with identifiable tradition and heritage, also retaining a degree of deference to the natural environment. And the whole ensemble needed to remain functional for its intended purpose, without reverting to picturesque anachronisms.  

All these elements were carefully infused into the inverse L-shaped city plan, which follows the organic contour of the landscape closely: The long leg is flanked by hills, while the short leg is laid across the seafront. Within the resulting space, four neighbourhoods were created, each circled by a peripheral road. The civic, business and administrative forum of the city is located at the junction of the legs, while a recreation and tourism area is laid along the seafront.

The settlement’s main square. 

The design of the residences and public spaces is where it all comes together. Twelve unique house designs were utilized, each standardized with interchangeable elements that enabled the architects to alter the design in intermediate stages of construction. This technique increased the resulting variety of house types to twenty-five, while further variations were achieved by mixing-up the properties of each street in terms of house orientation, elevation, set back, and corner placement. Therefore, each home and each neighborhood look unique, but also retains a thematic familiarity with the whole ensemble of the town. 

Both natural and modern materials are utilized, concrete, wood and local stone. The walls and stone are mostly whitewashed, offering a traditional Greek visual clarity to the settlement. Some stone walls remained natural with intent, in cases where these blended visually with the surrounding olive groves. The preservation and integration of existing olive trees in squares, yards and street layouts was prioritised, and supplemented by re-planting as well as new plantings. Stone fences, pergolas, steps and pavements complete the textured landscaping of each neighborhood, while well placed cul-de-sacs, squares and public thoroughfares complete the harmonious balance of private and public spaces.

Stairs from the Phase 3. | Photo via © Photiadis.gr

Aspra Spitia was completed in three phases, and now boasts 1072 residences housing approximately 3.000 residents. After the completion of the first houses and amenities by Doxiadis Associates, the city expanded both vertically and aesthetically with additions by C.Lembessis, P.Massouridis and M. Photiadis. A series of high rise, larger apartment blocks as well as specific amenities for the individual needs of the workers and the families were erected. These include a business centre, a nursery, and even a Catholic church for servicing the religious needs of the French settlers. One of the most ground breaking amenities was the installation of a sewage water treatment plant, which was the first of its kind in Greece at the time.

A series of specific amenities for the individual needs of the workers and the families were erected, like the nursery. | Photo via © Photiadis.gr

In terms of administration, Aspra Spitia is not far from the purpose-built, model socialist towns of the former Eastern Block. The settlement belongs to Aluminium of Greece (AL), and working in the mines or factories is a prerequisite for obtaining a house or a flat. A point system exists to help fulfil housing needs accurately, allocating the right type of property per household size. Residents are only required to pay a token monthly rent, while all property maintenance and upkeep is handled by the company. Naturally, these privileges last only for the duration of employment. Workers who wish to move on to another company or reach retirement age aren’t eligible to stay anymore: they are required to vacate their house, after making all necessary alternative arrangements. This is a town where people are not expected to grow old, and the reason why a cemetery was never planned as part of the urban grid (the nearest ones can be found in surrounding villages).  

If Ekistics is about approaching urban environments in biological terms, then Aspra Spitia possibly holds the secret for urban immortality: free from the mortal vestiges of permanence and ownership, this is a model town that is, and will remain as fresh and tidy as planned over half a century ago.   

The Church. | Photo via © astronayths.blogspot.com

The next stop is a few miles across the water from Aspra Spitia, where a forgotten Isthmia Prime Motel presents an abstract expression of three Classical disciplines: architecture, mathematics and music.

The unassuming roadside motel by the Isthmus of Corinth is an intriguing cross between Brutalism and the Classical Orders. | Photo by © Exporabilia

In its heyday, the main motorway linking the greater metropolitan area of Athens to the city of Corinth in the south west was one of the busiest arteries in Greece's road network. Built between 1960 and 1969, the motorway would hug the craggy cliffs outside the capital with its narrow ledge, offering breath-taking, and somewhat dangerous views of the sea below. Vehicles would naturally slow down at the Isthmus of Corinth, the canal that allowed shipping to navigate the strip of land connecting the Peloponnese to Attica. The slow crossing of the Isthmus Bridge enabled passengers to admire the view of the man-made chasm below, and traditionally led to a quick pit stop on the other side of the canal. 

The Isthmus region was becoming a very popular weekend escape with Athenians post war. At about one hour drive from the capital, it was near, yet far enough to enjoy the sea and fresh air. Small villas and seaside hotels sprang out in local villages and hamlets for weekenders to escape the hustle and bustle of a rapidly urbanizing Athens.

Panos Spiliotakos presenting his work. | Photo via © ema-arch.com

It is at this popular stopover area past the canal, where the strangely alluring hotel was built in 1969 in a collaboration between composer Iannis Xenakis and urban planner Panos Spiliotakos, two visionary friends expressing their common architectural heritage.

Iannis Xenakis | Photo via © Adelmann Collection of Françoise Xenakis

Xenakis was perhaps the most well-known of the duo. He was a Greek multidisciplinary artist with a passion for music and engineering and an unquestionable aptitude in both. He survived the war suffering a terrible face wound - caused by shrapnel from a shell fired by a British tank into a crowd of Communist protesters demonstrating in the streets of Athens in December 1944. As a qualified engineer, he left for Paris in 1947 where he worked under Le Corbusier at the Unite D'Habitation and Convent De La Tourette.

Le Corbusier with Iannis Xenakis. | Photo © Iannis Xenakis

During that period, and through his own musical culture, Xenakis soon realised that the same complex spatial geometrical patterns applied in Le Corbusier's architecture - the structural calculations, the intersecting tones and curves - could be applied to the composition of music too. His seminal 1955 musical work Metastaseis (lit.transmutations) was inspired by Einsteinian ideas about time and space, and utilised the mathematical principles of the Fibonacci sequence and the Golden Section structured around Le Corbusier's architectural calculations. It shocked the world of contemporary music at the time: this was original Brutalist music, with all the sonic cantilevers, rebar and board marking you could handle.

The Algorithmic Compositions of Metastaseis

Xenakis' knowledge of architecture allowed him to use graphic notation to represent his music. The string glissandi and other musical motions of his piece, representing sonic beams with time on one axis and pitch on another, looked less like sheet music, and more like a blueprint. With Le Corbusier occupied in the construction of Chandigarh in India,  Xenakis went on to design the Phillips Pavilion in Brussels Expo 58 on his behalf. It's a unique marriage of music and architecture, with its hyperbolic paraboloid masses deriving from the musical landscape of his own Metastaseis.

Inside the Pavilion, an expansive array of speakers and dials were arranged in an acousmonium: an avant-garde playback device used to spatialize musical scores. The array had been invented in the 1940s by proponents of musique concrète, an experimental circle of composers with whom Xenakis was associated. Further musical scores by Xenakis and Edgard Varese were performed this way throughout the pavilion, creating a unique meta-experience that fused architecture and music like never before.

The Phillips Pavilion in Brussels Expo 1958. | Photo © Wouter Hagens

True to the genius of Iannis Xenakis, the building by the Corinthian Isthmus emanates a classical aura throughout. Built as a modern diversorium (a roadside inn), it reflects the long Graeco-Roman resort heritage of the area. The sulphur baths at nearby Thermae (today's Loutraki) attracted visitors since the antiquity. Many classical villas and baths have been discovered in the region through the years. It makes perfect sense that Isthmia Prime's characteristic main entrance colonnade is made of 12 stern, board-marked concrete columns, a Modernist throwback to the Doric order of the nearby Temple of Apollo. The colonnade is supporting the 3-storey main residential block, with the rooms arranged obliquely to the main axis to maximise the beautiful views of the Gulf of Corinth beyond.

The colonnade is supporting the 3-storey main residential block, with the rooms arranged obliquely to the main axis. | Photo by Exporabilia

The triangular concrete antefixeson the flat roof is another wink to the floral anthemiaof antiquity, the decorative palmettes that adorned the eaves of ancient Greek and Roman buildings. The block is intersected by the reception and services area at ground level, allowing for a practical green area at the front with a star shaped pond. Iannis Xenakis reminded us that rhythm, as symmetrical repetition, is the ancient, supernatural bond that links mathematics, music and architecture. Isthmia Prime is an elegant, if somewhat forgotten example of these classical and artistic traditions, fused expertly together with his characteristic elan.

The building at Corinth is a Modernist throwback to certain familiar artistic traditions of Classical antiquity. At the corollary of this Athenian-centric luminary ethos, there’s a counterpart a Spartan-centric ethos, founded on the principle of selfless sacrifice as the pinnacle of civic achievement. Naturally, there’s less opportunity to go down fighting under a hail of arrows in our day. But dedicating one’s life in the service of the state is here presented as a visual metaphor of Sparta’s finest traditions in the Modernist Necropolis of Magoula.

The waveform of the Magoula Cemetery is symbolic of the up's and downs we go through life. | Photo by Exporabilia

The new city of Sparta was founded in 1834 at the behest of Otto, the Bavarian prince who became the first King of Greece in the aftermath of the nation’s successful war of independence. He embarked on a revivalist program that aimed to modernize and urbanize Greek towns. The project was led by Eduard Schaubert,a Prussian architect and topographer who studied under Karl Friedrich Schinkel in Berlin’s Bauakademie. Schaubert also re-designed Athens, Pireaus and other major Greek cities, finely tuning their plethora of Classical and Byzantine sites with the Neoclassical neighborhoods, squares, and administrative buildings that typified the Greek national revival. This is how Sparta, previously obliterated by the Goths in the 4thcentury, was restored by royal decree in 1837. The re-established Sparta became, in fact, the first of the new Greek towns whose design was based on an actual urban plan – thus breaking with the disorderly, vernacular yoke of medieval urban spaces.

A century later, Sparta remained a quaint agricultural town, virtually unchanged since Schaubert planned it. The beautiful neoclassical facades were crumbling, and the street grid had deteriorated and was unsuitable for the ever-increasing motor vehicle traffic. The sewage system was old, and problematic. What’s more, modern Sparta was a city with a distinctive lack of modern facilities and monuments – it was becoming lethargic, almost as if the Goths had somehow travelled forward in time, sacking it again into oblivion. 

There are entrances to either end of the arches, one leading to a small functions area, and another to the ossuary. | Photo by Exporabilia

The man who changed all that was Georgios Sainopoulos, the philanthropist who became mayor of Sparta for two terms, over a period of 8 years between 1964 and 1978 (interrupted by the Colonels’ Junta, who ousted him between 1967 and 1974). Sainopoulos dedicated his life to the improvement of urban life in Sparta, delivering numerous projects related to sport and cultural facilities, new road & water network infrastructure, and monumental public art. The 1964 cemetery at the satellite hamlet of Magoula was created at his behest - this was his birthplace, and where he seemed to make an almost personal statement about his intention to take the city out of its enduring quagmire, and into an era of progress. The cemetery, alongside other luminary philanthropic projects, was realised via donations he secured from close relatives Ioannis and Catherine Sainopoulos, Greek emigres based in Oklahoma, USA. He then invited local architects Charilaos and Sophia Polychronopoulos to deliver his vision of a surprising modern necropolis that exceeded conventional expectations.

Windows reflect the bright Peloponnesian sunshine in the colors of the CIAM grid green, red, yellow and blue, creating a kaleidoscope of colours inside the space where the funerary chests are kept. | Photo by Exporabilia

Sainopoulos might have been informed by his own experience of monumental modernism as a visitor during the Olympic games of Helsinki in 1952. It would have been an inspirational showcase of Nordic Modernism, exemplifying Olympic ideals, and much of it can still be admired to this day. The waveform these arches form at Magoula is said to be symbolic of the ups and downs we experience throughout life. There are entrances to either end of the arches: one leading to a small functions area, and another to the ossuary, both decorated with saints and religious figures made out of bent rebar. The windows reflect the bright Peloponnesian sunshine in the colours of the CIAM grid: green, red, yellow and blue, creating a kaleidoscope of colors inside the space where the funerary chests are kept.

Ancient Spartan traditions exemplified order and simplicity in all aspects of life, which often carried into funerary rites. Spartans were buried among the living, in anonymous graves inside the city walls. Only those fallen in battle, or women dying in childbirth were deemed important enough to merit their names on gravestones, typically lined up along busy thoroughfares & promenades – therefore transforming their tombs into public monuments.  Further inside the Magoula cemetery proper, it is evident that several graves have been created in deviation to the unremarkable, marble-clad basilica orthodoxy of Greek cemeteries: the scale, shapes and materials are different, and there are statues, busts, carvings and funerary symbols that simultaneously reflect a sense of civic grandeur, and a closer affinity to the Western European funerary canon.

Shapes and materials of graves are different, statues and symbols reflect a closer affinity to European funerary traditions. | Photo by Exporabilia

Leonidas, the famous king who fell in Thermopylae was perhaps the most well-known son of Sparta. It is said that his remains were posthumously transferred to Sparta and deposited at Leonideon, a rectangular tomb close to the agora that can still be seen today. And as opposed to the more modern, extra muros Roman burial traditions, there’s consequence in the way that the tombs of all true citizens become very much a part of the living urban space. But especially the tombs of those who, like Leonidas, contributed significantly more to perpetuate the lore of their communities, become monuments of civic pride, and public remembrance. Uniquely, Sainopoulos' own resting place is a sizeable vault, accessible through a flight of steps near the entrance to the cemetery. It is a feature rarely - if ever - seen in contemporary Greek cemeteries, and underlines the important character of the site’s mastermind. Arguably, this space represents a somewhat obscure link between the principled simplicity of the Spartans and the visual clarity of Modernist architecture. Deciphered in the key of the region’s Spartan heritage, the beautiful ensemble at the cemetery of Magoula is so much more than the average burial site usually seen in Greek towns : it is a poignant memorial showcase of lives well lived in the service of the local community, beautifully conveyed through the avant-garde architectural mind set of the 1960s.

An eclectic, monumental ensemble that fuses Classical, Byzantine and Romantic architectural styles. | Photo © M. Hulot

The civic principles of the Hellenistic world eventually clashed with the tenets of Christianity. In Greece this tectonic collision created new philosophical and artistic planes that inadvertently radiated their common roots, despite the necessities of doctrinal contrasts. Understanding this blend is quintessential to understanding the modern Greek psyche. The temple of Agia Foteini of Mantineia is the ideal visual representation for this melding process.  

In the sunlit Arcadian plain close to the ancient city of Mantineia, there’s a church like no other. It’s an astonishing melange of styles, combining elements of Classical, Byzantine and Modern architecture, and yet remaining true to none. Its construction is the life’s work of architect and iconographer Kostas  who has delivered an epic display of drama, faith and devotion that has astonished and divided ever since.

Heroic Tomb, Jacob’s Well and the Church’s Entrance. | Photo © M. Hulot

Papatheodorou was exposed to gothic religious architecture, particularly influenced by Erwin Von Steinbach's work in Strassbourg Cathedral. After his studies he returned to Greece in 1967, where he worked for the Ministry of Culture, studying further under the architect Dimitris Pikionis. During his tenure there, he was exposed to the idea of building a monumental church on behalf of the Mantineian Association, a cultural group dedicated to the preservation of the antiquities of Ancient Mantineia in the southern region of Peloponnese. Bewildered by the beautiful scenery, the majesty of the ancient site, and the character of local customs, he proposed the design of an extraordinary building that captured the region’s quintessence: a visual link among the Classical, Byzantine and Modern traditions of Arcadia.

A mosaic inside the church. | Photo © M. Hulot

He resigned his public service role in 1970 to dedicate himself to the project, which eventually became a lifelong commitment. No formal contract was drawn, funding was scarce, mostly based on charity grants and donations from locals and members of the Mantineian Association. Driven by an almost divine inspiration, Papatheodorou moved on location, living in a tent pitched next to the site. This way, he could absorb the spirit of the locality, and focus on the formative stages of the project unhindered. He was often seen roaming construction sites and recycling centres in nearby towns, gathering reject materials: cornerstones from demolished townhouses, leftover marble slab fragments, or broken clay tiles from old roofs. He worked mostly alone, collecting, measuring, chiselling the materials, shaping and piecing the fragments together into an astonishing monument that soon began taking shape. His only help was unskilled manual labour provided by local farmhands. The Classical and Byzantine parts and techniques merge into one another on the walls and bell towers of the church, creating a visual disruption that expresses the forward motion of history - as one era blends into another, leaving its indelible mark at the seams of history. The church becomes a visual representation of the area’s disparate yet interlinked memories, converging through the aeons to create a homogeneous body of local culture.  

The main entrance. | Photo © M. Hulot

The main structure was completed by 1974, then the interior work began. Inside the church, we see the expression of the architect as an iconographer: The concept of stylistic variety continues, with sequences of religious and pagan themes combining on the mosaics and wall paintings. Classical symbolism such as meanders, pastoral or hunting scenes abound, and figures in ancient togas blend with Christian saints dressed in modern attire, such as jeans and t-shirts. It was too much for a portion of local clergy, who began raising eyebrows: certain offending visuals are then amended to avert the church being characterised as inappropriate for consecration. Conservative circles begin to gossip Papatheodorou, accusing him of irreverence and idolatry. Some others allege that he has unlawfully appropriated materials from the ruined temples and shrines of Ancient Mantineia to incorporate in his church. 

But those who recognized and appreciated his work also lend their support – architects, archaeologists and art curators underlines the multidisciplinary reach of his work. The famous Greek painter Yiannis Tsarouchis described the church vividly as fresh water for those in thirst: “When I saw the church, I felt the elation one feels when a justified complaint is suppressed. I’ve heard people characterise Kostas Papatheodorou as an “aping architect”. What I found at the church, however, was a genuine heartbreak, a desperate confession. In our age of fake moralism and ludicrous rationalism, these rare qualities become as important as a vein of fresh water during drought”    

The next few years saw the construction of two ancillary buildings, a miniature Classical shrine dedicated to local war heroes, and a fountain with a circular colonnade, representing the biblical fable of Jacob’s Well. The Church is considered work in progress to this day. Some contemporary critics stated that the Church of Agia Foteini of Mantineia is the Greek Sagrada Familia. This may be a somewhat flattering, even inflammatory characterisation for some. There are parallels, however, between the work of Antonio Gaudi and Kostas Papatheodorou as both churches are considered incomplete, both architects deployed their proficiency in a number of related disciplines, incorporating these in their design - ceramics and wrought ironwork for Gaudi, it’s iconography and mosaics for Papatheodorou. Gaudi pioneered the use of trencadís, his famous mosaics made of reject materials, broken tiles, shards of glass, china or shells. Papatheodorou employed a similar technique by fashioning reject materials - such as stones and tiles - as found into walls, towers and mosaics. Last, both architects are inspired by Gothic religious architecture, and they are driven and inspired by their faith, which leads them to wholly devote their lives in their work. Agia Foteini of Mantineia might not have the scale or monumental appeal of the Sagrada Familia. It is however an equally unique spiritual monument, and an important symbol of the historic, cultural and religious ties that bind the people of Arcadia together.  

Conceptual Scale Model of the Round School. | Photo © leximata

The resurgent Greek culture of the 19th century was inspired by the glow of its classical heritage, yet emerged fatefully disconnected from it. The impetus with which Greeks used to strive to make sense of what constitutes justice, of what makes an ideal community, or what is good governance - all philosophical questions explored in Plato’s Republic - had become secondary to the medieval moral and civic conventions of the late Byzantine era, and its disastrous outcomes.  By the 20th century, a Neo-Hellenic culture has taken hold, characterised by romantic reminiscence, counterproductive self-pity, blind revanchism, and endemic corruption. Inside this purgatory, a vicious circle of astonishing success is always followed by stupefying failure, in an unplanned state of permanent complacency that is always attributed to certain fantastical others. It is a moral decline that Constantine Cavafis alluded to in his poem “Waiting for the Barbarians”, and is without doubt the starting point of the country’s recent string of financial and political failures. 

Breaking this craven mould, Takis Zenetos was the Greek modernist architect who demonstrated unbridled optimism and progressive vision through his work. He has a rightful place in my obscure pantheon, another important 20th century personality that epitomized the virtue of living up to one’s own high standards of moral and civic duty.   

Round School top down view. | Photo © Dimitris Vosios

Agios Dimitrios (often referred to with its pre-1928 name, Brahami) is one of the most densely populated suburbs of Athens with a density comparable to Cairo or Seoul. The typical expedience and maladministration that characterized post-war Greece has left its indelible mark in the suburb’s architecture: its arbitrarily arranged streets define pocket upon pocket of unimaginative apartment blocks that connect to those of surrounding suburbs to form a veritable sea of concrete and tarmac. This is the result of the “flats for land” legislation of 1929, which enabled owners to give up their neoclassical houses in return for a flat or two in the uninspiring concrete tenements and high rises that soon began to blot out the quaint early 20c. suburban landscape. The desperate measure was initially brought in to manage the pressing housing needs of destitute immigrants from Asia Minor in the 1920s and 1930s. The 1.6 million displaced were joining a country of 5 million. This summary convenience was extended to solve later rapid urbanisation problems, such as the Axis occupation and its aftermath. Throughout the 1940s and 1950s, people fled the Civil War and the prospect of a hard life in their devastated villages and sought a better future in the capital, whose extant high density infrastructure had been equally ruined in a month of tenacious urban confrontation between Communist guerrillas and Government forces (the Decembriana of 1944).

The new architecture principle is educational autonomy, its curves disrupt the sea of high rise blocks that surround it. | Photo © Thomas Andreopoulos

This short term, anarchic character of Greece’s urban planning mentality was deeply troubling for Takis Zenetos. Born and active in Athens for most of his life, he must have witnessed the entire devastating process first-hand: the consequence of conflict in the capital’s urban grid, coupled with the inexcusable sloppiness of the state managing it. The occupation interrupted his studies at the National Technical University (the Metsovion), but in 1945 he moved to Paris to continue at the Ecole Des Beaux Arts under Otello Zavaroni. He was influenced by the order and principles of Modernist architecture in France, before coming back to Athens to practice in 1955. For the next decade, Zenetos designed and built sensational, distinctively Modernist factories, apartment blocks and private villas, always in partnership with his friend Margaritis Apostolidis.

In 1962, Zenetos presented his theoretical concept of Electronic Urbanism founded upon his understanding that science and technology will revolutionize human living. He imagined the new social interaction and communication protocols of the future world; his ideas describe, in principle, what we know today as email, video calling and cloud sharing. His faith in the catalytic influence these would have in our daily lives was well ahead of its time, and informed his architectural designs. His “Furniture 2000”, a multimedia lounge chair for controlling the connected household of the future won a honorable mention in at the Interdesign 2000 competition in 1967. 

Furniture 2000 | Photo via Tomorrows project

Zenetos envisaged futuristic networked cities, evolving around frameworks of massive, flexible cables. These web-like networks would solve the problem of urban regeneration once and for all, allowing the constituent components of the urban landscape - such as buildings, services, or amenities - to attach and detach, becoming replaceable parts of a whole that would easily adapt to the flow of an evolution driven by technology. At the same time, the natural environment would remain at ground level, unaffected. It would have been a landscape pure from infrastructure, with high-tech cities literally hanging from the skies.

Takis Zenetos The Hanging Hotel (1967). | Photo via Mascontext

We can take a glimpse at this unconventional approach, the capacity to innovate, his desire to disrupt the grim post-war urban architecture of Athens at the Round School of Agios Dimitrios. The Modernist rotunda is perhaps his most ambitious surviving work, and the one that still remains closest to his vision – since many of the private residences and factories he designed have either been demolished by municipal authorities on a whim and without consultation, or significantly altered. The reason the school survives mostly unaltered can be credited to the way Zenetos infused the built structure with his vision.

But there’s also a visual message. A new language emerges in the refined way the Round School’s Modernist curves disrupt the sea of high-rise blocks that surround it. This is an empowering environment of uniqueness and self-determination, and an anti-hierarchical symbolism designed to unclutter the young minds from the institutional architectural cues they are confronted by in educational spaces. It’s a bastion against the inner-city uniformity of Agios Dimitrios, of any Greek town.  By raising the bar well above the Ministry of Education’s typology of schoolhouse ergonomics, Zenetos created an outstanding building that facilitates communication with its occupants, and a space that attunes them to the concept of individuality. His message hasn’t been lost to many generations of students, many of whom still reminisce of their journey in learning at the Round School with feelings of immense pride and appreciation.    

The Round School is a personal statement, a defiant stand against an overwhelming standard of mediocrity. | Photo © Thano Baf 

There’s no other Greek school like it, either before, or after this veritable piece de resistance. It is different, inspiring, a beautiful affront to an entire country’s post-war urban architecture manual. It is the product of a vision lost, but not entirely forgotten. Zenetos grew increasingly alienated by the lack of appreciation for his futuristic vision by the establishment. Frustrated by his inability to influence the change he believed in with all his heart, he took his own life in 1977.    

—

#FOMA 37: Evan Panagopoulos

Evan Panagopoulos is the urban storyteller behind alternative site Explorabilia. He’s an avid fan of Brutalist and Mid-century architecture, likes engaging with abandoned spaces and obscure history, and expresses what he’s passionate about through writing and photography. His Forgotten Greece tour is available to book on Airbnb and Atlas Obscura.

#forgotten masterpieces #foma

[lunarnirvana]

Lavender Moon

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Please not read if these subjects upset or trigger you in any way. Heavy themes are present in my writing.

Descriptions of abduction, hospital setting, language, Vomiting, mentions of s*icide, non-consensual drug use, seizure, some descriptions involving gore, blood, injury, reader drugged, mentions of LSD and tripping, anxiety symptoms.

Prompt: Nicole’s Alphabet Angst for 8K - Occult

Summery: Reid and Reader are dating when a case involving the occult dredges up turmoil between the happy couple. The case being difficult enough, the resemblance between the Reader and the victims leaves Reid uneasy… (Full summary at bottom of writing so as not to spoil but if you’re worried about the content I’ll always add the full summary at the bottom! Stay safe)

Category: Angst with some fluff sprinkled here and there (Happy ending)

Word count: 7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU Female Reader

A/N: I hope saying this doesn’t discourage anyone from reading but this is my first imagine! I guess not that I’ve written, just posted. I’m kind of really nervous about putting this out there but why not? Also for future reference I write very intense and real things and I want this to be a safe place for everyone which is why I will try to be as thorough with my trigger warnings as humanly possible but if there is ever anything written that I did not warn you about before the writing I apologize and PLEASE let me know so I can make it a priority to include that warning in the future. Ty and tpwk <3 enjoy 

“No evil ever came from a woman’s womb that wasn’t placed there first by a man.”

― Charles A. Cornell

Her intuition never betrayed her.

It was lodged deep inside her throat, the swell of hesitation like a globule that obstructed any resourceful observations about the crime scene photos. The innate feeling that the case was destined for calamity. Y/N didn’t let the gravity of her work weigh on her mental state until she was in the comfort of her confides where she could lick her psychological scars in peace.

The entire BAU regarded their unspoken directive was to bottle any reaction to the happenstances of the case with little exception. As they congregated at the round table they’d bind their biases against their eyes with the blindfolds they used to avoid looking at the bodies for too long. If you stared for too long into those gaping gashes, the blackness of the cavernous body would consume you completely. This is what they all knew to be true and so they pursued beasts with scar tissue forming over their minds and volatile hands with stoic accuracy.

This accuracy was entirely derivative of their abilities to detach from the emotional aspects of the case.

Garcia was the exception to this jurisdiction, her back turned against the horrific gore on the screen yet she described the carnage as if she were looking at it. She threw in some embellishments and innuendos for certain aspects that were too nauseating to repeat.

“We’ve got a local case today. Linda Jefferson and Kayla Burnen were the first two victims of what local PD wrote off as a suicide pact at first,” Garcia explained, “After further inspection, though, they discovered an incredibly high, nearly lethal dosage of LSD in their blood.”

Reid spoke up beside her when he noticed something in the tox-analysis results, startling Y/N slightly, “It's not synthesized in the same manner, though. There are certain proteins missing that would make this particular substance would ensure an emergence phenomenon would happen regardless of the environment.”

He let his hand fall into his lap so his girlfriend could trace figure eights in his palm with the tip of her finger in some apologetic gesture for the trivial fright as he chided. They’d been together for a year now so he understood what comforted her and what didn’t.

“So you’re saying they took bad acid? Growing up in my generation I can vouch that I never felt compelled to shoot someone under the influence,” Rossi chuckled at his own shortcomings and garnered amusement from the team.

“Actually, I believe this particular form of LSD was tampered with to cause a bad trip. You’d either have to be an idiot to make LSD this way or…” Reid drifted off, letting someone else conclude what was already obvious to him.

“You’d have to do it on purpose. You can’t mess up that bad and it not be intentional,” Emily agreed, bobbing her head back and forth while the raven locks framing her elongated facade veiled around her expression.

“A few days after those two were found,” She flipped the slide, “Beth Myers and Lola Sanchez were found in the same area with the same exact M.O. No correlations to the first two victims or to each other.”

Reid felt the way Y/N’s finger swirled against his palm and traced the creases in his skin before flipping his hand over so she could run her soft touch across his veins and phalanges. She found his hands fascinating suddenly, more fascinating than the case. When Garcia flipped to the picture of the victims he felt a sudden pressure as Y/N locked her grip around his hand. She squeezed it for reassurance as the smiling women stared at them through the screen.

“The victims had blood-let themselves, were covered in melted wax from candles, were placed in white nightgowns, and were forced to finish one another off by stabbing each other in the chests,” Garcia winced as she recited the details.

Y/H/C, the texture of their hair, and resemblance with her was the aligning factor between the four and it made Y/N’s chest wrench at the thought of being drugged with such petrifying euphoric paranoia. She could tell her boyfriend noticed her reaction but didn’t bother to meet his concerned gaze. He just stared down at her avoidance in yearning for some communication although he rarely gave her that courtesy himself. He could tell she held reservations about the case, especially when they realized the unsub was following ritualistic patterns and protocols, the occultism sprinkled through the murders like decoration.

Reid never took holding her hand for granted but in this instance he swore he heard bones cracking. Y/N was comforted by the gesture but realized she was hurting him when she felt him begin to crumble under the pain beside her. She turned to him quickly and released her vice-grip.

“Sorry, sorry,” She whispered toward him, not wanting to disturb the briefing.

“Its fine, hun, but what’s wrong?” He pressed.

She shrugged and slouched back into her chair, sinking into the seat as if it would express her silence. She told herself it was just anxiety and eventually convinced herself it was her own self doubt causing her to have such a guttural feeling. She watched the clock for the rest of her shift before gathering her personal effects from the surface of her desk, sweeping the items into her bag. Reid watched her maneuver rather quickly to get her things together. Expecting her to wait for him like always, he bent down to grab his satchel but when he arose she was halfway to the elevators, shuffling through interns and her coworkers to leave.

He followed her down to the lobby before bringing it up.

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you, love. What is it?” His hand had fallen to the small of her back as they walked out of the east entrance together.

“It just freaks me out sometimes, you know? The whole occultism thing,” Her voice was suddenly softer than he remembered.

Typically, this disquieted nature was portrayed by him but she remained unnerved the entire walk down. Something churned in her stomach and converted her into a placid arrangement of unease. Y/N despised the corruption of any establishment but this particular subject hit her square in the chest.

He smiled down to her while they approached the rugged vehicle parked on the far end of the lot. “Occult-related homicides are a statistical anomaly. They’re highly uncommon, Y/N/N, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

She nodded as she pulled the keys to her car out and passed them to him, “Can you drive?”

“Of course but only if I can pick the playlist,” He smirked, snatching the jangling keyring from where it swang on her index finger.

“No way in hell,” She giggled, “I am not listening to Bach the whole way home.”

She slipped into her seat and immediately her leg began to bounce with disarm. She tried to steady it herself as she watched Reid bend down to face her before getting in.

“I was gonna put on Brahms for your information,” His slender body folded into the front seat and he turned the key over in the ignition. Noticing her shaking leg, he reached his arm across the center console to rest on her knee as he began pulling out. It soothed under his touch and he smirked knowing exactly how to ease her even with the slightest gestures.

The base of the lamp was a wicker configuration and it flooded the room with brilliant fiery luminescence, the walls suddenly painted a pastel yellow from the warm lighting emitted from their bedside table. Along with that, illuminating the neglected contours of the room were a few white candles that burned on Y/N’s wooden bureau. Wax congregated at the foot of the tall towers of flame and spilled over the sides of the candle holder onto the wood.

The encapsulating smell of Nag Champa incense shrouded the room blending with the wafting smoke streaming from the ember-littered sage Reid’s eclectic bedmate’s hands. Y/N watched the silver scarf dance above the end of the dried bundle as it swirled around the room. Her eyes followed the smoke, eyelashes veiling her sight giving her a dark allure that Reid couldn’t keep his eyes off of.

He didn’t mind that she liked to indulge in the holistic benefits of burning herbs or the countless books she had on witchcraft and the occult. He found it charming. Although he knew when she was upset she’d do these “cleansing rituals” which really did nothing more than make their room smell like a Grateful Dead concert. She never was discomforted by the fact the unsub was utilizing occultist beliefs, she was upset at the perversion of her practice.

Of course, he was sworn to secrecy against telling the team about her hobby. She knew she’d be teased into oblivion for such an unorthodox collection of semi-precious stone, herbs, and essential oils that she claimed assisted trivial offenses. That was the aspect of her avocation Reid disagreed with.

They’d debated about it before but both were keen on their bias and so they agreed to leave the subject as an unspoken rift and move forward. Reid still found the smell of the incense suffocating especially when his migraines trickled in. She’d slip rosemary and peppermint into his tea to help his chronic condition but whenever he would catch the taste he’d beg her not to use her ‘pseudoscience’s instruction’ on him. Each time they’d get into an argument about it but eventually it’d fizzle out in sniffing apologies and fond interactions generally ensued.

“You’re really going to town on the bad juju tonight, huh?” He spoke up from behind his book. It was always strange to hear his shift in nomenclature when he left work, his vocabulary becoming relaxed and casual. He practically bathed in her relaxing aura. He would describe her the same way she describes the effects of lavender when she tried to spray some on his pillow to help him sleep.

He told her he didn’t need it as long as she was sleeping next to him and that was the first night they shared a bed. He hadn’t left her apartment since.

“I have a bad feeling about this case, Spence. I’d like to clear the negative energy from the room,” She said, waving the burning bundle of dried sage around the bed.

“The creepy ass painting you bought from the farmer’s market is still on the wall so I don’t think it’s working,” Reid laughed. She shot him a small warning glare that resulted in the two of them collapsing into hysterics.

She plopped on the bed, clutching her stomach from laughing with him as the tightening delight in her stomach began to burn. Reid was cackling, trying to make out the words, “You looked like a disgruntled care bear.” She felt relief from the laughter when his hand coiled around her waist and tucked her against his chest for safe keeping. She felt his soft lips quiet his dissipating chuckles as they pressed against her forehead.

The sage was smouldering against an abalone shell beside the bed and Reid let Y/N burn the candles throughout the night despite his heedings that it was a fire hazard. It seemed to bring serenity to her and that’s all he was concerned with.

They remained entangled like chains in a jewelry box, Reid soon enveloping her in his grasp completely. He worried that the victims looked too similar to her as he struggled to fall asleep beside her but eventually, the rhythmic movement of her breathing against him brought him enough poise to sleep.

The case dragged out across a couple of weeks stretching resources and mindsets across the vast expanse of interrogation and interviews. They sharpened the victimology down to a finite point to dig into the unsub’s plans and wrench him away from his potential choices. They were delivering the profile to the police department when Y/N noticed Reid’s hand was now tightly gripping hers instead of their usual routine.

He held their hands behind them so the crowd wouldn’t see the unprofessionalism. As each new victim was discovered resembling the woman he woke up to every morning he began feeling that same tension she’d expressed. Now, as he heard the profile, it brought an agitation to his stomach. His grip was tight and unwavering and unlike hers it didn’t shake at all. It was like he was afraid if he let her go, the unsub would be lying in wait behind them to snatch her away.

“We believe he’s a male caucasian driving a blue Ford Crown Victoria which he uses to abduct the women,” Rossi began.

“His victims are aged twenty three to twenty eight and we think he’s in the same age bracket,” Hotch continued as the soft sound of scribbling followed.

“Combining that with the fact he can synthesize LSD into a more aggressive formula suggests we’re dealing with a highly intelligent unsub with an extensive knowledge in chemistry,” Reid said monotonously despite his conflict.

“This isn’t surprising. Psychopaths often have above average intelligence. Coupled that with trauma relating to a religious mother figure who was abusive in some respect. Either his biological mother or a foster parent,” JJ nodded through her portion, her dark ocean eyes striking every gaze in motherly vivacity.

Y/N sat up, “For some reason this unsub will not engage in the killing himself. He watches the two victims kill one another under the influence of drugs and instructs them on how to mutilate one another,” she suddenly felt Reid’s hand leave hers but remained focused on the expectant faces of the precinct, “His M.O. is consistent with occult sacrifices. It's a form of homicidal voyeurism that could represent his own impotency or may be a forensic countermeasure.”

Reid lurched forward, pushing himself off of the edge of the desk and excused himself politely as he walked back toward the bathrooms. Y/N turned over her shoulder to look, her eyebrows wrought with concern but Emily’s modulated voice leashed her back into delivering the profile.

“He’s been consistently choosing his victims to coincide with the seven deadly sins. First greed where the first two victims were taken from a casino then lust. The third and fourth victims were in an online BDSM chatting room when they were lured into a threesome with the unsub where he killed them. Because of this consistency in his signature, we’ve predicted his next choice is going to be Envy,” Emily explained.

“His target location is going to be an underground swingers club. Our team and some members of the force will be undercover as security for the club. You’re looking for anyone who might complain that they’ve been roofied or look for women who seem overly intoxicated,” Morgan informed.

Y/N leaned back into the table behind her while she quickly spoke, trying desperately to rush through the profile to check on her boyfriend, “So far he’s been following the major astrological events happening in the past month. Tomorrow night is a Harvest Moon and a partial solar eclipse which fits his preference. Excuse me.”

As soon as the sentence ended she was following Reid to the bathroom. She turned behind her to see the crowd still mesmerized by the team as they briefed them and took the opportunity to slip inside unnoticed. She knew Hotch and Morgan would pester the two of them about it later but she couldn’t help it. She saw the way his face shifted to a paled green hue and how he gripped his stomach as he pushed the swinging door open.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw his oxfords poking out of the stall and the sound of retching echoed in the bathroom. Y/N ran beside him and rubbed circles into his back, feeling tears well at her waterline and threaten to spill over. She blinked them away quickly to not upset him any more. Guilt wracked her chest.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok,” She soothed and crouched beside him in the stall so that she could rest her head on his shoulder blade. She watched her hand slide across the woven knit of his cardigan, smoothing the fibers down and continued to try and calm him. She could feel him sobbing dryly, his back arching with each heave. Eventually he felt it was safe to lean back against the far wall of the stall and face her.

The skin around his eyes puckered with irritation, shining with the tears that slipped from the corners. He closed them tightly, wrinkling his face in an agonized expression while Y/N leaned forward. She rested her hands on his knees that were awkwardly sprawled in different directions in the small confides of the stall. She sat between them, tucked into herself so as to not take up too much room.

“Talk to me, Spencer,” she pleaded.

He actually decided to, exhausted by the weight of the bodies that piled in the morgue and his quivering stomach. “I’m worried about you being on this case. I don’t want you to get,” he gagged on the rest of the sentence and vomited into the porcelain bowl again.

“Baby, please stop worrying about it so much,” she was begging now as tears began to haphazardly fall onto his back. He sat up at the sensation and resumed his previous position.

His horse voice came forward now as he tried to swallow the mucus that lined his throat now. “Promise me you won’t leave my side until this case is over, okay? Until the unsub is in custody,” He asked her through his darkly adorned eyes.

“I promise,” She assured and it brought a relief to his nausea, “I have mouthwash and ginger gum in my bag. I’m gonna text Morgan to come bring me it—“

“I can walk, honey. If you tell Morgan he’ll call me something like barf boy for a week,” he chuckled and began to sit up. His legs wobbled beneath him slightly but he caught himself on her shoulders. She gripped his elbows tightly.

“You’re dehydrated, come here,” She lead him to the sink where he could wash up and rinse the taste of bile from his tongue.

Pulsating basslines berated Reid’s chest making him feel like he was choking on the loud music. He despised clubs like these dipped in technicolor animosity and relishing in the electronic stimulation the club reverberated. Each member was stationed at certain points of the room such as beside exits, the landings of stairwells, and an agent at each corner. Y/N was beside the bar vehemently watching each drink poured and handed out, ensuring no hands slipped tabs into the liquor.

Hotch’s instruction was patched in through their earpieces.

“Blonde hair, black button up in the west corner of the bar by you, Y/L/N,” Reid heard and immediately his gaze shot toward her.

She was alerted and her sight honed in on the suspect. He was analyzing the body language of the woman before him who held similar semblance to Y/N. He waited patiently for her to let her guard down and look away from her drink and he was charming her into doing it.

The girl threw her head back in laughter and he saw his opportunity presented before him. Y/N watched his meticulous hands slip a small white tablet into the amber liquid of the girl’s glass. It dissolved into a discreet poison, lacing her glass with LSD.

Then he looked at Y/N and she felt his taunting stare desecrate her sanctity. She didn’t express it, though, her stoicism making him come to the conclusion she was a cop. His eyes widened and he grabbed the startled hands of the two women beside him, one seemingly more intoxicated than the other.

“Suspect is on the move with two friendlies, agent in pursuit.” Y/N’s voice was patched through and Reid watched her bolt after the unsub as she unholstered her gun.

“Wait,” he said through the earpiece, “Y/N, wait!”

She proceeded despite his protest and chased the unsub out of the building where he began loading the girls into his car. They obeyed, the trip settling in for at least one of them. He held a gun to the sober one’s back but Y/N in a flurry of indecision charged at the unsub.

“FBI! Stop or I’ll shoot!” She warned.

He drew his gun toward her but she shot his shoulder clean making his gun fly out of his hand. The man cried out, one hand falling on the gushing wound but he closed the door before the sober woman could get in, trapping her counterpart inside. He staggered toward the driver side and ducked into the car as she began to aim her gun at him again, threatening another offense.

Y/N reached out and pulled the girl from the skidding tires as he sped off before she could even process that the other girl was trapped inside. Once she did she began trying to shoot his tires out but to no avail. The girl was sobbing in her arms now, her tears bleeding through Y/N’s shirt that peaked out from above her Kevlar.

“You’re safe now, it’s okay,” she assured, “You’ve been drugged you need to be taken to a hospital,” Y/N said and almost as if on cue, Morgan could be heard behind her calling for a bus.

JJ came and took the sniffling victim from Y/N’s care allowing Reid to grab her shoulders and spin her around to face him. He inspected her facade for any damage but she brushed him off.

“I’m fine, Spence, but the other girl. We have to find her,” She grabbed his arm as he grabbed hers and they interlocked their forearms to reinforce some affection.

“You need to stop chasing after suspects with no backup. You’re being reckless and I’m taking you home, Y/N/N.” His voice was stern and she didn’t bother protesting from the way he looked at her.

Reid was fuming on the car ride home, the whites of his knuckles highlighted even in the darkness as he gripped the steering wheel. Y/N was curled against the passenger side door, wrapped in his sweater that she pulled taught around her frame.

“Can we please not fight when we get home?” He asked suddenly, voice breaking through the silence of the car, “I don’t want you to argue with me to go back into the field. This entire case has been so draining I just need you to understand seeing you do stuff like that— it kills me.”

“I know, Spence. Are you getting a headache?” She noticed him wince as someone passed with their high beams blazing. He groaned at the exposure, pinching the bridge of his nose and nodded.

She decided to make him some tea when they got home. Preparing the mug in the kitchen, she seeped the jasmine leaves and reached inside the cupboard for the mason jars she had filled with various dried herbs. Making the tea kept her mind occupied from the disrupting guilt she reserved for not saving the other girl. It was a guilt that clamped her arteries and made even the simplest tasks seem harrowing.

She put a pinch of dried rosemary and a drop or two of peppermint extract, stirring it in with some sugar. The sound of the metal spoon scraping the bottom of the glass brought her attention back to her task.

Her fingers coiled around the warm ceramic mug and she walked it carefully into the living room where Reid laid on the couch with a pillow pulled over his eyes. She took the hint and dimmed the lights but as she set down his tea he could already smell the additives.

Coupled with the headache, he’d never become genuinely upset over her affinity for the occult until now. He sat up with exasperation and picked it up, sniffing the steam to confirm his suspicions.

“Y/N, seriously?” He asked and looked up to her but his own voice made a piercing impact on his head.

“Seriously what?” She repeated defensively.

“You know what. I honestly can’t believe you. Especially after the case we just had,” he shook his head, laying back down.

“So you’re not even gonna drink it?” She asked, her face falling to an annoyed deadpan although he couldn’t see it.

“Jesus. No. I’m not. Can you just leave me alone for right now?” He asked finally.

A twinge of hurt stabbed her chest at the request and she took the mug as he pulled the pillow back over his face. In the darkness, he could see her pained expression etched into his vision. The shuffling in their bedroom intrigued him as well and he began to realize what he’d said. It blurred the agonizing migraine and caused him to sit up only moments later to apologize.

As he stared at the empty room he was startled by the sudden creek of their door from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he only caught the tail end of her jacket as she walked out. A raucous slam followed making him wince at the sound.

I really screwed up.

Reid pushed through the shroud of pain emanating from the fluorescence of the room, reaching forward for his own coat. A ripping agony followed and he doubled over, burying his face in his palms so he wasn’t staring at the light. A groan tore through the empty apartment as he tried to rub the headache away so he could chase after her.

Following Y/N proved to be farcical in his condition and he leaned against the couch in defeat, praying she’d just step outside for some fresh air.

Y/N stomped down the street with a quivering chin like a small child, sobs tearing through any muscle or fiber holding the sound in. People on the street avoided her state awkwardly, their gazes falling to the concrete when she’d pass. Humiliation was wrought in her mannerisms but she didn’t care. He told her to leave him alone over tea. She knew his migraines were the culprit but she couldn’t stay cooped up inside. There was a girl being tortured somewhere and she was sitting at home making tea with her boyfriend? There was something unfair to her about the situation.

She heard her phone trill a few times but ignored the noise, fleeing toward a local park down the street. She decidedly plopped down in the jagged blades of grass, kicking the shoes she threw on to the side so that she could feel the ground beneath her. She wanted to be as close to the ground as humanly possible to calm herself.

Every time she’d begin to soothe her cries her phone would ring bringing another wave of distraught. Through her tears, the world was a blur of velvet indigos distrusted suddenly by a dark shadow looming over her. She gasped in reaction but that’s all he gave her time to do before she felt his hand grab her head and pull her up by her jaw, his large gloved hands covering her entire face.

His fingers were sprawled apart so she could see herself being dragged away. Something bitter slipped onto her tongue and she tried to spit it out but the unsub locked her jaw shut to force the drug to work through her system. She tried to scream but with each muffled shrill he’d tighten his grip. Her teeth involuntarily grit against each other from the force and she screamed against her lips for help.

Y/N thrashed around as much as she could before she felt a pinprick in her right arm. Then the world shifted to a darker blue until her vision was gone completely.

Waking up in a wooded field sanctioned off from society’s wandering earshot, she felt the zip tie’s digging into her ankles and wrists. The skin had swelled around the bindings, causing excruciating pain whenever she’d move. She could feel her lip bleeding from being split by someone’s fists. Suddenly, a face fell before hers and began to cut the zip ties. Why was he cutting her loose?

“Good morning, sleepy head. You… you really messed my night up, you know that?” The man asked, his hand falling to her cheek.

Instead of skin she felt the smooth sensation of latex against her. The medicinal smell filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, pretending she was in the hospital with Spencer there instead of him.

“How…” she found it harder to speak than normal, “How did I do that?”

“Clara. I had Clara picked out. She was the perfect one but you were jealous of her. You wanted me all to yourself. Envy is a sin,” his words were venomous.

He couldn’t have been much older than her, sand colored locks that fell in soft tufts around his face. He looked like a renaissance painting with a wicked possession, his blue eyes complimented by the crimson of his bloodshot waterline. When he smirked at her his face shifted from an archangel to that of a demon, waiting to consume her whole.

Then, she noticed the shifting movement beside her. The other victim was tied up beside her and groaned as she awoke. In the darkness even, Y/N could see the girl’s pupils were dilated. She suddenly began screaming and thrashing around violently, kicking at the open air as if there were a second offender in front of her.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay, there’s nothing there!” Y/N tried but the girl couldn’t hear her, only the muffled calls of her hallucinations.

“Darcy, I need you to shut the fuck up sweetie,” the unsub grimaced.

She quieted down almost immediately but still shook in fear at whatever she was seeing before her.

Y/N turned back to the man in front of her, “Let her go. You don’t want her, you want me.”

“On the contrary, I want both of you,” he seemed coherent enough but was still clearly suffering a psychotic break. Psychopaths usually hid those breaks well.

“Why?” Y/N’s gaze suddenly shot straight through his, “You’re afraid if you touch us you’ll be infected with our sin?”

She made a move to spit in his face and he jumped back, yelling and wiping his face harshly with his sleeve. “You filthy bitch! My father will love you,” a smile etched across his face.

“Your father? Where’s your father?” She looked around for a partner but no one could be seen.

“The destroyer of souls of men. He bears the torch, the herald of dawn,” He spoke in his cryptic tongue but Y/N remembered Reid reciting certain portions of the Bible and poetry regarding Lucifer.

“Your father is the devil, right? Lucifer?” She asked.

He suddenly slapped her, the latex making the blow sting that much worse. Blood trickled from her teeth down her hanging lip but she sat back up despite the pain.

“My mom used to bathe me in bleach. She cleansed me of my sins. She’d scrub the chemicals into my back and say ‘Your daddy’s the devil.’” He seemed to find some inner turmoil with his logic but continued to quote his mother in a southern accent, “‘Your daddy is satan and you were born into this world as an abomination.’”

The M.O. and signature began to align with his claims, a severe case of germaphobia which rendered him unable to carry out the murders himself. He lets his victims do it for him.

As he spoke she watched his face begin to shift and swirl into a much eviler expression. His lips coiled into a smile, his eyes narrowing into black slits and his nose sunk into his skull. He began taking the form of a horrifying wraith, horns practically splintering out of his forehead. The trees began to sway and dance despite the lack of wind and the stars in the sky melted into glowing stalagmites that threatened her toward the ground.

Everything began to distort and she felt herself descend into horror. The acid was taking effect and as the girl’s blood curdling shrieks erupted beside her she began to put her head between her knees and sob. He rubbed her hair, sighing.

“Even the warriors must crumble. You’ll bow to my god,” he stood and suddenly tangled a fistful of hair into his hands, yanking her up along with Darcy.

Shrieking as the pain visualized before her in petrifying hallucinations she was positioned before the screaming girl. The unsub instructed Darcy to take the dagger from his hand and stab Y/N. She refused, shaking her head.

“It’s ok,” Y/N assured even as the trip progressed, “It’s ok. Just do what he says, I promise it’s ok.”

Darcy bawled as she hesitantly took the dagger. She walked toward Y/N and slowly drove the knife right beside her hip bone. She groaned, her hand falling forward onto Darcy’s shoulder. “Fuck,” she moaned as the squelching sound echoed through her head.

She keeled over the agony, wrapping her arms around herself. It was harrowing to have to pressurize a wound on oneself she found. Even the slightest touch against her cut felt like she was being stabbed repeatedly. She felt the cool tip of the Unsub’s gun push her up by her shoulder. That was when she realized only one of his hands were in use. The other one was still inflicted with the gunshot she fired. If she weren’t so high she would have used that to her advantage.

With the pain came even more disillusionment. She looked down at her palms and suddenly a bloodied dagger was grasped in them. “No, no, no,” she whispered.

Darcy pleaded for Y/N not to stab her and the agent had no intention of carrying out the Unsub’s fantasy.

“Kill me yourself you coward,” she spat, “I’m not hurting her.”

“I didn’t think you’d be persuaded that easily,” suddenly a gunshot cracked through the soundscape. It rang in Y/N’s ears causing her to buckle over in pain. Nothing seemed real. Her chest felt like it would tear open at any second, freeing her palpitating heart from it’s confides.

She watched the girl’s body fall limply before her and screamed out, racing to her side. The more she looked at the corpse the worse the gore progressed. Eventually, she was staring at a demon.

“FBI! Kye Alderwood, put your hands up!” Reid’s booming voice came from across the field. When she turned to look at him, though, he wasn’t himself.

He was taller, probably eight feet tall, and his body was stretched and elongated into a bony configuration. His face twisted and melted into a horrifying facade and he charged at her. His hands were giant daggers waiting to rip into her. She didn’t see the unsub aim his gun toward her but heard another shot fired. Suddenly, another demonic corpse laid beside her.

She couldn’t fathom grabbing the gun from the unsub’s vapid hands but there she was snatching the glock from the grass it was enveloped in. She didn’t comprehend that her boyfriend was in front of her. What she was seeing was a nightmare unfolding before her. The delusions were real. It was all real.

Reid stumbled back when he saw the gun pointed at him. He thought it was a mistake but when he saw her eyes he knew she wasn’t seeing him. Her paranoia was evident as she hyperventilated and her entire frame trembled, barely able to stand. Swaying back and forth and she wept he felt himself grow sick at the sight.

“Y/N! Put the gun down, honey, it’s just me,” he pleaded.

A sob broke through her voice, “Get away from me!”

“It’s Spencer, baby,” Now he was crying, terrified she’d pull the trigger. In any other circumstance this situation would have diffused by now but the LSD in her system turned her completely hysterical.

“Leave me alone!” The words being reflected back to him just wretched his heart further.

He wasn’t even pointing his own weapon at her anymore. He stopped pointing it at her the second he recognized her. Now it was pointed askew, the barrel facing the grass beside him. Neither of them could have aimed a gun at one another in the right mindset where she didn’t reside for the time being.

Seemingly, her psychosis seemed to penetrate any affection they shared. Beads of sweat formed on her skin as she held the gun steadily toward his frame. He knew if she shot him it’d be a kill shot. She had the best aim on the team.

“Please, baby, I love you so much. Just put the gun down I won’t hurt you,” Reid persisted through it as he heard reinforcements file in behind him. He spun around, waving Morgan, Hotch, and Emily away.

“Don’t come any closer! She’s drugged, she can’t help it and I swear to God if you shoot her I’ll resign!” He warned the other agents who heeded his warning despite the alarming display before them. They still kept their guns aimed at their teammate in allegiance to the judicial implications.

Y/N’s trip began to peak, the world around her becoming unrecognizable in the heap of apparitions that surrounded her. She screamed as misshapen, flesh colored bats charged down at her, flying toward her and swatted them away.

Reid watched her pushing and swatting away imaginary attackers and took the opportunity to run toward her. She screamed and thrashed around in his arms, clawing his skin and kicking at his legs behind her.

Everything looked like bloody flesh. Every blade of grass felt like rusty nails driven through her feet. She felt like she was coiled in the death grip of an anaconda.

“Stop! Stop! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” He tightened his grip on her and used one leg to pin both of hers against his other one. She was completely entangled in him again and the familiarity of his cologne instantly calmed her, he thought. As fell completely limp, relief deluged his psyche only to be matched with her sudden convulsions.

She slipped into a violent seizure, shaking and jarring her body as he lowered her onto the ground and to her side. Hotch and Emily fell beside him and he watched blood seep from her nose and mix with the medley of blood on her lips. He was whimpering as he tried to relax her muscles and barking orders to the others surrounding him. Eventually, her shaking form was taken by the EMTS who were already on the scene. He stood in the wake of the scene, bodies strewn about him wondering what she saw him as that terrified her so.

She was treated for an overdose in the hospital and as Reid entered her room he saw her small figure curled up on the hospital bed. He felt his heart shatter for the hundredth time that night as he floated toward her like a ghost. Placing his hand on her arm, she jumped suddenly startling him as well. He didn’t expect her to be awake so soon. if

“Jesus,” he breathed out, clutching his chest.

She flipped over to face him and couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Dork,” she said hoarsely. The way her inflection cracked made him frown in response.

“I don’t even,” he struggled to find the right words, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I tried to kill you, Spencer,” she began to recollect the happenstances, “I could have killed you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it’s going to be hard for us to get back to normal.”

“You had ten times a normal recreational dose of LSD in your system. That wasn’t you,” he assured.

She nodded softly and scooted back, patting the vacant place beside her on the hospital bed.

“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you,” as the sentence stumbled out of his mouth he couldn’t help but start crying again.

He was surprised he didn’t bawl himself into dehydration on the way to the hospital. She reached up and grabbed his wrist, leading him down to her where he crawled beside her.

Cupping his face in her hands she felt the sticky coagulation of tears that caked his face. Pulling him toward her, their lips locked and worked against one another before completely enveloping one another in devotion.

Pulling away she caught his glassy irises with hers, “You could never hurt me. Not really,” she replied.

“But I did. I told you to leave me alone and you left and had to go through…” he decided not to bring up the trauma.

She couldn’t remember the trip itself, only what she did during it. He didn’t want to bring it up and trigger an acid flashback.

“I left because I was hurt, yeah, but you didn’t hurt me. I felt so guilty about leaving Clara with the unsub that I thought making you that tea would help me feel better. We should have just stayed in the field, maybe we could have caught him before he killed anyone,” she sighed.

Reid nodded and kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead, then peppered the rest of her face with the same affection.

She ran her fingers over the skin on his arm and felt raised scar tissue in her wake. Looking down, bruises and scars were freckles across the pale vastness of his arm. She choked back, her hand falling to her lips.

“Did I do this to you?” She asked, her eyes glued to the cuts now.

He craved for her relief so he shook his head. “I don’t remember where I got them but it wasn’t because of you,” He lied. Realistically, she’d clawed and cut his arms until she began seizing. The cocktail of drugs in her system left him a stranger to her while she was high.

She nodded, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“There’s no way we could have known. I need you to not blame yourself for this because if you do I won’t be able to live with myself. This wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he snaked his arms around her waist carefully, avoiding her bandages.

“I know, I know,” she sighed and nestled into the crook of his neck, “I promise I won’t make you anymore occultist migraine tea.”

He pulled his chin from resting at the top of her head to look at her. He suddenly cupped her cheeks now and made sure she understood.

“Please, never stop making me migraine tea again,” he said before pulling her into a kiss again.

FULL SUMMARY:

Reid and Reader are dating when a case involving the occult dredges up turmoil between the happy couple. The case being difficult enough, the resemblance between the Reader and the victims leaves Reid uneasy. After Reader disrupts the Unsub’s routine she becomes a target. After Reid fights with the Reader because of a migraine, she is taken hostage by unsub and is drugged with LSD and nearly shoots Spencer while tripping.

#spencer reid angst #reid angst #cm fan fic #cms #cm fan fiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer fan fic #spencer reid #trigger warning #reid fanfic #reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #reid imagine #spencer reid imagine #nicolesalphabetangstfor8k

[the--highlanders]

Edge

On the edge of sleep, and on the edge of the world, Jamie wonders whether he should call the Doctor. 

on ao3.

Something was ticking on the other side of the room. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, over and over again. He had heard it when he had first arrived that afternoon, of course, and earlier that night, when he had been stumbling into bed. How wrong he had been, to expect to fall into bed and be asleep before his head even hit the pillow. As soon as his eyes had closed, though, all that exhaustion had fallen away from him, replaced by an endless, nameless restlessness. And now, in the softness of the dark, that single, repetitive noise was so much sharper. Back and forth, back and forth.

A distant piece of machinery, perhaps? Something concealed within the thin walls of this flimsy little base? He scanned over them, their white surfaces turned blue by the moonlight, wondering where the contraption could be, only to find it in plain view. A clock, ordinary and unassuming. He should have know, he scolded himself gently. If he put his ear against the watch the Doctor had given him, it made the same sort of noise, though much more gently. Not that he was in the habit of putting his ear against it.

But there was another sound, beneath the first, not quite in time with it. Tick-tick, tock-tock, tick-tick, tock-tock. Like two heartbeats. Rolling over onto his back, he squinted up at the rickety shelves above his head – and sure enough, peeking over the edge was a second clock. How odd, he thought. Surely someone would only need one clock, especially in a room like this, where all you would do was sleep and change clothes. Maybe one had grown slow and unreliable, and someone had brought in another one without replacing the broken one. A funny thing to do, but who was he to judge what people did out here? Maybe the mundanity of a clock had been all that stood between the room’s previous occupant and the madness that could come from the screeching, whining drone of the wilds outside.

Flopping back down against the pillows with a huff, he drew the blankets up to his chin. He would pay for this tomorrow, he knew. But his sleeplessness was not for lack of trying. In fact, he was starting to wonder whether her had been trying too hard. Sometimes sleep needed to be crept up on, ignored until it looked away. Ambushed like an animal.

He closed his eyes again.

There was still a temptation to open them, though he did not know what his body imagined it might see. He knew perfectly well that there was nothing but white walls and empty shelves and a vaguely-cluttered bedside table, and two clocks. It might have been someone’s idea of a decoration, too, he thought. Just adding another clock. Out here, at the very edge of a planetary survey, he supposed they would not have been able to find much else.

Just as the sound was beginning to settle into his mind and become soothing – tick-tick, tock-tock, tick-tick, tock-tock, strangely familiar, like a warm embrace – one of the clocks paused to chime out a cheerful little tune. At the very end, it whistled once – twice – three times. Three in the morning, so long as the thing still kept time. Well, he thought, at least he was not up late anymore, only up early.

The clock that had chimed started again, a little more offset from its companion this time. Tick. Tick. Tock. Tock. Seconds dribbled on by, none of them helping him to get any rest.

He knew perfectly well that there was one way of putting himself to sleep. But it was far too late for that. Or early, he corrected himself. Any reasonable person would be asleep at this hour.

And yet – the Doctor was hardly a reasonable person, was he?

Even he had to be asleep by now, Jamie told himself. For all his talk about never sleeping, the Doctor did indeed sleep – only for a few short hours at a time, and only lightly, so he gave the appearance of not sleeping at all. He claimed that it was natural, though Jamie could not help but wonder if he did it on purpose, just to appear more mysterious to his human friends. But three in the morning was pushing his luck, even by the Doctor’s standards.

Huffing again, he nestled his head back against the pillow. Yes, his fingers were twitching with the urge to pick up the communicator on his bedside table, to thumb clumsily through its endless menus until he could fumble his way into calling the Doctor. But that was selfish – not to mention unnecessary. He could sleep perfectly well without hearing the Doctor’s voice. There was no need to bother him.

He closed his eyes for the millionth time, squeezing them shut. This time he would keep them closed, he told himself sternly. This time his thoughts would grow slower and duller until he slipped off into sleep without noticing, and woke up to the dusky grey light of the morning.

Just as consciousness was starting to float away from him, the communicator buzzed.

The sound made him spring up, whacking his head against the wall behind him with a crunch of slightly-less-than-solid plaster and wood against bone. Muttering curses and complaints under his breath, he scrabbled around for the accursed thing, his face scrunched up against the noise. Whatever commander was calling, sitting high and mighty in their tower back home, safe and far away from the dangers of the wilds – they could wait until morning.

His finger was hovering over the bright red button that would end the call when his eyes finally cleared enough for him to see the name stamped across the screen. The Doctor.

Slowly, tremblingly, he moved his finger over to the blue button instead. Almost as soon as he had pressed it down, the room was filled with crackling static, and he scrambled to lower the little box’s volume. He found the right tab on the side of the thing only a moment before the Doctor’s voice ran out, tinny and distant. “Jamie? Are you there?”

“A – aye.” He swallowed, willing his voice not to crack again, but something about hearing the Doctor had set a lump in his throat. “Aye, I’m here.”

“Jamie!” There was a rustling sound, like the Doctor was shuffling something around beside his communicator. “I simply had to call you -”

Something wheezed above Jamie’s head, and he jerked his neck back, searching for the source of the noise. It was the other clock, he realised, finally humming out three o’clock. The thing vibrated along with the noise, shaking its way slowly but steadily towards the lip of the shelf, and he shuffled further down the bed, pulling his head back so it would not hit him in the face if it toppled off the edge. But it stopped just short of falling, quietening for a second before carrying on its endless ticking. It was back in time with its fellow, now, the heartbeat restored. Tick-tick, tock-tock. Tick-tick, tock-tock.

“What was that?” came the muffled sound of the Doctor’s voice.

Crawling back up towards the communicator, Jamie flopped his chest back onto the mattress. “Nothin’,” he said with a grin. “Just a clock. Why did ye have tae call me?”

“Oh, I, ah -” For a moment, he wondered if the Doctor had forgotten entirely. “I simply had to,” he repeated. “I’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“Connected the solar extractor to the communications unit. Well, on a scale model, anyway, but – it ought to work at full scale.” He paused. “I’m sure it shall. Well, the point is that you should be receiving more power soon, so long as the cables aren’t interrupted.”

He carried on talking, babbling away about accelerated storage and low-loss transmission and whether there was any way he could send power without having to rely on the cables, but in truth Jamie was hardly listening to him. He would not understand it anyway, he reasoned – though he understood what it meant well enough, and at any other time he would have been beaming with the knowledge that the lives of everyone on the survey were about to get easier. But it was too late at night for him to manage more than a small smile. The excitement in the Doctor’s voice was far warmer in his chest. Flopping down onto his back, he lay the communicator on the bed beside him. He could almost imagine that the Doctor was right there. Well – if he ignored the faintness of his voice, and the lack of weight or the Doctor’s strange chill beside him.

And then he was laughing, soft and breathless, sending little huffs of vapour up into the air. How long had he been waiting to hear the Doctor’s voice again? Only a day or so, but it felt like months.

“So you see, if I add a second transformer -” The Doctor paused. “Jamie?”

Another burst of laughter bubbled out of Jamie’s chest. “Aye?”

“Are you quite alright?”

What must he sound like, on the other end of the call? “Aye,” he said, rolling over onto his side to curl around the communicator. The last echoes of his laughter died away at that, pressed down by the weight of his body, but his smile remained, wide and maybe a little silly. “Aye, I’m fine.”

“You’re not sick, are you?”

“Och, no, nothin’ like that.” Reaching over the communicator, Jamie rested his hand on the other side of it, like he was cradling it away from something. Idly, his fingers began to trace swirls against the sheets. “I was laughin’.”

“Laughing?”

“Mmhm.”

“Why?”

His hand lifted away from the bed, flicking outwards in half a shrug. But the Doctor could not see him, he remembered, and he let it fall back down again. “Dunno,” he said at last. “Just – why’d ye call me, I ‘spose.”

“Well, I’ve just got the thing working, Jamie. I had to tell someone.”

“Then tell the – the captains of the survey,” Jamie mumbled, turning his face over so his mouth was half-muffled by his pillow. They were tiresome, those three. If the Doctor wanted to pass his message onto them – well, he was not looking forward to it, to put it kindly. “It can wait ‘til mornin’.”

“Yes, it can,” the Doctor said. There was something patient in his voice, like he was waiting for some penny to drop, some realisation to spring on Jamie. It was probably completely obvious, Jamie thought, even to him. But the sound of the Doctor’s voice had eased the first fragments of tiredness into his head, and his brain was beginning to feel sluggish. “And I’m sure they’ll be very pleased to hear from me tomorrow morning.”

Jamie blinked. “You’re gonnae tell them yourself?”

“Yes, of course.” The Doctor’s voice was still infuriatingly blank.

“Then why are ye tellin’ me?”

“I told you. I’ve only just managed to make it work.”

He could just imagine the Doctor in the wee lab he had been given, realising that he had succeeded, bouncing around the cramped, cluttered space like gravity had been turned off. Spinning, twirling, jumping, a world away from the stiff hunch of his shoulders that would have frozen him in place as he worked. And he would be chattering away, too, telling everyone exactly what he had done, and how brilliant he was.

Ah. Penny dropped.

“Ye just wanted tae tell someone it had worked,” he said.

“Exactly!” There was a beaming smile on the Doctor’s face, there had to be.

“’Cause ye like showin’ off.”

“Quite – no! No, not at all. I, I – simply wanted to share it.”

“An’ it’s in the middle of the night, so ye had nobody with ye tae tell.” He grinned. “How many people did ye call before I picked up?”

“Ah -” Was that something bashful in the Doctor’s voice now? “Ah. You’re the only person I called.”

“Oh.” Jamie frowned. “But I dinnae understand all your technical stuff.”

“We-ell...” There was a touch of embarrassment, Jamie was sure of it. “I, ah, I don’t mind. I wanted to tell you.”

“How did ye know I’d be awake?”

“I, ah, I didn’t. But – I hoped.”

Something warm was spreading through Jamie’s chest, something that could not be dimmed by his draughty bunk room or leached away by the thin fabricated blanket drawn up over him. The Doctor had called him, before anyone else on the planet. “I’m glad,” he said, a little haltingly. “That ye called me, I mean.”

“Well -” From the sounds of it, the Doctor did not quite know what to say either. “Well, I’m very pleased to hear that, Jamie.” Another pause, then - “I didn’t want you, did I?”

“No.”

“Then you ought to get some sleep.” More rustling. “I’ll, ah, I’ll see you in a few weeks, hm?”

“Wait!” The word came out louder than Jamie had intended, and he winced, glancing up like he was expecting to see the occupants of the bunk rooms around his sticking their heads through the door to glare at him. “I’m no’ that tired, really.”

“Really.” It was not a question.

“Really. So maybe ye could -” His heart was pounding, and he swallowed, trying to force it back to a normal speed, as if the Doctor could hear the beat of it through the communicator. “Maybe ye could stay a while? Tell me more about what you’ve been doin’, or somethin’.”

“Oh – oh – oh, very well.” Jamie grinned to himself. The Doctor could never resist a chance to talk about how clever he was, or what a good job he had done. “So you see, I attached a second transformer – ah, I couldn’t convert directly between the two, so I had to introduce a third phase in between...”

He was almost tempted to do as he had said, to stay up and listen to the Doctor talk. Here was something about the Doctor’s enthusiasm that was infectious, even if he had no idea what half the words that came out of his mouth meant, let alone how the Doctor could string them together. And perhaps he might learn something – or better yet, remember something that the Doctor had told him before, and jump in to connect the dots, and the Doctor would be so proud. It was certainly an attractive thought. And there was something peaceful about this, too, the pair of them sitting in the dark, talking softly even though they were far away from each other. Like they were living in their own secret world that nobody else knew about.

But his eyelids were already growing heavy, and he knew he would regret it in the morning, if he decided to stay up. The sensible thing to do would be to let himself rest. And there was a temptation in that, too, the idea of curling up and letting the Doctor’s voice relax him, his already-tenuous grasp on the words growing weaker and weaker. Yes, he thought. That was just what he needed. Besides – if he could not see anything, then it would be easier to pretend that the Doctor really was beside him, chattering away in person rather than through a tinny little box.

He had almost forgotten about the clocks, the sound of them dulling down beneath the weight of the Doctor’s voice. But they were sharpening again now, as his eyes drifted closed. Tick-tick, tock-tock. Tick-tick, tock-tock. Like the Doctor’s double heartbeat, warm and rhythmic beside him.

Closing his eyes, he curled around the communicator, drawing it closer to himself until his cheek was pressed against the gold metal of its casing. “Goodnight,” he mumbled into the thing.

The Doctor did not reply, but simply kept on rambling.

#second doctor #fanfic archive #my writing

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #15: Thunderous

thunderous – relating to or giving warning of thunder, very loud, powerful, or intense

It had been something of an eventful few days for the Warriors of Light. A cure for tempering, found. A civil war within Limsa Lominsa, averted. The first step towards peace with a beast tribe, taken. Had it not been for the strange towers appearing all across the star, not to mention Fandaniel introducing them all to his new version of Bahamut, it might have actually been called a good few days.

It was all of these events that had brought them to Gridania on this day. Kan-E-Senna and her subordinates within the Twin Adder needed to be briefed on all that had occurred, so they could begin making plans for how best to use their soon-to-be arriving flock of porxies. Privately, Rheika thought it would be hilarious to just let them all arrive and watch the chaos unfold as the Elder Seedseer and the Hearers of Stillglade Fane attempted to figure out just why there was a sudden mass of flying pigs in their city, but alas, getting their beastmen neighbors untempered and beginning overtures of peace was too important.

They’d spent the past few bells getting her up to speed on all that had transpired, explaining how the porxies actually functioned, how to route any communications that needed to be passed to the Scions concerning the towers, describing the appearance and capabilities of this “Lunar Bahamut”, and the like. Many had offered to make the report in their stead, but for now there was little for the Warriors of Light to actually do at the moment, and since they’d been present firsthand, they felt themselves the logical choice to inform the remaining Alliance leader who’d not yet been apprised of recent events.

As they left the Lotus Stand, emerging from the path that led to the Seedseer’s private altar into Gridania proper, Rheika gave a brief nod to both the Serpent Officer and the Conjurer stationed there, and briefly looked around. As usual, there were plenty of blue-robed conjurers going about the business of dealing with the many bureaucratic matters Stillglade Fane was responsible for. Petitioners asking for blessings for their harvest, permission to sell new wares within the city, a few asking for healing. Rheika fought to keep a sneer from her face. Gridania was for all intents and purposes a theocracy, nothing allowed to be done without the blessings of the Elementals.

She didn’t particularly trust the Elementals. She might have been born here, but her community of Keepers of the Moon generally paid them no mind. They’d lived there for generations without so much as a thank you to the elementals outside of simply taking care of the place they lived in, not over hunting or despoiling the land, and no nature spirits or treants had ever so much as bothered them. Any talk she’d ever heard of the Elementals had long since come to resemble talk of Primals rather than some benevolent forest Gods that allowed people to dwell within their boughs.

Learning how Stillglade Fane actually functioned had made it far worse. The “Hearers”, the blue robed conjurers that made up the staff of Stillglade Fane, were barely able to actually  hear the voices of the Elementals. Mastery of that particular skill was unique only to the small population of horned humanoids known as the Padjals. Their small numbers meant they were spread out through the Shroud dealing with major problems, with the only two permanently in Gridania being E-Sumi-Yan (who was permanently needed within the Conjurer’s Guild as head teacher) and the Elder Seedseer herself. Both were endlessly busy, far too much so to handle all of the requests from the citizens that needed to be answered. Thus the Hearers had developed a series of rites and rituals to attempt to divine the Elementals’ will, which they utilized in answering the day-to-day petitions brought to their doors.

Rheika had never known what exactly these rituals consisted of, but Dahkar had attended a small class on them as part of his training as a Conjurer. As an adventurer, he was not expected to serve as an official part of the Fane, but the Hearers made the class open to all students of the guild, in case they perhaps wished to utilize them in their travels through the Shroud. He’d told her what he’d learned in the quick lesson, most of the rituals consisted of what was essentially the casting of lots using leaves and sticks, and using their best interpretation the patterns that emerged. It had all seemed utterly foolish to her, and she’d seen more than one instance of a Hearer going rogue and forcing his own interpretations of the Elementals’ will onto others, only to be revealed as incorrect later on.

Rheika hated this place. She wanted to get out of here and head back home to the Rising Stones as quickly as she could. Her fellow Warriors of Light were following behind her, chatting amicably about dinner plans. They had a few other matters to discuss, but outside the guild was a poor place to do it, the Hearers did not care for loitering without official business. She traipsed forward, making for the aetheryte shard placed not far from the Guild’s entrance, already envisioning her destination, the city’s main aetheryte plaza, in her mind’s eye. She’d almost reached the shard when a series of voices reached her sensitive ears.

“-please, you must do something!”

“The girl’s only seen twelve summers!” “I’m sorry, but such is the will of the forest.” “But that’s not right!”

Rheika stopped, her hand inches away from attuning range. The words played over in her head. “Twelve summers”. “Will of the forest”. “Not right!”. She turned to look in the direction they’d come from. An elezen, a hyur, and a lalafell, all similarly garbed with upset expressions on their faces were speaking with a Hearer. The Hearer, a hyur man, was making a series of exaggerated gestures as if talking to children.  Rheika wasn’t entirely certain what to make of the petitioners, perhaps a blended family or workers at an orphanage, but it was clear that a girl in their care was needing help, and their cries were falling on deaf ears.

Few things enraged the Warriors of Light more than the inflicting of suffering on children.

She turned to the others, who had noticed her change, and looked to her with anticipatory expressions on their faces. She held up her palm, then tilted her fingers away from herself twice, a clear back up and wait signal. The others immediately backed off and stood away, near the treeline. She nodded, and turned to walk up behind the Hearer. She tried to keep the anger bubbling within her down as she spoke, only mostly successfully. “Excuse me, but what is going on here?”

The hearer didn’t even turn around, simply sighed and waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Move along, outsider, if you’ve business with Stillglade Fane, you must wait, not interrupt-”

“Listen up, you moss-addled twat! First of all, I was BORN in this forest. Second of all, turn your ass around and LOOK at who you are talking to!” Rheika thundered.

The hearer turned “How dare you? If you really-”. His words cut off with a gasp. “Y-you’re Rheika Aliapoh. One of th-the Warriors of Light!”

“Good boy.” she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms and giving him a disapproving look. “Unfortunately for you, you used your turn to piss me off. So now, I’m talking to them.” She looked over to the trio of petitioners, her face more sympathetic. “Hi, I’m Rheika. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

The hyur woman wiped away tears falling down her face. “H-hi. My name is Lina….my daughter Dani is sick. We think it’s Greenrot. She’s holding strong now, but it’s getting worse. We came to the Conjurer’s guild for healing but…they’re saying it’s the Elementals’ will that she die!”, Lina said as she burst into tears. The Elezen male put his hands on her shoulders and looked at Rheika. “We’ve been friends with Lina for years, and we all moved in together when times got tough for us all. Mani’s like a niece to us. Please, can you….” he trailed off.

Rheika nodded to him and turned back to the hearer, absolute fury in her face. “And you’re just going to let that girl die?”

“I-it’s not like I WANT to, but-”

“It’s a fairly simple fix, hearer. One quick Esuna cast. Hell, I’ve only had rudimentary conjury training and I know it. Surely a big bad hearer like yourself ought to be familiar with it” she said, venom dripping from her voice. “Less than a few minutes of your time, and that girl gets to live. And you’re gonna sit there and let her suffer and probably die. A CHILD.”

His face contorted into an ugly sneer. “Look, I wouldn’t expect a keeper of the moon like you to understand, given how much your kind seems inclined to just take whatever they want from the forest without-”

Rheika reached back towards the gunblade she carried strapped to her back, stopping just short of actually grabbing the hilt. “You keep talking. Give me a reason.”

“You come here to this place and try to tell ME, who has trained to hear the Elemental’s voice for years, how to do my job? You can’t POSSIBLY understand-”

“And what about me, Hearer?” intoned Dahkar’s steely voice as he stepped towards them, coming from behind Rheika. “Surely you’re not such a tremendous idiot as to believe I cannot understand, correct?”

The Hearer spun to regard him, anger on his face immediately vanishing as he blanched. Dahkar was over seven fulms of very angry looking Au Ra, clad in the pristine white robes that the Hearer had only ever witnessed the Padjals wear. “Y….you’re…you’re the one the Padjals trained in the White? But…you’re not even of the forest!”

“Wrong answer. The correct response is ‘No, Dahkar of the White, Warrior of Light, I know you understand. Also I’m going to apologize to Rheika and throw myself at her mercy before going to heal the diseased child’. Do you see the difference?”

“I….I will not be spoken to this way!” the man said, stamping his feet. “I am a Hearer, charged with listening to the wills of the Elementals and ensuring the people of Gridania live according to their will, lest we awaken the Greenwrath! Who are you, a man clearly of the Far East, to question how-”

“Gonna stop you right there.” Dahkar growled. “First of all, you really should stop making judgements about where someone is from based on what they look like. I might have been born in the Far East, that’s true, but I’ve lived in the Shroud since I was a babe, just like Rheika here.”

Rheika smiled innocently.

“Secondly, I’ve been through Conjurer training, clearly. I’ve seen how the Hearers work. The only people who can directly hear the Elementals, much less communicate with them, have horns on their head, and I don’t mean this kind” he continued, tapping the large black-scaled horn on his own head. “You and I both know a lot of being a Hearer is using your own good judgement and hoping the rituals you’ve devised over the years give you the correct result. Lot of room for error there.”

The Hearer pondered that for a moment. “Well, yes, I suppose there are instances of Hearers being wrong. I do recall that kerfuffle with the animal exhibits outside the Leatherworker’s Guild…” He looked up in realization, then began delivering with the gusto of a professional orator.  “Ah, but even you must admit that if the people lose faith that the Hearer’s word is that of the Elementals, then chaos shall reign in the city! Every pronouncement we make will be endlessly questioned, or even ignored! The peaceful symbiosis we have achieved will be undone, and the Greenwrath will be upon us all! Yes, surely even you must agree to that?!”

Dahkar’s laughter drew the attention of other nearby Conjurers, who were suddenly very interested why their fellow was loudly arguing with a Warrior of Light and a White Mage, no less. “Or you could simply exercise better judgement and not leave the healing of the citizenry that are supposed to be in your care to blind chance, perhaps? Or are you going to seriously tell me you think the Elementals have an opinion on the health of a single member of the community?”

Rheika idly watched them continue to go back-and-forth with their arguments. In truth, she was hardly interested in the debate. She was more interested in keeping the count she’d quietly started running in her head ever since drawing the Hearer’s attention to herself.

Now, she reckoned, that count had gone on long enough. The Hearer was now going on a tangent about equilibrium in nature when she interrupted him. “Thanks for hopping in there, Dahk. I was afraid I was losing his attention”

Dahkar turned to her and smiled, crossing his arms. “Reckon we gave them enough time to get it done?”

Rheika turned towards the path that led from Stillglade Fane to the rest of Gridania. “Well, I can’t see any sign of them, so I’d say it’s definitely gotta be close enough.”

The Hearer sputtered. “What…what exactly are you two talking about?”

Rheika smiled ever so sweetly at him. “Aren’t you forgetting about someone, Hearer? Or rather, ‘someones’?”

The Hearer, shocked, spun around. The three petitioners were no longer there, and as he frantically looked around the area, he saw no sign of them. “What? Where…where did they go?”

Dahkar laughed again. “Well, if we timed this right, our companions have hopefully gotten them back to their dwelling by now and are using their own healing skills to cure the little girl! They might not know anything about Conjury, but they’re pretty good in their own right. Fearless is an expert in Sharlayan Astrology, and Franks has revived the teachings of the Scholars of ancient Nym!”

The Hearer was dumbfounded. He flailed about, as if he felt like he should do something, but had no idea what. “But…the Elementals…what if this angers them? What if…”

Rheika sighed through his abbreviated rant and cut in “If the Elementals get THAT upset over this, then I’m sure the Seedseer and the other padjals can calm them down, like they have to do entirely too often anyway. Given how little they seem to care about the million other things affecting the Shroud, I doubt they’ll even notice.”

She turned to regard the other assembled Hearers and other Conjurers. “But if they do? And Kan-E-Senna can’t get through to them?” She smiled. “Well, my friends, luckily for you, we’re the Warriors of Light. We have a fair amount of experience dealing with powerful beings made of aether that care little for the lives of the mortals around them.”

She crossed her arms and smiled happily. “So I wouldn’t worry. We’ll be here to protect the people of Gridania and the rest of the Shroud if it comes to that!”

She turned and walked out of the Fane. Dahkar gave a confident smile (which most non-Au Ra would agree looked more sinister than simply confident) and nodded to the assembled Hearers before turning and following her out.

The Hearers would spend several days debating their words and whether or not they should bring them before the Seedseer. In the end, they simply opted to wait and see what would come.

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Final Fantasy XIV #Rheika Aliapoh #Dahkar Darkspear #oldmanfranks #Fearless Willow #I'm not a fan of the Hearers can you tell

[boat-dock]

“Knowing You is for the Better”  chapter 17

School has been really stressful lately but I’m trying to keep updating :))

Not for the first time that Hope wondered if it was strange that she almost never turned on a full moon, she’s done it twice, maybe three times in the three years since she triggered her curse. It wasn’t something she did on purpose, at least she didn’t think that she did. Tonight as she ran under a sliver of a crescent moon, she tried to remember what it felt to run with her pack in the bayou under the full moon, but she found that she barely could. One of the amazing things about her pack was that they could control when they turned, so now most full moons they relaxed and enjoyed their freedom. 

She started her run tonight with a goal in mind, but she was planning on running for a while to take the edge off of her nerves, however that was not what was happening. Her instincts were heightened in her wolf form, but tonight was different, there was a strange magic in the air that was overwhelming her senses. It was pulling her, guiding her through the forest. In the back of her mind she figured that this could be the work of her grandmother Esther, but as a wolf the consequences of that seemed very far away. She’d lost track of how long she had been running or where exactly she was, the ground was solid under her feet as she burst through the tree line and saw a towering mansion in the distance. 

It was a deep cream color that resembled marble, with more windows and arches than Hope could possible count. The years had taken a toll however, vines and cracks crawled up the walls, it looked destitute and abandoned compared to the lively Salvatore house that Hope was used to. She sucked in a deep breath and shifted back, so she was standing completely naked staring at her old family home. 

It was strange to think of the entirety of her father’s side of the family living here together, in fact it was nearly impossible to imagine them living anywhere together for a lengthy period of time without completely burning the place down. She’d known about this house for a while now but had never been, there was never a reason. The family that lived here weren’t the same people that she knew now, of the parts of her past she chose to dwell on this was not one of them. 

The wind whipped around her and she regretted her lack of clothes, not that she was cold, due to her tribrid nature it was very difficult for her to feel the cold, but she was very exposed. She doubted there would be anyone here, most people had forgotten about this old house and even if they remembered it they most definitely avoided it. It was quiet and still as she padded across the grass toward the main door, or at least what she assumed was the main door. 

It creaked open slowly with a push and for a second Hope feared that she wouldn’t be able to cross the threshold because of her vampire nature. It was a ridiculous thought, if the house was in the name of anyone in her family that was a vampire it meant that she could cross without permission and if it wasn’t that meant it was the property of the city and she could enter then as well. 

The first thing she notices is the very thick musty scent of the house, the next is the extreme size, her home in New Orleans was a large house but this mansion was triple its size. There was a grand staircase and a door that led to what Hope could only assume was a ballroom, pushed into a corner was a large table covered with a large sheet. Seizing the opportunity, Hope pulled the sheet away, grinning at the dramatics of it as it fluttered and fell to the ground, then she pulled it around her shoulders so it covered her body from the nonexistent eyes.

Now that she was actually in the house she had no idea what she needed to be looking for, it was strange walking around this large empty house that held her history, she should probably be feeling something right now, but instead she felt numb. That pulling sensation from earlier was still there, in fact it was stronger now than it was before.

Against her better judgement she decided to let it lead her up the stairs, the dusty white sheet dragging behind her like a cloak. She tried to soak in everything around her, some of the paintings had been left behind and were still hanging on the walls. Her dad had put those there, most likely, he was the only member of her family before her that cared about art and he had had this house built so he most likely picked what art that would go on the wall. 

She continued walking down the upstairs hallways, wandering aimlessly and peering into empty rooms until she came upon a room that was overflowing with stuff. 

The walls were lined with books of every size shape and color, some were elegant and extravagant while others were falling apart at the seams, there was even a small section of scrolls tucked away into a top corner hiding in the shadows. Boxes filled with god knows what littered the room, so many that as she tried to make her way around them her sheet kept getting caught on the corners. This room felt right, she’s not sure why, there was no reason that she should believe that whatever answers she was looking for would be in this room, but it really felt like this was where she needed to be. 

A sudden movement broke the stillness that had surrounded her as a small bird took off from a shadow and flew straight out the door she just entered. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she jumped to the side. She pulled the sheet closer around her as she recognized the bird that just nearly gave her a heart attack, it was a Starling. 

Her grandmother’s chosen bird and known spies. 

Esther was here, Hope didn’t know where and she didn’t know how but she knew she was here. Esther was the strange force pulling her here, even though it had been a part of her plan to come here all along, her grandmother wanted her here for some reason. Whatever plans Hope had she was sure that Esther had some of her own. How was she going to contact her was her main issue, because no matter the presence she had here she was still dead. 

Ghosts were not a new concept to Hope but that didn’t mean that she enjoyed them. She’d encountered many ghosts throughout her young life and they were almost always hostile to her, but now she was capable of taking care of herself. If her grandmother was looking for a fight she would find one, but something about this didn’t feel threatening to her. That’s not to say that she was comfortable, she definitely was not. She was wearing next to nothing in an old abandoned mansion where she was probably going to meet and communicate with the ghost of her dead grandmother, uneasy didn’t quite cover what she was feeling. 

Hope sucked in the musty air through her nose trying to calm her nerves. She started looking through the boxes, examining the books and trinkets that filled the room. As she was doing so, however, she noticed a strange breeze and smell that began to fill the room. The wind caused goosebumps to erupt across her skin as she tried to place the familiar smell. 

It was earthy with a sharpness to it… almost burnt? That was it, burnt. Incense. But there was no incense burning in the room, or anywhere else in the house that she had been. The thick smell started to overwhelm her, her senses were muddled and Hope suddenly found it very hard to focus or to keep her eyes open. The book she was holding slipped and hit the ground with a bang. 

There was a heaviness to her body that was pulling her slowly to the ground. In the back of her mind she realized that something was wrong, this shouldn’t be happening. But before she could do anything about it her grip went slack on the sheet and she fell to the ground.  

This was not the kind of sleep that Hope was accustomed to. She felt like she was floating and falling in the darkness all at the same time. She waited for the nightmare she had become so used to over the last few months to take hold but strangely it never did. Instead when she finally pried her eyes open it was like she was completely awake but in a different place. Things were sharp and clear unlike every other dream Hope had.

 It was the same forest. Tall dark trees, the onslaught of birds, and the powerful bonfire. But for the first time Hope was in control of the dream. She waited for the birds to swarm like they normally do and for Esther to appear, but they never did. Instead she just seemed to pop into existence by the fire across the clearing from her. Hope took a moment just to watch her, examine her, it was strange that Hope could see herself in this woman that had had a very little part of her life. Esther was the only other member of her family that had the same red hair as Hope, the same blue eyes that she recognized as her father’s and her own. It was the only proof she had that this woman was related to her at all, considering the way her grandmother had treated her as a child. 

She forced her feet to bring her closer. The heat of the fire was pushing her away but she fought against it. “Hello child,” Esther said and the sound of her voice startled Hope. Throughout this entire thing she had never actually heard her grandmother speak, the smoothness of her unplaceable accent was shocking. 

“Hello,” Hope countered, “ You’ve been wanting to speak to me,” with what little plan she had Hope didn’t actually know how to speak to this woman. Yes she was her granddaughter, but they did not know each other and Hope was not here to rekindle a familial relationship. 

“Yes, but you have not been making it easy for me.” 

Hope raised an eyebrow,” I wasn’t aware that I was doing anything,”  everything blurred for a moment before sharpening again. It became clear to Hope that her metabolism was too fast for whatever Esther had drugged her with to hold her under for much longer. Words piled up, ready to spill from her lips but she restrained herself and managed to keep her composure. 

“When you realized that I was trying to contact you I assumed you would have tried harder to talk to me,” Hope couldn’t get a good read on her grandmother. She was used to the strange way her family interacted and behaved but there was something different about Esther. 

Hope absentmindedly racked her fingers through her hair,” What do you want from me?” she asked purposefully not reacting to the jab. Maybe if she could gage what Esther wanted from her she could figure out how to use it to her advantage. 

Esther turned so she was fully faceing her now. Power radiated from her, but Hope radiated it right back. “ I imagine it is the same reason you came here tonight Hope,” she gave a pointed look that put her on edge and paused just long enough for Hope’s skin to crawl,” The gemini twins.” 

The dreamscape swirled dangerously and Hope didn’t know if it was caused by her or Esther but she had to think it was her. Whatever control she’d held onto was dissipating fast and was accelerated by the mention of her girlfriend. What did Esther know about Josie? What could she want with Josie? Or Lizzie for that matter? Hope started to fight against her body to stay asleep.

“Relax child I only wish to help,” Esther said, noticing their fraying reality. 

“Why would you want to help them,” Hope shot back. Every paranoid bone in her body was singing and screaming simultaneously. She fought against the noise. 

“I want to help them because they are important to you,” she said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. But it didn’t make any sense to Hope, Esther never cared for her, she had been a pawn to be given away or killed whenever necessary.  Nothing in her past could allow her to believe that her grandmother could be doing something simply for Hope’s sake. 

“You expect me to believe that you went through all the work to get here and contact me and you want nothing in return,” sarcasm dripped from her words, it was very clear that she was not buying this,” and how are you even here anyway?” 

Esther did a much better job of controlling her emotions than Hope did, she answered all of the questions that were being thrown at her with patience and ease. “You’ve lived here a long time Hope,” She started,” and I’ve been here the entire time watching you grow up.” A tingle ran up her spine at the thought of Esther watching her her entire life. It was creepy but she decided to see where she was going with this, “ watching you grow has made me happy, happier than I’ve been in a long time, it’s given me hope that our family could be something more than monsters again.” 

That’s all they were to Esther, monsters of her own creation, the creatures that went bump in the night. She fixated on that word. It had been following her around her entire life, making it stick out to her in most situations. 

Monster. Abomination. Miracle. 

She forced all these thoughts to the back of her mind  where they normally lived,” What does that have to do with the twins?” she ground out, clenching her teeth so tight that it pained her. The fire flickered out of existence next to them, leaving the dreamscape darkened and melting away around her. 

“Josie makes you happy.” she stated. Hope didn’t like hearing her girlfriend's name on Esther’s lips. She’d come here with the intention of getting Esther to help her with the twins’ situation but she hated that she was one step ahead of her even now. “Sense she makes you happy I want to help you,” until then Hope had kept her face neutral but she squinted at that comment, “because believe me when I say that without my help there will be no saving them.” 

In that moment Hope would have given anything to stay asleep and continue this conversation. She would give anything to save Josie, and if Esther believed that she could do that then Hope sure as hell wanted to listen to her. Hope might not trust her grandmother but there was no doubt that she was a powerful and competent witch with over a thousand years of experience on her, she knew what she was talking about when it came to magic. 

The dream dropped away almost as suddenly as it had appeared and Hope found herself once again sitting on the floor of the library in the mansion. She stood and pulled the sheet back around her. On the floor next to her was a large leather bound book with browning pages. It hadn’t been there before she fell asleep, could it have fallen from a shelf? Flipping the cover open, she recognized it as a grimoire, one of her grandmother’s grimoires. The breeze that she had become so familiar with came back and leafed through the pages like it had a mind of its own. When it settled the pages landed on a spell that Hope was unfamiliar with. It was strange and ancient, but she had no doubt that Esther wanted her to find it. She was exhausted that night to examine the spell then, so she ripped the pages out to be brought back to the school with her.  

She was unsure of how much time had passed but her body ached in a way she was unfamiliar with as she dragged herself back to the school. The moon was considerably lower than when she left on her run earlier that night, even the stars seemed dimmer. Whatever she had been drugged with had taken a toll on her system and her body felt like it was being pulled in a million different directions. Her bones ached and trembled as she shifted for the run back to the school. 

The school was peacefully quiet and still when she returned. Hope couldn’t handle any more excitement or stress tonight. Thoughts of Josie swirled through her mind. Her girlfriend was clearly distressed earlier that evening when they were together, she hadn’t ended things between them, but they were definitely in an uncertain place. 

Maybe this could be the answer the Saltzmans had been searching for for nearly seventeen years. 

She’d done all that she could for tonight, however, all that was left was to sleep. She’d managed her way to her room, nearly unconscious on her feet as she crawled into bed, praying for a dreamless sleep. 

#Legacies #hope mikaelson #hope x josie #hosie #hosie fanfic #ship: hosie #josie saltzman #the mikaelsons #esther mikaelson #lizzie saltzman #Milton (Mg) Greasley #KALEB HAWKINS #rafael waithe #landon kirby #freya mikaelson #the originals #The Mikaelson Family #rebekah mikaelson #marcel gerard #Kol mikaelson #davina claire #Keelin Malraux

[red-winters]

*Batfam fic-recs

*Some are Tim Drake Centric

**Some links are not working in mobile (and ONLY mobile) for some reason? And some titles that were bolded in the original post are ALSO not displaying on mobile correctly. Idk what to do about that, but you can still look up the fic, I guess.

The Bat’s Crest - livierambles

Note: I will always keep recommending this fic. It’s epic, thrilling, and hilarious and sometimes angsty. Also, everyone is confused, including the ones doing the confusing. Maybe especially the ones doing the confusing. Also, some Tim and Damian bonding, which is always nice.

Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls.

In the Shadows - Kieron_ODuibhir

(shortened) Summary:

“I’m not like you.”

The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.” 

Chirp - AmariT

Summary: Every piece of the signal Tim unlocked revealed more locks, and by the time he broke through the last one, he was already mentally rehearsing his many upcoming talk show appearances. 'Yes,' he told the interviewer, 'it was difficult for me, a ten-year-old genius, to break open the worldwide alien conspiracy. That's why it took a whole hour.'

When the crackling audio started, he expected some weird alien language. Maybe squawks and high-pitched squeals mixed with musical woofs. Maybe they wouldn't talk at all, and images would beam directly into his mind. Maybe they'd talk in practiced English with a Midwestern drawl like their other resident alien.

Instead he heard a low, guttural voice growling out of his computer speakers. "Robin," it said. "Are you in position?"

A Better Cage - Mangaluva

Note: I was absolutely DELIGHTED to see a Young Justice Crossover with the Justice Lords (Earth-50) from the animated Justice League series, which is near and dear to my heart. I admit I haven’t really had much time to hunker down and read this, but even skimming, it’s an intriguing piece of work. Also, Justice Lords.

Summary: Wally's grateful to have woken up at all, really. He just doesn't know what to make of the world he's woken up in. At least they want to find a way to his world as much as he does, if not exactly for the same reasons...

Common People - AmariT

Note: The Bat boys are all Bruce’s blood sons, but it still feels very much like a found family. I haven’t really read everything in this series, but I feel the author has an amazing grip on all the characters. Lovely and heartwarming.

Summary: His whole life, Jason’s mom had told him his dad was Bruce Wayne, but he’d never been dumb enough to actually believe it. They lived in a rundown, one-room apartment in the worst part of town, and in every single picture he’d ever seen of that rich bastard he was wearing a suit or sipping champagne worth more than everything they’d ever owned.

But if he wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s kid, then what the hell was he doing sitting outside the man’s office in Wayne Towers?

Red Robin and the Hood - momoejaku

Note: Haven’t read this in a while, but it made an impression. Though it’s a fic set during the Red Robin arc, it very much is about both Tim and Jason. Plus, it fleshes out the Pru and Z a bit more, too.

Summary: Bruce Wayne is dead. Superman brought back his body, and the family mourned him, holding a quiet funeral in secret so that the legacy of Batman could live on. But not everyone has been able to put him to rest.

Reeling from the loss of Bruce, his identity as Robin and his trust in his family, Tim Drake sets out on a personal quest that will take him across the world to prove what he knows in his heart: that Bruce Wayne is alive.

Though intending to make his way alone, Tim reluctantly accepts help from his predecessor, Jason Todd, who knows from personal experience that death is not always as final as it seems.

Together, they are Red Robin and the Hood.

Liminal Spaces - Calamityjim

Note: Skimmed this only since I’ve been busy, BUT it does look well-written, and I’m always a sucker for alternate dimension/dimension travel intervention-type of fix-its. It’s a very specific trope.

Summary:

Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension.

Or

When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him.

Little Bird’s Vengeance - KatHarkness-Katara

Note: Crossover with Avengers. Awesome fic with Tim and Jason and some Outsider POV (via the Avengers) of these dimensional stragglers. I think Tim’s team shows up in the later chapters, too. If you’re reading on mobile, it’s still very much worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version.

Summary: Why is life never simple? Red Robin's ended up worlds away from home once again, and now what's he to do? What do the Avengers want from him; do SHIELD have another agenda; and is there any way back? Pre-New 52. No slash. Rated for inevitable language/violent themes.

A Displaced Red Robin - dragonprincess1988

Note: Worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version. Well-written fic! EMOTIONS! I love them. Younger Dick Grayson is adorable, Tim is a competent fixer-upper for other people but not so much himself. He’s kind of angsty and making YJ Dick want to keep him (and YJ Bruce, too, if you read between the lines). On the plus side, seems like he’s making good friends with Young Justice Roy. This fic was written before certain episodes of YJ came out, though, and the fic reflects/will continue to reflect that. Still, I give it five stars.

Author’s Summary: Tim gets transported to the cartoon Young Justice world, and he's not sure he knows how to deal with it. Attention: If you want to know about Artemis or people from Tim's world the final note on my profile is for you. Also, a special thank you to angel-gidget over at Tumblr, who made the wonderful cover art for this story.

The Till-then From the Ever Since - Keiron O_Duibhir

Note: Fandom classic. Definitely a must-read for Batfam fans, in my humble opinion.

Summary: It began, or seemed to begin, with Jason.

Usually that would have meant something in the order of fire and explosion and probably at least one gunshot wound, but for once (as Tim said, sourly), it wasn't actually Jason's fault.

The Wayne Family Ghost - pupeez4eva

Note: Please read this. Especially if you’re sad or anxious or just have time. I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s my go-to cheer-up fic. Absolutely hysterical.

Summary: In which Bruce realizes that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic. 

Bloodline - chibi_nightowl

Note: Complicated family dynamics, this time centering around Tim, Selina, Bruce and, surprisingly, Damian. Jason and Dick make an appearance as supportive big bros, too. It works. Take a read, it isn’t that long.

Summary:

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Talon!Tim AU Series by keeptogethernow

Note: Found family, from a different angle. Cool fic and well-written.

Summary of Tso’ape Mumbichi, first in the series: Ten years ago, two people made a deal with the devil--unlimited funds in exchange for their child. And now it's time to pay up. But there's no way to ensure that the child will cooperate.

Shutterbug Series by goldkirk

Note: Exactly what it says on the tin! Found family.

Summary:

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird next door neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.

Thursday’s Child - anthalogia

Note: Well-written and has found family and Tiny!Tim? Automatic win.

Summary:

He’s not the first child with nowhere else to go that Bruce Wayne has taken in. Dick Grayson was the first and the most high-profile – because no one would have thought Bruce Wayne was interested in ever raising a child, let alone the orphaned son of circus performers – but Jason was maybe just as much of a shock to society for being a street kid who came out of seemingly nowhere. Tim Drake is ordinary by comparison – his parents died in a plane accident. He can’t think of anything very special about him except that he met Bruce a few times when his parents hosted parties to keep in touch with Gotham society.

Or, tiny Tim Drake is adopted by the Waynes a little earlier than scheduled.

We’re Not Driving (How did we get here?) - TimTheToaster

Note: Short and sweet, a little angsty, and then very sweet.

Summary:

Tim stared at his phone, as if that would change what was on the screen.

Dick Grayson @FlyingDGrayson

It took some doing, and in some cases a little blackmail, but we've finally got the whole family together for a movie night! #WayneManor #movienight #familytime #schedulingisanightmare

15 minutes ago

Take It Back Now Y’all - TimTheToaster

Note: And Tiny!Jason has made his appearance. Also, Tim, I am begging you to please take care of yourself—ah, Bruce has made his appearance. Interesting. Also, I gotta say this author is good.

Summary:

There was absolutely no way this sunshine was from Gotham in April.

Not possible.

Which meant, Tim was no longer in Gotham, in April.

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Takes a Little Time, Takes a Lotta Twine (To Get Us Back Together) - TimTheToaster

Note: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, beginning of reconciliation, and brotherhood. A satisfying, cathartic moment during the Red Robin arc to soothe your heart.

Summary:

Tim was in Gotham.

Tim had pretty specifically been avoiding thinking about Dick as much as possible for the last few weeks.

For the last year, really. No need to open that can of carnivorous worms.

Dick had other plans.

Everybody’s Heard (Bird is the Word) - TimTheToaster

Red Robin Era ANGST, but like, deliciously well-written. Also, protective Dad Bruce is always epic. Light bashing of Green Arrow and BC, though. But considering the situation (in this fic), kind of warranted.

Summary:

5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,

And 1 time they were talking about his son.

A Choice to Make - scorbusfics

Note: fresh and interesting premise! Cool world building, too.

Summary: They have to choose. Dick and Bruce have to choose one person each to save, and one to disappear through the door.

“Send one of us,” Dick says fiercely, not for the first time. His face is dark and angry and desperate, eyes flicking from brother to brother. “Send one of us instead. I won’t choose.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce says.

But Tim knows.

Secret Places - RenaRoo

It’s ANGST, but the author knows how to use it well. Also, Jason’s line at the end killed me. Damn.

Summary: Tim Drake goes missing. The search to find him begins.

#fic recs #batfam #tim drake fic rec #batfam fic rec

[more-of-morgan]

“Comfortable being uncomfortable”: The story of Coco the Joat

By: Morgan Watley

May 10, 2021

ATLANTA-The 20s are a trying time for any individual. For Courtney Buckhanan, nearing the end of her twenties, life is full of many trials and tribulations, especially for a black woman. Growing up in the predominantly white town of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Courtney never felt like she did not belong but expressed that she was "whitewashed" and "disconnect from her culture." She shared that her parents instilled confidence in her at a young age, given that the doctor told them she would grow to be 6 feet 5 inches tall. Courtney was also on the heavier side growing up, but she never let this stop her from what she wanted and needed. After 18 years of growing up in Milwaukee, she decided there needed to be a change. So, she applied to only HBCU's (historically black college/university) and ended up going to Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia. She wanted a genuine college experience and stated, " I wanted to feel normal because my whole life I felt abnormal."

   Upon her arrival at Spelman College, she was astounded by the amount of black excellence surrounding her. However, the excellence was a bit overwhelming. She shared, " I was always trying to do things to fit in and not necessarily stand out" this made her feel as though she did not utilize college to the best of her ability to make a voice for herself. She graduated from Spelman dishearten because she believed she could have done better academically and socially. Once she moved back home for a few years and started graduate school, a sense of fear and sadness came to her, causing her to gain the weight she lost in college back and becoming the heaviest she'd ever been. Soon she decided enough was enough, and it was time to get the weight off once in for all.

  From here, she began to document her weight loss journey through social media and saw how powerful social media could be. For a small amount of time, she did makeup tutorials on YouTube and also got into fashion. Courtney has her had in many baskets, but she likes it that way, and ultimately this has become the brand for herself. She goes by Coco the Joat (Jane of all trades). Her mother, Dorothy Buckhahan, stated, " Courtney knows how to do a little of everything, her memory is incredible, and she brings unselfish joy to all."

Courtney calling herself "the joat" fits her perfectly; she's not only done social media work but also worked in finance and, at one point, was a teacher in the Milwaukee public school system. Through teaching, she saw how "redlined" Milwaukee. She stated, "they set black children up to fail in the system, and you know it's bad when during training the district says that they were found guilty of overwhelmingly disserving children of color by numerous national organizations." The experience of the public school system left her broken-hearted, making her realize that Milwaukee was no longer the town she knew and loved, which ultimately led to her leaving Wisconsin.

    Through her experience of being a plus-sized 6-foot black woman, Courtney has learned to own her body no matter how it looks. She shared that because she grew up being tall and curvy, her parents said, "you have to become comfortable with being uncomfortable because you will tower over others no matter where you go." Courtney has an overwhelming amount of confidence in who she is and shared this quote "God gave everyone the body he gave them for the purpose they're meant to serve in this world." With that being said, Courtney continues to thrive on social media serving looks and giving confidence to many curvy women. She is now in the process of creating a marketing firm for black influencers and businesses to feel seen, heard, and own their social media presence. She believes it is crucial because there aren't many people of color in the rooms of what gets marketed to their community.

Here is Courtney’s extraordinary weight loss.

Here is her thriving Instagram page gaining new followers everyday.

[uhhhhyandere]

i’m alive. 

i really am lmao. just gone through a pretty bad mental state tho. i’m trying to write my way through it, and I figured I would share some! it got 10x worse now that I had to move back home from college bc of corona, so i’m going to probably be sporadically writing. 

stay healthy y’all! here’ the result of me playing my fifth time through three houses.

You read a poem once. Back in the day when there was enough time to indulge yourself in such frivolities, you used to read a lot of poems. In the fresh, clean winds that blew through the grassy field below the walls of Garreg Mach, you would situate yourself under the same oak tree. Sometimes it would be in the early mornings when the sky was just beginning to wake in a bask of pink, orange, and blue, but more often you would find yourself reading poems about the mortality and searing reality of war and tragic love affairs with only the light of the sun setting illuminating the print. Each work evocating a pain you should have expected before picking them off the shelf.

Perhaps you were always a stickler for things that hurt you. 

You don’t know why this particular poem was reiterating itself in your mind right now. It spoke of ice and fire, of death and desire, and of the world dying all in a mere nine lines.

No, you were lying to yourself. A little more than five years ago, this poem meant nothing to you. It did not wrench your gut like the epics of long-dead heroes and narratives of unrequited love did at the time. The short poem was something you read in a book of one-stanza poems you happened upon in the library before Tomas’s identity even came out. You remember not being able to discern a theme or meaning between the lines. There was no hidden text or interpretation to be done. What was there is what was there. 

Now, with blood staining the breeze and fire burning through the land under a black and red flag, you found the lines reciting in your head. The scorching heat of when Edelgard set fire to the center point of Gronder Field as you were in the midst of fighting on the very wood set aflame, the sickening burn of splattered blood on your cheeks of a slain enemy, an enemy you most likely once called friend, and the overwhelming intensity of the endless battles raging through Fodlan.  

Goddess, the smoke of the Empire permeated even the air around the monastery.

You exhaled, unable to shake the heavy feeling in your chest. Everyone was shaken from Gronder Field, even Felix, though he would never show or say so. Pointing your blade at the throat of Petra, locking eyes with Claude moments before he released an arrow in your direction (in all fairness, you believe he missed on purpose), they were images cemented in your brain. No prying, no treatment would dilute their intensity, especially as you slept, or tried to. The sun had long set over the mountain, and stars were beginning to peek out into the darkening sky. You huddled more into your cloak to hide from the icy breeze. 

Ice. 

Where fire burned, ice bit and nipped inside your bones. It left its own white heat in its wake. From the inside out, it crawled and it inched down your nerves, your muscles, your skin. The chill would reside over you for much longer. You looked up at the Goddess tower before you, impermeable in the night. Your heart wrenched. You’d been there on a night not so dissimilar to this one, mind the peace of the time and the ball music muffled by the walls. A happier time where you weren’t forced against old friends 0n the battlefield where you found yourself first connecting with the other houses. 

You winced, tears slipping from the squeeze of your eyes. Goddess, you wanted that again. You wanted him again.

But he was ice, a danger as much as the fire was to Fodlan at the moment. Creeping in your core, this was a chill that did not go away in any sauna or in any soup Dedue could stir up in the kitchen, but you did not want to get warm. The heat melts ice, after all, and this ice was so… thin. 

You wiped your stray tears. He could not see you cry, not without risking his temper. The boy from years ago, you knew how to do your best with him. He was much more amicable to your advances to help. 

With this man now, you toed a thin line. 

Fulfilling your promise from five years prior along with the rest of those your professor recruited, you did not expect the boy you fell in love with, the boy whose room you would tip-toe into in the dead of night, the boy you trained with and helped you become the fighter you were now,  and the boy who would sacrifice, by his word, everything for you to be the man you saw that day. Least of all did you expect those feelings or some semblance of them, to remain inside his shattered soul, but, along with himself, they festered into something twisted.

Or, perhaps this has been him the entire time, hidden under the persona of royal perfection if Felix’s continued abhorrence spoke to anything. This truth, however, bit back at you. Weren’t you supposed to be the one to see it? Weren’t you supposed to be that endless fountain of unadulterated support? Weren’t you supposed to know him? 

This guilt ate away at you. You could have done something. Goddess, anything, yet you missed it, and you stayed away for five years grieving over a man who lives, 0r, at the very least, survives. You had to make up for what you missed, both the time he was left alone here, and everything else under your gaze at the academy, 

No matter what it took.

You felt him before you saw him. Despite his seemingly inhuman strength, his footsteps were silent as they traversed across the empty monastery. The wind blowing through the cracks of the wall and ceiling covered up every noise. It almost felt like it was empty, if not for the hands gripping your hips and the heat on your back. 

“Dimitri,” you spoke. He was not the vocal boy he once was, the bundle of awkward phrases and misspoken sentences. Dimitri communicated in touch now, feel, because words outside of threats of death and useless soothings to the dead were not part of any love language. His hands, icy despite his body heat, traversed up your side. You did not jump or try to escape when he neared what you already knew he was looking for. Trying to escape anything he does only leads to more misery. “I tried to patch it up myself on the march back. Didn’t want to bother anyone.” You winced as his claw put mild pressure on the poor excuse of a bandage. 

His head wrapped around to observe your face, and you prayed you had hidden the evidence of your sorrow well enough. Unfortunately, his remaining eye was still as discerning. 

“Do you weep for them?”

“W-what?”

“Those fools. Those who would get in our way, are your tears for them?” Despite your fear, you knew Dimitri would not harm you. At least, not kill you, so you risked turning around, forcing his arms back to his side. 

“Dimitri…”

“They would stop me from ridding these ghosts, these demons, and yet you cry for their deaths? They are no longer your peers. Anyone who gets in our way is an enemy, no matter the past, and they hurt you. They hurt you, Y/N. I’ll crush anyone who dares touch what is mine.” 

“It’s just a scratch.” From saving your self-destructing ass from getting spliced by a lance. You decided to forego that part. “I should have had Manuela or Mercedes look at it before.”

“No.” Abruptly, he turned his back, the fur of his cape hitting you in the process. His large, hulking form retreated into the chapel. You followed wordlessly. “Sit.” Again, you complied. He pulled from beneath the nearby pew a small box of medical supplies. “No one touches you but me. Strip.”

“It’s cold.” 

“Strip.” In the breeze, you lifted your shirt off. His hands were long passed the point of calloused. Under the gloves, his skin was rough as he cleaned the dried blood from your skin and continued to address the wound. The finished product wasn’t nearly as well done as if your priests had done it, but it would do. “No one touches you but me.” 

“Okay.” Dimitri stood and made his way to his regular spot. Murmurs started not so long after. At his side, you would stand. Then, by his legs, you would sit. Finally, at his feet, you would lie. The rubble digging into your back and Dimitri’s growls of promised vengeance to the dead lulled you into the same restless sleep as always.

#dimitri x reader #yandere dimitri #yandere dimitri x reader #yandere fire emblem #yandere three houses #honestly tho on brand for post time skip dimitri so #need i even tag yandere #tho for theme i will

[buckyreaderrecs]

A Toast to Whiskey: Chapter 2 / 2

CLICK TO READ PART ONE

Summary: You work in an old bar hidden away from the modern world. It’s almost charming, but not quite. That’s probably why Bucky likes it.

Part 2: Steve finds Buck, then you. Lush! Bucky and a cat! Christmas! Domestic bliss! 

Words: 10,093 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker Additional tags: Bucky needs a hug, recovering Bucky, mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), angst, she/her pronouns, brief mention of Nazis, mention of suicide attempt (no scenes of it though), medium level discussion of Bucky’s past trauma, Peter is mentioned and has one line, v briefly mentioned: Sharon/Peggy/Sam/Wanda/Pepper, friendship with Steve, Lush Cosmetics, Steve/Bucky friendship

Dedicated to: all the people that helped brainstorm Christmas gifts - @browngirlmagic @megthemewlingquim @pinnedandneedled @cosmicbreathe @headmistressofbitchcraft @valkyriesryde

Note:  When I thought of this fic, I split it into two parts that were meant to be equal. Part one was 2,325 words. This one is 10,093. I am sorry. Lol.

A Toast to Whiskey Chapter 2 / 2

To say you missed Bucky's presence was an understatement. It was kind of remarkable, actually. Considering how quiet he was, how he mostly just sat, it seemed strange to miss him so deeply, but that you did. He'd been in your life for months. To have him suddenly not there was a lesson in soft brutality. Others noticed too.

"Miss ya boyfriend there, missy?" the regulars teased.

"Where'd that mystery man get to then?" co-workers asked.

When two weeks Bucky-less came and went, you finally resigned to the fact that maybe you'd just have to let it go. You'd have to stop wondering if The Avengers had a phone number. You'd have to stop taking detours wherever you were going just to pass Stark Tower in the hopes you'd cross paths with Bucky. You'd just have to… stop.

Then the most surreal thing happened. Captain fucking America walked through the bar's door.

It was around midday on a Friday. You'd just opened up and were still pulling chairs from the tabletops from where they rested overnight. A few regulars were sat at the bar, waiting for their table to be set up over by the television screen. They paid no mind to Steve Rogers as he stepped into the dimly lit room, the streams of light he briefly let in highlighting the dust particles in the air.

When you saw him, your stomach dropped and your heart jumped out of your mouth. As Steve approached, you stumbled backwards, recollections of all bad news delivered before flashing in your mind.

Please, no.

"Hi. Are you Y/N?" he asked. When you managed to nod your head, he continued, his voice calm. "I'm-"

"I know. Is he okay?" you interrupted.

Steve had been interrupted many times. He was used to it. Another thing he was unfortunately accustomed to was giving people bad news.

"Yes. We’ve found him-"

"He was missing?!"

The volume of your voice drew attention from the people at the bar. "You right there, Y/N?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, yeah, Dave. Thanks. I'm alright."

Looking back to Steve, you caught the last split second of a smirk being willed off his face. "Y/N," Steve started. "Buck doesn't… doesn't know I know about you. But…"

"Where is he?"

"He's fine. He's at the Tower," he answered, his hands coming up in a defensive position. "Look, Y/N. I think he needs a friend…"

"What are you?" you snapped, suddenly blaming Steve for whatever had happened.

There was silence while you watched each other, working each other out.

Steve had not purposefully set out to spy on Bucky, or anything of that nature. In passing Peter Parker had said, "Mr. Rogers Captain Rogers Sir," and told him how he thought it was super cool that Bucky Barnes' local pub was across the road from a place Peter sometimes bought bubble tea from. It sparked curiosity that Steve ignored for as long as he could. But it got the better of him.

"I'm his best friend. But you've been given me a run for my money for a while. He spends more time in here than with the rest of us combined."

You thought about that for a second. Fuck, that was sad. "That means he spends a lot of time alone,"

"Yeah… Think that's been the problem…" Steve replied slowly.

Out of nowhere, Steve's composure changed. In a motion too fast for you to track, he pulled a chair off a table and sat. His elbows were pressed into his thighs and his head was in his hands. He groaned a little, then sat up straight, looking right at you.

"Buck… he… he does it sometimes. Disappears for a few days. No communication. He's always come back though. And it's only ever been a for a few days… This time, after a week we got worried…"

"You found him though," you pressed, annoyed at the pace of Steve's story.

"We found him. He wasn't in good shape, Y/N. I don't think…"

When Steve had walked in, you thought that something had happened to Bucky on a mission or something like that. The worst case scenario, of which you had only entertained for the shortest of times, was that Hydra had been lurking in the shadows, waiting.

Another possibility became painfully apparent at the end of Steve's trailed off sentence. Somehow, the thought of it hurt more than all the others.

Steve could see it on your face you knew what he was trying to say. You needed to hear it though. It was the only way it could be real.

"He wasn't planning on coming back."

Bucky wasn't planning on running away either. It was the metaphorical end of the line for him. Like so many times before, Bucky Barnes had forgotten to factor in Steve bloody Rogers. Saved by his best friend yet again, Bucky had woke up in a clinically clean room in Stark Tower. If he thought it was hard to get drunk, trying to kill himself was even harder.

You knew there was no comparing your friendship with Bucky to Steve's. There hadn't been a friendship in the history of humankind that could compare. Making Steve say it out loud wasn't kind, but it wasn't unnecessary cruelty either.

"Will you come see him?"

…

You thought you'd known weird. Turns out, nope. Being escorted into Stark Tower by Steve Rogers was weird. Being full body scanned by technology you couldn't begin to comprehend was weird. Feeling so, so much about someone you barely knew was weird.

All the weird became secondary to a rushing wave of relief at seeing Bucky Barnes. The wave met a tall, unmoveable wall very quickly. Bucky wasn't awake. Steve sat in a chair next to Bucky's bed and motioned for you to take the one on the other side.

Bucky was pale, lips chapped and hair stringy. Someone cared for him though. Although messy, the hair was tied back in a bun. There was a tube of chapstick sitting on the bedside table.

The sheet was pulled up under his arms. He was in a thin, white singlet. You'd never seen his vibranium arm; he'd always been in jackets in the bar. He'd always worn gloves, even after it was apparent you knew who he was. The scars on his body were confronting, but you had to file that away for a later day.

"Fuck," you finally said on a breath out.

Steve nodded in deep agreement.

"He's gonna wake up." You'd meant it as a statement but it definitely curved up too much at the end.

"He will," Steve confirmed. "He's lost a lot of blood… They tried blood transfusions but his body… The serum in him is too unstable. It made him worse. We just have to wait. He'll heal himself,"

"Okay," you said softly as you shuffled the chair closer to the bed.

As you took Bucky's hand in yours, you thought what all people do when they're bedside like that. Can they hear me? Do they know I'm here? You rubbed gentle circles across his skin with your thumb.

For a while, Steve was still, then he too dragged his chair across the floor. He got as close to the bed as he could, then folded an arm on the mattress and rested his head. You watched him look up at his best friend. Steve reached out with his free hand and gently stroked Bucky's cheek once, then settled in for the wait.

…

Sleep was uneasy, but it came. When you uncurled your body from the chair, you were alone with Bucky. He hadn't moved, hadn't dreamed. He wasn't really asleep but in some sort of super soldier serum limbo that you hoped to God wasn't a form of Hell.

It was only about ten minutes before Steve arrived back in the room. He came bearing gifts - coffee and a doughnut.

"Did you think he was going to wake up, like, when I got here?" you asked.

Steve shrugged. He'd changed clothes at some point while you slept. Grey track pants and a white t-shirt. Comfy. Casual. Not very Captain America but you guessed, pretty Steve Rogers.

"No. Yes. I don't know… We don't know when he'll wake up… I just thought he'd want to see you,"

"Do you think he comes and proper hangs out with me? Because he doesn't. He just kinda…"

"I know. Buck's never been that much of a talker. Even before. Doesn't stop him from being charming," Steve said.

"No… it doesn't. Guess he wouldn't come to see us if he didn't wanna," you reasoned, thinking about the awkward prospect of Bucky waking up and asking why the bartender was there.

"He wouldn't, no," Steve agreed.

Silence was comfortable with Steve, which was a blessing because you sat watching the television with him for a couple of hours. That's when you really took in the room beyond Bucky and the bed. It was a strange mix of hospital and home.

When you had arrived earlier, the elevator delivered you to a sweeping hallway. It didn't give much away in terms of what the function of the floor was. Stark Tower was multi-purpose. Very multi-purpose. It was head office to an ever-growing business. It was science and technology laboratories. It was home base for The Avengers. Those were the things the public knew the building did.

On the list of suspected functions included primary home of Tony Stark. Correct, although he had many other properties. Pepper was trying to sell some without Tony knowing. The Tower had to house weapons too, as the headquarters of The Avengers. Correct. Definitely in the upper limit of what was legal. Where did all The Avengers live? Where did the ones from space stay when on Earth? Theory was the Tower. Correct. Many, but not all, superheroes affiliated had very large, very beautiful private spaces in the Tower. I surely had to have its own medical wing. Incorrect. It wasn't a wing.

Stark Tower had its own dedicated floor for bio and med. Cutting edge research. Direct and tailored medical support. And that's where you had found yourself. A hospital room, spectacularly disguised as comfortable. Regardless of the armchairs by Bucky's bed and the huge flat screen, it wouldn't ever not smell like bleach.

By mid-morning, it became apparent that this wasn't Sleeping Beauty and Bucky wasn't going to wake up just because you were there with all your true... whatever.

"What's the plan?" you asked.

Steve sighed hard, stood from the chair and stretched. Your attention stayed on Bucky, but when Steve failed to answer, your eyes flicked to him. He seemed very agitated by not knowing what to do. He couldn't Captain America his way out of this one.

"You're welcome to stay. There's a room next door. We can take shifts… Or if you want to head home I can call when he wakes…"

"I'll stay," you decided quickly. Nothing else seemed as important.

…

Two days later, you'd gotten more sleep than you would have predicted. The room next door to Bucky's was another designed for the injured, but it doubled as a hotel room just as well. The bed was comfortable and nobody disturbed you when it was your turn to rest. You and Steve shared takeaway and swapped stories. It was nice to find a real human beneath the public image.

Steve could see why Bucky had continued to gravitate back towards you. You made him feel normal. And he almost came to enjoy the routine you and he had fallen into, keeping watch of Bucky. Then, as you were throwing grapes across the room, aiming for Steve's mouth, you both heard him.

Bucky mumbled a very groggy, "Fuck," as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Buck?" Steve called, appearing at the bedside in a second.

You walked over more slowly, carefully. What if he did think it was strange you were there?

Bucky tried to move, but Steve put his arm across him. "Nope, Pal. Stay right there,"

"Lemme up, Steve," Bucky said, still groggy.

Steve folded, moving away so Bucky could sit up. He rubbed his face, his unshaved jawline. You almost thought he hadn't noticed you, but then, "How long have ya been spying on me then?"

Bucky looked at Steve, raised his eyebrows.

Neither you nor Steve had ever been in this specific situation before. No script for what someone waking from a suicide attempt should do or say. But you were both shocked by Bucky's… normality. He'd just sat up like it was another day. Not like he'd run away, hurt himself, never said goodbye.

"What the absolute fuck!" Steve whispered. Was it to himself or to Bucky? You were unsure. Bucky just stared at him, expressionless. "That's not- How could- Jesus, Buck. What were you thinking?"

You cringed, knowing it was the wrong thing for Steve to say.

"What was I thinking?" Bucky repeated.

There was a second of silence. Two. Then Bucky just ripped the covers off, swung his legs out of bed and stood up. He looked down at himself, then up at you. It was the first eye contact you'd had since he woke, and it caught the breath in your lungs and swallowed it up.

"Hey, darlin'," he greeted softly. He'd never called you that before. Before you knew it, he'd closed the space between you and had pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Sorry for all the fuss,"

"Ahh…" you started to say, but he was already walking away.

"Bucky!" Steve yelled, following him through the door. "Where are you going? We need to talk," he urged.

Feeling very out of place, you just followed Steve, hoping sticking close to him would lead you back to comfort.

"Steve, look," Bucky said, spinning on his heels. "I know, alright… I know… But I need… I can't be here. This place is drivin' me crazy… And I'm already ten different types of that,"

"Where are you going to go?" Steve asked, his voice smaller and sadder than it had just been.

Bucky shrugged casually, almost comically.

"You scared the shit out of me,"

"Not the first, won't be the last," Bucky joked, deflected.

"It could have been."

That made Bucky shut up. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Steve.

"But it wasn't. Someone needs to stick around to look after your stupid ass," Bucky said.

"Then stick around."

If you felt out of place before… Watching the two men hug then step away from each other, you could feel the weight of their history in the air. It was oppressive and you were honestly in awe. Then, before you knew you were even speaking, you just squeaked out, "You can stay with me."

…

Bucky had taken you up on the offer like he wasn't an ex-prisoner of war with decades of trauma just sitting below the surface of his crumbling composure. He'd disappeared upstairs to change and grab a bag or two, leaving you and Steve standing in utter shock.

"Are you okay?" you asked as soon as Bucky was gone.

"I… Christ, I don't know, Y/N. That wasn't normal was it?"

You laughed then. "I don't fucking know. Do you mean for someone who just… or for him? 'Cause you're meant to the expert,"

"Not anymore apparently," Steve said, more hurt than bitter.

"I'll… try to…" You were going to say 'look after him' but the concept of looking after Bucky Barnes seemed ridiculous. Steve had kinda just proven that.

Steve looked defeated, so you did the only humanly right thing to do. You pulled him into a hug. He welcomed it.

"Thought when we brought him home he'd be alright," Steve mumbled into you. "Stupid,"

"Not stupid. Just hopeful. I… Look, I don't know what…"

"I know. Sorry. Sorry, Y/N. I've just pulled you into all this when you were just-"

"No, no. It's okay. I… I'm glad I'm here. He can come stay with me. Make a plan or something. Does he have a doctor or anything?"

The enormity of the situation dawned on you both then. The complexity of it stunning you into silence. Bucky had gone through abject horror and hell and he'd survived. His body had been stitched and sewn back together. His brain had been rewired, given back to him. But now what? Nobody had really thought of that.

…

Bucky was back to his cap-wearing, strong and silent type on the way over to your apartment. Through the doors, he dropped his bags and looked around.

"I'll make some tea," you said quietly, leaving him to introduce himself to the space.

Your apartment was on the third floor of a pretty old block of units. The space was small. Sometimes it was too small for just one bartender… And yet, Bucky didn't seem too big for the space. From the kitchenette you watched him walk from the front door across the open-plan space. He glanced at the bed, probably wondering where exactly you planned on keeping him. Bucky stood at the window, surveying the view.

"How do you take your tea?" you asked.

"However," he replied.

Frowning, you shook your head. "That's… not… What do you mean?"

Bucky turned, smiled, almost confused at your confusion. "Not picky,"

"Everyone has a preference."

He just shrugged.

"No… Come here. Sit down," you ordered.

Bucky smirked. He considered it for a second, then strode over to the kitchenette and sat at the small breakfast bar.

"Take your fucking cap off. This is your home now so you can drop the weird mysterious guy thing," you told him, putting four mugs out on the bar.

Bucky chuckled and obeyed. "Didn't Steve tell ya to be gentle with me or somethin'? Don't cha know I'm all messed up?"

You could hear it in his voice that he was taking the piss.

"There he is," you said, smiling. "Alright. I'm gonna make four teas, alright? You're gonna try them all and you'll know which you like best,"

"Don't think it matters, Y/N. It's just tea,"

"It's not. It's not just tea. It's… it's about preference. You can have things the way you want."

Bucky watched you pour the boiled water, brew the teas.

"I don't want someone else tryna fix me," he said seriously.

You pushed milk and sugar towards him. "If Captain America can't fix you, I don't think anybody can."

Bucky took the mug and held both palms to it. You wondered if he could feel the warmth in his left. (He could.)

"Then why am I here?" he asked, going to sip the tea.

You paused, trying to think of a good answer to that question.

Thinking.

Thinking.

"I… don't know… One minute you're sitting at my bar drinking whiskey. Next minute you're… in my house drinking tea… I have no fucking idea how this happened."

He made a face, pushing the mug back across the table. You swapped it for milk no sugar.

"It's a bad idea. Me being here."

Bucky tasted the tea and let you swap it again. No milk no sugar.

"Then why are you here?"

"Ain't that what I just asked you?" he quipped.

No milk sugar. And an unimpressed look that made him laugh.

"I'm here because since I've been stateside I've just wanted to… I don't know. Rest. Take a fuckin' second. Feel normal… First time I've felt normal was in your bar drinkin' your whiskey,"

"…What about my tea?"

"Also works… Milk and no sugar."

…

Bucky didn't make any jokes about how tiny your place was. After tea, small talk, you handed him the television remote, threw him a blanket and told him to make himself at home. You both went about your nights individually, but side by side. After all the tension of Stark Tower, it was overwhelmingly relaxing. There wasn't a moment where you asked yourself if it was stupid to let someone as dangerous as Bucky Barnes into your home. There wasn't a moment of reconsideration. It was just… easy from the first night.

"Buck, that sofa folds out bigger," you told him, climbing into your bed after showering and getting into P.J.s in the bathroom.

Bucky, who was still in the jeans and henley shirt he'd changed into at the Tower, glanced over. "You going to bed?" He sounded scandalised.

"Sorry, Jesus. Some of us haven't been asleep for days."

Bucky laughed. "Brave joke, darlin'."

There it was again, that nickname. Was it chosen or did it slip out when he wasn't watching his words?

In the morning, it was like you'd spoken in your sleep, conversed with each other and decided on a routine. Bucky was standing in the kitchenette when you woke. He'd clearly been for a run; his headphones hanging around his neck and his runners still on his feet. He was cooking.

"Hey," he greeted when you made your way over, sitting down. "Wow. Can see why you work at a bar. Not a morning person."

Your morning expression was one part deep confusion about not still being asleep, and one part anger about not still being asleep. Bucky kinda loved it.

As you ate bacon and eggs with him, you tried to process how you got to that point. It seemed like a fruitless task. Up until Bucky, your life was… well, it was easy to explain. Doing A resulted in B happening. A simple story. Then, Bucky. Doing A resulted in nothing, and suddenly Z was happening out of nowhere. Like, Jesus Christ, stuff like that just didn't happen. But the coffee was really truly being poured and Bucky was really truly just… there.

…

You went back to work quickly; you'd used up too many leave days sitting by Bucky's hospital bed. Picking up a couple of extra shifts in that first week Bucky was at yours, you hardly had time to really talk to him. He was a ghost in your home for all intents and purpose. It worried you. Each time you left the apartment, you'd try to find a new way of checking he was okay, that he'd be there when you got back.

"Are you doing anything today?"

"Seeing Steve later?"

"Not planning on trying to hurt yourself today?"

Bucky recognised the concern in your voice. It was the same tone he used to take with Steve before everything happened. It was the same tone Steve used on him now. Goddamn those turning tables. He did his best to be reassuring without lying to you. He felt he owed you that much, at the very least.

What else did he have to offer though?

That's when it started. Bucky Barnes turned into your bodyguard, personal chef, housekeeper, and handyman. When you realised it was part of him trying to cope, settle in, be okay, you just let him do it. You'd never won any fights to try to stop him. And, you kinda liked it.

He'd be lingering out the front of the bar when you locked up. Bucky would walk you the two streets home, mumbling "Can't believe you do this alone," the whole way. If he was early for pick up, he'd come in and put chairs on tables. He mopped once. The task was completed with frightening efficiency.

By the end of the week, the apartment was spotless. What did the Winter Soldier look like holding a feather duster? Had he read the spines of all the books on the shelves? Was the television on while he cleaned, or was he a music kind of guy? You could have sworn you saw him narrow your eyes when you left an empty dish on the coffee table.

"You went food shopping?" you asked stupidly one morning, waking up to the sound of Bucky unpacking groceries. He raised an eyebrow, went to provide sass, but you put a hand up. "Don't! Just… make me some coffee, please."

As he placed the mug on your bedside table, he gently ruffled your hair - the only part of you poking out from under the covers. "Got work?" he asked.

"Yeah. Closing. Don't start till 7," you answered, emerging into the daylight of the morning… Of the almost-afternoon, you learnt as you checked your phone. "What you got planned?"

"Same thing I've been doing all week, Y/N."

He was back in the kitchenette, folding plastic bags neatly into a pile.

"There's a bag under the sink full of other bags. Don't need to fold them," you told him. He looked up at you; when would you stop over-explaining things, he wondered. "It's like, a thing everyone has. The bag of other bags. And a messy Tupperware cupboard,"

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, a little amused.

"No! I just woke up and it's too bright and you're folding plastic bags. Are you okay?"

Bucky shrugged. He did that a lot, sometimes accompanied by a twitch of a lip curl. Sassy bastard.

"So when you say 'same thing you've been doing all week,' you mean clean and watch T.V.?" you asked, sitting up and plumping a pillow to act as a headboard. Bucky waited until you'd picked up the coffee and were looking back at him before he nodded. "How about we just… hang out,"

"Hang out?"

"Yeah. 'Cause I don't wanna move from here until I absolutely have to. So we can watch stuff on my laptop and stay in bed and Ubereats something fancy." When he failed to reply, you added, "You deserve a chill day."

Bucky crossed the space and dramatically flopped down on the bed. "Just exchanged one bossy boots for another, huh?"

"Really pretty, well-meaning bossy boots, yeah!"

…

Bucky was sitting in the window, patting a black cat you'd never seen in your entire life. He looked over when the front door closed behind you.

"Hey," he greeted, voice soft so not to startle the cat.

"Who's your friend?"

"Dunno… She was just out here when I got out the shower,"

"Right… Well, say goodbye and come inside. Got something for ya."

Bucky left the window open, and the cat remained out on the fire escape.

Inside, Bucky plonked himself on the sofa and watched you unpack things from the large paper bag you'd brought home. Bucky's bright eyes sparkled with curiosity and you could tell he could smell something unfamiliar.

When everything was unpacked, you looked at Bucky.

"This is gonna sound so dumb. I know that. But just bear with me, okay?" Checking to see if Bucky was taking you seriously, you saw his focus was on you entirely. "I… I cannot even begin to comprehend what it must be like being you. It's… It's fucked. It's fucked even in the context of superheroes and aliens and all of it… I don't know how you do it and I know it's hard and I have no idea if you're… Like, okay? Or getting better? Or if being here is helping at all but I wanna help. I want to do something for you but I know I can't do anything like, proper. I can't… I don't know… So I thought maybe I can help in a different way. In a kind of shallow… ah, superficial way? So that's what this is."

Bucky was trying to keep his expression neutral.

Bucky also didn't know how he continued to exist. Sometimes he thought it was because he felt he had to make up for what the Winter Soldier did. Save a life for each taken. Balance the books. Sometimes he thought maybe he was just superhumanly resilient. Maybe he was just more okay than made sense, and that was fine. And sometimes, like in those days he went missing, he thought he had no right being on Earth any more.

"I… I don't know what this is," Bucky started, motioning to the table of unidentifiable objects. "But you're already doin' more than enough. Me being here is helping. You give me space," and at that, you snorted, but he continued, not letting you redirect the conversation like he was so good at doing. "It's the only thing that I know helps. It helped in Wakanda. It's helping here."

In the quiet of three seconds or so, you and Bucky watched each other, testing each other's honesty. You had to trust each other, which was hard. But it was happening.

"Okay," you whispered when you grew too hot under his gaze.

"What's all this then?" Bucky asked, sitting up straight and putting his best version of 'excitement' on his face.

"This is… treat yo' self, self-care. You look after your insides, I'll look after your outsides,"

"My outsides?" he said, tone suggestive and eyebrow raised.

It made you blush.

"Skincare. Haircare. That kind of thing… It's from a store called Lush and I'm a bit obsessed. They invented the bath bomb!"

Bucky set his expression to 'I'm giving you nothing' and crossed his arms across his chest. "Bath bomb?"

"Yeah… They're these… things you put in the bath… It fizzes and makes it smell nice and look cool and is good for your skin and stuff. I didn't get one because we don't have a bath…"

You thought you were losing him, but that's just what he wanted you to think. He was wildly interested in whatever it was you were trying to sell him. He didn't hate the idea of skincare, haircare, and whatever else was going on in those little black pots. He'd looked after himself so well in the 40s. His hair was always perfect. Wasn't caught dead with too much stubble.

"I got like, a full routine for us to do together… If you want…"

Bucky liked the pronouns you were using. …we don't have a bath. …routine for us.

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

It caught you off guard. You hoped it was a rhetorical question. Blushing hard, you broke eye contact and looked at your Lush haul.

"So, you're in?" you asked quietly, pretending to read one of the labels.

"Yeah, doll. I'm in. Where's my fluffy robe?"

Squealing in happiness, you jumped up. "No robes, but pyjamas, yeah?"

Bucky took the bathroom and you took the… bedroom/loungeroom/kitchen/rest of the apartment. Once together, you put on old episodes of Golden Girls and sat Bucky on the couch. He watched as you run about finding all the perfect bowls and towels. When you had the random-under-the-sink bucket filled with hot water, you returned to him.

"Okay. First, we put on hair and face masks. I got this hair one 'cause it kinda smelt like chai latte." You opened the pot and let him smell it.

"Never had a chai latte…" Was his only response. He read the pot, "H'Suan Wen Hua… Chinese,"

"You know Chinese?"

"I know a lot of languages," he replied.

"Hmm… Okay, well, do ya want me to do this or do you want to?" you asked.

Bucky looked genuinely confused. "Do what?"

You hadn't wanted to assume Bucky would be cosmetic-clueless, but maybe it was better to just play spa. Let him sit back and relax and you do it all for him. The thought of that was both terrifying and exciting.

"Sit back. Watch T.V. Lemme do this."

And that's just what he did.

You could literally see him relax into the sofa as you saturated his hair with the treatment, massaging it into his scalp then pinning it all on top of his head in a curl, secured with a clip. If you had been able to see his face, you would've seen him biting his bottom lip, holding in a bigger reaction to the feeling of your fingers raking through his hair.

For the longest time, he'd only known touch to equal pain or death. After that, it was the tentative hands of doctors and Steve's sometimes suffocating arms. But you… you were a whole different kettle of fish. You, he could get used to.

When you jumped onto the couch next to him, it looked like you startled him out of a daze. Bucky seemed happy. It made you happy.

"Alright. Face mask. I got two different ones because the one I like kinda smells fucked but in a good one. Here, smell," you ordered, shoving an open pot of very garlicky Cosmetic Warrior under his nose.

He frowned like a child. "Smells like what Sarah made Steve eat when he was sick,"

"That's cute. But yeah. It's strong. Try this one."

Mask of Magnaminty was more his thing. Mint was a familiar smell. Bucky sat very still as you gently painted his face with the cool green goo.

"You can smile," you whispered as you watched him try to conceal a grin. "Feels nice, huh?"

"It's… different," he agreed.

It was quiet. Bucky watched the concentration on your face as you carefully finished the job. When you tapped his nose, complete with an audible "Boop!" he laughed.

Fuck, his laugh was spectacular. Maybe it seemed golden because it was a rare thing. Maybe because the action made the corner of his sparkly blue eyes crinkle. Maybe just because you liked him. A lot.

"'Kay. I'm just gonna go put mine on," you said motioning to the bathroom, "Then we can-"

"Do you want me to do yours?" Bucky interrupted. And holy fuck, how had you not thought of this as a possibility. Bucky had 1940s manners. Not even Hydra brainwashing could take that away from him. Of course he'd offer reciprocation.

"Ah… Sure. Yes."

He took the pot from your hands and dipped his fingers into the goo. "Stevie's the artist, not me. But I'll do my best," Bucky promised.

"I didn't know that,"

"Think all his best parts didn't make it into the history books," he continued. "Don't think some of them made it to 21st century…"

"If I say something based on knowing you for not long, promise not to get salty at me?"

"Salty a bad thing?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Okay…"

"Maybe it's because like, he went rogue for you or whatever. And we got sold this fairytale best friends since birth story… But I kinda expected you guys to be… Nicer to each other."

To his credit Bucky didn't stop painting your face. He was however, clearly unsettled by the statement. He thought for a second. "Yeah… It's… I don't know…" He shrugged. "We'll be alright. He knows I love him… Just handles things different. And he doesn't like being upset. Needs to fix everything. Fight the fight… I've never been like that. Not really… He was the one that wanted to go to war,"

"You didn't?"

"Nah… conscripted."

That fucked you up a little. Hydra wasn't the beginning of his lack of autonomy. He'd been owned by other people since he was basically a kid.

"It's alright," Bucky said.

"Is it?" You'd asked so quietly for a second you thought maybe no noise had emerged from your mouth. There was a twitch in Bucky's expression that reassured you it had.

He'd finished your face mask, putting the pot on the coffee table and wiping his hands on the same towel you had used. It was smeared with green and grey colours. Bucky's gaze focussed on it while he spoke.

"I don't want to keep fighting… But if I don't, I don't know how I'm meant to make up for what I've done."

Your nose began to tingle, the tell-tale warning sign of crying. Biting your lip and willing yourself to be calm you nodded, mostly to yourself. It would be a lie to say you understood, but you could genuinely see his sad logic.

It took so long for you to say something that Bucky had already picked up the next tissue paper wrapped product in your line of Lush. He was rotating it in his hands, trying to work out what could be inside.

"I.. I don't think you can… But not, not because… You just don't have to because it's not your fault. Like, you're not the… reason it all happened. So it doesn't make sense that you have to make up for it. That's not your responsibility. If anything someone has to make it up to you."

Bucky looked at you, a small smile on his lips. He was grateful that you weren't changing the subject, shying away from a hard conversation. It wasn't like you were saying anything brand new to him. But it was nice to hear you say it. He believed you more than when the others had said it. It was a sentiment they all had to believe, because there was red on all their ledgers. Not yours. You had no stake in the claim.

"If it's not my responsibilities, who gets that? It's on me, Y/N. I'm here. Capable. Gotta do it… Someone can make it up to me when I'm old."

There was finality in the statement. That was that. So, you did what any good bartender would do.

"Okay… Well… How about I pour you a whiskey and you tell me how you don't think 102 is old?"

There was that laugh again.

Two Foot Soak and Fancy Frees and whiskey fireballs later, Bucky was well and truly on his way to joining the Lush cult. He looked ridiculous, sitting there covered in product and trying to drink while not getting face mask on the glass. After picking Yog Nog shower gel over Snow Fairy, he disappeared into the bathroom to wash himself clean.

When you were both showered and back in pyjamas, you showed him how to do the towel-hair-twist things that he claimed only women knew how to do. "That's sexist," you teased. And when he did it first go, you suspected he had known all along.

"All that's left is body lotion,"

"Sleepy," he read, taking the pot from you. Opening it, he considered the scent. "Lavender,"

"You're good at this,"

"Everyone knows the smell of lavender,"

"Whatever," you said with a shrug, reaching out to scoop some of the lotion up.

Bucky watched you for a second, before snapping out of the moment. Probably not the coolest thing to do - watch a girl cover herself in lotion. Unless you wanted him to watch. If you did - he would have complied.

Watching Bucky out the corner of your eye, you tried not to laugh. He could tell.

"What?" he sighed. "What am I doing now?"

"Nothing. It's just… Winter Solider covering himself in lavender scented body lotion… It's a mood."

Bucky frowned, not sure exactly what you meant. He did know you were happy.

…

After the self-care session, you and Bucky had fallen asleep on the sofa. It wasn't like in the movies where bodies overlapped and comfortable sleep was found. Bucky was sat upright, head rolled back into an awkward position that would have almost definitely caused an ache by morning. Even for a super soldier. You were on the opposite end, curled up with your feet pressed into Bucky. A siren somewhere outside woke Bucky around three in the morning. He carried you to bed, tucking you in and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You didn't stir at all.

Each night thereafter you let yourself drift off on the sofa, enjoying the proximity to Bucky and knowing you'd wake up in bed. It was on the cusp of being routine until one particularly stormy night. Wind had been howling for hours, catching somewhere in a drain or gutter just outside the windows. It caused a high pitched whistle that kept pulling you from sleep.

As Bucky laid you in bed, you woke, confused for only a moment.

"Is it like that every time there's a storm?" Bucky whispered through the darkness of the room. You made a grumbling sound, which Bucky correctly interpreted as a yes. "I'll fix it tomorrow,"

"Wait," you grumbled a little more clearly. "Stop sleepin' on th' couch. Come 'ere." You had your hand around Bucky's wrist and were pulling. There was no way you'd be strong enough to actually pull him onto the bed, but there was no way Bucky was going to say no either.

He crawled under the covers with you, trying to decode what it meant that he was in your bed. Meanwhile, you were wide awake trying to work out if he was buying your sleepy mumbling.

Which was worse, the tension of the want to wriggle back into him, let him curl his arms around you and keep you safe, or the anxiety produced by the thought of rejection? At what moment had Bucky turned from customer to friend? From friend to something else? Had those lines ever existed, or did Bucky's unreal history smash any chance of social normalities in his future? Did the carnage leave only constant unknowns and unmapped territory in its wake? Why did he always smell so goddamn good?

…

It was the start of June when Bucky Barnes had walked into a dusty bar seeking solace. It was the start of August when he disappeared into the night, not planning on returning. Alas, Captain America. So, it was almost four months ago he found refuge in the two-room apartment of one bartender. That brought him all the way up to December. Christmas.

"S'not what it used to be," Bucky grumbled from where he was sitting on the sofa, socked feet on the coffee table.

"But you didn't have my eggnog in the 40s," you countered.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and hid a smile with another sip from the mug in his hands. God, he loved your eggnog. He loved a lot of things about you, but he kept that to himself. He said nothing and continued to watch you decorate the small, plastic Christmas tree you'd set up in the corner of the room.

"You're not gonna help?" you asked.

"You're doing fine, darlin'. I'll tell you if you miss a spot,"

"You're a little fuck, you know that?"

"Mmm. Been told once or twice."

You snorted and got back to your tinsel.

Now, you weren't a psychologist and you didn't know shit about the deep trauma Bucky had experienced and still lived with, but you felt he was definitely in some early stage of recovery. The bed you occupied and the sofa bed he did were close enough that you could hear the whimpers of nightmares. Mornings after, you could pretend you hadn't heard. But, when he shared your bed, which he often did, there could be no ignoring the fact that you knew. However, the nightmares had lessened over the past two months. He made more jokes. He checked the windows less. He went over to Stark Tower a lot to keep training. You even suspected he'd made a friend in Sam Wilson.

"Would it be weird if I got Steve a Christmas present?" you asked, standing back from the tree and looking at your masterpiece.

"He'd probably cry,"

"What? Why?"

"Neither of us got much as kids… Everything's special. Don't think he's grown out of that," Bucky explained, trying to sound casual but the admiration for Steve was too thick in his words for that. "What are ya gonna get him?"

"Not telling you. You'll go snitch. You tell him everything," you accuse, spinning on your heels to point a finger. He made a face that said 'yeah, that's valid.' Smiling, you moved to plug the fairy lights into the electrical outlet. "Should we invite him over?"

By the time you'd stood, marvelled at your sparkling beautiful tree, taken a photo of it, then turned back to Bucky, you saw he had his deep-in-thought face on. It was his serious face, reserved for serious things. You put your phone down and sat next to him, nudging your way to curl up under his arm that hooked over the back of the sofa.

"Talk," you said softly.

"This is your house… so you should do what you want…"

"But?"

"I don't know… I… Nothing bad's happened here, you know? Nobody even knows where here is. It's… safe… from everything else," Bucky said, speaking slowly, carefully. There was a vulnerability in his words that made your heart ache.

"Yeah. It is. Okay. That's okay. We can keep it like that… Our little safe space, huh?"

Bucky nodded, then turned to look at you. God, he was so soft. He smiled, turning you into a pool of feelings.

"Thank you," he said, probably not meaning to whisper it.

You just nodded once and looked back at him. How could anyone have ever wanted to hurt him? How could they fucking touch him?

Before you could even work out who moved first, your foreheads were pressed softly to each other's and he'd wrapped you up in his arms. Bucky often smelt like Lush shampoo you'd bought him that he referred to as the "green jellybean" shampoo. And he always smelt like mint toothpaste because he brushed his teeth multiple times a day, citing a lack of access to such good oral hygiene supplies in the 40s as the cause. Under all that was his own scent, that unique humanness everyone has. Bucky's was sweet and warm and it contrasted against the mint much like the coolness of vibranium pressed to skin.

You knew him. You knew he wouldn't go where you'd not invited him.

As softly as you could control yourself, you tilted your head up and kissed your lips to Bucky's. A second. Two. He kissed back. His first kiss since 1945. And for the first time since coming out of Hydra brainwashing in 2014, Bucky Barnes was so fucking happy to be alive.

…

"I've just realised the best reason for this happening here instead of at ours," you said as you climbed the stairs to Steve's apartment. Bucky hummed a response from in front of you. "We don't have to do any dishes,"

"You don't do dishes anyway," he replied, not trying to be funny but simply stating a fact.

"Killin' my Christmas joy, Barnes,"

"Reckon I was the one bringing the joy," he said, reaching out to gently touch the dress you were in.

Bucky banished you to the small bathroom while he wrapped your Christmas gifts the day before, but as you emerged he seemed perplexed. "Feel like maybe you should have this one now," he'd said, then handed it over. The dress was beautiful, probably very expensive and new despite looking quite vintage in style. "Thought maybe you'd wanna wear it to Steve's tomorrow?" Yes. Yes, you fucking did.

When he saw you in it, saw how it fit you and how you glowed, Bucky felt validated and like all his insides were made of goo. Walking up the stairs to Steve's, he felt the same. Maybe worse. Oh, God, maybe like the first time he'd brought home a girl to meet his family. Bucky tried to distract himself from… you, by counting stairs and taking in his surroundings in detail.

Steve's apartment block was very unassuming. Nobody would guess Captain America lived there. Of course, the other residents had seen him around, shock eventually giving way to acceptance. As you arrived at his door, you could smell and hear all the other Christmas Eve parties happening on his floor.

"Door's unlocked!" Steve called from inside at the sound of your knocking.

Pointedly, Bucky locked the door behind him when he came inside, then put the brightly wrapped gifts on the small table beside the coat rack. Steve was far too busy hugging you tightly to notice that though.

"Y/N! You look beautiful!"

"Yeah? Thank you! Guess where this came from," you quizzed, spinning on the spot to make your dress twirl.

"Bucky?" Steve guessed too quickly.

You pouted, annoyed the game was over. Looking over at Bucky you asked, "Did you tell him?"

"He didn't tell me," Steve said. "That's just a very Bucky dress,"

"You're right. He does also look spectacular in it," you agreed, laughing.

The night went on, and it came as no surprise that Steve was an excellent cook. Although he dismissed compliments, citing Wanda Maximoff for recipes, he seemed to almost buzz at how much food you and Bucky consumed. When it was time for presents, you took a bowl of paprika mashed potato with you to the couch.

"Wait… I thought you were moving these to get to our gifts," you said confused, pointing to the pile on the coffee table.

"I like Christmas," Steve replied, shrugging.

Each carefully wrapped box had a sticker tag on it, the handwriting beautiful. Each one with your name on it looked like typed font it was so perfectly replicated. Bucky's, however, all had variations of his name. Bucky. Buck. Buckaroo. Jerk. Punk.

"I wanna go first," Bucky announced, clearly annoying the scene Steve had playing out in his head. "Here," he said, throwing a box at Steve. Obviously, he caught it.

Steve was immediately suspicious of Bucky's enthusiasm. He did his best not to give his best friend the satisfaction he so badly sought. Simply, Steve rolled his eyes when he unwrapped the ridiculous Captain America action figure.

"See, if you press here, he says things!" Bucky explained, reaching over the coffee table to press the button.

The action lit up and a recorded voice proudly announced, "Avengers, assemble!"

Bucky started to cackle. Steve held in a grin, sucking in his bottom lip to bite it between his teeth.

"That's not even your voice," you noted.

Steve pressed the button again. The toy said, "Freedom and justice for all!"

Bucky was absolutely beside himself.

"I… don't think I've ever said that," Steve said, composing himself. "Actually, Buck, before you get too proud, here." Steve handed Bucky a gift. It stopped Bucky in his tracks. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and began to slowly unwrap it. "If I'm a joke, buddy, so are you," Steve said in the best anti-Captain America tone he could.

Bucky held up the teddy bear. The Bucky bear. Unlike Steve and the action figure, Bucky didn't seem embarrassed by the toy.

"Didn't know they still make these," he said slyly. Bucky knew for a fact they did not make them. He'd gone looking out of interest. Unless Steve had found a mint condition, not at all aged bear, which was incredibly unlikely, it meant he had one especially made.

"If you don't want him, I'll have him," you said, reaching out for the teddy with grabby hands. Bucky (the human) smiled as you hugged Bucky (the bear) to your chest.

"That backfired, didn't it?" he grinned across to Steve.

Steve shook his head. "Here, punk. Got you these too."

Steve had bought Bucky three more gifts. One of the past, one of the present, and one of the future. The past was a vintage record player, which momentarily sent Bucky into a hazy daydream. To use in the here and now - a top of the range knife sharpener. The future was the box set of Gadget Man. You wondered if Steve knew how weird Richard Ayoade was.

He wasn't done; Bucky hadn't been kidding about the whole 'had nothing growing up = now overdoes gifting' thing. Steve presented you with what you could only assume was a very expensive fancy decanter, the most beautiful antique brooch, and a book about the women of WWII. "That's the only one Peg had ever approved of," Steve said.

"You remember everything, huh?" you replied. All those months ago, waiting for Bucky to wake, Steve had told you about Peggy Carter and all the other women he'd met in the war. He'd recalled how enraptured you were.

Lucky last was a pair of matching ugg boots for you and Bucky. Buck pulled his on immediately, loving the feeling of his wriggling toes in the softness.

"Okay, so you moonlight as Santa. Cool," you laughed when Steve was finally done.

Steve grinned with pride.

"Our turn. This one is from me," you said, handing two parcels to Steve. "Bucky told me about how you used to draw. Reckon you both need some… non-combat hobbies."

Steve unwrapped the illustrator's pencils and drawing pads. "Y/N, these are beautiful… It's really thoughtful. I'll draw you something,"

"Draw me," Bucky chimed in.

"She's already unlucky enough to see you every day, Buck. Doesn't need your face on her wall," Steve replied casually, nonchalantly.

You adored when Steve and Bucky were soft around each other, to each other, but fuck it was fun when they'd bicker like an old married couple. The swings they took at each other were always held back with love.

"Christ," Bucky laughed. "Anyway, you interrupted me. I wasn't finished. Here," he said, tossing Steve another gift.

A new leather jacket ("…faux leather, Steve, gotta get with it…"), some very specific thing for Steve's bike that you did not understand, and a fondue set. You also did not understand that.

"Apparently…" Bucky started, leaning back on the sofa looking smug as fuck. "…Peggy told Sharon. Funny stories from Aunt Peg's past and all that… Sharon told Sam. Sam told me. So, ah… fondue."

Steve said nothing.

"I don't get it,"

"Why are you like this?" Steve asked Bucky.

…

The mewing sounds of a black cat woke you early on Christmas morning. Bucky sometimes opened the window when he got up, left a little dish of milk out on the fire escape for the stray. It didn't seemed cagey, like it was used to being inside the apartment.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and smiling happily at you and the cat. "Mornin'," he greeted, reaching down to pat the cat's back, just where its tail began. The cat shimmed happily.

"Are you talking to her or me?"

"I mean… Both?"

You shook your head at him while he went about making coffee. The cat followed him, curling around his ankles like she'd been his best friend forever.

"What's her name?"

"Becca."

You nodded, watching the cat. "So, are you gonna come wish me a happy Christmas?" you asked Bucky when he remained focused on the cat, then on pulling bowls and pans from the kitchen cupboards.

"How 'bout you come here and wish me a happy Christmas. Since I'm about to make you special pancakes,"

"Special pancakes?!" you repeated, quickly getting out of bed and slipping your feet into closest pair of ugg boots. Not yours. Bucky snorted as he watched you cross the apartment walking like a little kid in their mother's high heels. When you got to him, he opened his arms and pulled you in close. "What makes them special?"

"If they work, they're gonna be eggnog flavoured… Maybe," he answered, leaving the hug to begin cooking.

After eggnog pancakes and The Grinch, you both pulled out your Christmas gifts.

"Did you actually go into a Lush store?!" you squeaked, quickly taking the lid off the Merry and Bright giftbox.

Bucky sighed. "Yeah… I did… Had to get something without the bath stuff in it," he told you.

The image of Bucky Barnes walking into a Lush store and asking for a giftbox for you was all a little too much. The signature smell of the store was in the air and Bucky looked relieved.

"I love it. It's perfect. Thank you," you said softly, hugging him.

It was his turn. Bucky opened the small box, held up the contents. You'd never seen confusion so perfectly executed in expression before. The pink cat collar looked especially tiny hanging from his finger.

"Notice anything different about Becca?" you asked then.

Bucky immediately started to look around for the cat. She came when he called, and he picked her up. Still confused.

"See that little tattoo in her ear? Means she's yours. Took her to the vet to see if she was microchipped or anything. But she wasn't. She was homeless, and now she's not. She's wormed and flead and registered to us. Turns out she's young too. Just a bit of a big boi, probably all that milk you've been giving her,"

"Y/N... I..." But he didn't know what to say, so he turned to the cat. "Did ya hear that, Bec? You don't have to sneak ya in anymore."

Bucky put her new collar on while you told him that he'd have to take her to her appointment the following week; she needed to be desexed. And, that you had to give her a name at the vet. "I don't know if we can change it now... Didn't want to ruin the surprise, so I just did it. But it's not like it says Bucky on your birth certificate, so…"

"What did you call her?"

"Whiskey,"

"Whiskey… Of course you did. How about I make us some tea then, before you get ready for work? Do a toast to Whiskey?"

…

 "Most places are closed Christmas," Bucky stated like you didn't already know that fact.

"Yeah… But I don't know, we open every year and the regulars come. I don't know where they'd go if we weren't open," you explained, pulling your boots on.

"I'll come with you," he said then, quickly dragging himself off the sofa and looking around for something to wear. No real cleaning had taken place in a couple of days. The Christmas spirit was well and truly alive in the form of loose bits of tinsel and stray gift bows. Clothes were scattered about too, and empty shopping bags. You were surprised Bucky hadn't freaked out about the mess.

"You can if ya want, but you don't have to. Don't feel obligated or anything."

Bucky was dressed and at the door before you'd finished with your laces. His beauty was effortless.

"I don't," he reassured, tying his hair up in a bun.

As you and Bucky turned the corner onto the bar's street, you could see a couple of people leaning against the old building. Out of instinct, Bucky's grip on your hand tightened and he walked a little closer to you. Approaching the bar, you recognised Dave and another regular. "Hey, guys," you greeted them, hugging them before opening the bar and letting everyone in.

Like it was a normal day, the tables filled with people and the jukebox was set to bad 70s and 80s rock and country. You poured out a free round of beer and ordered a couple pizzas for the men that had only your bar to call home.

Once everyone was settled, you wandered back over to Bucky, who was residing in his usual place.

"What's a boy like you doing in a place like this?" you asked, grinning and resting on the bar.

"Oh, you know. Good service. Think I might ask the doll that works 'ere out," he replied, trademark Barnes.

It made you laugh. Bucky leaned across and kissed you gently.

"So what will it be? Whiskey? Oh, fireball! For Christmas?"

Bucky made a face he couldn't hide fast enough. "Don't take this the wrong way, darlin', but… prefer your eggnog,"

"I've made you fireballs before at home?"

He tried to hide a smile. "How 'bout that old bottle. Still floating around?"

The 1940 bottle of whiskey. In the wake of Bucky's abrupt disappearance all those months ago, you'd hidden the bottle behind stacks of till rolls and bags of straws. It did nothing but remind you of Bucky, which in turn caused nothing but heartache. In all honesty, you'd forgotten about it until the moment he'd asked for it.

"Not drinking with me?" he asked when you only poured one glass.

"Buck, you know I love you, but I'm just not drinking that shit ever again."

He watched you for a second, studied your face to see if you were going to take it back or laugh like it was a joke. But you didn't do either of those things. Rather, you just smiled. Gentle but sly. Knowing.

You kinda loved him from the get go.

"Think I've been waitin' eighty years for you," Bucky said, his voice shaky, like the words had slipped from the deep, pure recesses of his mind without filter.

"Merry Christmas, James Buchanan Barnes. Glad you're here," you replied, holding your can of Dr Pepper up to tap against his glass of whisky in a toast.

"Merry Christmas, darling."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Please like, reblog, and comment if you’ve got any feels about this! It took ages to write and was a lot of work. I’d appreciate it a lot. xo Rhi

Tag list: @browngirlmagic @darlingtholland

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #mine #Bucky Barnes needs a hug #Recovering!Bucky