written by Emelradine

Humans.

Jokes.

All of them were jokes, and the fact that they had no clue how fucking meaningless their lives were, was probably the funniest joke ever told.

It was supposed to be valentine's day, yeah. The worst day to ever exist for all humankind. February the 14th. The day of love. If only they knew how their silly infatuation with one another made Cupid horny as fuck—I closed my eyes, wiping the image out of my head—not now, Rami, not now. Reap and get your ass back to hell.

Nobody looked my way twice because they all thought my appearance was a costume, just like everyone out today. The town's Mayor had declared valentine's day a costume party for everyone; why? Because this is Westbane, a home to supernatural beings and humans—well—the humans didn't know shit about the supernatural world lurking within, right underneath their noses.

They didn't even care if the whole town was supposed to be drenched in red and white because, you know—valentine. They didn't see that it was Halloween in February; they didn't see me or the mighty scythe I had borrowed from Death because I lost mine during one of the many orgies Cupid had organized to celebrate the upcoming valentine's season, which I had received a befitting punishment for, by the way.

My black cloak made it seem as if a dark mist followed me everywhere I went, and I knew my face was a dark void underneath the hood of the cloak. The humans probably thought it was an effect too.

At that thought, I heard the squeal of a little boy just a few feet away from me; his mother was busy buying food at one of the many food trucks in the street.

"Mom, mom! Look! I want that costume!" he tugged at his mom's red cape. But the woman was busy flirting with the guy inside the food truck to notice me.

I made my face visible and bared my teeth at the little boy, allowing half of my true form to come to the surface with a terrifying snarl, one that made the boy scream at the top of his lungs.

Before his mother could turn to see what made her son scream, I misted myself out of there until I was in front of the bar, where I felt the presence of the soul I wanted to reap.

The accident was supposed to happen in thirty minutes.

I contemplated standing outside and waiting for him to come out, but seeing couples holding hands, looking at each other with stars in their eyes, all dressed up in their little costumes and shit, made me sick, and, fuck—I needed a drink—a strong one.

I walked into the bar, scythe in hand, and removed the hood of the cloak, letting my face show.

The bar wasn't huge. It looked like a family establishment, probably because here in Westbane, everything was about family, neighbors, kindness, and—love.

My skin was fucking crawling with just being in this town again. It had been decades since I was last here. And I begged Death, I begged that son of a fucking bitch to allow another reaper handle this one—but he knew my baggage with Westbane, and this was all part of his punishment.

I headed straight for the bar and sat on one of the bar stools, resting my scythe on the counter.

The bartender was dressed as cupid, and I almost threw up because Cupid was disgusting. I still couldn't remember the full details of the orgy where I lost my scythe, but the few flashes that attacked me from time to time were enough to know how fucked up I had been—how vulnerable.

I let out a breath, closed my eyes, and counted to three before pulling them back open.

"What can I get you, Death?" the bartender asked, his smile like that of a Cheshire cat.

"I'm not Death."

"Ouu, what are you supposed to be then?"

"A reaper. A depressed one. Who needs a drink? Something strong."

The guy grinned. "Something strong for a depressed reaper coming right up." He said before going to do his job.

"Riding solo?" a slurred voice said from beside me.

Rule number one of reaping: do not engage in any form of conversation with the soul you want to reap.

But I turned my head in his direction, taking him in:

Casey Wire. 5'7, ginger hair that was a crazy curly mop on his head; dark—almost-brown ginger brows, light freckles dusting his nose and both of his cheeks, 24 years old, worked at a bookstore in town, blue eyes that now looked too dull I almost pitied him—overall, a guy who was about to die in a few minutes.

I blinked at him, realizing I had stared too long to be normal. He was one of those pretty humans. What a waste.

I ignored his question, looking away just as the bartender placed my drink in front of me.

"There you go, Reaper." He said with one of those Westbane kind smiles before he was off to answer other customers.

"What?" came the innocent and drunk voice of Casey. "You don't talk to strangers you meet in bars? Or is it because I look like I've been crying my eyes out all day, and you think I'd offload all of my shit on you just because you're a stranger, and I'd probably never see you again."

I brought the glass to my nose and inhaled before taking a gulp, allowing the strong and tangy taste of the drink to warm up my cold tongue.

Casey scoffed, looking away and shaking his head.

I saw him wipe his cheek from my peripheral vision, but it was a failed attempt because his tears were still pouring out.

"I look like a joke." Casey voiced out suddenly, and I couldn't help but take in his appearance. He was dressed like a doctor, with a fake stethoscope around his neck and what were supposed to be blood stains on his lab coat. "I dressed up for him, we had been planning this day since last year, and I got us our costumes on the first of January. But he broke up with me today—I mean, who does that? That too on valentine's day, in front of everyone, my friends, my family. I am such a joke."

"You are." I let out before I could bite back my response.

His head whipped so fast in my direction, eyes wide. "Really? You think that?"

Shut up, Ramiel just shut the— "I don't know you enough to think anything, but you humans are a joke. It's a fact." I responded, my gaze locking with his wide, surprised one as he sniffed.

"Wow." He said, wiping his tears with his knuckles. "You're beautiful."

I paused, caught off guard by the compliment, before looking away.

"I'm Casey. A doctor, apparently."

I took another gulp of my drink, dropping the glass on the table and willing myself to keep quiet.

"And um—what are you supposed to be?"

I sighed. "A reaper."

"Oh—like Death?"

"No—there are thousands of reapers, and Death is like our boss and shit, and he answers to Lucifer, who is one of my uncles—but no one ever talks about that because I'm a low-ranking demon, and I was only made a reaper because I'm royalty. All my brothers are elders in hell—and I am just one of the fuck ups." I finished, only to be met with silence from Casey.

So, I looked at him to discern his reaction to what I had just said. He would die soon anyway; there was no point hiding anything.

"Wow—that—that sounds like a lot of baggage. Your therapist must be doing a good job because my therapist always says that using parables sometimes can be the best way to really express and face our demons up front, especially when it comes to family. And my therapist is like the best, so I trust you're also in good hands. Life can suck."

I blinked. "What?"

He looked confused now. "I mean—you—you just talked about demons, and lucifer and the angel of death—didn't you mean like your brothers, dad, and mom?"

"No."

His brows shot up. "Oh—right—so, like, what did mean, exactly?"

"Exactly what I said. I'm a reaper."

Casey nodded very slowly, the confusion in his eyes swiftly shifting to wary. "You really go deep into character, huh? What's your name?"

"Ramiel. Everyone calls me Rami."

He frowned this time. "That's your name? Like—your real name?"

"Yes, Casey," I answered, signaling the bartender to pour me another drink.

"That's a weird name, but it's pretty hot. Sounds like a Hebrew name."

"It is. My parents named me that as a joke. They wanted to piss off some angels. It's probably why half of the angels in heaven hate me. But yeah—you learn to live with that kind of thing."

My drink was refilled, and I took another gulp as Casey took three gulps of whatever was in the bottle he held.

No wonder he had the most iconic death. Getting smashed to pieces by a bus.

It was a waste because a broken heart wasn't reason enough to drink this much. It wasn't worth dying for.

Casey dropped the bottle before sighing and looking straight ahead to nothing.

"Ramiel," he called my name, and I froze. It sounded so beautiful coming out of his mouth, and I couldn't deny how I felt the blood rush up to my cheeks due to the hurried pace my heart had taken.

I cleared my throat, wondering why I felt this way. "Yeah?"

"Have you ever been brokenhearted?"

I didn't even need to think about my response. I'd fallen in love once and had been left broken once too. "Yup."

"How did you get through it?"

My index finger traced the rim of the glass in slow circles. "You don't get over things like that. It just gets numb. It took me one hundred and fifty years to reach that state. Now it's just—numb."

He didn't even bother to look shocked by my response; he just sighed. "I loved him. Charles was the best thing that ever happened to me, and now—that best thing is just—nothing."

I knew exactly what it felt like. It was precisely why I hated this town. "Sucks," I muttered.

"Yeah—but you know, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone, pronto."

"That never works—"

"Would you like a hand job?"

I wouldn't lie and say it didn't surprise me. "Uh—"

"Or you just don't do men."

"I do everything; I'm a demo—"

"Great." He got up quickly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away.

"Wait—my scythe!" but he was already pushing through a door and then another until my back was slammed into one of the doors.

I noticed we were inside some storage room, but I couldn't comprehend anything because he was moving too fast. His hand tried to undo my fly while his lips brushed my neck.

I felt the sensation travel all the way from my neck straight down to my groin, and I felt my cock harden.

"Take off your cloak; it's blocking my way."

"That's because it's protecting me from your attack; slow down." I breathe out.

"What?"

"The cloak is magical, made by one of the—"

"Jesus, Ramiel, I don't want to listen to any more of your crazy talk. You're not fucking doctor strange. It's a costume."

I frowned. "Don't insult her; feel the material; it's alive," I said, soothing my cloak with one hand.

"Fine! Sorry cloak thing, can you let me give your master a hand job?"

I felt my lips kick up at the side, stepping away from the door towards Casey, whose eyes were filled with innocent lust and pain. I cupped the side of his face, caressed his cheek, and brought my lips down to his.

His lips were as soft as they looked, full, smooth, and tender against mine, and it got straight into my head and my heart because, yes—I'm an idiot who never learns, and yes, I'm kissing another human, and it felt so fucking warm and sweet.

He tasted like the drink he had been taking. Strong and intoxicating.

When he opened his mouth for me, I slid my tongue inside, taking in more of that toxic goodness, kissing his breath away. He gave a whimpering moan at the back of his throat, and I pressed deeper into the kiss, letting it warm my heart and touch every dead demonic organ in my body.

My hand brushed down his side before falling to his fly and the front of his jeans to feel that he was already hard for m—this—too.

His hand mirrored what mine was doing, and my whole body tingled with arousal as we rubbed each other through the fabric separating us.

His lips became more urgent and sloppier as he pushed me back to the door and managed to undo my fly the moment I undid his.

I was in haste now, too, my arousal was blinding me from common sense, and my mind was telling me to go on instead of the opposite.

I moaned when he successfully brought out my hard length, wrapping his hand around me, and I did the same for him. he was hard and breathing heavily. His lips left mine, and I watched with hooded eyes as his teeth pressed down on his bottom lip, watching me stroke him.

"Fuck." he breathed out.

A groan left my throat when his fingers came to brush against the head of my cock, and I couldn't fucking breathe.

His chest was pressed against mine, and my lips traced kisses down his neck as we stroked each other, using our pre-cum as the lubrication.

"Fuck—this feels so good." Casey moaned out.

"I'm in so much trouble."

"I like trouble."

I couldn't help my smirk as my strokes became faster, and he took the initiative to be fast too.

We kissed and stroked each other until our movement became sloppy, and we came simultaneously; it was jerky, messy, and weird. I liked it.

We were breathing heavily, still pressed to each other, stroking lazily and enjoying our warmth, before the vibration of one of those devices stopped us.

Reality came rushing in like ice water.

He pushed back, detached himself from me without meeting my gaze, and rushed to clean himself up. I did the same, too, allowing the awkwardness to settle in.

After arranging myself, I looked over at him to see that he had already set himself and was reaching for his phone. "Shit—my sister. They must be worried." He closed his eyes, shaking his head before summoning the courage to look at me again. "Uh—I gotta—go? I'm sorry—I don't do this—I don't even know what came over me and um—you're adorable, but I'm still interested and very much in love with my ex-boyfriend?"

I swallowed, nodding. "Sure."

"Good, because this is very awkward, and I would love to remove myself from," his head moved tiredly around us. "—this space."

"Yeah, sure."

"Great, if you'll, um—you're blocking the door."

"Oh." I moved aside, and he bolted out of the room, leaving me all dazed and somewhat—hurt. Yes, I was hurt. Something about me was broken, and it made me very vulnerable and prone to making mistakes. No reaper or demon should have the kind of heart currently sitting heavily in my chest.

I shouldn't like someone that I was supposed to reap—

I paused, a light bulb turning on in my head. "Oh shit!" I dashed out after him, rushing back in the directions we had come through. I saw the back of his lab coat already leaving the bar. "Casey, wait!" he was gone in a flash. "Fuck." I was about to rush after him when I halted, my head turning to the bar table where I had left Death's scythe.

It wasn't there.

"Oh no, no, no, no." I rushed to the bar. "Hey," I called the attention of the bartender.

"Another drink?"

"No, did you see anyone taking my scythe? I left it here a while ago."

He frowned. "Sorry, busy night. Someone must have nicked it. Go to the sheriff's station; they'll help you find it."

"Fuck!" I yelled, already turning and rushing out of the bar, the cold air whipping into my cloak, as I spotted Casey stumbling his way to the road, focusing solely on his phone.

It wasn't long before I saw the bright headlights from the truck that was supposed to take him out.

"Casey!" I yelled, making him stop; just where he was supposed to be crushed to pieces, he turned, his brows drawing down in drunk confusion to look at me.

Just leave it—leave it, Rami—I misted from my position to where he stood, wrapped my arms around him, and misted us out just the moment the truck flew by.

My breathing was harsh as I let go of him, and my heart was wild against my chest as I stood in shock at what I'd just done.

Casey was green on the face as he opened his mouth to speak. "What the—blurrrgh." He threw up halfway through—on me—I could feel the warm liquid soaking into my skin.

I closed my eyes and swallowed back my gag.

He stepped back, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he hiccupped, staring wide-eyed at me. "Sorry." He squeaked from beneath his palm.

I closed my eyes and counted to three before pulling them back open.

Casey watched me cautiously, with fear in his eyes, as he released his hand from his mouth. "I—Did you—" his voice shook. "Did you just teleport?"

"Something like that. It's the cloak. Some powerful witches made it. They're very loyal to Death."

His eyes teared up. "Oh fuck—oh shit!"

"What," I stated.

"You—you aren't crazy. You—you were being serious this whole time?"

I moved away from the puddle of vomit in front of me, looking around to see if I would sense Death's scythe anywhere. It wasn't around here.

"You really are a reaper?"

"Yes, Casey, a very stupid one at that because I just lost the mighty scythe, and Death is going to fucking have my head if I don't return to hell with it. I am so fucking screwed." My fingers ran through my hair.

"You—you came here to—to reap a soul?"

I blinked. "Yes. I came here to reap your soul. That truck was supposed to ground you to mush, and I was supposed to collect your soul to hell because you've led a not so holy life, Casey Harvey Wire."

"But you—but you just gave me a—a hand job." He still looked confused.

I groaned out in frustration. "Yes! Which I wasn't supposed to fucking do—I just saved your life—I'm not supposed to do that! I'm not supposed to tamper with your life plate—oh my fuck I am going to die for this."

"I think I'm gonna throw up again." Casey held his stomach.

"I think I gotta go."

"Wait—where?"

"The Bane woods. I would need the help of witches to get a locator spell on the scythe, and then I have to report myself to be executed."

Horror flashed through his eyes. "Wait, what? Hold on—no one is allowed to go into the Bane woods; there are wild animals in there—"

"You mean supernaturals."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Those rules apply only to humans. You lots can't handle the things that go bump in the night. It was good meeting you, Casey. Try not to get yourself killed. I'd hate to reap your soul."

"Wait, Rami—"

His voice faded as I misted myself away from the bar front to the Bane Woods.

Standing in front of the witch's faction, I couldn't help but replay how this evening started and ended. I laughed sadly to myself.

"I am such a fucking joke," I muttered, proceeding into the den of witches to find Death's scythe. 

<<<<<FINIS>>>>>

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Hi! I'm Rebecca, a multi genre writer, and a sing/songwriter. What you'll find in my stories are, healthy dose of humor, relatable characters, and drama that'll keep you at the edge of your seats!