content: gender neutral reader, mild NSFW at the end, lewding the Grim Reaper
You'd been feeling off the whole day; nausea, headaches, a foreign tremor in your hands, and now you finally understood why. It was your time to go.
You were greeted by a mysterious, yet familiar creature, dressed in black and carrying a worn-out scythe against its bony back. A pair of eyes glistened from underneath the hood, burning holes into your very soul. This was no mistake – you were standing before Death itself. Its faint scent of moss and decay called out to you, lulling you to an eternal slumber.
“Are you (Y/N)?” it asked, its voice drumming against your ears with authority.
“Yes. I’m ready,” you muttered, briefly closing your eyes and reminiscing old days.
“The room, you mean?”
It stared at you expectantly.
“Room? Do I need to die in a special chamber?” You wondered about the bureaucratical details of the process.
“What? Oh, no,” it quickly waved its hand apologetically, “I’m off-duty. You’ll have to ask someone else. I’m here to check in.”
The centaur manager scrambled to your side, giving you a pat on the back while holding back a chuckle.
“He’s today’s guest, (Y/N). Why don’t you take him to his room?” he glanced up at the tired customer. “Sorry, humans are a little superstitious about...you know...”
“Yes, yes, I’m well aware,” he responded casually, then proceeded to walk ahead, inviting you to follow him.
You’ve found yourself in the rather ridiculous scenario of assisting Death on his well-deserved holiday retreat. He’d specifically requested you, as humans made him quite nostalgic. Earth was a quirky place, he’d told you once by the poolside.
“Do you also take care of monsters,” you inquired shyly, handing him another cocktail.
“Of course,” he nodded and took the glass, eyeing the liquid with satisfaction. “But humans are special in their own way, you know? So fragile, so temporary.”
Were humans especially short-lived compared to other beings? Well, not entirely. Some monsters had similar lifespans, others roamed the world for incomprehensible lengths of time. Your esteemed Guest revealed, for example, that him and Toby were on friendly terms. They’d crossed paths every couple of centuries and occasionally had tea together, though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact date they met for the first time. Must’ve been eons ago, before some civilizations even existed.
You listened intently to the Reaper’s stories and gossip, rushing behind with shameless interest.
“That’s Cursed Child over there,” you remarked, too comfortable to lift your head further from the swimming float. You had joined the ghoul into the refreshingly cool water.
“Wretched one,” he responded with a shudder. “Sent many souls my way, I’ve lost count.”
“Truly? She’s a nice kid, I reckon.”
“No doubt she likes you. Others aren’t as lucky.”
He took a moment to inspect you.
“You’re an easy one to like, eh?”
He pondered why all the monsters here seemed to be so infatuated with a mere human employee. The curiosity was too much to bear, so he gallantly asked you to join him in his room later that evening.
The next day, you carefully put on the uniform and took a final glance at the occupied bed, still in disbelief that you’d just gotten shagged by Death itself. Was that something you could brag about? Probably not, given the jealousy most staff and guests seem to display when it comes to you.
“Should I bring you some coffee,” you probed hesitantly. The monstrous creature laid still and breathless.
“Black,” he croaked from underneath the hood.
As you closed the door behind you, he placed his bony arms under his head. He could definitely see the appeal.