(Harpy reader! x V) + (GN READER)
•|→ HEADCANONS & DRABBLE SCENARIO
•|→ ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP
{REQUEST} & not proofread
You can fly everywhere, but can you find what you're looking for?
Wings are the foundation of embracing the air and spirits—but how can you fly without a purpose?
How can the sky be worthy If you can't find someone who can lift you up without expecting to be carried in return?
Those questions throb beneath your wings, it is heavier than lifting your body into the sky.
When you first spoke in the server and dms, your mention of wings was something he cataloged as mere text on a screen—a creative online persona.
The moment he met you in person, his composed facade is completely fractured. Seeing them up close left him utterly stunned.
The first time he reached out to touch them, he did so with a tenderness so thorough, it felt as though he were handling a fragile, foreign part he never expected to hold or witness.
You once tried to lift him off the ground, wanting to share the thrilling rush of the open air through your spirit with him. But your strength couldn't handle his heavy weight, and his height towered far beyond where your head could reach.
You manage a clumsy, brief hover before dropping back down, but he offered no complaint. Instead, he simply watched you take flight on your own, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, mesmerizing joy at seeing you entirely free.
Your hearts synced the moment your lips met his in the quiet dark. Your large wings unfurled and arched forward instinctively, draping over the both of you like a heavy, feathered canopy.
The gesture protected you both entirely from the surrounding world, trapping his breath against yours, turning the kiss into a secret that only the two of you would ever know.
Your wings are your freedom, an extension of your own iron will that carries you into the sky. Yet, they are also an immense physical burden to carry on your spine when your body is completely drained.
Letting V slide his fingers beneath your feathers is an act of trust you give without hesitation—it is like sharing the pride you hold in your wings.
Because he spends so much time meticulously tending to his delicate flora, V treats your wings with the exact same reverent care. He uses smooth, steady motions to wipe away the grime of the city, separating and adjusting every tangled fiber with his long, meticulous fingers.
When the two of you finally collapse into his upper loft bed, you have a habit of draping one massive wing completely across his chest. V always freezes for a split second, his breath hitching as he finds himself firmly anchored beneath the heavy, soft cage of your feathers, before he slowly relaxes under your glowing warmth.
Tiny, downy feathers always end up scattered across his dark floorboards and stubbornly stuck to the fabric of his clothes. For a man who thrives on absolute order and structure, he never brushes them away with irritation.
He sweeps them gently, viewing those stray feathers as quiet, beautiful reminders that you chose his concrete bunker to be your nest—that you trusted him entirely with your proudest possession.
The bunker is dead quiet, the air thick and warm with the comforting scent of damp soil and vibrant green leaves trailing from the hanging pots overhead.
You sit tightly on the rug by the wooden table, your shoulder blades aching with a deep, throbbing soreness. Your left wing is bent at a sharp, awkward angle as you strain your arm backward in frustration, trying and failing to reach a messy cluster of ruffled feathers right near your spine. After another failed attempt, a small, frustrated sigh escapes your lips.
A measured step clicks softly against the floorboards. V steps down from the upper platform, setting his misting tools aside on the counter. His dark green eyes are sharp, fixed entirely on the tired, heavy droop of your feathers.
"Your rest has been less than consistent… I’ve noticed," V says, his voice a low, steady rumble that instantly cuts through your mounting frustration. He steps into your space, his posture elegant and deliberate. "Please, do not strain yourself. Allow me."
He settles himself on the floor directly behind you. His large hands are surprisingly warm as they cup the solid, muscular part of your wing joint, holding you firmly but gently in place so you stop reaching.
He doesn't rush the process. Producing a soft cloth, he begins to wipe away the dust from your feathers, his long, scarred fingers smoothing down the barbs with a quiet, careful reverence.
A soft, involuntary trill vibrates deep in your throat at the sheer, overwhelming relief of his touch.
"Hearing your voice right now... is deeply gratifying, my love." V murmurs, his breath brushing warm against the bare skin of your neck.
He moves with quiet awe, like a man handling a priceless treasure, ensuring every single feather lies perfectly flat against your back. "You are the only place I find myself returning to. Relax your mind. I will make sure you are looked after."
You let your guards drop, leaning back against his broad chest and letting the immense, heavy weight of your wings relax completely into his lap, safe and protected under his steady hands.
(V's vocabulary and speech style were interesting, but it was a bit challenging for me to comprehend...)
(the main struggle here was the vocabulary itself. Overall, I learned a lot of new words! <33)
