Romance (preferably fluff) O/O (Das ist closeth)

With this card, I summon the almighty Death. The caring reaper of greatness!
Stop exaggerating me
Stop holding yourself down, Death!

As you can tell with the strikethroughs and the title, I want to roleplay some romance with my character Death. I want to see how he reacts in a relationship via roleplaying so I know how'd he would react to love in my book. (Sorry if it makes no sense)

Anyway, my Death looks like a man in his early-ish forties. He is fit (obviously, he rushes around a lot) and wears black clothing underneath his cloak/robe/thingy. His favorite cloak is his red one that has blue flames lining the bottom (not actual flames, just designs). He has to wear a black cloak while being Death and use a scythe. He hates both, but he follows the rules. If he isn't working, chaos will not happen, as he has (How many again, Death? Three hundred Thanks) three hundred reapers freeing souls trapped in their dead body. He has gray hair and a gray-ish black-ish goatee/mustache combo. I'm so bad at this Alright, to the rules!

Rules:
andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s rules
Little cursing please!
I don't want smut, but tongue kissing is okay.
I prefer it to be a guy/guy relationship, so you must be okay with LGBTQ+ relationships.
Post at least once a day! (I myself will try to be on more often that a post a day, but sometimes life is evil.)
If you wish to stop roleplaying with me, that's okay, just tell me first.
Don't godmod or try to powerplay (I.E. take over Death.) NPCs can be controlled by either of us.

(Be my guest. Could you describe your character to me, though? Also, I can't reply anymore tonight, but I will as soon as possible tomorrow.)

(What powers does he have as a witch?)

(Okay. Do you want to do the starter? I’m so bad at starters that it is just barely hilarious lol.)

(Anywhere, really. I mean, the only places Death would be Would be in the castle that That One Guy- SHUT UP DEATH! would be in the castle of reapers (which your character wouldn’t be) and freeing a soul from a dead body after the body died.)

(Either or. Your choice. So, you’re really going through with this? Yup. Gotcha, but why? You’ve been… sad-ish-er more than usual. Sad-ish-er? Shush. Sorry, Death keeps interrupting my posting.)

Death was listening to That One Guy ramble on and on about the benefits of getting a hot tub for the one hundredth time.
“We will finally be able to wash blood off ourselves!” He must be getting pretty desperate, Death thought. We never really get blood on our hands unless the demon or devil claimed their flesh hearts with their souls. Death tapped his fingers on the wooden table. “You know,” he said, “we’re never getting one. Not after you bought this castle behind my back.” He gestured to the whole castle. That One Guy crossed his arms but quickly uncrossed them, seeing sparkles, summoning sparkles, appear behind Death. He pointed at them. “Death, look behind-“ Death felt the magic tug at him, tugging him, him falling, falling.
He landed with an oof onto someone’s living room floor. “The frick?” Death looked up and saw faces. A man with a spell book was in front of him. “What?”

Death rubbed his head, a headache already forming. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He closed the spell book in front of him. He looked around at the one who asked him. “Why did you, did you summon me?” He was a bit peeved at being forcefully summoned this way. “That, that is, if you were the one who summoned me.” The headache was growing in intensity. Death closed his eyes to the brightness. If he had a dime for the amount of times, spirit or not, people goggled at him, he’d be rich. Hopefully, Life knows what happened. For now, though, I’ll have to entertain these… people. Death glared, looking around the room without causing his head to explode with pain. He looked at the spell book again. Hmm… He opened it and rifled through the pages even though he couldn’t read the words on the page (his headache was that bad.) He found a page, the page, containing an artist’s depiction of him. He chuckled, causing his headache to worsen.

“Ugh,” Death said, rubbing his head. This was getting a bit annoying. “Well, ow, I guess this is better than listening to a guy ramble on about getting a hot tub, though I’ll bet he’ll buy it anyway.” He chuckled, then rubbed his head again. This frigging headache. “Maybe you’d should’ve tried summoning him instead.” He tried to stand up, wobbling as the world span. He tried to grab a hold of something, but all that was accomplished was him falling forward. He was caught off guard, landing heavily onto his left shoulder, not breaking it (he physically couldn’t break his bones) but causing searing pain that went up and down his arm like lightning. “Mrph,” Death grunted. He got up again, wobbling in a circle-like pattern. “Whatever frigging spell you used com-compromised my balance,” he said, falling again.

Death collapsed onto the couch. "Thanks," he said, closing his eyes to try and lessen his headache. "Summoning spells don't usually work. I- I understand that. Never- never really had one that work on me before." He rubbed his head. "I've also never had a potion before. Life says that they work okay for her, so they should work okay for me." He rolled and rubbed his sore shoulder, wincing as pain shot up and down his arm. "Funny thing is, though, I'm the only reaper who hasn't been summoned by a witch. At least, not until now." His headache worsened for a few seconds, causing Death to groan in agony, but then lessened up. "Worst headache I've ever had, too."

Death opened his eyes slowly, trying not to make the headache worse. He grabbed the two cups in front of him. "Thanks," he said. He swallowed down the green liquid before promptly choking. The coughing made his headache worse, but the coughing stopped and the headache dulled. He took a sip of the water. "Nastiest thing I've ever tasted," he chuckled. "What is in that potion?" He drank some more of the water. He looked at the human eagerly writing stuff down in a notebook. "what's both of your names and what are you writing?" He rubbed his hands together.

Death smiled. “Funny. Isn’t that what one of the characters say in Dracula? ‘You don’t want to know’? Never mind.” He flattened some imaginary wrinkles on his cloak. “Finn. Willow. I’ve had a reaper way back before both of you were probably born named Finn Willowcreek. Of course she was one person, but she was helpful.” He chuckled. “And, yeah, you can write down what I say, Willow. I’ve… never had my conversations recorded on paper before. Stone, yes, but not paper.” He seemed to be in a better mood than before, probably realizing that they were just curious humans.
Just curious humans. Not the type to seek out reapers and destroy them, murder them, tear them piece by piece, limb by limb. He shuddered, remembering the amount of times he found reapers’ body pieces by dead humans, the amount of times he went to free a dead person’s soul from their body only to see some horrific human tearing the last reaper up. It was impossible for Death himself to die, although many have tried, but it was entirely possible to kill a reaper. It was rare; one had to be in an extreme state of mind to even see a reaper, but it happened. Once every ten days at one time, during the Black Plague, but even the death rates now, one every ten years, it was terrible.

"I understand that you're curious, Willow, but Finn is correct. The potion hasn't kicked in all the way, or, if it did, it's making my thoughts as slipper as fish," Death said. He chuckled. "But to answer your last question, reapers and I are two different entities. I can't expect one entity to do the work of many, so why expect myself to do that? Besides, as Death of this universe, I have more duties that just freeing the souls of the dead." He realized he may of just insulted one or both of them. "Not any imperfect entity, anyway," he said. "Besides, Life herself as many life entities she… erm… she, uh, looks over? What would be a better word than control? Never mind, don't answer that. Like I said, my thoughts are slippery little things right now."

"No, I… don't eat. Sure, I can drink things, but, if you're familiar with the Sims games, the rather false looking me leaves puddles. While… What?" Clearly, Death just heard heard the whisper between Finn to Willow. "I hope there wasn't betting in it," he said, "there are laws against it!" Death took out a loop of string and began to do what he did if he wanted to let That One Guy know that he was getting on Death's nerves but not say it out loud: He started to do string play. (No worries, Death doesn't leave puddles everywhere. He sweats it off actually lol. #AwkwardConverstaion)

Death hating arguments, so he continued to play with string. He was, of course, curious about what date Willow was talking about. Death had always wanted a date; someone to kiss, to rant about your day, to tickle fight with. He may not understand love entirely, but he craved it nonetheless. He made Jacob’s ladder, showing it to himself, then “destroying” the pattern. It reminded him of the rumors about life and what Life told him about life: Ames’s at the beginning, leading to a beautiful pattern that all made sense, but the carefully destroyed. It would be repeated over and over again until the string broke.