#Singular point was trash

[searsage]

Watching the Godzilla marathon so poll!

Of controversial Kaiju opinions!

[transfemlogan]

Not a single 1 of u understood this post. Holds my head in my hands

[neptxn3]

Astrology Notes III

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪₊‧°

Disclaimer, these are observations I have made through personal experience and thorough research, observations also vary depending on other natal placements involved

doesn’t resonate ≠ untrue 

♅ Pluto in the 10th house has a tendency to come across as very overbearing in the workplace. This is having a routinely structure you want to have done precisely every day, so this makes you ask your coworker if they want you to do the coffee run for a meeting, staying past closing time to make sure everything is in place, doing 10x as much work as your coworkers because you like things in a certain order.

it also causes coworkers to think of you as someone who’s willing to step over them in order to appear as this solid leader who is better than them ( and often times this does manifest in the native) but mostly it is subconscious.

It honestly reminds of the devil wears Prada where Andrea gets so good at guessing what Miranda’s expectations are that she goes over the top in order to please her and it gets to the point she manages to snag the trip to Paris that has always been given to Emily in the singular year she’s worked at the magazine. Andrea being Pluto person who unknowingly becomes the ‘better’ assistant.

♅ There’s a natural discomfort when one has the Moon placed in the first house, especially if placed in signs like Aquarius or Capricorn due to the fact that their emotions are put on display which is a forced vulnerability. 

I actually find fire placements (not typically Sagittarius) who actually find enjoyment in their faces being easily read? One because fire placements are less inclined to hide their feelings, and two because they can be a bit impatient to get their point across 

♅ Virgo placements are kinda funny in the sense that they’re not necessarily clean freaks, they won’t go out of their way to clean someone’s room because it’s dirty, but they are obviously very precise with their own mess, they don’t like being messy themselves you know? It’s not seen as a second nature to clean but rather an obligation for them because they need clean spaces in order to be productive with an active Mercury influence. 

I actually find it very common for Virgo placements to have an “organized mess” too. They know where they left their green paperclip in their messy rooms (it’s under the left desk leg). 

♅ Taurus placements , fixed signs in general, but especially Taurus placements grow up with a specific set of beliefs and morals that they follow through and through. It’s because of their fixed nature that they will refuse to change, in fact Taurus placements consider their perspective to be so correct, if afflicted, Taurus placements can be the hardest to evolve in your chart. 

♅ cancer risings tend to attract very dangerous men/women due to Scorpio being in their 5th house, this is actually why cancers fall under the sweet damsel in distress who dates the big bad boys in romantic tropes a lot lol but yes they actively seek people who have a dark reputation or damaged past as lovers

♅ People with Mars in the 12th house are often accused of being unmotivated and lazy by people in their life but it actually stems from the fact that mars is uncomfortable being in a house that’s connected to the unconscious mind while craving the open expression of anger and ambition mars naturally is. I actually find they overthink their actions. You can remind a person with mars in the 12th house to take out the trash before bed because the garbage collectors come tomorrow and they will spend the whole day cleaning the house, drain their energy and say “I’ll just wake up early and do it tomorrow” but they never do 😭 They confuse themselves!! 

it’s also interesting to note a person with a 12th house prominence that includes mars will be defensive about their said actions. “Take out the trash” “I was already planning on doing it but now I don’t want to”. I include 12th house prominence because a mars in the 12th also has stealthy actions and thoughts 🤫

♅ People with their 4th house ruler in the 7th house will have emotional withdrawals if their routine does not involve socializing with others. You’ll typically see this in people who choose to search for roommates during college, move in with close friends to “save on rent” or choose to never move out of their parents home ( I support this in this economy lol)

you’ll also see this in people who are serial daters, not to say that their relationships don’t impact them greatly, but they feel a requirement to express their feelings with others. 

Could make great therapists too actually

♅ Mercury square saturn people need precise instructions whenever they do something. Mercury can be very sporadic in square aspects because their communication is being misconstrued the same way a radios antennae need to be arranged in a certain way  in order to get signal. With Saturn representing structure, they prefer very detailed instructions on pretty much anything. You need them to get a wrench? It’s on the left? Top, middle, or bottom? And what color is it? Is it in the back or front of the cabinet? 

Also, Mercury square Saturn people, we’re you the kids who’s dad yelled at them for holding the flashlight the wrong way when fixing something? 

♅ I find it very funny when Aquarius placements are dubbed the people who change the world with their innovative ideas because you will connect that to them actively trying to improve society but it’s actually because they just want life to be easier to navigate for themselves. They’re the type to invent flying cars, not for the next Industrial Revolution that will forever change man once again, but because they want a cheaper way to save on overseas travel 😭. Don’t get the wrong idea, a lot of them realize their potential and eventually use their ideas for good, but it usually starts off as very personal and self serving. 

[tulip-room]

♡˚It's You! ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"When we wrote these, I didn't think it would be you."

words. 1.5k

It had started out as an idea for all of you to do. Something you had seen on Pinterest and were interested enough to bring the idea up to your friends. You had excitedly turned your phone around and to the surprise of no one, Gojo was the first to agree to the idea. “So? What do we say?” You ask with a smile creeping onto your face. 

“Yes,” Gojo answered excitedly. “I have some paper in here somewhere,” he started going through his bag to find a long forgotten notebook. He let out an ‘aha’ when he found it and threw it down onto the table. “Alright, everyone get a piece of paper.” 

“So, what exactly are we supposed to write?” Shoko asked as she tore out paper, her edges jagged. Geto followed suit and got his own piece of paper. You and Gojo took longer, making sure that the paper was perfectly torn with no stray edges.

“You know.” You pull out glitter pens and stickers. “Things for your future partner, like what you’re currently like and how you hope they are or something. Cheesy stuff, if you want. Anything you would want to say to your future partner.” You smile and start carefully writing your letter. “Mine for instance, I’m going to put all the things I want out of a relationship. At least you know right now. Things I want to experience but wouldn’t outright ask for face to face.” They nod and sit in front of their blank pieces of paper. 

Gojo is the only other person who immediately gets to writing. He won’t let anyone see what his says, let alone what he could be writing in there. For someone who likes to share so much, he’s oddly silent about this. A calm smile on his face as he fills the page with surprising speed. “Why are you so quiet hmm?” Your shoulder bumps his as you tease him. 

“Why are you so curious? Hoping it’s you I’m writing for?” He teases back with his usual smirk on his face. You shake your head at him and push him again. 

Shoko is the first of the group to finish her letter, it’s simple and short. She didn’t spend very long thinking about it, more going along with it because she wanted to see you guys happy than because she wanted to do it. Geto is the next to finish, his letter is longer than her’s. It takes about half the page and is complete with a singular heart by his signature. You finish your’s after him. Your letter fills up the entire front of the page and has many hearts and other doodles littering the margins. Gojo is the last to finish his. His is so long that it not only filled the first paper front to back but also took half of another page. There’s many characteristic doodles, hearts, squiggles, swirls, even a cat or two.

“Wow, never would have thought you would be the sap of the group Satoru.” Geto teases him as he watches Gojo carefully fold the pieces of paper. 

“I’m just picky. I am the strongest after all. Got to make sure my partner knows what I expect.”

“That sounds slightly toxic.” Shoko replies as she rests her head in her hand. 

“Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He rolls his eyes and puts his notebook back in his bag to once again be unused. “I just have standards, that's all.” 

“Whatever you say.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you fold up your own note. 

You don’t think of the letters again until many years later. Shoko’s letter wound up in the trash a week after she had written it. Geto’s had lasted longer…till around the time he left. You and Gojo were the only two who still had your letters by the time you were adults. 

Shoko had dragged you out for a night of drinking and fun when the letters were brought up again. Both of you a few shots deep and slightly more than buzzed. “So, you give that letter to Gojo?” You give her a confused look. Letter? “You know, the ones you had us write. To our future partners.” Oh.

“I forgot about those!” You say excitedly as your hands go up to cover your mouth. “I have no clue where it is at this point.”

“It would be funny to find it and give it to him. See if he lived up to your standards.” She smiles and pushes another shot towards you.

“It would be pretty funny huh? I have always been curious as to what he was writing back then. I mean he almost took two pages. I’ll let you know if I measured up to his standards.” You joke and bump your hip against hers. 

When you arrive home Shoko waves you off at the door, your heels dangling in your hand as you unlock the door. “Baby!” You hear excitedly as you open the door. There he is. Your boyfriend, er- fiance now. Your fiance, sometimes it feels surreal. You look down and a smile grows on your face as you see the glittering gem of the ring on your finger. 

“Hi Dove, did you have a fun night?” You set your shoes down and he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his face in your hair. Your smile and wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Oh, it was so horribly boring.” He groans and kisses your hair. “I did paperwork, and had so many meetings, it was so bad when I got home and you weren’t here to hug me and kiss me and make it all better.” You let out a small laugh and it makes a smile grow on his face. That’s his favorite sound in the whole world, your laughter, he could listen to it until the tape starts to skip from repeating too much. “Did you and Shoko have fun?”

“Yeah, she actually reminded me of something.”

“Oh? Anything fun?” 

“Mhm, you remember those letters I had us write in high school?”

“Oh!” He pops up and unwraps from you to go to your bedroom. You tentatively follow him down the hall with a smile. You watch as he shuffles through a box in your closet before he smiles and comes back with notebook pages. “Here, I almost forgot about them.” You smile and take the paper from his hands.

“When we wrote these, I didn’t think it would be you.” You unfold the paper as you admit and you almost drop them right there.

“I did,” he says shyly as you read the first line. It’s your name. He wrote this letter for you. “I really was holding out that you would like me one day…Is that sad?”

“I think it’s sweet.” You kiss his cheek and he smiles as you read through the letter. “You were really down bad huh?” You read some lines outloud to him as you go through the letter. “You wanted us to write to our future partners and for as cheesy as it sounds I could only picture a life with you in it.” His cheeks flush red as you read the lines he wrote. “If there was anyone I would want to be my soulmate it would be you, you make me feel like there’s more to life than fighting. That I’m more than just what I was born for. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my partner.” He refuses to make eye contact with you, you can see where the corners of the page are worn like someone has read it multiple times.

“I love you and I hope some day in the future that you love me too.” He says with you and you look up from the paper. 

“Oh, my dove.” You set the papers down on the dresser and bring your hands up to cup his face. “You’re so sweet, I love you too. So much more than you could ever know.” You kiss under his eyes as you pull his face towards you. 

“That’s really cheesy, like geez what was that guy on?” He tries to joke and tease.

“Hush, I think it’s sweet. It made me fall even more in love with you.” He smiles as you place a soft kiss to his lips. “If that was a letter that I might never have heard, I’m excited to hear what your vows are gonna sound like.” He groans and pulls you into another kiss.

“It’s going to be so weird to say all that cheesy stuff in front of all of our friends.”

“Don’t want them to know that you’re down bad for me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. We both know that’s not true. It’s just. It’s going to be weird because they’re my thoughts about you. All the things I want and love about you and you’re the only person I really care about hearing them.”

“And I can’t wait to hear them.” You pull him into another kiss as the two of you smile.

Yeah. You guys were going to be okay. It was going to be okay as long as you have each other.

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[cultofdixon]

Day One to the Rest of our Lives

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Part 1 • Before The Outbreak - The Farm • The nurse next door always had a soft spot for the Dixons as they were her family. It took the end of the world and an almost near death experience to get the youngest Dixon to make a move • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Scars / Injuries / Blood Loss / Emergency Surgery / Abuse / Drug & Alcohol Consumption / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

NEXT

Before The Outbreak

“Merle you’re a fucking dumbass” Daryl groans trying to help walk a drunk and injured Merle up the stairs to their apartment.

“That bitch deserved it!” Merle shouted only to be shushed because of the time of night it was and most of the neighbors hated him.

Except, surprisingly, Y/N. Their next door neighbor that is rarely home or seen because her other home seems to be the hospital she works as a nurse at. One of the times their paths crossed was when Y/N went to the bar Merle frequents at and got blasted after a long day but still managed to give Merle stitches when he decided the bar window was nice to go through.

When the brothers reached the top of the steps, Daryl instantly noticed Y/N sitting on the floor propped up against her door. Merle squinted to see why his brother stopped.

“Y/N WAKE UP” Merle shouted causing Y/N to flinch awake and for Daryl to groan letting go of his brother making him fall onto the floor. “Bitch…”

Y/N blinked a few times to get the sleepiness out of her eyes as she gave a confused look to Merle’s still body on the floor. She was about to ask questions but decided not to and accept the extended hand coming from Daryl.

“Do I even wanna know?”

“Besides drunk, what else you wanna know?”

“Nothing” Y/N laughed a bit, bending down to grab her backpack to get her keys out. “He needs stitches?”

“Just an ice pack, I think imma let him hang there” Daryl crosses his arms looking at his now passed out brother watching Y/N walk over to him and rolling him on his side. “What’s that for?”

“In case he throws up. I’m gonna grab a blanket so he won’t be too uncomfortable out here” Y/N returns to her door unlocking it. “I know he may have ruined it but you want a beer?”

“More so a smoke than a drink” Daryl rubs the back of his neck giving a concerned look to his brother that Y/N noticed once she was halfway through the door.

After dropping off her stuff and taking her coat off, Y/N stepped out gesturing for Daryl to follow her lead in picking up Merle. Her by his legs and him by his arms. Eventually Merle got settled on her couch still on his side and with a trash can beside his head.

“We could’ve—-“

“Nah too many extra steps to get him back in your apartment. Besides, I’m a trained professional in case other shit happens” Y/N went over to her window as she spoke, opening it up enough for her to climb through with Daryl following shortly after.

One would think anyone wouldn’t want anything to do with the Dixon brothers mainly because Merle puts trash onto their name. But Y/N likes their company, Daryl’s mainly, because it keeps her sane and human. Working in a hospital so much to the point one is accused of “living there,” anyone would want normalcy.

It’s an added bonus finding themselves sat in the fire escape, sharing a cigarette from the pack that Y/N hides in the empty plant pot that the previous owners left at her apartment.

“I had to take a decontamination shower at the end of my shift because of the vomit and blood from that singular patient”

“Sounds awful” Daryl frowns, watching Y/N smoke for a moment as he kept his gaze on how tense she was for a while before finally relaxing after exhaling the smoke. Her eyes were exhausted just as the rest of her, but they told so much more that he worried for. “Ever thought of taking a break? Vacation more like”

“With all the hours I’ve got saved, I could. But I’ve been in the hospital for so long that I wouldn’t know what I’d even do”

“Uh…well you like Merle and I, you can join us for our hunting trip” Daryl put that up in the air, looking her curious expression. “It’ll be next month”

“I haven’t gone hunting since my old man was still around…” Y/N put out the last of her cigarette thinking about the option. “You sure Merle would be cool with it?”

He didn’t think that would work. Daryl shrugs as he looked back into the apartment where Merle laid on the couch snoring loudly. “The worse to happen is Merle would hit on yea for most of it”

“I’ve dealt with worse, trust me…a lot worse”

“So…?”

“I’d be happy to. As long as I get a ride from work. I wanna work as much as I can before taking a few days off”

“We can pick yea up from work. Merle will be on his bike and I’ll be taking the truck”

“Works for me, I’ll give you my stuff the day before” Y/N smiles and that quickly faded along with Daryl’s when both heard the eldest Dixon vomit his stomach out. “Yup. Love his company too”

During The Hunting Trip (and the start of the outbreak)

“You wear anything other than the scrubs?”

“Sundresses, but I wasn’t going to pack one of those for a hunting trip Merle” Y/N rolled her eyes, quickly stopping when she heard something. Merle quickly but stealthily followed the noise.

It felt unreal, how quick something can escalate from standing in the open waiting for either Dixon to come back from the noises they’ve heard…to falling back in shock to the undead stepping closer.

The closer it got, the more Y/N let the shock take over that when she reached for her knife…the sicko fell on her. But thankfully with a bolt in its skull. Y/N couldn’t register what had just happened until Merle kicked the corpse off of her body making her lock eyes with the equally shocked Daryl across from her.

“You alright girlie?” Merle asks, not waiting another second as he grabbed her upper arm pulling her up on her feet. “Come on speak! Are yea bit?”

“No I’m…uh what the fuck?!” Y/N shouted once it hit her letting Merle check her arms and neck before shoving him back. “Is this what that fucking radio broadcast was about?”

“Makes sense right about now. But the fact that one is out here…people makin’ camp and bringing those who’ve been infected out here with them”

“Fuck. The hospitals must be flooded with patients with symptoms before it reaches this stage.” The worry on her face only drew an annoyed one out of Merle and an equally concerned expression from Daryl but not for the strangers. “I have to go back, see if I can help or something!” Y/N stated as she started to make her way toward the truck.

“Doll, that won’t be a smart decision” Merle planted his hands on his hips continuing the annoyed look on his face until it turned to confusion when his brother quickly caught up with her.

“You can’t go back”

“I have to! I took an oath” Y/N scrambled a bit, putting her hunting rifle in the bed of the truck dropping her pack on the floor to grab a clean scrub top. “I didn’t spend years in school to not save people’s lives——“

“Y/N, if this shit spread. The hospital ain’t safe and I can’t lose you”

His words caused her to freeze in her place before turning toward him with a much softer expression compared to her worry filled one.

“W-We can’t lose you…okay? If they didn’t figure the virus out, I don’t know what you could do”

“I wish I could do something…” Y/N felt the burning sensation of tears building in her eyes forcing her to look away.

Daryl stood for a moment wanting to pull her into his arms, but both were startled by Merle’s crazed excitement when he found something off the corpses body.

They’ll have to get used to this…new life

The Quarry

“Does it still hurt?” Y/N frowns gently dabbing the cut on Carol’s cheek with a wet rag. She pulled the rag away to wet it more with water from her canteen. “Is he really helping Shane? Or waiting for you back at your tent”

“Knowing Ed, he’s waiting back at the tent. I’m just…thankful Sophia wasn’t there” Carol frowns, flinching when Y/N went back to cleaning up the blood giving her apologies for the suddenness. “You understand…don’t you?”

“I don’t get what you mean…”

“You know…being with them at the start of all this…I doubt they were good company” Carol scoffs when they both heard Merle shouting like usual at Shane. If they weren’t labeled “typical rednecks” when they first joined this group, then they would’ve seen it was Shane’s fault for what Merle was yelling at him for.

“You’ve got them wrong.” Y/N scoffed to her words, looking over at them in what looks to be an argument. Watching Daryl try to de-escalate the situation from how intense Merle decided to make it. “Me wrong too…I’ve known them for years. I was their neighbor and while Merle did have his moments, they were both still nice to me. Hell…even there for me when I needed it” she frowns looking back to her bag to take out a bandage for Carol’s cheek and once it was placed, she stood to her feet. “Give them the benefit of the doubt instead of judging right away…”

With that she took her leave toward her tent that was next to the Dixons which were a camp away from camp because a few shared private concerns making them isolate. Y/N wasn’t about to leave them even if Merle did make the comment when they first joined this group.

“She’s more like them” is what he said

“Stupid fuckin’ pig” Merle scoffs returning to their little campsite taking a seat beside Y/N who was just as annoyed as he was but more on the melancholy side of things while his was filled with rage.

Concern only washed over Daryl when he noticed her expression but he didn’t even get a second to say anything before Merle went off.

“Y’know I bet yea that motherfucker only wants me to go on that trip just so something bad can happen and I end up a sicko”

“Wait, what trip?” Y/N quickly turned to Daryl knowing he will give a better explanation of everything while Merle only focused on what mattered to him.

“Shane, the fucking moron that tells us not to hunt at a certain hour so he could do who knows what in the woods—-wants me to join the girlies, the Chinese kid, and the other two to go into Atlanta for supplies”

“Well, he’s Korean first of all…”

“Doll like I give a fu—-CK” Merle shouted when Y/N elbowed him in the side. “They using me as a goddamn escort nobody gonna give a fuck if I meet my maker out there”

“We do” Y/N gestured to Daryl and herself. “Merle, you’re more of muscle along a few of the others from the main group. You sure he didn’t ask for yea to make sure the others are safe?”

“That’s exactly how he put it, Merle is just dramatic” Daryl sets his crossbow down beside him once he sat on the ground with them. “They’ll die without us”

“As much as people can adapt, Daryl has a point here. Shane will only lose game if he went shooting his shotgun at deers and squirrels” Y/N leaned back on her hands. “Hell, the squirrels will explode if he shot at them. They’ll need the both of y’all to bring back a lot of game to survive. Besides, you know Atlanta better than most. You can survive a few herds”

“You both are a bunch of bitches” Merle wasn’t serious when he stated such at least when it’s directed to those two, but he still didn’t like the idea of leaving with these people to Atlanta.

That when they returned with someone who wasn’t Merle, Y/N knew they were about to meet a whole world of hurt.

“Fuck no”

“Y/N—-“

“I could never get Daryl to calm down” They both know that was a lie, Y/N is honestly the only person that could calm him down. But what they both can agree on is they don’t know how he will react to the news.

“Bullshit. You’re gonna have to try somethin’ so he doesn’t fucking kill the man”

“But isn’t that what you wanted?” Y/N watched the color leave Shane’s face. “For this Rick guy to remain dead so you can lay your pipe in a place you shouldn’t be laying it”

His fists clench at either side of him trying his hardest not to strike, but Y/N had enough of keeping that shit to herself. She didn’t care for what happened next…for the most part

When Daryl returned to the camp in search for Merle, ignoring everyone’s questions while he came up empty on finding his brother within the camp. But the annoyance only grew when he couldn’t find his—-Y/N.

“Where’s—-“

“We left Merle. Well, I did.” Rick stated noticing the concern on Daryl’s face which led him to believe there was more to it and he instantly turned to Shane. All the man ever does was shrug but it quickly turned to pulling the youngest Dixon off his “brother”

His presence would normally bring joy in any mood she was in, but given the situation and what happened prior to Daryl finding out about his brother? Y/N was miserable and hiding something.

“You hear what those fucking sons of bitches did?! Leaving Merle chained up to a goddamn roof!” Daryl shouted, quickly stopping when he noticed Y/N flinch to his words. “Sorry—-Fuck, I’m just—-“

“Mad. Rightfully, mad” Y/N rasped, squeezing her eyes shut while she pressed her wet bandana to her cheek. “That Rick guy said he was going to go back to get his dumbass even after putting him up there.”

Daryl didn’t say anything right away as he steps around her to get a look at her front watching her duck her head. “Lori wasn’t too happy about it”

“Figured” Y/N frowns continuing to look at the ground watching his shadow grow bigger practically covering her and indicating he was knelt in front of her. Daryl gently removed what she was using as a rag to see what happened. “It’s superficial. Not like I’d have anything to do stitches anyway…you need to get Merle back”

He didn’t say a word all he did was nod while reaching for her pack to take out those butterfly bandages she has.

“Can I—-“

“Yeah”

The youngest Dixon didn’t push her on what happened, all they talked about after he saw was the plan to get Merle’s ass back to the camp. Even if it meant she couldn’t come with which infuriated her.

But that didn’t matter. The feeling useless part passed quickly when their camp was being washed through with a herd. Y/N always had her axe beside her and didn’t hesitate to start taking out sickos while most of the women protected their children. The only thing she’d want to protect wasn’t there. She didn’t need to worry too much.

Carol let out a scream when one got too close that lead Y/N to quickly swing her axe into its skull watching her quickly get away following Lori. Y/N pulled the axe out and didn’t know of the walker creeping up behind her until a gun shot both killed the walker and almost burst her ear drum. But she quickly turned toward who fired and saw Daryl, both having a relieved look that turned into focused quickly to finish off the walkers.

Once all the dead and undead were mourn or taken care of…the plan was to go to the CDC in hopes for something to help Jim when it was revealed he was bitten. But on the way, they stopped and left him as per his request.

The CDC

Y/N of course sat with Daryl in his truck with Merle’s bike strapped in the bed of it. Neither of them talked for most of the ride given they were worried, angry, and a bit upset…but not at each other. Daryl knows Y/N has her reasons for not telling him how the cut on her cheek happened but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry. She on the other hand was infuriated and struggling to keep the tears at bay. Being a nurse and feeling useless was getting to her. That bastard leaving Merle was getting to her. That stupid bitch Shane was getting to her.

“You think Merle is fine?” Y/N questions while she watches the scenery go by the woods slowly disappearing. “What kind of son of a bitch cuts his own hand off? Doubt he even knows how to properly stop the bleeding…burning it isn’t the right way”

“Merle is a roach. He’ll turn up…eventually” Daryl frowns gripping onto the wheel tight as he continued to follow the RV. The truck ran over a walker causing it to jump and for Daryl to instantly force his arm in front of Y/N as she held onto it out of anxious habit with bumps.

“Never going to get used to that…maybe we should’ve just ditched the truck and taken the bike”

Daryl took note of that

When they got to the CDC, right away one assumed that it was empty and barren. Honestly who could blame the scientists for running from this mess? The government already decided more destructive solutions that didn’t work. But when the doors opened, everyone was on edge. Thankful, but on edge. Y/N was given the hunting shotgun Daryl he had back at camp to pair with the axe strapped to her back under her pack. She raised it instantly along with the others when the doctor stepped out to greet the survivors.

Dr. Jenner was his name and he happily let them in giving them the facility for the night. He of course had them get tested for anything which had Y/N feeling nostalgic and given her background, he asked for her help in a few ways before everyone decided to enjoy the luxuries that the place gave.

Booze. Booze was the start along with food.

Y/N only drank with Daryl and Merle, so she didn’t feel comfortable drinking as much as the others were during the dinner the doctor made for them. She kept an eye on Daryl given he was drinking til he couldn’t see straight anymore, he needed it after the Merle nonsense.

But every time he looked over at her, he smiled. In a way it was to make sure she was still there but there was so much more.

When the group started to turn in for the night, everyone stayed with who they were close with. But given how much Glenn drank, Rick and Shane suggested he’d stick with Y/N and Daryl. Mainly Y/N for she has the training in case he aspirated. Which nothing a good “having him sleep on his side” wouldn’t fix.

Daryl stumbles into the room squinting at the sight of Y/N helping Glenn lay down on his side before moving to the couch which would be her bed for the night. She made Glenn’s bed out of the back cushions of the other couch knowing Daryl was going to rip them off anyway. He came to the apartment drunk once and she’d let him crash, he did exactly that before passing out.

“Did you shower? In your state?”

“Nah. Got lost” Daryl scanned around the room quickly switching the light off.

Before Daryl even thought about going to the other couch and sleeping off the effects alcohol has on the body, he brought himself to sit on the floor leaning up against Y/N’s couch. He flinched slightly when she brought her hand to his forehead before easing into the smallest touch.

“Just the alcohol. No fever”

“Just checking” She said in a hushed tone before laying back on the couch keeping her eye on him watching his brows furrow contemplating on saying something or not. “You should get some sleep, bubs”

He felt the heat rise instantly in his face as he decided the couch was no longer an option and laid down right where he was. Y/N watched him get comfortable on the floor before grabbing a couch cushion and giving it to him to use as a pillow.

The night progressed and Daryl laid awake for the most part, thinking staying conscious would subside the feeling of liquor and the strange but familiar one lingering in his chest.

Just when most thought the next morning would be peaceful after some breakfast and much needed pain killers…it was revealed what the clock was on the wall. It was a countdown for total power loss and the last of it to destroy the CDC in a fiery explosion.

Leave or Die

Leave or Die

Leave or Die

Who would’ve thought that would be a hard decision to make while most panicked around her and once Jenner finally opened the doors for them. She froze in place and felt the tightness in her chest grow.

When Daryl watched the door open he immediately turned to his side half expecting her to be with him. But soon realized she stood by the panels with the doctor and those debating to stay or know for fact. He stood there waiting. Waiting for any sign.

Even if it was Y/N simply turning around to look at him with tears in her eyes. Daryl then acted without a thought by sprinting toward her and instantly picking her up before booking it for the main lobby of the CDC. Where the commotion involving a grenade was being conducted.

“Duck!” The sheriff yelled as everyone did exactly what he said, Daryl shielding Y/N when he crouched feeling her shift out of his arms but her arms remained around his neck holding him close.

They parted when the grenade explosion dissipated, but Daryl didn’t hesitate for a second to usher her out of the building before getting himself out.

The explosion of the CDC rattled the earth and those especially barely escaping it.

“Everybody alright?” Rick asks everyone getting a few yeses and more of annoyed groans after being shaken. “We have to get out of here. Before the herd comes”

“Help me get the bike off” Daryl gestured for Glenn to help as he went to do so. Y/N instantly bringing herself to the bed of the truck grabbing their gear before they took the bike off.

“Rick, siphon the gas from the truck and fill up your cars. Should hold us up for a while or at least until we find more cars”

As they were quick to scramble and move some of the gear from the truck to the RV, Y/N was about to move into one of the cars when Daryl gripped her shoulder gently.

“Ride with me, yeah?”

“I uhm. It’s been a while, Daryl…”

“Alright…Uhm. Don’t sit with Shane, least do that for me” The look he gave her when he said that, only told her that he knew. He knew who gave her that wound on her cheek.

Y/N instantly nods and goes to join Andrea, Glenn, and Dale in the RV while Daryl got situated on his bike leading the way back to the freeway. Hopefully they can find shelter elsewhere.

The Farm

“You and Daryl seem…close. Is there like more to that?” Glenn thought maybe since there wasn’t many in the RV, and especially Daryl, that he could ask things like that.

Y/N being more open to answer after spending more time with these people. “We’re close, but if you’re insinuating what I think you are then no…”

“Is that what you want?” Andrea cuts in, looking directly at Y/N from her spot in the passengers seat. “You want something more don’t you?”

“I-…Well, why would I if the other party doesn’t seem interested” Y/N stated, only for Dale to scoff with a laugh after. “What?”

“You would have to be blind as a bat to not notice how much that man cares for you. If you really wanna know? Try and talk to Shane. About anything.” Dale gave her a look through the rear view mirror before stopping in the freeway when his RV started to make noise. “Damn thing breaking on me at the wrong time”

When the RV stopped, everyone stopped.

Daryl brought his bike to the banks of the freeway watching the RV from his spot seeing Dale get out first along with Glenn. He was about to go in to check on—-

“Hey, this’ll be the perfect time to fuel up on some gas. Even check some of the cars for anything that will be useful.” Rick interrupted his thoughts, Daryl nodded to his words watching him go ahead of him before taking a quick glance at the RV finding Y/N stepping out with a look he couldn’t fully read.

“Hey, Y/N can you take a look at these meds I found?” Lori caught her attention instantly and the second she approached him, Daryl went ahead to investigate some of cars himself.

Then things turned for the worse and a herd started to come through the cars. Most hid underneath the closest car they were near and Dale got stuck on top of the RV…but the worst to happen was the cries of Sophia had attracted some of the walkers. Leading her to run away and the sheriff quickly went after her.

‘Sophia’ Carol whisper shouted as they couldn’t entirely leave when the herd was passing, they only started to get out of hiding and took out the stragglers.

Y/N quickly pulled herself out from under the car watching Carol quickly get out with Lori trying to stop her. She wanted so badly to chase after her daughter and the walkers but Rick’s got it. He’s going to save her…

“You didn’t find her?” Carol couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore, Lori laid a comforting hand on her back.

“They’ll find her or at least try their hardest” Y/N tells Carol with concern littered in her voice even if she only wanted the first part. “There’s still plenty of people in the world even after it ended. She could’ve ran into somebody that will help her get back to you…” she gave a sad smile before turning to Daryl watching him straighten up.

“We’ll find her. We’ll keep lookin’”

This is a mother’s worst nightmare Y/N thought as she organized the trunk of their findings before being pulled away to help T-Dog in terms of his injury.

Rick and Shane left a while ago with Carl to go search for Sophia which left the others splitting into searching themselves and staying at the RV. Y/N being with the RV group given she wanted to keep an eye on T-Dog’s injury but some part of her was screaming internally over this whole situation.

Sophia hid because Rick instructed her to do so but she ran. You would run if your life was about to be in the hand of walkers…

Now Rick, Shane, and Carl disappeared. What could’ve possible gone wrong?

“Are you okay?” Y/N frowns watching Andrea come into the trailer with a bit of annoyed but equally anxious look on her face.

“Yeah, but someone took Lori. Knew Carl and her name so we are gonna go to the place they are at” Andrea sat across from her at the little table noticing Y/N pinching her arm which some spots started to bruise.

As Andrea reached across the table to take her hand to get her to stop, ultimately holding it so she wouldn’t continue. Daryl flew the door open instantly locking eyes with Y/N before stepping away to get on his bike while Glenn and Dale flooded in.

The second the RV arrived on the farm, Rick ran out of the house toward it. He gently pushed Glenn and Andrea out of the way to get Y/N taking her hand dragging her toward the house.

“Where’s the fi—-“

“Carl’s been shot. The man of the house is a vet and is doing his best. Could use another set of—-“

“I’ve got it” Y/N didn’t need to hear more to understand the just of it. She was going to be told everything by Hershel, the head of the house, anyway.

Once Shane came with the right medical supplies, Hershel was relieved to have someone with full medical training to help him fix Carl’s injuries. But that didn’t stop him from discussing certain matters.

“If you don’t mind me asking…”

“Is it about this?” Y/N gave him a confused look keeping hold of the retractor while Patricia continuously squeezed the ambu bag that Shane managed to snag for Carl.

“No…these people you’re with…you trust their judgement?”

“Yeah, a little bit. I’m still trying to get used to the fact that one of them left my—-my best friend’s brother on a roof” Y/N picked up a piece of gauze to dab at the blood that spilled. “He wa—is a racist sexist son of a bitch so. Who could blame him”

Patricia fought back a laugh as Hershel rolled his eyes but was going to take her word for the first part. He can give some trust in these people.

“Listen, Hershel. I may have not been with these people for long…but they are good people. They mean well at the end of the day even with their flaws.” Y/N finished her thought before helping him finish with the closing.

After the operation, Y/N stepped out into the kitchen where Patricia instructed her to wash her hands in the sink. As she was doing so, Lori instantly went to her and without any words she gave her a smile and let Hershel explain how everything went smoothly.

Y/N stepped out realizing how late it was and how everyone set up their tents already. Part of her wished she still had her apartment and could simply crash without having to set anything up. But when she was about to head toward the RV to get her things, she noticed her tent set up and close to his.

Sweet… Y/N felt the twitch of a smile before entering her tent and laying on the floor for a moment.

Laying on the ground in a tent after a successful surgery was very different compared to laying on the kitchen floor with a half empty bag of chips and a bottle of Merlot. Felt nicer and worse in some way.

“Y/N?” Daryl whispers, just in case she was still asleep but when she opened the tent flap he relaxed a bit from the awkward feeling. “The kid alright?”

“Yeah, he’ll probably need another transfusion but we won’t know until he improves” Y/N sat in the way of the flap giving Daryl an unreadable look and all he wanted to know mostly was if she was alright after what she had to do. But decided to focus on different matters. “Did you need something, Dar?”

“Uh. No I just…I’m gonna look for Sophia in the mornin’. Wanna let yea know”

“Thank you…be safe and back before nightfall”

“I promise, sunshine” He gave a small nod shortly leaving after, letting Y/N get some sleep even when once the tent flap closed she felt the heat consume her face when he called her that.

But that small happiness faded when her anxiety started to eat at her the more the sunlight faded in the next day.

“You need to stop pacing. You’ve done laundry, you checked Carl’s incision site, you gave Maggie and Glenn a list of drugs to look for on their run, amongst other small tasks. Creating a ditch in the dirt just from pacing back and forth is only going to wear your shoes out and not make Daryl come back any fast” Andrea told Y/N while she got up on top of the RV to take watch.

“She’s got a point. You’re wearing yourself out over possibly nothing” Dale said while handing his rifle up to Andrea expecting her not having to use it. “He’s looking for signs of Sophia or her overall and will be back. He told you that much”

“Least you know what his intentions are. Most partners don’t realize their significant other is cheating on them because they beat around the bush when asked “where have you been”” Rick stepped out of the RV saying such which in response was a confused expression from Y/N. “He is your boyfriend is he not?”

“No! We aren’t together at all…”

“Hm. Odd”

“How so?”

“I had to pull off a very angry drunk Daryl off of Shane the night we spent at the CDC. Threatened to kill him if he ever laid a hand on yea again” Rick shrugged. “That’s when I thought y’all were somethin’ more.”

Andrea laughed at the situation, earning an annoyed groan from Y/N as she turned to Dale about to question if he knew about that incident when her friend’s tone shifted.

“WALKER” Andrea shouted rising from the lawn chair. “Walker!”

“Just the one?” Rick question without a confirmation on the number but he couldn’t focus on that anymore when Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog started to make their way over to said walker. “Hold up. Hershel wants to handle the walkers”

“We’ve got it” Shane assured continuing on his way while Andrea had the brilliant idea that she can take out the walker with the rifle she has and the sun in her eyes.

Dale kept trying to tell her not to take the shot. Maybe because they were heading their way toward the “walker” and she couldn’t accidentally hit the living.

But she did that. To the walker that was actually an injured Daryl.

When he dropped, the ounce of joy Andrea felt immediately faded when all three by the RV heard the shouts of no!

Y/N quickly made her way over to the shouting and noticed the limp hunter in between Rick and Shane that she started to feel that itchy feeling that came with anger. She gripped the tank top she was in, quickly turning around and heading straight for her tent to get her scrub top before making it to the house the second Hershel was informed.

Regardless of the minor protests of having her patch Daryl up, even from the man himself, Y/N was persistent and pissed.

When the adrenaline wore off, Daryl passed out but thankfully his wounds were taken care of and he was left alone. Not entirely though. Y/N sat on the window bench watching the rise and fall of his chest every now and then. But for the most part she kept her focus on her hands and how much blood stained her skin. Especially her nails.

Just the thought and fact of it being his blood resulted in her curling up on herself and sobbing ever so softly.

The time Carol came in and told him how grateful she was that he still went out of his way to go search for Sophia, Daryl noticed Y/N’s sleeping form in the window but especially the redness slightly above her cheeks.

“She’s been here the whole time. She does a good stitch job from what Hershel says” Carol whispers with a small laugh at the end of her sentence. “Get some rest, Dixon”

Y/N woke to the sound of struggling and a few curses. Daryl thought he could go unnoticed given their group was asleep in their tents and so was the family that owned the house but the light sleeper that was his—Y/N woke up.

“Stop starin’ and give me a hand”

“You deserve to rest in a bed, Daryl…” Y/N frowns getting up from her spot and approaching him but before he could protest, she helped him stand to his feet. “Least let me help you to your tent”

Daryl nodded, letting Y/N wrap one of his arms around her shoulders before getting out of the house. She made him take it slow and practically at her pace given it was what she wanted him to go at.

The silence was killing him that when they finally reached his tent and Y/N was about to part from him, he gently grabbed her wrist pulling her back.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“You haven’t talked. Not a long walk but still. You just…haven’t”

Y/N stared at him. Stared into those deep blue eyes that bore into her soul for an answer which only let the damn break loose.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” The wobble in her voice shook him in his core. “Seeing you…in the state that you were in…yeah, you made it…but a little over and you wouldn’t be here and I would’ve lost you” she felt a few tears slip, pulling herself away enough so that she could hold his hand. “You mean…so much to me, Daryl Dixon.”

The staring from said Dixon only continued and that couldn’t help the thought of crossing a line to flood Y/N’s mind. But before she could even think to pull away and head to her tent, Daryl pulled her in and pressed his lips firmly against hers…

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡What He Deserves｡⋆.

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!plus size reader

The morning after Bucky claims you, he realises how much he truly loves you

Warnings: implied smut, nudity, mention of claiming, fluff, brief talks about Bucky’s past

WC: 478

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

4k Celebration

Dawn crept over the horizon slowly, the weak winter sun just barely breaking through the curtains on the far side of the bedroom, creating small beams of light that fell over the bed. There were pillows and sheets strewn everywhere, leaving the bed bare save for a singular blanket that covered the occupants.

Bucky had been awake for hours, in fact he hadn’t even fallen asleep. Too overwhelmed with new emotions to even think about shutting his eyes, he had just watched you. You were sprawled on top of him, your naked body fitting perfectly on his own, chest to chest, your legs intertwined with your nose firmly pressed against his collarbone.

The wound on your shoulder was already healing, it would leave a scar but that was the whole point wasn’t it. A perfect circle of small cuts that, if Bucky leaned down and put his mouth to it, would match the pattern of his teeth. Unable to stop himself, he rubbed his thumb against the broken skin and fresh wave of your scent washed over him.

Bucky groaned as he inhaled, the smell of you so raw and untainted it made his skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Alpha?” Your voice came out as more of a rasp, still thick with sleep.

He winced. “Sorry mega, didn’t mean to wake you.” You hummed and nuzzled further into his warm chest, your hand coming up to rest just over his heart. Bucky smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“’S okay.” You sighed, a happy calmness spreading through the fresh bond. It immediately settles in his stomach, a feeling of peace and home. His grip gets just a little tighter but you don’t fight it, instead your soft body goes completely limp in his arms as you let out a contented mewl.

Snores began to escape your lips once more and Bucky just watched you. This was all he had ever wanted but never thought he could have, or deserved. You were his everything and by the grace of whatever god was out there, you let him worship you and love you with his whole being.

And now you were mated, joined together for eternity.

You chased away his nightmares with a smile, banishing them to a place where they could never hurt him again. You guided him into the light with your laughter, you showed him that touch doesn’t always bring pain. You proved to him that he was more than his past, more than a puppet for someone else’s bidding. 

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He spoke quietly into the early morning light so as to not wake you once more. He let his eyes finally slip shut, content with you in his arms, your scent keeping him grounded.

He couldn’t wait to wake up and start the rest of your lives.

Request: Do you think I could get a a/b/o with either “I burn for you,” or “I love you more than I ever thought possible” with either Kylo Ren or Bucky Barnes?

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[nectardaddy]

mirage | suna rintarou

seven | rolodex ★

masterlist

I haven't added music to this series; however, Soda by Nothing But Thieves helped me write this. I'd definitely take a listen!

ignore timestamps

cw/notes: messy x100 bass boosted in 4k, flawed characters, self destructive behavior, real/raw emotions, anxiety/panic attack, allusion to being overstimulated, very brief mention of throwing up (used as a metaphor, not detailed), repetitive statements done on purpose

She death gripped the metal counter with a small sigh, knuckles starting to grow sore from the tension she held onto. The cold metal sending a shock wave through her palms, a sudden iciness to it that she hoped would force her back to reality - it didn't.

Breathe.

As if telling herself that would make it any easier.

Her day started off normally, despite the pain the bashed her skull from drinking the night before. A familiarity to her routine that kept her stress relatively low - if something were to go amiss it ruined her day. A rolodex of mundane tasks and work obligations, but if she did them in a set order her stress was little to none. A schedule she stuck to meticulously, one wrong move and her day would be torn asunder.

Suna Rintarou threw a wrench in that complex order; took the rolodex in his hands and made a jumbled mess of it.

'I just want you to be happy.' Haunted her subconscious the moment she read it, the moment she finally went to sleep, and the moment she opened her eyes that morning. Lingered in the back of her mind throughout the day until it couldn't be ignored anymore; prowling around in her head like a cat - until it finally pounced.

Breathe.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but the thought of the green eyed man still rattled her to her very core. Feline and wild, at one point making her weak at the knees; now she only felt the need to vomit at the thought. To pull the nearest trash can towards her and heave; because why on earth did she still want him? Why did she still crave the attention of a man who's words were brash and unruly? Why did she still need the man who's kind sentiments never truly fizzled out?

Why did she still love the man whom she created to be the devil?

Distracting herself with every petty, trivial argument they had to negate the feelings of hopeless love. Purposefully unable to recall of times where he was doting, selfless - loving. It was better to remember him as a monster, if he ever was one in the first place, than think of him fondly.

Suna Rintarou ruined that image of himself for her. Shattered it into a million pieces and she watched in horror as it fell at her feet. 'I just want you to be happy' was the smoking gun that shot down any fleeting memory of a bickering past.

She reopened her eyes and seized the counter harder, an imprint of the table's edge embedding itself in her palm as she held it vehemently. With a tight jaw, she let her eyes slide to her phone resting on the table next to her. Staring back at her as a singular thought wracked her brain - call him.

Her world got a bit smaller when the thought hit her. Caving in on itself as the notion alone gave her tunnel vision.

Call him.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in a breath as all she could find herself to do was stare at the black screen in contemplation.

Call him.

A quick decision, one given without thought, that caused her body to move on its own. Picking up the phone and scrolling through her contacts with conviction, but without a thread of reflection. Yet the phone rang a bit too long, the fan next to her was a bit too loud, and the lights above her in the cramped back room were a bit too bright.

So she hung up the moment he answered and threw her phone back onto the table. She listened to it buzz relentlessly for the next few minutes with eyes screwed shut and knee bouncing until it finally fell silent again.

Breathe.

I am an unreliable narrator, obviously, and yes it was done on purpose do not come for me.

Iwa can pretty much guess what's going on, next chapter bout to go crazy with this

pay attention to the lock screen picture ;) (do not read me about that lock screen either I tried my best on canva)

if you don't know what a rolodex is, thanks for making me feel old, but (and this is the google definition) it's a "rotating card file device used to store a contact list"

she will not be telling the group chat what she's doing tonight

she will lie if they ask just like she lied to akaashi

yn I see you and I love you dearly

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[noideasforausername]

crumpled letter.

description: sirius black x literally whoever (self-insert or existing character, anything works)

word count: 0.7k

warnings: angst? (basically all I write is angst are we even surprised at this point)

───────────

Sirius was used to being on the receiving end of an absurd number of letters – written confessions – on the regular. It had been admittedly entertaining at first, grown rapidly concerning and ended up becoming quite bothersome. By his sixth year, he’d taken the habit of simply throwing them away: the dizzying shades of pink an eyesore, particularly first thing in the morning.  

Blue, black, red and occasionally gold ink, all conveying one clear message through their various deviations from the boring “I like you” (that is, of course, with one singular and minuscule heart over each individual i). 

That particular morning, things were about as outwardly ordinary as possible: the nauseatingly colourful pile dropped next to Sirius’ goblet a testament to this statement.  

It seemed that the owls’ brief period of strike was over – for Hogwarts had seen this rare phenomenon earlier that year, the animals having reached abnormally high levels of annoyance with the repetitive act of carrying the garish mail to a less-than-grateful black-haired student. 

Sirius had half a mind to leave them there. Maybe that would give his faceless – and nameless in some cases – admirers a hint. But he didn’t. Instead, he crumpled them all up with a flick of his wand, a motion he knew by heart, and stuffed them in his pocket (the waiting room before they’d inevitably find their home in the depths of the nearest trash can.)

Amongst them, a white envelope. One so ordinary it should have stood out from the pile. Black ink on a standard piece of parchment.

 

“Here it goes. I have tried writing this with flourish and charm, but this is my last piece of parchment and I fear I will chicken out if I do not send this now. 

I’m aware the chances of you reading this are slim. Perhaps that’s why I decided to write you in the first place. But I have tried everything. And being a small speck in the sandstorm that causes that frown to appear on your forehead every morning seemed a fair price to pay.  

Let me start, or better yet continue, by clarifying one thing: this is not a love letter. I am not writing to beg for a chance of your eyes meeting mine in anything more than a passing coincidence. Instead, I hope that this will end up at the bottom of your pocket, and that the rage I hold will burn a hole right through that expensive black silk, setting the rest of the letters aflame and silencing the voices you crush daily with the barest swish of the wrist. 

You, Sirius Orion Black, are infuriating. Your face is irksome. Your grin is positively maddening. The curve of your cheekbones, the angle of your jawline, the glint in your eyes, the way you so effortlessly carry yourself – as if taking up space is what you were born to do. I’ve come to believe that you are taunting me indirectly.  

And I wish you would stop. Or maybe what’s even more aggravating is that I can’t picture a life in which you do. It is unfair, that we are unable to look at the sun for too long without being blinded, and yet no matter how long my eyes rest on you, my vision stays intact.  

I have made it my mission to ignore you. But not only has this proven impossible, my stubborn nature has blown this situation out of proportions, resulting in a pair of invisible, unmovable binoculars that constantly seek you out having replaced my eyes.  

I have no explanation, no enchantment ever recorded matches the effect you seem to have on me. This slow, torturous, pit in my stomach knowing that somewhere between these walls, your chest is rising and falling in rhythm with my own.  

I have many more insults to throw your way, but I am running out of paper. All that to say, though you may believe you dispose only of devoted admirers, there is someone in this very castle whose life has been thrown off its axis for no apparent reason other than your very existence. I hope that getting this off my chest and sending it your way will break this unbearable cycle. If not, this is my formal way of telling you to fuck off Sirius Black. Fuck off and put my life back the way it was.” 

[twistedwonderlandobsession]

.•♥︎Spilled Tea♥︎•.

Series:Yuu Needs Therapy

Branch: Overblotts

Character: Riddle

Part: 1 of ?

Riddle....Riddle had always made you nervous. Not in the butterflies in your stomach way, but in the way of being caught by your parents doing something you shouldn't. Like he was looking through your very soul with that oh so piercing gaze every time he crossed paths with you. Like he was constantly judging your every move, analyzing everything. Pointing out every imperfection within the confines of his mind. A scolding with each glance, on the first day when Grimm caused a ruckus to every single time you passed him in the hall, every mere glance felt as if it was a lecture despite not a singular word of criticism passing his lips, just a firm line and

dissaproving glare whenever he saw you.

You spent so much time trying to resolve the small Quarles while trying to not get your head chopped off, walking on eggshells around him, choosing each and every word and action with precision while trying to poke and prod Ace's massive ego into just apologizing. Your hands chapped while shakily attempting to Crack open the chestnuts in order to make that damn tart. Making sure it looked absolutely perfect with bo cracks whatsoever. Wrapping it nicely in the best container you could. Reminding Ace to use gentle and careful words, even telling him exactly what ti say in order to make this all go away so you can be rid of him sleeping on that sofa.

Appearing at the birthday party with a small smile along with Ace and Deuce in tow. Watching as Ace apologized offering up the tart, before Riddles face turned Horrified apon finding out the mere flavor. Acting as if your ran over one of his hedgehogs for breaking the nonsensical Rule: 262 about how chestnuts tarts were forbidden from birthday parties. Unable to do anything but watch as he threw out their group and got rid of the tart, not by putting it in the fridge far away from the Birthday Party, but throwing it into the trash.

Failing over and over as you attempted to calm Ace's completely understandable frustration. But he completely refused to even attempt to apologize once more, and then Crowley dumped that unhelpful peice of information on them, encouraging the already roudy freshman to enact some sort of justice against the Crimson Tyrant.

Unable to stop them as they challenge their dear Housewarden to a duel. Proving his skills and cementing his position, which was both amazing and horrifying at the same time to all of the spectators. Amazed at his skills, but Horrified that he would remain in his position of power over the Heartslabyul students.

Then you had to watch yet again as any chance of a peaceful solution was dashed when Ace punched Riddle square in the face.

Having to desperately attempt to calm Riddle down after he overblotted, litterally fighting for your life as you attempted to snap him out of his enraged stupor. Being almost beaten senseless, blood splattered over the grass, painting any possible misscolored roses in a deep shade of red, trying to get the students out of the line of fire while Trey tried to hold back his magic. Absolutely helpless to do anything other than direct people and try to not be hit my his magic that would have killed a magic student easily, let alone your very magicless self. Barely managing to survive and snap him out of it with the combined magic of Trey, Carter, Deuce, Ace, and Grim combined.

Breathing heavily as relief filled your body as Riddle snapped out of his Rage and had a small breakdown while Trey dragged the sniffling Housewarden to the infirmary, while Carter attempted to gather all the injured students to the infirmary, most having a decent amount of blood loss, no less then 1/2 a litter for a most. Your skin covered bruises with blood soaking your clothing causing it to stick to your body as the metalic sent filled your nostrils. Your heart pounding through your chest as the noise of it filled your eardrums overwhelming any other of your senses.

Carter's appalled face twords grim consumption of the strange rock being the last thing you saw before suddenly black filled your vision.

[phoenix--flying]

pjo characters as things my friend group has said

Hazel: I just kinda radiate towards caves

Nico: Breathing has been taken out of Nicos software

Connor: I can speedrun to your house when you're home alone

Cecil: raisins are dehydrated rats

Percy: It's a roller coaster where the only option is to die

Will: I just goooot- my jugular sliced open by a cat

Nico: We're going out tonight and killing all the homophobes. Call it a date

Will: Why am I so much taller then- Oh its cause im standing on a dead body

Connor: You're sooo welcome. I literally did nothing

Hazel: Just because your trash doesn't mean you can't do great things. It's called a trash can not a trash cannot

Piper: Cut my hair, I'll cut your throat

Thalia: Sometimes I do slap kids

Travis: When I grow up I'm gonna be a legal drug dealer

Beckendorf: I’m going to drop kick myself into space

Malcom: Briefly describe three applications that make use of the total eternal reflection of light Connor: The colour seven

Grover: Percys reaching old age, we should put him in a retirement home

Piper: Leo what did you do Leo: I may have burned down an orphanage and it may have spread to this site.

Lou Ellen: Travelling, usually done on the ceiling

Will: Imagine sitting on your couch watching TV and your phone buzzes. Reminder: Breathe

Austin: i just broke an acorn.. panic whY IS THERE AN ACORN IN MY ROOM

Nico: i feel like today happened yesterday and i just slept for all of tomorrow and woke up in the evening

Malcom: yeah i fell down the stairs and broke my spine in 3 places Connor: that's hot

Jason: Nitroglycerin. The forbidden smoothie

Will: I always look like trash. Annabeth: I know that's why I hate looking like trash

Travis: well we only have a few minutes left of class.. y'all wanna watch something explode

Piper: It sounded like you smoked 10 packs of cigarettes and then hit puberty

Jason: Imagine you get fired the day after you die

Nico: My stomach just like...started learning German

Nyssa: Leo if you don't leave, i'm shoving this desk fan up your ass

Jason: I slammed my foot on the accelerator, running multiple red lights at 220km/h, because I wanted to drive safe

Nyssa: When you go through the car wash but you forget the car

Drew: *points at trashcan* That looks like you

Nico: I only want chemistry between me and a coffin

Jake: Gotta put your wheelchair in 4Wheeldrive. Outdoor mode. Off-road mode

Leo: Murder is ok as long as its fine

Percy: Maybe if I fall asleep on my textbook I'll wake up with all the knowledge

Connor: Let's play spin the bottle but it's only you and me

Leo: Now how do we calculate the density if swiss cheese

Clarisse: I have to ask one of the experts Chris: Who are the experts? Clarisse: I don't know

Piper: Your mom is on vacation Leo: well- she's on a permanent vacation

Michael: AYO BITCH YOUR FOODS FLAMIN THE FUCK

Silena: If you're slow I'm a fucking snail

Jason: We need to hold a funeral! Percy: Here comes the bride

Beckendorf: Have you ever died? No??? Well here you go!!! Death simulator. It’s permanent!

*Annabeth and Percy sitting on a bench with drinks and a cop drives by* Percy: What if they thought we were drinking and driving Annabeth: We're not in a car

Will: I'm so smart Nico: Oh my god since when

Piper: *gives Leo a singular goldfish* Piper: Feeding the poor

Lou Ellen: Bless your soul Nico: What soul? Lou Ellen: ...good answer

Sherman: an apple a day keeps the doctor away, and anybody else if you throw it hard enough

Connor: I can see the veins in my eyes

Ellis: Whatever sinks your boat!

Cecil: You can't kill the gays if the gays kill you first

Will: dude sorry there's a knife in your grandma's face it grew wings and flew there :( Cecil: I’m sorry my knife flew out of my hand and slit that guys throat then burned it so he wouldn’t bleed

Silena: *playing Minecraft* I walked into your house and your birds started aggressively dancing at me

Lee: That's just so unfortunate for me. That is just so- oh I died

Percy: Wanna go to Toronto? Why drive just take the Earth Quake on natural disaster

Travis: The roof is just caving in on us it's fine

Michael: My arms are broken, my legs are broken, my lungs are broken, my knees are broken, I got decapitated when I was five

Connor: We're gonna die? No we're gonna beat the speedrun world record

Cecil: Hell to go down I there

Will: Mask to mask resuscitation

Travis: I may or may not have accidentally dropped a match in the building on purpose

Nico: Minecraft but I accidentally sets a school on fire

Percy: Minecraft but I die of hypothermia

Piper: Minecraft but I left my eyes at home

Jake: Minecraft but my legs are broken

Jason: Minecraft but I died

Lou Ellen: Minecraft but we're all gay

Will: If I die the game is homophobic

Cecil: Minecraft but I run my best friend over

Nico: I wanna hit a citizen with a baseball bat

Michael: Hey sir, you have Alzheimer’s. Would you like a side of bronchitis?

Silena: Why can't this be straight? Lee: Because you're not

Lou Ellen: mmmm i love my jesus fish Cecil: bro jesus fish Lou Ellen: ikr, jesus moment

[callsignthirsty]

Stuck at the Navy Ball

So… I decided I wasn’t done playin’ with the boys.

As this is a continuation of the original Stuck in the Middle fic, I highly recommend that you read through that before diving into this. Could you dive headfirst into this? Yes. There might be a little confusion, though.

Inspired by a comment someone left on SitM over on AO3.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: You, Ice, and Sli haven’t lost that loving feeling. So when the flyboys are reunited at the 1986 Navy Ball, it's only natural that they bring a bit of chaos with them. Word Count: 4200 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, under-negotiated situations (but everyone involved is fine), fingering Chapter: 1/4 Minors DNI

gif originally posted by neuromancer1888

Chapter 1: Under the Table

The invitation arrives early in September, printed on thick cardstock and addressed to your brother. But if Viper’s words are to be believed—and you’ve yet to hear of a situation in which they aren’t—Pete’s attendance isn’t exactly optional. So the summons finds its way from the trash onto the fridge, rough edges taped back together.

Please Join Us For the 211th Navy Ball. Monday, October 13th Washington D.C.

Cocktail Hour 1700 | Ceremony Begins 1800 Live Music. Food. Dancing.

The same invitation has Carole positively giddy. Born and raised in Virginia, she’s been looking for an excuse to fly east to visit her parents. And for a party? Isn’t that swell! Arrangements are made for Bradley to sleep at his grandparents on the night of the ball before Goose—whose PT-mandated wheelchair has landed him desk duty—is home from work.

Which is how, roughly one month later, you find yourself in Goose’s room at the Hyatt Regency on Capitol Hill, sharing precious mirror space with Carole. Breathing in Aqua Net while putting the finishing touches on your looks.

The hotel calls the four of you a taxi, Goose’s wheelchair is stuffed into the trunk, and then you’re off to meet your date.

Singular.

There hadn’t been a question of if you’d attend or whose arm you’d decorate once Pete’s invite arrived. Officially, you’re at the ball with Ice. After Layton, Ice had made it a point to be seen with you while he was off-duty. Your relationship, which you’d tried to keep on the down-low, was worth showing off publicly after he and your brother had dropped their rivalry in favor of mutual respect. Friendship. 

But the other half of your relationship was still very much under wraps. 

That fact hadn’t stopped you from nodding eagerly when Ice pulled you close to ask you to attend the Navy Ball with him. Ice wants to climb the ladder, and earning stars is more than clambering into the cockpit every morning or disappearing on a carrier for the better part of a year at a time. It’s politics. It’s achieving perceived milestones on or ahead of schedule. And in October, for Lieutenant Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, naval aviator and promotion hopeful, it’s attending the Navy Ball with a woman on his arm.

Pete wrestles the wheelchair out of the trunk while Goose pays the cab driver. As you step into the crisp October evening, you marvel at the palatial, white-stone building that is to be the backdrop of your night. A steady flow of servicemen and women crossing beneath grand archways with their dates for the promise of a good night.

You aren’t left alone to gawk for long before you catch sight of them chatting with someone or another: decked in their whites, Slider leaning against the wrought iron rail and Ice to his side. Ice’s gaze flicks to you instantaneously, as if he’d felt your eyes land on him. The natural pout of his lips morphs into a grin as he excuses himself from the conversation and moves toward you against the flow of the crowd. Slider follows close behind, ultimately making his way to Goose, Carole, and your brother. But you catch the hesitation in his step. The course-correct.

Events like these will be challenging for the three of you—that had been a foregone conclusion—but this knowledge doesn’t make it any easier. It feels all sorts of wrong to have Slider keep himself at such a purposeful distance when you’re used to his proximity. Even at the O Club, he manages to stand close. Doesn’t shy away.

Before your mood can be irreparably embittered, Ice takes your hand in his and coaxes you into a slow spin. “You’re beautiful,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, and a delicate smile lights your lips. 

The dress had been a surprise. Something you’d insisted on buying yourself despite Ice and Slider offering to pool their money for something truly extravagant. But after years spent in the foster system, even the thought of spending money on something so frivolous left a bad taste in your mouth. Instead, you’d taken Carole, your more comfortable budget, and found an old gala dress at a thrift shop. The sleek, black velvet gown up to your collarbones with the slightest sparkle as the fabric shifted beneath the store’s old lights ticked all your self-imposed boxes. A dress fit for an aspirational young officer’s date, even after Carole added a slit up the left side to show a little leg and “bring the dress into this decade.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, squeezing Ice’s arm as it’s offered to you. Typically, the change of season calls for blues, but the Navy Ball is an exception to the rule. You wonder whose wife you have to thank for that because although your boys look damn fine in both, you have a not-so-hidden preference. “And Kerner didn’t clean up so bad, either,” you shoot in Slider’s direction with a playful grin.

“Surprised?” Slider asks, brow raised. You shrug because, no, you’re not surprised, but you aren’t sure what to say that will fly under the radar. And that’s the name of the night’s game. That doesn’t stop Pete from rolling his eyes as he passes you with Goose and Carole on their way to the building’s ramp.

The closest you ever got to a ball before tonight was prom—not yours; you’d been on staff at the venue. Frankly, you’d half expected you and Pete to have been blacklisted, given your father’s ill-gotten reputation, but they let you in without issue. You wonder if Pete’s face appearing on the front page of every magazine in the English-speaking world has anything to do with it, but you keep that to yourself while Ice, ever the gentleman, escorts you further into the event. 

If the outside of the building is beautiful, then the inside is magnificent: all barrel vaulted ceilings decorated with Romanesque gold leafing and warm mahogany. A vast hall that steadily fills as guests arrive for cocktail hour and to mingle before the evening officially kicks off.

Slider spots Carole’s shock of blonde hair by a table with easy access for Goose and herds Ice in her direction. They aren’t alone at the table. “Merlin,” Slider barks, bounding over to shake his fellow RIO’s hand. “I thought you were stationed over the Atlantic. What’re you doing here?”

“Turned out to be an exercise. Over and back in sixty-two days.”

“And just in time for the party,” the woman at his side chips in, and Merlin wraps an arm around her to pull her close.

“Oh! Tom Kazansky, Ron Kerner, my wife, Laura.” Ice takes the opportunity to introduce you in turn. The conversation is easy-going, Ice and Slider filling Merlin in on their time instructing at Miramar.

Slider gets in several quips about Ice having a list of officers whose asses he needs to kiss to speed up a promotion when Ice spies one of said officers. He gently tugs you in the right direction so you can play the part of the doting girlfriend. The officer—a captain—quickly introduces you to his wife before he and Ice talk shop.

You manage to pluck a champagne flute from a waiter’s tray, sipping daintily and nodding along with the captain’s wife. Considering most of your knowledge concerning the Navy revolves around the planes your brother flies and the stunts he’s pulled in them, the conversation goes in one ear and out the other.

Not that it matters. Your role tonight—thankfully—is just to follow Ice around and look pretty.

The captain’s wife finishes her champagne in record time, and though you’re hesitant at first, you aren’t too far behind her. It is at this point, glass empty, that Slider appears like your guardian angel. “Captain,” he nods. “Ice.”

“Captain Reid, have you met my RIO?” Ice asks, knowing full well that Slider has no interest in schmoozing. Much like your brother, Slider is there because it is expected of him. Unlike Pete, Ice doesn’t need his friend’s emotional support or commiseration to make it through such events, mandatory or otherwise. Every opportunity like this is one Ice can use to his advantage. 

Slider offers the captain a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Ron Kerner, sir.”

“Your RIO? I thought you were stationed at Miramar?”

“The perks of winning the trophy, sir,” pride leaks through as Slider says it. He and Ice worked damn hard to finish at the top of their class. “We’ve been together since flight school. When Ice took a teaching position at TOPGUN, I followed.”

“And how does a man of your stature fit in the cockpit, lieutenant?” the captain’s wife asks from beneath heavily painted lashes.

The grin Slider offers her is loose. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but no complaints so far.” The minute narrowing of Ice’s eyes says behave. You nearly avoid snorting, hiding the unladylike compulsion behind the rim of your empty flute, a reflection off the crystal drawing Slider’s eye.

“Actually,” Slider says, hand twitching as if he’s had to stop himself from resting it against your back, “I noticed your glass is empty.” Sli nods toward the bar, an invitation to refill your glass. You look up at him with a grin—a genuine one, not the soft smile that’s grown stale throughout Ice’s conversation—acceptance on your lips when–

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ice’s brow wrinkles, noticing for the first time that you’ve finished your drink.

”I didn’t want to interrupt,” is your bashful answer.

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Ice says. “I’ll come with you.”

”You don’t have to leave.” Slider will take care of me, you don’t say.

Ice picks up on the silent part but blatantly ignores it. His eyes take on that warm, charmed look, tongue peeking out before his lips curl into that honeyed smile you love so much. “You’re too good for me,” he says as if it’s a secret meant only for you. There’s no doubt he means it, but something about the way he’s playing the sentiment up for the brass makes it feel different in a way you’re not entirely comfortable with. No mistakes. “If you’ll excuse us, sir. Ma’am.”

Captain Reid is already turning to walk the room with his wife when Ice’s eyes narrow into what can only be described as a glare at Slider, his arm cementing itself around your waist in a way that probably looks far more relaxed than it feels.

”What?” Slider asks, shooting for casual, but now you’re not sure you’re buying it, either. “I’m just trying to do my part so you can talk to everyone on your list.” The subconscious flex of Ice’s jaw, as if he wishes he could chew out his frustration on the butt of a cig or some gum, doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does go unheeded. “Admiral Benjamin is on your list, right?” You perk up. As in Penny Benjamin? “I think I saw him by the corner with wife number three and Commander Johnson.”

“You know,” Ice says, his grin glacial, “it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you rubbed elbows at an event like this.”

Slider scoffs, though it’s affectionate. “Why bother? We both know my military career ends when you take a desk job. Besides, I think my time is much better spent keeping your date’s cup full.” You’ve all agreed to go to the bar, but no one is moving. The tension between Ice and Slider is palpable.

”Okay,” you interrupt. There’s something off about their banter tonight. You’ve seen Ice stare down many a handful of people since landing in Miramar, but never Slider. It’s enough to raise a sculpted brow. “What am I missing?”

Slider senses blood in the water. Sees the smoke in the air. The grin he gives you is far tighter than the one he gave the captain’s wife. He opens his mouth, but Ice beats him to the punch. “You said something about grabbing my date a drink.”

Slider’s jaw clicks shut, but his grin isn’t so easily wiped away. “More champagne?” When you nod, Slider picks his way toward the bar while Ice escorts you to the side of the room where there’s more room to breathe and a lesser likelihood that someone will overhear when he presses close. “Sli’s upset that you’re with me tonight.”

That’s it? You hadn’t thought the arrangement would bother Slider so much. The three of you had discussed it and mutually concluded that you should go with Ice. That you had to go with Ice. Was Slider having second thoughts?

“Well, not upset,” Ice concedes at the concern that drags your lips down. “But he was talking a big game.”

Color you curious. “What’d he say?”

“Well,” Ice pulls you closer so his breath tickles your ear and you can smell the mint on his breath, “he thinks he can get you off before we leave the building. Steal you away while you’re being my pretty little girlfriend for the brass.” You gulp. Where is Slider with that drink?

”Oh.”

Ice chuckles. “Yeah. Oh. But I’m not worried.” Two fingers find their way under your chin and lift until your eyes meet Ice’s. “I know you’ll be good for me.”

“What’s the winner get?”

”Bragging rights.”

”And?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Ice’s eyes flit to your lips and linger there because he can. Those are the perks of being your date out in the light of day. “Can’t that be it?”

“Could be,” you breathe and slowly wet your bottom lip with your tongue, delighting in the way gray-blue eyes track the movement, “but it isn’t.”

Ice double-checks that no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. “You remember what got delivered the other day?” Your breath hitches. Yeah. You remember the catalog order you’d put in for a remote-controlled toy. The excitement and disappointment that had come with unfortunate delivery schedules. “Single-night, exclusive access once we’re all home.”

”That’s quite a lot on the line.”

”It would be,” Ice concedes, one large hand spanning the small of your back, warming you and holding you close enough you can breathe in his cologne, “but you can be good for me, right, baby? I’ll make it worth your while.” You nod, a little dumb as you inhale teakwood, sage, and sea salt.

It’s sure to be a profoundly satisfying night as long as you can stick to the script.

“I’m not going to make it easy on you,” Slider promises, appearing by Ice’s shoulder.

”Wouldn’t be fun if you did.” Ice’s smirk is all cocky confidence, cracking only when he notices Slider has only fetched two flutes of champagne.

”Only got two hands, Tommy,” Slider says with a toothy grin, “but I’ll keep her company while you grab yourself a glass.” The crystal buzzes with the steady fizz of bubbles, your fingers brushing Sli’s ever so slightly before Ice pulls you back into the throng.

The room becomes more difficult to navigate with each new attendee, but Ice only seems more in his element as cocktail hour drags on. He introduces you to a flurry of officers and their wives whose jewel-tone dresses all start to blend together, brushing shoulders with the men who ultimately control his upward trajectory. 

On his arm, you smile and nod, interjecting where appropriate because, despite the smattering of female officers present, the Navy remains very much a boy’s club.

Still, it’s nice to be shown off so publicly. To delight in the knowledge that Ice’s attention never strays far from you despite his planned schmoozing. You preen each time he introduces you to someone new with a tender look—there are many things tonight that may be manufactured, but that look isn’t one of them. 

An ache blooms in the ball of your foot as Ice delivers on the same script over and over to increasingly dismal company. The throbbing is nothing compared to the pinpricks in your cheeks, though. Beauty pageant smiles are their own form of torture. But this is important.

It’s all for a good cause.

Tonight is important to Ice, so it’s important to you.

You’d do anything for your boys: ignore every sour expression at your last name, force a pleasant laugh along with each rear admiral’s wife, stifle a relieved sigh when everyone is invited to find their seats for dinner.

The flyboys have claimed three closely clustered tables during your absence, forcing others to walk around them as they spill into the spaces between each table, leaning close to make up for the distance forced by post-graduation reassignments. Viper is curiously absent, or perhaps Jester had pulled the short straw and been stuck with babysitting duties.

But there’s someone you don’t recognize at your table, sat between Merlin and Slider, a stranger in your midst. A smile splits Ice’s face when he spots him. “Cougar?” The man stands and pulls Ice into a quick embrace, Ice’s hand on the man’s—Cougar’s—shoulder. Ice makes quick work of introducing you to Bill Cortell and his wife, Maria. “Cougar and I were like brothers in flight school,” Ice beams. “We were supposed to meet up at TOPGUN, but–”

”It turned out for the best,” Cougar cuts Ice off goodnaturedly with a quick nod toward Pete. “Besides, desk life isn’t so bad.” Ice raises a brow at the assertion while Goose lets out a ‘bullshit!’ “Okay,” he cedes, “it’s pretty bad, but I wouldn’t give up being at home with Maria and the kids for the world.” Maria, who is heavily pregnant, rests her hand over her bundle of joy.

The lights choose that moment to dim, commanding stragglers to find their seats, but neither man moves. Slider stands up. “Here,” he offers Ice his seat on Cougar’s left because the two clearly have some catching up to do. Ice takes the seat while you slide over to stay seated next to him, and Slider takes your spot as the lights come up on the stage for the opening ceremony.

By the time everyone is seated and some speaker makes his way to center stage, Ice is only half paying attention to the night’s program. He and Cougar have a lot to catch up on in appropriately hushed whispers. You’re about to zone out when you’re yanked back to the present by a hand on your knee.

Above the table, for prying eyes, Slider doesn’t give anything away. Attention seemingly focused on the stage. Below the table’s skirt, however, you press your thighs together as Slider’s hand massages the skin exposed by the modified slit in your dress. Familiar callouses drawing senseless patterns above your knee. His hand stays there, occasionally giving you a comforting squeeze, like he knows you crave reassurance through gentle touches after being dragged so far out of your comfort zone. It’s nice. Before long, between the buzz of quiet conversation and each soothing caress, you relax back into your chair.

Polite applause fills the room as the admiral gives the podium to the next presenter. Pete and Carole chuckle at something Goose murmurs. Wolfman yawns. Someone coughs. A waiter comes around to top off champagne.

You wrap your fingers around the delicate stem of your flute, raising it to your lips in the same instant that Slider’s palm shifts so it’s wedged between your thighs. Your sharp breath is lost in the crowd as nimble fingers creep higher, never once pausing their massage.

The corner of Slider’s lip tugs the slightest bit up. Smug bastard. When you’re sure no one is paying attention, you give his wrist a tug, but instead of retreating, Slider brushes a finger against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you become hyper-aware of how loud your breathing is, and your brain kicks into overdrive. Can anyone hear you over the clink of glasses? Your nails dig into the meat of Slider’s wrist in surprise, but you’re fairly confident that the rest of you looks normal—suddenly, you’re not sure what that means.

Is this the way a normal person’s mouth rests? The way a normal person sits in their chair? You need to leave, but you can’t. Being good for Ice, among other things, means not causing a scene. Not fleeing the room in the middle of a presentation. Not letting anyone know that while your boyfriend dutifully splits his time between the podium and his colleague, his RIO is pushing your underwear to the side for better access to your cunt. How you’re responding to his touch.

“Hey.” Pete’s giving you a strange look from across the table. “You okay?” From the way he’s pulled a face, you missed the bar for normal, and now Goose and Carole are also looking your way.

“I’m fine,” you hiss. “I-” need a distraction. You mentally stumble as Slider continues to stroke up and down your slit, his fingers spreading the wetness until they glide effortlessly through your lips.

The universe grants your wish when the crowd bursts into polite applause and the mic is turned over to the next speaker. “Isn’t that Admiral Benjamin?”

“As in Penny Benjamin?” Carole perks up, sitting tall in an attempt to get a better look at the stage while Pete bangs his head onto the table. Probably. You’re admittedly not paying attention.

Pleasure zings up your spine as thick fingers nudge your clit. A reward for redirecting the eyes on you. It’s everything you can do not to press your hips into the pressure or let your head loll back with a gasp. And with Penny’s father keeping attention off of you, Slider hooks an ankle around yours to encourage your legs further apart.

You shouldn’t, but Slider has always been convincing.

Ice won’t be particularly pleased with how promptly you gave into Slider’s suggestions, how readily your legs fall open, but that’s barely a blip on your radar as firm circles rub into your clit. The devil on your shoulder whispers that if Ice had really wanted to win, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so easily distracted. 

None of that matters nearly as much as it should when your heart pulses between your legs.

A hand lands on your velvet-covered thigh. Ice. “Sweetheart.” You whip your head around too quickly for the move to be anything but suspicious. Like you’ve been caught with your hand—or someone else’s—in the cookie jar. You try to focus on the cool, grounding pressure of his touch. It’s working, you think, but your leg is still trembling from the effort it takes to keep still. Keen eyes move from your face to your leg, trembling under his touch, to your lap, and then to Slider, where they narrow almost imperceptibly. “You alright?”

With a nod, you reach past your champagne for water to wet your dry throat. “Just taking it all in.”

A poor choice of words. Ever the opportunist, Slider presses a finger into your hole, the stretch delicious and unexpected enough that you almost choke. If anyone catches the color on your cheeks, you hope they’ll blame your earlier drinks.

“I was just saying I didn’t know Maverick had a sister,” Cougar says, this time loud enough for the table to hear him.

“He doesn’t talk about me much.”

“Yeah,” Pete scoffs, “because when people find out about you, this–” he gestures between you and Ice “–happens.”

“You got any other sisters, Mav?” Chipper’s question from the next table over prompts Pete to load a pomegranate seed onto this salad fork. He’s ready to launch, but a disapproving look from Jester dissuades him. Goose flips Chipper the bird in a show of solidarity.

“So when did this happen?” Cougar asks, eyes flitting from you to the blonde on your right.

Slider chuckles and leans into the conversation at the same time as he crooks his fingers. You bite the inside of your cheek. The circles Ice is rubbing into your knee aren’t as distracting as either of you wants them to be. “He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of her since we made it to Miramar.”

Hypocrite. You clear your throat. “About five months?”

“Aw,” Maria sighs in that way so many in long-term relationships do. You try and fail to focus on that as a second finger prods at your opening before pushing in slowly. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase.” Thankfully, Ice steps in with a reply because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears when Slider rubs his fingers against your sweet spot, thumb applying steady pressure to your clit. Your nails dig crescent moons into Ice’s wrist in a last-ditch attempt to ground yourself because if Slider keeps this up, it’s going to take a miracle to keep you from causing a scene.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Viper’s unapologetic quip appears from seemingly nowhere. Your own personal savior. “I need to borrow Iceman and Slider, Maverick and Merlin, Hollywood and Wolfman.”

You shiver at the abrupt emptiness. Slider wipes his fingers, dripping with arousal, off on the tablecloth, eyes locked on Ice.

Next Chapter

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[alastorsshade]

Alastor’s ear pricked up, feeling eyes on him. He wasn’t a stranger to being the center of attention, he was the radio demon after all! But he had grown intimately familiar with this particular stare over the course of the past week.

Already spying his shadow’s petulant expression from the corner of his eye, he knows they’re expecting him to ask the same question he's been asking them for the past week, but he’s in no mood to receive the same evasive answer in return. 

So, instead he refuses his roles and continues to hum an old tune he once heard during his heyday while fixing up himself an early dinner. Usually he preferred his meals to be more raw, but tonight he was in the mood for some comfort food, and what could possibly be more comforting than his own mother’s jambalaya recipe! Why to think of anything else would simply be blasphemous. His mother’s cooking was to die for, and a sinner did indeed die for it! 

He lets out a chuckle at his joke, and almost tells it to his shadow out of habit, but remembers their current staring problem and decides against it. They didn’t deserve to hear his phenomenal humor if they weren’t even going to use their words with him in the first place.

He stubbornly returns to humming. Although the static filter overlaying his voice, flickers with interference even more now, and continues to build up the longer his shadow simply stares at him. 

He was used to staring. However, he wasn’t used to the one staring at him being his own shadow. Not without them at least saying something or making some type of noise. It was starting to grate on his nerves more than he cared to admit.

“i don’t like him.” 

The sudden hiss gives Alastor pause before he slowly resumes stirring the pot.

Letting out a soft hum of feedback. “Don’t like who?” He had an inkling of who they were talking about, but after being forced to endure them dancing around the subject for a whole entire week, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit petty. Sue him.

“you know who” they growl out this time, having caught onto his game.

He only vaguely smiles at that, feeling as threatened as he would if faced with an angry kitten. “How could I possibly know when you refuse to tell me. Now use your words, darling.”

The harsh cry of a radio interference rings out before exploding into a fit of animalistic hisses. His shadow unafraid to show off their outrage and displeasure, but slowly and surely- just as he was counting on- the hisses turn into a singular screech. “that blasted noisy picture box!”

His eyes widened in surprise by the sheer animosity that one screeched held . He was pleased to finally have his suspicions confirmed, but he couldn’t say he was sure as to why they seemed so worked up over his newest acquaintance, Box. 

Sure he was a rather peculiar fella. What with his head being a picture box as his shadow pointed out, but Alastor and thus his shadow could easily squash him. He didn’t pose a threat and likely never would, not with Alastor keeping a close eye on him.

"Oh dear, what could Box have possibly done to get you in such a tizzy." His words were meant to placate, but the shadows around him only grew darker. An indicator of his shadow's mood was merely worsening.

They fume in anger before projecting their image up on the entire wall in front of him. Expanding their form to come off as more threatening.

He could tell they were dangerously close to trashing his bedroom and that simply wouldn't do.

"his name is vox!" They fume out, the shadows farther away from them beginning to whip around in tendrils that possessed a smoke-like quality.

Thinking quickly, Alastor forces himself to appear nonchalant with his arms crossed behind his back. Staff carefully grasped in his right hand should he need to use it. "Is it now?"

For a split second, he watches his shadow carefully. His words seem to throw them off. He's unsure whether that's a good thing but carries on. "Hmm well you can hardly blame me. The most rememorable thing about him is his head."

The darkness slowly recedes from the room, his shadow holding a perplexed expression. "do you not like him?"

Now it's his turn to look perplexed, blinking slowly. "Well I like him enough to not eat him. He can be very amusing." Skilled at bending the truth as he may be, he answered their question honestly. Curious to see where this whole conversation was leading.

"so you like me more?" they slowly ask before quickly tacking on. "i'm more entertaining than him, aren't i?" They inch closer as their form is reduced to the same height as his once more.

Sensing the danger has passed, Alastor relaxes enough to let out a genuine laugh. "Why of course mon rire. No one could ever come close" He can't help but look at them oddly, unsure where all this was coming from now or what this all had to do with Vox. Perhaps a visit to Rosie was due.

In the midst of his musing, his shadow deflates completely from his previous posturing and instead wraps around Alastor like an excitable puppy. Purring pleasantly as his form twists and turns over every curve and angle that makes up Alastor making cooking rather difficult.

Alastor for his part resigns himself to the embrace momentarily. Patting his shadow on his back. "If that's all you needed. We could have had this whole thing taken care of ages ago."

His shadow for his part looks at him strangely before shaking its head and slowly unwrapping himself from him. Although he doesn't stray far from him and instead seems content to watch Alastor continue cooking. Putting on a record for them to listen to and helping where they can.

[incorrectelswordquotes]

Do you remember when the job progression quests had dialogue cutscenes and difficult quests? Each town had its own gear and you'd have to drop blue-background items to upgrade it. And it was character-specific too. Ice statues had to be crafted, and the ingredients would just pile up in your inventory. There was Unique equipment for every region you had a chance to drop after a boss battle, and it'd be shown in the chat. Plant Overlord's accessory was the top trending thing. Rena was blonde and did a flip when she double jumped. The first field introduced was the one between Hamel and Velder. The level cap was 40 and it was *hard* to get there.

I sure don't miss a lot of this stuff, but looking back, it feels like a wholly different game.

i played around when the game was still like this for the most part, except the level cap at the time was 70? and then over time it jumped to 90 but my middle-school/high-school ass couldn't keep up. actually, i remember seeing the new UI the game has for the health bars and that was already enough to throw me off. not that it looks bad, but i remember seeing this UI for the longest time:

vs this:

like as much as i miss the one i got acquainted with, this new one is a lot simpler and cleaner? yet it retains that cartoony vibe with the slanted bars so thats neat. and then there's THIS:

i'll admit i havent played during this era but man this looks busy af. it was simple yea, but something feels off about it. like i love the look here too but it kinda clashes colors-wise. there's not too much of a difference between the original UI and the one after it but i could tell it needed slimming down.

while i was gone i also learned that the previous privately-hosted server VoidEls was shut down but was eventually replaced by another, which is fair enough i guess.

"Each town had its own gear and you'd have to drop blue-background items to upgrade it. And it was character-specific too."

this was both cool and annoying, for me personally at least. it's cool in that every town having gear gave you a way to progress before getting even stronger gear. sort of like a jumping-off point for every town you got to as they handed you their own version of stuff you could use. and you could emulate their aesthetic by wearing their gear. the annoying part is that constantly switching gear means item management is necessary to prevent your inventory from maxing out, and not every item looked good on you. if you didn't have skins? tough luck. (my memory might be wrong here so please correct me if i messed something up)

"...job progression quests had dialogue cutscenes and difficult quests?"

THEY GOT RID OF THOSE!? maybe im jaded but as a writer, i liked seeing the player-characters' personal struggle as they progressed through a job-specific mission. those short cutscenes let us see what they're really like. even if some of the requirements really were trash. i still remember spamming the same dungeon over and over hoping for a quest drop (or multiple) so i can move on. but after hearing the story was consolidated to be one singular, linear path regardless of who you played, maybe they streamlined the job class progression system too?

update: yea it seems you still have to spam dungeons to upgrade to Master Class but it looks less tedious than before for previous class ranks.

"Plant Overlord's accessory was the top trending thing."

boss accessories were the bane of my existence so this makes sense. it seems like it's unobtainable, as many overworld zones and dungeons have since been removed based on what i just looked up

im assuming Plant Overlord isn't fightable anymore or only shows up in some elite zone now so rip

"Rena was blonde and did a flip when she double jumped."

i didn't know this. in fact when i checked her wiki page, the change was because her hair wasn't green enough despite her class art showing her as having green-hued hair.

speaking of the wiki,

holy fucking shit thats a lot of classes

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

Previous part

“Whoooow!! Look at all this!!”

Argus failed to capture Rufus as he sprinted into the tower, listening to his voice become a distant echo.

“And he was the one saying we had to hurry.” He grumbled.

“Well, we have to find a boat now, so a little exploring wouldn’t hurt… right?” Cletus rocked on his heels as he made his case.

He got a deadpan look from Argus, then a sigh pushed through his nose.

“Go on then. But! Be careful!”

“Of course.”

And with a quick skip he too vanished into the tower with a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘aaahs’. He was trying to be cautious in this unknown territory, but as he followed his brothers, Argus could feel the same excitement brimming.

The inside of the building was nothing like Kuvaq. No jumble of junk and metal to make a settlement, but instead a singular building coherently made from wood, metal and other fancy material coloured in green and gold that were (relatively) still in one piece. There were even working lights helping keep the place illuminated as the sun began to sink. 

He found Cletus not too far in, now standing by a colourful wall that seemed to make a picture. 

“Look.” He began to point at parts, “These little guys are carrying big beams up ramps, and to the side these fancy ones, they're making fancy ornaments.”

It made Argus feel uneasy, “Guess it's showing them building this tower?”

“Hmm, maybe. I know which thing I’d help with.” He smiled and ran over to an odd item on the ground, its design elaborate and its function long forgotten, “Isn’t it cool?! Elysium is probably full of these right?”

He shook his head, “I- I don’t know. Where’s Rufus?”

As if on queue, the sound of giggles came from the door at the top of the ramp. The two brothers headed up to investigate, finding a small room filled with lights and machines, Rufus face first in one. 

“This is the coolest. Place. EVER.”

As he pulled back, there was a wad of something fluffy in his hand, which was promptly shoved in his mouth.

“Rufus! You know the rule about eating strange things from strange places!”

“It’s that you don’t.” Cletus helpfully added.

Once he’d licked his fingers, he stuck out his tongue, “Rules-shmools. I’m hungry, and this is food! Here, look-”

He went to another machine and slapped a button, causing it to dispense a fish on a stick, which was collected and shoved in Cletus’ mouth. 

“Hrmf?!”

“Fishy food! Hehe!”

“Rufus.” Argus took the stick before Cletus choked on it, pointing it accusingly at his hyperactive brother, “This is not helping us find Dad. Let’s go.”

The red-head groaned in annoyance, pointing back, “Uugh, I bet I could find one of those up your arse!” Cletus made a small gasp at such language, “Why are you being more of a bore than usual?”

“Because I am focused on finding Dad and getting home in a timely manner, without anyone getting hurt. What’s wrong with that?”

“We’re on an adventure! Adventures are always filled with danger and mystery and unknown things. And they can go on for ages! If you’re too focused on boring stuff like time then what kind of adventure is that?”

Cletus looked between his brothers, backing up to escape their argument. Rufus hadn’t been bowing out as easily in recent times, and he was worried they’d begin a tousle. 

“Adventures are for books and radio stories! And they’re about adults, not a stubborn little trash babies!”

“You take that back!”

They lurched forward, pressing their foreheads together as Cletus stepped back again, “C-come on, we shouldn't be fighting right no-!”

There was an echoing ‘CRACK’ as the floor gave away, and Cletus felt gravity take him down. Both brothers turned and reached for him, but even on snagging his hands, it was too late- they all fell.

After a short blackness, the afternoon sun hit them as they emerged under the tower. At that moment, Rufus saw their target below, and tried to adjust their trajectory by pulling at Cletus’ arm, twisting himself backwards so their positions reversed. Argus thankfully caught on, copying the motion, but also taking Rufus’ arm and twisting to the right. 

It was just enough to drop them into a large pipe, Argus taking the brunt on the impact as they began to slide down its length. After a long minute of holding each other, they came to a stop as the pipe deposited them into a small trash heap. They remained still, panting as they recovered.

“So uh, can we stop falling please?”

Suddenly they all broke into giggles. 

“Sure, let’s just stay as low as possible.”

Rufus pulled himself up first, dusting off and checking their new location. His eyes lit up, though he knelt back down and gestured for the other two to remain low. 

“Hey Cletus, would a pirate boat work?”

He adjusted his hair, “Well, a boat is a boat…” He peered up to inspect.

Argus rubbed at his shoulder, wincing, “But a pirate might not be so friendly…”

He joined the spying pair, also catching sight of the burly pirate in the massive hat, as well as his smaller crewmate, both sporting thick beards. They had two options…

[dawn-moths]

Hi I love your blog i was wodering if you could do number 15 with Undertaker,thank you in advance💓🥰

hi! i recognize your url haha, i’d love to do number 15 with undertaker for you 💕

prompt: watching their oblivious s/o lovingly

character: undertaker (kuroshitsuji)

words: 1900+

content warning: reader’s family was killed in an accident and has some survivors guilt, i put a little more “plot” in this than i originally intended so i hope you don’t mind lol, sorry if this is sad.

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The funeral home is bathed in shimmering, golden light as wisps of sunset stream in through the latticed windows, sun dust dancing in the beams that cast a buttery veil over the surface of shiny caskets strewn about the floor and catching in the bright glint of the glass bottles and jars lined up along the shelves.

A few of the candles are already lit, tiny flames flickering as they hover on the end of charred wicks, rivulets of thick wax making their slow descent towards the silver basins they’re perched in below.

You’ve come to love this place— a place that, at one point in time, had filled you with dread, reminded you of your own fragile mortality— as it now brought you peace.

Maybe it was because you’d become so acquainted with death yourself, had felt its lips ghost over yours with a near-fatal kiss when you’d been on the verge of leaving the living world.

You’d been the lucky one, they’d all told you, because you’d survived.

However, the rest of your family— both your parents and your two other siblings— hadn’t been as fortunate when the carriage had crashed over the cliff side, tumbling down the steep hill into the sea of pine below.

You still wondered why you’d survived while they’d all been claimed by whatever was waiting on the other side of life, but at least there had been one saving grace through all that hell.

Because, if you hadn’t had reason to seek out mortuary services all on your own, you would’ve never met him.

“Undertaker” was the only name he’d given you, still refused to tell you anything other than that title whenever you tried to press him, so, even though his insisted mystery at something as simple as a name sometimes irked you, you’d more or less accepted it.

In the beginning, you’d been wary of him, unable to look him in the face and carful to keep your distance.

But as time went on, as you grieved, as you recovered, and, at last, once your family was put to rest six feet under the ground, you’d found you’d warmed up to him.

Because it hadn’t just been the singular occasion of seeking out his business’s services that had pulled you into his orbit, or the inevitable return after the funeral to pay him what was due and thank him for all his hard work and consideration.

Undertaker had seen your pain plain as day from the very second you stepped through those doors and into his grim domain. He’d seen the fear and the loneliness and the mourning. The guilt and regret one often wears when they can’t help but think, if only I hadn’t made this one decision on that particular day, everything would’ve turned out differently.

So he’d comforted you. He’d helped you feel not so alone and, unlike the other more familiar faces that seemed to pop up to surround you at every turn, offering rehearsed condolences that were so sickly sweet they bordered on condescending, bringing an endless array of casseroles and roasts and all kinds of other deep-dished dinners that most nights had just ended up in the trash because you could barely bring yourself to eat in those first few months after your loss…

Unlike all the others who said what they thought you wanted to hear, did what they thought would help you instead of asking what it was you actually needed, Undertaker had treated you like he understood perfectly right from the start.

You figured he knew the intricate, silent language of death and mourning better than anyone, given that his day to day for who knew how many decades had revolved around it. But you’d expected him to be emotionally uninvested and purely professional when you’d first prepared to speak with a funeral director. So it very much caught you off guard when he’d been the complete opposite.

He’d treated you with compassion, patience, and, above all else, respect. He didn’t pity you, and gave no coddling words about how your deceased family was “in a better place now” or calculated coos making promises that you could ask him for “anything you might need, at any time” like the others who’d learned of your loss when you knew they had their own busy lives to jump right back into once they’d filed out of the funeral and the babbling brook of black clothes and tear-streaked cheeks had dispersed.

It made you wonder who he’d lost in his life, though you were never brave enough to ask.

So you’d found yourself returning to him, drawn back into his somber chamber of half-constructed coffins and gleaming silver instruments strewn about. You’d accepted his invitation to stay for tea and biscuits and felt grateful when he just let you talk about what had happened and how you felt, not feeling the need to interject or give you advice on the proper way to grieve.

Undertaker had sat across from you, secretly studying the distinct features of your face and your innate little mannerisms from behind his curtain of silver fringe, the scar cutting across his face just barely peeking through, and listened.

It was less than any of your other friends or family would’ve considered they’d done for you, but that simple gesture meant more than anything back then.

So when he’d offered you a position as his assistant, promising fair wages and adequate training, though you felt some apprehension at such a serious and, as you could imagine, having been on the other side of it, sorrowful task, you’d ultimately agreed without much hesitation.

Because there was something about being around him that had helped— was still helping— to heal you.

It certainly helped that, the more you two had gotten to know each other, the more comfortable he’d gotten about cracking jokes or making humorous little comments here or there.

Undertaker had a strange sense of humor, a dark one for sure, but as time went on you found that so did you.

You’d since lost count of how many times you’d both ended up laughing so hard you were practically wheezing, arms wrapped around your middle as you clutched the stitch in your side, entire body shaking with the kind of carefree joy that only comes from a good, hearty, unexpected laugh.

“Laughter is the best medicine,” he’d once told you, after you’d suddenly burst into tears after enjoying such a jovial moment, reminded how you’d never get to laugh like that with your family ever again. “Even in the darkest of times, just allowing yourself to experience small joys can help cure what ails you, even if only for a moment.”

You remembered his words often, whenever you were missing your lost loved ones. Undertaker had taught you to laugh more often even if for the sole purpose that they couldn’t anymore, and sometimes that fact alone was enough for you to at least smile.

“Because life is for the living,” he’d also taught you. “You must experience the things that they won’t get to and know that they would’ve wanted you to have a full life.”

So now, as you finished cleaning up and organizing everything in the shop for the day, humming a melancholy little tune quietly to yourself as you moved about, Undertaker leaned in the doorway and silently watched you, his silhouette a tall, billowy shadow as his dark robes draped over his svelte form.

His brilliant chartreuse eyes broke through the cracks in that curtain of silver meant to hide them, and he couldn’t help but grin to himself as he thought how lucky he was— after so many years of solitude— to finally have someone who brought real joy to his life.

Even sweeping the concrete floors, the dusty skirts of your dress swaying about your feet in rhythmic, graceful motions, Undertaker found you beautiful, his delicate, earnest little human.

You were careful around the one coffin he’d strictly told you never to open or disturb, doing a half-turned dance to maneuver the currently cramped space with all that littered the floor, but to Undertaker, you appeared as elegant as if you were the belle of a ball, slowly waltzing about the macabre dancehall.

He’d found new purpose in the life-after-his-afterlife in having you learn from him, in teaching you his trade, witnessing you succeed and fail and succeed again.

You were going to make one hell of an undertaker yourself one day, if and when his jig was finally up and he had to flee this place tucked into the darkest, dingiest corner of London.

Sometimes he thought you didn’t belong here only for the fact that, as he’d half flirted, half joked to you on your very first encounter, “Someone so pretty doesn’t belong somewhere so grim.”

Still though, he was glad you’d chosen to stay on your own accord. Glad that you had a reason to return to him every day, allowing him to bask in your presence, the only ray of light amidst his world of shadows and decay.

When you finally turned and looked over, you jolted a bit as Undertaker’s unexpected appearance startled you, and after letting out a gentle yelp and clutching your heart you found yourself smiling at him.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked, abandoning your broom as you migrated closer to where he leaned in the doorway. “I thought you went home already. I told you I’d close up.”

Humming out a lilting, fleeting note, Undertaker carefully reached a pale, slender hand over to brush some stray, flyaway strands of hair that had come loose from your braid throughout the day back behind your ear, delighting in the fact that you still blushed a little at the gesture even after he’d done it so many times by now.

“I got caught up with something in the back,” he informed you, his voice low and tender, nearly a murmur in the stillness of the room. “I thought I’d stay and walk you home. Make sure you got back safely.”

Undertaker was usually at the shop until long after sundown, sometimes so late you swore he must sleep here sometimes, only resting for a couple of hours before morning peeked above the horizon and tolled the bell on a new day, more work always to be done. (The phrase “you can rest when you’re dead” had taken on a slightly different, more morbid meaning now). In fact, you knew he’d often pull all-nighters, though if he had any bags under his eyes to tell of it you didn’t know. That part of him was still mostly a mystery to you, other than the few times you’d caught accidental glances of such iridescent emerald while you two were working in close proximity.

He’d offered to walk you home a few times before, but you’d usually refused, assuring him it wasn’t far and you could always call for a carriage along the way if you wished. He never pressed you or insisted too much, but tonight, perhaps it was because you were catching a glimpse of those unearthly eyes of his again, reading what you could swear was complete devotion in them, you accepted his invitation to escort you back.

The walk was mostly silent, though you took it more for the fact that the two of you had been working tirelessly these past few days than anything else. However, Undertaker used the window of comfortable quiet as yet another opportunity to gaze upon you.

Oh, how he’d miss you terribly when he finally had to go, and it hurt him even more so to know there was a possibility it would be without warning if he was found out before he could catch onto it.

But he’d spent too much time running from the past and trying to predict the future. All he really needed right now was to allow himself to enjoy the present he shared with you.

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from this prompt list. requests are now closed, thank you to everyone who participated 💕