#and they get to grow old and grey together

[mister-eames]

how do you think arthur and eames would take in other slowly growing old.. I don’t see either of them as characters being insecure about themselves but how the other person would see it is kinda a mystery and exciting.. so how do you think it would go? hugs xx

Oh my goodness I love this question. I agree on them not being overly insecure in themselves - not much, or too seriously, at least. They may lament a thing here or there but nothing that would take up too much mental space.

I know it sounds a bit cliche, but overall I think they'd fall more in love with each other, tbh. Growing older is a sign of survival against an often unkind world. Of experience. It's the sexiest fucking thing in the world to see your SO earn those signs of age alongside you, to say you made it, you keep making it, despite everything life has thrown at you, you are strong enough to survive.

Though, at first, I can see Arthur having a sort of existential crisis about it.

Not because he finds Eames any less attractive. On the contrary, he loves Eames extra padding, the changes in him; the very real markers that signify that they both have survived and they are experiencing this very real privilege to get older and to do it together; that they get to share a life, full of good and bad memories - to trust someone with who you were, who you are, and who you are going to be.

But in that same regard, I can see it finally hitting Arthur in a very real way (kind of the way it hits all of us); oh... our time here is actually limited... isn't it.

Perhaps it's when they're no longer in dreamshare, risking their lives, but it occurs to Arthur in a strange, sudden sense that some day the world will go on without them. That they are in fact, mortal, despite cheating death so often in their dreams and in real life too.

Arthur might be having this crisis at 35 or 45 (probably has it every ten years after his mid-thirties tbh) and he has literal decades ahead of him, but their own own mortality really hits him. He knew, intellectually, and with Mal and Dom, and with others in his life, that nothing is guaranteed. It's just... he feels like he has earned this life with Eames, after all they've been through together and personally, and it's not even that they're geriatric or "old" by any means, but the signs are there - they are not getting younger. They are visibly growing older. There's the greys, and the aches, and the weight gain here, the fat loss there.

The fact is plain and simple with life: there is no turning this car around.

Time is a real thing. One day it starts tick-tick-ticking away very loudly in Arthur's brain, like a bomb about to go off, setting off the same kind of panic in Arthur that says do something about it -- but there is nothing to be done about it. That's the worst part. It's just life, and not even Arthur, point man extraordinaire can mitigate it or stop it.

So Eames unearths the source of Arthur's panic after Arthur takes up three new languages, asks Eames for the fiftieth time if he's sure he won't regret not having kids, dyes his hair to get rid of the greys, takes up trumpet lessons and books them a cruise or seven - and then Eames is utterly bewildered by Arthur's heightened state of existential panic because he's not even fucking old, they've never been better or happier.

At first, Eames is like, "Calm down, dear. Complain to me when we have liver spots and we're both using walkers to get around. Old is just a state of mind."

Arthur, in the midst of frantically planning a new diet for them both sans-alcohol, is not amused.

So Eames asks him, "What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't know... losing time, I guess." Arthur replies. "Or... not making the most of it."

To which Eames asks plainly, fondly, "Aside from spending your days panicking, what are you gonna do about that? What do you need to do, at the end of it all, on your final day, to look back and say 'I regret nothing'?"

"I..."

"Ask yourself: what does your life without regrets look like?"

Arthur thinks, and after a long pause says:

"I... need us to live... exactly as we are now."

"That's good."

"Maybe tell you I love you more."

"And I will do the same."

Arthur takes the deepest breath he's had in days.

Then Eames adds, "By the by, I hear that not being on your husbands back about folding laundry is the key to a long, happy life."

"Nice try," Arthur rolls his eyes, taking his beloveds face in his hand and kissing that cheeky smile. "Speaking of which. I hear helping your husband fold the laundry does wonders for longevity."

--

The press of his lips against Eames and the quiet laughter between them in that moment, is one he never forgets.

--

Later, once all the laundry is folded and they're enjoying a glass of wine, Eames will Arthur that he is wrong. They are not losing time - that every day is more time they gain together.

Arthur will concede that Eames is right, sometimes.

--

As for Eames, well. He has all the pride, heart growing with love, etc etc, but you best believe he has several canvases and sketches and papers with a timeline of every iteration of Arthur, a visual chronicle of a beautiful man, drawn by Eames, over time, in varying mediums.

Not to say Eames has never felt strange about growing older, or Arthur growing older. But he's very much at peace with it, and earned the ability to be at peace with life - and himself. He's not afraid, not when there is so much to look forward to, and so much to learn.

And so many more versions of Arthur to appreciate and adore; on paper, and in person.

--

They both take the other ageing as something wonderful, something to be cherished. We only get one chance to get old, after all, but we get near endless chances to grow older. They don't get it right every day -- that is to say that sometimes life is an alarm clock that you get up and get on with on first ring, and sometimes in life you just press snooze and both is okay -- but they get it right often enough that they can call theirs 'a life, lived'.

So, yeah, they fall deeper and deeper in love with all the signs of age on each other -- it's all the time they've had, and all the incredible time they still have to gain.

[canisalbus]

I love the idea of machete faking his own death and moving to Florence to be Vasco's bookkeeper/ accountant or something. I know it's basically just a fix-it au for your doomed by the narrative dog men, but it makes me happy.

Also I absolutely adore your artstyle! It's very distinct from other furry artists I've seen. Kinda like those drawings in medieval manuscripts. Also I love the effort you've put into making believable acting characters and making them work not only in modern times but in renaissance Italy as well! You must have done years of research on your setting for it to flow so naturally!

TL:DR, I love your dogs, I love your art, and I love your writing. I'm sending you virtual grilled cheeses and tomato soup

.

[ghost-proofbaby]

well i just had an older!eddie idea that is going to haunt me.

[theratisbackanditsinyourkitchen]

I don’t believe I will come out of the “Sam Darlin Turing” convo alright. Cus I believe with my whole heart Darlin won’t say yes and that hurts me. But if they say yes I think I will never emotionally recover

[lululeighsworld]

guess who wrote grelliam again after seven years!!

(me. i did. it's for @reaperzine and there are so many beautiful pieces that are a part of it!!! look forward to its release!!)

[todayisafridaynight]

Forgive Me I cannot stick to one topic to save my life (NODDING HARD AND AGREEING BECAUSE YOU PUT IT PERFECTLY IT'S JUST THAT MY BRAIN DOESN'T WORK </3) but I made myself emo thinking about AraSawa noticing each other's gray hairs for the first time... that's it Send Ask

Actually wait, I wanted to share this screenshot. Somehow I'd always thought Tsutsumi wasn't graying yet, but I guess it only makes sense... he was Jo's exact age at the time, so this is probably how Jo's hair "should've" looked. Unfortunately Yokoyama is salt-and-pepper-phobic because he thinks it looks "too normal"😔

maybe jo was just so stressed 24/7 his hair speedran the greying stage and just became Full Grey the second he hit 50 ☠️☠️

but PLEASE i know arakawa'd be the first one to notice and WOULD make a joke along the lines of jo frowning all the time or like. This Is What Happens When You Don't Take Holidays 😭☠️

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Hey have a request I’d love to see a fic like this:

Dad!Eddie x mom!reader their reaction when their 18 year old daughter comes home with her first real boyfriend turns out it’s a metalhead like Eddie :)

I hope you can do something like this <3

This is so cute, and I love the idea. I just picture Eddie being a complete girl dad. Hope you enjoy. 🩷

Requests are open for the time being.

Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!reader

Warning: none, just some fluff.

A/n: This is fluff, but I still do not want minors interacting with my work. Not proofread

"He's coming over!" Your daughter Julie raced down the stairs yelling out to you.

Eddie looked up from his phone with his reading glasses hanging off his nose. "Who's coming over? He?"

You saw him looking towards you and then back at your daughter. She just turned eighteen a few months ago. She was born on July tenth. Which was also the birthday of Ronnie James Dio. Something Eddie never stopped bragging about saying it's "the most metalest thing ever."

He fell in love all over again the moment she was born. She was glued to his hip. Anywhere he went, she went. If he was eating, so was she. If Eddie got a tattoo, then he was buying her one out of the bubble gum machine for her to match.

He couldn't stand watching her grow up. Seeing her go from this tiny little thing to a young woman was difficult on you both. She had his eyes and dimples along with his sarcasm.

"Oh, uhh, her boyfriend Eddie, remember he's coming for dinner." You reminded him while trying to keep things calm.

"Boyfriend?" He repeated.

Julie rolled her eyes. " Yeah dad boyfriend you know the guy I've been telling you and mom about for like the last two months."

Eddie didn't say a word back. He knew he couldn't stop her from dating. He actually didn't hate the idea of her dating. He hated the idea of some guy hurting her.

That's all it really came down to. He's tried so hard to shield her from all the bad in the world. But you've helped him realize that's impossible, and he needs to just let her learn.

Once your daughter left for the day, you sat with your husband. You wanted to take his mind off of things and just help him relax. He already possibly has high blood pressure. You didn't want to make it worse.

"You wanna go out back and work on your tomatoes? " You got up and started massaging his shoulders.

He smiled and took off his glasses. "I actually gotta tune up my bike, but maybe tomorrow, sweetheart."

"Are you okay?" You leaned down by his ear.

"I'm fine-- I'll be fine." He reassured you. You turned your head and gave him a little kiss to his cheek.

He was still as handsome as the first time you saw him. His eyes have the prettiest crinkles from all of the years of laughing. His smile lines are visible under his stubble. His hair is starting to finally grey in certain parts. You've been together since you were practically kids.

You and him fell in love the millisecond you laid eyes on each other. Your parents hated him at first. They tried so hard to keep you two apart, but you weren't having it. Nothing was going to keep Eddie away from you.

He tried so hard to win your parents over, mainly your dad. Since your mom softened up when she got to know him better. Your dad was a different story. Your dad didn't like his look.

The tattoos, hair, and music he was strictly against. Eddie was used to being treated like that. He was used to people judging him before they really knew him. That doesn't mean he still didn't try to get your father's approval because he did. All the time, with little to no luck.

You noticed Eddie had been in his garage all day. He said he had to give his bike a quick tune-up, but that usually only takes a few hours. He's been out there since this morning. You look at the clock, and it's now going on 4 pm. Julie has been home now for just an hour or so. She wanted to get ready in time to introduce you to her boyfriend.

You know he's nervous about meeting Julie's boyfriend. He doesn't want to seem like some weird overbearing parent. This is her first serious relationship, it seems like. Eddie wants to be protective, but he doesn't want to scare the guy off. He doesn't want your daughter to hate him.

A loud knocking knocking at the front door tells you he's here. Before you could even leave the kitchen to answer it, Eddie somehow is already there.

He swings open the door and is met with a guy not much taller than him. He has short dark hair with a denim vest similar to his old one. Various pins and patches littered all over it. He was wearing an old Slayer shirt underneath with black boots.

Eddie eyed him curiously. "Whooo are you?"

"Oh, I'm um, Noah...Julie's boyfriend." He held out to his to shake Eddie's. His other hand held some flowers in it.

Foot steps come running up next to them both, and it took Eddie a moment to process who they belonged to.

"Dad, this is Noah." Julie took his hand and brought him inside.

"Right-nice to meet you." He finally shook his hand back as he walked past him.

Eddie was stunned. The second he saw him, he got instant flashbacks of when he was younger going to meet your parents for the first time. He wanted to hate the guy. He wants to be this tough, hard ass to him. But now he can't bring himself to do any of that.

"Eddie, come help me with dinner." You whispered.

"Yeah - Yeah, okay, I'm coming." He shook his head and smiled to himself.

"He bought me flowers." You pointed at the vase holding the bouquet.

"So i buy you flowers all the time." Eddie shrugged, still trying to keep up the facade that he doesn't like the guy.

He grabbed a knife and helped cut up some onions. He looked out the window in front of him and watched your daughter and her boyfriend outside. You stopped what you were doing to focus on them, too. You saw how Eddie's eyes had softened when Noah put a little buttercup flower behind her ear.

You and him instantly had memories flooding in from your earlier years as a couple. Where Eddie would find a pretty flower and put it behind your ear. Or how he would lay with you for hours looking up at the stars. You could see he was getting a little emotional about it. More memories of picnics together in the back of his van.

"You gonna cut those onions or keep zoning out?" You nudged him.

"Sorry, I'm ju- I'm just thinking." He spoke quietly.

You went over to him and rubbed his back. "About?"

"I'm supposed to be a dick head to him, but I can't bring myself to be that way" Eddie kept looking out the window, watching Noah with your daughter.

"Who said you had to be that way?" You looked out to where he was.

He shook his head. "No one... I'm just being over dramatic like usual."

After dinner was over. Noah and Julie were sitting on the couch together while Eddie was sitting in his chair. You were busy getting dessert ready for everyone.

"Hey dad, did I tell you Noah is in a band." Julie giggled.

Eddies face lit up. "No, you didn't. do you play?"

"Uhh, well, I used to drum, but now I sing." Noah informed him. He acted a little shy to even have it brought up so suddenly. He felt put on the spot.

He nods "I used to be in a band too."

"Really?" Noah moved a little closer towards Eddie leaving Julie behind at the other end of the couch.

"Yep, I used to play guitar and sing, actually." Eddie smiled and looked proud to be talking about his former band days again.

"I have some old stuff in my garage where my band "toured" for a bit and my old gear." He pointed behind him.

"Can we check it out?" Noah looked like a kid in a candy store when Eddie mentioned his old gear.

"Follow me," He grunted while getting out of his chair. His knees popped as he stood up. Years of hard work finally taking its toll on his body.

Julie just sat there watching her boyfriend and her dad, leaving her all alone in the living room. You were busy in the kitchen cutting cake and putting the pieces onto plates.

"Guys, dessert is ready!" You jogged to the living room to find it empty except for your daughter.

She rolled her eyes "they're in the garage."

You couldn't help but chuckle.

All day, you had anticipated this first meeting to be a disaster. Now you have your husband and your daughters boyfriend playing guitar together. You know Eddie didn't have a mean bone in his body. Even at his cruelest, he was still considered nice to most.

"Think dad likes him?" Julie crossed her arms, looking annoyed. She was being sarcastic. You could tell by her tone.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying hard not to laugh. "He hates him, I'm sure."

You could hear them both screeching from out back. Heavy metal loudly playing, and Eddie's old guitar plugged in. You and your daughter sat eating dessert, trying to drown out all the music. The night ended with Noah being invited back over next weekend. While Eddie was upstairs putting ice on his now sore neck. He forgot his age for a few hours and became that young twenty something man again.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: NANAMI (PT. II)

A/N: Because our collective husband won the contest. Gege texted me saying obviously Nanami would win. He also said if I don’t post a second part immediately Choso gets the boot next season. So I’m doing this for ALL of us 🤗 (I swear, I swear I’m 90% done with H&H for those of you that follow/have tolerated my lollygagging).

C/W: Fluff, Breeding, Mature, 18+

“It wasn’t over…it still isn’t over.”

Lines from The Notebook bubble from your lips onto Nanami’s bare chest. You’re curled onto him like a Cheshire cat. Your pretty, flushed mouth pets him. Followed closely by muffled sniffles. You bury your misty eyes and runny nose into his ratty, old college baseball shirt.

The one washed heather grey from the days turned months turned years of your careful handwashing.

I can get you another shirt, my love.

But I want this one, Ken. It reminds me of when we first fell in love.

Your answer is the same whenever he offers. Pouring all of your being into mending the natural little holes, the frays, and strain that comes with time.

His precious girl.

You nurse his shirt back to health, time and time again. In the same way you kiss him on rainy Sunday mornings. And pull him into the kitchen to dance with you under candlelight. And sneak extra food into his packed lunch on days he has to work overtime.

You are celestial.

With you he’s entrenched in the Heavens.

With you he builds the palatial wings of his own personal Icarus. Flying close, nearly too close, to the blinding warmth of your Sun.

“It’s so romantic, isn’t it?”

You shift up higher on him. Torsos melding together. Both your thighs cradled between his pajama clad legs. Nanami drags his fingers along your delicate spine.

God, he revels in you like this.

“It is, baby.”

Nanami catches the glassy mosaic in your eyes. Worthy of display in the Sistine Chapel.

You quickly bury your head into his neck, embarrassed about crying over a movie you’ve both seen over 10 times.

“I’m being so ridiculous, I’m sorry. It’s the stupid, dumb, stupid hormones.”

You press a cloud soft kiss into his chest and it reverberates down to his thundering heart.

Truthfully, Nanami has spent the entirety of the film watching you.

Tiny wrinkles in your button nose during some scenes, giggles and full belly laughs at others. You try to bite back your sobs. Slap away your tears before they splash against his abs — like they don’t correlate with the same points in the plot everytime.

He purposefully chose The Notebook after dinner because of your reactions. Just so he could fall in love with you all over again.

Just like Icarus.

Who fell from flying too close to the Sun.

Because loving you feels like a blissful free fall. With no ground in sight.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” The words flow out of Nanami. He can’t seem to contain it.

A pretty gasp escapes you. You pull away from the TV to shift closer to his face.

“Oh, Ken. I can’t wait to—“

“Kiss me.” His voice is throaty, laced with growing need.

Such an obedient girl.

Your lips are addicting. A fiend’s paradise.

He surges his hands in your hair while his tongue traces and tastes every corner of your mouth. You whine into him. He sucks on your tongue before taking your bottom lip into his teeth.

“Baby,” You breathe against his lips. Gentle pants melding with his.

Nanami kisses a hushed I love you into your mouth, before shifting your bodies on the plush couch.

His cock has been throbbing the entire movie. His shirt has inevitably shrunken over the years. Where it used to fall past your mid thighs, now it rides halfway over your hips.

Your plump, perky ass has been in plain view the whole night. Nothing protecting you from his invasion except for a thin, baby doll thong. Navy. Like the letters on his alma mater’s shirt.

Because your body is in heat, preparing you for a baby, your breasts are noticeably larger.

Filling out his shirt in the most mouth watering way. Your nipples, hard and sensitive, enticing him with every miniscule movement.

God, the way you wince and squeal when you brush your buds too harshly against him. Or whimper when the supple, puffy flesh of your tits push against his rigid body a little too hard.

His cock bucks off his thigh every single time.

The next 3 days Nanami will be reduced to the most rudimentary version of himself.

He’ll follow you around the house like a lap dog. Burying his nose and mouth and lips and tongue into every part of your body. He’ll grope you. Rub his crotch into you at every turn. Cum from just sucking on your nipples, if you let him.

You two have decided to abstain from sex when you ovulate. Until you are ready to create a love child.

He says you, because Nanami is fully ready, eager, to have mini-yous filling his home with life.

And really, he’s happy to let you dictate your family planning.

But the next 3 days will be torture. His needy, oversensitive heavy cock will drive every thought. He’ll jerk off more times than he can count.

Nanami is on his back now, with you perfectly perched on his manhood. Nothing but your thin panties cupping your precious little cunt. His length tents right up against you, begging for entry.

Both of your warm hands caress each hill and valley of his abs. Little crystals line your wide, puppy eyes. Tip of your nose so deeply flushed from all your tears. Cheeks dusted rose from your sex rubbing against his in this position.

No matter how many years you two have been intimate, you always blush, and squirm, and look away and hide your face like it’s the first time.

And it just makes him want to bury his cock in you. And take you. And worship you. And keep you swollen with his cum.

“How did I get so lucky?”

Again, Nanami means to think the statement but it rolls off his tongue on its own accord.

“D-do you mean that?” The way your bottom lip quivers makes his cock drool.

“My love. Your name was etched into my heart from the day I met you.”

Nanami pulls himself up so that your chest collides with his. You whimper at the sudden contact and the sound decimates his brain.

He crashes his lips into yours once more.

Your sweet mouth is blinding. You immediately evanesce into him. Little “ohs” and little “mmms” escape you in the pockets of breath Nanami allows you.

His cock jerks violently against your warm, dewy folds. Your arousal has soaked through your measly barrier. Now mixing with his, staining his sweats.

“Oh sweetheart,” Nanami husks against your lips. His fingers go to move your thong aside and are now drenched.

“So wet for me. Such a needy girl.”

He circles your puffy clit twice. And you buck against his veiny hand.

“Mmnnggh…oh god, K-Ken..” broken little moans kiss Nanami’s neck, while he pets your soaking wet folds.

“My precious girl,” he muses, fully aware of how pliant you become under his sweet words and light touch.

Nanami shifts his hips upward, just to avoid his legs falling asleep. But the sound that emanates from your lips is mind altering.

The friction from his fingers on your sensitive bud and his barely clothed, steel pipe length bullying into your opening drives you to see stars.

You bury your head back into the crook of his neck. So embarrassed about the way your hips start rutting against his cock. Slowly. On low autopilot.

Nanami grips your fleshy ass with his free hand. Pushing you deeper onto his rod every time you hump him.

“Oh yeah, baby?”

He gently teases into your ear. It’s such a fucking turn on. You rutting against him so desperately. Blushing up to your ears. Trying and failing miserably at fighting your body when it’s in heat like this.

Your nails dig little crescents into Nanami’s back. Small little puffs of air feather his skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” Nanami huffs.

“Use my cock. Make yourself feel good.”

You mewl at his words. Frustrated that the friction you want, need, is escaping you.

“I-I’m so…” words broken by your sloppy, desperate humping. Nanami grips your ass tighter. He suspends his hips upward to help you.

But his adjustments just make you whine louder. Pulling your face out of his neck to glare at him. Little frustrated crystals fall from your eyes. Your pupils are completely blown. Eyelids heavy. Nostrils flaring.

Fucking hell.

He could cum from just looking at you right now.

You need his cock. It feels criminal not to sink into your begging, decadent, pretty little cunt right now. When your body has worked so hard to prepare you to be stuffed and bred.

“I’m so horny,” another salty tear rolls down your pretty face.

And Nanami has to look up at the ceiling.

Because you say things like that.

While dripping around his dick. With your puffy tits and lips. Wearing his shirt that reminds you both of when you first fell in love.

How can you expect him to maintain any decorum?

“I-I-I love you with all my heart, Kento.”

And, he’s off.

You snap his last remaining string of self control in half.

Nanami takes another bruising kiss from your lips. His hands start dragging his shirt over your head. And you immediately moan into him.

“Be gentle with it!” You scold through delirious groans.

He can’t help but smile against your lips. His sweet, tender hearted future wife. So protective. Even if it’s just a cotton t-shirt.

“Forgive me baby, I’ll be more gentle.”

Willing his hands to move a beat slower. He pulls the prized possession over your head and sets it on the couch ledge behind you.

His eyes instantly drop to your sensitive nipples. And you squirm away from his searing gaze.

“My beautiful wife.” Nanami murmurs.

He places feather light kisses on your sensitive mounds.

Your tiny fingers wire through his hair and gently tug. And Nanami’s cock twitches in return. Leaking more of his arousal onto the mess you both have created.

“Can I make love to you baby? All I need is my tongue.”

Grit in his tone almost sharp enough to nick your skin.

You roll your bottom lip under your teeth. Wanton and utterly fucked out, you drop your hand to his crotch for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss from your soon-to-be husband.

“I want to feel you.” Hot desire woven throughout your angelic features.

Your voice calls to his manhood. The last remaining blood in his brain diverts directly to his groin.

“I…” Nanami pulls in a deep, shaky breath.

“I won’t be able to pull out, pretty girl.”

You take a kiss this time, swirling your sweet tongue around his. Nanami melts into your mouth like chocolate. Palming both of your hips with his large hands.

Pull out? He won’t be able to last more than 5 seconds inside you at this rate.

“You’re my husband,” your dulcet voice absolutely fucking his brain.

“And I want to feel you.”

Nanami has to bite back a pathetic whine. There’s barely 3 seconds left before he’s thrusting into you like the caged animal he is.

“Sweetheart, I could…” No, he knows he will.

“I will get you pregnant tonight.”

He offers you the last warning he’ll be able to mumble before he starts.

You cup his face. Place a chaste kiss on his swollen lips and grind onto his helplessly rock hard cock.

“Then let’s make a baby.”

[petriwriting]

Promise. - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Theodore gives Y/N a special gift, reminding them that they are his safety in an unsafe world.

A/N: I would imagine this takes place in 6th year, 'cause you know.. Voldemort. But beware I've been really into writing fluff for my comfort characters lately. This is very angsty. Extra heartbreak points if one of them dies at the battle of Hogwarts, use your imagination.

Late-night walks were common for the pair. Especially when they needed to get away for the night, with everyone going on in their world it was no wonder they both needed a break.

Theodore Nott was under the threat of his father, expected to side with Lord Voldemort, it was his reputation as a pure-blooded Slytherin. Perhaps in some sickening way, he felt the need to clear the family name of his father's wrongdoing. But deep down, he knew it wasn't right. They both did.

Y/n was by his side, as loyal as a Hufflepuff. through everything. On the nights his father became aggressive and violent, Theo came to them seeking refuge. Y/n always welcomed the boy with open arms.

They had been a pair since childhood, they attended dinner parties together, and y/n attended every one of Theo's quidditch games. In turn, Theo was there for y/n when classes were stressful, and life felt overwhelming.

It wasn't until that particular evening that things would change, possibly forever.

The two walked along the empty, quiet streets braving the cold air together. they had both been quiet, observing their surroundings and enjoying each other's company in silence.

"Y/n," Theo finally said, shattering the long silence that had been following them.

"hmm?" y/n's voice was soft, quiet. they were now entering a park square. someplace slightly more private than the streets.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About us."

y/n's heart began to race. surely this wasn't a breakup, how could Theo possibly be abandoning all they had, after all, they had been through? this couldn't be. y/n was so accustomed to hearing bad news these days that it was the only solution their brain could come up with.

"Y/n," Theo turned to them, holding their face in cold pale hands. "I love you, but I don't want to be with you in this war," he said.

"Teddy, I don't understand-"

"Please just listen." Theo insisted quietly. "This is not me parting ways with you, I- could never," he explained gently. "I propose that we run away. change our names, we can flee and start a new life together. without all the dangers of being here."

Y/n was unconvinced and looked down for a moment before locking eyes with him.

"I love you more than anything. But if we stay here our lives will be in danger, possibly forever."

Y/n couldn't deny that fact. The war had already taken people they both loved. It wasn't right to be talking about wanting to get married one day, have kids, and grow old together if it meant they would be living in danger, living in fear.

"It isn't right. We can't just flee. we need to fight this," y.n shook their head gently, partially in disbelief. "no matter what happens." the pair locked eyes and the snow began to gently fall around them, coating the park in a grey glow.

"Then promise me."

Theodore shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a tiny deep red velvet box. It was battered, aged, and torn. but it was still soft. "Promise me, that you'll stick around, no matter what." as soon as Theo mimicked y/n's words, soft tears began falling from their eyes, watching him toy with the box.

Out from the box emerged a shiny, silver ring with an elaborate stone placed in it. something very expensive no doubt. something that was purchased with his father's money. Theodore offered the ring to y/n.

"This was my mother's ring," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaking. "I took it from her things when she,-" Theo gasped quietly, the shaky breath taking the air out of his lungs when he tried to continue his sentence.

Y/n grabbed the sides of his face, the boy wasn't crying, Theodore rarely ever cried. but there was hurt in his eyes that pained y/n to see.

"I promise." barely a whisper. "no matter what Theo, I'll always be right here."

Y/n's soft touch brushed against Theo's cheeks before he pulled forward pressing their lips together in desperation. It was a sweet and heartfelt kiss, like two lovers that couldn't live without each other.

After the kiss, they embraced one another very tightly as the snow collected around them.

"I just want everything to be okay," Y/n whispered. "we'll be okay."

they pulled away from one another, each shivering in the cold. Y/n took the ring and gently twirled it around their thumb and forefinger. "Theo I can not take your mother's ring." it was dazzling. quite beautiful for that sort of thing. "I know how much this means to you." y/n said. Theo was insistent. "I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life, y/n. But I was never wrong about you. I want you to have it, keep it, my end of our promise." he insisted.

"Theo-"

y/n was promptly cut off. "Please take this. you know how much it means to me, you mean more than that." his heartfelt confession made y/n's stomach flutter, it was that same feeling they had when they were younger and Theo would hold their hand or say just the right thing. Theo grabbed the ring and slipped it onto y/n's middle finger.

"I'll guard it with my life." y/n said with another shiver, the later the night grew the colder the chill in the air became.

"Here, love," Theo said, taking off his coat and offering it to Y/n by draping it around their shoulders. "but Theo, you'll be cold." y/n retorted, but Theo was incredibly insistent that evening. "I can manage until we are safe at home," he chuckled softly. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

As the two continued on their path, Theo wrapped their arm around y/n, in an effort to keep them warm and as an act of deep affection. Y/n leaned their head over onto Theo's arm.

[fourmoony]

heyyy read you're looking for requests so here's one! james coming from hockey practice (i love hockey player james) and you tell him that a guy from uni has been hitting on you and stuf. he doesn't get mad just queasy, but then he needs reassurance too!

thanks for requesting, angel!

cw: insecurities, language, unwanted advances

1.4k, modern au, ice hockey James

The tell-tale sound of James' bag being abandoned haphazardly by the door alerts you to his presence. The door clicks shut soon after, followed by a heavy sigh. He's likely exhausted - always is after practice, especially if he and Sirius get caught mouthing off and are punished with bag skating.

James rounds the corner into the living room at the same time you pause your show and sit up to greet him. He doesn't acknowledge your abandoned plate from dinner or the pile of unfolded washing on the arm chair to his left. Instead, he gives you a tired smile and collapses into a heap beside you on the sofa. "Hi, bug." He mumbles, chin tucked into the neckline of his hoodie. Exhaustion seeps from his voice.

"Hi, handsome." You soothe, hand reaching out to toy with the curls at the nape of your boyfriend's neck. They're still damp from his post-practice shower, the smell of his body wash sweet and heady in your nose. "How was practice?"

He lets out a long suffering sigh, leans into your touch, "Stressful. The team isn't where we need to be for the playoffs. Coach made sure to let us know how angry he is about it."

You hum softly, scoot closer to James on the sofa until you're practically in his lap. James likes touch, he likes the connection, the intimacy, the weight of your body on top of his. You're happy to indulge him, the flowers that your boyfriend brings about your rib cage blossoming as his arm wraps around your middle, hoists you fully onto his lap. "What does he expect, you know? Half of his team graduated out, last year. He only has a couple of you guys left and the rest are freshmen." You try to justify James, but it seems the reminder only further sours his mood.

"Yeah, try telling him that. He thinks everyone is just born to be in the NHL, that these guys should already be up to standard, that they don't need the same exact training and coaching that we got." James' voice is thick with coiling tension, even if his muscles seem to be relaxing under you.

You smooth the baby hairs under your fingers, tilting your head until his eyes meet yours, "You're their captain, baby," You smile, "I bet they'd listen to it a lot better coming from you. They like you, look up to you. You be their coach if coach isn't going to step up."

Your boyfriend smiles, the sun peeking through storm clouds. A glimpse of your Jamie. He leans forwards, lips soft and gentle as he presses them to yours. He hums into the kiss, hands squeezing your hips. "Thanks."

"Anytime, handsome."

"How was your day?" James asks, feet stretching out to sit atop the coffee table.

You'd scold him if you weren't so busy quelling the beating of your heart. Any kiss from James sends you reeling, has done since the first time in freshman year. You don't think you'll ever get over the fact that he's your boyfriend. That he loves you as you love him, that you'll grow old and grey together. It never quite feels real.

"Good. Productive. We have a project due for McGonagall's class on Wednesday so I just worked on that most of the day." You don't feel the need to mention that you pointedly worked alone on your half of the project, but James frowns at your words and you know he's going to ask.

"You worked alone?"

"Yeah." You should probably say more, but James has a shorter fuse than Sirius does in general when it comes to you and you don't feel like unleashing all two hundred pounds of ice-hockey muscle onto the arrogant asshole who won't leave you alone.

James' thumb rubs steady circles into the fat of your thigh, his brows hooked upward in the middle a blatant sign of his confusion, "Your group have left you to do all the work?"

"No," You shake your head, "It was just easier to do my part on my own."

James doesn't say anything, but it's clear that he's waiting for you to go on. You sigh through your nose, head falling to rest on your boyfriend's shoulder, "One of the guys in my group has been hitting on me pretty regularly."

"What?" James asks around a swallow, voice hoarse. His muscles tense under you, his thumb pausing it's soothing measures on your thigh.

You shrug, "He keeps saying how he'd treat me right, how a 'pretty girl like me' deserves better. It's all bullshit, so I chose to work myself and just send the rest of the group my sections."

"Right."

It's odd, the way your body reacts to a single word as though it were a slap in the face. Your stomach sinks because you realise James isn't angry. He isn't itching to pound the guy's face into the ground and he isn't insisting you allow him to fix the problem, himself. You remove your head from James' shoulder, find him pale faced and distant. He looks lost, nauseous. "Jamie?"

James shrugs, eyes cold, "What?"

"'Right.'? That's all you have to say to that? What's wrong?" You ask, drawing further away the colder the look in James' eyes gets.

"What would you like me to say? That he might be right?" There's a clipped edge to your boyfriend's voice that you've never heard before, that jolts your body into fight or flight mode quicker than you'd care to admit.

You remove yourself from James' lap, confusion evident on your face as you settle to face him on the coffee table. His feet meet the ground with a thud as he moves to stand. Your hand flies out, a firm grip on his knee that begs him not to move. James gives you a sad look as he complies, fidgets with the draw strings on his jogging bottoms. "You think he has a point?" You ask.

James nods, lips pursed, eyes avoiding yours so evidently it angers you.

"Why?"

Your boyfriend shrugs again, tips his head back and lets out a groan, "You know at the end of this year I'm going to be drafted, right? I'm going to have to move across the country, probably, I won't have a choice in the matter and neither will you."

"We've had this argument before, James. I'm going wherever you go. I don't care where it is! It could be fucking Antartica and I'd still go." Your voice sounds less stern than you'd intended, but James softens slightly at your words.

"But you shouldn't have to just pick up your life and move because of me. You deserve someone who can give you stability and all of their time. I can't." James leans forwards until his elbows are resting on his knees, his face so close to yours you can feel his breaths.

It's an age-old argument, one you and James used to have often in the beginning. Before you knew that you wanted James in your life forever, back when he was trying to push you away with everything he had because he didn't want to risk falling in love with you and having to leave you, one day. The argument lessened the longer you were together, decisions made. You'd made up your mind the day James told you he loved you that you'd follow him anywhere, that you'd give up anything and everything to just be with him.

"I don't want anyone else. I don't care where we are in this world, James. I want you. That's all." You reach for him, thumbs swiping under his eyes in steady motions.

He takes a breath, closes his eyes under your touch. "I can't help but feel I'm asking you to sacrifice more than I'm worth."

And that just won't do. You clamber back onto his lap, legs on either side of his hips and chase his eyes. They're dark in the dim light of the living room, a deep brown filled with fear. "You're worth everything, Jamie. Everything." You tell him. And you mean it.

James swallows, nods. His arms wrap around you, pull you to him until he's falling back into the softness of the couch. "I love you." He tells you, vulnerable as you've ever heard him.

Flowers bloom all along the crevices of your rib cage, pull taught until you're so overflowing with love and happiness that all you can think to do is kiss him. He chases your lips when you pull back, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, Jamie."

"So you're not gonna leave me for that guy in your Psych class?" He asks, a twinkle in his eye that lets you know he's kidding.

You laugh, loud and obnoxious and your boyfriend swallows it with a world-ending kiss.

[williamsracinggf]

✧.* just like dad / ls2 *.✧

little luna sargeant's got her mind set on one thing: she wants to be just like dad when she grows up.

notes: HURRRR THEY WONT TAKE ME OFF SHADOWBAN SO I'M POSTING HERE UNTIL THEY TAKE ME OFF and yes i'm still tagging it under dpm LMFAOOO

“i’m nervous.” logan glances at the sleeping 5-year-old sprawled across the backseat with her koala stuffie covering her face. he sits back again and glances at you, eyes stuck on the road ahead.

you hum and glance over at him, shaking his leg as he twists his body and takes another look at your daughter. “it’s not even your race, babe.”

you hear logan sigh exasperatedly, staring longingly at the snoring kid. “i know it’s her race. but you know,” he trails off, tilting his head slightly.

he doesn’t get nervous about his races anymore. so when the then 4-year-old daughter came up to him after his race in miami talking about how she wanted to register for a karting race this year, he was more than flabbergasted. he remembers looking over at you in shock while you just shrugged and told him, “you heard the lady.”

while you’re not entirely pleased by your daughter’s decision to start karting, you wouldn’t ever dare to be the parent who told her what she can and cannot do. it’s a value that you and logan had discussed earlier in your relationship and something you’ve tried to stick to heavily.

if you have the means to ensure that your daughter can do what her heart desires, then why would you ever deny her?

logan would have preferred for his carbon copy to not subject herself to the brutality of the sport he’s gotten himself into, but he also cannot help the feeling of pride growing in his chest at the thought of his daughter taking after him. there is something so endearing about the way she wants to be just like him — in her words, not his.

“you can always tell her not to race,” you shrug. “no harm in saying no.”

he throws his head back as he gets comfortable in his seat again. “i can’t do that,” he shakes his head, “you saw how excited she was when we signed her up for her classes.”

you laugh. “besides, you’ve got the perfect gift for luna.” you reach over for his leg in the passenger seat, squeezing him as you smile at him. “she’ll love it.”

that’s another thing: the custom helmet that logan had gotten made for luna’s first race ever. your daughter initially only insisted on her own race suit, which you went and got customised together without logan on a weekend he was away for a race.

it wasn’t until little luna had seen one of logan’s helmets on one of your bedroom shelves that she decided she wanted one for herself. but by that point, it never would have made it in time for her first race.

though, logan being the proud dad that he is (and luna being daddy’s little girl), he already had a custom helmet in the works with a much cuter motif. it’s pink and grey with koalas plastered all over it, thanks to oscar’s influence on the little girl during their trip to australia early last year.

“that design was sent in months ago. what if she doesn’t even like pink anymore?”

logan’s concern is valid. the little girl had taken after your indecisiveness, often changing her claims for things that are her favourite every other day. one time she had sobbed for a solid half hour after logan came home with blue raspberry flavoured candy, suddenly claiming that strawberries are actually her favourite flavour of candy.

logan looked at you hopelessly for help, but neither of you had gotten the memo that her blue raspberry obsession was short-lived. he wound up walking out the front door and coming back with a bag full of strawberry-flavoured candies, feeling like the worst dad that he had somehow let it slip his mind what her favourite candy was.

both of you struggled to finish the blue raspberry candy for weeks, having to start giving it away in the paddocks during his next race.

“i’m sure she still likes pink as much as she did yesterday,” you explain, glancing at your daughter through your rearview mirror. “look at her — it looks like the pink panther threw up all over her.”

he looks back at her, almost bursting out in laughter at how right you are. she’s taken the liberty to dress herself in a pink tutu with a random grey shirt, topped off with a bow that held her hair in a ponytail. “are you sure? what if she wakes up and changes her mind?”

your car comes to a slow stop, surrounded by several other cars in the parking lot of the karting track. you turn to logan and sigh as you shake your head. “you’re overthinking this, babe. she’ll love it,” you reach over for his hand, “because it’s from you.”

he raises an eyebrow, staring at you with clear scepticism. being away for weeks at a time didn’t make him feel like a great dad, despite the young girl always clinging to him whenever he was back in town for breaks, always rambling on about how much she missed her dad while he was gone and that she watched his race.

it’s managed to make him feel so disconnected in her life, sometimes even jealous of how much time you’ve gotten to spend with luna as she grew up. he just doesn’t feel like he knows a lot about her, despite him passing the random quizzes from his giggly daughter right before bed.

“are we here?”

logan flinches at the tiny face that’s slotted herself between their seats, clutching his chest while the 2 girls burst into laughter. “you’re sneaky! i didn’t even notice you were awake!”

“the car stopped moving!” luna shrieks, climbing between the two seats to throw herself onto logan. “and i’m excited!”

“of course, you are!” you cheer, reaching over to pat her head. “it’s your first race, isn’t it?”

she turns her head to look at you with a wide smile, her familiar green eyes shining in the sun that hits your car. your genetics hadn’t had a chance against logan’s — the small girl sported identical green eyes and dirty blonde hair, with dimples to complete the mission of being his clone.

“uncle ozzy will be here too, right? with aunty lily?” she scrambles to press her face against the window, hands cupped over her eyes as she scopes out for her parents’ best friends in the crowd outside the car. “what about uncle alex?”

“they promised to be here to watch your race, lu,” logan laughs, peeling her away from the window. he sits his daughter on his lap, leaning back as he enjoys their time in the cold of the car. “i actually got you a present for the race today.”

“a present! where?”

“it’s in the back, but-”

“then let’s go!” luna squirms in her father’s grip, reaching forward to unlock his door. she almost falls out when she opens it, giggling when logan’s grip on her arm refrains her from hitting the ground face first.

she wiggles out of his grasp, logan tiredly looking over his shoulder at you, still sitting peacefully in the driver’s seat. you shrug as you pull down the visor and grab your makeup bag. “you told her about your present. you know how she feels about presents.”

he opens his mouth to shoot back an explanation, but is cut short by his daughter screeching and running back up to his side of the car. “daddy, my present!”

she reaches up for logan’s hand, forcefully pulling him out of the car. he nods, stumbling over himself as he hurriedly reaches back to release his seatbelt and lets her drag him to the trunk of your family car.

“what is it? is it a toy?” she beams, hopping next to logan as he scavages the several bags in the back for the black dustbag that contains her new helmet. “did you get it while you were away?”

“it’s no longer a surprise if i tell you,” logan laughs.

“is it a toy?”

logan shrugs, reappearing with a bag in his hand. luna’s eyes widened at the far larger gift than she had expected. she reaches up for the bag, whining when logan doesn’t immediately give it to her.

“do you want to guess what it is?” he teases, lifting it further out of her grasp.

“no!” she shrieks, now wrapping her arms and legs around her father’s body at an attempt to climb him to get to her promised present. “please, daddy! my present! i wanna see it!”

“how can daddy give you the present when you’re climbing him like a little monkey, my love?” you laugh, coming around the corner to tear her off logan’s body. “are you our little monkey baby?”

you burst into laughter watching the tiny girl screech in response, shaking her head aggressively as she tries to rebuke your accusations.

alas, logan finally gets on his knees to match her height. he holds out the bag to her, grinning when her green eyes stare into his, her body shaking in excitement. “present time?”

she nods, biting down on her lip. “present time.”

she drops to the ground when logan hands it over. she immediately grabs at the bag, tugging it off the helmet and grunts when there’s another layer of paper packaging that shies it away from her prying hands and curious eyes.

when she does get around to it, though, it’s like time stops when she lays eyes on the large drawing of the koala on the top of the helmet. just 3 weeks ago, she had finally come to terms that she wouldn’t have her own custom helmet for her first ever race ( against her best wishes). now here’s a helmet with her name in black at the corner.

she breaks into a mind-curling scream as she jumps to her feet excitedly. she certainly doesn’t notice the eyes heavily staring at your family, but you do, simply shrugging before returning your attention to luna.

“daddy!” she screams, throwing her arms around logan’s neck, knocking him back into the ground. she doesn’t even notice the soft thud when the back of his head hits the car. “it’s pink and there’s a koala! oh, my days!”

you snort at her vocabulary, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t taken george up on the free babysitting in the paddocks whenever you’re there. her vocabulary never fails to shock you, seemingly being the perfect mix of a kid growing up in the uk with a dash of american from her dad’s side of the family.

she pulls away from him, picking the helmet up from the ground and hops on over to you. “look at it, mummy! it’s got a koala on it!”

you feign excitement and shock. logan had consulted you with the design about a month or two ago, asking you for opinions and any additional designs to satisfy his little girl. you’d even seen the helmet just this morning before getting out of bed to make breakfast for the family.

she turns back to logan, who simply grins. “you like it?”

“i love it!” she screeches. she places the helmet over the dustbag on the ground, whirling around to throw her arms over logan again. “it’s the best present ever! i really really love it!” she throws her head back. “you’re the best dad in the world! i love you!”

she grabs logan’s face, mushing his cheeks as she presses a sloppy kiss on his cheeks. “thank you, thank you!”

“little luna!” oscar’s voice makes the young girl perk up, turning around at the call of her favourite uncle.

she picks up the helmet and sprints over to the couple not too far away, stopping in their tracks when she practically throws herself into oscar’s arms with the helmet in her hands. “look what daddy got me!”

oscar and lily immediately gawk at the girl’s amazement of her dad’s present, showing them all of the things she’s noticed since she laid eyes on it about 5 minutes ago.

logan finally turns to you, sighing in relief. he rests his head on your shoulder and you chuckle as you wrap your arms around him and pat his back. “you’re too hard on yourself, love,” you hum, swaying slightly as you take a quick glance at luna, now surrounded by alex and george who are also congratulating her on her first helmet. “she sees you, you know.”

he pulls away and leans into your touch when you cup his cheek. perhaps he’s too hard on himself. but when you’re away from your daughter most of the year, you’re bound to start thinking that you’re no better than an absent parent.

“i just always feel so disconnected from you guys.” he clenches his jaw, throwing himself over your smaller frame again to hide his face in your hair. “i wish i was around more. it feels like i’m losing her with each day i’m not around.”

“she talks about you all the time and how cool you are.” you pull away and grin slightly, caressing his cheek with your thumbs. “look at her — entering her first karting race. she goes on and on about being just like daddy. you’re her hero.”

logan raises his eyebrow and clenches his jaw. “again — i wouldn’t say i should be her role model when it comes to racing.”

“you can’t change her mind,” you shrug, forcefully turning logan around to look at luna, now in fits of giggles as oscar helps her to try on the helmet. “you’re always with her even when you’re not.” you rest your cheek on his arm, wrapping an arm around his and intertwining your fingers together.

“i just miss you guys so much all the time.” he throws his head back with a groan, turning back to you. “i miss you all the fucking time.”

“don’t be like that.” you tiptoe and pucker your lips, giggling sheepishly when he bends down to press his lips on yours. “luna loves watching the races and she looks forward to you coming home with trinkets and candy. she never forgets you.”

before he can answer, a hand is hitting his thigh, forcing him to pull away to look down at what’s cut your intimate time short.

the girl looks up with her helmet on, her small hands struggling to pull up the visor. “daddy, mummy, look.”

“oh, luna, you look so cool!” logan gushes, helping the girl lift the visor.

her cheeks are mushed in the helmet, green eyes shining through as she throws her head back with a loud giggle. “as cool as you, daddy?”

“even cooler!” logan bends down, taking the young girl into his arms. he hoists her into the air, and then sits her on his hip before reaching for your hand. “come on, let’s get ready for your first race, lulu.”

@cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification

[cowyolks]

IN DEATH’S HANDS

PART ONE OF TWO

Pairing: Grim Reaper! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: You survived that car crash. Despite all the doctors saying you should have been crushed like a soda can. It shouldn’t have been possible, but you had a strange suspicion it had something to do with the cloaked figure that followed you everywhere.

Words: 5.7 K

Warnings: Mentions of Death and dying, stalking, gore, car crashes, deception, protective Simon.

You had considered yourself to be abnormal since you learnt to comprehend your own thoughts.

It started when you were little, sat politely on an old wooden pew, termite bitten and nearly rotting. Worn cloth was placed over the wood, proving little cushion or support. Odd and depressing music relayed through your ears, the mournful toon of an organ, and the slow chanting of hymns covered by sorrowful hiccups.

You were too small to register loss, to feel the grief of not seeing your grandmother again. So you sat, swinging your legs in a continuous loop, cheap pen held between your fingers as you crudely sketched upon a faded bulletin.

You drew your latest fascination, the black-robed figure that stood over your grandmother the last couple of days. Face covered and massive scythe in hand.

It didn’t speak, it didn’t grant you any attention, it didn’t even look to be breathing.

All it did was loom.

Something inside yourself screamed, instructing you to not draw any attention to its haunting aura. To avoid the blowing shadows of its cloak and not stare at the chilling gleam of such a powerful weapon.

It cornered your grandmother once you left the house, tiny hand holding onto your mother as she took you back home after her shift at work.

You were the one that found her, body still and cold as you went to show her your new toy. You called for your mother after she wouldn’t answer from your tugging on her frigid and stiff fingers.

You were beyond confused when your mother ushered you away, shutting the door behind your grandmother and letting fat tears fall down her cheeks.

Later, she had told you that you wouldn’t see grandmother again, that she was dead.

But as life goes.

People live, they flourish, they attempt to imprint their memory into the hearts of others before they are stomped out like wilted roses.

Death was nature, something that always occurred and a stone-cold constant that no one could best. Yet, it still didn’t describe the dark wordless figure that followed you, or the fact that you were older but hadn’t shown any signs of aging since your 25th birthday.

While your friends, the same age as you, began to grow grey hairs with soft crows feet imprinting their skin.

They always asked your secret, and all you could do was shrug, truthfully you didn’t know.

Candlelight flickered eerily in front of your face, a large three and two placed gently down on the table by your generous coworkers.

You likely wouldn’t eat the chocolate cake, seeing as you were still working and all. You never ate in the morgue. It was a superstition that just felt right, you couldn’t see yourself taking sustenance when the corpses couldn’t.

“Make a wish!” Dana clapped her hands together as her and Mark finished the last chorus of Happy Birthday. You didn’t believe in wishes, but regardless the candlelight made you twitch, not liking the idea of fire being around all the embalming chemicals in your office.

You blew them out perhaps too quickly.

“What did you wish for?” Mark asked, leaning closer with a curious glint in his eyes. He liked you, it was rather obvious from his puppy dog eyes and the fact he politely asked you out this weekend. You always found some excuse for his advances, not looking for a relationship.

He was good looking with curly dark hair and forest green eyes. Certainly a reliable worker as well, someone who was kind while also getting the job done.

You should have been happy to hop in a relationship with him, at least maybe go on a date or two. But something in your mind always made you hesitate. Perhaps it had something to do with the looming figure always stepping closer when the two of you spoke.

“Aren’t I not supposed to tell?” You asked lightly, shaking your head when Dana offered you a slice of cake.

She huffed, but knew of your rule. Instead she handed it over to Mark, who happily took a small bite with the flimsy plastic fork. He swallowed, “I guess not. Do you have anything planned for your birthday?”

He shifted a few inches closer, the movement didn't make you uncomfortable. Actually, it was almost comforting to feel the warmth of his skin through your white coat.

"No, I was going to order takeout." You shrugged.

Birthdays had always left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was one year closer to death, one year closer to being put on a cold table and embalmed like you did to constant others.

The cloaked figure swayed at your revelation, as if it could actually hear what you were thinking. Your eyes briefly caught on the bleach white of bone, the color contrasting against the hood like a mask. Maybe it could hear what was going on in your head?

“Well, you have to go out for your birthday!” Dana insisted, pointing the dirty spatula towards you in disbelief.

You sighed in displeasure. Honestly, eating greasy takeout and watching cheap rom coms sounded better than going out, but the look on Mark and Dana’s faces had you pondering as you pursing your lips.

“Fine. But I want to be home by eleven,” you grunted, watching as your two coworkers tried their best not to burst in excitement. You were so engrossed in their expressions you missed the chilled sweeping of black fabric.

It came so abruptly you couldn’t help but let out a little yelp, the coldest sensation you had ever felt had settled upon your flesh. It took a moment to catch your breath, the frostbite-like pain shooting through every nerve until it zeroed upon your wrist. Teeth gritted, crunching down on the crowns. You glanced down in horror at bleached bone—resembling of human phalanges, connected to the cloaked figure who loomed over you like a chilling shadow of dread. Like cutting thorns and blood-suckling leeches.

Not even a gasp or inhale could escape your body.

It’s the first time the specter had acknowledged you, just as it was the first time you had really engaged with it, round eyes meeting the shadow beneath the hood.

Frosted eyes flashed, so ghoulish and hair-raising you were sure you’d faint. The bones around your wrist tightened, before the figure stepped back and muttered something so low you could not hear, but could only feel the rattling vibration of sound against your quickening pulse.

“Hey! You okay?”

With a snap much like a rubber band, you flew back to reality, rounded eyes settling upon the chocolate birthday cake. A quick exhale, and you fell backward against the chair, huffing.

“Uh yeah, I just…I don’t feel well.” You managed to explain to a hovering Mark, who now stood in the same spot as the figure.

His lips pursed in concern, his large hand going to gently cup upon your forehead, feeling for a fever. He was too kind for his own good.

“You feel ice cold, go take the rest of the day off, I’ll pick up where you left off.” He voiced, removing his palm and placing it nervously upon his knee. You sighed, not enjoying the thought of taking a sick day, regardless of almost being done.

“Don’t even think about staying, we expect you to get some sleep and be ready to leave to go party at 7.” Dana tutted motherly, as she always tried to do when you worked too hard.

With a final huff, you nodded, going to stand up shakily.

“Do you need a ride home?” Mark asked, still attempting to conceal some of his worry. You shook your head, already feeling guilty about leaving in the first place. "Uh, no, I can walk. Besides some fresh air could do me some good." You offered, before hesitantly placing your hand upon the door after grabbing your bag from under your walnut office desk.

"Are you su-"

"Go," Both Mark and Dana spoke, echoing thorough the small office. You let out a weak chuckle. "Okay."

You stepped out of the mortuary, shielding your eyes from the beating sun. Little breeze blew throughout D.C, but despite it, you were happy to be out in the heat, away from the chilling freezers that kept the bodies from prematurely rotting.

It was a short walk home, through the very busy streets, so you felt comfortable enough around all these people to not get kidnapped or robbed. You lived in your small condo off the Potamic, high enough you could see boats cross the dirty rippling waters.

You huffed, beginning to make your way down the cracked sidewalks without completely losing your mind. Whatever the creature was, it had made a point to grab you, to suck all the warmth from your flesh in its threat. The cloaked figure had never acknowledged you besides the cool stares it occasionally froze you with... but this, this was an entirely new playing field.

In this case, you couldn't help but to feel like a pawn instead of a king.

You startled as you felt a shoulder bump against your own, knocking the wind out of you and having you fall back onto your ass. You collided with the rough cement, your tailbone throbbing in retaliation. What a birthday you were having.

"Hey! Watch where you're-" you cut yourself off as you glanced upward, behind the complaining stranger you had collided with. There the figure appeared again, this time levitating near the steps of an old library, one you frequented in.

The figure's hood was pushed higher than it typically was, skeletal features barely visible, but pearly eyes like freezing blizzards bit back into your own stare. You stood there for what could have been hours, perhaps even years before the robed figure moved. His head declined at an angle, a gesture most commonly associated with 'follow me", before it floated into the library.

You blame your constant curiosity and yearn for the unknown for taking a hesitant step forward, up those familiar crumbling steps.

Immediately you are hit with the aroma of coffee beans and printed paper. Before this scent would comfort you, now it leaves you on edge. Your head was on a swivel, searching for the robed creature, but when you couldn't find him, you deflated in surprising defeat, why were you upset you couldn't find a ghost no one could see but you?

You took a left down the historical aisle, one of your absolute favorites. It was fascinating learning of different cultures and how they viewed death, how they mourned and what religion they practiced. Would it be heaven, resurrection, eternal damnation as a deity or God dragged you to a version of Hell?

Could it be Thanatos, or Hel, or maybe even.....

A heavy book dropped to the floor, as if it was pushed on its own. The dark cover mocking you with words red like crimson.

The Origin of Reaping.

The Grim Reaper. A deathly figure everyone seemed to idolize in horror movies, tv shows, and comic books. Kids dressed up as him for Halloween, swinging plastic scythes at their siblings. The figure was even in Sunday morning Cartoons.

Your mysterious figure happened to have a few too many of the same characteristics, as impossible as it sounds.

With a final glance around the section, making sure no one saw the book fly magically to the ground, you picked it up by the beaten spine, shuffling over to a cushioned seat and sitting with a quiet exhale.

You opened it randomly in the middle, a particular passage catching your attention,

Reapers can come in many forms, some even taking shape of a persona their prey finds to be most attractive, as this likely assists in retrieving souls. Other modern depictions display a dark cloak and iron scythe used to reap.

Your mouth was left agape with every word you read, the impossible pieces carving into place in your mind, despite how crazy it sounds. You flipped another page, eyes drinking in the text as if you were parched.

It is said that Reapers are only seen when their prey is close to death. Although there is some occasion of ‘seers’ appearing throughout history. It is said that seers could spot certain deities since birth or a tragic event. In history, Edgar Allen Poe, William Shakespeare, Frida Kaleo, Queen Mary I, and many others all reported seeing signs of reapers or beings with similar characteristics.

Seers often can predict who dies with their ability of watching a reaper touch its prey. No one knows why they're able to see what they do, but the gift is sought out by thousands for the unique information of knowing how and when death will occur.

Your knuckles were growing white amongst the yellowing pages at every passage you read, gathering more of an understanding in these last 10 minutes than you had your whole entire life. But why? Why would your reaper lead you here, to learn more about him?

With a final turn you eyed a last passage, the font in a starling bold,

If one suffers the touch of a reaper, it will only be a short period of time before death.

A frozen chill set over your body again, throat constricted and unmoving as no air expelled from your lungs. The deity had touched you, the bony fingers clutching your wrist in a permanent sentence. Your limbs were frozen as the world seemed to disappear, the very air drowning. You were going to die, and soon.

"Hey, love. Alrigh' there?" A deep Mancunian accent startled you from your shock. A tiny yelp left your tightening throat, breaking you out of your trance as you glanced upwards to the voice.

He was undeniably handsome in a ruggish way. He was by no means pretty, but captivating enough to distract you for a moment. He had light hair, stubble covering his scarred face and framing his smashed nose that had been broken one too many times. His eyes were a rich brown, devoid of emotions, despite the fact that he had just voiced concern. He was dressed sloppily, dark sweats hanging low from his hips and a black hoodie to match.

Rugged, but certainly your type.

“Oh, ummm.” You blinked, falling back into the present with your cheeks burning from your blunt stare. “Yes, yes I’m fine. Just… it’s been a long day.”

His head bobbed, tongue licking his dry bottom lip quickly. “Aye, it has, hasn’t it?”

You chuckled nervously, never one to enjoy speaking to strangers or engaging in small talk. The man seemed to connect the dots, but still, he held out his hand, visible calluses littering his large palm.

“Simon.”

You nodded, reluctantly saying your own name before hesitantly reaching out to grip onto his hand. As your warm skin brushed upon his, you jolted, feeling the same icy cold temperature that led you to your crazed state in the first place.

Your eyes rounded, just as Simon’s eyes flashed in curiosity. You ripped your hand out of his grasp too quickly, standing before your legs could catch up to your body.

"Uh, it was nice meeting you, Simon. But I have to go."

He nodded, further displaying the scar running down his cheek and ending near his lip. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, this is my favorite section, and one of my favorite books." His deep voice bided goodbye warmly, although you couldn't stop your hairs from raising and your pulse from skyrocketing like hiding prey.

"Right, well goodbye." You lowly spoke, plastering on a fake smile before rushing to leave the aisles and head for your apartment to rest. As you walked home, you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, dread filling every nerve of your body.

The annoying buzzing of your alarm woke you from your sleep, something you had desperately needed. Your hand slapped the off button, effectively killing the noise. You felt better despite the twilight that had already set in. Darkness had flooded into your bedroom, the moon illuminating the river, casting eerie shadows across your wardrobe and bookshelf.

With a sigh, you pulled back the silk covers, yawning and stretching before making your way to your walk-in closet.

Your phone's ringtone rang through the small space, making you jump and realize just how paranoid you've became.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how you feeling?" Dana's cheery voice broke through the device, making you relax slightly.

"Better, I got some rest. When are you picking me up?"

"Oh, I'm not. Mark is."

You sighed, but couldn't stop the gentle smile that fell onto your lips. It came as natural as it could. "You set me up.” You put the pieces together. “Are we still going to the same place?"

"Of course, I'm not that mean. What are you wearing, birthday girl?"

“Haven’t thought about it. Probably just a nice blouse and jeans.”

You could hear her scoff through the phone, an offended tut escaping as well. “Hell no, it’s your birthday, and the last time you wore a dress Mark was basically drooling, and I’d love to get a picture this time.”

A short laugh huffed out of both of you, just as your fingers trickled further back in your closet, feeling the fabrics of the dresses you only wore for conferences and the occasional luncheon.

“I’ve got this black one, short and sparkly, you’d like it.” You informed Dana, pulling the dress from the hanger and holding it out to inspect.

“Perfect! I told Mark to pick you up at seven, so better hurry!”

You checked your phone, white font glowing, 18:09. You had about fifty minutes give or take. That was plenty for someone who rarely cared about appearance.

“See you there.” You bided farewell before clicking the red button, effectively cutting off the call.

It took little time to get ready, slipping on the dress that just nearly passed your ass. This one, you decided, was from your rebel years as a teen. Now you’d never wear anything that short or revealing as it pushed against your breasts.

You lightly dusted some make-up across any blemishes, and did your hair as best as you could before snatching your purse. Eyes flickered around the condo, making sure there was no sign of your ghoulish companion.

Thank God—he wasn’t there.

You hobbled, slipping dark stilettos upon your feet, making sure to not completely trip down the stairs as you spotted Mark’s navy BMW sitting at the curb. The man popped out of the driver’s side as you approached, mouth visibly popped open at your difference in wardrobe.

He looked quite handsome himself, an ironed white button down cuffed at his forearms, and black slacks accenting the whole look. He’d done his hair, styling it perfectly to accent his handsome green eyes and rich olive skin.

"H-hey, wow." His hand went to the back of his neck, likely rubbing the nervous sweat that gathered there. It was cute, in a childish crush kind of way. He opened the passenger side door, gesturing for you to step in. "You look beautiful." He sighed out, as if it was taking all his strength to spit out the words.

You chuckled brightly, daring enough to reach upwards and kiss his stubbled cheek, smelling the addicting bergamot cologne he wore. "And you look handsome." You climbed into the car, relaxing against the cool leather seats and smoothing your dress as Mark shut the door behind you.

As he opened his own door and climbed in, you could see the cute dusting of red on his cheek.

You sat in comfortable silence, riding for nearly ten minutes before you arrived at the small pub Dana had always spoke of in high regard. It was proudly Irish owned, known for having the best Shepherd's pie in all of D.C.

Perfectly your scene instead of a busy and loud nightclub.

Mark pulled the car into park, huffing a sigh before he turned. "Ready for some fun?" A soft smile was easy to come by, as was the aura of feeling safe in his presence.

"Only until eleven." You reminded him with a smirk, you could change your clothes, but you couldn't change who you are.

"Only until eleven." He repeated, amusement coating his words as he turned the key and stepped out. You opened the door after him, stepping beside him before making your way inside.

Immediately the whiff of beer and sweat flooded your senses, making you wrinkle your nose in protest as you adjusted. Mark let out a little cough, seemingly adjusting as well.

"Do you see her?" You yelled over the live band, hoping to spot the long braids Dana always styled to perfection. Mark, being taller than most, easily spotted her, "I see her!" He shouted, lightly going to grab your hand in his, the warmth of his skin welcoming.

Both of you weaved through people until you reached Dana, who was viciously guarding two barstools next to her. "Fuck off, dude, I already told you these spots are taken!" She snapped, poison dripping off her words as she glared.

"Easy..." you deescalated the situation, watching the man storm off as you took the seat at the end, Mark sitting in the middle. "Hey, you made it!" Dana's mood automatically switched, a cheery and blinding smile once again on her face.

She automatically reached over, pushing a red shot towards you with a giggle. "Get started, I've been waiting to see you hammered for like five years now."

"Alright, Alright." You giggled as well, picking up the shot and downing it only with a slight wince. It’s been way too long since you’ve partied.

“So, Mark, what do you think of the Birthday Girl’s outfit?” Dana quipped, obviously wanting to see the man’s cheeks glow red. It worked, his cheeks warming and pupils dilating.

He cleared his throat after taking a sip of his beer, "I see what you're doing, asshole. And for your information, she looks beautiful, I already told her that."

"Asshole? How about you come play this asshole in pool?" Dana challenged, a smirk on her red lips as she glanced back to you with a playful expression. "Wanna play too? You can partner up with Mark, he'll need the help."

Mark flicked her across the forehead, a small smile pulling at your lips at her muted ‘ow’.

“Go ahead and play, I'll stay here and play the winner." You compromised; far more interested in people watching anyways.

"You sure?" Mark asked. Your heart fluttered at his concern, but you nodded anyways. "Go ahead." You vaguely heard the trash talk from Dana as the two of them left to find a table and scavenge for quarters.

A sudden brush of leather scraped across your bare shoulder, the cool material causing goosebumps to spread across your flesh as you turned, a scoff escaping you as you noticed two more barstools open and the stranger took the one next to you instead.

"Whiskey." His deep voice sounded oddly familiar, as he adjusted on the seat, legs spreading wider as his kneecap bumped into yours. An annoyed huff left you as you scooted a couple inches away, so your ass was nearly hanging off the seat.

"What kind?"

"Irish, one for the lady as well." His head tilted to you, just as you caught a glimpse of the familiar light hair and raised scars from earlier. The man in the library, Simon.

"Oh, thank you." You awkwardly mumbled, settling for fiddling with your thumbs under the table. His eyes, the color of coffee beans crinkled, visible amusement dancing between the flickering lights.

"Welcome, dove."

The bartender set the two glasses in front of you, happily taking the green bills Simon offered. You watched as he gripped the glass, hand swallowing the material as if it were puny. He extended it to you, offering a toast. You picked up your own glass of amber liquid, if only to spare you the embarrassment.

"To life, we all have it, and sometimes it may kick us down. But here's to kicking it back." The glasses clinked, and you swallowed the alcohol with a cough. Simon's jaw ticked as he swallowed his, no wince visible, or even the twitch of an eyelid.

You wiped your lip softly, careful not to mess up your lip gloss. "So, what's the coincidence of finding you in two random places all in one day?" You joked, but honestly wanted to know the answer, to breakdown this stranger just as you did in the morgue.

"I like this place, reminds me of home." He gestured vaguely, his deep voice mellow and calm. "Where's home?" You questioned, interrogation being one of your many bad habits, it's a wonder how Dana and Mark even became your friends.

"Manchester."

"This is an Irish Pub." You deadpanned.

"Clever bird." He matched your sarcasm, something you found shamefully attractive. "Ireland is closer, eh? And don't tell a soul, but the brew is better there." A deep chuckle rumbled through him, his hefty shoulders vibrating with the sound. He was massive, muscle rippling off of him and filling him out, despite his tall appearance.

And his accent.

"Your secret is safe with me."

His lips ticked upwards for a moment, before dropping again. "So, what brings you to a place like this? Quite a different scene from the library."

"It's my birthday, my friends wanted to celebrate."

"But you didn't, eh?"

You sighed, nearly startled by how well this stranger could read you. lips pursed, you glanced at him through your eyelashes, then turned to see Dana lining up a shot as Mark strategized his next move.

"No, not really. But I haven't been feeling myself lately, I thought it would help to go out. To feel again, to know that I am here." An embarrassed chuckle escaped you, "I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that."

Simon shrugged, "I've heard worse."

A loud celebratory cheer broke out, you turned spotting Dana pumping her fist after hitting the 8 ball in. Mark huffed in defeat, forest eyes latching to you with a soft smile. Wanna play? he mouthed over the music.

You shook your head, gesturing for the two of them to play again. Mark frowned but didn't push on the matter. You sure?

Yes. You mouthed back, before turning back to Simon, cold eyes watching the scene unfold in curiosity.

"That man really likes you." He observed, rough fingertips tapping on the table, if he pushed any harder you were sure it would cause the wood to indent.

"Oh, yes. He's a great guy, handsome and kind. Smart too, he just..." You trailed off, chewing your lip as you tried to ponder for a word to say that wasn't too harsh.

"He doesn't give you that spark. Of excitement and mystery." Simon finished for you, tilting his head downwards as he studied your expression. You hummed, heart beating a little faster at the revelation.

"And you could?"

"I didn't say that, Dove."

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment rippling down your spine at such an accusation, and how he had been so quick to make you to squirm. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you felt the sudden sense to get up and go play a game to avoid more teasing.

"Needa smoke, want to come out with me?" He offered just as you were about to stand and walk away. You struggled, wondering if you should run like prey, or put your hands into the beartrap and hope it didn't close on your bones.

"Smoking is bad for you." You quipped but followed behind his heels like a wounded puppy. A chuckle vibrated through him again, teeth flashing as he held the door open for you. "And I know it."

You stepped out into the chilly air, a pleasant change compared to the stuffy bar. Your arms wrapped around your waist; elbows leant against the rickety iron railing. Simon fished in his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter with an exhale. A quick flick and a flame sparked, settling upon the paper as the scent of tobacco aired.

He placed it between his lips, the red cherry glowing before he released, exhaling smoke from his nose and mouth. You'd think it was hot, if you couldn't smell it, or know how bad it was for him.

"So, what's your story, oh mysterious stranger?" Your heels pinched at your feet, you couldn't wait to get them off and back into slippers. Another exhale of smoke as he glanced down, the lamppost catching the reflection of his eyes, making them look almost white.

"No story. Joined the British military when I was 18, retired, here I am." He spoke with amusement, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. It wasn't, the military was no joke, just death and bullets, and if they happened to survive, they could still hear those bullets at home.

"It takes guts to serve, a lot of death." You sympathized, knowing it would be impossibly hard to watch the people you called brothers and sisters die in horrendous ways.

He took a drag on his cigarette, a slow nod of his head signifying that he heard. He flicked the dying bud to the ground.

"It takes a lot to do your job too. A mortician is a serious job, espically after seeing so much death in your family." He related; words sharp as a knife. Your blood ran cold as he spoke, never once had you mentioned your job, or the death of your parents and grandma, he shouldn't have known.

Muscles froze, heart beating nearly out of your chest as you glanced up at him. Your mouth was left agape as you stared.

What was once a warm body with handsome scars and bulky muscles now stood a black cloaked figure, skeletal bone, and white glowing eyes.

It was him, the Reaper. And oh, how it had tricked you.

A scream was crawling up your throat ready to expel until you heard his voice.

"Listen to me, Dove. I've followed you all your life, and I've never hurt you. But we are out of time." His voice was the same, still Simon's, even as those glowing eyes bore into yours.

"How is this happening?" You muttered as you squeezed your eyes shut, going as far as pinching yourself until freezing skeletal fingers gripped your chin.

"Listen. I know you read the passages in that book. I made sure you did, so you know since I touched you, it’ll be over soon. You have to keep yourself safe.” he squeezed your face, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you pop your eyes open and listen closely.

“Why’d you touch me then? Why are you even acknowledging me if you’d ignored me all my life?”

“I’m just a soldier, dove. I don’t make the rules. Seers, they’re destined to find us, to make our hearts beat again. The higher ups don’t like that, so we are told to kill anyone like you.”

Your heart beats faster, knowing this was enough weird to send you straight to a psychiatric ward. What did he mean make his heart beat again?

“Hey! Stop touching her!” A familar voice broke out through the buzzing of the street lamps. Skeletal fingers dropped from your chin, just as the two of you turned to face Mark, his jaw clenched and fury in his eyes.

“Mark, no-” you started, watching in horror as he stormed Simon, forcibly pushing him away from you, even though he barely moved an inch. Your heart dropped, knowing the damage was somehow done. Mark had touched a Reaper, and now he would die. He shouldn’t have been able to see him in the first place.

“Fool, what have you done?” Simon growled, now back to his human form to spare Mark the shock, dark eyes nearly black in the night.

“Seriously dude, what I have done? I’m not the one harassing women.” Mark hissed, looking small despite his height as he squared up to a reaper. Simon inhaled, chest puffing even larger than before, a nonverbal threat.

“He-he touched you.” You whimpered, eyes watering with salty tears, one threatening push and they’d fall. Mark, sweet Mark, he didn’t deserve this.

Mark’s head tilted, taking his eyes off Simon, always one to check on you instead of worry for himself. His features softened, if only for a moment.

“Cmon, we’re leaving.” He spat through gritted teeth, sending one last wicked glare to Simon before he turned his back, gently grasping your wrist and steering you away from Simon.

Before Simon could utter another word, Mark had steered you to his car, keys in his grasp as he unlocked it with a stab of his finger. You’d never seen him like that, anger flooding off of him. You weren’t sure if he’d send you sinking to the depths after him.

The key slotted into the ignition, engine roaring to life as he reversed speedily.

“Put your seat belt on… please.” Mark spoke through slotted teeth, pulling out of the parking lot and into the nearly vaccant roads. You gulped, but otherwise reached behind you to pull the belt into the slot with a latch. Your hands shook, adrenaline being your enemy as you couldn’t stop your rapidly beating heart. What if this was how you died? Your heart beating out of your chest.

“You can’t just disappear like that, I was worried sick. I love you too much for something to happen to you.”Mark expressed, taking his eyes off the road for a moment, only to frown at the horrified expression on your face. Perhaps he overstepped, but you weren’t thinking about that, only about the person he was about to run over, standing right in the middle of the road.

“Look out!”

It was all a blur, the swerving, the uncontrolled movements of the tires. It was poetic in a way, the man you had at your heels had just torn his heart out, only for it to bleed as the vehicle crashed.

You gasped, black coating your vision as bent metal pinched at all your sides. Metallic blood scented the air as tv static coated your brain.

The last thing you saw, as your vision turned black, was glowing white eyes and bleached bone.

[mooshywrites]

Could I request headcanons of poly! Astarion, and Halsin with gn human crush genuinely asking them if they're willing to be with them despite their shorter lifespan?

I’ll Love You Forever

Poly!Reader x Astarion x Halsin

Masterlist

Art commissions

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A/N - I knowwwww this was a headcannon request, but It was just so incredibly sweet that I couldn’t help writing a longer fic for it. It’s still bite sized though! Hope you still like it, your requests are always top tier ;) <3

Word count - 1.2k

Warnings - sfw, angst, mentions of dying/growing old, fluff

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“Not even the Gods themselves could make me stop loving you.”

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~Astarion~

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed as he slipped the needle in and out of the silk fabric. He cursed, sighing as he pulled the thread from the needle, tearing out the last few stitches in his work. The small green leaves he had been embroidering were now a mess of jumbled lines and he had only you to blame.

You had been acting quite… odd today.

Usually you were a bundle of smiles, greeting Astarion and Halsin with kisses and teases in the morning, sleepy eyes and clinginess galore. But this morning, after you had brushed your hair out in the mirror, something had changed. You had found a single grey hair, plucked it out and glared at it like it had personally attacked you. Since then, you’d been quiet, distant.

And Astarion hated it.

Though he acted aloof and annoyed when both you and Halsin would shower him with love and affection, deep down he adored it. Craved it even. All day, the most you had given was a quick peck to Astarion’s cheek before leaving to gather herbs.

Astarion found it hard to admit that your change in behavior had rattled him so. He was still so new to this ‘caring about other people’ thing. But his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of you out there picking plants without a smile on your face.

”Get it together, Astarion.” He murmured, threading the twine back through the eye of the needle.

The door of your little cabin swung open, Halsin bumbling in. He was carrying a large basket stuffed full of various cooking ingredients, his own face looking rather forlorn. He set everything on the table as Astarion continued his stitching, finally coming over to see what the Vampire was up to.

“Done with my shirt?” Halsin gruffed, leaning down to leave a gentle kiss on Astarion’s forehead.

”Obviously not.” Astarion scoffed, setting the work down and rubbing his eyes. “I’ve had to restart twice.”

Halsin’s forehead creased with worry, “What frets you, my heart?” He reached down to run the pale elf’s shoulders gently.

”You know what frets me.” Astarion quipped. “They went out this morning all doom and gloom and still haven’t come back. How long does it take to find a bloody herb or two?”

“I noticed it too.” Halsin said grimly. “That’s why I went to get ingredients for their favorite meal.”

Astarion thought for a moment, glancing back at the basket filled with food. “You know, you may be on to something.”

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~Reader~

You brushed off your pants, annoyed. Your basket was practically stuffed with medicinal herbs, so much so that not even another leaf would fit in amongst the others.

In truth, you were avoiding returning home.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal when you found the grey hair that morning. Everyone gets them eventually, but to you, that little strand held too much meaning for your heart to handle.

You were getting older.

You didn’t notice it at first, the way your laugh lines deepened, the way your eyes crinkled a little more when you smiled. You had never been afraid of growing old before Astarion and Halsin, in fact, the thought of immortality seemed suffocating to your human mind. But the thought of passing on and leaving them here? That truly stung.

Not to mention, you were afraid.

Afraid the two men wouldn’t love you any more. Not when your limbs grew feeble and your mind grew weak. Would Halsin still sweep you into his arms and kiss you when he came home? Would Astarion still tease you and make it all up with lis lips when you pouted?

Would they still love you as you grew old?

The thought stung your eyes, your vision growing blurry through tears. You wiped them away quickly, deciding it was time to return home. Your boys were probably worried about you, and you didn’t want them to see your puffy face like this.

Instead you thought of other things on the walk home. Chores, future plans for the house, adventures you might take. Anything to distract from your world imploding around you.

As soon as you walked through the front door, a wave of delicious smell hit you. Your mouth watered as you recognized the savory scent. You set down your basket of herbs, seeing Astarion and Halsin talking in hushed voices before the stove. Apparently, they hadn’t noticed your homecoming.

You padded up behind them, clearing your throat, “What are you making?”

Astarion practically jumped out of his skin, turning to look at you. He sighed with relief and then gave you a glare “You scared me, pet. Don’t you know it’s bad form to sneak up on a loved one?”

Halsin just chuckled, pulling you into a warm hug. You melted into the touch, inhaling his pine and honey scent. You didn’t linger too long, afraid the embrace would make you tear up again.

“Sorry,” You offered, pulling away from Halsin, “I guess old habits die hard.”

The room fell silent again as you watched the men cook, working together perfectly to mold together your favorite dish.

“My heart, is something bothering you?” Halsin gently asked, looking up at you as he finished his prep work.

You shook your head, looking down to avoid his concerned gaze. “No. Just tired, I suppose.”

“Might as well come out with it.” Astarion huffed. “We know something is wrong.”

You clamped your mouth shut, afraid you’d lash out at the men if you opened it. It wasn’t their fault they wanted to know. They just simply cared. You would be acting the same if one of them had disappeared, looking upset.

You were about to change the subject when you felt a strange tickling sensation in your mind.

As if someone were trying to peer into your thoughts.

Your head jerked up, glaring at Halsin angrily, “Get out of my head.” You seethed, crossing your arms.

Astarion glanced at Halsin, apparently surprised at his boldness. “Well, what did you see?” He asked, turning to the both of you.

Halsin kept his eyes on yours, his expression tinged with embarrassment, apologies, and… sadness?

“They were thinking of growing old.”

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~Halsin~

Halsin’s heart clenched tightly, the images in your mind replaying in his own head over and over. He saw your fear, saw your heartache at the thought of withering away from the life the three of you had built.

He couldn’t even begin to make himself feel sorry for the intrusion of detecting your thoughts, the overwhelming feeling of your sadness choking the Druid’s mind.

Astarion’s expression became unreadable, the room taking on a quiet air.

“I don’t want you to stop loving me.” You whispered sadly.

Halsin’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze switching to Astarion with confusion. He couldn’t fathom the sentence you had said. Couldn’t imagine a world where that would be true. With Halsin’s long life, he’d never had to think about his mortality before. Sure, there were a few run ins and battles where he’d been faced with the thought of death. But the idea of aging had never hit him the way it was apparently hitting you now.

How terrifying it must be to be a human. To fit such experiences and growth in so few years.

Halsin shook his head decisively, turning back to you. “Not even the Gods above could make me stop loving you.”

“Unfortunately, I agree with the big lout.” Astarion smiled, pulling you close against him. Halsin joined, his frame wrapping both you and Astarion up perfectly.

Halsin heard you sniffle, tears staining your voice when you spoke. “But what about when I’m elderly?” You wailed. “What about when my joints are stiff and my face all… wrinkled?”

“You will always be the most beautiful thing nature has to offer.” Halsin murmured, petting your hair gently.

“Wrinkles? Oh, darling, not to worry.” Astarion grinned, “There’s always the option of the three of us going out in a dramatic blaze of glory. Perhaps cliff jumping?”

Halsin smacked his shoulder, earning a small laugh from you.

“Fine.” Astarion sighed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I can be swayed to love an old bat if its you.”

“Promise?” Your voice asked, feather light and muffled in the hug.

“Promise, darling.” Astarion assured, rubbing the curve of your back in small soothing circles.

“I promise as well, my heart.” Halsin swore, planting a kiss on the top of you and Astarion’s heads.

As he held you both tightly, the smell of your favorite meal wafting through the air, Halsin only had one final thought on the matter. It wasn’t the fear of you growing old that addled him, you would be just as perfect to him if hobbled over and grey, it was the thought of life after you had passed. The loneliness that would leave both himself and Astarion in. Not to mention… how would Astarion feel when the both of you were gone? No… there had to be something to ease this heartache. He had made up his mind

I’m going to need to talk to Jaheira about that immortality ritual.

[alltoowelltom]

new year's day

lando norris x reader

The cool evening air is crisp, the entirety of Monaco laid out beneath you, glittering with golden lights. You’d only slipped out to the balcony a few minutes ago, needing some fresh air from the New Year’s Eve party that hums in the large apartment, but the December air was already pricking goosebumps on your bare arms. 

‘Cold?’ a voice says from behind and you whip around, relaxing at the sight of the man you’ve come to know so well over the last few years. Lando. There’s been a growing tension and you’re sure that you both feel it. “Accidental” brushes of his hand on yours, flirty comments when you’re with the mutual group of friends, sweet text messages at night for no one else to witness. 

‘A little.’ you admit, bringing up one hand to rub at your cold arms. 

‘I brought you a jacket,’ Lando smiles shyly. ‘Do you want it?’

You nod enthusiastically and he chuckles, stepping closer to you and slipping the warm fabric over your arms. That’s when you notice it’s not just any old jacket he’s brought, it’s his, the dark grey one he’d arrived in earlier this evening. 

‘Thank you.’ you hum, not wanting to make things awkward. 

He glances up at you as you both fumble for the zipper and your cold hands bump his. He wins, grasping the zip and bringing it all the way up to your collar slowly. 

‘Your hands are like ice,’ he laughs and you pout. ‘Let me warm them up for you?’

You nod and he gently takes them from you, holding your hands together and rubbing his own on the outsides to try and create some friction. 

‘Any better?’ he asks, not letting go of your hands. Your breath catches in your chest at the sweet contact.

‘Yeah. Y’know, if you wanted to hold my hand you could have just asked me.’ you tease and he blushes. 

‘You caught me.’ he whispers, placing his hands gently on your waist. You swear he’s magnetic, the way you can’t help leaning into his touch, seeking his warmth. 

Lando seems shy for once, gaze flickering over your face intensely. The moment is quiet despite the city’s partying as he quickly leans in, pecking your lips slightly before pulling back. You blink at him, mind desperately trying to keep up with what’s happening. Just as he opens his mouth to apologize you reach your hands up, resting one on his shoulder and letting the other get lost in his dark curls as you press your lips to his properly. 

He’s soft and sweet, bringing one of his large hands up to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss and it feels as though your body is on fire. 

You mentally kick yourself as you have to pull away for air and you both giggle anxiously, looking at the other as you catch your breath. 

‘Was that okay?’ Lando checks, ever the gentleman.

‘Yeah, that was perfect.’ you almost whisper. 

Lando grins as he reaches up, tucking a wisp of your hair that he’d knocked loose back behind your ear.

‘I guess our friendship won’t ever be the same anymore, will it?’ he says quietly, holding you in his arms. 

You allow your head to rest on his shoulder as he sways you both to the music playing from inside, hearing his heartbeat thump quickly through his cotton shirt. 

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘So can we do that again?’

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback help sm <3

[another-lost-mc]

Mammon's the type of guy who will randomly remember that mc will die at a certain age and get sooo depressed, he can get this thoughts at midnight and go to mc's room just to wake them up and cry about their mortality

You're right though, it makes sense that Mammon might do something like that. Mammon adores MC and he's going to be devastated even thinking about losing them, up until he and his brothers find a way to prevent it. Because he will not lose them, he can't–

For demons, the passage of time means just that. Days turn into months turn into years turn into centuries, and not much changes. Demons take for granted that Solomon is a rare exception, not the norm, when it comes to aging and mortality. Most humans talk about time differently than demons, too—they realize it's a rare, finite commodity they have to make the best of.

Take Mammon's precious human, for example. He starts to notice little groans or hisses of discomfort they make when their body aches in ways it never used to. They scrutinize their appearance in the mirror more often, and realize their skin's not as firm—and is that a grey hair?!

Maybe Asmo notices too, those times when he scrolls through his Devilgram feed to look back on fond memories with you. He sees you all the time, but looking at photos from a year ago? Five years ago? He can see how much you've changed.

If the demons haven't figured out a way to address their beloved human's mortality already, something is going to remind them that they're running out of time.

[Mammon x gn!Reader, 0.6k words, sfw. Content warnings: references to death/mortality, grieving, angst.]

Mammon put on the cheesy-lookin’ human world movie because it was long after midnight and sleep eluded him. He figured if it was as dumb as it looked, he might finally doze off.

By the time the end credits start rolling, he's a blubbering mess.

He’s always cracking jokes and making sarcastic commentary during bad movies. Ain’t that the whole point of watching ‘em, to have a good laugh?

But sometimes movies catch him off-guard, like the one tonight. Usually they’re films you pick, the ones you promise he will enjoy and you’ll accept the consequences if you’re wrong.

(Maybe you make everything so much better just by being there with him.)

Mammon doesn’t like to think about the possibility of you not being there anymore. He already has to deal with your visits to other realms which is annoying enough, but he can deal with that. It's the thought of you being gone forever, the thread of your human life inevitably cut when you grow old, or if something happens to you—

He hates thinking about it. It’s like a black hole inside him that traps his heart in a vicegrip and makes it impossible for him to breathe. He takes for granted that most humans aren’t like Solomon—you won’t be around forever, and he tries so desperately not to think about it because it kills him inside.

He tries to do what everyone else does: carrying on and basking in the warmth of your very existence without considering what comes next. If the others worry about the day when you suddenly won’t be there anymore, no one else says anything.

(But sometimes Asmo frowns when you peer at your reflection in the mirror and joke about the little wrinkles you’ve developed, and Beel shoves more food onto your plate when he thinks you’re not eating enough, and Levi complains that you’re too tired to pull all-nighters with him like you used to.)

He wipes his eyes and curses this damn movie about the lovey-dovey human couple growing old together, how they lived together and loved together and eventually died together. It should be romantic, but it fills him with dread.

Mammon looks down at the pact mark etched on his skin. One day you’ll disappear, and your pact mark will too. He won’t be able to chase after you anymore to keep reminding you that he’s yours, and you’re his.

He rushes across the house in a panic and ends up outside your bedroom. He can hear you snoring softly on the other side, but the familiar sound is a small comfort. He cracks the door open, and the light from the hallway spills across a familiar lump underneath your blankets. He doesn’t mean to wake you when he slips between your covers and melts into the warmth of your body as he wraps himself around you.

You peer at him sleepily, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. “Wazza’matter?” you mumble with a yawn. You wrap an arm around his waist and snuggle closer to his chest. “Y’okay?”

Tears roll down his cheek and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t answer right away—not until he suppresses the urge to sob uncontrollably, like he just did in his room.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” he whispers, and you’re too tired to notice the way his voice cracks.

“M'kay. G’night, Mammon,” you murmur as your breathing slows and your body relaxes in his arms.

He holds you close and matches his breathing with yours. He strokes your back and bites his lip whenever a new wave of tears fall from his eyes and drip onto your pillow.

He knows by morning the stains will be dry, the evidence of his despair washed away by time, just like you will be one day.

He's so exhausted but his heart is heavy. He doesn’t sleep.

Read more: obey me! masterlist

[wlw-imagines]

Behind The Curtain - Amelia Shepherd/Reader (Grey’s Anatomy)

request: Could you do a oneshot with Amelia Shepard where they both work at the hospital and are secretly dating. One day Arizona or Meredith or somebody catches them making out and then teases them about it the rest of the day. You're writing is fantastic! Thanks for reading this :) - anon

a/n: these are from my old tumblr thefandomwritings from back in 2018 ! re-vamped and re-purposed!! hope u enjoy and forgive the 2018 me style writing

Keeping your relationship with Amelia secret had been pretty easy for the two of you.

Whilst you were rarely seen venturing further than paediatrics ward, Amelia was similarly tied down to Neuro, being a neurosurgeon, and to whatever various tasks kept her occupied elsewhere in the hospital. Therefore there was never any need to cover anything up about your long-term relationship.

It had begun as a late night fling, early on in your careers at Seattle Grace - you had both finished a shift at the same time and walked into each other as you were buying a coffee.

She smiled sleepily, her eyes bleary as she gripped the coffee cup, “Y/L/N, right?”

You nodded at the correct name, and also in recognition of the woman in front of you, “Amelia.”

“Coffee? At this late hour?” She smirked, a twinkle growing in her eyes.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “I could say the same for you.”

Amelia shrugged and started walking at your side, “I won’t get any sleep any time soon anway, what’s your excuse?” She raised an eyebrow as the two of your left the cafeteria.

“Same.” You shrugged, before turning back to face her and fully reigstering the look in her eyes. You took a slight risk, hoping it was the correct one, “Want to come back to mine? We can talk about how shit life is and commiserate together?”

“I’m less of a talker, more of a do-er.” She caught your expression of a raised eyebrow and shook her head, “Not like that!”

“Hey, we can do whatever you want to do.” You laughed, “I can make us more coffee at home? Stronger coffee.”

“Okay. I’d like that.”

You were fortunate really because whenever you were around one another your love was probably too obvious and your relationship was something that you felt didn't need to be known by everyone yet. So, the longer it could be kept a secret, the better. There would be no complaints of favouritism in surgery and no teasing during late night shifts, it was just straight up easier.

And while normally the distance between your areas of expertise was in your favour, sometimes, on the rare occasion, the paediatrics and brain surgery teams would collaborate. It was at time like these that it was much more difficult to keep your hands off each other.

The day had started with Arizona rushing towards you, a stressed look on her face reserved for only the worst cases. "We have a nine year old girl coming in with serious unspecified head injuries. I've paged Lady Shepherd so she is on her way up, you'll be following the case with me." She rushed out, no time to pause.

"Wait, I... Lady Sheph- Amelia is being given the case?" You asked, your heart hammering slightly once you heard the name.

"She is our in-house neurosurgeon so, yes. She is. Do you have a problem with that Y/L/N?" The woman quirked an eyebrow up at you, giving you one of her looks that you could hardly ever interpret so you just stuttered away.

"N-no, not at all. That's fine, it's great. Good for her." You stumbled through some random words that didn't even really make sense in the situation before you were interrupted by your girlfriend walking through the doors.

There was just something about her in authority and her scrubs that turned you on and that was why you were better off separated. So you found yourself relatively lucky to not be included in the team that went into surgery.

You avoided the viewing platform. But even when you were stuck outside doing paperwork you still found yourself too distracted, your mind wandering off too many times, thinking of what you would do to the woman once you were in the safety of your own apartment. 

It was going to be a long day.

You had waited until the surgery was finished until you snuck into a call room. Amelia had been walking past when you attempted to (subtly) pull her into the  room with you. You immediately closed the door and pinned her up against it, making an attempt to lock the door before Amelia flipped the tables and pushed you against the wall. The look in her eyes immediately brought back memories of how your relationship had initially begun.

"What are you smiling about?" She asked, pulling back with a confused look on her face.

Leaning forward, you kissed her nose and hummed slightly, "I love you, is all." 

The smile remained on your face as you leant slowly in. Your lips connected and the kiss only became more passionate as the pent up frustration of long, hard days and not seeing each other as much as you needed to built up. You weren't even in there to hook up like you always used to, you just need to be close and be together.(Although, shirts were beginning to be unbuttoned...)

You were vaguely aware of footsteps approaching but you were too caught up with Amelia and had just assumed they had passed. That was until you heard a small gasp coming from the doorway.

Amelia and you pulled away from each other as quickly as you could, your girlfriend stumbling back and almost falling over had it not been for you grabbing her waist and wrapping your arms around her to prevent the fall.

Once she was secure you turned your head back to whoever had interrupted with a smile that was as innocent as you could make it before clearing your throat, "Arizona... Hey."

"Well, I was not expecting this...” A small grin spread across her lips and she let out a gleeful laugh, “Actually, you know what I kind of was. Y/N's been acting strange." Arizona smiled with an evil twinkle in her eye, "I can't believe you guys haven't told me!" You quickly shushed her before pulling her into the call room and closing the door behind her. "I love you guys but at least buy me dinner first..." She joked, earning a light slap on the arm from you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, running your hand through your hair and starting to fidget.

Arizona paused, "I was going to take a nap... in the call room. Because that's what-"

Your girlfriend looked at her watch and shrugged at you, "Look at the time, I've got to go." Amelia, spoke up from the corner, sliding out the door without another word.

You went to walk after her but turned to Arizona who was still standing there with a smile on her face, "You scared my girlfriend away." You pouted.

Arizona just wrapped her arms around you and rocked you side to side, "I'm so proud of you!"

"Shut up."

"But you're both so cute."

"Shut up!" You pushed her slightly, laughing.

"And you've finally found someo-"

You gave her one last look before opening the door, "Okay, I'm leaving now!" You said, walking out.

"Love you." She yelled after your disappearing body.

"Love you too." You yelled back before adding on, "And don't you dare tell anyone!”

--------------------------------

"Y/N," You jokingly rolled your eyes when confronted with Arizona leaning on the nurse desk with a big smile on her face. You prepared yourself for the teasing that was inevitably about to come and pretended to be more interested in the paperwork in front of you. The teasing over the past week had been neverending, "Listen, I know I've been making fun of you and your girlfriend all day and I just wanted to let you know that I support you 100%. I promise that I won't let anyone know of your little secret, okay?" You visibly relaxed and looked back up at her.

You smiled, putting your hand over hers, "You know, you didn't need to tell me that. I trusted you from the beginning but thank you all the same."

She nodded and went to leave before turning back to you, "By the way, I've given your girlfriend a little gift - you may want to go up and say hi. She's in the nursery."

Confused, you frowned slightly but didn't question it as you nodded and made your way to the other side of the ward, where all the newborns are kept.

You stepped in front of the window looking into the nursery and felt your heart skip a beat to see Amelia cradling one of the babies. She caught your eye and her eyes twinkled slightly as she looked down at the baby in her arms. You sighed blissfully and stepped into the room.

"Are you terrorizing the children?" You asked, looking around at the other 3 cribs, each holding a tiny, delicate baby. You stepped closer to Amelia, putting an arm around her lower back and looking down at the baby.

"They're our kids without any home, or parents." Amelia whispered, rocking the baby slightly before shifting the pink blanket to cover her head and little waving hand that had fallen out when she was trying to reach up to your girlfriend. "I kind of thought you were just going to end the sentence at, 'they're our kids' and then you would have a lot of explaining to do."

"Surprise!" She sarcastically cheered before one last rock of the baby. Between the two of you, you managed to safely get her back into her cot and tucked up in her blanket before sneaking out the door.

You both stood in each other's embrace for a while, just soaking in each other's love and company.

"Y'know, maybe it's good that people know about us - especially Arizona." You mumble, longingly staring at the bundles left in the nursery, "if it gets us perks like getting to cuddle cute babies during work then I'm so up for coming out to everyone." You joked.

Amelia just nodded, "Me too." You looked up, slightly surprised as it hadn't really been something you had discussed yet. "Hey, you want to stay at mine and get chinese tonight?"

"Do you have the house to yourself?" You asked with surprise, since these are the only times you get to stay round and even then it is like a military mission. "No, it's a full house tonight. I'm introducing you to them."

"Babe, you realise I know your friends and they know me. We're part of the same friendship group."

"I know, but I get to introduce you as my girlfriend." She grinned and began walking back down the corridor, back to work before yelling over her shoulder, "Plus I get to show them pictures of our children!"