#kodis requests

[dawn-moths]

"Epitaph"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 15,900+

(requested by @anxious-chick // After running into the mysterious guest known as “Undertaker” at several of Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive’s weekly parties, the two of you eventually take an interest in one another, even if your part in that begins as somewhat reluctant. However, over time, as you grow more comfortable around one another, you find perhaps there's a reason you two were destined to meet, starting with the fact that he's the first one to show you physical touch isn't something to be afraid of.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! plot heavy in the beginning (sort of slow burn) with smut at the end, loss of virginity, best way i can describe this is like a one-sided reluctant acquaintances to lovers lol, bittersweet ending, some mentions of drinking/alcohol.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The cemetery beyond the mortuary was empty at this time of night, the small, early morning hours just beginning to creep over the horizon, staining the dark velvets of night with a fine veil of ghostly greys, the moonlight breaking through the thick shield of clouds overhead. Through the latticed windows of the kitchenette, silver beams slipped through the glass to lay on the cool tile floor, the table by the sill where you used to sit and read your mystery novels now overgrown with houseplants.

It was all he had left of you— ferns and pothos and calatheas.

Houseplants, and the loop of your hair that was preserved behind the glass of his mourning lockets.

Out of the countless bodies he’d seen through death, tended to and prepared to be placed perfectly in their eternal resting place, you had been the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking.

It had been years since he’d shed even a single tear over one of the deceased— decades— maybe even over a century— but for you, after all this time, he guessed he still had a few lingering shreds of humanity left in his crypt of a heart after all. No matter how far he tried to bury his grief, his mourning, your passing had finally been the thing to unearth it.

Standing before your headstone beneath the kitchen window, facing the direction of the setting sun, your favorite time of day, tracing the letters of your name with his sullen chartreuse gaze, slivers of emerald slipping through the gaps of his curtain of silver bags, he just let the tears fall. If anyone else had been around to see, they would’ve never believed the funeral director was actually crying over one of his corpses.

But you had been so much more than just a body, once upon a time. It haunted him to think one day he might be the only soul left to remember you’d even existed at all. But then again, those were all memories he still held dear. He could recall them as if they’d occurred only yesterday, could see the curve of your profile from across the room, feel the way the dip of your waist fit perfectly into his palm, hear the lilt of your laugh, able to amuse you with anything he said if he really wanted to once he’d finally deciphered your sense of humor.

Those days were over for you now, but he could still relive pieces of them, their echo reverberating through his mind as soon as he plucked the first string on one. No matter how melancholy the tune, the melody was still just as sweet.

Strolling away from your resting place, venturing further into the garden of graves that lay beyond, he began to hum a quiet song to himself, one he’d heard time and time again back when you two had first fallen into each other’s orbit. Despite the sadness, it made him smile. He wished he would’ve asked to dance with you sooner, danced with you more, once he’d finally gotten the chance.

He could almost feel the waltz welling within him, doing a turn and imagining your hands clasped with his, twirling you gracefully, allowing you to unravel just far enough to give the illusion of breaking away only to return to him, wearing that mischievous smile he so adored.

How he longed to revisit those nights in more than just his memories— the mysterious gatherings, the lavish parties, no matter what menagerie of wealthy, well-bred guests were in attendance, his interest always locking in on you.

But even he couldn’t have guessed, back then, that he would’ve ever grown so attached as to weep for you once you were dead…

***

It had all began at one of the Phantomhive’s illustrious, notorious nighttime banquets, each and every guest hand picked and carefully curated, placed strategically within the mansion’s hosting perimeter, down to the seating arrangements at dinner and the order in which the carriages arrived to deliver you all home at the end of the event.

The first few times you’d been invited, you hadn’t a clue why you were there. Because what could Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive possibly want to do with a local news column writer such as yourself? They’d barely spoken to you upon your arrival, too busy mingling with the more important guests, but as you’d awkwardly skirted the corners of the room, the neglect had given you the opportunity to do what it was you were best at.

Survey the crowd.

People watch.

Discover the strengths and weaknesses of your fellow party-goers all while remaining anonymous and tucked away into the shadows.

It was how you’d quickly began to rise through the ranks of the journalists at your press department, sniffing out mysterious stories and the savage truths behind them before anyone else even had the chance to pick a direction to start in.

To yourself, you thought it just made you a good journalist. To others, it made you dangerous.

And if anyone besides the hosts of the evening knew just exactly how lethal you could become with a pen and notepad in your hand, they’d all be anxiously vying to convince you they weren’t like other arms dealers and black market traders or any other less-than-ethical variety of underworld rat skittering through London’s secret mazes.

But that had all been a part of Vincent and Rachel’s plan. Have you stir things up just enough to have the vermin scatter, then all they’d need to do would be to divert them towards the trap.

By the fifth time you’d accepted their ominous invitation— why you kept returning despite the uneasiness it all gave you, you weren’t sure, other than your innate curiosity and just so happening to have most nights free from your busy work schedule— your hosts had finally found it appropriate to introduce themselves to you personally.

Even before you’d begun attending the parties, seen the infamous Phantomhive’s with your own eyes, you’d heard the rumors— not just of their wealth, but of their beauty as well.

Rachel and Vincent both bore striking appearances. They had this air about them, something you just couldn’t put your finger on, that made you both weary and trusting of them on sight. Like a siren singing from a rock near the shore, they lured you in with their elegant charms, but get too close and you’d find yourself drowning.

“Ah, there she is,” Vincent had said as he and his wife gracefully approached you. “The woman of the hour. Welcome, welcome.” You gave them a respectful courtesy, bowing your head and clutching your skirts, hoping to hide how your hands had begun to shake, your nerves getting the better of you.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied, trying to sound actually grateful instead of skeptical. You were going to keep your confusion to yourself, just let it go and enjoy being able to attend while it lasted, but then something inside you decided against it and you asked, “But— and excuse me if this is out of turn— why, exactly, have I been invited…?”

Rachel and Vincent both laughed and, for a moment, all air of intimidation seemed to disappear from them. Until they’d looked at each other, then looked back at you, smiling like cats who’d just caught a mouse and intended on teasing the poor creature for a bit before sinking its fangs down into the rodent’s throat.

Vincent leaned in, close enough to make you flinch, close enough to raise a slight heat into your cheeks. “Because, my dear journalist…” he’d whispered, “Rachel and I have a very important favor to ask of you.”

The favor in question, as it turned out, was more so a job. The Phantomhive’s couldn’t be discovered as double agents or else their entire cover operation would be blown, so naturally they sought out second hand services. But your willingness to spy on their guests for them didn’t come for free. They’d never even dream of inferring that you work without compensation of some kind. So, in exchange for your services, they were willing to put in a good word for you at the top newspaper in all of London.

“Just take your pick of the columns,” Rachel had said with a sly wink. “Any one your heart desires, do this for us and it shall be yours.”

At first, it almost seemed, and felt, too good to be true. But you were tired of getting stuck with the inane, mundane, and oftentimes completely domestic stories handed off to you by the other men at the office. If you came in with a headline worthy story, it was always one of them who got to claim it, making you do all the work only to sign it off with their name, as if any one of them could ever even hope to be half the writer— half the detective— you’d been with half the time in the game.

It was tempting, though, what was it they said about temptation again? Something about surrending to it in case it never came your way again?

Perhaps that was the reason you’d been so inclined to accept their offer in the end. Because, if they really were the sirens you suspected them to be, this opportunity felt like a liferaft tossed out to sea. You’d already made the mistake of drawing too close to the beast. Now all you could do was grasp onto the first thing that could help you escape the icy waters unscathed.

So, from there on out, every event of theirs that you attended you made sure to stay diligent, deceptively demure as you shied away from the thickest crowds, wearing clothes that looked nice enough to blend in but not so extravagant as to be the center of attention, your hair fixed into an elegant, albeit modest updo, always seeming to be holding a glass of whatever alcohol was being served that night that never found itself empty. Although, unlike most of the other guests, that wasn’t because the servants kept coming around to refill it. You had to stay focused, so, raising the rim of the crystal to your lips, you merely pretended to drink, yet another way to blend in.

However, despite the fact your eye for booking someone as shady or salacious was a very sharp, very skilled one, there had been one guest that, no matter how hard you studied him, how carefully you watched, gave nothing— absolutely nothing— away as to why he belonged in the room among the rest of the guests.

You were supposed to be the secret outlier, you thought, and the man’s presence haunted you from one week into the next. By your second soiree as a spy, you’d already gathered ample information on the ones you’d deemed guilty, still keeping a watch on the others out of the corner of your eye while you continued trying to dig a deeper hole for the rats to fall in, but at the end of that night drifting around the manor like your own kind of phantom, you still came up empty on your mystery man.

Until the very end, just as you were about to head out to the carriage arranged to take you home.

“I must say, Vincent,” his gravelly voice sounded from a little further into the main foyer, the remnants of a laugh fading off the end of his words, “If the Queen knew her watchdog had such a sense of humor, I think she’d prefer to take you on as her personal entertainer instead.”

You stopped, pretending to search your purse for something as you listened in.

The Earl let out a devious chuckle of his own, going on to reply, “Yes, but if I did that, then who would be around to entertain you, Undertaker?”

You clasped your purse shut with a muted click and continued towards the carriage. For tonight, you had all you needed. And though it was just a title, barely even a name to know him by, the moment you got home and scribbled down the ten letters of Undertaker onto your growing web of information gathered from these parties, you could already sense that he was the key to the biggest mystery you’d been faced with yet.

***

Though you couldn’t see his eyes through the thick silver curtain of his hair, from across the room you knew— could practically feel it as a fresh wave of chills spiked up your spine— that Undertaker was staring straight at you. You stared back, lips slightly parted as your next breath caught halfway up your throat, his silent acknowledgment of you making you feel suddenly naked, vulnerable under his recognition.

He offered you a mischievous crack of a smile, all teeth, and a playful, waggling wave of his black-nailed fingers. You felt your cheeks heat, feeling startlingly self-conscious, though not entirely sure why, and turned to excuse yourself to the nearest washroom to collect yourself.

Staring down your reflection in the mirror, you reminded yourself why you were here. To investigate. To uncover. To expose. Not just for the promotion that had been generously promised to you, but for the sake of the common good as well. Or, at least, that’s one of the stories you’d started telling yourself to make your duplicity to all the people who you’d pretended to enjoy the company of a little less guilt-tripping.

Besides, the Phantomhive’s also knew you couldn’t resist a cause where injustice was being done, and while it sort of made you sick to watch this group of miscreants chatting and laughing like they’d never harmed the orphaned or the sick or the poor week after week, you knew, in the end, their evil would not prevail.

Resolute in your mission here once again, you exited the washroom, intending to migrate back into the lion’s den, when all of a sudden that familiar, bone-chilling voice sounded from behind you, making you flinch.

“You know…” Undertaker began, who’d been leaning against the nearest wall before pushing off with one shoulder to lessen the gap between you, the layers of black fabric he wore lightly billowing behind him with each heel-to-toe step. His arms were crossed, and his shadow began to creep over you, seeming as if it could swallow you up at any moment. But still he wore an amused grin like he was about to tell a charming joke and was simply awaiting the perfect moment to deliver the punchline. He continued, “The guest list of these parties changes every week, yet, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there are only ever two who get invited every single time…”

You had noticed that actually, keeping the little tidbit of information close to your chest, sometimes purposely acting like it was your first time attending such a gathering if you noticed the roster was entirely fresh, but he was right.

The only other person besides yourself who graced the Phantomhive manor on a weekly basis, other than the Phantomhives themselves, of course, was the silver shadow known as Undertaker. The man had been nearly as elusive and calculating as you had thus far, but now, it seemed, he wished to show part of his hand.

Undertaker cocked his head to one side, seeming to study you through the shaggy fringe concealing half his face like a mask, and said, “Sort of odd, don’t you think?”

And it really wasn’t his sudden and unexpected presence that had caught you so off guard. You were used to potential targets confronting you, whether to try and scare you off from a possible story they were at the root of or convince you there was nothing to see here. This, however, was different. Because the increased pounding of your heart and the sudden loss for words didn’t seem to be out of fear, but, perhaps, out of the kind of flustered intrigue that comes with finding a stranger very, very attractive.

“I, uh…” was all you had time to say before Vincent Phantomhive was approaching from down the hall, seemingly with something urgent to discuss with Undertaker, giving you a smile and a nod as if to say keep up the good work before he and his guest continued down the hall and disappeared around the next corner, all that black fabric fluttering in his wake.

You spent the remainder of the night distracted, off your game, growing frustrated with yourself and with him for having your thoughts interrupted by that shining scar that cut diagonally across his pale face, the lilting hum to his tone that had indicated something you didn’t even dare explore, even within the confines of your own imagination, and all those long strands of silver that looked like threads spun from moonlight.

Needless to say, you didn’t gather much intel that night, and you were honestly just counting down the hours until it would be time for you to go home. But as each guest departed, one after another, their carriages formally announced to be awaiting them, something else strange and rather off-script happened to you.

Normally, you were among the middle group to say your thank yous and goodbyes to the hosts before exiting through the grand entrance, heading down the curved double staircase before being whisked away back into the grey-toned city. But tonight, after watching the last of the guests thank the Phantomhives for their glittering hospitality and departing the manor, you found you were the final guest that remained.

You, and, much to your dismay, surprise, and general curiosity, Undertaker as well.

You were sure your carriage would be pulling up any moment now, and so you hung close to the doors to search out the horse pulling it through the dark. You hoped this served as an indicator you wished to be left alone with your own thoughts, but, alas, that looming shadow of a man who’d suddenly and quite unexplainably taken an interest in you was hovering by your side again like a crow waiting for you to drop some crumbs.

“Do you think it’s true?” he unceremoniously prompted, voice hushed to a low, sultry whisper, making the thin hairs on the back of your neck rise with suspense.

You cast him a glance over your shoulder, trying to act indifferent and completely unbothered. “Do I think what’s true?” you asked, an edge of irritation splicing through your forced boredom.

Undertaker breathed out a knowing chuckle, something from beneath his wide sleeves clinking and chiming together lightly before he applied more pressure to silence it. He then cleared his throat and said, “This place, they say it’s haunted, you know.”

“And?” you pressed, and though you were trying to make it seem like you couldn’t have cared less, your skin was crawling with the anticipation to know more, more, more.

“And,” he mimicked, leaning in a little closer to you, testing to see how far you’d let him invade your personal space, “do you think it’s true?”

You turned to face him, scrutinizing him now, a crooked mask to hide your true intrigue, wanting nothing more than to reach up and gently push his bangs away from his eyes just to discover what color they were beneath the curtain that so carefully protected that information. You wanted to trace the lines of his scars, especially the one wrapped around his neck like a collar, a chain, a reminder of something horrific he’d once endured, and learn the story behind every single mark.

You wanted to learn his name, his true one, not just his job description or whatever morbid title Vincent had given him as part of some kind of inside joke they shared.

You opened your mouth to say something— what, you weren’t entirely sure— but just then, the feeling in the air seemed to change, an energy charged in the small space between your bodies, the scent of a storm carrying on a breeze, an invisible electricity sparking through you, lacing through your bones and frizzling your brain.

“They say sometimes you can feel them touch you,” Undertaker continued, and for a moment, just a mere hair of a second, you swore you could see a glint of light shimmering from behind his bangs, a flash of emerald here and then gone again before your eyes could even register the color. “They say it’s heavy, and cold as ice, like a stone lifted from a freezing sea, the sensation coming and going as quick as a breath in a winter’s breeze…”

The first time his pale, cold hand had brushed against the dip of your waist it had already been too late. His long, lithe fingers had lingered there for but a moment, just long enough to allow the shape of his touch to drape itself upon your body, the memory of it a thrilling, frightening thing. But when you’d flinched away, drawn in a sudden, sharp gasp under your breath, he retracted. Still, despite the new distance put between you two, he wore that mischievous smile, his broad shoulders shivering with the containment of some kind of mean laughter.

It was then that your carriage arrived, the Phantomhives’ butler announcing this to you, but just before you could turn and leave, Undertaker said, “Remember, miss journalist, sometimes the answers to our biggest questions are found in the things we can’t see…” as he slinked back off into the dark, leaving you standing in the center of the foyer alone.

If you hadn’t seen Vincent interact directly with him just earlier that evening, you would’ve deduced that he was the very spirit he’d warned you of, but then, about halfway home as the carriage traveled over the country’s uneven terrain, you realized something even more terrifying.

You’d never told him you were a journalist. The Phantomhives had assured you that no one besides themselves were to know, lest your cover and this whole operation they’d gotten you involved with be blown.

It kept you up at night, his words, his scars, his touch. But now you had an entirely new mission, one that was all your own.

And that was to discover just exactly who, or perhaps, what, this man called Undertaker truly was.

***

Some time passed before there was another party, what with the celebration of the Phantomhives’ sons’ birthdays and the Christmas holiday falling a little under two weeks apart. But, with the arrival of the New Year of 1885 quickly approaching, you weren’t surprised when you received yet another one of the crisp, cream and gold colored invitation cards in the mail announcing a grand celebration event at the manor.

This would be the biggest crowd you’d hidden amongst thus far, though, surely, you thought, the Phantomhives didn’t intend for you to be working too hard on such an occasion? Besides, you’d already turned in the extent of information you’d been able to gather on their people of interest. As far as you were concerned, this case, or at least your part in it, was closed. They’d already assured you they’d hold up their end of the deal as soon as you chose your desired position at the new press company you’d be working at come the new year too. Now, all you had to do was sit back and relax as the hours ticked down until midnight.

At least, that’s what you would’ve been able to do if not for the incessant appearance of him.

All night, Undertaker seemed to trail you like a shadow. No matter how many times you tried to slip out of one room and into another unnoticed, tuck yourself within a new crowd, folded between different nobles, it was only a matter of minutes until you looked over and saw his pale figure swathed in layers of black. A few times, he even dared to give you one of those cheeky grins and teasing waves, as if tormenting you was his most favorite game, and every time you met the gesture with a huff of a frustrated sigh and a swift turning on your heel, heading off to pick at the many food options set up around the different rooms or grab another drink as a servant carrying a tray of them passed by, not pretending to sip this time but actually allowing yourself to indulge.

But you should’ve really known by now that showing your back and trying to ignore him was probably your worst bet at actually being left alone. He was like a naughty child, continuously doing that which would get him the most reaction or attention, despite the consequences. And, like the tired parent who would do just about anything to get the child to behave, you eventually caved in and gave him exactly what he wanted.

“What?” you asked, walking right up to him where he was leaning against a wall, your arms crossed and attempting to wrestle your features into a look of grim displeasure rather than fluster-fueled nervousness. It was like a spell had suddenly been released into the air once you two were standing face to face, your prior agitation slowly but surely melting away until all you could focus on was the way his silver hair caught the dim light and those scars that just barely peeked out from his collar and curtain of bangs as if too shy to properly say hello.

“Good evening to you too, miss journalist,” he sarcastically greeted, though you detected no hint of malice, merely an air of teasing charm. Instead of irking you that time, the sentiment made your cheeks heat. You pretended to cough and look away, hoping it wasn’t showing too clearly on your face. He gestured to the party encircling you both, an endless, overlapping barrage of laughter and conversation filling the room, and asked with a slight raise to his voice, “What a wonderful way to ring in the new year, don’t you agree?”

Frankly, you realized you were still far too sober to be in this situation right now, but when you searched the room for any more of those silver trays holding flutes of bubbling liquid, you found, for once, there were none in sight.

“Listen,” you said, lowering your voice despite the loud chatter that tried to drown it out, clearly still in the investigation mindset despite your earlier resolution to enjoy a night away from work, “let’s just stop with the smalltalk. Off the record, why don’t you just tell me what it is you want and why I have to be a part of it?”

When he found it appropriate to laugh at this notion, one of which you were sincerely serious about, you found yourself flaring more towards anger than intrigue. “What’s so funny?” you hissed, suddenly wanting nothing more than your own shadow to hide inside of when you glanced around and noticed a few other party-goers trying to listen in on your conversation. You were used to coveting and collecting gossip, not being the source of it.

But Undertaker seemed largely undisturbed by the growing sets of eyes landing upon your shared corner of the ballroom, flicking one black-nailed finger beneath the hem of his fringe to wipe away a tear of amusement before replying through a chuckle-laced breath, “You are, my dear. Simply hilarious.”

Wanting to turn and stalk away from him again, you resisted the urge, now determined to beat him at his own game, the rules of which you still weren’t entirely clear on. “Oh, so you like jokes then?” you baited, a smirk beginning to curve up on your lips now. “Well why didn’t you just say so? How about you and I make a deal then?” At this, Undertaker’s expression turned comically inquisitive, regarding you with a new kind of focus, his silence prompting you to continue. “If I can tell you something funny enough to make you laugh before the end of the night, you leave me alone after that.”

“And if you lose?” he posed, beginning to circle you until it was your back towards the wall instead, a hunter closing in on its prey. “What do I get if I win?”

You took a moment to think about that. You didn’t have much to give, if you were being honest. So you made the mistake of asking him, “What do you want?”

The smile that carved across his pale features then sent another one of those cold, electric shivers down your spine, and instantly you regretted allowing him so much freedom in choosing his prize. Tapping his chin with a finger as he pretended to sort through his options, he quickly and proudly settled on, “How about you have dinner with me?”

Aghast, you truly didn’t know what to say. Wanting to play it cool, not show how ridiculous the idea seemed to you when stated so shamelessly out of the blue, your throat bobbed with a particularly hard swallow and your voice shook slightly as you began to say, “That’s really what you want?”

Undertaker nodded, his smile not faltering. “That’s what I want.”

Not happy with the consequences but still clearly up for the challenge, you steeled your expression and agreed with a semi-confident, “Alright then. All I have to do is make you laugh before the clock strikes twelve,” and then I’ll never have to be bothered by you again. Should be easy, if he thought you were so hilarious without even trying.

However, as you searched the far corners of your mind for a joke or anecdote you thought would knock him out on the first try, you suddenly found your temporary confidence dying like an ember fading out in its hearth. You resided in the world of logic and facts, not entertainment and tomfoolery. You had a sense of humor, sure. Someone in your line of work had to, once in a while, lest they go mad when constantly being reintroduced to the bleakest parts of humanity.

Finally, you recalled a particular story that you’d nearly cried at upon hearing the first time, you’d laughed so hard. Surely, this was the one. You remembered it perfectly too, only, the further you ventured into telling it without so much as a twitch of a smirk appearing at the corner of Undertaker’s lips, the more you began to sense that you’d been lured right into a trap.

“Amusing,” he stated, monotone and mocking you. “But if you want to win, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

You stood there, staring at him, seething, knowing this had all been according to his plan all along. You figured you could always just find a moment to slip away from the party and into one of the carriages already lined up outside before the new year rang in, perhaps voiding this odd and informal little contract you two had entered into together, but a part of you also knew that, whether a week or a month or a year from now, you’d find yourself faced with him again some way or another. Perhaps it was better to just keep trying even if only to prove to yourself you’d fought instead of running away.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you taunted, some of your indignance slipping through the vengeful grin spreading across your lips, “I’m just warming up.”

Undertaker tapped his wrist, miming where a watch would be, if he wore one, and said, “Tick tock… Only five more hours till midnight.”

And thus the game began.

***

Every hour that passed, with every attempted joke that was told without the desired reaction, the more dejected you began to feel.

And now, with less than half an hour to go, you’d already accepted your imminent defeat.

There had been a few times you could tell he was seriously having to hold back, the promise of a chuckle choked out behind his teeth or a burst of a laugh strangled somewhere deep in his chest before it had time to rise from his lungs. He had a lot more self control than you would’ve originally given him credit for, that much you couldn’t deny, but it almost seemed the brunt of his amusement came from how each attempt you made became more desperate, some of the words leaving your mouth shameful enough to make your mother faint had she been around to hear you say them, digging up the darkest, most shocking lines you’d ever uttered in your entire life.

You were a few drinks over the limit of caring if any of the other ladies in attendance that night heard you saying such depraved things in public, and to a man you barely even knew on top of it all, but one thing was for certain.

Undertaker was cracking.

You’d nearly gotten him on a few of the last ones, suddenly grateful for all the horrid things you’d heard the men exchanging and laughing about in the press office— another place you were used to acting like a shadow within. Though, even if you felt like you were maybe getting closer to winning, your dignity would lose regardless. You felt as if you were stooping to some unacceptable level you’d normally turn your nose up at, behaving in such an undignified way, yet the itch to prove him wrong and reclaim your pride was hard not to scratch, and right now there was only one way to do so.

“You know,” Undertaker said, only fifteen minutes to midnight, “I will admit, you’re really starting to make me regret entering the mortuary field and wishing I’d gone into journalism instead. Do your colleagues truly say such audacious things?” Just then he nearly made himself laugh, though you figured that wouldn’t count.

By now, you had a few cards left to play, having saved your best ones for the final hour, just in case, though that bank had nearly run dry. You had one last ridiculous tale left up your sleeve before you’d truly have to hang your head and admit defeat, and for a moment, you let hope get the better of you. It truly seemed this would be the one to best him, and as you loudly and, thanks to the several glasses of champagne flowing through your veins, very confidently delivered the perfect punchline, you counted the seconds until he’d inevitably burst with laughter and be forced to forgo his mission to unexplainably irritate you.

But he swallowed it down, dousing it with his next and final gulp of champagne, having drank nearly as much as you throughout the night, probably more, yet somehow unaffected, and as he sighed out a satisfied exhale, sans the expected howl of laughter, your expression of victory crumbled down to forlorn.

“Are you kidding me?” you confronted, clearly fed up— with him, mostly, but also with yourself— before you began stammering out a mess of jumbled syllables proclaiming how this entire thing had been rigged in the first place.

“Technically there’s still a few minutes,” Undertaker reminded you, nodding towards the grand clock adorning the mansion’s foyer. “Though if I were you…” he leaned in, so close his lips were practically pressed against your ear, his breath tickling the side of your exposed neck, “I’d just count myself lucky you didn’t wager a kiss at midnight in the case of your defeat.”

Between the warmth of the alcohol and the dizziness those words had just washed over you, you feared for a moment you might faint, your posture suddenly swaying before Undertaker instinctively reached out to help steady you, both his palms pressed firmly to your waist, reminding you of the night he’d tried to spook you with ghost stories and gotten a little too close for your comfort.

Only this time, you didn’t flinch away instantly. Instead, you allowed his hands to stay there for a moment, staring up at him with perhaps the softest expression you’d worn all night. You felt your mouth opening, though again found yourself unsure what you would say, when suddenly, faster than you were ready for, the chorus of counting down the seconds until the new year filled the room and startled you back to reality.

You pulled away from his orbit, smoothing down your skirts with your sweaty palms, and turned your gaze to the smallest hand on the clock, barely mouthing the numbers of the countdown until it was only ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

“Happy New Year!” Undertaker chanted, shouting out with the crowd but looking straight at you, as if the celebratory words were meant for only one person in the room. He raised his empty glass your way, wearing one of those sinfully sly smiles, and said, now only loud enough for you to hear, “How’s next Friday at seven sound, hm?”

You could barely understand what he was talking about. You were already too far gone. All you could remember at that point was the sinking feeling of dread laced with a familiar sense of excitement, as if you’d just been the key witness to a very important event and now had the chance to give the first testimony of the case.

But isn’t this what you’d wanted all along? A way to get closer to him and uncover whatever it was he was hiding— because you knew he was hiding something.

Your initial intrigue had never really faded, no matter how much you’d tried to convince yourself you loathed him, that he was insufferable, more trouble than he was worth. But, then again, if it was answers you wanted, it should be easy for you to get them.

You’d always been good at solving mysterious events. How would solving a mysterious person really be any different?

***

You’d upheld your end of the bargain and joined Undertaker for dinner, which had been stranger than fiction but a rather good story to file away for your personal collection. Much to your surprise— and perhaps slightly to your disappointment— things had started and ended with dinner. Just dinner. You’d tried to pry, tried to get him to open up, learn more about him, but somehow he always found a way to seamlessly direct the topic of conversation back around to you.

You’d decided he maybe wasn’t so bad afterall, had even agreed to do it all again sometime. 

But now, a year later, there were no more parties. 

All that had been left in the wake of the once pristine and lively Phantomhive manor was ash and the crumbing, scorched remains that had outlasted the fire. Not even the children had survived, and though you’d only seen them a handful of times as their nanny had led them up the grand staircase by the hand to put them to bed just as the first batch of guests were beginning to arrive, it still made your heart twist with the tragedy of it all.

At least they’re together, you tried to console yourself as you stood before Rachel and Vincent’s graves, your previous hosts reduced to nothing but a matching set of stones sticking out from the cold earth. You wouldn’t exactly have considered them friends, per se, more so something closer to employers, but you couldn’t help it. You’d grown more attached to them than you’d originally intended.

“Do you think it’s true?” a familiar voice suddenly asked from right behind you, making you jolt and turn to face him. You’d already known it was Undertaker, yet, as you tried to meet the glimpse of green you’d once caught shielded behind all that silver, you still found a part of you was surprised to find him standing in the same graveyard, as if having completely forgotten he was, after all, a mortician. 

“Do I think what’s true?” you asked, a slow wave of deja vu rolling through your mind.

“That humans really go to a better place after they die…?” The way he said it, gazing almost longingly down at the tombstones as they lay still and heavy on the frost-laced grass, made you start to see him in a new light. He was holding a shovel in one hand. You realized he’d probably been the one to dig the ditches and then bury the couple six feet deep.

Instead of giving him an answer though, you instead turned your view back to the graves, reading their names, their dates of birth and death, and then, carved beneath the proof that there were indeed people sleeping beneath the slabs, the matching epitaphs marking the smooth stones.

“Potentia Regere…” you repeated, more to yourself than anyone else. “What does it mean?”

Stabbing the shovel’s sharp tip down into the ground, Undertaker simply stated, “Power to rule…” It was the Phantomhive’s motto, in a sense, the latin words appearing on the family’s coat of arms. You were just about to make a comment about how surreal it all seemed, the fact that something that quickly had become so commonplace in your weekly schedule was now no more, but then the gentle clinking of a mysterious sound you’d heard before interrupted your reminiscence.

“What is that?” you asked, searching for the source. When Undertaker gave you a confused look, you clarified, “That sound? I’ve heard it around you before…”

“Ah…” he answered, a small, sad grin cracking on his lips. Then he pulled a brassy strand of several lockets from beneath his coat, the mementos chiming together more aggressively as he dangled them before you. “That would be these.”

As if requesting permission to take a closer look, you shyly cupped your hands out before you, allowing him to settle the chain into your palms for further investigation.

“They’re beautiful…” you sighed, inspecting each one individually, reading the names spelled out in neat cursive scrawl, the different shades of the hair tied into simple loops and pressed beneath the glass. Some of the dates engraved went back far before you were born, and, though his age often presented itself as ambiguous, definitely far before Undertaker could’ve been in this business. Though, instead of inquiring about this curious detail, the journalist part of you always hungry for answers, for the truth, you just swallowed and said, “There’s so many…”

In reply, Undertaker offered, “Well, I’ve known the Phantomhive family for a very long time.”

You handed the lockets back to him, watching as they disappeared back between the many folds of black fabric, and then the two of you stood in silence before the graves for what felt like a long time, the only sound the quiet whisper of the winter breeze.

Without even realizing, you found yourself crying, crystalline tears welling in your eyes, sparkling on the edge of your lashes, and then rolling down your cheeks in pairs. You tried to stay quiet, as if that alone could hide the emotion from the man standing directly beside you. And he wanted to reach out the moment he’d seen the tears welling, toss his shovel to the side and pull you into his chest, just let you cry into all his dark clothing until you had no more tears left.

But he remembered how you’d flinched the first time he’d tried to touch you, withdrawing from his proximity as if it were a plague. So instead, he settled for reaching for your hand, which was clenched into a fist and trembling by your side. That time, you didn’t pull away. Just shot him a sort of terror-struck look before your gaze softened and you used your free hand to cover your mouth, catching the first sobs that escaped through your lips, even giving his hand a squeeze as if to help ease your own pain.

Sensing that, perhaps this time, his touch was actually offering you some comfort, he decided to chance gently pulling you into his side, one long, slender arm snaking across your shoulders and back, hand rubbing up and down your arm as your body continued to shake with sorrow.

“I don’t even know—” you began, voice cracked and broken as you sucked in panicked, gasping breaths, “why I’m crying. I mean— they were— I was— it’s just—”

I know, he wanted to say, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, hoping the message was still delivered despite being unspoken. I know, you’re in pain right now.

And I’m sorry.

Human lives were so fragile. The only thing more delicate were their emotions.

Once you were finally able to catch your breath and calm down a little, you seemed to register his touch and quickly, albeit much more elegantly than before, distance yourself from it, clearing your throat as you settled your stance across from him, unable to meet his eyes— or at least the space that they should’ve been— that time around.

“I suppose we won’t be seeing each other quite as often anymore,” you noted, trying to force a smile, but it just came out crooked and sad. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot but…” You paused, feeling yourself wanting to hold the rest of your sentiment back but then forcing yourself to say it anyway. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m glad we both skirted the edges of those parties before.”

Now you allowed yourself to look up and offer him a new kind of smile, this one bittersweet and almost apologetic. And he could feel you already trying to sever the invisible tie that loosely stretched between you two, the purpose of your shared proximity suddenly gone and therefore pointless.

You were just about to turn and bid him farewell when he spoke, more urgent than you’d heard him yet. He said, “Would you like to join me for some tea?”

You considered him, as if this were another one of his games, a riddle to solve. “Wha— Now?” you asked, as if it were the most preposterous proposition anyone had ever presented you with.

“If now suits you,” he said, trying to regain some of his composure, pulling his coat tighter over his shoulders as the wind picked up. “I can’t say it’s as grand as the Phantomhive manor, but where I live isn’t too far from here.” He smiled again, soft and soothing, as he continued, “Though, I can promise the quality of the tea is just as refined.”

It was his last ditch attempt at making a joke in the current situation and, over the more personal time you’d spent with him, you’d come to gain a new appreciation for his dark sense of humor, so you gave a timid nod and said, “Alright then. Lead the way.”

He dropped the shovel and started walking, you trailing beside him over the stone spotted hills.

***

Undertaker’s living space was indeed a far cry from the luxurious, spanning halls of the Phantomhive manor. It couldn’t even really be considered a house, as far as you could tell. It was, in all honesty, a mortuary practice that just happened to have a small kitchenette and an even tinier bedroom hidden behind a curtain in the back. You supposed it made sense when he’d said he didn’t live far from the cemetery, when that was his workplace. But you didn’t care right now. The tea in the mug between your palms was hot, the aroma sweet as the steam rose from the surface of the liquid, Undertaker generously leaving the small jar of sugar cubes on the table before you to scoop in to your preference.

He was sitting across from you, your legs nearly intertwined under the cramped table, Undertaker more relaxed while you just tried to stay within your own personal space. Again it occurred to him, your aversion to physical touch, and he took a moment to study you, as if tracing the features of your face beneath the thin black netting of the mourning veil or the intricate lace detailing of the collar of your dress— black, to match him for once— could uncover your truth to him, your past.

“Been to a lot of funerals in your time, I imagine…” you commented, suddenly overwhelmed by the pressing silence, the steady ticking of the wall clock unbearably awkward. “If I may ask, what made you choose this line of work to begin with?”

Undertaker took a sip of his own tea, which tonight was bitter and black. It would’ve surprised you to learn he usually stirred several cubes of sugar into his tea, no matter the strength or blend of it. Looks could be misleading, this you knew first hand from all the undercover work you’d done, as well as the many apparently innocent faces that had turned out to be gruesomely guilty. But also, on the opposite hand, some people really did show you exactly who they were right from the start.

You were starting to think maybe he was nestled somewhere in between.

“It’s a solitary kind of life…” Undertaker replied, masking loneliness under a grin. “I suppose, at the time, I was suited to it.” He gave a shrug as he raised the cup to his lips again, like that answer didn’t pave way for a hundred more questions.

“At the time…” you repeated. “Meaning, not any longer?”

You weren’t even sure what the purpose of that inquiry was. Normally, every question you posed was carefully chosen, hand-picked in order to serve a specific purpose that would paint a broader picture of the overall story.

Undertaker’s picture had so far just been one big canvas filled in with black, a few streaks of silver, and a flicker of green. There was no clear shape, no clear narrative, but suddenly, by slipping into something a little more specific, something to fulfill your own personal curiosities rather than that of straightforward facts, it was like you’d decided to take your own brush to an artwork you’d only ever been an observer of.

You were not a painter, but sometimes even an inexperienced hand could craft a masterpiece.

Undertaker’s smile didn’t falter, but something in the lines of his figure tensed, as if you’d shone a light into all that darkness expecting a gruesome beast, only to find there was something vulnerable living inside after all. Something genuine. Something lonely. Something you could relate to.

“How about you answer me something…” he began, pitching his weight slightly forward to lean closer to you over the table, his chin now resting in his palm. “You don’t like being touched…” At first, he said it more as an observation than a question. Then, after allowing discomfort to fill you during the pause, he concluded with a curious and perhaps even slightly sympathetic, “Why?”

At this statement, you felt yourself stiffen. Undertaker didn’t so much as flinch, just continued to consider you as if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve, working through every angle before making his first move. After a while, with you offering no answer or comment to this, he added, “If you’d rather not talk about it—”

Your throat bobbed with a thick, dry swallow, as if you’d just been caught for a crime you’d tried desperately to cover up, like the word GUILTY was branded into your forehead. Your mouth opened and closed and opened again, some excuse or alibi withering and dying on the tip of your tongue. Then you said, “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” You were absentmindedly toying with a piece of frayed lace off the hem of your sleeve, searching for a believable story to tell him that wasn’t a complete lie, but also wasn’t the entire truth either. But then you sighed, defeated, and looked him in the eyes, that glint of emerald peeking through, and admitted, “It’s just hard for me. I’m not used to it, it’s… complicated.”

The legs of his chair scraped softly against the uneven hardwood as he leaned in even closer, his arm draped over the surface, palm facing upwards, beckoning you to reach into it, to give him a chance. You glanced from his hand, a scar crossing over the love line etched into his alabaster skin, then back to his face, wishing you felt brave enough to take his invitation, wanting to, but finding the fear of physical contact swelling inside of you like a balloon that was one breath away from bursting.

It was so hard for you to trust. It always had been. Had only gotten harder since you’d entered into your current line of work, all of humanity’s ugliest sides revealed to you on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis. But what did you do when you got scared while chasing a story?

You felt the fear and you did it anyway.

So, hesitantly inching your hand closer to his open-faced palm, merely hovering there for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether this was some kind of trap or not, you finally allowed yourself to make contact, fighting the urge to pull back upon the first flinch of his fingers beginning to curl around your own.

Once his hand had completely closed around yours, it was as if all the tension gathered within your frame burst like a firework, the glittering embers giving way to something uncharted. Something new, and slightly nerve-wracking, but pleasant all the same, once you actually allowed yourself to enjoy it.

Undertaker stroked his thumb along the top of your hand, his long, cool fingers brushing delicately against your soft skin, and you felt your next exhale stutter, eyes threatening to well with tears for an entirely different reason now.

“Perhaps I can show you…” he said, the words merely a whisper on his pale lips, “that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

When you met his gaze then, it was like seeing him for the first time, both of his emerald eyes on full display, as if he’d just decided you were worthy of his trust, to know and keep his secrets the same as he seemed so intent on knowing and keeping yours.

There was still a small part of you that wanted to protest, that had the urge to pull away and put as much distance between you and him as possible. But that voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well now, distant and unintelligible. What took over was a voice you’d never heard before, one you didn’t even think you had, and all it was telling you was to allow yourself to fall. That he would be there to catch you when you did.

***

Your breath hitched before his fingers even made contact with your skin, eyes fluttering closed, like you thought not seeing would make accepting what was about to happen any easier.

“I’ve got you…” Undertaker murmured, the cold press of his palm finally reaching your cheek. He gave you a moment, patient with you while you allowed yourself to relax against his touch, your gaze slowly opening and glancing up to meet his eyes. Being this close, you came to realize they weren’t just green, like you’d originally thought, but laced through with a webbing of ambers and golds, a thin ring of teal rimming the edge of each iris. You’d never seen eyes like that before, dangerously entrancing, enticing, and it once again resurfaced the notion that the question wasn’t necessarily who he was, but what.

“See?” he smiled, not a hint of malice or mischief tucked into the corners of his mouth that time, only gentle reassurance. “I’ve got you.”

You placed your hand around his wrist, grip light, just to let him know you wanted a little more time to let this sink in. He was right. There was really nothing to be afraid of. Only, your quick-fire heartbeat still seemed to want to convince you otherwise.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, you kept repeating in your mind, nothing to be afraid of.

You let your view of him slip shut again as he slowly moved his fingers further back to lightly comb through your hair, finding the pin that had been holding it in place and pulling it free, your locks spilling down from the tightly wound coil of a bun that had been perched at the back of your head.

He’d never seen you with your hair completely down, every Phantomhive party that you’d attended making sure to tie it back, keep it out of your way, so you could stay focused on your job and not find yourself fiddling with it. He gently combed his fingers through it, disturbing a few loose knots, smoothing it down and laying it over your shoulders after removing the veiled hat from its place on your head.

“Such a shame…” he remarked, voice still low and soothing. “You’ve been hiding such beautiful hair all this time.” You remembered his mourning lockets, the different shades of strands that had been encapsulated behind the glass. You wondered if anyone would ever grow to love you so much as to always keep a lock of yours on their person. The notion made your lonely heart pulse with a dull ache.

Letting out a stuttering exhale, you now set your view upon the cascade of silver that framed all those black clothes of his, the strands almost sparkling under the low light as they shifted from white to grey and back again depending on how he moved. What you wouldn’t give to be able to carry a strand of it around, secured in a locket and resting against your heart, like capturing a sprinkle of stardust to call your own.

“Can I…” you began to ask, trying to swallow down the slight tremble in your voice as you gingerly reached one shaky hand forward. “Can I touch your hair as well?”

At this, Undertaker let out a silky hum of a chuckle, his long fingers finding the nape of your neck and resting there as he replied, “But of course.”

You let your fingertips brush against the silky silver, threading your fingers through and lightly dragging them down, not a single tangle or knot to be found. You wondered how long it had taken him to grow this much hair, how often he must have to brush it to keep it so pristine, how many others had admired or envied it the very same way you were now.

“Would you like to come closer?” he asked next, catching you a little off guard. You let your hand fall back to your lap, his returning to rest on his knee, and your eyes filled with uncertainty. Then he added, “Only if you’d like, of course.”

You scanned his form, unsure exactly what he meant by come closer, though, based on the way he was sitting, you could only really think of one possibility and the mere suggestion alone was enough to make your cheeks heat and your head spin.

The embarrassment must’ve shown on your face, because a quiet laugh trailed after his next exhale as he assured you, “If that’s too much for you you’re still welcome to sit by my side…” And then, knowing you had a habit of accepting challenges, he added on, voice sultry and only slightly sinister, “Though, if you’re worried about your skirts getting in the way, I’d gladly assist you in removing them and—”

“Oh, just hush for once, will you?” you cut him off, growing a little indignant and far more flustered than before. Even so, you still found yourself standing, eying his lap wearily as you approached, both hands curled into tight fists around your skirts, lifting them a little as you went to settle over the tops of his thighs, having to take purchase on his shoulders for balance halfway through assuming this position.

You’d never been this intimately close with another body before, not since you were very small and your mother had scooped you up in her arms and carried you off to bed, your little legs lightly wrapping around her waist and not wanting to let go, wishing she’d let you sleep in her bed to help keep the nightmares away.

But now, being at this age, in this body, and feeling the press of him as you relaxed with your legs straddling his hips, things were much, much different.

His hands brushed against your waist, hovering there before finally settling, giving you time to adjust to the foreign touch. “Is this alright?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper. “If you need more time, I can—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice also quiet, forcing your gaze back up to his, as if to defy your hesitance. “No, this is fine. I’m fine.”

“You know,” he murmured, his lips pressed close to your ear, his breath fanning featherlight over the shell of it, and you could practically hear the way he was suppressing a smirk, “I must say, it really is a surprise how a woman as striking as yourself has gone this long without being spoken for. So which is it? Too particular to find the right partner or too spoiled by being overwhelmed with choice?”

You coughed out an abashed chuckle. “No, nothing like that…” you said. Then, falling more somber, “It’s more like… Being alone has just always been so much easier. I don’t have to answer to anyone. I don’t have to pretend. I get to do as a please whenever I please and…” You flashed him a guilty look. “I guess I never saw myself as the marrying type, so…”

Undertaker stared at you, all that chartreuse alight as if finally seeming to uncover what he’d long been looking for. Then his expression softened and he said, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Before you had time to think up some kind of rebuttal or rebuke, his fingertips were tracing the hem running up the side of your funeral dress, the dulled touch registering on your hips, then your waist, through your clothes, sending a gentle, ebbing wave of chills over your flesh, a delicate ghost of a gasp just barely sighed through your lips. His other hand came up to caress your neck, thumb brushing tenderly across your jaw, your cheek, allowing you time to decide you enjoyed it and sink deeper into his palm, the cool touch of his skin helping to soothe you.

And then, before you knew it, he was kissing you, taking the rest of your breath away as the hand that had found your waist began to roam, the careful path of his contact curving around to the small of your back, up towards your shoulder blades, your collar bones, down your arm to find the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, brushing against the faint thumping of your wild pulse just to feel the life humming from inside of you.

What surprised you even more was that you were kissing him back, leaning into the warmth of his mouth, chasing his tongue when he playfully tried to pull away, testing to see if you’d follow, if you’d try to seek him out once you got a taste. He let out a low chuckle, putting only enough space between your lips to look you in the eyes, see the way your pupils had blown wide with lust all from some simple touching and kissing alone.

“I wonder…” he murmured, that lilt of mischief stitched back into his tone, “if the other men who attended those parties ever fantasized about having you like this…” He then lightly took your chin between his lithe grip, slowly turning your view to face an old, dusty mirror perched against the wall, exposing the reflection of you straddling his lap, his hands touching you in a way you’d never let another man touch you before, and you felt your entire body catch flame, molten embarrassment welling from within the pit of your stomach and flooding up towards your head, the sudden, stifling heat making you dizzy with desire.

Undertaker sighed a puff of a laugh against the side of your neck before his lips found your throat, sucking a light bruise there, making something within you flutter, arousal flaring to life before settling to a slow, steady roll. And despite wanting to look away, shame halfway to choking you, you couldn’t tear your gaze from the view of your two bodies intertwined like this.

All this time, you’d thought it would be scary, being this vulnerable with someone, giving up that kind of control, but it wasn’t. It was like floating, rising from your body and leaving all the worry behind, allowing your world to become merely yourself, him, and the small, dimly lit room.

It was simple.

It was nice.

And, for once, everything just felt right.

But as his kisses became more messy, more urgent, and his hands were reaching under your skirts to knead at the bit of bare skin available on your upper thigh, his eager fingers hooking under the hem of your stockings, you felt yourself tensing, slipping from the moment as the fear of moving too fast flashed across your thoughts like a lighthouse beacon— just quick enough to warn of the oncoming danger that would befall you if you ventured too close to the rocky shore.

“Is this alright?” he asked, slowing down a little then, and you swore you heard something almost insecure flicker in his voice.

You took in a deep, grounding breath, nodded, and said, “It’s alright… I’ll tell you if it’s not,” and that was all the validation he needed to continue, his cool palms a relief against your heating skin, hands continuing to knead at the plush of your upper thigh, though a little more gently this time, fingertips nearly brushing against where you ran most hot and needy for him, causing a broken whine to escape your throat. Undertaker wondered if you’d ever heard yourself make those kinds of involuntary, beautifully obscene sounds before, if you’d ever pleasured yourself late at night once you finally found yourself alone, or if even the idea of that had been too much for you to bear.

He intended to introduce you to each and every one of your lovely, lustful notes tonight, wanting to discover just exactly what he could do to elicit specific moans or whines. You’d be upset with him if he told you his plan, surely, yet still, he couldn’t help himself.

Similar to how you couldn’t deny yourself a challenge, he had a habit of overindulging himself with his games.

“Wait…” you murmured, pulling away from the cradle of his chest just a fraction. “I want you to…” You swallowed, finding a lump in your throat that stuck like a dry pill, afraid to say what rested on the tip of your tongue. You looked at him through your thick curtain of lashes, almost feeling like you could cry again, so many intense emotions to face in a single day mixing together in your head. “I want you to take my clothes off…” The last half of your request all but withered and died into a pathetic whisper by the time it left your mouth, averting your gaze then.

Part of you expected Undertaker to tease you for your request, to try and rile you just to see the adorable look your face made whenever you were mad at him, but he didn’t. Instead, he hummed out a satisfied note, beginning to strip you of the many layers of your funeral attire one by one until all you were left wearing was your silky underclothes and stockings. He went to remove those as well, but you stopped him before he could, growing bolder in asking for what you wanted when you suggested he let you undress him first.

Unlike you, this was not Undertaker’s first experience with sex. It was, however, the first time he’d allowed someone to see all his scars in the fading daylight, usually preferring to hide them behind the shadows herded in by nightfall and the dimly candle lit rooms of London’s most high-end pleasure houses.

But he supposed this put you both on more equal ground, so he didn’t mind. Plus, he hardly thought you’d find them newsworthy enough to go around sharing to anyone who might ask. He also supposed, like you, he had some things that were complicated to explain too…

“Kiss me…” you sighed, your hands lightly settling back on his shoulders as you now stood mere inches apart, breathing in each other’s oxygen like the thick opium smoke that wastfed though the East End.

That time, neither of you seemed to hesitate. Hitching one of your legs up, a big palm splayed under the back of your thigh to keep it in place over his hip, Undertaker had your back pressed to the wall, the hard length of him that seemed to be growing more impatient by the minute nudging further into you until he couldn’t help but grind against your lace-clad core, pulling one of those delicate, delicious whines from your throat, swallowing it down into his own mouth and trading it for one of his choked-out groans as he pressed his erection even harder against you, both of you hungry— starving— for one another’s bodies by now.

You hadn’t even realized your hand had migrated down between his legs, just barely beginning to cup the bulge of him in your inexperienced little palm, until you felt him twitch beneath his underwear, suddenly gasping and going a little rigid with uncertainty again.

He was kissing you deep, the fervor of it all dying down a little once he sensed your hesitation. “Go ahead,” he panted, holding your chin between his fingers, searching your gaze, pleading with it. “Touch me. It’s ok…”

So you did.

You attempted to stroke what strained through the thin fabric until he just couldn’t take it anymore and reached under the waistband himself to free his cock from its confines, hissing through clenched teeth once it was in his hand, soon passed off into yours.

Truthfully, you were only half sure of what you were supposed to do. You’d heard some of the few ladies you’d grown close to occasionally share— or perhaps overshare— some of the details of their marriages, sex lives included, and whether they were bragging or complaining or just making a comment in jest, you’d picked up bits and pieces here and there throughout the years.

Whatever you were doing though, you seemed to be doing it right, because before long, Undertaker seemed to be losing any composure or control he had left. He braced himself against the wall with his forearm, hunched over you as a thin sheen of sweat began to break out over his pale skin like glazed alabaster, grunts and growls and groans slipping from his lips while you gripped him in your palm, hand sliding easily along his velvety length as more and more of his pearly pre-cum gathered and began to drip down the shaft.

“Fuck—” he swore, and for a moment, you feared you’d hurt him in some way, pausing and looking up at him with an apologetic worry tugging at your features. But then he was smiling at you, chest still heaving with labored breaths, but wearing a glow of pride. He’d meant it earlier when he’d said you kept finding ways to surprise him, but this was on an entirely different level. If he hadn’t already known what you did for a living, he would’ve guessed you hailed from one of London’s aforementioned brothels, the ones that only served the elite or those tied to them.

Though he was sure you still had some things to learn, he was glad he was laying claim to you first.

He’d be lying if he said he’d ever be willing to share you with anyone else after this.

“Don’t look so afraid, my dear,” he cooed, slowly beginning to guide you towards his tiny bedroom nook, your eyes locked on him, trusting he wouldn’t let you trip as you walked backwards, holding his hands to help steady you. “We’re only just getting started…”

Before you knew it, the backs of your knees were hitting the edge of the bed, you collapsing back to the mattress as Undertaker climbed atop you, all that silky silver hair creating a canopy around you as he admired the way you looked splayed out beneath him. It was too bad you were a fragile human, your years so numbered when compared to the countless ones he’d already lived and the countless more he’d experience long after you were gone. He wished there were a way he could keep you like this forever— so beautiful, so his—  but he knew that living souls weren’t as easily frozen in time as things like mementos and photographs.

If only he’d met you a few decades from now. Perhaps by then, he’d have found a way…

Before he could dwell on it for too long though, he became distracted with removing more of your clothes, the last shred of his lost somewhere along the short distance from the kitchen to the bed, and seeing you fully exposed to him now, presented in your rawest, ravishing state, it took his breath away.

He’d seen many bodies in his life, living and dead, only a handful of them on both sides that he’d truly considered stunning. But yours…

Yours was nothing short of divine. 

He wanted to touch every inch of you, learn your figure in a way he’d never forget. He wanted to know that, even long after you were gone someday, he’d still be able to remember the exact shape of your breasts, the raise of your ribs as you drew in breath and the dip of your waist, the soft curve of your tummy and the plushness of your thighs.

He wanted to be able to rewatch this night over and over again in his head, rewinding the film reel until it frayed, each and every frame already burned into his memory.

“Hey…” you spoke, quiet and concerned as you reached up to cup your little palm to his jaw, tracing the line of the scar that cut diagonally across his face by his cheek. “Is something…?”

Before you could utter the word “wrong”, Undertaker cradled his hand over your own, sinking closer into your touch now, soaking in its human warmth, and smiled for a moment, attempting to mask the melancholy behind amusement. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” he asked you, and it was then that any and all lingering uncertainty you had went out like candle flame swallowed by a strong breeze. You nodded, told him you were sure.

A part of you was still scared, but not of him. Just of the unknown.

Feel the fear and do it anyway.

You were choosing to trust him, but once you’d made up your mind about it, there was no going back. That’s just the kind of person you were, the kind of person he’d discovered you to be.

So, trying to help you further relax, he continued to reintroduce you to his touch, discovering the places you liked best and paying special attention there, earning more of those sweet, lilting mewls and whimpers that he’d quickly become so addicted to, until it came time for him to explore the most intimate parts of you, preparing you for what was to come.

“You’re beautiful…” you swore you heard him sigh, your pounding heartbeat drumming in your ears and drowning out the quieter sounds. As soon as he so much as brushed a teasing finger through your soaked folds, still careful to be gentle with you, you let out a choked cry, gripping his biceps for support, needing something— anything— to anchor yourself to.

“Just relax…” he said, voice low and soothing as he applied a little more pressure, spreading your growing slick further around, marveling at the way your sensitive little bud was already pulsing in pleasure, tight hole fluttering in anticipation. But you took a deep breath and tried to follow his instruction, allowing your body to sink further into the mattress. Praising you as he began to massage slow, skillful circles onto your clit, he said, “Just like that… So good, my beautiful girl…”

And then that thick, sticky heat was filling you from the inside again, threatening to spill out. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before and you didn’t want it to stop. For a moment, you wondered if this was all somehow some sort of very vivid dream, a fantasy, fearing you’d wake up to find you’d never even gone to visit the graves at all. But the way the sensation gripped you, body and mind and soul, was telling you otherwise, every nerve alight with the intensity of it all.

Warning you what he was about to do next might be a little uncomfortable at first, Undertaker slipped one of his slender fingers inside of you, causing you to wince at the slight soreness the sensation provided, but as he slowly pumped it in and out of you, helping you get used to the feeling, eventually you were wet enough that he could insert two, the stretch from his fingers alone causing a small squeak of pain to escape your throat, but still you didn’t want him to stop.

As he began to carefully scissor his digits inside your tight cunt he continued working on stimulating your clit to distract you from the discomfort. The mix of pleasure and pain was almost enough to put you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your neck craning as you felt the coil winding tight within your core threatening to snap. Gasping out a curse, legs trembling as the crescendo crashed over every nerve in your body, you came undone for the first time that night, the high that filled your veins mixed with the fading adrenaline making your brain melt into a hazy, sated state.

He was whispering something to you then, pressing gentle kisses along your forehead, your temples, your nose, your jaw, as his sweet sentiments were lost amidst the thumping of your pulse between your ears. You exhaled a shuddering sigh, eyes fluttering closed, feeling as if you could drift right off to sleep. But there would be plenty of time for rest later.

Undertaker still wasn’t done with you yet.

Sliding his thick cock between the dewy petals of your folds, he guided you back to the waking world, being the most tender he had with you yet. “Are you still doing alright?” he murmured, brushing a few stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. He was gazing down at you like he couldn’t even believe you were there, with him, like this, the angel he’d lured into his underworld.

You gave a feeble nod, gasping when you felt the tip of his cock catch on your fluttering little hole. In all truth, you weren’t sure how he was going to fit. You just hoped he’d prepared you well enough, though knew the first time would be the most trying.

“Just breathe…” he instructed, interlocking his fingers with yours, your hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. “Take as much time as you need. Just relax…”

As the first inch or two fought its way into your tight entrance, your body reflexively tensed to combat the pain. The stretch of him took your breath away, fragile, sensitive skin feeling as if it were about to tear to allow him more room, teetering on a razor’s edge of arousal and agony. But he was talking you through it, whispering reassuring praises into your ear, waiting until he felt your body adjust to him, rigidity melting away as he continued to pepper featherlight kisses across your skin, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed to until the sensation subsided.

Inch by inch, he worked his way deeper, and when you needed him closer, needed his chest pressed to yours to feel the stuttering beat of his heart, he obliged, scooping you up to straddle him again, both of you upright, face to face, him helping you begin to bounce lightly on his cock.

As the pace began to pick up speed, nearly every thrust into you had one of those melodic moans or lilting whines clawing their way up your throat, mouth remaining agape with silent cries as you felt yourself once again approaching that steep edge. With your head thrown back, neck exposed to him, Undertaker took the opportunity to suck a few more bruises into the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse, choking on his next growl as your cunt clenched around him painfully tight.

He gave one more harsh thrust upward into your wet heat, feeling you come undone, glistening arousal staining you both, before forcing himself to pull out, finishing no more than two seconds later as his warm, sticky seed spilled over your stomach and thighs, mingling with the sheen of your pleasure as it mixed between both your bodies.

Both of you were panting, shallow, ragged huffs fanning against each other’s skin as you slumped over him, completely spent, and he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close, never wanting to let you go.

He’d have to, eventually, but for now, he allowed himself to pretend you couldn’t be touched by things like disease or disaster or death, erasing your mortality from his mind, even if it were just for the duration he’d have you in his arms.

Suddenly, he was speaking your name, a gentle breeze of syllables leaving his lips as he rubbed soothing circles against your spine, coaxing you back to consciousness. Without lifting your head from his shoulder, all your limbs heavy, blood flowing slow and sweet as if your veins had been filled with honey, you nuzzled further into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent.

His question barely registered to you, causing you to mutter out a sleepy, “What…?” which caused him to quietly chuckle, feeling the light mirth rumble through his scarred chest.

“I said,” he repeated, “Are you feeling alright?”

You felt more than alright. You felt fantastic, but not in the loud, excited, energetic kind of way.

More like waking up after a long, much-needed sleep, still floating off the edge of your dreams, feeling tired but fulfilled.

Once the high faded, you were sure you’d feel the soreness, a dull ache already beginning to pulse between your legs, but you didn’t necessarily mind.

It would just be another reminder of him and the time you’d spent together.

And, truthfully, there was so much you wanted to say then. Like how you’d never thought you’d be able to connect with someone in this way, feel completely safe in their hands, even feel— dare you say it— loved.

But instead, all you managed in reply was, “I’m ok…” before you felt sleep swooping back in to claim you.

As you drifted off that time, you briefly wondered what a life with him would be like. If you’d eventually have to learn to call this curious place home, a cemetery sprawled across your backyard, a closet full of funeral clothing. Or if perhaps he’d be willing to trade some of his darkness for the pale light of your apartment, if he’d remember to water your flowers while you were at work and leave scraps out for the stray cats that came begging by your front door.

And if those within your circle— the ones who were always badgering you about when you were getting married or if anyone was currently courting you— would be surprised if you told them that, yes, you’d started seeing someone despite the numerous occasions you’d written off such partnerships as just not for you…

They’d surely have some opinions on the matter, and that would even be before they saw him standing at your side.

But let them gossip, let them talk, you figured.

You didn’t care what people said, what they thought. You just wanted to be able to see him again, to be with him again, and for a little while, at least, discover all the things fear had once convinced you that you’d never get to experience for yourself.

***

A few years after your first night spent with him, having had many more in all the time between, fate had called you away, choosing to relocate further up north once your mother grew ill, spending her remaining days by her side. Once she was gone and you found yourself back in funeral blacks, for some reason, you’d decided to stay. You’d written Undertaker, of course, and for that first year apart the back and forth correspondence had been quite regular.

You awaited his letters with a childlike giddiness, excitement unfurling its wings within your heart whenever a black envelope sealed with shining silver wax appeared among your mail, already beginning to tear it open before you’d even gone back inside from retrieving that day’s delivery from the mailbox down the hill from your late mother’s home, the house you now called your own.

You’d sit down to write him back the moment you finished reading the last word of his looping cursive scrawl, elegance and sharpness somehow occupying the same space.

But then, after so much time away from London, away from the life you’d grown so accustomed to, you’d found yourself growing lonely. Only, this time, instead of the dull ache your former solitary life had nurtured within you, the pain was now a knife’s stabbing edge, carving a hole out in your heart until it nearly became too much to bear.

Until you’d eventually met someone. Another man whose hair was just beginning to grey at the temples, yet nothing like Undertaker’s silver shine, and whose eyes were a deep forest green, not the startling chartreuse of your former lover’s gaze. 

Six months later, you wrote back to London to inform Undertaker of the wedding that would be held in the spring. He’d congratulated you, though was glad it was only on paper— if he’d been forced to fake a smile and sweeten his words to you in person you would’ve known it was a lie, seen the heartbreak etched onto his face as obviously as one of those jagged, shining scars— and after that, the flow of the letters slowly came to a halt.

You had ten beautiful years with your husband until death’s kiss touched him, leaving you a widow and, once again, alone.

By then, the north had become so small, its claws closing around you until it began to resemble a prison, a cage.

You fled, returning to London, unsure whether you were running from things you wanted to forget or towards a flame you thought you might rekindle.

But in all that time away, you’d gotten married. Perhaps it was unfair to assume Undertaker hadn’t done the same.

However, once you found him, grateful the funeral parlor was still right where you’d left it nearly fifteen years ago, you entered the shop, expecting to be greeted by a man who was all at once familiar to you and also not, surprised to find him just as you’d left him like an image out of an old photograph.

You’d expected time to have touched him, run its fingers through his hair, turning silver to ivory, leaving the first signs of laugh lines cupping his smile and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, similar to the ways it had begun to touch you. The sight should’ve brought you comfort but instead you found yourself feeling…

Uneasy.

The years had passed for Undertaker as quickly as the season’s had changed for you. But as you inched, slowly but surely, towards the winter of your life, there wasn’t even so much as a veil of frost creeping in to cover him.

Somehow, he had remained exactly the same, no matter how many days, weeks, months, or years went by.

You’d planned to smile and say something like, “It’s been a while, so I understand if you don’t recognize me,” but what came out of your mouth instead was a gasp and, “You’re—” before Undertaker stopped you.

“—Just about to sit down for some afternoon tea,” he filled in, his grin widening as if he’d been expecting you. And then, before you even had a chance to process the theories that were beginning to blossom in your brain, each one more ridiculous and paranormal than the last, he asked, “Would you care to join me?”

Your mouth hung open, any and all remaining questions dying on your tongue, a few sputtering squeaks catching in your throat before you closed your lips, cleared your throat and said, “Alright then.”

The time you spent sitting at that little table, legs nearly intertwined once more as you sipped at your cup of Earl Grey, two cubes of sugar stirred in, made you feel like no time— not years or over a decade— had passed at all since you’d seen him last.

Nothing had changed— truly nothing. Not his looks or his humor or the way being around him just made you feel calm.

He’d been in the middle of regaling some amusing tale to you from while you’d been away when all of a sudden you realized your eyes were welling with tears. His bout of laughter died down to a stark stoicism once he noticed, leaning forward, reaching out to rest his hand over yours, the familiarity of his cool touch only making more tears race down your cheeks in shimmering pairs.  He asked, “My love, whatever is the matter?”

You choked on a sob, gave his hand a squeeze. “I just missed you…” you admitted, trying to smile, though it just came out crooked and sad.

With his other hand, fingers partially warmed from holding his cup of tea, he lightly brushed away your tears, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, soothing you until your sobbing subsided.

Then he said, “I’ve missed you, too… In more ways than you can even imagine.”

You felt a new wave of sorrow threaten to wrack through you. Something akin to guilt. To shame. To mourning the life you could’ve had if only you’d come back sooner. If only you’d stayed.

“But please,” he continued, gazing upon you with concern now. “If you’re weeping on my behalf, don’t. Now that you’re here, we can just pick up where we left off… A human life is only so long, after all…”

You looked at him, half confused, half afraid, and he almost told you then. Told you that he wasn’t like you, wasn’t burdened with the fragile shortness of a mortal life. But he didn’t.

He wanted you to ask first. Wanted to hear you say the words you’d been wondering since the very first night you met.

And you would, eventually.

But for now you just wanted him to hold you while you finished your tea and try and make up for so much lost time.

***

Twenty years later, you were unmarried, plagued by the illness that had claimed your mother, and had long given up tracking down shocking stories to fuel your own morbid curiosities.

But you were not alone.

You’d remained in the funeral shop, though made several more cozy additions to its decor over the years— a couple little houseplants dotting the windowsills, your mother’s cookbook placed up in the cabinets of the little kitchenette, lace hems and embroidery on the pillowcases fluffed upon the freshly made bed.

This place had become home before you’d ever even made the decision to stay, though perhaps that was more due to Undertaker’s proximity than anything else.

Even as your joints grew stiff and your movement became sluggish, your hair greying and your eyesight failing, Undertaker still remembered to remind you how beautiful he thought you were, how much he loved you, how you’d always be his most favorite girl. He’d dance with you by the light of the moon, leading you in a lulling waltz as he hummed out a melancholy tune. He’d carry you to bed when he found you sleeping in a chair, whatever mystery novel you were reading open face-down on your lap.

To experience love in this way was the greatest gift either of you had ever received, the devotion binding at times, yet there was still one last secret you had to uncover before you didn’t have the chance to anymore.

It wasn’t until you were nearing your life’s end that you finally asked him, “What are you?” and he actually gave you the truth.

“So you’re the dark cloaked figure who comes to guide souls into the afterlife, are you?” you joked after he’d given a surprisingly detailed explanation of what he was— what he’d been, before he’d defected— and what he’d continue to be no matter how long he tried to hide behind the mask of the eccentric funeral director. You coughed out a weak chuckle from where you lay tucked into bed, reaching out to run your rigid, wrinkled fingers through his long silver locks. Dreamily, quietly, as if only to yourself, you muttered, “I should’ve known…”

“I wanted to tell you…” he admitted, “Before, I mean…”

“No,” you said, “it’s better you didn’t. I don’t think I would’ve understood back then. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Now, with your death so imminent, learning his identity actually made the thought of your final breaths more comforting. Because you now knew dying would feel like falling asleep in the arms of a lover, gentle and safe. Protected. Cared for.

And when that fateful day finally came to pass, it was Undertaker who claimed your soul, wanting to be the first and last person to lay their hands on it, not intent on allowing any of those dispatch drones to touch it with their sharp tools and sterile indifference. 

He dressed your body, laid you in your coffin, and dug your grave. Though it wasn’t in the cemetery among all the other headstones. It was right outside the kitchen window, where your houseplants continued to grow, the sun rising to shed its soft golden light upon the room through the eastern window and bathing the place in deep amber as it lowered below the horizon in the west, your favorite place to sit and drink your morning tea and read in evenings.

Losing you was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but whenever he was feeling lonely, he’d wander out and look down at your name etched into the smooth, pale stone, read your dates to himself, reciting them like a prayer.

You had been so much more than just an epitaph, once upon a time, but at least now Undertaker could come visit you as often as he liked, and tucked beneath his coat, pressed safe behind the glass of his lockets, was a strand of your hair, a piece of you he could carry with him for the rest of his days.

***

(A big thank you to @anxious-chick for your request! I hope it’s ok I sort of took your concept and ran a marathon with it lol, but once I started developing some plot I just got really into it and couldn’t help myself haha. Thank you for being so patient with me as well, I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.

Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading. I’ve been wanting to write for Undertaker again for a long time and I’m glad this opportunity presented itself. Hope everyone has a good day and remembers to be kind to themselves. See you next time <3)

#kodis requests #undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker black butler #black butler undertaker #black butler #black butler fanfiction #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x y/n

[mjlfilms]

The Power of the Dog (2021)

#the power of the dog #jane campion #benedict cumberbatch #kirsten dunst #kodi smit mcphee #jesse plemons #film #cinema #nature #flowers #alcohol #movie details #western #drama #books #my edit #requested

[sweetlemongrove]

Angsty Shit, Lemon's Version

Hey so remeber when I accidentally deleted my whole blog? Yeeaaaaaah, well I found some of my old content on Hammy's (@capitalisticveins) blog so I wanted to repost it here

So yeah, enjoy some sad

📼Angel gets mugged/drops their engagement ring and can’t get it back. They feel horrible having to confess it to David, guilty for losing it for both the money and work he put in to picking it out 

📼Asher gets flashbacks from his time during the Inversion

📼Milo gets a phone call/visit from his dad

📼Aaron has been spending way too much time at the office. A suspicious amount.

📼Ollie gets sick. Really sick. Needs hospitalization level sick. 

📼The usually (flirty) physically affectionate Gavin stops being so cuddly and touchy towards Freelancer, for supposedly no reason. 

📼Lasko gets stood up

📼Cutie gets help they need in order to improve as a partner. Alas, Geordi has moved on, and is extraordinarily happy with his new one, another telepath who doesn’t constantly read his mind 

📼Kody comes back. 

📼Sam gets a visit from Alexis. Darlin is about to rip her head off. 

📼Lovely cries over the lose of their powers. (Same thing with the Milo shifting episode with no happy ending)

Welp that's all for today folks. I'm going to try and either find/remake my old posts/writing but please feel free (and please do) send in requests or ideas for me. Help me get back in the swing of things. Thank you so much :)

Edit: I'd also like to add that Hammy wrote Lovely's angst idea as a fic! Go check it out!

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted david #redacted angel #redacted asher #redacted babe #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted aaron #redacted smartass #redacted ollie #redacted baby #redacted lasko #redacted gavin #redacted freelancer #redacted alexis #redacted kody #lemonwrites #squeezeoutthoughts

[0sincerelyella]

request: I was thinking a Disney trip with the team, and Andrei and the reader get closer and the team teases Andrei about it?

Lover Boy ~ Andrei iosivas

Summary: Andrei and the team go on a team bonding retreat to disney, they each get to take a spouse or loved one and andrei brings his girlfriend, y/n, who has never met the team unlike the other girls have. she lives across the country, and hasn’t seen andrei in a long time. this vacation will be one to remember

notes: AHHH i love love love andrei iosivas guys

(THE TOUNGE??????)

Y/n excitedly wheeled her bag into paycore stadium with andreis hand into her own. “You seem happy beautiful” he smiled, spinning her. she smiled. “i am!” andrei couldn’t keep his eyes, or his hands, off of y/n. he hadn’t seen her in months. he has been so busy with football that he hasn’t been able to see his girl at all, he hasn’t been angry at her for not coming to his games, in time she will make it to every single one. but for now he only has to be patient.

he walks with her, she never leaves his side as they make their way to the team. “Hey guys” he greets, stepping into the huddle of team members, to which y/n steps back.

she watches as the large group of tall men all huddle together laughing, smiling, cracking jokes. she’d watched them play football together a thousand times, only now was she seeing the real chemistry they had. she watched as joe and jamar did some weird handshake and some of the other man children goof off around them. y/n stands away, too afraid to interfere and even more afraid to speak to the spouses and other family members.

tianna robbillard, cody fords wife, noticed. tianna and olivia made their way over to y/n with wide, bright, welcoming smiles. “hi! your andreis girlfriend?” y/n smiled shyly. “yeah, my names y/n!” she greeted. tianna pulled her into a tight hug, giving her the warmest welcome.

andrei watched from his group as y/n made friends with the wives and girlfriends of the team. he smiled.

this team and job were so very important to him, and so was y/n. the fact that he could share this with her was so heartwarming to him.

the plane ride was definitely a different experience for y/n. she sat with tianna and olivia so that andrei could have his time with his guys, but he sat in the isle seat next to her isle seat so that they could still talk to each other, as they all joined in on a huge conversation

it was like a class took a field trip and everyone was bonding with everyone.

after the plane ride, y/n and andrei reunited at the hotel, dropping bags off to their own room, getting to spend nights together for the first time in months. y/n and andrei made their way to the lobby, laughing and giggling together. y/n jumped on andreis back as he runs through the halls like children.

when the two made it with the others jamar was giving andrei a look. “hey lover boy, get over here” y/n smiled, jumping off andreis back. “when’s it my turn for a piggy back ride?” joe asks, a happy smile covering his face as he held his arms around olivia’s shoulders. tianna walks over to y/n, a new found best friend. “i’m stealing you from yoshi” she says, to which andrei testifies “no no!” he grabs y/ns arm, while tianna grabbed the other, fighting over who rode with y/n first. kody shook his head. “your both over the age of 25, your acting ten” he sighed, picking tianna up over his shoulder and the group was on the bus to disney.

andrei keeps his arm over y/ns shoulder the entire walk into disney and around, each ride that was chosen was an argument on who got to ride where. y/n even once got a ride with joe burrow, him claiming “i want to see why everyone thinks riding with her is so fun” (he didn’t want to have to ride with jamar screaming in his ear anymore as olivia ride with evans wife)

y/n laughed and giggled like a child the entire time. at the end of the night FINALLY getting a ride with andrei. as the camera came up the two kissed down the mountain, preparing to cherish that photo for the rest of their lives.

andrei bought it, along with y/n buying every picture she took with the girls and some of the boys.

that night, at the hotel, andrei helped y/n in his arms as they layed on the bed together. “i love you y/n” he whispered, playing with her hair. he pulled her to his chest, humming in her ear. “i love you too yoshi boy” she smiled. andrei gave her a charming smile, his goofy charming smile. “you know, your gonna be a yoshi some day too”

“you have to ask me first” y/n said, flipping on her stomach to look into his eyes. his chest moved up and down as his eyes were half open. “just you be patient pretty girl, just you be patient” andrei had plans, no matter how much grief his team would give him, he had plans.

he held his girl tightly, as close as he could to make sure she was safe as he felt her drift off into her dream filled sleep. “my girl” he whispered, humming a soft lullaby into his happiness that layed in his arms.

his future wife, his forever, his always. the two melt together as sleep takes them both

no one can take their love away with no matter how many words they speak. their love is there own.

no one can take that away

#yoshi #andrei iosivas #bengals wr #cincinnati bengals joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #bengals lb #bengals wags #bengalsvs49ers #cincinnati bengals #bengals (nfl) #bengalsvictory #nfl fluff #nfl fic #kinda funny ngl #nfl fan fic #nfledit #nfl imagine #nfl lb #nfl vlog #nfl players #nfl #nfl football

[angel-shaw]

Here’s the Lasko/his listener one I made!

@annahxredaxted here you go!!

Thank you to @meepisindahouse for beta reading! <333

Kody is their little brother but they don’t know what he did, till Lasko tells them-

“Hon, you know I love you but you've to at least try, I cant keep doing this,” They said exasperated.

Their brother was sitting on their couch once again, venting about how people at his school were targeting him and even getting him kicked out of his dorm.

“I did! It's not my fault everything is against me!”

“I know bud, but this keeps happening, you know you have at least some part to play. You always blame the people around you for everything, so it makes sense why they don't like you. I'm not saying it's ok for them to get you kicked out, but you could at least try to be more pleasant and not as back-stabby.”

“Stop siding with them! The shit they accuse me of is total bullshit! I'm nothing but nice to these people and then they get their friends to target me! I had nothing to do with these other people!”

They sighed, “Look I know, but my neighbors are getting really fed up with you showing up randomly and making a bunch of noise. If they report me again it's going to start being an actual problem that can get me kicked out of here. I don't mind you staying here, hell, it's nice to see you, but it can't keep happening this way, /please/.”

Their brother sighed, rolled his eyes, and fell back onto the couch, “Ya ya, whatever. Your neighbors suck.”

“Thank you Kodes, Now I have to run out for some food. Any requests?”

“Mmm, I don't care. You can't just make something?”

“Tomorrow I can, but I’m having dinner with my boyfriend tonight so I'm just going to grab something for you.”

Once again their brother groned, “Can't you just tell your boy-toy that you can’t see him tonight?”

“Don't call him that. I actually really like him Kodes, I think this one’s gonna last.”

Defending their romantic relationships from their brother's scrutiny wasn't new. He was always annoyed whenever they got with someone. The two were always close growing up and Kody always hated when they went out with guys. There were quite a few relationships that ended poorly because Kody got in the way.

“Ya ya whatever, I doubt it. I just wish you would hang out with me and not with some guy who's probably gonna dump you.”

They sighed, “I'm gonna go to the store, I'll be back soon.”

“See ya,”

They grab their keys and head out.

Shopping didn't take long, but well they did they thought about how much their little brother had changed over the years. He used to be so sweet, but something happened after they had moved out. The next time they saw Kody was when he got into D.A.M.N, after they had become a teacher. They had tried to meet up with him multiple times before then but he never seemed interested.

When he started at D.A.M.N. he ignored them for months, they tried to talk with him but he always had some things to do, which was fair enough. He was grown up now and had classes. But at some point something had happened and he ended up getting expelled. He asked them not to do anything about it, but he did crash at their place for a while after it happened. They were ready to try to fight for him, but he practically begged them not to, saying that he didn't want their career to suffer. So they didn't, they just helped him get into a new place and get back on his feet.

As they walked back up to their apartment they saw a familiar face, “Lasko?”

Lasko turned, “Oh! H-hey, I was just on- on my way to pick y-you up.”

“Oh is it time already? I'm sorry, I went out to get some stuff for my brother.”

“Your br-brother? I didn't know you had one? Does he live with y-you?”

“No, he's just staying with me for a few days. I'm excited for our date tonight! Just let me drop this stuff off and put on something a bit nicer, ya?”

“Y-Ya that's totally fine!”

The two of them walked back to their apartment door.

“Do you want to come in? I'll be quick,”

“Ya, s-sure!”

They let themselves and Lasko in, “Kodes I’m back! Laskos here, so be nice!” They drop the bags off on the tables and see a scribbled note.

“Went out

Be back to eat”

They sigh, “Sorry Lasko, it looks like my brother went out so you'll have to wait to meet him,”

“Oh! That's alright! I’ll j-just sit on the couch till you're ready,” Lasko smiled and went to sit.

As they got ready, Lasko looked around. There wasn't much on the walls, but there were some framed pictures. Curiosity got the best of him so he started to look closer. He got up and smiled at his lover's happy face in the pictures.

There was one where they were holding their little brother when they were kids, they were both so cute. It was labeled “Kodes and me<3”. However as he looked, one of the pictures made him stop, his blood running cold. He could feel the air around him tighten in his anger. The picture was labeled just like the other. “Kodes and me<3” It was Kody. The same Kody who had hurt Freelancer, the same one who had led people to their deaths by being a dick during The Inversion. He was… their brother….

He didn't realize how much time had passed until their hand touched his shoulder, he jumped and turned around.

“Lasko? Are you alright?”

“Kody’s your brother?”

“Mhm, Do you know him? This doesn't feel like a good thing.. Did he say something to you too? I know he's not the best sometimes but I didn't think he knew you?” The worried laced their voice, they had no idea. They couldn't have any idea, they were so sweet, there was no way they would care for him if they knew. But how could they not??

“Oh I know him.” He could hear his own voice, he was angry. He stopped, took a deep breath, and looked at them.

“Do you not know why he was expelled from D.A.M.N?” He was quiet, he had to be.

They shook their head, “No, he asked me not to get involved, that it wasn't worth it. So I just figured he did something stupid and pissed the wrong people off…Did…Did he do something?”

“He was the one who hurt Freelancer.”

Everything stopped, their eyes widened as they processed what that meant. They had talked to Freelancer quite a bit. They had told them about the bad experiences with another student, but never said his name. The kid had bridged with them without them knowing what it meant, then continued to harass them. It only stopped when the kid was expelled and that only happened because their friends had convinced them to take action and helped along the way. That…that couldn't have been their baby brother. He was a jerk sure, but he wouldn't do that….He couldn't.

“It…it was him? Are you sure?? 100%?!”

Lasko nodded.

Their eyes began to water, completely overwhelmed, they sat on the floor. Lasko dropped with them, holding their hands tightly.

‘’I…I'm so sorry, I…I knew he was causing his own problems but I never imagined he could do something like that…”

“I know, it's not your fault.”

They shook their head, “What- What do I do? I- he’s my baby brother but..but he..I can’t..”

“I know, take a deep breath. I know this is hard.”

“I…can't, I can't have him here..I can't support him like this…He..he's really terrible isn't he? He really is a bad person isn't he??” They broke down into sobs, clutching onto Lasko.

He rubbed their back as they sobbed, they kept repeating that same question, “He really is a bad person now isn't he? Oh god he is, it really was him.”

After some time they pulled back, their breathing still heavy and their cheeks tear stained.

“What..what do I do?” They sounded so lost. “He, he can't stay here, I won't let him but how…how do I tell him to leave? It feels like I can't just kick him out…he's…he's my baby brother but…I can't…how do I…”

Lasko took a deep breath, “I know it's hard, I-I know it's hard to cut off family. You don't have to do this by yourself. I can call Freelancer and Gavin ask if Gavin can come help. I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping get Kody out. D-Damien and Hux too.”

“God, I have to tell Freelancer, don't I? I have to tell them he's my brother-”

“Hay,” Lasko’s soft voice cut through the impending second breakdown, “Freelancer won't blame you, they know you. They will not blame you, you didn't know and were just helping your brother. You know now and you're not trying to defend what he did. It's going to be ok.”

They nodded, “Can…can we call Freelancer? I don't think I'll be able to kick him out by myself…”

“Of course.”

One call later the two of them were on their way to Freelancer’s apartment. It wasn't a long drive but it felt like it. They were too emotional to drive so Lasko did, during the drive he held their hand and kept telling them it would be ok, but it didn't feel like it.

Once they reached the apartment Gavin let the two in instantly, his usual playfulness missing. The three went into the living room where Freelancer was sitting with several cups of tea.

“Hey, there you are,” Freelancer's voice was soft, they got up and hugged them.

“I'm so so sorry, I didn't know-” They held Freelancer tight and they could feel the tears start to resurface.

“No no no, it's alright. It's not your fault.” Freelancer lightly swayed the two of them, “You didn't know, you were just caring for your family, I can't and won't ever blame you for that. His actions are his own, never yours.”

“He hurt you..”

“He did, I didn't deserve what he did. But he does deserve what happened to him and he doesn't deserve someone as sweet as you as a sibling.”

“I'm so sorry.. I..I didn't know what to do..”

Freelancer pulled back, taking their hand and led them to sit on the couch. They handed them a cup of hot tea, “I know, I can't say I know what to do either, I've never been in a situation like this before.”

“I don't want him near me, I love him because he's my brother, but…but my baby brother wouldn't do something like this. I don't know what happened, I don't know why he turned out like this…’’

“I can understand that, I can't relate to having someone who I care for turn out to be like how Kody is. I'm so sorry that you have to go through this too. I might not understand the care you have for him, but you can vent to me about it, I know this is hard.”

“I can't ask you for that! He violated you, I can't vent to you about-”

“Let me stop you there,” Freelancer interrupted, “You're not asking, I'm telling you and offering you to. I know what he did to me. It took me a long time to come to terms with it and well, I am still affected by what he did. That doesn't change that you are a friend of mine. He hurt you too by doing all of this. I might not be the person to tell how kind and sweet he used to be in a dream like way you can't talk to me about how this has hurt you too. Without my friends, Lasko, Damien, Hux, and Gavin, I wouldn't have recovered. Some of those conversions were about how Kody wronged them, or how they were upset about how he hurt me. And those helped, it was another perspective. I don't ever plan to forgive him and I never want people to try to defend him to me. You ranting to me isn't you defending him, it's just giving me another reason to never forgive him. He hurt another one of my friends.”

They nodded, “Thank you,” They sniffled and Freelancer placed their hand on their arm.

“I just don't understand how he could have turned out like this.. He used to be so sweet, I knew he changed and that that change wasn't good but I never thought he would do something like this.”

“We never expect the people we care about to be monsters,” Gavin said, he was standing behind the couch, his hand on his lover's shoulder, “It's hard to accept that sometimes they are.”

Freelancer nodded, “What do you want to do? I know you said you don't want him in your place anymore, but there are a few ways we can go about that.”

“I…I honestly don't know. I don't think I can just kick him out by myself. I don't want him there, but…”

“I understand don't worry, you don't have to explain yourself to us. Do you want Damien and Huxly to be there with you and Gavin? That way you're not alone? I would offer to go, but I don't want to be anywhere near him.”

They nodded, laughing breathlessly, “Ya, I get that. I don't want you to go anywhere near him either. I want to tell him to get out myself, having the others there would be nice. I don't think he will react well though, I don't want anyone getting hurt-”

“Oh trust me, Aquafina won't hurt any of us. He's learned that lesson. If he tries anything he won't get far.” Gavin said. His smile was slightly disconcerting. ‘:3’

They nodded, “Can you guys explain it to the others, I don't think I can explain it again..”

“Of course, Gavin and I will do that, you and Lasko can sit here while we call, ok? If you need something to eat feel free to rummage, ok? And all the tea is open for you.”

Lasko took Freelancer's place once they got up, “How are you doing?”

“Not good, honestly,” They laughed, though there was no humor in it. “It doesn't feel like I'm drowning at the moment, but this is so much to accept. It's a whole another layer that it's so easy to believe all of it… I think that's the worst part of it all. How easily I can believe Kody did all this..”

They let Lasko hold them. They both just sat there for a while.

After a while Freelancer and Gaivn walked back in, “The others are on their way. They were grabbing food so they grabbed some for all of us as well, Hux said food might help.”

“Hux is so sweet..”

“He really is.”

“Freelancer?”

“Ya?”

“Thank you, I know this has to be hard for you. I'm sorry for making you think about him all over again. But thank you for helping me.”

Freelancer smiled, “Of course. This is hard, but I mean hey, at least we have one more thing we can gossip about as if it wasn’t heavily traumatizing now?”

They laughed, caught completely off guard.

Over the next ten minutes the four of them talked lightly. They weren't ignoring what was going on, but more giving them a chance to calm down before having to do the hardest thing they needed to do.

Huxly and Damien arrived and Huxly immediately asked if they wanted a hug, they accepted. His hug felt safe and they stayed there for a while Damien handed out food. Once all of them settled down Lasko and Freelancer explained a bit more to the other two. They both listened intently.

They also immediately agreed to help get Kody out. The room heated up a few degrees even as Lasko explained.

“I want to talk to him…I want to tell him to get out,” They said. That was the only thing they were completely sure of.

“Ok, so we obviously want a game plan going in, Kody definitely isn't going to be happy. I wouldn't put it past him to try to get violent. Especially if he thinks you're alone.” Damien was logical and it helped them feel safe.

“If you want to be the one to tell him, I completely respect that, but I don't want to run the chance that he'll hurt you,” Huxly said. “Maybe we can wait out of sight until he tries something?”

“That still puts them in danger though,” Damein said.

“I mean..can..can you be in the room with me, Lasko? I know it's a lot to ask. I'm not worried about Kody really trying to hurt me but that's because I don't think he would. So that's based on an idealized version of him. I don't want to be alone in a room with him..”

“O-of course! I- I understand why you don't.”

“Ok. So here's the plan so far, Me, Hux and Gavin will be off the side, out of sight. Lasko will be in the room with you as you confront him and if he gets aggressive the three of us will step in and get him out and make it clear you don't want him to come crawling back. Freelancer are you going to stay here then?’’

“Ya, I’ll stay here and make sure all the wards and such are ready for when you guys come back.”

“What do you mean?” They asked, They were leaning against Lasko on the couch.

“Well, you're not going to stay at your place /obviously/. Kody is the type to try shit so once he assumes the others are gone, he's going to try to pull something. So we won't give him the chance. The best way to combat that is for everyone or at least most of us to stay here tonight. We have wards already set up against Kody, so even if he tries to follow you guys on the way back he won't be able to even come close. Plus I know it's not good to be alone after a bunch of stuff goes down.”

“I- Thank you..that..that means alot to me…I would really like that actually.”

Freelancer smiled, “Of course, you're our friend. We aren't going to let you go through this alone.”

They took a deep breath, “Let's do this. I want to get this over with.”

The others nodded.

Everyone except Gavin and Freelancer got into Lasko’s car. Gavin decided to rift ahead to make sure Kody wasn’t back yet. Damien drove this time.

“Hay dude, are you sure you wanna do it this way? This shit’s hard.” Hux asked.

They took a deep breath, “Yes. He's my brother, I have to be the one to do it. It will be hard but having someone else do it will make him think it wasn't my choice. If I need you guys I'll say so, don't worry. Just knowing you guys are there makes me feel safer..”

Hux smiled and patted their shoulder.

Once they got to the apartment building Gavin met them at the door.

“I'll text Kody to come back and you guys can just go into my room, it's a pretty small place so it's not far from the living room and you guys should be able to hear everything. Lasko if you want to be in sight you can be on the couch, if not the hall should work, He won't see you at first I don't think.”

“Ill s-sit with you. I don't w-want you do this al-alone.”

“Thank you Lasko,” They took his hand and pulled him into a tight hug.

Ten minutes later, Kody said he was on his way and the guys got into place, Lasko and them taking their seats on the couch.

Once Kody opened the door and walked in, he didn't immediately notice Lasko. “Finally you’re back, I didn't think your stupid date would be so long. What the hell were you even doi-” He stopped completely once he saw Lasko on the couch.

“Why the hell are you here?! Get away from them!” He yelled.

Kody yelling immediately caught them off guard, but they stood, “Don't talk to him like that. I know what you did, Kody.”

“I didn't do shit! Whatever bullshit he is telling you is a lie!”

“I know he's telling the truth, Kody. I want you out.”

“You barely know him and you're going to believe just anything that comes out of his mouth over me?! I’m your brother for fuck’s sake!”

“Kody you bridged with someone who didn't want that!”

“They said they did! I didn't do anything wrong!”

“They didn't know what that meant! You can't just say that and make it alright! What else have you done?? What else did you do and then come crawling to me for help when you got punished for it?! What the hell Kody?! I knew you were getting bad, but I never thought you would do something like this!”

‘You’re my sibling, you're supposed to support me! This is just that dumb fucking Freelancer trying to ruin my life even more!”

“Get out, Kody.”

Kody laughed, “You're not actually making me leave.”

“Out.”

“I'm your brother, I have nowhere else to go! Do you really want me out on the street??”

“You'll figure something out, I'm sure. But even if you don't it's what you had coming for pulling all of this shit.”

“I'm not going anywhere.’’

“Guys.”

Kody looked confused for a split second until Gavin appeared right in front of him. He stumbled backwards. Domain and Huxy came out into the living room, Lasko now standing and holding his lover.

Kody immediately tried to attack but was immediately shut down by Gavin. “I don't think that's a good idea.” He said coldly.

“Oh?! So the Freelancer really is collecting everything they can?!! They're just as bad as what you are!” Kody spat.

Despite knowing this could happen they still held tightly to Lasko’s arm.

It didn't take long after that. The three others got Kody out and definitely made sure Kody knew they didn't want him back. They were pretty sure Hux had to stop Damien from punching him more than once.

Once Kody was out he banged on the door for a bit, but Gavin soon let them know he had stormed off.

They all spent some time in the living room, it wasn't long until they started to cry in Lasko’s arms. Gavin and Huxly were kind enough to go and get a bag ready for them. Well Lasko told them which clothes to grab and some other items.

After a while they were able to calm down, Damien and Lasko sitting with them as they breathed. Once Gavin and Huxly had gotten two bags ready for them they all went back out to Lasko’s car, Gavin deciding to rift ahead to let Freelancer know it was over. Lasko grabbed their blanket and wrapped them up in it.

They made it back to Freelancer’s without any problems which was nice. The four of them were mostly quiet, but once they got back to Freelancer’s the mood seemed to switch.

“Do you need quiet or noise? Either one is alright. If you want to try and just process everything it's alright, or if you want to relax for a bit and try to have some fun to get your mind off it. We've got Mario Kart and a bunch of other things we can all play.”

“Can…Can you guys play? I don't think I can focus on controls but I love watching you guys play.”

“Ya of course! Now, what do you want for food? Snacks? Drinks?”

They laughed lightly.

That's how they ended up sitting in between Lasko and Freelancer on the couch. Listening and laughing as the others played and yelled at each other. The day was hard and painful. That pain wouldn't go away fast but they had people who truly cared for them, and maybe that would be enough.

“Thank you,” They whispered to Freelancer once again.

Freelancer smiled and threw their arm around them, “Don't worry about it, Now you sure you don't want a turn? I bet you'll crush these losers.”

“Hay!”

They laughed and took the controller, “I'll try once I guess.”

#redacted asmr #redacted #Redacted audio #redacted lasko #redacted listener #redacted dear #redacted freelancer #Redacted kody #redacted damien #redacted hux #redacted huxley #redacted gavin #Kody is listeners little brother

[roosterm3at]

If the requests are still open, would you be willing to draw the farmer (or if you don't have a farmer than Sam, who is very concerned about minimizing Morris' rage) helping Shane through his withdrawals

i need to give my farmer kody a actual ref eventally

#stardew valley #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #shane stardew #asks

[local-yurei]

Strawboyic - a gender connected to (being a) strawberryboy(s).

etymology: (straw)berry, boy, ic

requested by: @kodi-iii

[ID: a rectangular flag with 7 stripes, coloured as such from top to bottom and mirrors after the last: dark green, blue-green, pink, light pink. End ID]

#━🌙+.✧┊ coining #—🌠.*✮° requests #zakkorz #gender #xenogender #neogender #mogai #liom #strawberrygender #strawboyic

[absentia-if]

a prompt list appears 👀

Can I request “Where have you been?” for M please ? I need a little bit of fluff after the angst :((

honestly do what you want with this prompt, even if it's angst. i love what you write

"Where have you been?"

The question causes startled blue eyes to shift from their current balancing act, various bags precariously placed on their arms, to your stern one. Though an expression of warmth and happiness offsets it the moment their brain seems to register that you were standing in front of them.

"When did you get here, baby?" They tilt their head, reminiscent of Kodiak when he was trying to figure out where his favorite toy was hidden. "I thought you were having a best friend night with Blaire."

Your lips purse, completely unimpressed. "I've been here for about an hour, M. But--" You wave your hand behind you. "I was quite surprised to find out that you weren't here when I arrived. Where did you go? I thought you were going to catch up on the books you've been meaning to finish?"

They don't answer right away, probably trying to formulate a proper response to your pointed words, but they continue their journey through their house to the large kitchen to place their various bags on the island.

"You texted me," they begin, a small shrug making an appearance. "I just got back from my morning walk with Thena and Kody when I saw it." Blue eyes raise to meet your gaze, a softness exuding from their very core. "Do you remember what you sent me?"

"That I was having a hectic day and that I wanted it to be over already."

M hums, a happy expression etched across their face. "Precisely. I knew that you'd only get more stressed as the day wore on. So I--" They turn to rifle through one of the bags, only turning back around to show you the medium-sized carton now clasped in one hand. "Went to get you your favorite homemade ice cream from that store you like."

Whatever you had expected them to say, whatever reason you had conjured up within your mind, such a sweet gesture had never crossed your mind; even though it was completely on brand for M to do such a thing for you.

"M," you murmur, still stunned. "That shop is over an hour away in the next city."

They tilt their head once more. "So?" Looking genuinely perplexed now too, they continue. "I also picked up some of your favorite movies and snacks too. I thought maybe you'd like to have a movie night tonight? Though I assumed it'd be later once you got done with Bl--"

You stopped their rambling with a swift, yet gentle, kiss to their lips. The feeling of warm hands gently cupping your cheeks, a faint smile appearing, and a happy hum gracing your ears as you pull away, caused your heart to skip a beat.

"You didn't have to do all of that for me."

"Why wouldn't I? You were unhappy and I knew how to make you feel better." They place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Why wouldn't I do everything in my power to make that happen? To make you smile?"

#absentia #michael steele #margot steele #fluff #dialogue prompt #snippet

[tanky-baby]

Redacted Characters, but its whether or not i think they'd help you hid a body cuz I’m bored again.

This is for fun, don’t take it seriously 👍 but, if anyone has another list idea, feel free to send it to me

Would help hide a body/ The "Real" Ones:

Darlin and Angel would help you hide a body, no questions asked

Quinn would help you, but would then use said imformation as blackmail.

Lasko would help, but purely out of fear.

William would ask what the person did. If it was worthy of death, he’d let you hid the body on one of his estates

Hush would help cuz he thinks this situation is hysterical.

Bright and Smartass would help you hid a body if you payed them. (Broke ass 💀)

Alexis would help if you pay her, but she would absolultely snitch if it benefits her.

Christian would help, but he posts about it on his instagram story and gets you two caught.

Marie would subtly hint about parts of Dahlia nobody ever goes anymore.

Wouldn't help hid a body/ The Pussys:

Asher would say sure thinking you were joking, but when you show him the dead person he panic-calls David.

Sam would redirect you to Tank.

Vega wouldn’t for shits and giggles.(he’s feeding off your anger rn)

Vincent wouldn’t help, but would promise to keep it a secret. He then accidentally snitches on you the next day.

Huxley is appalled that you suggested that he make a hole for you to throw the body in. Calls his man while keeping you in his line of sight.

Damien calls the police IMMEDIATELY.

Honey would call you a dumbass and say you should’ve planned ahead of time.

Doc and James would run tf away from you.

Caleum would start crying.(Why would you ask him???)

Sweetheart, Warden and David would say that theyll help you, but when you guys get to the dumping area, Department personel are waiting to arrest you.

Lovely and Guy would say that theyll help you, but when they leave to get the bodybag, they ghost you.

Milo thought the whole situation is some elaborate prank by Sweetheart.

Babe would make Asher pick them up and take them home without elaboration or acknowledging your request. (I think you broke them🤕)

Kody is the body❤️

#all my homies hate kody #if I left people out it’s because i never listened to them #that may change #someday #RedactedRankedTM #redacted headcanons #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted shaw pack #redacted solaire clan #redacted damn crew #redacted unempowered

[joanquill]

Stuffed toys

May I request 27 with the Holmes? Just a platonic and familial stuff about both brothers comfort/tried to claim 'the best brother' for y/n?? Please surprise me, you can do angst or fluff or maybe both! Good luck and thank you!!

Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes

Tag/s: Familial Relationship, Longer Than Expected (700+ words)

You squinted your eyes at your bedroom and rubbed them, hoping it would change.

Unfortunately, it didn't.

Inside your room was a giant teddy bear with a bow on his head, big enough to be a chair in the middle of the room.

"...What?" you questioned, your maids fidgeting as they kept their posts.

"Master Sherlock walked in this morning and placed his gift in your room," she explained, making you hum.

"And none of you stopped him...?" you asked, making them pause.

"He said you knew he was visiting..." they explained, making you sigh.

"...Did Mycroft also visit?"

"Yes..."

"Guh..." you choked, seeing the rows of toys from your old favorite franchise arranged on a shelf you've never seen before.

'I haven't had those since I was seven...' you thought, feeling embarrassment flare up your face as your maids and butlers stared at the gift.

"Camila..."

"Yes, Master?"

"Tell my brothers we're having a family meeting. It's urgent..." you muttered, walking back to your room.

"Is it crucial?" Kody asked, following you through the halls.

"Not really," you muttered, "Knowing them, they're probably having a contest on who's better,"

"What is this about?" Sherlock sighed, sitting on the couch with Mycroft on opposite sides as your maids prepared you some tea.

"I just have some questions," you clarified, taking a cup.

"Well then?"

"This better be important..." Mycroft muttered, looking at his pocketwatch, making your head throb in annoyance.

"You just finished your case," you glared at Sherlock, "And you're on vacation," you pointed to Mycroft, catching the two men off guard.

"So, don't act like you're busy," you sighed, leaning back on your seat as you rubbed your temples.

"So... Mind explaining yourselves?" you asked, showing the shelf and giant teddy bear.

"What? Can't your brothers spoil you a little?" Mycroft smiled, feigning innocence.

"Normal brothers, maybe," you grumbled, crossing your legs, "But you two always have something up your sleeves," you reasoned, staring at them.

"So, what is it? Trying to cover up a crime? Did somebody die?" you asked, making them look away.

"Master (Y/N), if I may..." Kody whispered, making you raise a brow.

"What is it, Kody?"

"We found out Master Mycroft and Sherlock have been asking for reports of your well-being from a maid," he started, making you widen your eyes.

"And I believe they found out about your... separation... with Sinclair Arkwright," your mouth gaped as you turned to your brothers.

"YOU WERE SPYING ON ME!?"

"God... This is the worst..." you grumbled on your knees, the living room now a mess from you throwing whatever was closest to your brothers.

Even the furniture was flipped over.

"Hey..." Sherlock called out, making you glare at him.

He sighed as he knelt, patting your head.

"Just so you know, Mycroft was the one who's spying on you,"

"Sherlock!"

"But!" he added, glaring at Mycroft before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"We found something about Arkwright... And it's not pretty," he sighed, making you look at him.

"So, the murder case you just solved..."

"Was Arkwright... Yes..."

"You were his next target," Mycroft added, sitting on the other side.

"And we'd be fools if we didn't interfere," he muttered, patting your head.

You sighed as you leaned back, your headache returning.

"And this was your way of comforting me?" you asked with a strained smile.

"It worked before,"

"Yeah, when we were kids!" you exasperated, remembering the mountain of toys your brother would give when they got in trouble with you.

"But..." you sighed, putting an arm around their shoulders.

"I guess this is your own way of comforting me," you softly smiled, remembering the times your brothers awkwardly attempted to soothe you whenever you cried.

"So, thanks..." you smiled, hugging them tightly.

"Did you have to phrase it that way?"

"What brother sneaks into their sibling's house to put a giant teddy bear in the middle of the room?" you retorted, making Sherlock silent as Mycroft stifled a laugh.

"It's the same when it's a full-stock shelf of toys," you added, making Sherlock smirk.

You breathed out a smile and gave them one last hug.

"It's a tie, by the way," you mumbled, making them furrow their brows.

"What's a tie?"

"Your contest on who's the best brother," you clarified, smirking at them.

'You'd think a contest I made when we were kids would have stopped years ago...'

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #valentines #ynm mycroft #mycroft holmes #ynm sherlock #sherlock holmes #jq valentines event

[shyanddreamy]

You can't save everyone

Happy Lowman x Reader | Part 5 | Finale

Outside Stockton, there were some bikes waiting. Chibs and Happy were by your side, and next to you were the Mayans Oakland Pres and VP. Marcus Alvarez was there too. Although he no more wore his kutt, he wanted to be there with the rest of you. Two years were a great amount of time to rebuild what had been destroyed, so Mayans and Sons were partners once again. The biggest difference was that this time, there were lot of new prospects to refill the charters.

When you saw Creeper get out of prison, you grinned. His smile grew wide too. He hugged Marcus first and his brothers second. And then, he looked at you. You jumped into his arms at the same time he embraced you tightly.

“I can’t believe you’re finally out”, you greeted him.

“Fuck, me neither.”

After the end of the war, Santo Padre’s charter was blamed for all the crimes Creeper had confessed, so his sentence was changed, and he got only two years. It was all bullshit, of course, but whatever deal Kody made with the person in charge of the operation against the MC, she made sure it would benefit Creeper. Six months later, his request to be transferred to Stockton was approved. There were more Mayans and Sons in that prison, so he was safer, and he was also nearer his future new charter. And nearer you, too.

Once he released himself from your hug, Creeper approached Chibs and Happy to greet them with a handshake and a pat on the back. During this time, they had been working together to reunite both MCs. And they had done a good job.

“C’mon, we have some ladies back home waiting to give you a warm welcome”, Chibs told him.

“Listen to him, carnal”, Marcus added. “SAMCRO has always had great women around them.”

“I’m sure we could find one for you too, old man”, Happy responded.

“Not if I want my wife to open the door for me when I get home. But as long as you have booze in there, I’m in for a welcome party.”

After the war, when SAMCRO voted on the direction they wanted to take, the decision was controversial. Over time, they realised that the porn industry moved a lot of money, but they kept doing smaller business outlaw, as well as threatening or blackmailing their competition. You can take the man out of the criminal life, but you can’t take the criminal life out of the man. Anyway, things were good now.

The fact that Creeper’s welcome party was held at Charming was something meaningful. SAMCRO wanted to demonstrate their goodwill by letting a bunch of Mayans enter their territory, celebrate the return of a brother, and together pay their respects to the fallen.

When you saw Neron coming back from the dorms as he was in pain, you couldn’t help but laugh. He walked towards you and took a sit next to you on the sofa.

“They're treating you more than well.”

“Fuck. Those hoes are going to kill me”, he said. “I really wanted to bang some chick, but now I won’t be able to have a hard-on for days.”

“What were you expecting? You are like a legend here”, you remained him. “The Mayan who convinced his brothers to sit down and talk with SOA. The one who got peace from prison.”

“Just because you kept me alive first.”

“Oh, c’mon, shut up”, you said, shaking your head while smiling. “We’ve talk about that too many times. Don’t start again.”

The first time you talked with Creeper after the war, he was completely broken. Knowing FBI had killed his whole charter was devastating for him. He thought he had lost everything, but he didn’t give up. And when you suggested that he should talk to his brothers to open the door to dialogue, you gave him a new purpose to live for. It was only a matter of time before he was able to heal his wounds. When Oakland’s charter offered him a place at their table, Neron was more convinced that the brotherhood for which he had given his life was not completely over.

“But it’s the truth, Y/N”, he insisted. “I owe you my life.”

“So, just keep living”, you told him. “Don’t let the past drag you down.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

“Good.”

You looked at him with a sweet smile, recognising in him the genuine smile you had loved since the first time you saw it. Despite everything, the deaths, the blood, and the betrayals, that smile was still there. He was there. And that filled you with joy. It was amusing to think that all this had started just because he was in the bathroom you desperately needed to use. Fate was peculiar.

“Have you heard anything more from Kody?”, you asked him since the memory of how you met reminded you of the time Kody called you asking for the bathroom chick.

“Fuck no”, he growled. “And I don’t wanna hear her name again. She’s dead to me.”

You didn’t know what had really happened between them or why she had so much influence in the FBI, and probably you would never know for sure, but you had some conjectures in mind. However, it no longer mattered.

Even if you had wanted to, you wouldn’t have been able to add anything before Tig shouted for you to approach the group who were about to do a round of shots.  

“It’s going to be a fucking long day”, Creeper muttered as he stood up. “Are you in? I’d like to see who’s the first to throw up over the table.”

“Hell yes.”

*

As hours went by, you felt your body getting more and more tired. You didn’t want to go home yet, so you opted to sit down on a stool next to the counter bar. When one of the prospects asked if you wanted something, you said a bottle of water.

“Welcome parties are always hard”, Marcus commented, sitting on the stool next to you with a glass full of some liquor. “I’m glad to finally meet Happy’s Old Lady.”

“It’s my pleasure, Padrino”, you answered. “I've heard great things about you.”

“Half will be lies”, he assured you, smiling slightly. “Good things I’ve done are only because I’m too old. Experience always makes you clever.”

“Those pricks could learn something from you then. I’m pretty sure that some of them just think with their dicks.”, you added. And your words made Marcus laughed. “But I like to see them like that. After all that happened, it’s good to see them having a good time together.”

“Yeah, it is”, he nodded. “When you don’t know war, peace is overrated. I hope they have learnt enough not to repeat the same mistakes”.

“Sounds good, but there’s always going to be mistakes. Doing bad things is their way of living. Is what they do.”

“Did you get to know Clay?”, Marcus asked you suddenly.

“Yeah, for a while. But mostly at the end”, you answered. “With half lung less he wasn’t so intimidating.”

“He did good things, but also bad ones. Now is remembered for the bad ones. Jax did bad things too, but he’s remembered just for the great ones. What I mean is that we all do both. Always. That’s why our successes must be bigger than our mistakes”, he explained to you before suddenly changing the subject. “Happy and you want kids?”

“Nope. We’re good. Kids ain’t our thing.”

“I have a two-years-old boy waiting for me at home. And two teenagers too. Having your own family helps you to think more with the heart and less with the head.”, he told you. “You did it too. Thinking with your heart. You convincing SAMCRO to protect Creeper so he could find out who the rat was helped us a lot after the war. SAMCRO upholding the code between MCs and the brotherhood really meant something to the rest of the Mayans who were tired of so much betrayal and lies.”

“Some of these men wouldn’t say that it was a good thing I thought with the heart. They’d say I did what I did because I’m a woman. That we’re always the weakest and fucking sensitive.”

“So, fuck them”, Marcus answered. “Thinking only with the head is what has caused so much bloodshed.”

“Now I understand why they call you Padrino”, you said with a grin on your face. “And now I really believe all the great things I heard about you.”

Although you would have loved to carry on the conversation for the rest of the night, noticing your phone vibrating in your jeans managed to throw you off. When you took it out of your pocket, you saw a missing call.

“I’m sorry. I have to take it.”

“It’s okay, querida”, he answered, putting his hand on your shoulder in an affectionate manner. “Just take care of your man. And help him to think with his heart too. Happy’s going to need it.”

“I’ll do try.”

With the phone in your hand, you left the clubhouse and walked away from drunks outside. Only when you were far enough, you called her back. She didn’t even bother to say hello.

“Everything’s good? Is Neron out?”, she asked you. It was easy to notice the worry in her voice.

“Yeah. Everything’s perfect”, you confirmed her. “He’s inside the club with his brothers celebrating his return.”

“Great. Great”, he mumbled. And despite the silence, you knew what she was going to say now. Since she stopped visiting him after what happened in Santo Padre, every time you spoke it was the same two questions. “Did he ask for me? Did he say anything about me?”

“Neron has his head in too many things right now.”

It was always the same answer from you too. But this time, it was different. Now he was out, he was a free man without visiting hours or restrictions. And she knew it.

“I was thinking I could go there. He might want to see me and talk. I have so many things I want to tell him if he gives me the opportunity. If you talk to him first, he might…”

“I’m sorry, Kody”, you interrupted her. “I’m really sorry, but it seems that Neron hasn’t forgiven you yet for whatever happened between you two.”

You really felt bad for her, but it would have been even worse confessing that Creeper had told you she was dead to him. Perhaps you should have warned her earlier so that she would not get her hopes up, but you also thought that Creeper might change his mind once he was released from prison.

“Perhaps, if you let some time pass, he…”

“No. It’s fine. I should have known better”, she raised her voice, but this time it seemed angrier. “I’ve already lost more than two years of my life with him. It’s fucking unhealthy and I need to stop. It’s better this way.”

“I’m really sorry, Kody”, you told her again because it was the only thing you could say right now.

“I don’t think we should talk anymore either”, she added. And after talking to her by phone at least once a month for two years, it will be weird at first, but it was the right choice.

“You could save my number”, you suggested. “In case one day you have some information that could be useful to us. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in Santo Padre.”

You had never talk about your private lives. Kody knew you were an outlaw, and you knew she was close to the FBI. Your only topic of conversation had been Neron, but it would be good to have an acquaintance who could warn you in case police became interested in the MCs again.

“It won’t happen again as longer as you don’t leave dead bodies on the streets”, she answered back. “But I’ll do. I’ll save it.”

Kody hung up seconds later and you put your phone back in your pocket with mixed feelings. She seemed to really care about Creeper, so it was a fucked up that he hated her so much. But at the same time, if he felt that way, it was because she had done something really bad to him, so it was better for him to be far away from Kody.

“Everything’s all right over there, doll?”, Tig brought you out of your thoughts.

“Perfect”, you assured him with a smile on your face. “Are you having fun, baby?”

“Fuck yes. I love welcome parties”, he said as he passed an arm around your shoulders. “Weren’t you trying to go home already, were you?”

“Of course not”, you answered. “Indeed, I’d want another beer.”

“You have read my mind, love.”

*

By the end of the night, everyone was either passed out or lying on a sofa or a chair. Some were even on the floor. Nothing you hadn’t seen before actually. You were with Happy on a single sofa, sitting on his lap while you kissed. The kisses could be sweet, but the way Happy stroked your thigh caused a warn feeling inside you.

“The night was amazing”, you told him, aware that no one else would be able to hear you right now. “But you know what a perfect ending would be? You fucking me until we pass out too”.

“Right here?”

“You wish”, you answered. As he smirked, you bit your lower lip.

“Maybe there’s an empty dorm. If not, I’ll kick out whoever is there.”

“Sounds good”, you nodded, but a gasp caught your attention. Creeper had two croweaters on either side kissing his neck and caressing his body. The fact that he was the only one who drank just water could be the reason why he was one of the few who were still awake. “Seems he’s having fun till the end.”

“He’s definitely doing so.”

“Would you want to be him?”, you asked him, looking at Happy again. “Having all the croweaters you want doing whatever you ask, just to make you feel good.”

You felt the hand on your thigh grip you more tightly as the other moved up to the back of your neck.

“I wouldn’t change you for anything”, he promised you with his deep, dark gaze on yours. “You are the only one I want. The only one I’ll ever want.”

Your smile widened at his words even though you already knew that would be his answer. He kissed you more passionately than before, and you lost yourself on the kiss until his fingers grabbed the necklace hidden under your shirt.

“When are we gonna tell them?”, he asked you.

“Don’t know. I’m waiting for the right moment.”

You took your fingers to his necklace too. You had both been hiding the fine silver chain with a ring on it under your shirts for weeks. You didn’t expect Happy to be into the whole wedding thing. You didn’t expect it from you either. But when one night Happy put a ring on your finger while you were simply on the sofa watching tv, you almost started crying. Apparently, he had been carrying the ring in his pocket for months, trying to figure out the best way to give it to you. And until this day, you had been waiting for the right time to announce it to the boys.

“Don’t wanna wait more”, he said. And before you could even process his words, Happy kept talking. “Hey! We’re getting married.”

Between the gazes that were suddenly on you, you focused on Creeper and Chibs.

“Just you, fucking bastards, could choose a moment like this to tell us something like that”, Chibs complained. He was sitting on a stool, leaning on the counter bar with both arms, his sunglasses on, and a cigarette between his fingers. “I’d hug you, but I’d better do it some other time when I don’t smell like a fucking minibar.”

“We all know it’s because you can’t even stand up now, old man”, you said, grinning.

“Fuck you, sweetheart.”

“I’d hug you too, but I smell like something you really don’t want to smell”, Creeper added. “But congratulations, guys. I knew this was gonna happen sooner or later. I’m so happy for you both.”

“Hey!”, Happy raised his voice again, but this time while kicking Tig’s back, who was lying on the floor next to your feet with a women slept over him. “We’re getting married, dickhead.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, brother”, Tig mumbled. He needed some seconds to understand what Happy had told him. And when he did, his eyes opened widely. “Wait, what?”

Tig careless pushed the women who was with him and sat down on the floor before resting his head on your legs.

“Congratulations, man. I guess I no longer have any chance of banging you, Y/N.”

“You’ve never had a chance, Tig”, you answered.

“Don’t know. When you first came to Charming, I thought you might be looking for a daddy, but you preferred that weirdo”, he continued, deadly serious. “But I’m so happy for you both. You’re both as insane as each other. And I fucking love you, guys.”

“And we love you too, Tiggy”, you said while caressing his tousled black curls, which was enough to make him close his eyes again.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Creeper asked, moving his eyes between Chibs and Happy and you, not understanding why none of you were startled by what Tig had said.

“I’d like to say that is cause he’s drunk, but it’s not”, you told him.

“He’s just a sick bastard”, Happy added.

“The sickest bastard I've ever known”, Chibs pointed out.

The death, the dangers, the risks... nothing mattered at that moment. It was a fucked-up life and a fucked-up family, but it was the life and the family you had chosen. And you didn’t regret a single thing. Even if you have your whole life ahead of you or only a few years left to live. Even if you could go back in time to the moment when a prospect offered you to go to a party at Sons of Anarchy Tacoma’s clubhouse, you would do it all over again until you get back to this very moment.

“What the fuck is doing fucking Marcus Alvarez in my room?”

It was quite amusing the way Happy looked at you when he opened the door of his club’s dormitory to find El Padrino on his bed.

“Shit. I forgot. He wanted to leave early to Santo Padre to see his family, so I told him he could sleep in your dorm to not be disturbed.”

“Well, it’s your loss”, he answered. “Now I’m not gonna fuck you.”

“You are not?” you asked him with a raised eyebrow. “Then I’ll ask Tig. He seemed eager to do so.”

“Fuck you.”

Happy took you in his arms and carried you to the bathroom. He kicked out a Mayan who was sleeping over the toilet after throwing up and slammed the door. Suddenly, he put you against the sink, facing the mirror, and dropped your shorts.

“It’s so easy to get under your skin, babe”, you told him, biting your lower lip. He looked at you deadly serious while unbuckling his belt. “And it may have been a set up. Perhaps I wanted you to fuck me in the bath from the beginning. So, I win again.”

Happy pulled your hair apart to be able to kiss and bite your neck. His hands clutched tightly to your hips, and as his trousers were down his knees, you could feel his hard-on against you.

“You’re so fucking mean”, Happy muttered against your skin before pushing your back a little further down, so he could have better access. “And I fucking love you for that.”

“I love you too. So fucking much.”

“Now, try not to shout too much. Or do it if you want”, he said. “I don’t give a shit.”

THE END

←Part 4

#happy lowman #happy soa #mayans mc #neron creeper vargas #soa #sons of anarchy #chibs telford #creeper mayans #creeper vargas #chibs sons of anarchy #tig soa #tig trager

[dawn-moths]

"Birthday Wishes"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 3,700+

(@fanfictionsworld requested: spending your birthday with Undertaker from my Cause to Start a Vendetta AU.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! fluff with some smut at the end, oral sex (reader receiving), use of the word “Daddy”, reader is called “princess, baby, sweetheart”.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You’d been counting down the days for weeks now, your birthday circled on the calendar with a big pink glitter gel pen heart several times over, every day crossed off that crawled closer to the day— your day— making you more and more excited.

Because, as you’d quickly grown accustomed to being spoiled by Undertaker— special occasion or otherwise— your birthday was no exception to being showered with all the love and luxury he had at his disposal.

“Morning, princess…” he cooed, gently smoothing down some of your sleep-tousled hair with a big, cool palm, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you blinked open beary eyes, wrapped in his arms and the many layers of blankets that twisted and tangled about your bodies sprawled across the bed.

“Morning, Daddy…” you replied, voice soft and delicate as the lingering dredges of slumber clung to your tone, an angelic little grin curving up on your sweet lips as you nuzzled closer into Undertaker’s chest, seeking out his elusive warmth.

For a moment, nearly forgetting what today was as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your figure filling with the heavy weight of sleep once more, your eyelids fluttered closed and your breathing began to turn slow and shallow. Undertaker rubbed a hand up and down your back, stirring you back to the waking world and smiling to himself as you let out a big yawn, nose scrunching adorably with the expression.

“If you want to go back to sleep,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your nose and causing a fragile giggle to bubble up in your chest, “I won’t stop you. But that would certainly be a shame when we have so many fun things on our to-do list today.”

That was enough to entice you, your mind suddenly much more alert than before, and you snaked your arms up to gently rest over his shoulders. “Just a few more minutes…” you said, pressing yourself even closer to him, wishing you could bask in the safety of his touch forever. “Then I promise I’ll get up.”

A smooth, sonorous chuckle vibrated through his bones, the sound warming you from the inside out like hot milk and honey. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, allowing himself to melt back to a more relaxed state as well. “Just a few more minutes…”

As the sun crept further through the cracks of the curtains, bright beams painting the ornate master bedroom with thin strokes of gold, stirring up the wispy clouds of dust motes swirling through the air, Undertaker coaxed you into finally rising, draping one of his big, fluffy black robes over your shoulders when you became burdened with a chill, the mansion’s usual temperature kept low upon his preference.

Once your feet were dressed in your favorite pair of fluffy socks and even fluffier slippers, you took Undertaker’s hand and let him guide you down the wide halls to the curving staircase, heading towards the kitchen where you could already smell your special birthday breakfast.

The long dining table was decorated to the nines with all kinds of balloon bouquets and bundles of black and white roses overflowing from crystal vases. Spelled out in gold glitter confetti at one end of the display was HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS punctuated by a big heart. At the other was a full selection of all your breakfast favorites— souffle pancakes piled high with bananas and melty chocolate chips, strawberry french toasts drizzled with sticky maple syrup and sprinkled with a frosty snowfall of powdered sugar, fluffy scrambled eggs and yogurt parfaits and fruit arranged by color.

You sucked in a gasp of delight, hands clasped before your chest as you eagerly surveyed the scene, looking up at your Daddy like he’d outdone himself.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said, extending a hand towards the chair at the head of the table— his usual chair, the master’s chair, the dining room’s throne— and pulling it out for you to sit in, taking the seat adjacent to it to join you in the morning’s sugary culinary experience.

Over the meal— you choosing a bit of everything to pile onto your plate in an orderly array, because why should you have to choose just one when today you could have whatever your little heart desired— you and Undertaker began to discuss the day’s itinerary.

There was a packed schedule planned indeed— a shopping outing at all your most beloved designer stores, afternoon tea at the Ritz, exploring some of the artsy nooks and crannies of the city and dropping into your favorite bookstore all before hopping on the Aurora Society’s private jet and taking the hour and a half flight to your favorite five star restaurant in Paris, sure to end the evening by enjoying your usual penthouse suit of the expensive hotel that gave the best view among any of the establishments around.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Undertaker slyly prompted just as you were about to head upstairs to get changed and ready for the events ahead, thoughts already spinning trying to decide what you wanted to wear. You stopped and considered him with an adorably cute expression for a moment until he pulled a big gift bag from under the table where he’d hidden it from you, the glossy black packaging stuffed with glittering silver tissue paper and two perfect satin ribbons serving as the handles. “You know,” he shrugged as he slid it towards you on the table, drinking in your awe, never growing tired of how easily you seemed to be innocently surprised sometimes, “just in case you felt like going out in something new.”

Carefully, as if the wrapping itself was just as valuable as the gift, you plucked the sparkling tissue paper away to uncover the pristinely wrapped box beneath, a marbling of glossy and matte black swirling over the decorative paper like ink dropped into water. The moment the first half of your favorite clothing brand’s name was visible to you, you shot him a glance, as if to say, “you shouldn’t have” despite believing down to your very core that you deserved every expensive, extravagant thing that Undertaker placed in your cute little lap.

Once you lifted the garment from where it had been perfectly folded within its box, holding it up to your body as if to sample how it would look before trying it on, you heard Undertaker sigh, a dreamy, lilting hum tailing off the end of it. “Exquisite…” he remarked, and you now held the dress out from your body, studying the intricate craftsmanship that had been hand stitched into the garment as you smiled to yourself, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really is.”

But then Undertaker was by your side, having moved soundlessly, his even stride gliding across the short distance to meet you. “I wasn’t talking about the dress,” he murmured, big hands settling on your hips. “Now, why don’t you head upstairs and start getting ready.”

You turned your face up to his, met his lips when he was close enough for a kiss, and muttered out a sweet little, “Thank you, Daddy,” before following his instruction and heading for the staircase.

He watched you go, saw the skip in your step as you ventured off, only returning to clearing the table once you disappeared down the long second story hallway and out of his view. He was going to look forward to taking that dress off of you later, unwrapping you like his own special gift by the time night draped itself over the sky.

***

The afternoon had been like a dream, you and your lover floating from one location to the next to try on extravagant clothing and sample imported teas, the two of you practically waltzing through the downtown streets where you longed to see what new installments the local London artists put up around the city before you’d lost track of time perusing your favorite bookstore, a good two hours going by without you even noticing as you strategically searched for the next story to get yourself hooked on.

But as the sky began to fade from blue to gold, it signaled that dinner was soon approaching, which meant you two had a plane to catch if you wanted to arrive to your reservation on time.

The hostess greeted you two with a friendly smile, addressing you both by name, the entire restaurant staff made familiar with London’s most notorious boss and the beautiful girl who was always on his arm, Undertaker making short, lighthearted conversation with the manager in French while they crossed paths on the walk to your usual table, the man chuckling at something your Daddy had said, forever able to charm anyone if he set his mind to it, it seemed.

As you both enjoyed the delicacies of the six course meal, you continued to talk and laugh, never running out of topics to converse about, though tonight you were most excited to tell him all about the book you’d recently finished and your expectations for the new one you’d chosen on your earlier excursion, having heard nothing but praise for the acclaimed tale.

Once the horizon had lost its lilac blush and sunk deep into the velvet navy of nightfall though, you knew you were just about to enter into yet another phase of your luxurious birthday festivities.

***

You could smell the roses from down the hall before the doors to your hotel suite in Paris even opened. The entirety of the three connected rooms were decked from floor to ceiling in at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of florals, vibrant reds and sultry blacks, flawless creams and even a dash of lovely soft pinks.

You could’ve cried at how gorgeous it all was, blinking the mist from your eyes as you spun in slow circles about the place, taking it all in. Undertaker’s hands found your shoulders to steady you, stopping your awestruck turns to face the beautiful birthday cake on the hotel room’s center table, the special dessert shaped like a heart and iced in a rainbow of your favorite colors, several candles placed strategically on the top and already lit, small flames glowing and beckoning you over to make a wish.

But what could you possibly wish for when you already had everything you’d ever want or need— a gorgeous man who loved you, showering you in every stunning thing life had to offer, as simple as the snap of his fingers or a wave of his hand— besides to continue living this blessed life that had found its way to you, through trial and tribulation?

Taking a few steps forward towards the cake, you choked out through a shaky breath, “Oh my god…” unable to hold back your tears any longer, a few sparkling drops running down your cheeks, glittering like gold as they caught the amber of the flickering firelight. You looked back at Undertaker, who was not far behind you, and wondered if you’d ever be able to convey how much this all meant to you. It almost seemed unfair. He’d always be able to do more for you than you would for him, though he never seemed to mind.

For him, just having you— his sweet, precious baby girl to dote on and adore as much as he pleased— was far more than enough. All you had to do was exist. All you had to do was be his.

“Well, go on,” he lightly urged, a calm smile playing at the corner of his lips as he gestured towards the center table. “The candles won’t blow themselves out, now will they?”

You smiled, big and bright, and let out a sound that could only be described as pure joy. Undertaker was addicted to that sound, the way it rang out like the delicate jingle of bells, the way it warmed him like the sun’s rays after so much rain. It made everything he’d ever done, good, bad, or somewhere in between, all worth it. Just to see you smile at him like that, just to hear you laugh. Just to know it was him who’d been the orchestrator of such emotions.

And as you let out a strong gust of a breath, turning each melting birthday candle from flame to smoke, you realized you did have one wish you wanted to make afterall.

Let things be like this forever, you thought to yourself, like a silent prayer. Let us stay as in love for the rest of our lives as we are right now, in this moment.

Undertaker cut the cake, a piece for you and a piece for him, and then the two of you sat by the counter outlooking the spotless floor to ceiling windows that gave way to the sprawling view of the City of Light, the night sky clear and sparkling with little bursts of silver stars overhead.

You talked and joked and laughed while you both enjoyed your dessert, your chair pressed right next to his, close enough that you could lean your head over to rest against the side of his shoulder while his arm slung across your back, hugging you closer to him, his most cherished treasure.

“You know…” you began, gazing dreamily out the window at the romantic scene the city offered. Then, casting him a glance from where you were nestled into his side, you said, “I think this might really be the best birthday ever.”

Something in his eyes softened a shade then, and in response Undertaker lightly took your chin between his lithe fingers, tilting your mouth just ever so slightly upwards so he could lean down to meet it. You hadn’t expected the kiss, languid and savoring at first as you parted your lips to let him in, both of you tasting like your favorite flavor of cake, soon turning more hungry, having you straddling his lap and blinded by the blissful haze that was slowly filling you from the inside out.

When he finally broke away, leaned back just far enough to look you in the eyes, gently wiping the cool pad of his thumb across the plush of your bottom lip, glossy from your mingled saliva, a weak attempt to clean you up a bit, he said, “I guess that means I’ll have to go above and beyond next year,” and you laughed and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you felt yourself relax over him.

“No, but really…” you murmured. “Thank you, Daddy. For everything. Always.”

All you got as a warning for what happened next was a low, lilting chuckle humming in his chest before he was hoisting you up, big hands splayed against the backs of your thighs as he began to carry you elsewhere in the suite.

“Where are we going?” you playfully asked, though you already had a pretty good idea.

“There’s still a few hours until midnight,” he remarked, a new kind of vigor in his voice and stride. He set you down on the edge of the king-sized bed, beginning to shrug off his jacket and tug his belt buckle free of its loops as he added, “Which means your birthday’s not over yet, princess.”

The smirk that spread across his face then made that fluttering creature resting in your lower belly roll over inside of you, beginning to wake, soon asking to be satisfied like a dog scratching at the door begging for treats, relentless until it was given its desired reward. It wasn’t long before Undertaker was hooking his grip under your thighs again, pulling you further down the bed where he then knelt at the foot of it.

You gave him an uncertain and slightly suspicious look as he flicked his emerald gaze up to meet yours. Usually, he liked to undress you, strip you down piece by piece before ridding himself of his own clothing, admiring every inch of your bare body like it was the most masterful work of art. Then he’d pin you down, his prized butterfly, and get to work at soaking both your bodies with pleasure before wringing them dry, squeezing you for every last lustful drop he could.

But tonight— on your night— he figured he’d do things a little differently. Give you one last birthday surprise before the clock struck twelve.

“Just relax, sweetheart…” he cooed, carefully bunching your new dress up around your waist, exposing the expensive lace clinging to the most delicate parts of you and drinking in the sight like it rivaled even that of the one just beyond the windows. “Let Daddy make you feel good…”

Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the soft raise of your lower belly, and you felt your tight little hole futter and your sensitive bud pulse as he slowly removed your panties, your already damp core causing them to cling to you a moment before the cool air sighed against your damp slit.

Undertaker ran a long finger through your dewy folds, making your next breath catch as he slipped it inside of you to gather more of your slick before rubbing it against your puffy clit, already swollen with arousal, pulling one of those adorable whines from your throat as you lay one arm over your eyes, the other sprawled out across the bed, little fingers twisting into the sheets, trying to grab hold of anything while you still had the chance.

“That’s it, baby…” he praised, helping to spread you wider for him, a leg thrown over one of his broad shoulders as he continued to tease you. His next words sent a puff of his warm breath against your cunt, and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, exhaling a shuddering sigh. He whispered, “I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” and when he licked a flat-tongued stripe up your pussy, you let out a soft, broken whine, back already beginning to arch a little at the sinfully sweet feel of him.

Undertaker was skilled at a lot of things— running a business, making money, getting away with murder— but the thing you thought he was best at, above all else, was pleasuring you.

It was effortless, the way he knew exactly what to do that made you body bend to his command, melting your mind until all you knew was the press of his hips or the wet warmth of his mouth, the indents of his teeth, his fingerprints, all of it branded into you so no matter where you looked on your own body there would be a reminder of him, like a promise, a gift.

You were clenching the silky sheets in your trembling fist as he speared his tongue into you, his sharp nose nudging against your clit every time and forcing moan after delicious, high-pitched moan out of you like that was the only sound you’d ever known how to make. If he thought your laugh was syrupy sweet, then your moans were something else entirely, something far more addicting or satisfying than sticky, sickly sweet sugar. More like a drug to him, making him addicted in a way that, once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop. Not until you had nothing left to give, his pursuit at seeing just how far or how long he could make you go merciless time and time again.

“P-please—” you sobbed, the new veil of tears that had welled in your eyes causing your lashes to clump and spike together with every fluttering roll of your eyes back into your head. His pace was voracious, wanting to devour you down to your very core. You could barely get half a broken plea out before it was interrupted by a surrendering mewl or a soundless gasp, mouth hung open in ecstasy before he prepared to shatter you. “Please— I’m gonna—”

But before you could even speak the last word of your sentence, let alone remember it, Undertaker had you coming undone, unraveling you like a frayed thread on a silk scarf, pulling you apart until there was nothing left but a tangle of string he could then rearrange into any shape he pleased.

Your chest rose and fell with short, shallow, panting breaths, rigid form relaxing back into the mattress, body gone all pliable and boneless once the remaining tension melted away. Meanwhile, Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the sensitive insides of your stained thighs, palms gently petting you as you drifted down from the high and back into the garden of Eden he’d planted, nurtured, and grown just for you.

Normally, he’d barely give you enough time to recover before commencing round two, but, as he seemed to be a little more patient with you on this most special of days, he allowed your heart to slow to a steady rhythm and your breathing to smooth out into even inhales and exhales before shifting over you, darting out his tongue to lick at his own lips to catch one last obscene taste of you before wiping away your glistening arousal from the bottom half of his pale face with the back of his hand.

As he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes, the vibrant green of them almost glowing through the dim dark of the bedroom, he said, as if only to himself, “Just look at you… So gorgeous… My beautiful girl…” as he helped free you the rest of the way from your pretty birthday dress, mindfully folding it and placing it on the nearest bedside drawer so it didn’t get ruined.

Because he did intend to ruin you.

He intended to ruin you in all the right ways.

As he shed his own clothing like a black-skinned snake, all those silvery scars wrapped around alabaster flesh now on full display, you reached out for him, wanting, craving, needing to feel the press of his body back on yours before the ebbing pleasure made you drift off to dreamland. Though, with Undertaker, reality could often feel like a dream, so perfect your conscious mind almost struggled to comprehend it was real at times.

But, as he began to lean back over you, your fingers interlocked as he pressed your hands down into the comforter on either side of your head, both your legs thrown over his shoulders to have you splayed wide and vulnerable for him, just the way he liked you, one thing was for certain. Undertaker had been ahead of himself when he’d said he’d have to find a way to outdo your birthday next year. After tonight, you had no idea how things could get any better than this.

***

(Hello and thank you so much to @fanfictionsworld for your request! I hope I did it justice and thank you for being so patient with me while you waited for it. I know you’ve been following me for quite some time and I always recognize you when I see you pop up in my notifs, so it was truly a pleasure getting to write for you <3

Also want to give a big thank you to everyone else for reading as well! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have a wonderful day!)

#kodis requests #undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker black butler #black butler undertaker #undertaker x reader #black butler #black butler fanfiction #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x y/n #black butler smut #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n

[mayalaen]

my server vs netflix

Long post for a few mutuals who asked about this 🏴‍☠️

Netflix (according to the geeks on server forums -- so this could be off a bit) has individual servers that hold about 100TB of data each, and Netflix claims they have around 18,000 servers worldwide.

Netflix has about 3000 movies and 1800 TV shows available in the United States at any given time. It varies in other countries, but is similar.

This is my server below (pen for size comparison and purple sticky note covering the super bright blue light that bores into my brain)

It's got 5 drive bays, and right now I have 60TB of storage space in it (meaning it's just a little smaller than one of Netflix's servers), and only 37TB of which is currently used. I can easily expand with add-on bays once I fill up the 60TB.

I currently have 4470 movies and 862 TV series, all with closed captioning that I've curated and about 100 of the TV shows have bonus scenes and specials included.

My server cost me about $2700: $1200 for the 5-bay box and the rest was spent on hard drives over the course of 2 years -- 5 inside the server and 6 backup drives. I bought good drives when they were on sale.

I spent another $300 on a range extender for my house so mom and dad could watch in their bedrooms without interruption.

My home internet costs $50 a month and I'm able to serve friends and family in the US, Canada, Europe, and Australia. It's not always accessible (sorry Australia and your shitty internet), but it's up most of the time.

I never take movies/TV shows off of my server, and all the TV shows have their original DVD soundtracks, so nobody has to worry I'm going to remove their faves or ruin soundtracks.

I take requests from anyone, adding it when I find it with no judgement on content.

I don't charge anyone for using my server, and yet I'm paying less than I used to for internet and streaming services.

My payments for internet and streaming for my business and two family houses (Charlie's house and my house) used to be $900 A MONTH ($450 of it was the business internet because ISPs gouge businesses even though the internet usage at the shop is less than home).

Just before I quit Cox Internet, they were about to raise the cost and my new total would've been $1000 per month.

My monthly payments are now $220 for internet service and streaming services. So within just a few months, the server paid for itself.

I still have YouTube TV, Netflix x2 (one for each house), Hulu, and Discovery+.

I'm not saying the average person can set this up, but I want to make it clear that streaming services aren't the mysterious, unknowable magic that people think they are.

They're just servers (hard drives) with data on them and a good internet connection.

Anyone can set up a home server. You don't need a $1200 box like mine. Even an old computer/laptop or single hard drive will work.

A brand new 2TB good-quality hard drive that could hold about 1000 movies or 60-80 TV series would only cost $60 plus another $29 for a basic enclosure/case. (I bought mine from NewEgg for backups)

I use Plex as my media server program. It has a free version and a paid version. I bought the lifetime pass on sale for $90. It goes on sale 2-3 times a year. There are other programs out there too, including Kodi, which has a Netflix skin so it looks like you're using Netflix.

Plex and other programs like it already have a huge library of metadata, so I didn't have to create my own cover art or fill in any other information other than title & year for movies or title + season + episode number for TV shows.

Careful naming of files and sorting in properly-named folders is all you need to have this:

It took me about 3 months to download and organize most of the movies and TV shows in between working and taking care of my home/family. Now I update the server once a week and it takes about 2 hours a week to download/update new TV shows and movies.

I wasn't able to torrent when I had Cox Internet, but the new $50/month ISP doesn't give a shit. Even so, I use a VPN, which is $9 a month just in case they ever decide to get touchy about torrenting.

The server does regular maintenance on itself, and I have backups of everything.

I realize not everyone has the tech skills to set something like this up, but even if one tech person in the family or circle of friends has the ability, they could serve around 60 people.

The most I've had streaming at one time was 10 separate people watching different things, and my server handled it with no problem.

Others on the server forum claim they've maxed out around 25 people simultaneously watching, but 60 people is the number suggested because not everybody will watch at the same time.

Streaming, as it currently works, does NOT support anyone related to the creation of TV shows and movies.

Hopefully this will change, but even if it does, that doesn't change the fact that I can easily support creators myself by buying their DVDs, merch, going to cons, and donating to them or their projects directly.

Right now, pirating movies and TV shows doesn't hurt creators because streaming services and big studios are the main villains, and if all you did was donate $5 to your favorite TV show/movie, you'd be giving them more than if you streamed their content as many times as you wanted each month on a big streaming service.

I have movies and TV shows on my server that aren't even available from content creators anymore due to greedy CEOs and execs who dump their content for tax breaks.

If more people switched to using their own servers, MAYBE it would scare the greedy assholes into paying content creators what they deserve, but in the meantime it's a great way to enjoy content that was created to be shared and to support the creators.

EDIT: I need to add that streaming a TV show/movie as much as possible in the first few weeks of the release date DOES help the show get renewed and the movie execs are more likely to buy future movies, so please stream as much as possible then to help content creators. After that time is up and the streaming service moves on, then it's totally fine to pirate.

#servers #real life #technology #streaming #about me #long post

[specialagentlokitty]

Saul Silva/Farah x Teen!reader - never lost hope

Hello! I have a request for Silva/Dowling xTeen Reader story. They had a child once and it disappeared (like Bloom was taken in the first world) and now they found R and bring back to Alfea, telling R the truth. I dont know if you want to write it. - Anon💜

They never lost hope, even after 17 years of having nothing, Saul and Farah never lost hope when it came to trying to find their child.

Sometimes it felt hopeless, and sometimes they were sure they were close, but they still held out hope that somewhere in the otherworld or the first world you were out there and you were safe.

After confirming you were in fact not in the otherworld, they turned their attention to the first world, reaching out to anyone from the other world who lived there, any specialists or fairies that were there to help them.

All they had was a digitally created imagine of what you would roughly look like now, and that was it.

Until a few months ago when someone had sent them a picture.

It took a few days to compare and confirm, but they were sure it was you, and they reached out to the local police for help.

It was a slow process, but it was a huge lead, one they hadn’t had for years since you were a baby. 

But here you were, in a small town in Texas, growing up.

After emailing back and forth with your foster parents, they were finally invited to the home with police to monitor what was happening.

They weren’t sure if you knew or not, and as Farah and Saul were being escorted to your house in an unmarked car, the reality of the situation was starting to become clear.

“I’m sure it’s them.” Saul whispered.

“I know it is. It’s just if they’re willing to accept what’s really going on..” Farah whispered back.

Saul nodded his head because he knew she was right. If you refused to accept what was going on it would make everything a whole lot harder.

They pulled up into the driveway of a nice house where two men were waiting outside.

“James and Cody (L/N), (Y/N)s foster fathers.” The officer said.

The two nodded and climbed out of the car and walked over. The blonde male held out his hand.

“Saul and Farah I assume? I’m James.”

The black haired man held his hand out next.

“And I’m Cody, (Y/N) isn’t home right now so we can talk freely for a few hours.”

“Thank you so much for agreeing to this.” Farah sighed.

They were led inside and everyone sat down at the table and it was quiet for a moment.

“Oh we thought you might want to have this.” James said.

He got up and grabbed a binder and walked back over and handed it to them, showing them all the photos of you growing up in different places.

“(Y/N) was bounced about the system a little bit until they were 10, they’ve been with us since. We decided a few years later that we were going to wait until they were an adult to decide if they wanted to be adopted or try find well.. you two.”

They carried on talking and discussing your life, things that Saul and Farah had missed but were glad you could experience.

You saw the strange car in the driveway but you didn’t pay much attention to it as you barrelled through the front door, the Doberman behind you barking as he ran through too.

“Bodi dinner!” You yelled.

The dog barked and jumped up and down at the kitchen doorway.

You jogged through and grabbed his bowl to give him his dinner, and you held it up.

Bodi sat down and wagged his tail happily, waiting for you to place it down and walk away before he dived at it.

“(Y/N) can you come here please?” Kody called.

You mumbled out a reply around the apple you were eating and poked your head through the doorway, waving your hair.

Saul and Farah stared at you.

You were so grown up, just like the picture they had of you.

You walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

“And what have you been doing?” James chuckled.

He gestured for you to come over and he pulled a chair in front of him for you to sit down while you ate your apple and he picked things from your hair and shirt.

“Mr Riddon, needed help on the ranch, so I went to help, and I was climbing the haystack.” You beamed happily.

You looked at the officer standing in the back of the room.

“Hi officer Marks.”

“Hello (Y/N), been keeping out of trouble?” He smiled.

“I wanna say yes. But you’re here so yes?”

He laughed a little, shaking his head.

“Am not here for you kiddo don’t worry. Just here to talk to Kody and James.”

You turned to the new people in the room, and you smiled softly at them.

They couldn’t help but smile back at you.

“Hi I’m (Y/N).”

“Saul silva.”

“Farah Dowling.”

You nodded your head and stood up.

“It’s nice to meet ya!”

You headed back to the kitchen to bin your apple and wash your hands before making your way back over and you moved the chair to sit next to your foster dad.

Bodi came padding over, and he sat next to you, resting his head on your leg as he looked up at you.

“Who’s that?” Saul asked softly.

“This is Bodi. He’s two. I found him under the porch a year ago.”

You looked at your foster parents.

“What’s going on?”

They shared a look and sighed softly, reaching out to take your hands in theirs.

“(Y/N), these.. these are your biological parents. You were taken from the hospital a few days after you were born.”

You furrowed your brows a little bit as you looked at them.

“We understand you’re confused, but we have everything from police reports, posters, some photos. If you want to look through them before we carry on talking.” Farah asked.

You nodded and she handed them over and you sat on the floor to look over them all.

Bodi laid next to you, resting his head on your legs as you ran your fingers through his fur while you read over everything.

No one said anything, and you set the final paper down after an hour and looked up.

“So.. I was just.. taken..?” You asked quietly.

Saul got up and walked over, crouching down in front of you, but shuffled back when your dog got up and growled at him.

Placing a hand in Bodi’s back to make him stop, you looked at the man.

“We had gone home to get some rest, and the hospital never told us until we got there the next day. We’ve spent a little over 17 years looking for you.”

Farah nodded her head and placed her hand on Saul’s shoulder.

“We never gave up, every summer and every Christmas we’d come looking for you. We had friends looking for you as well, it’s how we found you, but we wanted to speak to your foster parents before coming out.”

“You knew I was here?”

“We only found out a few months ago. If James and Kody weren’t okay with us coming out we would have waited until you were an adult before getting in contact with you. We didn’t want to overstep our boundaries, and we don’t want to now. Everything is in your hands.” Saul explained.

You slowly nodded your head and stood up, patting your hand against your thigh.

“I.. I need to go..”

Before anyone could stop you, you and Bodi were gone out the front door and Saul sighed, hanging his head low and Farah took his hand in hers.

“Just give them some time, I’m sure they’ll come around. Do you two have a place to stay?” Kody asked.

“No, we weren’t sure if we were going to be staying or not.” Farah sighed.

“Y’all can stay here, we got a spare room.” James smiled.

They spoke about it for a few moments before agreeing.

It was summer, and they still had some time until they had to go back to the school, the Saul and Farah agreed to stay.

You didn’t stay inside for the next week, you were always out, and they were finding it hard to talk to them.

Sitting on the fence, you watched the horses in the background while Bodi laid in the shade of your shadow.

“You need to give them a chance, they ain’t bad people.” Kody sighed.

“I know Kody it’s just… my whole life I wondered what it would be like to meet them.. it made it a whole lot easier just thinking they gave me up..”

He nodded his head.

“I understand that kiddo, but they’re really trying. They wanna get to know you.”

You sighed.

“I know…”

Kody pat your back and walked away to leave you sitting there, and you carried on watching the horses.

You heard someone else approach.

“You know I have horses..” Saul said quietly.

“Can you ride?”

“I can.” He nodded.

You turned around on the fence, looking at him and Farah.

Bodi got up, stretching a little as he sat down to look up at you.

“Can you?”

“I can stay hanging on if that counts.” She smiled.

You shrugged a little and looked back at the horses.

“Y’all probably can’t ride properly. If it ain’t the country way it’s the wrong way.”

“The country way?” Farah asked.

“Get James or Kody to bring the truck to the gate, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

They smiled and walked back to the house and you pointed to the other side of the fence for Bodi to crawl under and sit there.

You let out a loud whistle and one of the horses snapped it’s head towards you before running over, slowly to a walk as it got closer.

Running your fingers over the head of the brown horse you touched your head against the animals.

“Good girl.” You whispered.

Climbing on her back, you gently wove your fingers through her mane and clicked your tongue and she started to walk.

Bodi happily followed along, and as you got closer to the gate, you tapped her side with your hand, leaning forward and she broke into a slow run as you lead her through the gate.

“Bodi car.”

The Doberman barked and jumped into the truck bed and you stood next to it.

“Ready?” James asked.

“You bet.” You grinned.

Kody jumped in the tuck bed with Farah and Saul.

“Let’s go!” Kody yelled.

The truck drove slowly away, and you waited before you clicked your tongue again, letting the horse walk on to the grass next to the road.

Once she was on it you leant forward and tapped her side again, and she started to run.

You quickly caught up to the truck, and you cheered as you threw your hands into the air.

“Yes!” You yelled.

Saul and Farah smiled and laughed as they looked at you, and Farah took a photo.

You looked at them both with a grin.

“Bet y’all can’t do this!”

“I bet I can!” Saul called back.

You hummed, nodding your head and you held the horses mane again as you reached over, holding your hand out to him.

“Feeling brave?” You snickered.

“Oh Jesus Saul don’t.” Farah warned.

Saul shuffled over, and he slowly crouched on the truck bed, and he reached out, taking your hand and he jumped over.

He was nearly thrown to the side, but you hauled him back up and he sat behind you.

“We do it all the time! She’s a rodeo horse! She’s used to it!” You yelled.

“What’s a rodeo?” Saul asked.

“There’s one this weekend I’ll take you both!”

And you did.

You took them both to the rodeo, explaining everything to them, showing them what it was and what people did.

“Have you ever done this before?” Farah asked you.

Leaning against the fence, you nodded your head.

“Yes ma’am. Last year in fact, lassoed my first calf here.”

“You.. what?” She asked confused.

You snickered a little, pulling out your phone to show them a photo.

It turned out a lot of stuff you did every summer they hadn’t ever done, so you took them to most of them, letting them experience then and as it grew to the end of the holidays you found yourself sat down at the table again.

“We won’t force you to come to Alfea if you don’t want to. But it is just a simple boarding school, you can come home on Christmas and during the summer.” Farah asked

“But again, it is completely up to you. We will have to give you a few tests to figure out who’s side of the school you would attend.” Saul nodded.

You nodded your head.

You looked towards James and Kody, and they held their hands up.

“This is your choice. But this will always be your home no matter what you choose.” Kody smiled.

You frowned a little as you thought about it.

Part of you wanted to stay, this was your home, you loved it here.

But the other part wanted to go, to get to know your parents and see how they lived and get to know them some more.

“What.. what about Bodi.. I can’t leave him..”

You looked at the dog laying at your feet.

“You can bring Bodi too. We wouldn’t let you come and not let him come.” Saul smiled.

“Okay.. I Uhm..”

You trailed off as you thought again.

“I.. I want to try it for a few months. But if I don’t like it I can come back here, right?”

“Of course. Of course you can.” Farah smiled softly.

You nodded and left the table and her and Saul stood up to hug on another.

It wasn’t you coming back to them permanently, but they couldn’t take you away from the life you loved so much.

But it was a step.

A step to them having their child back in their lives again

#fate the winx saga imagine #fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga x reader #fate the winx saga x you #saul silva x reader #saul silva x you #saul silva imagine #saul silva #farah dowling x you #farah dowling x reader #farah dowling #farah Dowling imagine

[anexistingexistence]

As per request, I will assign the Redacted cast Honkai Star Rail mains (also because I have been all over this game since release and am therefore most certainly the most qualified person for this job):

Asher: Still waiting for Fu Hua to make an appearance, but he almost cried when he saw Himeko and did cry when he pulled her. The Honkai Impact 3rd vet is now a Himeko main.

Baabe: Herta main because they thought she was cute.

Milo: A Jing Yuan main whose main team is based on follow-up attacks.

Sweetheart: A Welt Yang main who almost threw their phone the first time they saw and recognized him (they, like Asher, are also a Honkai Impact 3rd player).

Angel: Hook main solely to cause chaos.

David: Refuses to play this game, but would likely be a Clara main if he were to play.

Darlin: So far all of their pulls on standard and all their lost 50/50s have resulted in an E3 Gepard, which they've taken as a sign from whatever higher power that they must turn this man into a dps.

Sam: (Actually good at this game btw) has a team full of supports only and mains Asta.

Lovely: Serval main "because she's hot" (Vincent 100% agrees).

Vincent: Has been saving for Kafka since day one, but then Blade came out, and now all his Stellar Jade is gone.

Gavin: Yukong main (I tell you this, as a Yukong main).

Freelancer: Silver Wolf because "Why do the enemies always have the toughness I can't break with my current team?!"

Lasko: Somehow turned March 7th into a possible dps by building her follow-up attacks (also plays the freeze team of Herta/Pela/March/Gepard).

Lasko's Co-worker: Best Bailu build in all of Dahlia because god knows the d.a.m.n. crew doesn't build their healers properly.

Huxley: Bronya, because he likes playing and building supports.

Damien: Seele, because he likes doing big damage.

Kody: A very edgy Dan Heng main.

Elliott: Sushang main because big c-

Sunshine: Yanqing main. Don't ask why. I just feel like it.

Guy: Sampo. No explanation needed, I hope.

Honey: E6 Natasha which was originally built because Guy has no idea how to build healers correctly but after E6, Natasha just became a dps. Guy is scared of their build.

Besite: Qinque main because Bestie and Qinque give off the same vibe.

Blake: An Arlan main because symbolism.

Ollie: Pela main. He somehow knows her full name and how to write it properly.

Mentor: A Tingyun main because they think she's cute.

Aaron & Smartass: Preservation and Destruction path Trailblazer. This was Smartass' idea because they thought it would be funny.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted headcanons #redacted asher #redacted babe #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted angel #redacted david #redacted darlin #redacted sam #redacted lovely #redacted vincent #redacted gavin #redacted freelancer #redacted lasko #redacted huxley #redacted damien #redacted kody #redacted elliott #redacted sunshine #redacted guy #redacted honey #redacted bestie #redacted blake #redacted ollie #redacted mentor #redacted aaron #redacted smartass

[capitalisticveins]

knock knock

I'm baaaaaaaaack, and I have angst for you. I was struggling to come up with some for Guy and Honey, but I have quite a few for the rest of the characters. Keep in mind, I'm new here, so I may have messed up a few details, but I hope you enjoy regardless:

Angel gets mugged/drops their engagement ring and can’t get it back. They feel horrible having to confess it to David, guilty for losing it for both the money and work he put in to picking it out 

Asher gets flashbacks from his time during the Inversion

Milo gets a phone call/visit from his dad

Aaron has been spending way too much time at the office. A suspicious amount.

Ollie gets sick. Really sick. Needs hospitalization level sick. 

The usually (flirty) physically affectionate Gavin stops being so cuddly and touchy towards Freelancer, for supposedly no reason. 

Lasko gets stood up

Cutie gets help they need in order to improve as a partner. Alas, Geordi has moved on, and is extraordinarily happy with his new one, another telepath who doesn’t constantly read his mind 

Kody comes back. 

Sam gets a visit from Alexis. Darlin is about to rip her head off. 

Lovely cries over the lose of their powers. (Same thing with the Milo shifting episode with no happy ending)

I hope you enjoyed those! And if you want more? Feel free to ask =)

OH THESE ARE SO SAD IM DOING THEM

but UNFORTUNATELY these are oneshot level prompts and I only do headcanons, so while I WILL be writing them, it’ll only be in Headcanon form

Additionally I already have another request I’m doing at this moment so I’ll get to these by say…Saturday? No guarantees

But I’m going to make them all have separate posts (like Guy Meeting Honey HCs, I’ll make a full set of headcanons for each prompt and they’ll be posted separately)

Also I probably won’t be able to get to…maybe 3 of them? I’m drawing a blank on Gavin, Aaron, and Kody. If I change my mind I’ll let you know (sorry for all this, I’ll get to writing these once I’m done! ^^)

(Also for the Lasko one I’m not making the reader his listener they deserve better 😭 he’s had partners before I’ll use one of them)

#I made a lot of conditions to this I’m so sorry #ALSO THE OTHER PERSON WHO IM WORKING ON ALSO REQUESTED ANGST HEADCANONS??? #AFTER THAT SNEAK PEEK YALL WANNA BE HURT??? #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted headcanons