#as ordered

For @aarontwds. Happy Birthday!!

Spaghetti dinners had become a norm again in the Raleigh household once Eric had mastered the art of making pasta from scratch. It was certainly way more work than just buying pasta from the store, but Eric considered it well worth the effort every time he looked around the table to see Aaron, Gracie, and occasionally Daryl and Jesus enjoying the supper. 

Tonight’s dinner was a special occasion, and Eric was glad that Daryl and Jesus had made the trek from Hilltop to be here. Most people had stopped caring about birthdays years ago, but Eric--with his homemade calendar--still kept track of everyone’s birthday and made sure that they received some kind of gift.

As dinner was winding down, and Aaron, Daryl, and Jesus sat around talking about the structural integrity of the walls, Eric crooked his finger at Gracie and the two slipped away from the table. Gracie ran upstairs to retrieve a homemade card while Eric dug in a drawer for a birthday candle that had been used numerous times. He lit the wick just as Gracie came back down, then caught his daughter’s gaze with a small grin, giving a nod. 

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” They began to sing the notorious song, drawing the attention of the three men as Eric carried a cake bearing the lit candle to the table. “Happy birthday, dear Aaron! Happy birthday to you!”

Eric placed the cake down in front of Aaron with a smug grin, knowing his partner hated this kind of attention on his birthday, but unable to keep himself from doing it. “Make a wish--and don’t waste it on wishing I would stop doing this every year.”

Aaron huffed a sigh, giving a feigned look of annoyance at Eric, before the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. He looked at Gracie for a minute, who was grinning ear to ear and clutching a piece of paper between her hands, then at the two men sitting opposite him. Daryl’s arm was casually draped across the back of Jesus’s chair, both looking amused. Wishing for only happiness, health, and a long life for everyone in the room, Aaron gently blew out the candle. Eric leaned down to kiss his lips, pulling the candle out of the frosting and licking it off as he went back to the kitchen to put it away and get a knife to cut the cake.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!!” Gracie exclaimed as she handed him the homemade card. In different colored crayons, she had drawn a picture of their house, her family, and the sun shining above them. In her child-like scrawl, she had written H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y, D-A-D-D-Y. 

“Thank you, baby,” Aaron pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek. “This deserves a place on the fridge!”

Eric couldn’t help but glance at the fridge, completely covered in Gracie’s artwork, and wondering where exactly Aaron thought they’d find room for it, but deciding that would be Aaron’s problem. Bringing clean plates and forks along with the knife, Eric cut the cake and distributed it to everyone before taking his seat. 

“I brought you a gift, too,” Jesus said. “Well, it’s less for you than for the safety and protection of Alexandria…” he clarified, eliciting a soft snort from Daryl.

“A mace hand,” Daryl announced, beating Jesus to it. 

“A mace hand?” Eric asked, brows furrowed. 

“Alden and Earl found some good, usable metal.” Jesus nodded. “Constructed it so you could change it out with the wooden hand when you need to clear walkers or…”

“Fight the Whisperers.” Aaron finished.

A hushed silence fell over the table. Gracie, sensing this was not a good thing, piped up. “What a mace?”

“It’s a kind of weapon--” Aaron started to say before receiving a sharp jab in the ribs by Eric.

“That you don’t need to worry about, pumpkin.”

Noting the tone, Aaron abruptly changed the subject. “So,” he looked pointedly between Daryl and Jesus with a smirk. “Things look like they’re starting to get a little more serious. Might there be wedding bells in your future?”

Eric turned his gaze to Aaron. “Subtle, babe.” He leaned over and kissed Aaron’s cheek. “Gracie, help me clean up?”

As the two started to clear up the dishes from dinner, Aaron listened as Daryl--of all people--admitted that there was just ‘somethin’ special’ about Paul. He couldn’t help but smile, noting that it was the first time Daryl hadn’t referred to the other man by his nickname. 

‘ hey fuckface— ’ 

husky tone, gaze aside & expression was an attempt to remain calm in any kind of manner. he could go for ‘deku’, but he decided not to. of course, he was serious here, not matter how many names he could give midoriya for this one. so many emotions that were gathering themselves more at once, and the feeling of abandonment, loneliness, hell even replacement were all over his own mind ( why was he like this? ).

 ‘ maybe you shouldn’t have rescued me from those fuckers... ’ now he was talking vague, wasn’t he? he cleared his throat, but the natural huskiness on his voice shall remain. 

‘ from the LEAGUE, damn it !! ’ troubled mind, troubled thoughts— did katsuki know what he was trying to say to midoriya? his gaze did not change at all, most likely did he look into the void.

          work  days  were  long,  but  asran  found  his  days  off  clung  on  far  longer.    there  was  only  so  much  to  do  in  a  lonely  apartment,    especially  one  filled  with  moving  boxes  he’d  so  used  to  seeing  that  he’d  just  given  up  on  unpacking  them,    but  after  transitory  hours  spent  entangled  in  his  bed  sheets  and  pajamas,    he’d  willed  himself  up  an  out.    slid  into  the  convenience  store  and  onto  the  bus,    he  knew  his  destination  but  couldn’t  quite  swallow  it.    if  anyone  knew  listlessness  like  the  kind  that  had  made  a  home  in  his  bones,    it  would  be  jonah,    that  was  the  thought  that  kept  him  going  until  his  knuckles  were  inches  away  from  the  door.

             a  heavy  pause,    bottles  rattle  in  the  paper  bag,    before  concession,    and  his  hand  came  in  contact  with  the  wood,      “    hey  jonah,    “    raised  his  voice,    london  lilt  blossoms  between  syllables,  “    it’s  me,    asran,    sorry  i  didn’t  call  before  hand  but,    “    looks  around,    as  if  in  search  for  his  next  words,      “  i’ve  got  booze,  “

Prompt 34: “You’ve got something on your cheek.”

As I haven’t yet figured out who sent this, enjoy this instead.  One Grillby, Viv, and Sanswich to order.

Edit: I just realized i actually forgot to use the prompt line……whoops. guess ill do a less shitposty one later. Eheheheh >>;;;

Vivian was supposed to be meeting Grillby for lunch, a new deli had opened not far from where she worked.  Given the time she had for lunch during her break it was in quite the convenient location.  

So here she was, standing outside the deli, wheezing with laughter, and ten minutes late to meet Grillby.  

“ok, laugh it up. get it all out now.”

“I’m sorry Sans,” she said, trying to calm down.

“no you’re not,” he said, trying and failing to frown…and trying and failing to cross his arms.

“No, I’m not!” Vivian wheezed, covering her face with her hand and wiping at the tears she’d laughed into existence. “You’re a fucking sandwich!”

See, she had gone to the deli, and just outside of it, in a very large sandwich costume, was Sans.  It was so large his arms were held out from his sides and just kind of stuck there.  

“i think you mean a sanswich,” he said, flashing her finger guns as best he could.  She was going to respond when a familiar arm wrapped around her waist.

“Sorry I’m - oh no.”  Grillby finally realized who was in the costume.

“heh, hey grillbz, hungry?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Grillby said with a heavy sigh. 

“I’ll take one Sanswich to go, please!” Vivian said, poking the skeleton in front of her.

“Oh no you don’t, don’t encourage him,” Grillby said.  

“But now he has buns you can toast when he gets annoying!” She pointed out.  Sans’s smile shrunk at that.

eyes tracing over laughing faces, she moved through the crowded space full of noises. jubilant masses coming together around her. trying to soak it all in, commiting the mood to memory. she cast violet eyes to the front again, tracking the progress of the participants, accepting their joy as her own. features soft with curiosity, she startled. black hair, spiked in touseled fashion. she had not set eyes on him in so long. a decade. the man who was supposed to take away Luna. trivialise all she was.

her fists balled together, a seething pool of chaotic feelings in her midst. steps lengthened, stubborn chin raised. a haughty look crossing her features.

“What are you doing here, Prince Noctis?”