⚰️ Being Undertaker’s S/O Would Include…
He laughs at everything. Not just jokes — your little quirks, the way you wrinkle your nose, even when you scold him for scaring clients. To him, you’re endlessly entertaining.
Dates are never normal. One day it’s tea in his dim little parlor, the next it’s stargazing in a graveyard with a blanket and snacks. He insists the quiet of cemeteries makes for the best picnics.
He teases you with morbid nicknames: “my little corpse flower,” “sweet cadaver,” “darling death’s-head.” They’d be horrifying from anyone else, but from him, they’re affectionate.
He has a sixth sense for when you’re sad or burnt out. Without a word, he’ll appear behind you, draping his long coat over your shoulders and murmuring, “Don’t look so grave, love.”
Affection comes in unexpected bursts. A gloved hand brushing your hair back, a bone-dry joke whispered in your ear before he kisses your temple. He’s not always touchy, but when he is, it melts you.
He adores storytelling with you. Sometimes he spins wild, morbid tales just to make you laugh. Sometimes he shares real fragments of his past — whispered in the dark, between fits of laughter.
His love language? Surprises. He’ll gift you odd trinkets (a silver ring left in a coffin, a locket he “found” during work) with a grin like it’s a bouquet of roses.
He lives for your reactions. If you’re startled, if you roll your eyes, if you laugh until you can’t breathe — he commits every expression to memory.
When he holds you, it’s tighter than you expect. Arms around your waist, head tucked into your neck, laughter humming against your skin. It’s the kind of hold that says: you make eternity less lonely.
Private laughter: When you’re alone, his laugh softens. No manic edge, just a quiet chuckle against your hair when you say something sweet. Those moments feel like secrets only you’re allowed to see.
Slow dances in odd places: He’ll tug you into a waltz in the middle of his dusty parlor, or under the moon in a graveyard. He hums an old tune instead of music, and spins you until you’re both dizzy.
Keeps mementos of you: Pressed flowers between his ledgers, a lock of your hair in a ribbon, notes you’ve written folded into his coat. They’re hidden away, but he touches them when you’re apart.
Kisses, his way: Rare but devastating. Sometimes featherlight, barely a brush on your temple or wrist. Other times, unexpectedly firm and lingering — his smile curling against your lips when you gasp.
Protective in silence: If someone disrespects you, he doesn’t argue. He just laughs, low and dangerous, and they find themselves unsettled enough to retreat. After, he turns to you with a smile: “No need to fret, love. They won’t trouble you again.”
Dream sharing: He’ll stay awake just to watch you sleep, brushing stray hairs from your face. If you wake and catch him, he’ll chuckle and murmur, “Didn’t mean to wake you, pretty thing. You just look so peaceful.”
Pet names (romantic): Beyond his morbid humor, he sometimes surprises you with softer ones whispered just for you: “my dove,” “my heart,” “sweet one.” Hearing them from him is like sunlight through storm clouds.
Long embraces: When he hugs you, it’s full-bodied — arms wrapped all the way around, face pressed to your neck. He lingers as though he’s memorizing the warmth of you. He lets go only when you do.
